#back to the original point we can all agree it's way too fucking hot why does the system of measurement matter
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Are we really still rehashing the fahrenheit vs celsius thing like who caaaaares
#side not but the posts that are like people in x country are so stupid for doing this differently than people in my country piss me off#how are you gonna be a whole adult and still not understand that your experiences aren't universal#back to the original point we can all agree it's way too fucking hot why does the system of measurement matter
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Swimming (Matt Sturniolo)
description: y/n and the triplets go swimming for content. But matt and y/n's sweet intractions definitely do not go unseen.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sexual things.
I have had a crush on Matt for the longest time. Everybody always tells me that he likes me back, but I never belive it.
Today, Matt, Chris, Nick and I have rented out a swimming centre, so we can film content in there. I was so exited, I had done swimming in the past and it was always a huge part of my life, something that I could do where I don't overthink or get stressed or anxious. "Y/n?" Matt says, breaking me out of my thoughts. "You alright?" I nodded, continuing to gaze out of the window humming quietly to 'TV by Billie Eilish.'
I suddenly felt a warm feeling on my inner thigh, I peered down at my lap and saw that it was Matt's hand. Slowly rubbing circles with his thumb. I felt a hot flush of heat run to my face as I turned away, biting my lip.
Around 5 minutes later, Matt removed his hand from my thigh to park in a space outside the swimming pool. I was sad at the loss of contact, but I knew matt had to use both hands so he didn't rear end the car beside him. As soon as he had parked we got out, Chris came up behind me and ruffled my hair "hey!" I said looking back at him annoyed. " I was having a good ponytail day!" All he replies with is "whoopsies" as he runs away like a child. Matt came up behind me and wrapped his arm over my shoulders pulling my back into his chest as he walked behind me. He carefully moved my misplaced strands of hair back to their original places. Little did we know Nick was recording us behind long enough to catch the whole thing. "Definitely keeping this in, it will be good for the edits." Whispers Nick to Chris. Chris just chuckles and agrees.
I start to get giddy as we walk inside because I smell the familiar scent of chlorine. I ran into the changing rooms, Chris running behind me as Matt and Nick slowly walked behind us. As me and Chris were fighting over who should get the family sized stall, Nick started to talk to Matt.
"So when are you two gonna get together?" Asked Nick. "What are you talking about?" Says Matt his gazed still fixed on me as I tried to push myself into the stall that Chris wouldn't let me have. "C'mon you know exactly what I'm taking about. Don't think we don't see the way you too look at each other. AND don't think we didn't see you putting your hand on her thigh or when you did all that weird shit in the car park coming in."
"Okay okay geez, I would love to talk to her about a relationship but I'm not sure she likes me back." Nick looks at him with an expression mixed of disgust, shame and shock. "Are you fucking stupid?" Matt laughs and walks away to get changed. All he could think about was y/n. Her beautiful voice, her soft hair, her flawless skin, her eyes, her curves, her lips. Oh god he loves her lips, they are so plump and naturally pink that he just wondered what they taste like.
Matt was quickly shook out of his dirty thoughts when y/n called his name "Matt! Hurry up we're all waiting for you!" Matt quickly shoves his clothes in his bag as he stepped out. He was wearing blue trunks. He scanned the floor and looked up when his eyes met y/n's but not for long as he traveled his gaze down to her bikini. A white fabric with little cherries on it. It looked so good on her. "You okay?" Y/n said giggling. He snapped up out of his trance. "Yeah I'm good." He said as he walked past her, grabbing her hand as he did.
30mins into filming we ended up doing races.
I always remember being really good at breaststroke. It was an easy swim for me as I didn't have to suffocate myself for that long. "Hey Matt!" I yelled " I bet you can't beat me in a breaststroke race!" ( A/N: help why does that sound so weird.)
"I bet I could." Matt says as he runs up to me grabbing my waist and jumping into the water. Nick laughs as he points the camera to us and zooms in. When I pop up from under the water, we both get ready to start the race. "GO!" screams Chris. I take off, my hands and legs moving rapidly, I got a pretty good headstart so I was ahead of Matt but still in arms reach. We were close to the end of the pool when I felt Matt's hand wrap around my ankle as he pulled me back into his chest. Kissing my head subconsciously and whispering in my ear "slow down sweetheart." Oh. My. Word. My somache filled with butterflies as I smiled shamlessly. "Or what?" I whisper back. In that moment I could feel him getting hard against my ass. He pulled away and continued swimming the rest of the pool as I stood there in shock.
Later when we were home, I was lying in my bed, hair washed and feeling squeaky clean, I was scrolling through my Instagram feed when I heard a knock at my door. "Come in." Slowly, my door opens to reveal Matt. I put my phone down and stand up, slightly flusterd as I remember our last interaction. I patted the spot next to me inviting him over. He slowly walked and sat down on my bed, I felt the space sink down and I struggled to stay balanced. "Hey." He said
"Hey." I repeated. He looks me dead in the eye his gaze burning imaginary holes into my soul. I opened my mouth to talk but he got there before me. "You know, I never did answer the question earlier." He said. I nodded, waiting for him to continue...
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A/N: Hey guys! This was my first imagine and I just wanted to leave it on a cliffhanger for you guys. English is not my first language so if i spelt anything wrong or something just doesn't make sense, please let me know thanks xx ALSO DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO SAVE DRAFTS ON HERE?
^
ALSO HOW DO YOU TAG PEOPLE?
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@takiki16 tags on my post are too good not to be shared! The context is wild shit that legit happened in IRL football ⚽ that I need the Ted Lasso fandom to be aware of, because it'd make for excellent fic material:
the MANAGERS #the PERSONAL DRAMA#I KNOW that ted lasso is not designed to be an actual realistic show #I KNOW that this whole thing did in fact begin as a way to soft trap Americans into watching the Prem #to the point that JOSE FUCKING MOURINHO ACTUALLY HAD A PART IN THE ORIGINAL NBC AD #I do NOT want to change the vibe of the show at all #(but like…a dramedy about the EPL that REALLY wanted to roast some fuckers would perhaps…NOT look like ted lasso #if they wanted to start with the managers it would just be two middle aged idiots with BOILING beef #who had to be physically restrained from throwing hands every other game and have personally destroyed each others’ marriages
Okay WHO would Roy have managerial beef with. I vote Arteta. Actually as @elizabear suggests, it's funnier if it's one sided
He would also instinctively dislike Rob Edwards of Luton because Jamie once said he's the hottest manager in the EPL. Roy's annoyed and he doesn't know why. (Rob Edwards is very hot)
For an example of managers throwing hands... the Tuchel/Conte handshake
In fact here's a whole compilation of managers throwing hands.
Thank you for bringing up Mourinho! This is his ad, btw. "What do you WANT Ted?" lives in my mind rent-free
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After much soul-searching I've decided Roy likes Mou a lot among all the managers he's played for. YES, he is a total cunt BUT
he's really fucking funny about it. Like, really.
he's never met a referee he didn't have beef with but most of all Anthony Taylor (as a Roma fan I have to agree with him on that)
the entire 2005 Chelsea team would've died for him. I've said this before, but there can't be a Frank Lampard in TL if Roy plays the box-to-box midfielder role, so this quote about Mourinho walking into Lampard naked in the shower to give him a pep talk? That's Roy. To me.
I can't even pick a quote among all the shit he's said about all the managers he's played against, but I especially enjoy when he used to be a bitch about Pep and Pep was like "I don't know her." It was like a one-sided crush dating back from their Barca days
#if they wanted it to be about the players the literal sky is the limit. WHATEVER the writers room can come up with#it cannot come CLOSE to the batshit drama that real Sockckckckcer Playahs have amongst each other#also intricate rituals. NOT ENOUGH INTRICATE RITUALS#when Jamie scored that free kick after getting permission to be a prick Dani should have kissed him with tongue
Here's some homoeroticism:
#but TO COME BACK TO OP’S POINT ABOUT ACTUAL GAMEPLAY#I want to see Coach Roy get red carded and have to sit in the stands for the next game cursing and swearing
He'd get, like, 3 red cards a season MINIMUM. Mourinho who. Here's Klopp losing it a bit. Here's Pep being passive aggressive as fuck. Pochettino from 2 days ago. Also from last weekend: De Zerbi's "I don't like 80% of referees in England" he's so right for this.
Manager Roy would get himself red carded the week before Richmond play Chelsea away. Totally accidental. So he doesn't have to have a lil cry about it.
#I want to see what it would take to get Zoreaux sent off#and then they have to stick Bumbercatch in goal and it turns out he has some Hyper Specific Phobia about the situation#he manages to save the team but his coping mechanisms for dealing with Forcible Keeper Phobia make up the comedy B-plot of the episode#
I want CLUB RIVALRY. dunno where Richmond actually physically is but imagine if they had derbies#Ted has to be made to understand that no coach - for THIS game we will not stop till we see BLOOD#Richmond wins but bc they are playing away the home fans actively are tossing crap at them as they celebrate on the pitch#also the sprinklers come on and it’s a bus full of soaked greyhounds on the ride home
They're in West London! Maybe they just fucking hate Fulham. Or Brentford.
Actually, I've thought long and hard about Richmond's derby rivalries. Semi-canon sources say they have a bit of a West London rivalry with Brentford BUT to me it doesn't make much sense because Richmond are supposed to have been mid-table in the Prem for years, top-flight but mediocre. Brentford only made it to the Prem in 2021.
Actually, I've decided that Richmond kind of take the place of QPR for most of their history, except they didn't get relegated when QPR did. This is because 1) it'd be too many London-based clubs otherwise but, more importantly, 2) when Man City won their first title in 2012 with Agueeeeeero!!! that was against Richmond. It's funny, To Me.
Also you know Roy still fucking hates Newcastle from his Sunderland academy days. If his pundit career had lasted longer he'd be having top tier shithousery with Alan Shearer every week about it.
Anyway here's a whole youtube playlist about WILD derbies.
#ALSO BC SUAREZ IS COMING TO MIAMI - BITING INCIDENTS CAN THEY DO THAT
As an Italian I am legally obliged to SAY that if Suarez hadn't bitten Chiellini at the World Cup we would have gone past the group stage because Uruguay scored off a corner they won while Italy were all busy telling the ref that there was a fucking cannibal on the pitch. I don't forgive and I don't forget.
Anyway for context: cannibal Luis Suarez. He's a repeat offender. Someone at Richmond would think it was very funny
youtube
#once again sticking this footie post in the tag#ted lasso#FIC AUTHORS I HOPE THIS INSPIRES YOU#tumblr user taakiki16 you're SO valid for those tags I love them#sports#i'm sorry re roy & mourinho it's just true. roy in his prime playing days wouldn't have cared about the cuntery#as a manager he wouldn't be shit to his physio but as a player? sorry it wasn't a deal breaker. he likes mou more than ancelotti. to me#ted lasso meta#i mean. sort of lmao#long post#afc richmond#roy kent#various irl footie people#futbol
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seriously I'm so interested in your story about vampire minho and biting likeeee cannot wait ❣️
The Mansion in the woods
Kinktober request: 5 Vampire Leeknow, Biting
Pairing: Vampire LeeKnow x afab reader
Summary: You decided to take a scary camping trip with your friends and end up exploring the mansion in the woods. You find a ring that changes the entire course of your life.
Word Count: 3.0K
Kink: Biting
Warning: Biting, blood, fangs, unprotected sex
A/N: I was on vacation but I'm back lol, this isn't great but enjoy!
Minors dni
"Okay Y/N you're next, truth or dare?" I.N asked as he took a swig of his beer and asked as the fire cracked louder, the cold fall winds blew but the alcohol and blazing campfire kept you and your friends warm. The sweater given to you by your crush Han also kept you pretty cozy. You and a few of your friends decided to do a random camping trip this fall and when your best friend Yuna told you that Han and his friends would be there you were all in. After a long day of failed fishing and hiking you and your friends ate then the boys made a fire for everyone to sit around, a few shots and beers later you all started playing truth or dare, Chan having to jump in the freezing river naked and Lia having to tell the truth about her and Felix, now it was your turn.
"Dare." You answered trying to seem cool for everyone.
"Hmm... I dare you to spend the night at that creepy mansion in the woods." Right, the whole reason you were there in the first place, Changbin had heard a rumor about this older mansion deep in the woods and suggested that the group all go visit it. Yeji and a few of the other girls said it would be too scary, so the group landed on just camping nearby.
"By herself ?? Nah man pick something else." Han interjected, it made your face hot the way he jumped in to protect you.
"Then you go with her bodyguard Han." Chan said in a mocking tone.
"Why don't you go since you're the one suggesting it." Ryujin jumped in, everyone started to argue back and forth then you spoke up.
"Why don't we all go, it could be like a test of courage to see who can stay the longest, that was originally supposed to be the point of this trip anyways right?" when you finished talking everyone looked around at each other.
...
After about a 15 minute walk the group made it, everyone stood in front of the abandoned home after all the boys worked together to pry the mansions rusted gates open.
"Well... ladies first." Seungmin said then Changbin punched him in the arm.
"Come on guys, it can't be that bad right?" Hyunjin said looking at everyone hoping someone would agree. After much hesitation the group finally entered the house. The foyer was dusty but overall, the house was actually in much better shape than you thought it would be outside of the dust, vines and cobwebs. Everyone ventured deeper into the home, eventually everyone split up into their own groups, your heart was racing from fear but also because now you were alone with Han.
"Stay behind me Y/N, here hold my hand." Han reached his hand back for you to grab it as you both continued to walk but you tripped over a deep crack in the floor and fell on top of him instead. That's how you ended up here on top of your crush, both of you just gazing at each other.
"S-sorry, I tripped." You stuttered out, your brain started to short circuit.
"Y/N I.N told me you liked me, is that true?" he looked directly into your eyes and your face was flushed.
"Y-yeah."
Han wasted no time after your confirmation and kissed you, once you were over your state of shock you kissed him back, leaning deeper into him, you didn't think your first time with Han would be on the dirty floor of a possibly haunted mansion but the way he was gripping your ass and his tongue was exploring your mouth who knows. As the kiss continued the door to the room flew open and it startled the both of you, you looked back to see Chan with the group of your friends.
"See, I told ya'll they were fucking not killed by a ghost." Seungmin said, embarrassment written all over your face. You got up and helped Han up on the way up.
"Well, I'm so glad you two were in here getting chummy, come on lets go Ryujin fell and twisted her ankle, so we have to take her back to base camp." Chan said, you looked over to see Changbin holding Ryujin on his back. The group exited the room and left you and Han there.
“Let's head back then." He looked at you and smiled, while on your way out you saw a something bling in the corner of your eye under one of the chairs in the room, as Han continued out the room you ran over to investigate, it was a ring with a dark purple jewel in the middle, something about it was so alluring. You picked it up and it was almost like a voice telling you to put the ring on, you slid it onto your ring finger, and it fit perfectly, suddenly the rooms temperature drastically dropped, before you could acknowledge it Han called your name and you left.
...
It's been a week since the camping trip and everything was back to normal, you hadn't talk to Han about the kiss but honestly that was the last thing on your mind right now. You have barely been able to sleep since that day, always feeling like someone is watching you in the distance even when you are home alone or in your room, hearing a very random yet familiar voice in your head trying to tell you something and you keep having dreams about a man, a very handsome man that you never met before. The dream would be about you in the house in the forest, when you walked in the man just stood there with beautiful silver hair and gorgeous red eyes, you know you've never met this man before yet his aura felt so familiar, every time you tried to get closer to him you were awaken from your sleep. Later that night you decided that tonight would be the night that you would confront the man in your dreams. You laid down for bed and there you were, back in the forest standing in front of the abandoned mansion, when you walked through the doors you saw him standing at the top of the stairs looking down at you.
"W-who are you?" you yelled out, however that man didn't respond, instead he continued to watch you with a grin on his face.
"What do you want? Are you the one that's been watching me ?" again no response.
"Do you know me?" he slightly giggled at your question and stopped toying with you.
"Come back to see me if you want me to answer your questions my love." He walked away, his figure disappearing into the dark hallways of the mansion, before you could ask any more you were woken up, you were drenched in sweat and your mouth was dry, you needed to find out who this mystery man was.
...
You couldn't wait anymore and took a cold shower to wash off your sweat then got dressed and headed to the woods. You found yourself standing in front of the mansion door, you pushed the old door open and entered the foyer like in your dreams. You stood in the middle of the room and looked around to find no one but the room was chilled, you shivered and flashed your light around the room to find nothing.
"Hello?" you yelled out, no response but there was a whisper.
"Come to me my love..." You heard the voice echo, it came from up the stairs. You walked up the stairs, you felt beckoned to the master bedroom, you could see a light coming from under the door. You entered the bedroom, it was a decorated room with a large bed with red and black sheets and a comforter, the room with had electricity and was the only part of the house that was warm.
"Hello?" you called out again, that when the door to the connected bathroom open, steam seeped out and a man with a towel on came out. He had another towel to dry his wet hair, he tossed it to the side then gripped the towel sitting on his waist.
"You've finally arrived my love." the man’s cat like sharp eyes met yours and it made your heart skip a beat.
"Wh-who are you?" you asked hesitantly.
The man walked over to you, he stopped just in front of you, the room got cold, but you could feel the heat of his damp body. You looked down as your face started to heat up, he placed his fingers on your chin and lifted your face.
"Your heart, mind and body didn't tell you beloved ? I am the man of your dreams."
Thats when your eyes got wide, and you darted your eyes to his.
"It's you... you're the guy from my dreams, how? Why? What are y-" before you could spew anymore questions, he silenced you by kissing your lips. Though the kiss caught you off guard you didn't stop him at first since the kiss felt warm and welcoming, this wasn't like the kiss you shared with Han, for some reason this had meaning. Eventually you pushed off of him, his body stayed firm, and you took steps back.
"What are you doing?!" you demanded an answer, the man giggled at you.
"I guess I'll introduce myself, I am Minho, the owner of this house and your fiancé." as he talked, you lifted your eyebrow at the last part.
"Fiancé???" you questioned, and he smiled.
"Yes my love, fiancé, the ring you put on that you found in our home, it's an enchanted item I brought with me from home, it's meant to only be able to be worn by my soulmate, meaning only my true love can wear it, Truthfully I lost it years ago and gave up on finding love. I thought I was damned to roam this world alone for an eternity, that is until you came along and found it. Once you slipped it onto your lovely finger, we became soul bonded." He moved his hand from your chin to cup you hand bring it to his lips to kiss the ring, the beautiful purple jewel on the ring glowed for a moment and your heart started to beat faster.
"Wait, what do you mean for eternity... what are you?" Minho knew the question would come up at some point but he was surprised you caught on so fast, many humans can't tell he isn't one of them, instead of answering you he flashed his red eyes and open his mouth slightly, his k9 teeth began to grow into fangs and his nails grew into sharp talons. You stepped back a bit to drink in his slightly different appearance.
"Oh my god so you're saying accidentally soul bonded myself to a fucking vampire?" you said as you started to panic.
" Well, I'm old fashioned and prefer the name Nosferatu but yes vampire works as well. It's funny when I lured you and your friends to my manor my only intention was to drain you all but finding you, my love, was the ultimate outcome, I'll even forgive you for kissing that peasant human boy." His teeth and nails reverted back to normal, and he walked over to the bed to sit down.
"Right, Han... I've been so focused on thinking about you that I haven't went to see him... so, what happens now?" You questioned.
"Well, before we can marry, I have to turn you so we can spend our lives together." once he finished, he waved his hand for you to come closer, so you walked over to him.
"How would you do that, do you just bite me?" He smiled at you once you finished your question.
"Yes, but don't worry." He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap, he crossed his hands over your waist and placed his lips on your neck, you were both facing the same direction so you couldn't see what he was doing which made you feel shy. "I'll make this fun for both of us."
Minho reached his hand into your pants and slowly ran his fingers over your panty covered clit, a soft moan left your lips as his other hand reached for your breast and began to gently massage your fleshy mound. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder exposing you beautiful neck to him, a devious smile flashed on his face. you had your eyes closed then you felt a sting sensation on your neck and a feeling of liquid running down, you yelped at the pain but the sensation felt amazing, Minho had sunk his teeth into you, he removed his fangs from your neck and he started to lick up the blood, before you could enjoy the feeling of his tongue fully a burning sensation rushed through your body.
"Ah, Minho... I feel so hot." you said as you felt your body heating up and becoming more sensitive, suddenly the feeling of his fangs touching you and was driving you crazy.
"Don't worry beautiful, that’s just my venom entering your blood stream, I have to bite you a few more times so you can be nice and full of me." once he finished his moved his hands from your core to your waistband to inch your panty and pants off, you helped him because you wanted him, right now. Once your pants were off you spread your legs wide for him, he moved his fingers back to your core, you hadn't noticed how wet you were for him as he slid his 2 fingers into you with ease. Your moans could be heard throughout the empty mansion as he continued to work his digits in and out of your needy cunt and his tongue danced around the new holes on your neck until he kissed his way to your shoulder blade. The pace of his fingers sped up, your moans getting louder as you felt your climax on the rise, your hips bucked as you felt his pipe hard length growing under his towel, he detached his lips from your shoulder.
"Cum for me my love." He continued to pump his fingers into you, as you focused on how amazing his fast pace felt, you felt him bite into your shoulder, you yelled out a string of moans feeling your shoulder throb with pain as his fangs dug deep into you. You covered his fingers in cum as he pulled them out slowly and brought them to your lips, he didn't need to say anything you opened wide and took his digits into your hot mouth as you sucked all of your slick off of them, he popped his fingers from your mouth and you huffed and puffed heavily. You had never felt this way before, your entire body was hot like you had a fever, yet you were shivering, all you wanted was Minho, he was the only thing on your mind, the only want.
"Please, Minho, please fuck me, I need you so bad, I need your dick in me please." you started to beg, a tear sat at the corner of your eyes as you continued to buck your hips, your pussy was leaking and needy still.
"Of course my queen, I'll fill you up with my venom and my cum." he gently laid your hot body back onto the bed and crawled up to you, he clicked the bedside lamp off and removed the remainder of your clothes along with his towel, he couldn't help but to stop and stare as he looked over your body as it shined in the moonlight. "How was I so lucky to find such a beautiful wife." Your face heated up as he complimented you.
"When I take you home one day everyone will be so jealous of my beautiful wife, so perfect and made just for me." He continued as he gripped your legs and pulled you closer them placed them on his shoulders. He lined his dick up with your entrance then slowly sank into you, you felt like screaming, the sensation was like no other, you needed every inch of him in you, you felt feral like a wild animal in heat, he bottomed out in you then watched your face to make sure you were comfortable.
"Please, Minho, fuck me, break me." You begged, and he listened, he didn't waste another second and started to drill into you deeply, his long dick reaching your spot easily as he beat down your gummy walls with no hesitation.
"I'm going to make you all mine Y/N, would you like that?" he groaned out as your walls squeezed him.
"Yes please~ Make me all yours Minho, I want to be yours, I want to belong to only you." He hissed at your words, his pace becoming sloppy and animalistic, your tears started to flow as he pounded into, he drew his fangs once again you watched his eyes glow as his pupils split like a cat then he bit into your thigh, you yelled out once again as you came, you felt a rush of his seed begin to spill into your core, it was hot as he filled you up, he removed his teeth from your thigh and sucked and licked your blood, he wiped your blood from his mouth then laid next to you.
You both breathed heavily then you cupped his face and kissed him deeply, the metallic taste of your blood still on his tongue, you pulled back the kiss then pulled him into your body, he pulled the covers over your naked forms and held you tightly.
"Minho, I love you?" you said.
"I love you too beautiful and please, you can call me Lino, Minho is my royal court name." he said as he kissed your forehead
"Royal court??"
"I'll explain it later."
#kinktober 2023#writenbypyramidofstars#leeknow smut#lee minho x reader#minho x reader#lee minho smut#lino smut#lino x reader#minho x you#minho smut#skz smut#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids smut
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Ayayui?
Ayato's POV:
There's this one human holiday I'm fond of, I think it's called Halloween or something like that, humans get to dress up and scare each other, a concept called "trick or treat." I told Yui about it, and she said it was just for kids. Kids get to scare the living shit out of people on this day? I'd love to be a human child if that's the case. It wasn't halloween today or anything, but it would be fun to scare the fuck out of her, and fuck her in the process too.
When I was at the shopping district yesterday I found a ghostface mask, the ones that were used in that American Movie about the killings, it wasn't even scary, I've killed people in more creative ways before, they should take notes from me. Anyway, I ended up buying the mask, I'm going to use it for a scheme.
"Hey tiny tits, wanna watch a movie with me tonight? There's no school tomorrow." I ask her, then state. She gives me that suspicious look, she's really learning. "What movie..?" she questions. "It's an American movie, I know you suck at English so I purchased it with subtitles, what do you say?" I asked her again. She still is giving me hesitation. "You know I went out of my way to do this, the least you can do is watch it with me." I guilt trip and it works, she agrees. "Alright, I'll meet you in your room in a few minutes, get comfy." I command. "Why not the living room?" she asks, I smirk at her. "Cause' we might get horny and start fucking like rabbits." I let out, jokingly but I wasn't actually joking. She rolled her big eyes at me, anyway I went back to my room to retrieve the mask and I hid it well.
We plopped onto her bed, after I turned on the movie, "I said get comfy, this is your bed. Why are you sitting all the way over there?" I ask her, she scoots over a little closer and I grab her, getting us in a cuddling position. We start watching the movie, I believe this was Scream 1, the original it was old but still pretty good quality.
Finally the movie was over, “Ayato why do you like watching such strange movies at night?” She asks me, I yawn “they just help me sleep better, I’m gonna call it a night” I tell her, then leave. She didn’t seemed scared it wasn’t really scary to begin with. But I was going to wait for her to go into the bathroom to mess w her. I put on the ghost face mask and hide in her bathroom, I take out a dagger, it was a real dagger too. Maybe 10 mins go back and she finally goes into the bathroom, she took off her towel she was nice and naked, I wanted to just rail her by the sink instead at this point- that would be an even better idea. I ran up behind her and cover her mouth, holding the dagger to her throat. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” I say in an attempt to sound like a ghost face killer. “What the..?! Ayato let go of me!” She yelled out, “I’m the ghost of billy loomis if you watch that movie you summon me.” I said to her, trying to sound convincing who knows if it’ll work or not? Would be hilarious either way.
She tries wrestling out of my grasp but I have a secure grip on her, I pressed up myself against her ass, I got a little hard in the process I’ll admit that. “You like it rough don’t you pancake?” I say then realized I slipped up by calling her that. “Ayato…it really is you??” She sounded relieved. I grab her ass cheek, then bend her down, I wiggle out of my pants a little and slide my dick right into her, fuckkkk it felt so good that first insertion always does it. I start fucking her fast, pulling her head back and keeping my hand gripped to her throat, I kissed her shoulder blade . Fucking in this mask made me feel super hot. After a few minutes I change the position, I turn her to face me, and I lift her up fucking her standing up, she had her legs crossed on my wait and held me super close, I wasn’t going to drop her but I definitely was going to nut. A few more strokes and I really did.
#diabolik lovers#diabolik boys#dialovers#yui komori#diabolik brothers#diahell#smut#ayato sakamaki#yui x ayato#ayato x yui#ghostface#scream 1996#smut diabolik lovers#smut fic
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mental heath stuff (not bad just candid)
dunno if i'll regret sharing this just yet, maybe i should have sat on it a little more until i knew exactly if i should share and how much, but parts of me really insist, and so i guess we're going for it
and i word that way because
months of exhausting processing has led me to conclude that I’m a system, so I’m still in the undertaking of cataloging an awful lot of shit into one rolodex. the kicker is i probably have been one for at least 20 years, but everyone got along so well and so cooperatively, like the most well harmonized combining mecha, that is oblivious to the fact it even is one. nobody even needed nametags in here.
…mostly. warning signs were there, it's just some of the issues that come from this sort of thing that did leak through, were hiding under other conditions that already cause similar complications. if you're familiar with the messier mental illnesses and all the ways they start to functionally melt at the edges and trade symptoms in odd places and our understanding of it all is still so half-formed,
you'll probably get what i mean.
hopefully people following me understand none of this crap works like it tends to get depicted in media
i'm schizophrenic and my mind is a fucking enigma anyway
anyway
then one "new" alter woke up last november in response to an acute straw breaking camel's back moment of abuse at home after enduring way too much for way too long, but the alter is not actually new, is technically one of the oldest, but she's been 'asleep' for like a decade and her point of origin is even older than that
obviously this one was SO different and possessed SUCH a different headspace and set of tastes and desired behaviors, and subsequently threw equilibrium off so badly, all the components of the mecha suddenly realized they were components bc now the situation kind of required acknowledging that fact to proceed to even get starting fixing shit.
its like
"who is this weird one who broke everything"
"no clue, you guys got any ideas?"
"why would we have any ideas you don't, we're all us"
"yeah like what do you even mean by You Guys?"
"i think they're joking, like, because we're all copies of the same person, like the spongebob bit with the fine dining, they're asking themself rhetorically because it's funny……..
…….we are all the same person right. this is a metaphor. like the spongebob bit…… right….."
"why are we not all immediately agreeing"
"because before we could all reflexively say yes we realized we all had different definitions of The Same Person we are"
this is a gross oversimplification of course
this was a lot to process for pretty much all parts of me save one (incidentally, not the new one, the new one isn't shocked, but is a crybaby, so they didn't take Existing (Again) (2. Electric Boogaloo) very well. they do not take the prospect of 'going back to sleep' veryy either, though. so we're having to slightly redesign the mecha)
mostly through the worst of it, but among other problems we're still working to repair, this sleeper code alter caused a catastrophic system failure in the ventilation and even though everyone is mostly calmed down now, they can still smell everyone else's scented candles in their personal quarters, which is annoying when some of them have VERY different tastes in scents)
annoying, but not ruinous.
fixing the AC is low priority compared to other things
like the pneumonic tube that used to let everyone hot potato information and memories from any time they were the one obliviously in the cockpit, we had a pretty damn good one, it was working so well we didn't know why we were even using it, and assumed its regular but manageable failings were just, natural, or because of some other factor affecting the tubes themselves or potato availability, and not considering most people do not have these potato tubes at all
yes i will probably make some kind of comic to conceptualize and visually externalize this i struggle to feel understood without doodles
also, while typing this post, specifically, tumblr did a fucky wucky, and when i realized i'd made an entire other post in the tags, i went to try to copy/paste them into the post but the nature of the fucky wucky prevented this. i'm really not in the mood to retype all that so it's just a screenshot now
#sporadic warbling#the good news the venn diagram between us all in terms of what we believe in and whats okay to do or not n shit mostly lines up#tho the scented candles thing is actually less trivial than it sounds / impacts QoL more than i'm willing to get into rn but we live#also the memory thing but my memory was bad before and after the fact#its taking so long to fix the potato pipes and i'm tired of manual potato delivery so i'm entering my Fuck the Potatoes era#like well kids i had a presentation prepared but the overhead's broken and i could make you do a worksheet instead#but why not let you just go play outside while the janitor and i fix the overhead. it's not fair the principle took away recess anyway.
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Thoughts on House of the Dragon and Daemyra; spoilers ahead
Sooo I definitely think Daemon originally wanted Rhaenyra for the throne. I think he still wants her for the throne. He’s a Targaryen, the need to rule is in their blood, but... okay, here me out.
I also think he wants her, regardless of throne, and I don’t think he expected that. Neither of that. I don’t think he expected to want her and I don’t think he expected to want her without a throne. He realised he would want her even if she wasn’t an heir and it’s one thing to simply want her, but another thing completely to want her bare, crownless, whole. In his head, this is far worse I think; to want her just because of her alone. Because lust is familiar to Daemon, lust is safe, he can live with that, but I don’t think he ever wanted someone for them alone and that stumps him.
I’m not saying he loves her, far from that. Rhaenyra is still too young in ways of the world for him to love her romantically, but she is his niece. He does love her as an uncle and he does care, I think that much we can all agree on. However, I think this is where real problems for him lie. He found himself sexually wanting someone that he genuinely cares for and that’s why he’s such a hot mess. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s always a hot mess, the man’s as chaotic as they come, but I don’t think he’s as impulsive and thoughtless as everyone makes him out to be. He is, for sure, but that man spends more time scheming and planning than people do sleeping. He planned to seduce Rhaenyra, to have them marry, to sit on the throne together, to pop out little Targaryen babies. I really do think it was that simple in his head. Hard to achieve but if it’s achievable, it’s good enough for Daemon. And this is where Rhaenyra fucked it up for him.
I don’t think he expected her to want him back like that. I don’t think he expected her to want him enough to take control and go after him. He expected her to comply because he’s familiar, because he wouldn’t hurt her, because he’s on her side, because he’s her best choice, because, eventually, she loves him as an uncle. Not because she genuinely wants him. And Rhaenyra isn’t afraid to challenge him, to bite, to call him out on his bullshit. And that makes him feral, especially now that he’s accepted the fact he wants her because, yes, she’s the throne, but she’s also Rhaenyra. He miscalculated and now she’s taunting him and you know, good for her.
So like, the point I’m trying to make is; I think Daemon went after her for throne, realised he also wants her without a throne, had a minor crisis about it, and is now a mess because she was means to an end before, but now she’s the end in on itself. She’s his “buy one, get one for free” and Daemon’s not dumb, he’s greedy.
Also, I have to mention, I don’t condone incest, but these are Targaryens we’re talking about here and Matt Smith is hot with Legolas hair so my morals are taking a vacation. And another thing, I love Daemon, morally grey characters have always been my favourite, but Ser Harwin Strong... that scene at the end of episode 5... my word. While Daemon disappeared in the whole mess, as he always does (the fucker), and left Rhaenyra alone, Ser Harwin Strong went through those men. That inhale and first push he did had me on my knees.
Rhaenyra, my girl, I approve.
#also in preview for the 6th episode#they way he went at ser crispin#he had him on the ground#people had to pull him off the man#uuhhh me like#and i know it's criston but i like crispin more#we're calling him crispin from now on#he doesn't deserve to be called by his name#anyway if daemon doesn't step up his game soon...#it's harwin strong for us babes#though i will continue to love the walking disaster that is daemon targaryen#game of thrones#house of the dragon#daemon targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#ser harwin strong#hotd thoughts#hotd spoilers#daemyra#post
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Thess vs the Rush Hour
Now, with fingers crossed and all the hopes in the world, I will not have to do the absolute fucking nightmare I had today as often as I have been.
See, the trip to work wasn’t bad - I wasn’t in great shape at the end of it, but I never am, so fuck it. I had good luck with connections in terms of changing buses and, as I had planned, got to work in plenty of time to wait in the always-overlong queue at the in-hospital pharmacy so I could pick up mallet-meds. I’d have waited until after work but I have a thing at the moment whereby I take the mallet-meds a little bit before I leave for home so that I can more or less survive the trip home.
This will be important later.
Since I had the security app and password, it seemed a sensible thing to say to Scruffman, “I’ll test this out over the weekend and call on Monday so we can see what’s what in terms of working from home”. So I said the thing, and he agreed with it, and I will definitely test the things over the weekend. But I will not be doing it tonight even though I had originally considered it, because of what happened after I gathered up my work laptop and the peripherals and started heading for home.
Well, the first half of the journey wasn’t too bad. However, when we got to the sort of Russell Square sort of area, the driver went on the announcement system and said, “There’s a traffic issue around here and I’m told it’s going to take a half-hour to get to Holborn so this bus is going to stop at Waterloo”. I kind of get why - timetables and all - but it seems a horrible thing to do to commuters who’ve crammed themselves onto a bus to overcrowding point to just dump them off possibly several stops before theirs, and probably have to wait for another bus that will have run into the same problems (or be overcrowded to fuckery by other people who had to move to said other buses after having the same problems). So I just went, “Fuck this” and got off the bus, figuring I could get the Tube to Elephant and Castle and go from there.
This was probably a mistake. The nearest Tube station was Russell Square, which is a Piccadilly Line train, and Elephant and Castle is either the Bank branch of the Northern Line or the Bakerloo Line. So I had a couple of choices - one stop up to King’s Cross and switch to the Northern Line, or a few stops in the other direction to Piccadilly Circus and the Bakerloo Line from there. So basically it was a choice between what kind of abominable crush I wanted to face, since by then it had gone 5pm and the rush hour was starting. In the end I decided on tourists and nightlife-seekers instead of business suits for my impending crushedness and took the Bakerloo Line option.
Note: neither Russell Square nor Piccadilly Circus are remotely disability-friendly. So many stairs. But eventually, finally, I got to Elephant and Castle without wanting to scream too much. Though by that point, between stairs and connections, it was about 6pm. But all I had to do was wait for my bus.
And wait. And wait. And fucking wait. I checked online because the electronic schedule kept pushing the arrival of my very specific bus back by about five minutes at a go. Turns out that particular bus route was messed up because of a collision around the New Kent Road sort of area. But eventually, after twenty-odd minutes of wait and with painkillers wearing off, I finally got on my bus and headed for home.
It was exhausting, it was expensive, and I never want to do it again. But ... I mean, I may have to, but only once a week, not four times. Fingers crossed everything goes well. Though I did realise that if I want to work in my office, I needed an ethernet switch because the wifi in this room is bullshit. So another expense, but thankfully not a huge one. I’m just praying that all the stuff about sorting out the VPN actually works.
Now, I am going to go soak in a hot bath while my very delayed dinner finishes cooking. Yes, I know, but I got home way later than I expected to and then the roast needed to settle to room temperature-ish and it’s a big one so it takes hours to roast. Also, honestly, I wasn’t that hungry when I got home anyway. Too exhausted and pain-riddled. Also it’s very cold and I’m trying not to turn on the heat but maybe I should just a tiny bit. As a treat. Hot bath first, though.
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rockism has leaked into bandfic and that’s why it’s such a dour miserable place to be in now.
y’all know what rockism is, right?
it’s the belief that rock n’ roll is the only good, authentic music and everything else (read: everything else that’s come out the last 10-15 years with the advent of streaming and a site like tiktok) is complete shit. at first it was just elitist bullshit (and it is, don’t think for one second that it’s stopped) but it’s manifested itself to the point that that’s all that encapsulates rock fandom now.
rock is stuck in the past. the last time i heard something new and innovative and original (and came from here rather than the acts out from australia or japan) was around 2009, when i was a sophomore in high school. look at all these festivals right now: they all look frozen in time.
if there’s any kudos i can give to a group like my chemical romance, it’s that magic happens when you step beyond what’s expected. you quite literally do wonders when you step outside of your comfort zone (plus gerard looked amazing in that cheerleader outfit).
understand, i’m very much a rock fan: i grew up on it and i’ll die with it, and there’s so much in the wings for all of us that of course i get excited about (namely mr. bungle and a pantera reunion come december of this year) but this elitist is killing the vibe of it all.
i can’t go more than two seconds online without seeing this nonsense, how the only good music came out in the past and new music is absolute crap - even if these people are being true to themselves, and they usually are, too; we all keep saying it and i agree with it wholeheartedly, tiktok has upended all of our lives, including the career of an artist who’s all about sharing photos rather than videos, and so much of it is utter shite, and to the point that finding anything decent is like looking for a needle in the biggest haystack. but the fact it’s so d.i.y. is something i can point to and say, “yeah, that’s exactly how you do it. fuck the industry and what they want, just go for it and express yourself and do what you want, dude.”
rock used to be so innovative and on the cutting edge of everything.
i’m glad that so many bands i grew up hearing in high school like all the nu metal and emo bands, and so many metal bands are still going, like eric’s shooting for next year for a new testament album. but the clock is ticking for all of them, though: brendon urie is 35 now (and just for perspective, a fever you can’t sweat out came out when he was 17, the same year katrina hit, that’s how far back panic! at the disco goes). chuck billy is 60 and i worry about something happening to alex all the time. they all can call it quits literally any day or someone can suffer from a fatal heart attack or something.
(come to think of it, that’s probably why i hated the pretty reckless’ latest album, aside from the nepotism with kim, ben, and matt: i got nothing out of it).
and this attitude, this hypocritical elitist belief, has wormed itself into the world of bandfic. this whole time, i had been baffled, like... is it the fact that i like to write crossovers and alternate universes? is it me? is there something wrong with the way i write? is there something wrong with my desires (other than the fact that they suck and they’re not even in the least bit hot no matter what i do) when i write something more adult and explicit? what gives?
yes, the problem is me, i’ll admit it, but the biggest problem is that no one in these tags want anything new: this problem exists in the music you listen to, the shows you watch, the movies you watch, in the fics you read, everything. don’t pin the utter tidal wave of nostalgia on just the people making it: we’re all so obsessed with the familiar and the traditional that anything new comes along has to kiss the ring or else don’t even bother.
it’s why any new rock bands out right now like greta van fleet, while they are very cool, are not doing anything new and spectacular as when zeppelin first came out in the late 60s.
it’s why we have so many reboots of old shows and movies.
and it’s why, in fanfic, everyone either wants slash or something a la like loving the dead, which now officially feels like a knock-off of templeoftheslavegarden’s louder than love ‘verse, hence why just looking at it i get a pit in my stomach. say what you want about rubbing shoulders: i’m reaching a point where i kind of know inauthenticity when i see it (i have a long ways to go, but it’s getting there). i really liked louder than love, too, it made me miss chris and i liked where she went with it with type o and how she’s currently going with it with motley crue.
but it’s why i still have to talk about now it’s dark, even two and a half years after i signed and sealed the original trilogy, and it’s why i feel like nothing else i make is getting anywhere, aside from my reputation of course.
but can you really pin this on my reputation, though? something beyond my control that was plastered onto me rather than something i had intentionally built up?
i was given this reputation by a woman with no spine or substance, by a faker and a bully with a big mouth, all because i spoke out against her. i was given this by someone who was fake all for being real, and i’m still being shit on for it.
that is rockism at its core: wishing for authenticity so much that you become an absolute caricature with your blinders up and no one who’s genuinely real wants to be around you (and those who do flock to you are just as fake as you).
pair that with the fact that so many new accounts on that side of ao3 are treating the place like it has an algorithm (it doesn’t, spoiler) and you get why, even though i do go through the band tags, it has to really appeal to me for me to interact with it. you get why it feels like such a horrible place to be, filled with mean girls who are all about appearances and the whole thing feels tacky and fake, and someone like me is the butt of the joke to these people.
yes, the world is a dark and terrifying place right now... but it doesn’t have to be.
when i read the hobbit back in 2016, i identified so much with bilbo: this little hobbit who was told “the world in your bubble is good but remember that there’s a big world out there waiting for you.”
when i moved to oregon in 2011 - by myself, too, i took the train up to sacramento solo and then my aunt and her friend drove me the rest of the way - suddenly, the small town i went to high school in seemed so unappealing; it was when i first moved to this area, but even more so when i left. when i came back to the place nearby for reasons i’m not gonna parse out here, i looked around and went, “no, this place actually sucks. i want out of here once the time comes.” i’m in a local group and all the people in there are just so enamored by this area and i- am not. because even when i was a 10 year old kid who had moved in the middle of the school year from carson city to the california desert, i realized there was more to life than staying in one place your whole life and why you sound like a complete asshole when you look around a barren valley in the “mountains” (i consider a place like tom’s place up by mammoth or the whitney portal to be the mountains; this is not) populated by a few thousand people with literally nothing fun to do and say “no, we don’t need anything new, this place is perfect as is”.
i mention this because it quite literally parallels rockism and the way it’s pervaded fanfic circles.
you seem like such a complete douche when you sniff at someone who dares to write more alternate universes and crossovers, or someone who does something different, when that was rock’s bread and butter for decades. and i bet you money that was bandfic’s bread and butter for decades.
you stay in your comfort zone (or better yet, you emulate from those who went outside their comfort zone), you not only develop an ego but you eventually wither and die.
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the bodyguard
— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —
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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader
warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.
word count: 20,500
a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!
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“I’ll be okay.”
The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.
The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier.
There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.
Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.
What had he done?
What in the fucking world had he done?!
BOOM!
Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears.
His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.
“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.
But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock.
05:30.
Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
Better?
No, not yet.
Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.
“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.
Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.
I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.
Date: 4/2
Time: 08:00
Location: UA Services
“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”
Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.
Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.
It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.
“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”
Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.
“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.
Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.
The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.
“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”
Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.
“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”
Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.
“W-Wha—”
“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”
“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”
Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.
“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”
“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.
“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”
“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”
“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”
“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”
“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”
“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”
“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”
“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”
“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”
“Kirishima-kun?”
“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”
“Kirishima?!”
“Can you hear us?!”
Silence.
Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.
The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.
There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.
He was okay.
He was okay.
He was okay.
“Kirishima?”
Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway.
Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.
Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.
“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.
He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.
They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.
“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”
Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.
“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser.
“Oh.”
But he was obviously not the first choice still.
“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”
“Toshinori—”
“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”
Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.
He had barely passed the admittance test.
“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”
Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.
Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.
Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.
“I can do it.”
A smile.
“Good.”
If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.
It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.
“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”
“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.
“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.
“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.
Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.
You were tiny.
His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.
“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”
The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.
Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.
“Six months tops.”
“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”
You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.
“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.
Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you.
“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.
The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information.
“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”
“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”
“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”
Fuck, that one hurt.
You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”
“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”
“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”
Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.
“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.
“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.
You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”
It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.
“You got it.”
The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”
Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.
You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”
“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”
“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”
“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”
So, the contract was discussed to full detail.
For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him.
Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.
Or so the contract said.
“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”
You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.
“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”
You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.
“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”
Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.
Well, so much for a good case.
Date: 5/2
Time: 14:00
Location: Tokyo Music Stadium
If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.
Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.
You always managed to sneak away from him.
Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.
And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.
“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”
“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”
“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”
“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”
“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”
“Ya, okay, bye!”
“By—”
Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.
It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.
You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you.
There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?
He wanted to be just a fan.
“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”
He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!
The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.
“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”
“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”
“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”
“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”
And then there’s only silence.
Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.
Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.
Date: 5/3
Time: 10:00
Location: Tokyo Music Tower
Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.
He knew that.
He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.
You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.
You were a good person.
But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.
For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.
“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”
“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”
Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.
“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.
Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.
“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”
Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.
...how interesting.
“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”
Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.
“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.
But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?
“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”
“Very much.”
There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.
The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.
Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.
Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.
So much for change.
Date: 5/17
Time: 23:00
Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios
Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.
Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.
Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.
To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.
It had been a hard morning.
Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.
“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.
He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.
But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.
That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.
But today, Kirishima was exhausted.
Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.
Today… Kirishima broke.
“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.
You ignore him.
“We’re leaving, now.”
“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”
To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.
He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.
“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”
Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.
“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”
Oh, right.
He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.
“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”
Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”
Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.
“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”
“Compromises aren’t—”
“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”
“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.
“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”
“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”
“Wh-”
“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”
Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.
“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.
“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.
And for a moment, it’s quiet.
Until a single name is screamed.
“SERGEANT!”
And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.
The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.
“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.
The van turns on.
Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground.
He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.
Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor.
With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.
T082-23
When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.
Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.
Well, shit.
So much for the month of no attacks.
Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.
He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.
But they also gave him an essential piece of information.
(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”
Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.
“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)
For now, he was waiting for you.
An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.
“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”
Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.
“Should we go?”
You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.
“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”
Oh?
“Of what, if I may ask?”
Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”
Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.
“Sure.”
And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.
The contract was then discussed.
It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.
Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.
“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”
“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”
“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”
The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.
“Of course, Kirishima.”
“Oh, and y/n?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”
“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”
The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.
Date: 6/12
Time: 19:00
Location: Hime Onsen
An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan
4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago
874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this]
Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33
[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?
[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.
[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.
[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?
[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!
[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]
[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.
[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.
[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?
Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.
Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.
This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too.
It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.
Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.
As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.
With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.
It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.
A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.
But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.
Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.
The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:
You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.
Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.
Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”
“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”
“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”
“I-If that’s okay?”
Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”
The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.
“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.
“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.
You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.
“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”
You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.
“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.
“So, what questions do you have?”
“Hm?”
“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”
“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”
Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.
“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”
“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”
“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”
A pause.
“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”
A nod.
“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.
“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”
“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.
The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.
What had happened?
“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.
“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”
“Was that um, Major—”
“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”
“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”
Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.
“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.
It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.
Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.
“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”
For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.
He wasn’t made of glass.
There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.
It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.
Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.
“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.
“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”
Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.
“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”
Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.
“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.
Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.
“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”
Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.
“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”
“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.
“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.
Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”
“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”
“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”
“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.
“PERVERT!”
“What?!”
“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.
“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”
Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.
There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.
“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”
“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice.
“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.
“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”
“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”
Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed.
Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?
No, his dreams were never like this.
“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”
Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.
“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours.
“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.
“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.
The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit.
He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat.
Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.
“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.
“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.
Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.
Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.
Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.
The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.
“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”
“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.
To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.
For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules.
So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.
“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.
Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.
“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”
Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.
“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”
“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.
“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”
The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.
“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.
“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”
Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.
He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.
“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.
His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.
“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.
“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”
“We weren’t fucking you prude!”
And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.
He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.
Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.
Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.
Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.
What was he going to do now?
That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock.
Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.
Bad, Kirishima, bad.
“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”
“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”
“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”
“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”
“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”
“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”
“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”
“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”
“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”
“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”
“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”
Date: 7/10
Time: 18:00
Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101
Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.
Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.
According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.
Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.
Whoever it was, pfft.
Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.
Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.
Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.
The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.
The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.
A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.
Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.
Something.
Anything.
And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.
So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.
It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.
Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.
He was going to.
And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.
“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.
“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.
“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”
Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.
“Ready to move out?”
“We’re all clear.”
Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.
“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”
“Damn right I will.”
Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you.
Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.
Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.
“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.
“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”
Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”
You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”
“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine.
“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag.
“Such a brat.”
Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.
But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.
Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all.
There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.
T082-23.
His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.
With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.
When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.
You really came to life right now.
You were beautiful.
“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.
The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.
He was here.
Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.
This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.
“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”
“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”
Wait.
“What?! Family member?!”
“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”
Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?
There was no way you wouldn’t.
Was he wrong?
Who was it?
“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”
Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss.
Oh fuck.
He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.
You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.
“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”
Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”
Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.
“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”
“...she’s drunk?!”
“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”
“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”
“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.
Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.
“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.
Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.
Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.
You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.
There was a reason why you were considered a legend.
And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.
You smile.
But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.
You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.
Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.
The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.
How were they related?
What connected them?
“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”
Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.
Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.
Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.
Kirishima panted as he looked before him.
You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.
“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”
“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”
There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.
“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”
“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”
Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.
“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”
Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?
“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.
“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”
“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”
Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”
Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.
“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”
Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.
“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”
At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.
His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?
Was he ready?
Actually ready?
Save her, his past whispered.
Save her, his nightmares screamed.
Save her, his heart yelled.
Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.
BANG!
“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”
The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.
With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched.
Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.
You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.
He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.
Tonight.
“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”
“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”
At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.
“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”
“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.
Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality.
To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.
But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.
It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.
It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.
But it was growing late.
The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.
“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you.
You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.
“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”
Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.
“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”
You frown.
“Where will you be sleeping then?”
“My couch is just fine.”
“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”
“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”
Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.
Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.
His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.
“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”
You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.
“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”
“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”
“Oh, sure!”
“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”
Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.
“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.
“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”
“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.
He was relaxed.
“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”
“Really?”
“One hundred percent.”
“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.
“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.
“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.
You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.
“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.
“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.
His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.
“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.
You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.
“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”
And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.
His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.
The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.
Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.
“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”
The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.
“No,” you grin against his mouth.
Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.
“No?” he repeats.
“No,” you confirm.
Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.
“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.
Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.
The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”
You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.
“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.
Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.
The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.
The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.
“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.
“What does the princess want?”
“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.
“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.
“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.
“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.
“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”
“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”
“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.
You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.
“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”
You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.
“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.
“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”
You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.
“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.
You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.
“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.
Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.
He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.
Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.
Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.
You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.
And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.
He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.
“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”
You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.
“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”
It feels like fire.
His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.
You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.
Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.
Slap!
“Hey!”
Slap!
You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.
“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”
Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.
More, you plead.
And he delivers.
Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.
You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.
“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”
However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.
His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.
“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”
“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”
“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”
Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.
“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”
This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.
His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.
Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.
“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”
“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.
His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.
You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.
“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”
His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.
“Who saved you?”
“E-Ei did,” you garble.
“Who’s fucking you?”
“E-Ei is!”
“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”
“Me! Fuck, me!”
Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.
Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.
He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.
“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”
“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.
There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.
But he didn’t.
“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.
You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”
Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.
“I think we do.”
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study buddies || k.mg x reader
Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader
Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect
Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)
Word Count: 1.6k
a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu
Masterlist
You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.
You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.
His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.
He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”
You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.
“Was I drunk?”
“Probably.”
“So why are you here?”
“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”
“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”
“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.
“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”
“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”
“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.
“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”
You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.
You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?
As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.
That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.
But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.
“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.
“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”
You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.
“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”
“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.
You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.
“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”
“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”
“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”
You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.
“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”
“Alright.”
He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.
You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.
“You know you could be working on math.”
You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”
He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.
“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.
“Why?”
“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”
“I’m wearing pajamas.”
“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”
“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.
“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.
“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.
He shook his head. “After.”
You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”
“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.
“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.
You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.
“Fine.”
A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.
“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.
“Can you please stop that?”
“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.
“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”
“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.
“Very funny.”
“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”
“Probably.”
“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”
“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”
“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”
“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.
“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.
“I just really want to kiss you right now.”
You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.
When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.
“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.
You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.
“You trying to bribe me?”
“Is it working?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.
“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.
He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”
You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”
Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”
“That confident are you?”
His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”
lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!
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#study buddies#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu x reader#mingyu smut#kim mingyu x fem reader#mingyu x fem reader#mingyu x you#mingyu x y/n#mingyu x female reader#kim mingyu x female reader#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#svt smut#svt x reader
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➳ the shower
➳ "keep teasing, I'll bend you over right here!"
➳ "it'd be better if they watched"
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Gender of the Reader: male
Word Count: ~1k
Rating: 18+
Genre: Smut/PwP
Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Petnames; verbal Degradation; Mentions of Daddy! Kink; Dom-Sub-Dynamic (Top! & Dom! Reader x Bottom! & Sub! Jungkook) ; anal Fingering; Mentions of Exhibitionism-Kink; Teasing; Anal Sex; Mentions of unprotected Sex; In conclusion: Jungkook is a vocal brat
A/N: I know, I know... Pride Month is almost a month over but I had a writersblock lately and this shit kept me away from writing... so I'll try now to post some more bts x male reader stories! ♡ I hope you like my newest work ;)
Status: Un-edited
[Links]:
BTS Smut Drabbles
My Writings | My Blog Navigation
「© tipsydipsydo」
This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!
I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!
That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.
Thank you.
You should have known that Jungkook only offered you the option of showering together to simply tease the shit out of you. He said, it would save sooo much more warm water for his other roomates up and that Seokjin would yell at him when they run out of warm water again.
You were indeed way too naïve and trustful. The thought alone that Jungkook could get possibly in trouble because of him, his boyfriend, who neither live here nor pay for anything decided already for him. You're simply a guest who sleep over from time to time and your mom made sure that you'll grow into a man with good manners. So after Jungkook explained the urgency why you should shower together, you don't have any kind of reason why you shouldn't.
Well, you definitely should know Jungkook already well enough to realize, that your boyfriend like to use some white lies here and there to get what he wants. It's still hard to believe for you how the previous Jungkook, who was so terribly shy and nervous as you started dating each other, turned out to be so mishief and sassy. As someone, who could barely exchange some small talk without any stuttering at first, he has now a more than bold tongue and loves to be a brat that tests the limits of your acceptance. Little did you know that he is a masochist who needs to get put back into 'his place', eventhough he won't admit it openly. At least until now.
A cheeky pinch into your left buttcheek got you out of your thoughts and a boyishly giggle comes from behind you. You agreed to wash each others back and of course Jungkook couldn't let the perfect opportunity of grabbing your ass pass by.
"I like your ass, Daddy~ I love to see the how your muscles twitch when I am pinching you and how you gasp in surprise and disbelief, hehe.", chuckles Jungkook and you can literally hear the bright bunny smile out of his voice. It's pretty common for him, he has on his face whenever he teases or annoys you on purpose.
While his endearing smile makes your heart melt and let Jungkook getting away with his teasing way too often, the title he just called you does something to you and Jungkook knows that. Of course he do.
Your nose flare as you take a deep breath and the annoyed eye-roll had given way for a hungry and almost predatory-like expression. Slowly you turn around to Jungkook, who's eyes grows big the moment he sees your facial expression. A harsh gulp follows as you close the space between you two and cages him with your arms, sandwiching him between your own body and the cold tiles. The steady bobs of his adams-apple make it look so incredibly seductive. Some deep purple hickeys all over his neck would suit Jungkook very well.
"Hm, Babyboy? What was that? Would you mind to explain your bratty behavior to me? Keep teasing, I'll bend you over right here. Seems like you wouldn't mind to play around with Daddy for a little bit. Well, if we're already standing here in the shower together, then we need to make the waste of water to be worth it, right?", you wisper in a raspy voice into his slightly blushing ear.
A dark, satiesfied chuckle flees over your lips as you see how his bold and bratty personality starts slowly to crumble down and how your own teasing and promising words put him into his submissive mindset. Jungkook may be a tease but with the right words and gaze you can turn him easily back into a good, well behaving sub.
"What about a quick shower fuck? Isn't that what you wanted, Kookie?"
Your boyfriend exhales shakingly, didn't even recognized that he hold his breath the last few seconds. He nibbles at his lower lip with his cute bunny theeth before he gives you his confirmation.
"Y-Yes please, Daddy. Fuck me, I need you to drill your big dick inside of me, please split my asshole open with your girthy cock-", he whines weakly. Yes, that's what you like to hear. Suddenly he is such a good boy again, it's truly fascinating.
"Turn around, Baby. Spread your legs and pull your cute, little ass cheeks apart for me."
It only takes you a short moment to reach through the small slit of the opened glass door to grab into the drawer of the nearby standing bathroom drawer and pull a bottle of lube out.
It isn't the first time you have some fun in the shower.
The sight Jungkook is giving you let a deep grunt of appreciation escape your throat and leave your hard cock salivating in precum. God, he looks way too hot in this position. Literally awaiting for your cock to get fucked mercilessly.
To be honest... Jungkook is such a slut for assplay. The way already two of your fingers slip into his soft, stretched hole without any resistance. Just a few minutes later your third finger joins in without any problems. He must playing with himself a lot when you aren't around...
Just tiny whimpers and little pants left his mouth while you fingered him but now... now, where you lined your red and angry leaking cock up to his, in exitement clenching hole and slowly filling him up... whiny and highpitched moans filling the humid air in the bathroom.
Jungkook's right cheek is pressed against the tiles, eyes rolling back into his skull whenever you pulled out almost completely just to drill your cock balls deep back into him. To hear how the skin of your hips meets his bubble butt and create such obscene slapping noises clouds Jungkook's mind. He tries desperately to lift his trembling hand to his mouth to muffle his greedy moans, he would be mortified if his roommates call him out about being way too vocal once again.
Unfortunately his intention doesn't fit the plans you have for him. He teased you on purpose, very well aware that all of his roommates are at home today. He is the one who loves the thrill of getting caught doing something nasty. He is the one who jerked you off at the movie theater. So you don't have the need to cover up what you're doing.
You let Jungkook's hips go for a minute, just to grab both of his wrists and move his arms behind his back, holding them in place with one hand while the other one moves back to it's previous place at his hip.
"It'd be better if they watched. Just imagine how the bathroom door would open and they would stand there, watching us. Then they'd see how well I am fucking and wrecking this little ass of yours. What a good little fucktoy you are, taking my fat cock so well in your tiny asshole. Just think about how our nasty, shameless act turn them on to that point where they couldn't control themself anymore and start to jerk off to us. You would like that, yeah? I know what a dirty little boy you are. So let them hear what a greedy, filthy fuckdoll you are. Come, don't be shy. Be louder. Even more louder, Baby..."
#kpop bts#kpop fanfics#bangtanarmynet#bts smut#jeon jungkook#thehouseofbangtan#bts x reader#bts jungkook#purplearmynet#jungkook smut#btswritersguild#sub!bts#sub jungkook x dom reader#bts x male reader#bts shower sex#bts scenarios#kpop smut#bts imagines#bratty jungkook#bts x reader smut#jungkook x male reader#title: such a tease#author: tipsydipsydo
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VIP boy
pairing: dom!bangchan x bratty sub!reader
genre: smut
word count: 2.1k
warnings: +18, night club, mentions of alcohol, teasing (with minho), jealousy, possessiveness, bratty behavior, explicit sexual content, bathroom sex, choking, pet names, degrading, slight humiliation, fingering, oral sex (m), rough sex, unprotected sex (stay safe please), cumming, creampie
note: so the original idea was a request from my friend about chan in a night club, but after that teaser i can't get out of my mind that scene of him choking hyunjin from behind. so, this is a mix of both things, i hope you like it!
as always, i’d like to clarify that english is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any mistakes, and feel free to give me suggestions<3
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you ended up in the night club again with your friends; another night when you don’t know why you are there. it’s been a rough week, full of work and with stressful exams, so your friends insisted on getting you out to distress yourself a little bit. but between the time you’ve spent on getting ready plus all the sweaty people pushing you all around right now, you could swear you would’ve been better in your bed watching a movie or something, or even sleeping. it’s been already an hour maybe? you don’t know so you go straight to the bar to get some drink to see if time gets faster; hopefully it’ll make you less grumpy.
but when you are there, you see him on the vip section of the first floor. chan is there with his friends, talking and looking good as he always does. you start feeling like the night could maybe get a little more interesting, but when you get to see him talking with a girl that feeling changes to anger. sure, you agreed on being friends with benefits -if that was even a title or smt- so you both could be with anyone else you wanted, always respecting each other. so if he didn’t know you were there, in the same way you didn’t know he was coming too, it was okay if he wanted to be with someone else, right? but all the logic didn’t seem to care to your emotions, because you were now in a horrible mood.
you took your drink from the bar and drank it in less than a minute without taking your eyes off him and that girl. that dumb girl, she really thinks he’s hers tonight. but it’s stupid to feel like fighting over a man, so you get your mind clear and go back with your friends to tell them what you just saw to laught about it.
but when you look up again, you see chris leaning on the railing looking at you. he smiles when he notices your stare and waves at you, and after you wave back he makes gestures to let you know you can go there with them. you really wanted to play hard but you go there with your friends, following his instructions like a puppy obeys his owner.
“hey princess, you didn’t tell me you were coming” he greets you with a smile on his face. “yeah, the girls insisted on going out to destress a little bit, but i think i would have been better sleeping” you answer, trying to hide your growing excitement to see him there. “oh don’t be grumpy y/n, it’s early, we can still have a good night” he said in a cute and smirky way, an attitude that you hated and loved at the same time.
“yes i see you were already having a good time” you answer, and chris looks kinda confused. you point with your eyes to the girl he has been talking to, and he smirks at your reaction. “don’t be jealous princess, i was just talking”
you rolled your eyes at his stupid answer, and he just smiles. you hated how flirty he was and his fuck boy vibes, but there was something about him that eventually made you like him; maybe way too much. it all started as just a sex partner, but since day one you discover he was actually a super sweet, caring and fun guy, so you got really atractted to him in a matter of time. friends with benefits sounded right for both of you, but you always wanted more from him. maybe it’s his fault, cause he’s always giving you everything you want, but not only sexually; he is a pleasant man, you know he would give and do anything for his girl. and you wanted to be that girl. his only one.
and especially tonight. how could someone be so fine? he was all in black as always: black pants, black leather jacket and a black silk shirt that let you see his whole chest. “what a fucking fuck boy” you said to yourself, trying to hate him.
“what do you wanna drink, babygirl?” chan said, bringing you back from your thoughts. “your favourite one?” he continued while taking off his wallet from his pocket. you knew he was just doing it to show his hands; chan knew exactly the power his hands hold on you.
“yes, please” he smiles at your answer and goes to the bar for your drink.
but as soon as he goes, minho comes to you. “come on change that shitty face and dance a little y/n” he says while grabbing you from your arms to force you to dance with him. he takes you maybe way too closer to his body considering he is chris’s friend. but you think to yourself that maybe it’s a good idea; using this to get chan’s attention, to look at you, to make him jealous, and taking advantage to dance with a man so fine like minho. you wouldn’t be with him, sure, he is his friend; but it would be nice to at least flirt with him a little bit.
you sincerely got lost while dancing with him, so close to each other; till you notice chan looking at you both while leaning on the railing with the two cups on his hands. he looks at you in a challenging way, like wanting to see how far you can go.
and you accept the challenge, getting minho even closer to your body without cutting the eye contact with chris; you can see how his eyes turned darker, and you just smirk at his reaction. you dance a couple more minutes with minho, his hands on your waist, yours on his neck; after deciding it was enough teasing, you go back to chan playing the innocent. “he was helping me to cut out the bad mood, he’s so sweet. thank you for the drink channie”
“yeah i see, you should hang out with him.” he answers, his look darker; you prouder. “oh you think so? i mean, he seems to want to help me out to not be bored.” you answer, loving to see how your dumb plan worked.
“oh you just want to have fun, mh?” he says in a dark way, making you feel nervous and taking a big sip from your drink. “i know a place when you could have fun”.
you finished your drink in a couple of seconds, so he just takes your cup away from your hand. “why don’t you follow me, princess?”
he lefts the cups in the table, and takes you by the hand to guide you through the place. he talked to you calmly, but you knew he wasn’t not only because of the way he looked at you, but also cause he was holding you rough.
“get in, princess” chris says, letting you place to came in the bathroom. you get shocked; is a public space, but you are feeling so aroused with this situation that you just got in. chan locks the door behind you and turns you around to put you against it, resting his hand above you.
“you’ve been such a bratty, babygirl” he says, using his free hand to caress your cheek, slowly moving down to your neck. “if you were just bored, you should have told me instead of acting like a slut with my friend” chan continues while adding pressure on your neck, making you shut your legs from the feeling. he notices it and smirks in a mocking way. “are you already turned on, y/n? are you that desperate?”
he keeps on adding pressure, driving you crazy. you felt your panties getting wetter as every second passed by. so you decided to keep pushing his limits. “you’re not the only one who pays attention to me, chris. you should try better” his smile turns devilish.
“do you want me to remind you how good i fuck you, y/n?” he keeps choking you, but uses his other hand to touch you under your skirt. “do you want me to remind you whose name you repeat endless times while moaning?” he moves your panties to a side and start touching your pussy while still choking you, making you moan at the feeling of his cold hands rubbing against your clit. he laughs mockingly again at your desperate face.
“did you get this wet while dancing with minho? do you prefer his fingers over mine?” he never desease the smirk on his face, his nose touching yours and the feeling of his heavy breathing so close to you while you were cutted out of air made you go crazy. but you let out a moan after he gets two fingers inside you, making him laugh again.
“tell me, princess. tell me whose are you” you wanna answer, but he curls his fingers inside you while increasing his pace and makes you even harder to breathe. “i’m yours” you answer, and he takes his fingers out of you to put them in your mouth. you suck them instinctively, keeping eye contact with him, seeing the arousal in his eyes.
“you’re mine, y/n. no one else” you keep sucking on his fingers while his other hand finally moves from your neck to your waist, getting you closer to him. he softly moans at the feeling of his hardened dick rubbing against your hot core. “you are my baby slut, and the only one i want to please”
that was everything you needed to hear for being now completely at his will. the only thing you wanted was to be his only girl, the only one who he pleases, the only one who pleased him. you were feeling more desperate than ever now, getting crazier at the way he was rubbing his bulge against you in such a needy way, with both of his hands now on your hips, guiding you to make the touch rougher.
you remove his jacket and your eyes travel all over his chest, revealed by the thin silk. one of your hands caresses his chest, shoulders and neck, while the other one unzips his pants to get his cock out, making him moan louder at the feeling of your skin. “let me please you too, chris” you tell him in a whiny voice that makes him shiver.
you kneeled before him, and as soon as your lips touched the tip of his cock he rested both of his hands on the door that was behind you, moving his head backwards between deep groans.
“you’re such a pretty slut for me, y/n” he says and you speed up your pace. he starts to feel uncomfortable in any position, battling his urge to cum only to have you sucking on his dick for a longer time.
just when you feel his precum in your mouth he lifts you up, getting his eyes teary due to the denied orgasm. “turn around, princess. i’m not over yet”.
chan pushes your body against the door, guiding your ass close to him and lifting your skirt. he kisses your neck before pulling his cock inside you, making you both moan at the feeling of your stretched and wet pussy. “tell me who can fuck you this good, y/n?” he says while keeping a painful fast speed, tears forming in your eyes from the intense excitement.
“are you still thinking in minho, mh?” he says while he chokes you from behind, the other hand guiding your hips to move on his cock even harder. “tell me again, babygirl, who do you belong to?”
the feeling of his fast and hard pace, his hand holding you hard from your hips, his other hand cutting your air, his heavy breathing on your neck, his possessiveness, his moans; everything was making you feel extremely sensitive, desperate for a release of the tension that’s been building up. “you, o-only to you” you cried out in a broken voice.
his now clumsy moves showed you he was close too, getting weak to your submission. “only mine, y/n. f-fuck.” his last words whispered in your ear made you hit your orgasm. the feeling of your release all over his cock made him cum inside you, groaning your name in a completely fucked up way.
after a moment to catch up your breaths, he turned you back, facing you with a relaxed smile. “you’re still my girl after this, y/n. and i’ll always please my girl.”
#kpop smut#kpop imagines#kpop x reader#kpop x y/n#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#skz smut#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x y/n#bang chan smut#bangchan smut#bangchan x reader#bang chan x reader#bangchan x y/n#bang chan x y/n#bangchan imagines
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The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader
summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff. and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother. if only you’d known how much worse it could get...
word count: 4.5k
warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af
You’d never cared for the Sheriff. Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt. Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it. Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.
“You… what?!”
“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll. “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”
“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.
“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.
“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence. “You’re engaged after two months?”
“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned. Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you. “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well. The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that. Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”
“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed. “I’m… we’re moving…?”
“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.
She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard. It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this. She could do better than him anyways! But she didn’t care about that, only money and status. You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh. You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life. You were just numb.
//
You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer. It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his. You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table. He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.
“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.
“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know. Not in the house, at least.”
You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway. You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.
“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly. Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink. Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe. There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.
“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”
“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled. “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’. This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”
You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity. Almost.
“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned. “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”
“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”
“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.
Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!”
With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face. It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over. You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.
At first it was just refusing to leave your room. That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death. So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions. You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.
He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either. And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more. You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it. Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot. You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else. You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible. You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything. Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.
You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.
//
Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently. The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen. She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.
There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though. You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one. At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along. Friday night was different, though. This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning. That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it. It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?
Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside. You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.
“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.
“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow. It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.
“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”
“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms. He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.
“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.
You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face. You didn’t let it get this far just to give up. You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?
“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.
You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.
“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.
With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey. You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak. “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”
He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could. You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.
“Watch your tone with me. I’m not kidding around.”
“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”
“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.
For some reason, it all hit you at once. All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.
“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you! You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”
You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled. It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.
“Go to your room.”
You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.
You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed. It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before. He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.
“Lay across my lap. Don’t make me tell you twice.”
He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked. You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits. It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.
“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”
You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.
His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was. You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet. You didn’t know why, but you were.
“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly. You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.
“O-one,” you stammered.
He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain. But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.
“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward. Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused. You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!
He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him. He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.
“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed. “You are in dire need of a punishment. You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”
You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal. “Thank you, for going easy on me…”
“Where’d that fire go, huh? Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.
He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers. “This fuckin’ mouth. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? Come on baby, open up. I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”
He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.
“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”
You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip. You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.
“Like what you see? You’re so wet for it,” he purred. You tried to speak but words abandoned you.
It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed. His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth. He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting. You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.
“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy. “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock. Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”
You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe. His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.
He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough. You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.
“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.
“Wait? I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled. “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring. Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”
Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra. Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands.
“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside. “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”
You shook your head, looking down at the floor. A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.
“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you. You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly. “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason. You gonna be good for me now?”
You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.
“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs. “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”
You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind. You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more. Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.
“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.
He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority. “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart? Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?” He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”
He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.
“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.
“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands. A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers. They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.
His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off. You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.
“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor. “I can smell how much you want it.” He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue. “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised. You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.
The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs. You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come. And you really, really wanted to come.
Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily. It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.
“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”
“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now. Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”
Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment. Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you.
“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth. “Beg me. To fuck you.”
“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”
He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed. It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.
Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true. And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother. He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.
“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”
You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.
“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”
Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not. At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.
He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you. Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.
Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.
“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it? Feels good when daddy fucks you?”
You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.
“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher. Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer. He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright. He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.
“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned. “Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”
When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face. “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”
He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed. You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.
“Gonna come, pretty girl? Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.
“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed. “Please!”
“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop. Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”
You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day). He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.
The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out. He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.
“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked. It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip. He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt. “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?”
The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath. You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.
“You look so good like this.”
It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”
“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer. “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”
“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.
He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.
His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.
“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”
#lee bodecker x reader#dark!lee bodecker x reader#lee bodecker smut#lee bodecker x you#lee bodecker x y/n#dark fic
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harmless (ix)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety
Word count: 3.9k
A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like for suggesting the backstory thing!
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Additional Scene || Previous Part || Series Masterlist
Hot single in your area! 😈 Find your solemate!
Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.
Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer.
He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already.
Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.
Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message!
Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦
Decline/Accept
He wants to strangle you.
______
“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you.
“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”
He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact.
He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.
“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.
“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”
His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.
He can hear your laughter even without the phone.
“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”
He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo.
“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”
“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.
“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.
“I know, you told me.”
Oh.
“Okay, what now?”
“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge.
“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.
You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.
You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.
His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing.
It never comes.
Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards.
“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”
Just like that, the show was ruined.
He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack.
“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement.
“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?”
He stares at you.
“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”
Pepper would not like that.
“That’s not even evil.”
“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”
You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.
He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long.
Fuck, he really had only one option.
He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.
He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.
“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him.
“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.
You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”
The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.
“Hey man, I-
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.
“I need your wings.”
“I was right. Bye.”
It was a long shot anyway.
“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”
“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference.
Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath.
“Yeah.”
“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”
“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”
He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition.
“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.
“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”
“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation.
He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.
He takes a seat on the ground and waits.
“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.
“I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.
“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”
“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.
“Do you not like your team?”
“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”
“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.
He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”
Although it was appreciated.
“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it.
“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?
“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”
“Building’s dark, red is good.”
“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”
“I don’t have anything against them.”
“Then why do you do this every week?”
This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it.
“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”
“No other reason?”
“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”
“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”
“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”
“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.
“My roommate.”
“I didn’t see him when I came over.”
“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”
Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.
“He hates superheroes?”
“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips.
“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by.
“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”
“Not even a tragic backstory?”
“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”
“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.
“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”
“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion.
“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”
“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects.
You stare at him. He stares at you.
“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”
“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.
“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”
“Gorilla.”
“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”
“Where?”
“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”
“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.
“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”
“What the fuc-”
“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”
Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.”
“Raw and uncut, baby.”
“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”
“Witch.”
“Huh?”
“She was a witch who stole my hair.”
“Wha-”
He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead.
Fucking finally.
He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.
Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.
“Buck,” Sam greets him.
“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place.
A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”
“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight.
“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”
Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam.
You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming.
“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him.
“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly.
What the shit.
Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.
“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you.
“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.
This is not what Bucky wanted.
“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”
“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.
“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious.
You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment.
“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.
“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”
“Very positively.”
Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”
You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”
“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying.
“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”
“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”
“Sam just get the damn-”
“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.
“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles.
“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”
Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.”
“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.
Showoff.
“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.
“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles.
“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.
“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”
“After the ‘A’?”
“After the ‘A’,” you confirm.
“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.”
“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified.
“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”
“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”
“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground.
“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.
“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”
“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below.
“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.
Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient.
“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”
“I like red.”
As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes.
“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.
“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.
You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.
“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.”
Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.
“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand.
“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.
You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”
“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally.
Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.
“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”
Bucky rolls his eyes.
“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly.
“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling.
“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.
“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”
“Got the motorcycle.”
“See you there.” Sam nods.
“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.
“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”
“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.
“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure.
When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”
“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”
He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.
“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.
“Yeah.”
“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.
“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”
“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”
From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business.
Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that?
“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”
“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts.
“What?”
“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”
“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.
“Just don’t.”
“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”
“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”
“What about when you’re not?”
“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all.
“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”
He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”
“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”
“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.
“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”
“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”
Adorable? Adorable?
“I hate you.”
“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”
He wants to cry.
______
By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available.
Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.
He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.
“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.
“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly.
“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?”
“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.
“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued.
Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.
“She made this?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.
“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.
“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour.
“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”
“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.”
It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.
“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.
He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb.
Tony has an idea.
And that was generally bad news.
Next part
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#harmless fic#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier#bucky barnes#bucky
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living and reviving II
yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops
summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not
warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?
tomhollandxreader
/////////////////////// prev
So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.
“Don’t follow me.”
Not now, not ever.
That had been three weeks ago.
And it still fucking hurt like hell.
It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.
Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.
After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.
Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.
Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.
And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.
It was a vicious cycle of hell.
Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.
It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.
You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.
“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.
“You never normally sleep talk.”
“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.
“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”
“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.
“Toms here.”
“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.
“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”
“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.
“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”
It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.
“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.
“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”
“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.
“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“
“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”
“I’m not babys-“
“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeh”
That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.
“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”
“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.
After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?
With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.
What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.
“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”
“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.
“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.
“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.
“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”
And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.
After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.
“So… how have you been?”
“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.
“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”
“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”
“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.
“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”
“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”
“OUR kid”
“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“
“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.
“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”
It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.
“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”
“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”
“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”
“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.
Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.
“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“
“Fuck.”
You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.
She was just kicking really really hard. Right?
“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“
Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.
“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.
“Y/n sit down I can-“
He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.
“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.
“Wha-are you-are you okay?”
“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”
~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~
taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03
#tom holland#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland angst#tom x reader#peter parkqueue#tom holland oneshot#tom holland x reader#tomholland#dad!tom#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x pregnant!reader#Tom Holland fluff#tom holland fluff
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