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rocorambles · 3 years

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Jealousy

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader (Main), Osamu x Reader (Side)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Rape/Non-Con, Misuse of Duct Tape, Non-Con Bondage, Forced Breeding, Forced Impregnation, Delusional Mindset

Summary: Atsumu is determined to prove that he’s the better twin for you.

The first time Atsumu meets you he doesn’t remember you so much as he gets stuck on the fact that Osamu is dating someone. Osamu is fucking dating someone and Atsumu is still here single and alone in his late twenties, not a girl anywhere even in sight. It makes him livid as he stares at the identical face gently smiling at you, affectionately holding your hand, looking so damn happy and content.

What does he have that Atsumu doesn’t? A successful food chain? Cool. But is he a pro-athlete? A medal winning Olympic athlete? One of the best setters in the country? In the world? It’s infuriating to think about and as much as Atsumu loves volleyball, even he dreams of love, marriage, a family of his own late at night when he’s alone on a hotel bed, only Sakusa’s breathing from the other bed in the room keeping him company.

And those thoughts consume him long after he bids farewell to Osamu and you and suddenly the MSBY Jackals are in an uproar as every team member takes turns being sexiled by their blond setter when they’re off at their away games, as Atsumu nonchalantly strolls into the locker rooms to prep for practice, back littered with scratch marks that Bokuto tries to shield from Hinata’s eyes when the orange haired athlete curiously asks when Atsumu got a cat.

Girl after girl walks in and out of his bed, his life. Most never lasting more than a night, a few returning for a couple more rounds in the bedsheets, one even manages to interest him enough to grab a cup of coffee with. But it’s the same verdict every time. He’s good enough to fool around with and he’s great in bed, but Miya Atsumu is not husband material, not when he’s already married to volleyball.

The rejection only fuels his inner turmoil and the green eyed monster inside of him grows and grows, festering and spreading throughout him the more he stops attempting his futile attempts and instead turns his energy to loitering around Osamu and you, inviting himself over for dinners after practice, trying his hand at helping you in the kitchen for brunch on the weekends, crashing in your guest bedroom to the point that Osamu and you gift him a spare key to your shared home.

Neither of you think much of it, Osamu joking to you privately that this is just Atsumu being the needy emotional brother he really is while you’re just glad to be able to get to know Osamu’s family better. So none of you notice how brown eyes inquisitively trail after the both of you, watching how the two of you seamlessly work out both your hectic lives, never letting the long hours at your job or Osamu’s restaurant get in the way of your relationship, always directing a warm smile or gaze at the other despite how obviously exhausted or far away from a good mood you’re in.

And Atsumu lets himself believe that this could be his as he hungrily stares at the way you gently caress his brother’s hand, the affection in your gaze as you tenderly kiss him on the lips, the playful wink you give his twin when you tell him you’re getting ready for bed. He lets himself dream that it’s him who you direct those loving gazes to as you cheerfully greet him in the morning, handing him a coffee made just the way he likes it, placing a plate full of delicious piping hot food in front of him. He lets his hand wander down his shorts at night, straining to hear every detail, every decibel of your moans as Osamu and you make love at night, closing his eyes and stroking his cock as he imagines it’s him who’s forcing those beautiful cries from your mouth.

But it’s not all a picture perfect paradise and Atsumu carefully listens in, alerted by the raising voices he hears through the walls as more and more time passes by. He’d noticed the growing tension in the house, noticed how the two of you were less affectionate, almost awkwardly shuffling around each other when both of you were home from work these past few months. But he couldn’t think of what could have caused both of you to act so strangely, so suddenly, when everything had seemed so swell.

Curiosity has him placing his ear on the wall and he winces when he hears you shout, anger and hurt in your voice that makes his heart clench painfully, asking when Osamu was going to propose, telling his brother how you’re sick of waiting, how you want to get married and have kids soon. Something shattering inside of him when your voice becomes small and hesitant.

“I thought that’s what you wanted too, Osamu. Isn’t that why we decided to start living together?”

He expects his brother to leap at the opportunity, to reassure you, yes, absolutely yes, we can get married right away. He knows that if their positions were switched, that’s what he would be doing. But his jaw drops in disbelief, morphing into a scowl when Osamu pleads for you to calm down, to be patient.

“I do want that. But just not right now.”

“If not now, when? We’re not getting any younger, Osamu.”

“But my chain is in talks of expanding and there’s so much going on. I just don’t have time-”

There’s a heavy silence as Osamu is quick to snap his mouth shut and Atsumu knows he’s cursing himself for the slip of his tongue, already knows the next words that are going to come out of your mouth, words he himself is all too familiar with from his own past failed relationships.

“You just don’t have time for us? Me?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

But it’s too late and Atsumu flinches when he hears loud angry movement, Osamu’s voice imploring you to calm down and stop what you’re doing to no avail as you stomp out of the house, slamming the front door behind you as you make your way to a friend’s house to spend the night apart.

No one speaks of that night after you return to the house the next day and the three of you continue as normal. Or at least as normal as you can be after an unresolved disagreement that your relationship ultimately hinges around continues ticking like a time bomb in everyone’s minds. And it finally counts down to zero when Osamu packs his bags and plants a cold chaste kiss on your lips before heading to the airport and making his way to seal the deal on the restaurant expansion that’s taken over his entire life.

Maybe it’s Atsumu’s fault that the two of you are drunk out of your minds, sprawled out on the living room floor. Scratch that. It’s definitely Atsumu’s fault and he drunkenly smiles at how out of it you are, heart warming at the giddy genuine smile spread across your face, happiness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen ever since that argument Osamu and you had. And oh, he didn’t mean to say that out loud and he panics, quickly sobering up when your smile falls at his words, eyes glazed in reminiscence as you think of that night.

Atsumu isn’t known for his patience, but he waits, not uttering a single word, not moving an inch as you open yourself up to him, telling him your hopes and dreams that so closely match his own of a loving relationship, marriage, family, sharing about the argument Osamu and you had (unknowing of the fact that Atsumu already knows far more than he should). But when you frustratedly laugh at yourself, asking him rhetorically if you’re just being silly and naive, if you’re just a grown woman trying to fulfill a little girl’s childish dream, you’re stunned by the fierce denial from the blonde athlete determinedly staring at you.

“No. You’re not being silly or naive. ‘Samu’s being the idiot. Any man would be lucky and proud to have you as his wife and to create a family with you.”

Those words resonate with you, linger in your mind, further branded into your memory by the sheer sincerity Atsumu drowned them in. And maybe that’s why you find it impossible to play house anymore, find it impossible to live a forced and fake lie when you’re not truly happy anymore. It’s hard, heartbreakingly so, to part ways with the silver haired man when he still holds a part of your heart, but it’s for the best. Why continue when neither of you are on the same page in the long run? Why waste more precious years when you can actively work towards your desired future with someone else who wants the same things as you?

It’s logical. It makes sense. And yet when you meet up with Atsumu at his apartment for dinner one night to catch up a few months or so after the break up you’re still doubting your decision.

You had been surprised the blond setter had been so adamant about keeping in touch even after his brother and you separated, but if you’re honest, he’s surprisingly sweet and caring, someone you consider a true friend. So as awkward as it might seem to outsiders, the two of you remain in close contact and you happily agree to his invite when both your busy schedules finally match up.

But as much as you like Atsumu, the two of you really need to stop drinking so much when you see each other and you let out a cry of frustration when your eyes immediately tear up when Atsumu casually asks how you’re doing as both of you sprawl out on his couch, trying to wave away his worried face as he hovers far too close to you, telling him it’s just the alcohol making you more emotional than usual.

And you still blame all the drinks he had generously kept refilling for you for the way you sob and cling onto him as he wraps you in a tight hug, telling him how you worry all the time about whether or not you made the right decision to break up with Osamu, whether or not you’re ever going to find someone else, ever going to get married, ever going to have that dream romance you’ve always wanted, ever going to have the happy full family you’ve always yearned for.

It all comes out of you so easily. But everything with Atsumu has always come easy and you don’t think much of it, finding comfort in his solid presence as he continues to hold you, letting him readjust and find a comfortable position-

You scramble to separate from him when lips tenderly meet yours, limbs flailing as you shove the man away from you, eyes comically wide open as you stare agape at Atsumu.

“What are you- We can’t- No no no. All of this is wrong. This would KILL Osamu-”

Something inside of Atsumu snaps when he hears his brother’s name from your lips. Even after all this time, you’re still thinking of him? You still care about him? When the better twin is right in front of your fucking face?

He doesn’t even register he’s shouting those questions in your face, barely registering your terrified eyes as you try to shrink away from him. But your movement of pulling away from him snaps him back to reality and reflexes has his hand twisting in your hair, grabbing you by your roots, fury making him numb to the way you desperately claw at his grip as he drags you to his bedroom.

You’re too focused on soothing your aching skull when he finally releases you by throwing you onto his bed and pitiful tears stream down your face as you gingerly hold your head, ignorant of how the athlete is rummaging through his closet. In hindsight you’ll wonder why you didn’t try to run while his back was turned, although you already know the answer. This is just Atsumu in one of his moods. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’ll apologize in just a second. Those are the thoughts fleeting through your mind amidst the sore ache Atsumu has left behind.

But a warning bell rings relentlessly inside of you as you finally look up when you sense him approaching you, a thick roll of silver duct tape in his hands.

Had Atsumu always looked so...intimidating?

You try to fight back as you’re suddenly pinned to the bed by a muscular body, flailing and thrashing as calloused hands hold your arms above your hand, tightly wrapping your wrists together, looping extra lengths of the tape around the headboard, securely fastening your arms up and out of the way. But it’s useless, pathetic really, although Atsumu thinks there’s something adorable about how hard you’re trying, only to be easily batted away by his much stronger body as he tears off your clothes and bends your knees, taping your calves to your thighs, one side at a time until both your legs are bound.

And then there’s silence and stillness other than your wriggling tied form as Atsumu sits back and admires the view of your naked body, reality so much more lucious and gorgeous than he had ever imagined. You struggle against your tight restraints, recoiling as brown eyes leer at you, ravenously devouring the sight of your heaving breasts, raking down your figure before finally landing on your bare pussy on full display as his hands spread your bound legs on either side of you, palms searing your inner thighs with their unwanted warmth as he holds you open.

One day he won’t need the resilient tape to hold you down and keep you still. One day you’ll let him have you of your own free will. One day you’ll see that he was always the one for you. But he can’t help but feel that there’s something breathtaking about how vulnerable and pretty you are, laid out for him like a wrapped present, something filthily attractive about how striking the silver stripes are against your skin.

One day he won’t need the resilient tape...but that doesn’t mean he'll stop using it.

You shudder as he trails his fingers over the duct tape, grinning at you all the while.

“Can’t have you moving too much if I’m going to breed you. You’ll make all my cum spill out of you.”

He tsks when you frantically struggle at his words, pathetic begs and pleads spilling from your lips as dread fills you from learning exactly what Atsumu has planned for you and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how exposed you are, how tight the front of his pants look as his erection presses against the fabric, how far too close he is to your most intimate part. And you sob as he leans on top of you, pressing his toned body against yours, something hard pressing against your bare pussy as he captures your lips in a kiss to silence you.

“I thought you would be more thankful considering how you were practically in my arms begging me for kids not even a hour ago. And now I’m here ready to give you what you want and you’re making such a fuss.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you only sob even harder, body shaking and trembling, sniveling as you stare up at him with teary eyes, begging him to stop.

“Oh shut up. What? Are you worried about the order of things? Worried I’ll just knock you up and leave you alone? Don’t be stupid. I’ll make sure to put a ring on your finger and marry you after this. Who cares about the order of things when the end result is the same.”

Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, unsure where to even begin telling him just how wrong his reasoning is, unsure how to even process his words. Ring? Marry? What-

But thoughts fly out of your head when a hungry mouth suddenly descends on your breasts, harshly sucking a nipple between wet lips, fingers roughly twisting and pulling at your other nipple and you wail at the jolt of sudden stimulation, too focused on the tongue lapping at your nipples and lances of arousal swirling inside of you to notice how his free hand is shoving his pants and boxers down and off.

You hate how quick you are to melt into the delirious pleasure, body craving for the touch of another, to be brought to new heights by another after being left to your own devices for the past few months and you can feel your pussy clench and throb, feeling so exposed and empty, practically begging to be stuffed full as slick begins to form between your legs. And as if Atsumu can hear your body’s silent cry for more, he begins to push the tip of his cock inside of you and your back arches, mouth instinctively opening as he takes his time, pressing past your tight opening, slipping further and further inside of you until he’s finally fully sheathed inside of you, letting your body adjust to him as he continues licking and sucking on your breasts, groaning as he feels your tight walls clamp around him with every move of his mouth.

Atsumu is not known for his patience, but he tries his damn best to take it as slow as he bearably can for you, dragging his cock back and forth against your gummy walls, constantly adjusting the angle of his hips with every stroke until you’re crying out, and he smirks triumphantly, memorizing the exact position and angle that has you seeing stars as he continuously hits that spongy spot inside of you. And all it takes is for his hand to slide between the two of you and gently circle your clit as he continues his steady assault to have you breaking to pieces underneath him, garbled versions of his name escaping your mouth as your orgasm washes over you in heavy tall waves, his own release joining with yours as your pussy convulses and milks him of his sticky white liquid.

As post-coital bliss disintegrates, shame and relief flood through you, shame for enjoying it, relief that this ordeal is finally over and you wait. Wait for him to remove the tape. Wait for him to pull out of you. Grimacing as he affectionately nuzzles you and litters your face with kisses. But you panic, pure fear flooding through you when you feel his cock twitching inside of you once more, growing inside of you again.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? Need to make sure I fill you with so much cum that your body has no choice but to get pregnant.”

And he stays true to his words, fucking you over and over again, sometimes hard and rough, sometimes passionate and sensual, sometimes soft and gentle, but always finishing inside of you, adding to the splattered pooling mess inside of you. You feel disgusting, the increasingly wet noises as he thrusts in and out of the sticky wet mess inside of you permeating throughout the room, stomach feeling so bloated with cum that you swear you must be pregnant already.

Quiet, relieved sobs wrack your body when the weight on top of you finally lifts, when he finally pulls out of you and your body slumps down, all the tension leaving it, discomfort taking its place as you feel a torrent of liquid move to rush out of your overfilled cunt, the beginnings of it already starting to trickle out. But despite your aching dry throat, you manage to let out a strangled cry of disbelief when your hips are uncomfortably raised up, upper body almost folded in half as Atsumu keeps your glistening pussy upright, not allowing even a single drop more to escape.

And in this new position you have no choice but to watch, anxiety coursing through you when he tears off another piece of duct tape, chest hyperventilating as he places it over your gaping hole, effectively sealing you shut and despite the fact that you thought you had no more tears left to shed, new salty teardrops slide down your cheeks at the debauched site of your own pussy being treated as nothing more than an object, a receptacle for his seed, his beaming smug face between your legs only adding to your humiliation as he smiles down at his handiwork.

All you can do is mindlessly stare when he directs his smile at you, verbally praising himself for how smart he is for finding a way to keep his cum inside of you and making sure all his hard work doesn’t go to waste, mind and body feeling numb and broken as he finally lets your body lay fully back on the bed, slumping down next to you in exhaustion and cuddling your listless and still bound figure.

“We can go pick out rings together tomorrow, okay? Maybe try a few more times for some runts after. You think the more I cum in you, the better the chance that you’ll have twins?”

You don’t know, but you have a sinking feeling that you’ll soon be finding out.

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mcyt-amber-tftsmp · 3 years

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐛 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

A— Abnormal (what makes them different?)

What makes Ranbob different from you is that fact that you are human while he is not. He is a literal semi-half enderman while he he is also a semi-half unknown hybrid. He finds himself pretty dangerous to you since he thinks that one day he will harm you in some way and it's just gonna make him fill up with so much guilt.

B— Bad Habits (what bad habits do they have?)

Ranbob has a bad habit of scratching his arms which results in many new scars and sometimes he would actually scratch so much that it will start bleeding. This would actually worry you a lot about him thinking why he does it but you do know it pains him a lot and would help him patch it up.

C— Crying (what makes them cry?)

The only thing that makes Ranbob cry is when he has nightmares about you dying in different ways which could either be by his own hands or by something or someone else. This does cause him to wake up with a jolt and there was a time when he accidentally woke you up by jolting too much from a nightmare and this made you worried and comforted him.

D— Death (How do they die? With family or alone? How does their partner find out?)

Ranbob's death was basically a cause of his enderwalk state which he couldn't control and he was slightly out of control but one side of him was fighting to escape it and the only way was to kill himself off which you didn't want but you had to let it happen. It would be a pretty selfish act for him considering he will be leaving you but the one thing he will know is that you are safe and that's what matters the most but you wouldn't even leave his dead body and just continue crying in place.

E— Emotion (what's the emotion they tend to push away the most?)

Ranbob tends to push away his fears the most. He doesn't want you to worry and there are times when he would let fear come back to him and he hates showing it a lot in front of you but you keep telling him not to considering we all fear something but Ranbob has his reasons.

F— Frustrated (how much would it take to push them off the edge?)

If you annoy Ranbob when he's not having a good day to the point he breaks, he will lash out completely and would attack without thinking and when he sees you hurt his anger will wash away and get replaced with fear and regret and would apologize so many times that he would just start crying.

G— Gullible (who are they most gullible to and why?)

Himself. Ranbob has changed for the better because of you and he thinks he can just let go off his past mistakes and move on. But that's where he is wrong considering he has voices sometimes saying negative things and reminding him off his past wrong doings. He knows he did those things and he has no excuse for it. He hates himself for this.

H— Humiliation (someone says something humiliating about them)

"Freak!"

He basically knew that it was directed at him but he looked like he didn't care on the outside but on the inside he was slightly hurt. He doesn't show it. You on the other hand who was with him and heard someone yell this out to him were not having it and gave out a snarky reply to the man that legit shut him up. Ranbob's happy that you stood up for him but deep down he's still hurt and you can tell he is behind that indifferent expression.

I— Insecure (what are their insecurities?)

How he looks. Honestly he looks like he doesn't care but his insecurities have a way of crawling back to him about how he looks. I mean he is slightly scary at first which he isn't a fan of but he's actually a nice guy once you get to know him but it's still a thing for him which he can't let go at all.

J— Jealous (what makes them feel jealous?)

When someone flirts with you. He will literally glare down at the person by holding your waist and standing behind you while he looks at the person flirting dead in the eye and he is like a few seconds away from killing them too if they don't hurry up and run.

K— Knife (how do they feel about hurting others?)

Ranbob used to hurt whoever came to Mizu cause he did kill a lot of people who previously came before you did. Now he just doesn't like it but there are times when he looks at a sword he gets weird hallucinations of it being slightly covered in blood and it will really throw him off and make him drop it before picking it up later on.

L— Love (who was their first love? Was it returned? How did it end?)

Well his first and last love would be you and yes it was returned and you guys are still in a relationship with each other. Ranbob loves you dearly but fears he will hurt you. You love him a lot more than he knows.

M— Mindfulness (what calms them down when they're feeling anxious or depressed?)

When Ranbob holds onto you or when you hug him, all his anxiousness goes away and it also helps him come from his depressive episodes. Usually it would sometimes be the other way but it also come in this way too.

N— Nightmare (do they have them? How often? What's their reaction, and what are they about?)

Ranbob has nightmares most of the time but not all the time and they would mostly be about you either leaving him or dying in his hands or some other way and he always jolts awake with small tears forming in his eyes and would look around to see that you are safe and not harmed and that's what calms him down but he is slightly scared to fall asleep again but he does anyways with zero nightmares.

O— Obsess (what they're obsessed with that you might judge them for? What's their "weird" obsession?)

The fact that Ranbob legitimately looks up to Dream and that Dream is his idol he just thinks that the way he worships him may weird you out but you don't find it weird at all but he just thinks otherwise without your knowledge. I wouldn't say he's obsessed but it looks like it in front of other people.

P—Pressure (what stresses them out to the breaking point?)

Blood happens to stress him out to his breaking point cause it always reminds him of how he killed people with no mercy and it just makes him lose it sometimes that he would break down at times with his negative voices throwing in things altogether.

Q— Quirks (what's one of their quirks they consider a flaw that you like?)

Sometimes Ranbob feels like having heterochromia is a flaw considering not many people have them and the fact that's it's pretty uncommon but you seem to love them and would always find them pretty which would make Ranbob smile knowing you love them and he tries to like them too.

R— Repressed (what memories do they repress or they wish they could forget?)

Ranbob wants to forget his wrong doings from the past where he killed off the many people that came down here but it just seems to come crawling back to him and he hates it and just wants it gone for good.

S— Sorrow (would they feel empty after the death of a loved one?)

Ranbob would completely shut down after he sees you die in front of him. He would just cry for hours and would blame himself for not being able to help your nor protect you at all and the guilt happens to increase and eats him up bad.

T— Time (what if they had a limited time to live?)

Ranbob would make the most out of it by being with you. He would do anything in his power to do the things you love and go on out for walks and other things you both love doing together. He would hate to leave you alone when his time is up and you would just be felling empty without him.

U— Umbrage (what pisses them off? What offends them?)

What pisses him off the most is when people flirt with you cause it makes him jealous and would be on the verge of killing them. At this point nothing offends him but if someone says something offensive about him, he won't hesitate to bring out that netherite sword and scare the person off.

V— Vent (how do they let things out after a bad day?)

When it comes to venting out things after a bad day, Ranbob would stay away from you as far as possible so he doesn't hurt you at all considering the way he lets out his anger is by punching things like the wall or sometimes throwing something which won't break. It does scare you a bit but you would cautiously come up to him and hug him to make him calm down which works well.

W— Weakness (what is their personal weakness?)

Ranbob's weakness would be you but not in a bad way or anything. If something were to happen to you, he would become pretty vulnerable. He would do anything in his power to protect you even if it meant sacrificing himself in order to do that.

X— X-Double-Minus (random sad headcanon)

One time, Ranbob was venting out his anger like a lot like he usually does but this time it was a bit too much. You on the other hand tried to calm him down but he was slightly blinded with anger that he accidentally pushed you away by clawing your cheek made you fall backwards on the floor slightly hard but not so much. Ranbob's anger immediately washed away once he saw what he did and all that got replaced with fear, regret and guilt which cause him to apologize so many times and a panic attack. You came up to him and hugged him to calm him down and tell him that it's alright and that you know he never meant it which slightly helps.

Y— Yearn (what is one thing they want that they know they can't have?)

The one thing Ranbob wants is to reverse time and fix his mistakes but he knows that it's impossible and he has to live with the amount of guilt and regret he has with him. But he knows he has you that will help him along the way.

Z— Zoophobia (is there any animal/bug/creature that scares them?)

Ranbob is legitimately an enderman hybrid and what bugs do endermen despise or gets scared off? The answer is endermites. He's not a huge fan of them in general and is kind of glad that they don't exist anywhere near him cause if it did he would lose it.

#ranbob #ranbob x reader #ranbob x y/n #ranbob x you #tales from the smp #alphabets #angst #angst alphabet #mcyt #dream smp #lost city of mizu

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years

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Short Stack

Okay, so I recently started a series called Saving Her Sanity, and I had only gotten one part posted. But the more I reread it, the more I really hated the way I’d written it. So I’m postponing that and starting a different series. It’s gonna be a real rollercoaster ride of emotions, so buckle up.

Pro Hero! KiriBaku x ProHero! Fem! Reader

**18+ Fic**

Warnings: Angst, fluff, habitual self-harm, dissociation, swearing from obvious sources, alcohol. Coming up in later parts: smexy times, biting kink, double penetration, unprotected sex, more angst, traumatic past (but not super detailed cuz I can’t handle that shit my heart hurts already)

Word Count: 6.9k

Author’s Note: Alright folks, the reader is a fucking savage and stronger than the fucking hulk cause why the fuck not? Tbh body type isn’t discussed, the only thing is that she’s short af and the angry pomeranian and redhead boulder are freaking giants. Also, everyone’s in their mid-late twenties here.

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy the read!

You dove out of the way of chunks of concrete, barely making it behind the corner of the alleyway. You took off sprinting, hopefully drawing the villain away from civilian activity. Thankfully he chased after you, onto an abandoned street, out in the open where you had the upper hand. Twirling around, you materialized a scythe and swung it straight at the enormous arm coming at you, nearly chopping off the villain’s fist completely.

He stopped in his tracks and howled in pain, giving you the opening you needed. You charged him and dropped to the ground, taking his legs out as you slid under him. A chain materialized in place of the scythe and you wrapped it around his ankles and his undamaged hand, hog tying him in place. You’d only been fighting the villain for about five minutes, and backup wasn’t going to be there for at least another two, so you put a quirk cancelling cuff on him and began to wrap his bleeding wrist to keep him from bleeding out.

As you waited for backup, you sat down and leaned against the villain, who’d passed out from blood loss, and tended to your own wounds from the encounter. Backup arrived, but it wasn’t what you expected. Instead of police, stomping toward you was none other than the number two hero Ground Zero. His vermillion eyes glanced between you and the villain that was quite literally twice your size, and the expression on his face looked ever so slightly confused at the scene he was witnessing.

He stopped at your feet, glaring down at you for a few seconds, looked back at the villain, then back at you, and when he opened his mouth to speak the most absurd thing you’d ever heard came from his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated at the implication behind the question. Without a word, you stood up and dusted the dirt off your butt. You walked a few yards away, pulled out your phone and dialed the police, making sure they came with a vehicle that could fit the huge villain. When you turned back around to face Ground Zero, you didn’t expect him to be so close to you. He leaned down so you were face to face, narrowing his eyes at you and letting out what sounded like a growl. “I don’t like being ignored, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes and glared right back at him. “Well I don’t like to be undermined, Ground Zero. I may be small but I can handle myself in a fight.” And it was true. You were very small, at a whopping 5 feet tall (152 cm). His eye twitched and jaw clenched, and you could almost see the steam coming from his ears. Before he could retort, you saw something being launched from behind him. You swung your leg under him and pinned him to the ground just in time to dodge a manhole cover as it whizzed above your heads.

Without hesitation you launched toward the second villain that appeared and quickly had him immobilized and cuffed on the ground next to the first. You turned back to the number two hero, who was still on the ground watching you with wide eyes. You walked over and held your hand out to him, offering to help him up. To your surprise he actually grabbed your hand and let you pull him to stand. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead looking at it, bewildered.

“Can I have my hand back?” you looked at him blankly. He blinked a few times before releasing his grip. Soon the police arrived to take the villains, and once they left, you began to walk back to the agency since your patrol had ended a little while ago. Ground Zero ran after you and grabbed you by the wrist, turning you around to face him.

“What’s your name?” You raised an eyebrow at the man. “My hero name is Inventory. Now If you don’t mind, I’ve got paperwork to fill out.” He let go of your arm and walked alongside you. You knew why he was walking with you, seeing as you worked as a hero at his agency. As you walked into the building he turned to you with a quizzical look. Without even glancing in his direction you gave a small sigh. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t even know I work under you?”

He seemed slightly shocked. He made it a point to know who was working for him. After all, he couldn’t have anybody screwing up his agency’s reputation. Somehow, though, you’d managed to slip under his radar. Though considering your stature, hero rank, and the fact that you hadn’t made a single mistake since your debut, he figured he’d just brushed you off.

After you filled out all your paperwork, you changed out of your hero costume and into workout clothes and hit the agency’s gym. Like you always did, you went straight to the separate room reserved for sparring, expecting to have to go back out and find a partner. Today, though, you didn’t. As you entered the room, there was a certain angry blonde and a very muscular red-haired man sitting against the wall.

“Well if it isn’t short stack” Ground Zero called out to you. Well that’s one way to get you mad. You tilted your head sharply to one side, then the other, your neck popping loudly as you took a deep breath to calm your anger. “Hello, Ground Zero. I didn’t expect you to be in here. I’ll just leave you to it then.” The irritation seeped into your voice as you turned around to leave the room.

Of course, the jackass had to go and say something else. “What? You too scared to spar against me? Am I too big for you to handle?” God damn it. You both knew you had taken down much larger opponents than him, and you knew it wasn’t very smart to fight your boss, but at this point you were pissed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose.

He stood up and began stalking towards you, his heavy footsteps ringing in your ears. You dropped your duffel and whirled around, walking to him and meeting him in the middle of the room. At least sparring was only hand-to-hand combat, because you knew he’d easily overpower you if he could use his quirk. But you trained almost exclusively in hand-to-hand, because your quirk wasn’t combat related.

As you dropped into your fighting stance, he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly confused at the odd stance you were in. In all your years of training, you had developed your very own fighting style. He quickly shrugged off his confusion and put his arms up in front of his face, ready for whatever you were about to throw at him. The two of you stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. As predicted, his patience ran out and you easily ducked and dodged the first few quick jabs he threw.

He kept throwing punches, each one a little more intense, and you could see he was getting irritated from how you were dodging every single one. Soon enough he was lunging at you with each punch he threw, his anger getting the best of him. Five minutes of him punching and you dodging had him fuming. You hadn’t even thrown a single punch. Still, it was a game of cat and mouse with you dodging everything he threw.

The whole time he’d been aiming at your face and shoulders, keeping his strikes high. But suddenly he launched at you and his right fist aimed straight for your stomach. Got him. You planted your right foot and spun counter-clockwise, grabbed his wrist with your left hand, grabbed his shoulder with your right, and used his own momentum to fling him over your head. He landed on his back with a thud, all the air pushed out of his lungs from the impact.

You knew he’d have to take a few seconds to get up from that, and that meant you won the match in a single move. You stood over his head, smirking down at him. He glared up at you with eyes wide as saucers, wheezing from the throw, and the redhead cackled from his spot against the wall. You kneeled down and hunched over, your noses inches apart, and said, “Still think you’re too big for me to handle?”

Staring down at him, you stood again and walked over to the redhead. “Hi, I’m (y/l/n) (y/n), hero name Inventory.” You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake. He took it and introduced himself as Kirishima Eijirou, a.k.a. Red Riot. You walked back over to Ground Zero and once again held your hand out to help him up. This time, he slapped your hand away and got up himself. “The name’s Bakugou Katsuki,” he said, scowling at you.

Kirishima got up and came over, “Come on Bakugou, don’t be a jerk just cause you lost. Sorry about that (y/l/n), he’s just prideful.” You chuckled lightly, waving it off, “It’s fine. I’ve heard ALL about Ground Zero’s friendly personality and peppy attitude. Anyway, It’s been fun, but I should get going.” Kirishima stopped you before you could walk away. “Hey, (y/l/n), we were gonna go out for drinks after this, you wanna join us?” You looked over to Bakugou, who didn’t give any input, choosing instead to glare at the corner. “Sure I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

You picked up your duffel and went back to the locker room to change into your civilian clothes. The bar was only a couple blocks away, so you all left your stuff in your cars and walked over. Bakugou didn’t say anything the whole way there, still wallowing in his humiliating defeat. You, being the smartass you are, decided to poke the bear.

“Stop sulking Bakugou, I haven’t lost a sparring match since high school. Besides, if we were to use our quirks you’d most likely win the match. You don’t gotta be all depressed about it.” His head snapped toward you and his hands popped and crackled at his sides. It was probably meant to scare you, but you only put your hands up in mock surrender.

When you got to the bar you all ordered your drinks and sat down at a booth. Kirishima looked at you and started asking questions. “So, (y/l/n), if you’re so sure you’d lose to Bakugou’s quirk, what’s yours?” You answered him like you answered everyone else who’d asked you the same question. “Basically, it’s like an inventory in a video game, hence the hero name. I can “store” things in a pocket of space and materialize them whenever I need them,” then you held out your hand and materialized your car keys and cell phone.

His eyes went wide and he started gushing about how cool and convenient that is. Meanwhile, Bakugou just rolled his eyes and mumbled “showoff” under his breath. Kirishima elbowed him and told him to behave, making you giggle at the dynamic of the two. Despite being at a bar, the only one that drank any alcohol was Kirishima. What really shocked you was that he was a terrible lightweight, and getting him to walk back to the agency was proving extremely difficult, because he was leaning nearly all his weight on you and Bakugou didn’t bother to help.

In fact, Bakugou was busy snickering at the sight of you trying to keep Kirishima from stumbling out onto the road and taking you with him. You’d be lying if you said Kirishima wasn’t heavy, but years of weight training and hero work pays off cause you could easily squat over 200 lbs even if you were tiny. So about a block from the agency, you’d had enough of trying to keep Kirishima from falling over and you just stopped walking.

Kirishima was too out of it to notice. But Bakugou turned and started teasing you for not being able to handle the weight. You just rolled your eyes at him. Before Bakugou could move and take him off your hands, you took a deep breath, and hauled Kirishima onto your shoulders in a fireman carry. Bakugou’s jaw dropped, and he froze in place, just staring at the scene in front of him. That both annoyed you and made you extremely proud, cause you just impressed the number two hero. You were sure the scene was at least a little funny, a giant hanging off your tiny frame, but you ignored it.

Once you had Kirishima secured on your shoulders, you started the trek to the agency. Again, Bakugou was completely silent, but you could tell it wasn’t because he was sulking. Once you were back at the agency, Bakugo led you to his car and got Kirishima settled in the back seat while you stretched out your arms, popping your shoulders and neck. You were about to say bye and head back to your car when Bakugou stopped you.

“Thanks for carrying him. It was impressive. Unexpected,” he said, not making eye contact, “And the match earlier…You did good. I haven’t been beat that bad in a while.” It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was so subtle you couldn’t tell. You smiled softly at the compliments. “Thanks, Bakugou. I had fun. I’ll be going now.” You turned to walk to your car, but he stopped you again. “Oi, short stack!” You froze at the name, and turned around with a sickly sweet smile on your face, “Yes, Bakugou?” “What’s your number?” It was your turn to be shocked. But you got over it and recited your number to him as he punched it into his phone.

When you got home it was just after midnight, so you got ready for bed and lay down to sleep. The next few days passed relatively quickly, occasionally running into Kirishima or Bakugou. There wasn’t any villain activity in the area, and your gym time was productive. You got a couple of people to spar with you when you needed it, and spent any extra time weight training.

The next day you were off, just like every day you had off, you went straight to the agency and hit the gym. You spent a solid hour at the punching bag and went to go spar again. This time there were five others in the room, which was extremely rare. Normally the room was empty. Two pairs were already going at it, so you asked the fifth if she wanted to spar.

You’d already worked up a sweat at the punching bag, but you needed the spar, so instead of finishing quickly you made sure to take a couple punches and throw a few before ending the match. You kept the same partner for a few matches, winning each one, and soon the others were watching as you won two more rounds.

The partner you’d been sparring with tapped out to get water, and someone else quickly took her place. You immediately jumped into another match. And then another. And another. Soon they tapped out as well, and by then there were a few more people filing into the room to watch. It confused you, because you’d never seen more than ten people in the padded room, but you ignored it and began another match with yet another partner.

After another few rounds, your new partner tapped out, and you decided it was time to get some water. But it wasn’t until you stepped back out into the center of the room that you realised nobody else was starting a match. Nobody else was sparring with anybody, all their eyes locked on you. As you looked around the room, you noticed it was getting crowded with people, all your previous opponents had already left, and a new opponent stepped out to challenge you.

Now this was strange. Even with your opponent getting into his fighting stance, you looked around the room, confused as to why there were so many people. You dodged a jab, snapping your attention back to your opponent. Well that was a dirty move. At his next swing you ducked under his arm, lunged to his side and swept his legs out from underneath him, ending the match before he could even blink. Playing dirty gets you knocked the fuck out as far as sparring goes for you.

The crowd that had gathered cheered at the quick takedown, and yet another opponent stepped out. You lost track of time, sparring dozens of different opponents, never losing a single match. If you began to tire all you did was end the match quickly to regain energy. After you went to refill your water for what must have been the 20th time, you checked the clock. It was already noon. You’d been sparring for five hours.

When you went back into the room, another opponent waited in the middle. You apologized and said you had to leave, and the crowd dispersed within minutes. You showered and changed, and as you left the locker room you got a text from a number you didn’t recognize.

Oi short stack, what are you doing right now?

Correction, you knew EXACTLY who this was.

You:

Just got out of the gym. Why?

Bakugou:

Where?

You:

At the agency

Why?

You didn’t get a reply, but you didn’t need one, cause Bakugou was waiting for you outside the building, sitting in his car, with Kirishima in the passenger seat. “You haven’t had lunch yet right?” Bakugou asked. You shook your head no. Kirishima spoke this time, “Great! Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and told you to get in, and you chuckled as you got into the back seat.

During the ride Kirishima asked about your day, and you told him about the strange occurrence while you sparred, with a crowd forming to watch and people popping out of nowhere to challenge your winning streak. “Wow (y/l/n)! You still haven’t lost? I should spar with you and see if I can win!” You giggled at that and agreed to spar with him next time. And you kept reiterating how strange it was that there’d be so many people in the room at once, when normally there’s only a handful at a time.

They both questioned it but soon shrugged it off as Bakugou parked the car in front of the sushi restaurant. Lunch was a whirlwind of Kirishima asking you questions, you asking them questions, and Bakugou bickering at Kirishima when he ignored Bakugou entirely. It was fun seeing the two so close. Eventually the conversation rounded back to your sparring matches earlier.

“So how long were you there? If a crowd formed you had to have been at it for a while.” Kirishima asked, trying to figure out how long you’d fought people. You answered sheepishly, a bit embarrassed that you’d lost track of time so easily, “Well...when I checked the clock it’d been about five hours.” Both of them froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Your face burned and you took a sip of your water. Bakugou was the first to talk. “You’re a fucking beast.” Kirishima’s expression went from shock to concern. “Are you ok? Like, how are you not passed out right now?”

You assured him you were fine, and explained how much time you spent in the gym nearly every day, even after patrol. Your gym time only seemed to surprise them more, and after they told you about their gym schedule, you realised just how much time you spent in the gym, and the more you thought about it, the more you realised how lonely you were.

Kirishima seemed to catch on to your stress and smoothly changed the subject. After lunch, Bakugou drove you back to the agency, and Kirishima asked if you wanted to go to their place for drinks. “Sure, as long as I don’t have to carry you again,” you laughed. Kirishima turned and looked at you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair. “Wait...you carried me?”.

Bakugou barked out a laugh. “Yeah shitty hair, she threw you over her shoulders and hauled your wasted ass back to the car.” Kirishima’s face somehow burned brighter and apologized profusely, but you waved it off. “Nah, it’s fine! Besides, if Bakugou wasn’t being such an ass I wouldn’t have had to carry you. I just got sick of trying to keep you standing upright while he snickered at me being short.” Bakugo scoffed. “Well you’re definitely not tall.” “I don’t need to be to kick your sorry ass.”

At that Bakugou went silent and Kirishima exploded in a fit of laughter. “Put a sock in it shitty hair! And you!” Bakugou glared at you in the rearview mirror, “I’m gonna beat your stubby ass next time!” You looked at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Ground Zero?” He growled at the mention of his hero name. “Yeah short stack, it’s a fucking challenge.”

Soon the car parked in the parking garage, and you all went up to their shared apartment. It was spacious, and very modern. Bakugou pointed out the bathroom and went to the kitchen to grab three bottles of beer. The three of you settled into the living room and the conversation went just like lunch did. Most of the questions were directed at you, and you answered honestly.

The questions were generic and friendly, what you like to do in your spare time (besides going to the gym), your favorite foods, colors, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves. After the first round of questioning you’d only got through one bottle of beer. “Hey, what other kinds of alcohol you got?” you questioned Bakugou. He got up and listed his menu from the kitchen. You asked him for a glass of the cream liquor, and he returned with a glass filled with the liquid.

After hours of aimless conversation and a few more glasses, you found yourself slowing as the alcohol permeated your system. That was your signal to ask for a snack and water, and you stopped your intake of alcohol. Bakugou caught on to your self cut-off. “You don’t need to limit yourself. We’ve got a spare room if you need to stay the night, and if you need to call in tomorrow the agency has plenty of people to take over your patrol.” His statement shocked you, and you looked at him like he was crazy.

He spoke again, “If you’re cautious about sharing a place with two guys, Kiri’s nearly wasted already, he can’t do shit, and if I were stupid enough to do anything I’m sure you’d kick my ass before I got within a foot of you. As for tomorrow, both of us are off, and like I said, the agency is not short-staffed. And i’ve got meds if you’re worried about a hangover, and I don’t mind lending you clothes if you need them.”

You were stunned. Completely and utterly bewildered. But he made good points, so you decided to take up his offer to spend the night. “You know what, I’ll stay. But I'm gonna slow down with the alcohol, because hangovers are a bitch to deal with even with painkillers.” And with that, the three of you continued talking. Soon Kirishima passed out and Bakugou hauled him into his room. Surprisingly enough, when he came back out he actually engaged the conversation.

He asked about your fighting style, how you developed it, how long you trained. Most of his questioning was about your physical strength and tenacity, nothing personal. But then he asked why you spent so much of your time in the gym instead of with friends. And you answered honestly and bluntly, probably mostly because of the alcohol. “To be honest, I’m not much of a social butterfly. I don’t really have friends, because I don’t ‘make friends’ with people. In fact, you could call me antisocial. I don’t really like talking to people. I don’t speak unless spoken to or unless speaking is necessary.”

And he only dove deeper. “Why not? The world too scary from down there?” he teased. You laughed darkly at the comment, choosing to drain your glass of alcohol in favor of answering the implied question. He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You avoided the question.”

“Well it wasn’t really a question, just a jab at my height again”

“Yeah, and you didn’t jab back.”

You huff, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Just drop it Bakugou.”

“I won’t drop it. Not until you give me some kind of answer.”

“Are you always this insensitive or is it just the alcohol?”

“Spill it (y/l/n).”

“Ugh fine! But I’m not giving you any details.” You crack your knuckles, take a deep breath, and a long drink of water before you talk again. “I used to like making friends. But all the friends I made turned out to be liars and fakes. I was used. A lot. After a while I finally had enough, so I stopped approaching people. I decided if people want to be in my life they can approach me. I got good at reading people, and I shut them out fast if they weren’t good for me.” You sighed, praying that was enough to sate Bakugou’s drunken curiosity. It wasn’t.

“And if people approached you with the intention of using you? If you read them wrong?” he pried. Screw it. You already spilled this much right? Might as well get it out. “I got really good at pretty bad things. I don’t usually read wrong, because I’m suspicious of everyone that walks into my life.” Internally, you prayed that was enough for him. “What kinds of bad things?” Well that’s unfortunate.

“Things like eavesdropping. Spying. Hiding. Manipulation. Lying. Deceit. Long story short, I have trust issues. It’s easier to keep people at arm’s distance than make friends that could hurt you.” At that, Bakugou goes quiet, his eyes studying your face. And you stare back at him, waiting for the judgement that comes with opening up to people. Waiting for the ‘maybe you should openup more’ and ‘just give people a chance’. But his answer is unexpected. His face softens ever so slightly as his eyes lock onto yours, his voice low, soft and somewhat comforting. “Sounds rough.” You look away, trying to keep your breathing steady, not giving tears the chance to fall, “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Bakugou.”

Moving quickly, you disappear into the spare room and curl up into the bed sheets. Why the hell are you crying? You’d talked about this before. So why now, of all times, are you suddenly sobbing into your hoodie, clinging to it like your lifeline? You try your best to keep quiet, hoping the only other person awake doesn’t hear you. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you hear the door handle turn, and you freeze, closing your eyes and steadying your breath, going completely silent in mock-sleep. It was a technique you’d perfected long ago, turning off your emotionsin order to avoid confrontation.

You hear heavy footsteps, knowing who it is that just stepped in. He was the only other one still awake. You feel the bed behind you dip, and strong arms curl around you and turn your body, burying your face into Bakugou’s solid chest. His deep voice rumbles softly in your ear. “I know you’re not sleeping shorty. I listened through the door and heard you crying. Just let it out.” And before you can stop them, the tears you’d willed to disappear begin to pour down your face. So you sob into his chest, his arms tightening around you as your entire body shakes.

Soon you’re drifting into sleep, your body giving in to exhaustion. You’re in a deep sleep, and Bakugou stays there, holding you, until the last hiccups subside. He leans away to look down at you, and brushes strands of hair away from your face. “How long has it been since you’ve cried, princess? How long since you bottled up those emotions inside you?” He questions your sleeping figure. He presses a soft kiss into your forehead, gets up and tucks you under the blanket before silently leaving the room and going to bed.

When you wake up, your eyelids are heavy and swollen, making it hard to open them. You tenderly massage them open, remembering the reason they’re so puffy and sore. Despite the discomfort of your eyes, you feel refreshed and light, a weight lifted off your chest that you didn’t know was there in the first place. No, it was more like it’s been there for so long you’d gotten used to the pressure. Slowly, you sit up and blink away sleep.

You check the clock and it’s 8 am, a couple hours later than you normally get up. At the foot of your bed is a set of folded clothes. You quickly change out of the clothes you slept in, and into the t-shirt and sweatpants that you assumed were Bakugou’s. As expected, they’re giant on you, but they’re comfortable, and they smell like Bakug-- NO. Stop. You shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it came and go out to see if either of the guys are up.

You quickly get your answer when you see Kirishima lounging -- freaking SHIRTLESS -- on the couch. Talk about eye candy, damn. Like sure, his hero costume doesn’t exactly hide anything, but it’s different when he’s laying across a couch in nothing but gray sweatpants. Again, you clear the thoughts before they screw you over, and greet him. “Hey (y/l/n) how’d you sleep?” “Pretty good, thanks. I’m surprised you’re up so early Kiri.” He laughs at the observation, “Yeah. Bakugou got me up a little while ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” Yeah, that makes sense. You nod and make your way into the kitchen, and as expected, Bakugo is there.

“Good morning Bakugou,” you greet him. “Morning shorty. How’d you sleep?” You answer with the same reply you gave Kirishima a few seconds ago. You lowered your voice a little and leaned slightly toward him, “Thank you, by the way. For last night. I really needed that.” He just nods, focusing his attention to the fridge to find breakfast. Satisfied with that, you turn and head back to the couch and chill with Kirishima until Bakugou calls you to the table to eat.

You ask them what they do on their days off, and today the plan was just to stay in and lounge around the house, not doing much of anything and just relaxing. So, that’s what you did. As the hours passed, you found yourself liking the company of the two men, despite their imposing size. You didn’t feel small with them. But the question lingering at the back of your mind was why? Why were you so comfortable around them?

Thoughts buzzed around in your head like a hurricane, mixing with the doubt that they were in any way comfortable with you, and the fear that they were only using you for what men always seem to want. Soon you were telling yourself all the bad scenarios that would end in them leaving you all alone again. You didn’t even know them all that well, but you had become attached and were already bracing yourself for the inevitable loss of the two. The memory of crying to Bakugou last night swirled into your mind and wouldn’t disappear.

You were spiraling into a panic like you always did when people got close. But it was hidden, suppressed, contained. Whenever you panicked it never showed, the only telltale sign being your sudden need to scratch the soft flesh on the inside of your elbow. You hadn’t scratched in so long that any previous wounds had completely healed over, the only evidence left were small patches of discoloration, only evident if you stare long enough. That was about to change as your nails dug furiously while you stared off into space.

Kirishima was the first to snap you out of your spiral, grabbing your wrists and shaking you out, calling your name frantically. Your senses began to drift back, and the next thing you noticed was the sting on your forearms and the light stain of blood on your nails and fingertips. Your eyes drifted from your wrist up to your inner elbow, and you winced at the sight of blood seeping out of the shredded welts. It looked like it should have hurt more than it did.

“Bakugou! Get the first aid kit from the bathroom! (y/l/n)’s bleeding!” Kirishima called out to him. You heard quick heavy stomps and a curse from the blonde before he came over to examine your arms. He looked at you, and you looked back at him, still dazed from your inner turmoil. He knew from that look you were out of it. Instead he questioned the redhead to ask what had happened while he was in the kitchen figuring out what to make for lunch.

“I don’t know! I was watching tv and when I turned to ask her something she was staring off into space and scratching at her arms! She was bleeding before I even turned and I grabbed her before it could get worse.” Bakugou clenched his jaw and went to get a wet washcloth to clean up the blood. You were watching this all unfold before you, still not quite attached to reality. When he returned, he put the cloth on his lap and grabbed your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with calloused thumbs. He called your voice, attempting to ground you, and didn’t stop until you finally took a few quick breaths and blinked, answering him with a small ‘sorry’.

He grabbed your wrists, which Kirishima had already released, and spoke to you in a hushed tone, but still strong and intense. “(y/l/n) I need you to listen to me. Are you allergic to anything? Anything at all?” It took a few moments for you to regain your mental balance, but you shook your head. “No. Nothing.” He let out a soft breath and with that he began to clean and dress your arms, wiping away blood and cleaning your fingers and nails in silent concentration.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, the different sensations from the sting of the alcohol wipes to the cool ointment and the soft gauze had grounded you completely. As Bakugou went to put the first aid kit away, Kirishima reached out and gripped your shoulders, looking over your face and into your eyes with tender concern. “You okay little pebble?” He moved his large hands so they rested at the sides of your neck, his thumbs gently brushing at your jaw.

You blush lightly at the endearing nickname and the new sensation of his hands. Leaning slightly into one of his palms, you nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really wanna talk about it, but I’ll be just fine. I just got distracted.” He looked at you with a face that said he didn’t believe your excuse, but he’d drop the subject because you asked him to. Letting his hand release you, he gives you a toothy, mischievous grin. He leans in closer to you and nearly whispers, like he was about to reveal the world’s biggest scandal.

“That was the most gentle I’ve ever seen Bakugou. Thanks for bringing that side out of him,” he says, flashing another smile. You giggle a little at the thought of the explosive male being gentle, not quite believing it if you hadn’t been subject to it. Then you remembered why he’d been there, tending to the wounds you’d subconsciously inflicted on yourself. Your eyebrows knitted together lightly, remembering the spiral and being shaken out of it by a panicked Kirishima. When Bakugou came back, you grabbed one of their hands in each of yours.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you say softly. After a few moments of silence, you decided you owed them an explanation of some kind. “And thank you for catching me. The scratching is a nervous habit when I’m stressed. I thought I got rid of it, but obviously I haven’t. It’s been a long time since it happened last, and it was triggered by my own drifting thoughts. It’s purely subconscious and I don’t realize what I’m doing until the pain becomes too unbearable and snaps me back to reality.”

By the end of your explanation, the two were looking at you with concern and understanding. Kirishima gently smiled, and Bakugou’s features relaxed, when you squeezed their hands appreciatively. The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by a low growl. You laughed at the comedic timing of your stomach and glanced at the clock. It was just after 12:30, and Bakugou got up to go make lunch. After eating you asked to wash your clothes, and asked to use the shower. Kirishima got you a spare towel and plastic wrap to cover your newly dressed forearms. Five minutes under the hot water and you were already feeling suffocated. The steam clouded your lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You knew you had a problem with hot water. You always have. Jacuzzis were never relaxing for you, and you loved the cool water of the ocean the deeper you dove toward inky blackness. You turned the handle in the shower, letting the water turn cold. Your body shivered slightly from the sudden temperature change, but quickly relaxed as the cold water washed away all the stress from a few hours ago.

When you had finished up you went to go relax on the couch again, settling into the space between the two. Now with your mind clear, you began to wonder something that you probably should have wondered a while ago. How tall were they, really? They stood over a foot taller than you, so they had to be at least 6 feet tall. You looked from one to the other, your head swiveling back and forth, before you decided to just ask them.

Bakugou barked out a deep laugh, “Why you wanna know shorty? Finally realizing how scary we look from down there?” You rolled your eyes at him, but he answered anyway. “I’m 6 foot 4 (193 cm).” Kirishima looked down at you and beamed, “I’m 6 foot 6 (198 cm).” Bakugou scoffed, and you giggled at the blonde getting upset over height. Suddenly you bounced up from the couch and turned to the two, barely containing the thought that suddenly popped into your mind. Out of the two, the redhead seemed like the more likely to carry out your request, so you turned to Kirishima with wide excited eyes and a lopsided grin like a kid in a candy store.

“Can you carry me?!” you blurted out a little too loud. Kirishima blushed hard, and then you realized how ridiculous the request sounded and rushed to explain. “Sorry! That sounded weird right? I just wanna know what life looks like from that high up! I’m only 5 feet tall so…” you rambled a little before Kirishima laughed and stood up. “Sure little pebble.” He turned you around and squatted down, put his left arm around your waist and right arm against your thighs just above your knees and told you to lean back and sit on his arm.

Once you were seated snugly, your back pressed against his chest, he stood up and you gasped a little from the new angle. The floor looked so far away, and you knew that if Kirishima decided to hold you by your armpits your feet would dangle a foot from the floor. Bakugou looked up at you from the couch and scoffed. “Alright shitty hair, put her down before you drop her and she breaks her legs from the fall.” Your hilariously rebellious brain took that as a challenge. You smirked at Bakugou, his eyes daring you to do exactly what you were thinking. But before you could move he looked at the redhead behind you, and the arm around your waist tightened as he reached to grab his right bicep. He slightly activated his quirk, locking you in place.

“Aw, c’mon! You’re no fun! I’ve jumped from buildings before and landed perfectly fine!” You whined as you squirmed in Kirishima’s arms. Both of them laughed at your struggle, and once again, your brain instantly settled on ‘challenge accepted’. You quickly surveyed your surroundings, going about the best way to escape Red Riot without damaging any of the heroes’ property.

Before either of them could react, you materialized quirk-cancelling handcuffs and clasped one side around Kirishima's left wrist. The instant it went into effect, you brought your foot up and back down into the redhead’s stomach just hard enough for his grip on you to loosen up. When his right arm dropped to grab his abdomen, you slipped down along his body, grabbed the free cuff on your way down and snapped it around the leg of the coffee table, Kirishima landing flat on his ass with an ‘oof’.

Once again, Bakugou just stared in shock. You crossed your arms and smirked at him, “What was that about dropping me, Bakugou?” He was silent. Kirishima chuckled from his spot on the ground. “Damn, you’re a sneaky one little pebble.” You turned back around and took a deep bow. You materialized the cuff’s key and released him, storing them back in your quirk’s storage space. Finally recovering from his shock, Bakugou looked at the time and said, “Alright, short stack. Let’s go spar.” You turned to him and spoke what your brain had thought only moments before. “Challenge accepted.”

#kiribaku x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima bnha #bakugou bnha

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

“Fuck You!””I Just Might.”

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 7.1k holy hecc

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : nasty nasties hehe.. choking, angry sex, dom bakugou (what’s new lmao), lots of sexy vengeful teasing, & almost being caught (? idk what to call that haha)

bio : You and Ground Zero are far from getting along in almost every aspect… except for getting off perhaps.

author’s note : wow another smut whodathunkit !!! This isn’t super romantic (Happy VDay my sweets!!) but goddamn if u thirstin today drink tf up bc the SALOON IS OPEN AND HERE’S THE SPECIAL ON DA HOUSE

side note: (Y/H/N) = your hero name, also the sidekick is 100% out my ass not real bc I didn’t feel like doing legit research heheh. also, all characters are aged up to long past UA-grad in this (so everyone is 18+!!)

tagging: @lordexplosionsextra per request -- hope you enjoy bb :) happy vday!

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄰rms crossed, chest puffing in defiance, your gaze shoots daggers into his stupid smirk. “I’m not your fucking sidekick, Boom-Boy, so you can crawl back into the putrid swamp you came from and take your damn paperwork with you!”

“H-hey now,” Bakugou’s sidekick laughs nervously, hands waving in front of him as he shakes off the jab you just took at him inadvertently.

Bakugou laces his gloved fingers over his lap and kicks back in his chair, straightening his legs so his boots rest on the table across from you. “Listen, Princess, you know the rules. Whoever gets the final blow doesn’t have to do the nitty-gritty shit,” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly.

“You only got the finisher in ‘cuz I was busy doing everything else! You pop in at the last second and get all the credit and no busywork? Fuck off,” you fume, hooking your foot around the leg of his chair and ripping it toward you. Bakugou’s eyes widen as he falls backwards, tumbling onto the hard floor. He grimaces at you from the floor, vermillion eyes ablaze.

“It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to strategize! Don’t start shit you can’t fucking finish yourself!” He barks, voice spiking with fury. Ouch, that one stung your pride a little.

“You’re such an asshole,” you snarl, shoving the stack of papers off the table. The pages swirl in the air and scatter onto the tiled floor, some landing on the instigator’s lap. Bakugou’s palms crackle as his breath is stolen at your audacity. Your sidekick lets out a startled noise, jumping at the sudden popping. Bakugou’s sidekick has his hand on his temple, attempting to rub out the headache forming at this mess.

Why did you two have to hate each other so much?

The two sidekicks stand stiffly against the wall as you shove by them, Bakugou glaring at your ass as your hips swing around the doorway, out of his sight.

It’s late, the purple sky littered with the lights of the lively city. The villain you— or Bakugou, you suppose— had taken down earlier had been the last job of the day and you’re tired of the stupid bullshit he always serves you when the two of you work together.

Usually your agency kept the two of you on opposite boundaries of the patrol area, but you had begrudgingly needed help with this last offender of the day. Your quirk didn’t do incredibly well against villains with close-combat styles, but you could still manage. Unfortunately, the guy that had been causing mayhem earlier was beyond powerful up close, and he had landed a hit that knocked the wind out of you and made you slower than usual. It wasn’t a major injury or anything, but you’d probably have a nasty bruise on your torso after you took off this goddamn gimp-suit of a costume. Luckily, you had visited the in-house, agency healer in the infirmary upon arrival from the job, and they had sucked the nasty welt off your skin and redirected it somewhere else as their quirk allowed. The pain subsided mostly, just a bit sore where the bruise would’ve been.

You close the door to your office gently, a heavy sigh releasing as you make your way toward the desk. It was almost quitting time, but you still had to finish up the paperwork from the other case you had dealt with this morning. Clicking on the desk lamp, you breathe in to calm your frayed nerves, eyes closing briefly as you try to find the energy to finish your work.

The door bursts open, slamming almost immediately and tearing you out of your attempt at meditation. Bakugou stands in there, steam practically billowing from his nose and scarlet eyes flashing with agitation.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarls, prowling toward you with an accusatory, gloved finger raised.

“Excuse me?” You quip, irritation revitalized almost instantly. “Who do you think you are, storming into my office after the shit you pulled today?”

He stops in front of you, glowering down at you. You turn your face slightly, your eye level meeting his chest and not wanting to look at that. He was kind of muscular up close like this, you’d never noticed because you’d always created the most distance as possible between you two.

“Oh, you mean me saving your ass? Yeah, my bad, woman,” he growls, letting his gaze linger on the way your eyelashes kiss your cheek bones as you scoff, eyes closed in annoyance.

You glare at him, infuriated. “I didn’t need your fucking help! Did I ask you to come?”

He takes his time to reply, stare holding your attention briefly before he licks his lips. “No, but your sidekick did.”

The sentence is like a cold slap to the face, and you push him backwards with newfound anger. “Don’t fucking lie to me Bakugou,” you seethe, hands clenched into fists. “If you’re gonna lie at least come up with something believable!”

“Tch. She did call me, brat, and she begged me to come to your rescue like you were a goddamn damsel in distress,” he grunts, breaking eye contact with you as he hunches slightly, strong hands shoved into his pockets. Bristling at the refreshed anger rippling off of you, he already knows what you’re going to say. “She said that shitty villain got his hands on you, yeah right you had it under control.”

You don’t know what to say. You can’t really refute that the assailant had managed to hurt you, but you still wish Bakugou hadn’t heard that information. The asshole already thinks he’s the hottest shit in the agency, you really don’t want to give him any evidence of your weaknesses. So you sit on the edge of your desk, sighing once again. “I can handle one hit, dipshit,” you mutter. “It’s already healed anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can take care of yourself,” he grumbles, gaze flickering to your grim expression before he looks intently at the picture on your wall.

The silence that ensues is uncomfortable. You had never really talked to Bakugou before-- usually every time the two of you were together you were having a shouting match, throwing insults back and forth relentlessly. You aren’t really sure how to reply, and you absolutely did not want to acknowledge that he had come to your rescue when you actually needed him.

Bakugou is as silent as you are. He wonders where you’d been hit momentarily, before pushing off the thought because god forbid he show emotions. He’d already had his fill of feelings for the day. He sure as hell would never tell a soul, but the second he had seen your sidekick’s name flash across his phone screen this evening, his stomach dropped like he’d been the one to receive the villain's punch, not you. Shoving away the intrusive thought, his trademark scowl surfaces to his face.

“You know, I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’.”

His irritating voice slices through the tension in the room, and you bristle at his impudence. “Gee, Ground Zero,” he ruffles at his hero name, a frown bending his thin lips,” thanks so much for stealing my job and taking the credit for it too, and really— thank you so much for the paperwork as well. I’m just so grateful.”

“Tch. Don’t be so bitchy, you know I saved your ass today so just fess up and thank me already. You’ll feel better once you spit it out,” he provokes, thick arms crossing over his chest.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, scowling at his smug face. The snarl that breaks his lips is ignored as your eyes turn to slits directed toward him.

He laughs at your malicious look, mouth transforming into a sleazy grin. He can’t stop himself even though he’s a tad hesitant, but his bold and loud nature wins out and he says cooly, “I just might.”

You gape at him, the smile on his mouth escalating your agitation. “W-What?” You choke out meekly, palms pushing you off the desk to stand upright.

He has the gall to grin, taking a step toward you. His heavy boots clunk against the floor, and you move backwards only to bump into the desk again. You cast a futile glare at the desk, and when you look back at him, he’s looming over you. “I think it’s time we acknowledge this thing we have, (Y/H/N).”

Your lips part in surprise, the blush tainting your cheeks slightly. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,” you stammer. Your arms crossing over your chest, he can’t help but notice how your breasts squish upwards, cleavage visible through your skin-tight costume.

“I think you do,” he chuckles with a low voice, gaze regarding the pink pigment gracing your cheeks. He savors it, lips curling into a smirk. His hands meeting the edge of your desk as he leans in, his body brushes against your arms. You rear back, shock evident on your face with lips parted as he tips his head to the side. He cages you in, an unfamiliar look simmering in his crimson irises. “You can feel the tension between us too. I know it, Princess.”

You’re once again at a loss for words. What the hell is happening right now? You think, mind reeling desperately to change the subject. “I hate it when you call me that,” you spit out, looking up to catch his intense stare. It wasn’t dishonest, you hated his pet name for you. Just because you weren’t as careless as him, he’d tacked the snide nickname to you awhile back because he knew it pissed you off. “It’s a stupid name that only your idiot brain could come up with.”

Take the bait, please take the bait.

“The way you treat me like I’m beneath you, what else can I call you?” His breath fans against your cheek and you hate to admit it’s fresh and minty, not at all as nasty and troll-like as you’d convinced yourself it would be. “But I guess that’s ‘cuz you really wouldn’t mind having me under your lap, right?”

You gasp at his crude suggestion, knees smacking together as your thighs clench automatically. “Fuck off, Bakugou,” your voice trembles slightly, your palms hesitantly landing on his chest. Your attempt to push him is less than half-hearted, and he smiles at your crumbling resolve.

His fingers skim along the small of your back, perching his hand on your waist. You can feel its warmth through your costume and his glove, and your body bends into his hold on its own accord, your ass pushing back while your chest grazes his. He exhales harshly, his other hand docking on the top of your stiffened thigh, thumb falling into the curve between your legs. You wish it was higher up, and the recognition of your craving makes your blush a few shades darker.

“What was that?” He snickers, lips brushing your earlobe as his nose pushes away your cascading hair. He didn’t expect you to smell so good after a long day of fighting crime.

Your fingers grab onto his costume, clawing at the material and you’re not sure if it’s in anger or desire. But Bakugou is sure, his fingers rubbing your waist as he glances at your restless hold on his costume. “Oh, bite me,” you spit out, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

His lips touch your jaw, and you can feel the sneer that rests so prominently there. “Manners, Princess… say please,” he chides, tongue poking out to trace the soft skin there.

A quiet moan escapes you and Bakugou groans loudly in response. He draws his face back to lock eyes with you, stare taught with the tension the two of you have built over all this time.

“You gonna tell me you’ve never thought about us fucking?” He inquires, eyes darting to your lips and returning to your gaze. “All those times we riled each other up, every time we pushed each other’s buttons over and over— you gonna say you never thought about getting me to shut the hell up by any means necessary?”

Your eyes roll in your head, from a combination of lust and disbelief. You cannot believe you're letting him hold you like butter in his hot hands, melting you and licking you up. You glare at him, his lips just close enough to distract you. You weren’t going to let him mould you like putty anymore. “I bet you wanna think that I have, Bakugou,” you whisper, and he looks at you with mild surprise adorning his handsome face. Your blush infects him immediately, a flush spreading over his own cheeks and he’s suddenly very glad his costume has a mask. “You think I haven’t noticed you checking me out every second of the day, Boom-Boy?”

He seems at a loss for words as your wrists wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down and level to yours. His brow bursts into a sweat as one of your hand curls around his costume’s throat piece, trailing south and following the delicious line between his pecs down his abs. Your fingernails scraping through his costume, his skin prickles as he gasps. Your lips meet his stubbled jaw, mirroring the action he had performed to you a moment ago. His fingers tighten their hold on you, his body jerking almost invisibly at the contact. “You ogle at me much more, little Miss Priss,” he says cockily even though his voice sounds forced.

It was your turn to curl your lips into a sultry smile, half-lidded eyes regarding his shocked, eager stare. “I thought I told you not to tell your phony lies, Bakugou,” your murmur against his jawline, hand curving around his pelvis and to drag down his outer thigh. “It’s a sin to lie, you know.” Your fingers skim the very ridge of the bulge in his pants, teasingly tracing the outline and watching him close his eyes, his grin seeming strained.

“You know a lot about sins, then?” he pants, sliding his hand down from your waist slowly, fingertips stretching eagerly to push into your plush ass.

You nip at his skin playfully, and he shudders in response. Your raise your head to meet his hungry gaze, your coy smile still beaming. “I might… You want me to demonstrate my knowledge?” Your tongue parts your lips, eyes falling to his slightly agape mouth. Your breath tangles, and his eyelids flutter shut as your lips graze.

The hand on your thigh grips your flesh tighter and you whimper, your mouth tingling at the harder contact of the kiss. His other hand slides south and cups your tailbone, calloused fingers bringing your ass toward him. The sudden movement surprises you, and you grab onto his neck, making his chin dip down as your hips slide into his crotch. You clash into him, your lips colliding as sparks fly through the air.

You both moan into each other’s mouths, the kiss desperate and hot. Your tongue pokes out to probe his bottom lip and he gladly receives your wet muscle with his own. Your legs trapped between his shuffle as you wiggle your hips, savoring his fiery hands gliding over your figure.

Bakugou’s hands are firm but warm, caressing your waist and hips and heating them up. He growls as your hips buck against his, rubbing the tent in his baggy pants. One of his hands slides along the smooth fabric of your hero suit, cupping the swell of your breast in his large palm as his thumb runs over your nipple. You throw your head back, and his lips gladly blaze the trail of your throat with a scorching urgency. Your fingers move to his arm pieces, clamoring at the top of the machinery near his elbows. He gladly slides the gadgets off, placing them in one of the chairs facing your desk while he rips off his black gloves. He hastily throws the neck piece onto the seat as well before he turns and captures your lips once more.

When his fingers return to your hips, you can feel the true heat of his burning palms through your bodysuit, making you arch into him wantonly. His tongue battles yours fiercely, both of you fighting for dominance as his hands glide up to your waist and fumble with your belt. You can feel his rigid muscles through his thin tank top, your hands wandering greedily underneath the right material to touch his smooth skin.

Bakugou smirks as your belt falls onto the desk, hands falling and grabbing onto your ass cheeks eagerly, pulling you closer to his body. You take the chance to shove your tongue into his mouth and he groans at the impact, jaw slackening as he allows your tongue to take control. He grinds into you slowly, making your thighs tremble with apprehension. His mouth detaches from yours, and the string of saliva connecting your tongues is sliced as his shirt flies through the air. You drink in the sight of his naked chest, muscles swelling and flexing, tapering down into a delicious V that disappears underneath his belt.

You grab the belt, yanking his body close to yours again and sighing as your lips meet once more. “You’re really man-handling me Princess,” he comments amusedly into your lips as your fingers grapple with his belt, toying with the latch.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and harnessing a moan from him,” and touch me already, pussy.”

His vermillion gaze ignites, mouth crashing onto yours as his fingers slide underneath the swell of your ass. He lifts you like you’re but a paperweight, and you moan as your legs wrap around his hips. His tongue crushing yours, his kisses so intense that your head leans back at the sizzling force. You jump slightly as your ass meets the cushion of your desk chair, eyes opening to see he’d rounded the desk and knelt in front of you. His knees on the ground, he looks up at you haughtily, hands coasting slowly down your legs toward your center. “Is this where you want me?” he feigns innocence and you glare down at him. His thumb hooks the crotch of your leotard, and he shoves the material to the side roughly, making you gasp.

The cool office air greets your cunt, making it throb even more in arousal. “Bakugou,” you whine as he watches your face, shifting your hips in a feeble attempt to catch his attention. He slinks down, lips brushing over your panties softly as he watches you squirm. He grins against the black lace, thumb curling around the skinny part of the thong over your asshole, making you shiver.

“You’re right Princess,” he grumbles, tongue gliding over the wet spot that had leaked through the material, inhaling your scent pervertedly as he closes his eyes in triumph. Your bottom lip is prisoner to your teeth again as you watch his teasing movements, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Sometimes when you’ve got me all riled up, I jerk off thinking about how good your bratty little ass would look bouncing on my dick.” You can’t help but whimper at his confession, rolling your hips against his mouth in desperation.

He smirks up at you, crimson irises glittering with savory mischief. His hands snake around your thighs, clutching onto the junction they meet your hips with vigor. He pushes your body down into the seat so you can’t wriggle any longer, and he feels your cunt clench against his chin when he nips at your panties, teeth dragging along your clit. You wail his name again lowly, harsh breaths ripping through your lungs.

He growls in response, thumb ripping the lace to the side and exhaling at the sight of your swollen cunt, grin broadening at the excessive glaze that he had caused. “Fuck,” he laments, tongue poking out to graze your clit experimentally. Satisfied with the way your hand flies to cover your mouth, he places a teasing kiss there. “You know,” he murmurs against your slick nerve,” More than once I’ve wondered how hot and sweet your cunt must be, hiding underneath this skimpy little leotard.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyebrows cinching as you glower down at him, meeting his pleased gaze. “Why don’t you find out for yourself then?” you hiss, baring your teeth at his infuriatingly proud smirk.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Princess?” Bakugou’s tongue glides along the side of your slit, making you stiffen and shut your eyes tightly. Of course he’s a fucking tease.

A knock sounds at your door to pull you out of your collapsing mind, and you sit up straight, eyes wide as Bakugou’s sidekick peeks into the room.

Bakugou stills, unsure as to who it is, staying hidden behind your desk and still holding your hips harshly.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen Ground Zero possibly? He’s stormed off as usual and I can’t find him anywhere,” the sidekick says, blinking at you with unsuspecting eyes.

“Oh, H-Hikaru,” you gulp, hesitantly placing your hands on your desk. Bakugou is quiet underneath you but you’re preparing yourself for the little shit to pull something stupid.

And he does.

Bakugou’s tongue slips between your folds suddenly, licking a large stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, sucking in your clit and rolling his tongue around it brazenly.

“Oh my god!” you yell, hand slapping over your mouth too late. Hikaru looks at you incredulously, regarding your pink cheeks and sweaty forehead. “I can’t believe him! W-what an asshole!” you pant as Bakugou sucks harder, your pussy clenching onto itself. “He probably left so you’d do the paper… mmm, paperwork for h-him.” You abs are flexed so hard, straining in order to restrain the mess of moans that Bakugou is summoning.

Hikaru finds your tone a bit peculiar, but he continues anyway. “Uh, probably… Are you okay Y/N? You look kind of… sick,” he comments, head tilting to the left. “Did you get that jab checked out yet? I can take you to the infirmary if you want. If it’s bad I can drop you off at your place, too.”

Bakugou doesn’t like that suggestion. He doesn’t need to lick his fingers, your drenched core welcomes the digits instantly. Your walls accommodate his middle and ring finger eagerly and he smirks as they sink into you, knuckle-deep.

“Yes!” you shriek, quickly shooting a glare down at the blonde, your hair covering your face from his sidekick. “I mean— yes, I had it checked out and I’m f-fine, thank you for the concern, Hikaru,” you explain, a forced smile on your lips as you silently beg him to leave.

Bakugou stretches his fingers inside you, scissoring them to coat them in your essence before he puts them together again. His wrist strained in the forced position, he flicks the digits back and forth, almost laughing in glee as he recognizes that soft velvety spot deep within you.

Hikaru blinks at you again before he nods half-heartedly. “Okay… Well if you need me, I’ll be in the conference room doing Bakugou’s job,” he laughs, tucking out of the door and closing it finally.

“He wishes he could do my job, fucker,” Bakugou grunts, mouth immediately returning to satiating your needy hole.

You sag into the chair, a quiet moan floating out of you as Bakugou continues to finger you, his lips slurping up your clit once more. Shooting a heated look at him, you bare your teeth at him, and choke out a hiss,” Fuck you!”

Bakugou only chuckles, savoring the way your cunt throbs around his digits. “I didn’t think you were so impatient, brat.” He doesn’t slow his actions though, knuckles ramming against your skin. He enjoys the way you gasp as he moves your thigh over his shoulder, his tidy fingernails pressing into your trembling leg. “You taste pretty good, Y/N. I guess it’s just your personality that’s bitter,” he remarks, smiling against your sex as his fingers slide out of you.

You toss him a pointed look as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Excuse you, Boom-Boy,” you chide,” only my friends get to call me that!”

“Tch, I get to eat your pussy but I can’t call you by your name? You really know how to make a guy work for it,” he scoffs, sounding mock-hurt, and now menacing over you.

You frown in response but it quickly melts into a smirk. “Don’t worry, Katsuki,” you observe how he closes his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as his hand turns into a fist,” I’ll return the favor.” You tentatively place your hands on his belt, undoing the clasp and resting the heel of your palm against his clothed, hard cock. You gently undo the fastenings around his thick thighs, placing the belt with his grenades onto your desk cautiously. You weren’t trying to be blown up just for some dick.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of both his black pants and underwear, annoyed with you taking your sweet ass time. His bare cock springs free, greeting your hungry gaze with an inviting sheen of sticky precum trailing down his hard length. You gawk at the sight, genuinely surprised to find he was so… well equipped.

“So this is why you’re so cocky, huh?” you state, eyes following the protruding vein running the entirety of his full, flushed member.

He barks out a laugh which dies in his throat as you press a chaste kiss to his weeping pink tip. Your tongue flat against your bottom lip, you slide his cock into your mouth and moan at the salty, provocative taste of him. His length almost as thick as your throat itself, you gag gently as you take him whole into your mouth before quickly pulling back. You place your hand around the base of his now-slick cock, your mouth sucking and bobbing on the top half of him as you jerk your fist at the same tempo.

Bakugou is much louder than you expected him to be, and the way his erotic, serrated breath is tearing from his lungs makes your pussy clench in desire. His chest heaves, the bulging muscles on his torso tense underneath his surprisingly smooth skin. Your other hand wanders up his abs, enjoying the way the ridges between them are so defined. He growls as your finger rubs over his nipple, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grasp but not doing anything to stop the action.

You purr on his cock, slippery hand leaving the base to cup his balls, eliciting a hiss from him as he sucks air in between his gnashing teeth. Confidence torrenting through your veins at his reaction, your jaw drops as wide as you can muster, your mouth gliding further down his length.

Bakugou’s empty hand collects the hair falling around your face, holding it for you as you weave back and forth. His jaw falls slack as the head of his dick rubs the back of your throat, summoning a soft gag that makes your mouth vibrate around him. Your wrist hurts a little from his tight grasp, but the way his fingernails dig into your skin makes your core shiver in delight. “Shit, Y/N.”

You don’t bother to correct him this time, thumb running over his balls just hard enough to make him shake a bit, savoring the way he is panting and quaking before you. The hand grasping your hair nimbly shimmies closer to your skull, his fingers twisting almost too tightly onto the roots of your hair. You allow him to coax your mouth closer, his arm guiding your face to take his length deeply. A low growl tears from the bottom of his lungs as you lock eyes with his impassioned stare. His hips nudge smally against your lips, his tongue poking out to run over his lip as he pulls back and glides back inside your sweltering throat.

You moan forcefully, savoring the the strangled noise that slithers from his now gaping mouth. Taking initiative once more, you begin to jerk your neck back and forth quickly, wincing as his grip tightens on your wrist. Bakugou tries his best to repress his moans but the way your bratty throat welcomes his hard cock makes him see tiny, fizzling explosions when he closes his eyes.

His hips rear back, and you almost fall off the chair as you lean in to close the distance. He catches you easily, hot hands landing on your shoulders as his gaze locks with yours, inexplicable desire sizzling between the two of you. His hands fly down to collect your ass cheeks, and he picks you up just to place the apple of your cheeks on the desk behind him. Teetering on the edge of the wooden furniture, your legs wrap around his waist, and his lips slam onto yours again. His fingers frantically running over your super suit, he snarls in frustration when he can’t find the zipper.

You laugh at him mockingly, catching his eye as you pinch the zipper on the side of your neck, the material shrinking away immediately with elasticity. He watches as your breasts pop out of the silky, neoprene-like fabric, bouncing with hardened, pink nipples standing perkily to greet him.

“No bra?” He reprimands but his time sounds more turned on than accusatory. “Princess, you’re so naughty.” His hands fly to your tits, groping the soft and supple flesh with fervor. You unzip the rest of your side, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and carefully angling your hips so you can slide the suit off into a crumpled pile on the ground. In just your tiny little thong now, Bakugou closes the gap, pressing flush against your clothed center and grinding his wet cock against your damp underwear.

Your head tilts back and you whine, gasping as his mouth slides along your throat, hot tongue caressing the tender skin. “Please, Bakugou,” you wail, his thumbs rubbing your sensitive nipples hastily.

“God, you must be tight if you’re this high-strung,” he purrs next to your ear, enjoying the way your cunt clenches noticeably underneath your panties. Speaking of those… his fingers snatch the delicate lace to the side, his other hand grabbing his dick and running his swollen tip over your slit. He dips the head into your hole but recedes instantly, brushing it over your glistening trove before repeating the action. The teasing has your head spinning, harsh pants falling from you both and mingling in the thin divide between you. He can’t take it any longer, his hips snapping into yours as his dick easily disappears halfway into your steamy, aching cunt. “I fucking knew it,” he grunts, jaw clenching as your velvety walls embrace his girth, your cry of pleasure music to his ears. “Your cunt is so snug around my cock.”

His hips push into your thighs further, only stopping once he’s balls-deep, sunk completely in your flittering sex. Hand leaving your thong to the side of your cunt, he grabs your hip and pulls your ass close. You groan at his cock nestling even deeper into your sopping hole, and your hips jerk against his as his hand curls around your lower back, securing itself so his fingers coil snugly around your waist. You choke on a sob as he thrusts into you again, his thick member prodding you in a very private place.

“You better fuck me already,” you growl at his pace that was testing your nerves, ready to be fucked into submission. Not that you were going to go down without a fight.

He chuckles cockily, a sly grin on his lips. “Your wish is my command.” His hips slam against yours and your teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling a scream of desire. He ruts into you with ease, your arousal making it almost effortless for his cock to spread the tense walls of your desperate pussy. His free hand claps against the swell of your ass, the noise slicing through the air and you scowl at him. It’s like he wants to be caught.

Ragged breaths tumble from the both of you, your saliva trickling down his chest as your teeth are still fastened into his broad shoulder. “F-Fuck, Bakugou,” you keen, each time his pelvis pressing against you tightly forcing your vision to shake.

“Katsuki,” he huffs, his left hand pushing your chin up to capture your half-lidded gaze. “Say it, Princess— fuck, tell me who’s making you feel so good,” he demands, eager to hear his name leave your lips in such an intimate way once more. His hips change tempo from his fast and hard pace to a slower, more sensual rolling motion, milking the desired reaction out of you.

The novel movement pressing deliciously against your clit, your unabashed whimpers fall onto his eager ears. Your fingers raise to pinch the top of his black eye mask, pushing the material up over his forehead so it tucks his ash blonde hair back. Looking into his eyes and admiring his uncovered, handsome features, you shoot him a sinful pout. “Ka— ah! Oh, Katsuki,” you gasp, your hands flying up to claw desperately at his muscular back.

Bakugou relishes in your lewd reply, eyes rolling back into his skull in delight. He lets out a gravely groan, increasing the tempo to a needy, impatient pace. The extra stimulation on your clit makes your legs shiver around him, your heels digging into the plush top of his ass. His hand slides back to grip around the back of your neck, leaning in to take the side of your ear between his teeth. His fingers on your throat press into your skin, his thumb pushed into your racing pulse. Hand squeezing just the right amount, it becomes pleasurably harder to breathe and you pant, tongue poking out as you wanton gaze meets his. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard Y/N,” he growls, almost snarling at you as your body bounces against his, watching your hair dance and shake around the erotic expression on your face.

“Eat shit,” your nose twitches in annoyance,” You’re gonna burst any minute now.” Your cheeks are dusted in a telling flush, your body feeling heat spread throughout. His hand tightens on your throat and you moan, loving the way your breath tears slightly.

“You’ve been clenched down on me this whole time,” he reasons, lips close enough so you can feel his ragged breath. “You can’t deny how your body reacts to me, even if you don’t want it to.”

You roll your eyes. Even buried between your legs at a time like this, he insists on pushing your buttons. “Oh, you want me to clench, Katsuki?” you inquire, tone confident in contrast to the wanton shake of your body.

He shivers as his name leaves your sinful lips, and the breath in his lungs is sucked out of him as you clamp your pussy as tight as you can around him. His hips stutter and you revel in the lustful way his face contorts, his eyes screwing shut temporarily.

When his vermillion eyes open again, his predatory gaze adding wood to the fire between your legs. “Bad girl,” he admonishes, an unruly grin lifting the corners of his mouth. His hips slam against yours, railing into you at an unimaginable speed and harshness. “That’s a cute try, Princess, but you’re gonna cum before me no matter what.”

You can’t even respond as he thrusts into you, your pants ripping through the air and mingling with the quick slapping noise echoing through the room. You hate to let him win but you can’t hold yourself off from your impending orgasm, the pressure in your core multiplying at an alarming rate as each thrust deliciously stimulates your deepest, most secret place.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, your spine arching into his touch while his hand keeps its hold on your throat. “I’m so close, please,” you beg, your toes curling forcefully as your eyes roll back.

Bakugou smiles at your submissive tone, purring out, “That’s better.” His hand leaving your throat to rub his finger on your clit, your body trembles in his hands. He leans into you and his lips conquer yours passionately, tongue darting in between your lips to caress with yours. His tongue pulls back as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, his wolfish stare daring you to follow his ensuing command. “Cum for me, Y/N.”

Your body tenses as you reach your climax, but Bakugou continues to assault your g-spot mercilessly. Your arms shake in euphoria, nails pressing in to form desperate scratches on his skin. It feels like he is snapping you in two, and you absolutely love it. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you wail out, relief washing over your limbs feeling like ice cold lemonade on a torrid summer day.

Pussy fluttering around his cock so deliciously, Bakugou moans at the new intensity. He swears as he keeps going, despite his own orgasm approaching. The image of you squirming in ecstasy underneath him makes him gasp immodestly. His hands clasp down on your hips roughly, making it even easier for him to pound into your soaked cunt as his teeth release your reddened lip. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he huffs, sweat glistening on his built chest as he thrusts into you particularly hard. “So much better than I could’ve ever imagined, holy shit, Princess.” He moans a little loudly, not holding anything back anymore. He is so fucking close.

“Katsuki, please,” you sob, your g-spot still being pummeled relentlessly, never getting a break from his assault and dragging your orgasm out longer than you thought possible. “I want your cum on me so bad!”

Bakugou throws his chin into the air, harsh breaths floating out as the flesh of your hips turns white under his oppressive grip. He grunts as he pulls out, his searing streaks of cum spurting out forcefully, shooting up to lace over your tits and down your stomach. His thighs tremble as he snarls, his first immediately jerking his cock as more of his cum gushes out of the tip. He gasps for breath, and he groans as your lips press to his captivatingly. He leans into your kiss, savoring the feeling of your sweet lips against his.

You shift in his hands, the once-rough palms now sliding over your skin carefully, fondling your body as his lips nibble at your own. You entertain it for a moment, nails trailing down his chest, thumbs rubbing into the ample muscles beneath his skin.

He pulls back, a lazy grin and satisfied eyes regarding you. “Well, that was hot,” he admits, eyebrow quirking upwards as he tries to even his choppy breath. You pull a handful of tissues out of the box on the corner of your desk, handing him a few which he gladly wipes over his drenched member. You sigh in content, head leaning back as you regulate your own breathing.

Bakugou makes you jump in surprise as he runs a new tissue along your torso, cleaning up his mess. You eye him playfully, secretly relishing in the way he is so considerate. He shuffles back a step like he can feel you appreciating his uncharacteristically caring actions, tugging up his underwear and tucking himself in with a smug grin on his lips.

“It was pretty good,” you say casually, sliding off the desk and pausing as your still-tingling core shifts, making you realize how tender you already are.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, handing you your costume from the floor. You snatch it out of his grasp condescendingly, glaring at him as you step into the leotard with quivering legs. “Pretty good?” he barks, eyeing your slow movements. “You’re still shaking, Princess.”

You shoot a glare at him, arms slipping into your costume and tucking your breasts away from his lingering eyes. “Fuck you.”

“You just did.” He replies smugly, and you ponder relieving the sudden urge you have to slap the look off his face.

“Whatever, Boom-Boy,” you quip, zipping up the side of your suit.

Bakugou chortles as he pulls on his shirt, fastening the loops around his thighs. “By the way,” he looks sideways at you with a smirk. “You came first, so I won.”

“You were, like, ten seconds behind me,” you scoff.

“After you, nonetheless,” he almost chirps, savoring in the irritation visibly building in you. He slips on his gloves, sliding his arms into his grenade-looking arm pieces. “Do I get a prize, Princess?”

You glance at his suggestive crimson eyes, pondering the idea of it. “You can choose the place next time,” you wink at him, clipping the belt on your waist with finality.

He seems pleased with the answer, his smirk widening as he steps closer to you. Your fingers pinch the bottom of his mask, dragging the material down to its correct location over his eyes. He shamelessly allows his gaze to rove over your body, recalling how tight and needy you’d been just minutes ago.

“Next time, I’m gonna make you beg,” he warns, opening the door and slipping through, seductive gaze locking with yours. “Can’t wait ‘til then, Y/H/N.”

And after that, working together became a whole lot easier.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

make sure to shoot me a comment/ask/reblog if you enjoyed ♥︎ I’d love to receive any feedback!!!

thank you so much for reading!! Happy Valentine’s Day sweethearts :)

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#whewwwww #somebody call the fire departmentttt lawd #lmao not to toot my own horn but this was hot #i finished this ln when i was lit af and was so pleased to find this morning when editing minimal errors and i managed to stay on track woo #ok ok ill get over myself now #bakugou fic #bnha fic #mha fic #ground zero fic #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo smut #my fics #my fics katsuki

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ofwolvesandbutterflies · 4 years

Text

pink silk, black leather

Jung Jaehyun x Reader

requested by anonymous

“You’re infuriating,” Jaehyun growled, ripping the black leather jacket off his shoulders to drape it much gently around your quivering body. “You call me in the middle of the night, in a sketchy bar on the outskirts of town and for what? I’m in the middle of a goddamn meeting and I get a call because you lost your left high heel?!” the fuming male slammed a hand down on the frame of his car mere centimeters from where your head rested. His dark eyes looked murderous and the icy glare he sent you shot a grimace down your spine. Despite the entirety of the unfortunate situation you had found yourself in with your body pressed against the cool metal of your best friend’s car and said man glowering at you, all you could think was damn, that man would make one hell of a good mafia boss.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He tore his frustrated gaze away from you to roll his neck. Though the chill of the evening had been enough to expel most of the drunkenness from your system, the intoxicated part of you greedily drank in the way the dark red dress shirt hugged his toned torso. The top three buttons of his top had been left open, only heightening the butterflies starting to form in the pit of your stomach. And you would have kept staring at your childhood friend for much, much longer had he not leaned in, rage flitting in his dark irises. “Couldn’t you have chosen a different day to go clubbing? My god, this is the worst evening...”

Well shit, you thought, a bitter taste filling your mouth and killing the butterflies as he went on, muttering on about his obvious distaste for the situation at hand. He didn’t need to yell so loudly.

“Jae-” you faltered when his gaze zeroed in on you. “I… You didn’t have to come- I mean, if you were that busy, I could have just called a cab...” the shamefully murmured words fell almost inaudibly from your lips. A lame excuse, really, but it was the only thing you could think of to say. A wretched combination of panic and hurt coursed through your bloodstream when Jaehyun gritted his teeth, glaring darkly at you. That, you thought to yourself. Had definitely been the wrong thing to say.

There had only been a couple of occasions you had seen your best friend get so heated, and up until now, none of those times had been directed at you. However, if his hair wasn’t so disheveled, if his eyes weren’t so crazed from sleep deprivation, if the bags under his eyes weren’t so dark… you just may have been angry, too.

“You didn’t have to come, Jaehyun,” he mocked you, pulling his usual baritone voice much higher than was necessary. The words - though just words - struck out at you and you winced as if you had just been slapped. Hot tears burned at your eyelids and he continued in his mimicry, oblivious to the hurt welling up in your stomach. You had known Jaehyun for long enough to know that he wasn’t angry at you, rather just at his wit’s end with work and misdirecting the stress. Still though, it didn’t make the accusations hurt any less.

“If you were that busy,” he went on imitating you, jaw clenched. “-you should have just left m- No!” Another grimace shook your body at the sheer volume of his voice. You bit your lip, fighting down the whimper. “I would come to get you even if you had called from China about scraping your knee! Dumb, right? But I guess that's what I get for caring so much about a clumsy kid like you, huh?” he barked, finally finished with his rant. A few pathetic sniffles sounded in the back of your throat and your best friend's eyes shot towards the tears streaked down your face. Horrified, Jaehyun shut his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Fuck," he sighed, all the anger and rage from before melted into tired exasperation as he rubbed a hand over his tired features. For a moment, his mouth opened and closed, trying to formulate some sort of apology for the unspeakable way he had just treated you.

“Jae...?” Shoving your fears aside, you stepped forward to cup his warm cheeks. His ivory eyes met yours, slowly, reluctantly and all you could see was tired regret. “Are you… are you done now?”

“...Yeah.” Dropping his forehead onto your shoulder, you let him pull you into his arms. "I just- I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean that. Any of that. It’s not your fault, none of this is because of you. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you and I’m- I… God, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that. It's just been a rough couple weeks at work, business deals falling through, people not doing their jobs correctly. It's hard, it's annoying, and half the time I'm like 'why are we even having meetings at 2 in the morning?'"

His words were muffled as they slid harshly down the skin of your shoulder, but all you could do was rub careful circles into his back. Jaehyun never talked much about his job to you and you never minded it. All you knew was that he was in business administration of some sort and most days you saw him, he had much too fancy of a suit on for the bruises and cuts littering his porcelain skin. You had learned not to ask him. The first time you inquired, he brushed you off quickly, telling you that when it came to spending time with you, it was strictly 'you time'; nothing would be said about his job because he wanted to keep work life and home life separate. You could respect that.

But you didn’t like this side of him. Jaehyun pulled away only enough to wipe at the dried tears on your cheeks. “I know you’re probably angry with me,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried for a smile. “-but please don’t hesitate to call me if you need something. I promise I won’t yell at you.”

“Well, I know I won’t call as often now... I don’t know how much I like getting yelled at by ‘big boss Jaehyun’.” You shot him a look and he chuckled sheepishly.

“I-I’m sorry, I really am. I won’t do it agai-”

“I’m kidding, you big lunk,” you brushed the fallen hair from out of his eyes with a soft smile. “Although I would still like not to be yelled at again.”

“That,” Jaehyun grinned. “I can do. Now, let’s get you home.”

Unraveling you from his grip, he opened the car door for you. You climbed in, body relaxing under the welcoming residual warmth of the inside of his Tesla.

“Oh right,” he paused, catching the passenger door just before it closed. “You look beautiful tonight.”

The door closed and a rush of red hurried to your cheeks. And as Jaehyun jogged around the back of the car, you spared a fond glance down at your pink silk minidress.

send me a title and an nct member and i’ll write a blurb for you

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ahlis-xiv · 3 years

Text

journal 50.4

G’raha sat alone, semi-hunched over a piece of parchment as he worked. Although he did not show it, the drafting he ambitiously began was nothing short of a place between fascinating and downright tediousness. The solution to tempering that nestled within his mind and finding a proper way to convey it into some sort of physicality that others could understand took time and a level of focus that brought him back to his Studium days.

He did not mind the effort, really, yet part of him couldn’t help but feel he could be applying himself to something else...namely figuring out why his dear friend decided to depart in such a hurry without so much as a word.

G’raha sighed, and scratched out part of the formulae he attempted to use as a proper proof. It wasn’t correct or, rather, not good enough, and he knew it: it almost felt like he had to somehow invent a whole new notation and he was second guessing every attempt. That, he knew, was as strong a sign as any that he needed a break.

Abandoning his work for the more welcoming sight above Mor Dhona proper, he took to his usual perch and leaned over the ledge to watch the activity below. Ever since he arrived there—since waking up, really—G’raha found the habit of people-watching a welcome one when it came to clearing his head. It had also been an old habit as well from his time as the Exarch. It was difficult at times to not be reminded of it when he went there to be alone--not that it troubled him, but rather his thoughts inevitably wandered to those he had to let go. To old friends and, naturally, to her.

What would Lyna think, he wondered. Of everything? Despite assurances, both given and told to own self, he knew it was a question not quite answerable. He was unfettered, free—free to live the life he wished. A second chance. Yet something gnawed away at his heart that only grew in the wake of what occurred in Ala Mhigo. And the Warrior of Light was nowhere in sight.

He didn’t wish to admit it, but that this point most of all prickled his thoughts. She had been wounded in the confrontation: not severely but enough to warrant considerable healing, namely for her arms. She berated herself for not properly handling the situation, that it was foolish to not deal with Fandaniel and his summoning there and then somehow. When the dust settled with wounds seen to and mended, she slipped away and out of his reach.

G’raha’s hands clasped together in front of him, fretting as his anxiety swelled. Ahlis said many things in the aftermath at the menagerie; much of which he knew was said in a fury he rarely witnessed. He also knew he ought to not dwell on it, as it was not directed towards him—but it felt personal, watching the anger and the walls that suddenly erected around her, forbidding his approach. Surely she knew, she must’ve known that he cared—that they all cared? G’raha understood what it meant to seek solace, to lick one’s wounds after a poor bout in battle, yet to shut him out? Why?

He huffed a frustrated growl, and pouted to himself. This is not about you, G’raha, his more sensible self spoke in his mind. It did little to help when he knew naught what to do with his...feelings, with no soul to utter them to. For the moment, all he had in certainty, was himself.

Looking above to the darkening sky, stars were beginning to sparkle in the deep blue, the gloom weak and unable to hinder their shine. He hoped that wherever Ahlis was, and however she felt, that her safety was sure and her healing swift.

---

Ahlis suddenly grasped the pillow within her bare arms as a sneeze escaped her nose and immediately regretted it.

“Bless you, dearest,” Aymeric spoke above her, his hands gently working her back’s aches and pains into a soothing massage.

“Augh, no,” she said, voice muffled by soft cotton where she shoved her face into it. The great debate of whether she should lift her head up or not kept her in place, lest she reveal a potentially not-so-graceful mess. “I think I ruined it.”

Wordlessly and only with a soft chuckle of amusement Aymeric rose to retrieve a handkerchief as if reading her mind in her current discomfort. When he returned Ahlis was already sitting up, the pillow still pressed to her face. He did not know how to assure her that there were far worse things that could ruin one’s bedding, but seeing the flushed look upon her face while she cleaned herself as discretely as possible encouraged him to say nothing.

“Are you feeling better?” Aymeric asked, once she seemed satisfied to show herself, the pillow and handkerchief no longer covering her face.

“Yes, thank you,” Ahlis spoke, relief entering her voice. “I am sorry, about this, though.” Her hands still held onto the pillow until he reached for it himself, lightly tossing it aside and back onto the bed.

“It is of no consequence. My home is yours, including the aforementioned pillow.”

That made Ahlis laugh, as he hoped it would, and Aymeric took this moment to join her again, sitting side by side upon the edge of the bed. It was useless however to ignore the wrappings around both her palms and forearms, both of which had been kept out of sight when lying on her stomach. Catching his glancing eyes, Ahlis took that moment to adjust her bandages.

“The pain is mostly gone. Now it’s just itching,” she spoke, more annoyed than in any sort of true discomfort. “New skin takes some getting used to and breaking in, imagine that.”

“May I see it?” Aymeric asked after a moment’s pause, his voice careful in its near-whisper like intensity.

For a second, she hesitated. Unraveling them didn’t hurt much anymore, so when she did reveal the newly healed burns that rested beneath she didn’t hold back in extending her arm in front of him. If only her heart that thumped heavily in her chest agreed! Nerves, however troublesome they proved to be, would do little in assuaging his concern.

“There you are,” Ahlis said with an exuberance she hoped sounded sure and confident. “It’s not so terrible now, aye?”

It was not her intent to fool him, rather, it was better than the ire she felt deep within at how it happened, and better still than to appear caught off-guard or foolish to have been struck at all by such an injury. It had been a mistake, one that could’ve gone even more horribly wrong in an instant if not for…

“Oh, Ahlis...”

Her thoughts stopped, everything stopped. She was helpless as she watched the shock that touched his eyes turn to despair, to pain that flowed into the tenderness that came with his touch as he cradled her wrist to his cheek. There was a knot of scarred tissue just below where his lips met her skin; the first kiss was given there, then another just above it towards her palm.

Such sensations, intensified against her freshly healed wounds, rendered her voice frozen within her throat. It was almost too much; she released a heavy, shaky breath that gave him pause, and Aymeric turned to look upon her so intensely, so painfully, she dared think she might cry herself.

“It’s fine,” she found herself saying, finally, unsure if it truly was after all.

---

Later, long after they had gone to bed, she would wake to see the stars out in the beyond just outside the window, the silhouette of spires cutting across the dark. A rare, clear night in the city. Gripped by the sight, she stole herself away to find a place to write...

Evenings have proven to be the best, and only time, to write clear-headed these days. As if I do not need sleep.

The itching has finally subsided enough to carry on without thinking about it and now I can finally sit for half a bell to write while at the same time not wishing to scratch my skin off. I’ve had lacerations, all manners of bruising and concussive injuries. I’ve even been shot at! But note to self: never get fucking burned like that again.

I’m going to kill that bastard with his own medicine, and I will enjoy it

[there is a drawing here of a figure in a robe with a sword skewering it all the way through, who is also on fire]

The healing has progressed as it will, and I trust Krile and Alphinaud’s hands more than any other—although granted my sourness over it all could have been a little less scathing, I guess.

But what can I say, a lot of bullshite has been happening these days. I’m getting a mite bit enraged that these Ascian arseholes aren’t leaving me alone, and yet I am not entirely surprised. It’s not over until it is over.

gods when will that be never ah ha ha ha

In the meantime I have made good on my own promises to make my own self comfortable as best I can, heal as best I am able, and spending what time I can in Ishgard. The others are probably wondering when I’ll return to the Stones but until G’raha outlines our approach on implementing proper protocol on the tempering solution I honestly don’t want to hear about anything else. Alisaie should be helping, I am sure, as is Alphinaud too I think. It’ll be fine! And fast too.

I mean I would help more too but I don’t have a crazy as all hells academic background as they do seven hells I’d love me a curriculum found in the Studium within those stupid halls and their even stupider “zero involvement” stance on bloody everything

share your goddamn science you twits

I am far more tired than I thought. But! I am also finally able to think about the impending reconnaissance we’re bound to have soon once Thancred and Urianger return.

if something happens with them I swear to ever loving shite I am going to boot them back to the First with my fist

Without my Stupid! Arms! Annoying me!

OH is that little

[the writing stops here with an ink blot, as if the pen was dropped and left there, the smeared and distinct shape of a cat’s paw crossing part of the page]

#my writing #the journals #this got way longer than I thought but I did it!#big thx to em for helping me edit this bless and thank #I enjoyed this even if it was difficult to write #hey I finally got some g'raha writing in AND some kinda fluffy angsty stuff? yeeee #; final fantasy xiv #patch 5.4 #shadowbringers #reading for maint har har

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emily-strange · 4 years

Text

Sparks Fly

Thank you for all the feedback on chapter 2! I hope you like this one.

Still a lot of talking but the action is coming in the next chapter haha I promise!

Chapter 3

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of Violence, *very* mild mention of child abuse (very very small), Mention of Drugs and Weapons.

…………………………………………………..

Emmy lies on the ratty old sofa and dozes.

After Butcher left, she went exploring and found a shower with some clean (she hoped) towels. The water was freezing but it meant she was able to get the dirt and grime off of her. She grabbed a tank top from her bag but after looking at her hoodie decided that she didn’t fancy putting the gross thing back on.

In one of the dingy bedrooms she found a short-sleeved shirt with a ridiculous pink pattern on it. She gave it a sniff and after determining it was cleaner than her hoodie, she put it on. It swamped her smaller frame but it kept the chill off. After finding an in-date energy bar, she collapsed back onto the sofa and eventually dozed off.

This is where she is when (who knows how many hours later) the door of the safe house bashes open.

“It’s done MM!” Butcher shouts as he comes stomping into the livingroom. MM follows carrying a woman over his shoulder as he grumbles. Emmy bolts upright and is ignored by both men when they storm into one of the bedrooms.

As she sits, calming her breath from the intense wake up, a third man comes hurrying into the room. He secures the door and mutters to himself in French. When he spots Emmy sitting wide-eyed on the sofa, he straightens himself out and rushes to sit next to her, extending his hand.

“Bonjour.” he says delicately and takes her hand, giving it the briefest of kisses, “You are, the…”

Emmy smiles and takes back her hand. Something about this man puts her at ease, his demeanour is calm despite his rapid breathing and dishevelled appearance.

“Um, Emmy.” She answers and he smiles widely.

“Un beau nom!” he says and Emmy shakes her head laughing a little, “Ah, uh, beautiful. Beautiful name. I’m…”

“….FRENCHIE!” Butcher shouts, interrupting the quiet, “Get tha fuck in there ‘nd help MM restrain ya girlfriend.” He watches Emmy smile genuinely at Frenchie and after the night they’ve had it pisses him off. A lot. Frenchie’s caused too much trouble!

Frenchie smiles warmly at Emmy and glares at Butcher before going to the bedroom where MM is. As the door closes, Emmy catches sight of the woman they’d carried in.

“What happened?” she asks quietly.

Butcher takes off his coat and tosses in onto the sofa next to Emmy. He runs a hand down his face and ignores the question. Before she can ask again, MM and Frenchie come out of the bedroom. MM making a beeline for the fridge.

The tension is thick as Frenchie moves to another corner of the room, his hands in his pockets. He looks down at the ground while MM downs a bottle of beer. Butcher heaves a big sigh and puts his hands on his hips, looking like a teacher about to scold his students.

“We have a fuckin’ long day t’morow alrigh’? Last thing I need is you at each ovas throats. We lost tha female ‘nd now we have tha female. So end of.”

Emmy points to herself and queries, “Who, me?”

“No not fuckin’ you.” Butcher growls and Emmy sarcastically throws her hands up in fake surrender. He then turns to MM.

“Go home. Get some rest.” he then turns to Frenchie, “You, make she’s definitely secure before hittin’ the hay.” Both men nod before moving to leave. Suddenly Butcher shouts, getting everyone’s attention again, “OH! And no more fuckin’ strays alrigh’! I didn’t think I’d actually haveta say it but…..fuck. Come on.”

MM scoffs and leaves with a shake of his head.

Even though Frenchie looks like he wants to have his say, he doesn’t. He does however look between Emmy and Butcher before shrinking into the bedroom housing the female.

Butcher checks his phone and collapses into a ratty chair that matches the sofa. He tiredly hangs his head back and closes his eyes.

For a moment Emmy just sits and waits….but that grows old very quickly.

“Okay, look, I don’t know what’s happening here oooor who that girl is but…..enough. I’m not a fucking stray and I definitely won’t be ‘restrained’ so…either let me leave or kill me.” She says sternly. Anger and annoyance bubbling up inside her.

Butcher doesn’t move. And for about 30 seconds Emmy wonders whether he’s actually asleep. Then he opens his eyes and looks at her.

“Wanna beer?” he says airily. Catching Emmy off guard.

“Um, no I’m good.” She says, “What game’re you playing?”

Butcher pushes himself up from the chair and grabs a beer from the fridge, taking a long swig.

“Oh luv, this ain’t a game. That girl in there is doped up to her fuckin’ eyeballs in summit called ‘Compound V’. Know anythin’ about that?” he asks, watching her face carefully.

“What? No. Why would I?” Emmy replies getting up from the sofa.

Butcher takes a second to look her over. She’s cleaner than when he left, she obviously found the shower. And she’s changed. He smirks a bit to himself when he sees how big his shirt is on her.

“You said ya family pushed drugs. They’re also on Vought’s payroll.” He states, keeping his mind on track.

“Yeah they do. Did.” Emmy says, quickly catching herself, “But like, Coke you know. Sometimes Meth if the money was right. Never heard of…whatever V.”

Butcher eyes Emmy and takes another swig of his beer. She can see that her answer has satisfied that part of his questioning. She groans, “Look. I’m losing it here okay? You gotta tell me what you want man.”

“That’s my shirt.” Butcher says quickly gesturing to Emmy.

“Oh..” she stutters, looking down at the shirt, “Did you…is that okay?”

Without answering, Butcher pulls out the piece of paper he took from Emmy earlier, putting it down on the table in the kitchen area.

“I sent a copy to a cop mate of mine. She’s gonna look inta it.” He grabs three more beers from the fridge and hands one to Emmy before collapsing into the chair again. Emmy stands for a moment with the beer, unsure what to do next. Butcher sees her hesitation and can’t help but chuckle.

“Look luv. I’m bloody knackered. No ones dyin’ t’night....well….unless that thing in there gets loose.” He says gesturing to the room with Frenchie and the Female.

“Fine.” Emmy says with a sigh and drinks some beer. She starts to sit down but stops herself, “You know what?! Not fine. No. Why are you keeping me here?! I don’t know anything. But I DO know what you’re doing. Keeping me off guard, on my toes, hoping I’ll slip…..well there’s nothing to slip!”

Butcher smirks, he’s always liked a feisty woman.

“I get that you hate people with….powers or whatever but like I said, I didn’t know I had any until recently.”

“Right, so what ya sayin’ is, you’ve not hurt no one wiv it yet?” Butcher asks knowing the answer.

Emmy stutters for a second, then drains more than half of her beer before sitting to perch on the edge of the sofa cushion. She squares her shoulders and looks at Butcher.

Butcher smiles and even though he’d never admit it, he’s impressed with how together she seems. Frazzled, sure, but she’s a far cry from the girl in the alley.

Emmy basically growls and shoots daggers at Butcher saying, “My names Emmy by the way. Not ‘luv’ and definitely not ‘sparky’.”

“I know.” Butcher answers quickly with zero emotion on his bearded face. Emmy can’t help the roll of her eyes and that only makes him want to annoy her more. He knows he can be such a child sometimes.

“Look. The family…..they were bad people. Are bad people…..” Emmy starts and mumbles the next part, “…I didn’t get them all” She drinks the rest of her beer and Butcher gestures with his bottle asking if she wants another. Which she does.

With another beer in her hand, Emmy turns and sits cross-legged on the sofa. She looks at Butcher and agrees mentally with his earlier statement. He looks exhausted. She knows she should be scared but from a young age Emmy’s always had this feeling that she’s been through worse. She’s survived worse. “Look, what do you wanna know?”

Butcher narrows his eyes at her and hums audibly, “Tell me about this family….mafia shit.”

“Um, okay so like I said. I grew up with them and you don’t just get to walk away when you’re 18….by then you know too much. About the weapons, the drugs, all that stuff. Every couple of years they’d take in another kid and sometimes they stuck and sometimes...they…didn’t.” Emmy pauses to have some of her new drink and grows uncomfortable under Butcher’s penetrating gaze. He takes note of her tense grip on the bottle and the darting of her eyes. She won’t focus on anything for too long. It seems that she may not be afraid of him and The Boys, but she’s scared of something.

“What happened when they didn’t stick?” Butcher asks when he senses her getting agitated. Better to have her focus and get it over with.

Emmy swallows, “Well. Sometimes a van would pick them up randomly one day. Or…they just disappeared. I’m pretty sure they’re dead. I have zero proof of that but it was always a bit of a threat you know? If you acted up. If you didn’t want to work.”

Butcher nods and the grip on his own beer intensifies. He grew up in a house run on fear. Imagining all those kids dealing with the same thing, without anyone to stand up for them. It makes him see red. Before he can dwell on it too much, Emmy continues.

“I wasn’t great with the books. Maths isn’t really my thing...” She laughs humourlessly, “…but when they showed me how to make the drugs and put together the guns, I just put my head down and did it. I planned to run a few times but always chickened out.”

“You were’a kid.” Butcher says resolutely.

“Yeah” Emmy nods, “But I’m not anymore…was still afraid.”

For a few seconds the two of them just watch each other in silence.

Butcher recognises the same self-hatred he sees whenever he looks in the mirror and Emmy, for once, feels no judgement directed towards her.

“I was weak. I didn’t help anyone but myself…About 10 years ago kids stopped getting dropped off. That was a fucking awful time. They were pissed. That’s about the same time Vought stopped the payments. From what I could tell from the paperwork anyways. I didn’t have that much time to peruse.”

Emmy hadn’t noticed but while she was talking, Butcher had swapped out her now empty beer for another one.

“I think that’s why they started shipping…people” Emmy grimace’s, “more money I guess? Anyway. When I found out I broke into the head office and just…..”

“Snooped?” Butcher finishes and gives Emmy a smirk that makes her stomach flutter. Maybe it’s the beer…

“Yeah, snooped. I found the Vought accounts. I was transferring the PDFs onto a drive but was…interrupted…”

Butcher gestures with his bottle to Emmy’s face, “That how you got the bruises? The ones I didn’t give ya.”

“Yeah. Boss and two of his sons. He has a few. While his sons were…giving the bruises, the boss just sat back and lit up a cigarette. I hate him…so fucking much.” Emmy stares off past Butcher and he smiles to himself. The type of rage she has is something he hoped Hughie would show signs of by now. He knows she said she can’t start fires but if asked, he’d of put money on her eyes shining red with flames.

“He always did that you know. Lit one up while someone else did the dirty work. No matter what it fucking was…those fucking white sticks poking out of his fat, ugly face. Then all of a sudden, that fat face was on fire. And before I knew it, everything was on fire.” Emmy laughs, “But I was just stood there…in the fire and not burning. It didn’t hurt at all. Before everything went completely to shit, I managed to print off one of the account files and ran….and then some asshole kicked me in the face!”

Emmy finishes her story by raising her bottle to Butcher in a ‘cheers’.

She laughs again before drinking but Butcher doesn’t join in. He looks at the fresh bruises blooming over her cheeks and jaw and internally flinches. Emmy notices his grim expression but before she can say anything, it disappears.

“Look, we’re bad guys. But we’re not that.” Butcher says leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees, “Whatta you willin’ to do to get answers?”

Emmy drains her beer and rubs at her tired eyes. Damn she feels tipsy.

“Umm, I dunno. Burn people alive apparently.” She answers, louder than anticipated and giggles. Butcher shakes his head and finishes his own bottle. Putting it on the ground by his feet.

“The girl in there was kept in a cage and pumped with some kinda supe speed…my job is to find out why…” Butcher begins but is cut off by Emmy’s hand throwing itself into the air.

“I’ll help!!!!” she says enthusiastically.

“Alrigh’ then.” Butcher nods and gets up, “Get some rest. N stay outta that room. Fucker killed many people t’day. Probably best you don’t run inta her until Frenchie can calm her the fuck down again.”

Butcher scoffs when Emmy salutes him. For a supe, she sure can’t handle her drink.

He watches her lie down and snuggle into the uncomfortable sofa like it’s a 5* mattress. He grabs his coat and throws it over her before making his way to the other bedroom. He stops when Emmy quietly calls his name. He turns and can just about see that her eyes are closed and that she’s pulled his coat up around her.

“…..I’m not sorry. About them. I’m not sorry.” She whispers.

Butcher turns the lights off and makes his way to bed without answering.

But he does smile.

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #karl urban #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x oc #billy butcher x ofc #billy butcher #the frenchman #frenchie #mm #mothers milk #the female #kimiko #sparks fly #billy the butcher

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pkg4mumtown · 5 years

Note

Literally anything that has to do with that GODDAM BELT SCENE in John Wick 3. I’m a sucker for rescue scenarios and some good old Wick domination

Title: Last Resort

A/N: The belt scene killed me! I saw the movie three times and made the same fucking noise each time. I tried to incorporate all three things into one, so we’ll see if I succeeded.

Rating: M (violence, cursing, mild sex), female reader

Summary: The reader is out to fill a contract, but someone gets in her way.

I took a deep breath as I approached the hideout of some Russian asshole with a sizable contract out on him. Due to the price, I set out to complete the contract as quickly as possible; staying up late last night to memorize the layout of the hideout. I checked the chamber of my pistol, making sure I was set to go before listening against the door for any signs that someone got here first. All was silent, so I quickly picked the lock and peered in.

I favored a longer distance from my opponents, so a silenced pistol was a must as I stalked through the hallways. The area was heavily guarded as he knew he had a contract out on him, but his guards didn’t expect an attack so soon, so I was able to take them off guard. I made my way through cleanly, eventually coming to a door that I knew was one room away from the target’s office.

I had confidence oozing out of my pores at the ease in which this mission had been so far. I pushed the door open slightly with my shoulder and checked the areas that opened to me asI did. The door was barely half way open when a hand clamped down on the muzzle of my gun. In my over confidence, I made a rookie mistake and had stuck my pistol too far out in front of me which left me open to attack.

I cursed as I tried to wrench my weapon back, opting to push hard against the door to throw the assailant off balance. His grip on the gun remained, however, and the weapon was ripped from my hands as he stumbled back. I rushed in, tackling him before he could recover his bearings. I took note of the sheer amount of men in the room, hesitating slightly as I realized they heavily guarded the last room as a fail-safe. No wonder the rest of the place had been so easy. I jumped on the first assailant, grabbing my knife from my belt and stabbing him in the chest and head quickly. A group of men rushed me, and I held them off as long as I could, until one of them had managed to get behind me. I felt his arm wrap around my neck, squeezing tightly while a couple others grabbed my arms and legs. I grimaced as I felt plastic zip ties clamp around my legs and dig into my skin. The arm around my neck released me as my arms were twisted roughly behind my back and zip tied. I threw my head back, cracking the man behind me in the nose but earning me a punch to the stomach. I lost my balance, falling on my wrists and ass as I tried to catch my breath.

I looked up, seeing one with a bloody nose, “Sorry, did that hurt?” I snarked at him.

He kicked me in the ribs and sneered back in a heavily accented voice, “You’re lucky boss wants you alive. Something tells me he’s going to have a great time with you, bitch.”

I let out a pained groan through clenched teeth as I felt a hand wrap itself into my hair and drag me across the floor. I was lifted by my armpits into a metal chair. The zip ties on my feet were cut, but my legs were grabbed too quickly to retaliate and soon each leg was tied to a chair. I tried to tilt the chair but found that it was bolted into the floor rather securely. The zip ties on my wrists were cut and my arms were wrapped around the back of the chair and re-bound. One of the men spoke into a radio, briefly exchanging words with the other voice, who I assumed to be my target.

“He’ll be with us in a minute,” the man chuckled.

One minute turned into five as I shifted impatiently in my chair. A panicked voice came over the radio but was so filled with static that it was unintelligible to my ears. My head shot up and saw the wide eyes of the rest of the men in the room. The majority of them ran out of the room with guns drawn, leaving six men in the room with me, in front of me, but facing away as they trained their guns on the door. I kept my eyes on them as I twisted my wrist inward to attempt to grab a knife that I kept inside of my jacket sleeve, which they neglected to check. I was able to grab it with my fingertips, before letting it slide into my palm, so I could cut my restraints. It was small but would serve its purpose. I could hear the faint sound of gunshots and screams as I worked, watching the men in front of me grow more and more nervous as the sounds grew closer. I briefly wondered who else was determined to fill the contract and who had the reputation to rattle these men. One of the men turned and faced me, backhanding me in anger. I clenched my fists tightly to keep from fighting back, so he didn’t know I had cut my restraints.

“You think your little guard dog can save you?” he spat.

“I didn’t bring anyone with me, asshole,” I snarled back, spitting in his direction. He hit me again, the skin of my lip broke and bled as a result. “Fuck you.”

He grabbed a piece of cloth from his pocket, grasping either side of my face and digging his fingers into the hollows of my cheeks until I opened my mouth. As he was finishing tying the cloth around my mouth, the door burst open and gunshots rang out. Four of the men dropped dead nearly instantly, letting me see a figure using a dead assailant as a human shield. The assassin fired another shot but missed. He tried to fire again but noticed his gun was now empty. The empty pistol was flung at the face of one of the last two men. He dropped the human shield, revealing the assassin as none other than John Wick. I snorted to myself, typical John to go throwing guns at people. He charged the disoriented man and tackled him to the ground. I took my chance as both men were focused on John and his knife.

I quickly bent over, cutting the two zip ties around my ankles, removing the makeshift gag, and stalked away to find my gun. I quickly located it and sped over to the door to the target’s office. I stopped when I felt a hard, metal object hit my upper back and clatter across the floor. I turned around, rolling my eyes as I spotted the discarded gun and John’s form approaching me in a few quick strides.

“You don’t think I’m gonna let you take the kill, do you?” he questioned, his hands coming to his hips.

“Why do you always last resort to throwing guns at people, John?” I huffed reaching behind me and rubbing the area the gun hit. I pointed my gun at him after, daring him to do something.

“That’s not my last resort,” he smirked. His hands dropped to his belt, quickly unfastening it and sliding it from the loops with a quick snap. He made a show of folding it in half and snapping the two halves together, “I’ll fight you for it.” He released one end, letting the belt extend to the floor while he tilted his head and challenged me to shoot first.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one of the target’s men enter the room with his gun drawn. I snapped my aim to the man’s head, over John’s shoulder, and fired once. The man slumped to the floor in a heap with a hole in his head. I pointed my gun back at John, who wore a stupid grin on his face. I glanced at my gun, seeing the slide locked in the rear of the gun to tell me it was empty. I took a page out of John’s book, chucking the gun at his head. He side stepped the projectile easily, chuckling at my attempt.

I threw my hands up in a shrug, “Zero out of ten, would not try that again.”

I lunged at him, narrowly missing being slapped by the belt as I ducked under it. I stepped on his bent leg, using it to climb his body and get my legs around his neck. I swung my body through the take down, sending him to the floor.

“I was here first, John. I did half of the work already,” I defended verbally, dodging another swing of his belt as he got up.

He folded the belt in half, threading his free hand through the loop and twisting it into a defense weapon. I moved to strike him, but he deflected me, allowing his arm to slide the belt along the back of my neck and around until he was choking me.

“Yet, the only reason you’re up is because I distracted them for you,” he almost growled in my ear.

I had managed to squeeze my fingers in between the belt and my neck before he tightened too much. He was close behind me since the belt was short while folded in half, so I threw my head back into his chin and elbowed him in the ribs repeatedly until his grip on the belt loosened. I grabbed one of his arms and flipped him over my shoulder, using my hips as leverage since he was so much bigger than I was. He landed on his back but immediately flipped over so he could push himself up. I was faster, driving a knee in his back to keep him down.

“We’ll go halfsies,” I requested, pulling his head up by his hair.

“Not a chance, Y/N,” he gritted out.

The office door opening caught both of our attentions, as the target stuck half his body out of the door. The hand not holding onto John’s hair, reached under my pant leg and grabbed a knife. I flung it at the target, the knife embedding itself into his throat.

My knee didn’t hold John for very long as he still managed to stand up with me attached to him. Me stealing the kill didn’t help the situation either. John was pissed. He basically threw me off his back, sending me sliding into the, now open, office. I shoved the legs of the dead target out of the way as I scrambled to get up before John could get to me. My movements were interrupted by the sting of the belt coming down across the top of my ass. While it hurt, I tried to bite back a moan but failed. The room got quiet except for our labored breathing. I glanced back at John, who was equally as shocked as I was.

“You enjoyed that?” he questioned with a tilt of his head.

“Go fuck yourself,” I muttered, standing up and searching for a weapon on the desk in the office.

I wasn’t fast enough, soon finding myself trapped between the desk and John’s chest. His hand found the back of my neck, forcing my face down into the desk. I felt the sting of the belt on one side of my ass, causing me to flinch away but moan still.

“You really do enjoy it,” he said in awe, almost to himself, as if he didn’t believe what he heard the first time.

“Fuck you,” I huffed, trying to get out of his grasp. I was only met with another strike of the belt.

“I mean, if you want to,” he chuckled, making a joke out of my cursing.

“I haven’t had decent dick in a while, so excuse me,” I mumbled against the desk.

“Ask and you shall receive,” he rumbled lowly behind me.

A weak plea escaped my lips at his words, “Please.”

I heard the belt clank next to my face on the desk. His free hand reached around and found the button of my pants, flicking it open. He dragged the zipper down and yanked down the garments until his eyes could see my bare ass. Fuck, was this really happening? His dress shoe-clad foot stepped in my pants, dragging them down my legs further. His hand left my neck briefly to work on his pants. I raised my upper body slightly, only to have my head forced back down to the desk.

“Stay,” he growled.

This time, when he removed his hand, I stayed put. I released a shaky breath that I didn’t know I was holding, the anticipation killing me slowly. It wasn’t long before I felt his length slide along my entrance. My needy whimper was satisfied seconds later as he filled me roughly. I gasped at the intrusion while my fingers scrambled for anything to hold on to. His hips met mine hard and fast, the whole ordeal almost coming to an end too quickly for his liking. His entire body stilled, forcing some self discipline into the situation. My imminent high slowly started to disappear farther from my grasp the longer he waited.

“Don’t toy with me, John, I swear I’ll—”

I didn’t get to finish my frustrated threat because he was grabbing the belt and forcing it between my open lips. I bit down on it almost too willingly, the ends being held behind my head by a single, large hand.

“I think I liked it better when you couldn’t speak,” he whispered harshly, tugging on the belt slightly. I mumbled angrily around the belt at his words. His hand came down on the reddened side of my ass, another moan escaping my lips. “You done?”

I let out a frustrated growl but nodded anyway. I moaned pitifully in the back of my throat as his hips resumed a slightly slower pace. In a hideout full of dead bodies, the only sounds were our sighs, grunts, and skin meeting repeatedly. It was still all over too quickly, but we couldn’t chance anybody else coming in and catch us off guard with our pants literally around our ankles. I could imagine it, The Baba Yaga finally killed because he stopped for a quickie.

I caught my breath while laying on the desk, moving my aching jaw as John’s grip on the belt finally loosened. As quickly as he had entered me, he pulled away. I heaved myself up, not bothering to clean up until I got back to The Continental. I turned around, facing him and seeing a few beads of sweat disappear into his beard.

“You owe me a new belt,” he stated, holding up the strip of leather with teeth marks along the middle of it.

“That’s dramatic,” I rolled my eyes, running my fingers along the marks that looked like they would vanish in a day. “I’ll wire you half, ‘kay?” I strode over to the target’s body, snapping a picture and sending it as proof of completion.

“You already paid me, but if you’re feeling generous…” he trailed off, securing the belt back around his pants. “Need a ride?”

“Your car or you?” I asked, following him out of a back entrance.

His laughter echoed off the corridor walls, “Both.”

PART 2

Taglist: @cuttlefishcatfish @anita-e-taylor @synesthesiasocks @samanthagraceg @beyond-antares

#john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick x you #keanu reeves x reader #Female reader

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 5 years

Text

All In Good Time

Summary: Tired of seeing his best friend wallowing in whiskey after another disappointment, he finally confesses a well-kept secret.

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo2019 & @spndeanbingo. Please excuse the poorly written smut, it’s been a while since venturing down that path and I was constantly distracted but things OTHER than the smut at hand. Oh well, hope you enjoy it!

Square filled for SPN Fluff Bingo: Best Friends to Lovers

Squared filled SPN Dean Bingo: FreeSpace

Warnings: Mild angst, Smut (18+ ONLY), Language

WC: 5.3K

Tags at the end of fic. Gifs not mine, credit to owners.

“Drinking that isn’t gonna make it stop, you know,” Dean said as he sat on the stool beside you.

“Stop what?” you asked without looking in his direction.

“Whatever you’re trying to forget.”

“You think you’re so damn smart, Winchester.” You did not need Dean’s brand of pep talk at the moment.

“Because I am,” he smirked. “As my best friend you should know how smart I am, and that I’m right about ninety-five percent of the time.” He finally turned to look at you and raised his brow teasingly. “If I remember correctly, last time you were throwing them back this hard, you’d been dumped by that chucklehead, Rocco. Can’t believe you dated a guy named Rocco…” he shook his head, disappointed in your past choices and drank his beer.

“Bite me,” you growled and threw back the rest of the whiskey in the glass.

You held it up for the bartender to refill and when he came to do so, Dean placed his hand over the top of the glass and slightly shook his head with a frown.

“Dean, don’t be a dick—”

“She’s good,” he said to the bartender, who took one look at you and agreed that Dean was right.

“What the hell?! I wasn’t done,” you snapped at him, incredulous about his decision that you’d had enough to drink. “I’m not even that drunk!”

“Yeah, you are.” Dean slid the glass out of your reach, keeping his eyes locked with yours only infuriating you more.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m a big girl, Dean. We aren’t fifteen anymore and you don’t need to protect me from myself or anyone else for that matter.”

WHO did he think he was, anyway? This night sucked. You got stood up for the second time by some guy you really thought could be the one. You thought he nearly perfect, and he seemed to accept your job and lifestyle as well as understood that you were a fiercely independent woman. Clearly, you’d been wrong and, so what, if you wanted to drink away the anger and hurt you felt for being duped, again.

“Me?” Dean mused, and sipped at his beer, “Oh, I’m just the guy who has been looking out for you for your whole damn life. The guy who knocked out Trent Moore when he tried to feel you up in the back of Bobby’s car. Also, the same guy who made sure that your shit-for-brains mother didn’t get you killed when she was drunk and went after a poltergeist.”

“Great, thanks for those reminders,” you moaned and turned on your stool to face the room and lean both elbows back on the bar. “Look, if you’re not gonna let me drink, lay off the trip down memory lane, okay? Not in the mood.”

“Deal.” Dean swallowed the rest of his beer and stood from the stool. “Come on then. W can shoot pool, or go watch a movie… whatever you want,” he reached out a hand to help you up, but you swatted him away.

“No! Just go, man. Let me wallow.”

“You know what… you’re a stubborn ass bitch. Fine, wallow! I’m so fucking tired of watching you do this. Oh, and next time you need a savior, sweetheart, call Sam, cause I’m done playing your white knight!”

Dean’s face was twisted in frustration, anger, and hurt, which left you confused. In all the years you had known him, he never got this mad at you before and you didn’t understand what made this time any different.

He reached into his pocket and slapped down cash on the bar, then turned and headed straight for the exit. You felt shocked and frozen in place, watching him storm through the bar and out the front door. Dean had been your best friend for most of your life, and sure there had been arguments; many, many arguments. But never had he straight up yelled at you before and it wasn’t sitting right to leave things with him like this.

You brushed your feelings of wallowing aside and found a purpose to move off the stool. The alcohol you’d already consumed made you feel lightheaded at the sudden movement, but your concern over Dean’s departure took precedence. No matter how you felt, you could not let him leave like that.

You found him in the parking lot. He was pacing back and forth in front of the Impala; his fists clenching and unclenching in sync with his jaw. You watched for a moment, hesitant to approach him in his current state. That’s when he looked up and saw you standing there. Unsure of what to say, you just shrugged. Your mouth fell open to speak but no words would come out.

Dean’s brow was still buried in frustration that was directed straight at you. It wasn’t like him to be this angry, not over you wanting to drink away the thoughts of another disappointment. Normally he joined in, helped you to bounce back by cracking jokes and getting drunk alongside you.

“I can’t with you right now, okay?” he grunted from under his breath. “Just go back inside.”

“Dean… I’m sorry. Whatever I said…”

He snorted a laugh and bite his lip. “You’re sorry. For what? You don’t even realize what you’re sorry for, do you?”

“No, I don’t. But clearly, I did something to piss you off. I never want to fight with you, Dean. Not really fight, anyway. So, whatever it was—”

“Fine, you wanna know? Really?” his voice rose with each word, his anger come through with each decibel.

Seeing him this way, and having it directed at you was not something you’d experienced before. Afraid that the wrong thing would make him angrier, all you could do was nod. Dean drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was centering himself; he’d never admit that’s what he was doing, but it was. There was nothing you didn’t know about him. At least, you thought you knew everything about it.

“Since we were sixteen years old, any job we worked together, I watched you meet someone, hook up, and then get dumped. Each time, you ended up hurt, scared, or in a predicament that me or Sam had to rescue you from.”

His words stung and you wanted to be annoyed with him; but the truth was, Dean was right. There was nothing you could say that would help, so you remained silent and let him finish.

“For years, Y/N, years… We’ve worked together, killed some evil sons-of-bitches together… we’ve celebrated and mourned. We’ve drunk ourselves silly, and bandaged each other up, countless times...”

Dean paused, his entire body sighing as it released the built-up fury he had been holding onto. He unclenched his fists and took a few steps closer to where you stood.

“In all that time, I made some of the best memories of my life. Between you and Sam, you guys were my home. Everything good I can think of is wrapped up in you and my brother. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I am tired of seeing you get like that over yet another piece of shit asshole who can’t see how damn lucky he was that you even looked his way.”

You felt your stomach drop out, not because of what he said, but because of how he looked at you when he said it. Your mind flashed through a dozen scenarios where he had come to your rescue; with guys, monsters, your own mother and had even saved you from yourself a time or two. If it hadn’t been for Dean, you would have been dead years ago.

“I—I don’t know what to say other than, you’re right,” you said softly, the whiskey and culpability was still stinging in your throat. “I shouldn’t have depended on you for so long. I put you in these terrible situations, and—”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and brought his hand to his face, running it over his worn features. “You’re fucking clueless…”

“What now? I’m trying to apologize and tell you that you were right! What more do you want from me, Dean? What?!” You could feel your hands starting to shake, and a bubble of your rage starting to rise and your throat now on fire from the volume of your voice. “What the FUCK do you want from me, huh?!”

People passing by were starting to stare, so you closed the small bit of distance between you, ready to unload a little more without attracting a crowd. But when you got closer, Dean started to laugh.

“What the fuck is so funny?” you asked, breathing hard through your nose trying to simmer the boil of frustration.

“You. You look ridiculous when you get angry.” He was smiling now, not quite laughing, but the grin he wore was genuine and reserved for moments with people he trusted.

“You’re bipolar, Winchester,” you huffed, trying to contain your temperament.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. But I think its more that you just drive me insane sometimes.”

“Oh sure, blame ME for your particular brand of crazy! I don’t know what to do any more here, man. I can’t do anything right with you, lately.”

“What the Hell does that mean?” Dean asked with a flare of insolence.

“The last three jobs we’ve worked? You barked at me for no reason. You’re short with me when I ask you to stop while on the road, you constantly ride me for shit that I have zero control over!”

“Then why do you stay, hm? Why not go off on your own? Hunt alone?”

“I’ve tried! You just keep finding me and taking me along to the next job! Friends don’t let friends hunt alone, remember?!”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. “I need a drink,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Shouldn't have closed out the bar tab,” you muttered.

“You know what—” he lifted his head, the look of aggravation back on his face. “I’m—this is—fuck it! God, you frustrate the shit out of me!”

In a moment’s time, Dean had your face in his hands and his mouth on yours. Your first instinct was to retreat, then slap him across the face. Quickly following that, was the sudden desire to kiss him back. There had plenty of times you discreetly watched your best friend from the corner of your eye when he didn’t realize you were looking. How could you not? Dean was a gorgeous man, but more than that, he was sexy and funny. He was basically every girl’s fantasy. From his green eyes and freckles, right down to his bowlegs and boots. He was cocky and arrogant, smart as hell, and had a smile that could only be described as the devil’s handiwork. But never, in a million years, did you imagine he would have any interest in kissing you. In more than twenty years together, he never once tried nor looked at you like he wanted too; at least from what you could remember.

Dean’s lips were soft, yet he used them roughly against you. Every time you felt yourself pull back in the slightest, he continued to draw you in. You were fully immersed now, and when his mouth parted, you found yourself kissing him back just as greedily. His hand circled around to your neck and tangled up in your hair, entwining his fingers in the wispy strands and gripping them tightly. It caused a rush throughout your body; partially because of the whiskey still flowing through your veins, and partially because it just fucking felt so good.

You moaned softly into his mouth involuntarily and you felt his lips unfurl into a slight smirk. He slowly pulled away from your lips but left his hand concealed in your hair.

“Get in the car,” he growled. “Please.” It was only to try and sound like he was being polite, but there was nothing well-mannered about the way he was holding you in his gaze. That’s when he released you completely, and there was no hesitation in your decision to get into the front seat of the Impala and leave with him.

Dean followed suit and got behind the wheel. He fired up the engine and before he put his most prized possession in gear, he reached out with his right hand and gripped your thigh. Sliding you closer to him, he kissed you again, gentle and wanting, leaving his hand to rest on your leg and kneading his fingers into your flesh as if he were a cat.

Without a word, he pulled back, put the car in gear, and speed off down the road to the motel you all had been staying at.

The motel door flew open with a bang. Dean pulled you into the room and slammed it shut so hard that it rebounded off the frame and opened again. You took a few more steps into the room he shared with Sam, though Sam was nowhere to be seen, and watched as Dean made sure the door was not only locked, but the chain was up.

You were almost afraid to speak. Dean had this look in his eyes that challenged you to say something, anything he could use to prove whatever point it was he was trying to make. But you didn’t give in. You were too nervous and excited about what was going to happen; realizing for the first time how much you had wanted it to.

He stalked you; his green eyes, now full of lust and want, were affixed to his prey. Dean moved slowly from the door to where you stood. As he crossed the room, he removed his jacket and threw it in the corner by the window. Next, his flannel came off and was tossed in the same direction. His eyes never wavering from you.

The ripple of his muscles on his arms was prominent now that his body was tense and anxious. The closer he got, the more your heart began to pound. How could you not have seen this in him before; all these years attached at the hip never once did you realize he would be looking at you the way he was then.

“I wasn’t gonna have this conversation with you in the parking lot of some dive bar,” he said, and despite the edge to his demeanor, his voice was gentle and calm. “I wasn’t gonna tell you, how many times I wanted to kill some guy who had his hands on you in some bar. Or a random joker on a case we were working, trying to get you meet them for drinks--”

“Dean…”

He ignored you. “I wasn’t going to tell you how many times I came so close to telling you that I wanted to be that guy and…” he trailed off, now directly in front of you, the arms you had just been admiring reaching out for you.

“And, what?” you managed to ask despite the lump in your throat.

Dean leaned in and kissed you again, slipping his arms around the lower part of your waist. When you felt him lift your feet off the ground, you let him and locked your arms around his neck. He took a few steps towards the bed and put you back on your feet at the foot of it.

“All those nights I watched you eyeing up any other guy but me… I was starting to resent you for it. Tonight, I finally realized that it’s my own damn fault.”

Your arms were still up around his neck, your lips a breath apart. “What do you mean?”

Dean didn’t answer at first, instead, he took your arms off his neck, and slipped your jacket off, letting it fall to the floor and kicking it out of the way.

“I got scared to tell you, that you were the one I wanted to take home every night. I should have told you. Instead, I kept quiet, would watch you go off with someone else and then I end up going home with some mediocre stand-in that never seemed to measure up to you.”

You didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t ever given you an indication he thought of you like that. Not that you had looked at the Winchesters as brothers, but there was a closeness that you felt to them; Dean especially. Anything physical felt like it would be crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. It was scary to think of life without Dean and Sam, and if you DID cross that line, it could go wrong and eventually cost you their place in your life? That couldn’t happen.

“Now you know why I wasn’t gonna let you wallow over some guy, not again. You can go if that’s what you want. Certainly not going to make you stay here, but I really want you too, Y/N. Stay tonight. Give this a chance.”

He was pleading with you now, nearly begging with the crease of his brow and the hope in his eyes. You couldn’t leave, you didn’t want too. He had been in front of you this entire time, and the only thing you wanted to forget was how many nights had been lost that you and he could have been together.

There weren’t any words that would convey what you wanted, so you took action instead. You locked in with his gaze and began to shed your layers of clothes until you stood before him in only your bra and underwear. His tongue ran nervously over his bottom lip at the sight of you while his eyes drank you in. Dean reached out and ran his fingers from your shoulder and down across your collarbone, then let them drift down your cleavage.

You took the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head, throwing it off to the side. From there, everything happened in what felt like seconds. Dean was kicking off his boots and pulling off his jeans. He had you down on the bed, laying his weight on top of you, running his hands across your flesh, and letting his mouth explore your neck. He pulled down your bra, exposing your breast to the warm air of the motel room. Dean brought his mouth to your nipple, running his tongue over it, making your entire body shiver.

His other hand ran down the length of your body, and pawed at the hem of your panties, yanking them down and finding the hood of your sex. Just the promise of his touch, caused his name to moan from your lips.

“Say it again,” he growled lowly, moving his mouth back up to your neck.

“Dean, please…”

His fingers slipped down and moved against your clit, the sensation of which was overwhelming. He moved slowly, toying with it, and with each pass against your most sensitive place, caused your back to arch up into him, and him to smile with satisfaction.

Dean moved further down, and let his fingers easily slid up into you, and the more you reacted to his touch, the more his erection grew against your leg. You dug your nails into his back, then ran them down to the boxers he still wore. Yanking them down, he looked down at you and smiled.

“Look who’s all impatient now,” he teased.

“Fuck you, Winchester,” you moaned as he thrust his fingers up into you with a bit more force making you gasp with both surprise and pleasure.

“In a minute, honey, in a minute… waited a long time for this…”

Before you could respond, Dean kissed you, hard. His tongue taking control and swirling with yours greedily. It was all too much for your overstimulated body, and you felt yourself ready to cum. Dean knew it too, he could feel the fluttering warmth of you around his hand, and it only made him insistent to continue.

You forced your head back, arching your chest up to him and cursed as he suddenly pulled his hand from you, before your release could come to fruition. He stood from the bed and let his boxers fall to the floor, before going into his jeans pocket, retrieving his wallet and pulling out the condom he kept there.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him curiously. “Look who’s mister responsibility,” you teased.

Dean shrugged but flashed that damn smirk. “Told you, been waiting for this for a long time. No way I was going to come unprepared.”

While he was taking care of the necessities, you moved further back on the bed after slipping off your bra and underwear. Dean finally climbed on the bed next to you; your heart pounding and your sex throbbing for more of him. You moved him so he was sitting against the headboard, and you straddled his lap, positioning yourself over him.

Dean’s gaze was greedy, but the animalistic lust he had earlier was gone; now he just watched you close, as if burning the memory of this night into his memory forever. As you sank down, letting his cock slide up into you, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed as his head rolled back against the headboard and his fingertips dug into your hips. It took only a second for you to start rocking against him; moving your hips in slow, methodical circles. With each pass, his mouth fell open, and his breathing intensified.

“Jesus… Fuuuuck…” he growled when you ran your nail up his chest and clasped your fingers behind his neck.

You guided his head to your chest, where he took your breast in his mouth, licking and sucking at your nipple. The faster you moved, the hungrier he became. Your head rolled back, and your overstimulated clit was pulsating with each pass you made against him. Your mind was completely lost in the moment with him; nothing before him had ever felt this good, this right… this euphoric.

His hands were beginning to grip you harder, moving you faster while his eyes opened and locked with yours. You wanted to speak, encourage him to fuck you as hard and fast as he wanted, but you didn’t have to because he saw it on your face. Your climax was rising again, and when you finally came, he did too, moaning your name and burying his head between your breasts. You could feel him throbbing inside you, matching his release with yours. Then, sighing as both of your muscles relaxed and you melted into each other.

A thin sheen of sweat coated both your bodies, as you cradled him against you. No rush to move off him, nor did he want that either. Dean lifted his head and reached his lips up to yours, as his hands slid around your waist and down over your ass.

“Worth the wait?” you asked, nearly breathless but smiling down at him.

Dean chuckled and moved his one hand up to brush a patch of sweaty hair from your brow. “And then some.”

You kissed him gently, then moved off his lap, falling to the bed beside him with a sigh of satisfaction. Dean reluctantly got up from the bed and excused himself to the bathroom. He was only gone a minute and leaped back into the bed next to you, attacking your neck with his mouth. Though you were exhausted, your body was still reeling from being with him. Forget the physical sensation, but the emotional one was all your mind could focus on now.

Dean Winchester, he had been your best friend for more than twenty years. He was the one you sought out for advice, he was your hunting partner, your drinking buddy, your partner in crime and in shenanigans. Now, was he really going to be your lover, too? Could you see yourself being with him like that? Risking a lifetime of friendship for the possibility of falling in love?

You wanted to say something, but not ruin the moment either. Instead, you just let yourself go, and tried not to think about it. Dean had the covers pulled up over you now, and rolled you onto your back while trailing light kisses along your shoulder.

“You okay with all this?” he asked, his expression turning serious.

“If you’re asking if I regret it, no, I don’t. But what is all this, exactly?”

“Whatever we want it to be. There’s no rules here, Y/N. You know, besides my brother, you’re the most important person in the world to me. And, yeah… I’ve wanted you for a long ass time. But I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Pressured into what?”

Dean considered for a moment and tried to choose his words carefully. “Being with me. Just me. If that’s not something you want—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted and sat up on one elbow. “I’m good right here with you, Dean. Doesn’t need to be defined. I realize now all those others were just a placeholder for you, too.”

“You really mean that?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Really.”

Dean settled back into the bed and drew you into the crook of his shoulder. You laid there wrapped in his arms, just breathing him in and relishing in this sudden turn life had taken when you heard the door start to open. The chain caught it and you pulled the covers up to your neck just as Sam’s face stuck through the crack in the door.

“Dean! Come on man, let me in,” he whined.

Dean looked to you and chuckled when he saw your expression. “You good?”

You nodded slightly and sunk down into the bed, pulling the covers over your head. You barely had time to register that you and Dean just had mind-blowing sex and were now discussing being a thing, but you had to contend with Sam, too?

“One minute,” he called out, and Sam shut the door.

Dean grabbed his boxers and jeans, slipped them back on and went to let his little brother in.

“Sorry, I was uh… entertaining,” Dean smirked and raised his eyes brows in triumph as Sam walked into the room.

“Man, seriously? Can’t you get your own room for that?”

“Sorry little brother, these things can’t be helped.”

Sam looked around and saw the mess of clothes all over the floor, then noticed your breathing lump beneath the covers.

“Dean,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your company is still here.”

“She sure is.”

“Hi Sam,” you spoke up sheepishly through the blanket over your face. “How’s it going?”

“Y/N?!” he gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he whipped his head around to look at his brother, who nodded still wearing his victorious smile. “Jesus…” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Well, damn, its about damn time. Geez. I just don’t get why you guys couldn’t have went to her room?”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and uncovering your face. “What does that mean… about time?”

Sam’s face immediately blushed when he realized you were completely naked under the sheets. He turned his head and stuttered his response. “It’s—it—it’s just that… you and Dean, this has been coming for a while and—” he smacked himself in the head for his choice of words. “Dammit. You know what I mean. You know what, I’m gonna go… I can’t be here right now.”

“Take my room, Sam. Key is in my jacket pocket. And don’t worry, this doesn’t change anything. I promise I’ll still let you ride shotgun.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then quickly turned to grab your coat from the floor and retrieved the key before he made a quick exit from the room. Dean was snickering at his brother as he slammed the door behind him and could be seen nearly sprinting away down the walkway towards your room.

“So, that just happened,” you groaned and fell back to the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about Sammy, he’ll take it all in stride.” Dean came back and laid down on top of the covers next to you. “Like he said, it’s been coming for a while.”

“In your mind, maybe,” you said quietly and cast your eyes away from his scrutiny. “I never thought you even considered me like this. You were always eyeing up some other girls, talking about this one or that one…” you shrugged, and sat up straight against the headboard.

“I was trying to make you jealous. Guess I was too much of a coward to just be upfront about it,” he paused and swallowed hard. “You were it, though. The one I always thought that would be there in the end.”

“Is that what this is? The end?”

“End of one thing, beginning of another,” he smiled and leaned over to leave a kiss on your shoulder. “Still friends though. That’s always gotta come first because no matter what, you’re stuck with me.”

You felt an odd sense of relief in knowing that this friendship cultivated over two decades would remain and come first. “I can handle that.”

“Good. Now. Can you handle getting your clothes back on? You see, this chick I’m sleeping with distracted me from the burgers on the menu at the bar and I’m starving. She was being a sloppy drunk, I had to get her home--”

You raised your fist like you were going to punch him and he rolled away from you. But your arm hooked around his waist in time to prevent him from getting off the bed. You forced him back to where he was and quickly straddled him again. That look of lust was already back in his eyes as you grabbed his wrists and pinned them back up against the headboard.

“I may have been drunk, but I can still pin your ass down.”

“Unfair advantage when you’re naked and I’m weak-willed.”

You dove down to his neck and left a rough, biting kiss there. “Still want that burger?”

He shook his head and a mischievous gleam glistened in Dean’s eyes. In one swift motion, he had you flipped on your back while he hovered over you and used part of his weight to hold you down. He trailed his mouth down your chest and across your abdomen and positioned himself between your legs. Still sensitive from your first encounter with him, the touch of his tongue against your clit caused a whole body shiver to course through you.

“Fuuck, warn a girl, would ya?” you mewed as your hands gripped each side of his head to try and control him as he lavished your sex with his tongue.

Dean wrapped his arms under your thighs and then pinned them open further, giving him as much access to you as he could get. Your hips moved with him, your moans louder and louder with each pass of his teeth and tongue. This time when you finally came, he refused to let go, drinking you in until your body went limp with exhaustion.

You watched him through the hazy afterglow, sit up and wipe his face clean with the sheet, leaving behind only that triumphant grin.

“Now, I’m ready for that burger,” he winked. “Wanna grab a shower with me real quick? Go find some grub?”

Still, in a daze from everything, you were able to give him a smile and nod, because words just wouldn’t come. Dean helped you up off the bed but held into your hand for a moment.

“Still feel good with all this?” he asked, his features softer than normal.

“Yeah, Dean. More than good. Best I’ve felt in forever, actually.”

“Alright then. Shower, burgers, bed,” he said, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom. Though you playfully smacked at his back to put you down, you never wanted him to let you go. You never wanted to spend another night without him.

Everything tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87 // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @letsby // @thefaithfulwriter // @sister-winchesters99

Supernatural tags: @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @mrsbarnes-rogers // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovainfangirl // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @waywardgypsy // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98 // @lyoly // @a--1--1--3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all // @collette04 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278 // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme

#spnfluffbingo2019 #spndeanbingo #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader insert #dean winchester fan fictions #spn bingo

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theatrekidgerardway · 4 years

Text

He’s All That- Ch. 2

Ch.1- https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369699/chapters/53443525#workskin

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“Bucky Barnes, has anyone ever told you what an absolute idiot you are?” Sharon slapped him in the face with a pillow and he slowly opened his eyes to see her fuming face.

“Good morning to you too. And for the record, yes, you, everyday of my life.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes, reaching for a glass of water and aspirin some kind soul put on his nightstand. His head was pounding and it hurt to whisper. He gave Sharon a once-over, not surprised in the least that she was already dressed and caffienated.

Sharon rolled her eyes, “Well you deserve it. Do you know what wonderful decision you decided to make last night?” “What, besides getting drunk because of my ex-boyfriend, and still not getting laid that night?” Sharon narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms.

“ Yes, besides torturing yourself over an asshole who doesn’t deserve you. You know Steve Rogers?” Bucky thought back to an Art History course he had taken in freshman year.

“Short, blond, skinny punk that gives off major twink vibes? Yeah.”

Sharon sighed exasperatedly and continued. “ Anyways , you made a stupid bet with Tony about making him Do-Over King or something, and if you couldn’t, he would get to choose the apartment, and according to that wretched drunk pact we made freshman year, I’m a witness, and you can’t go back on your word.”

“Wait, the Do-Over Dance? You mean that second-rate high school dance made by and for runner-up prom queens?”

“Yes, that one.” Bucky flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping it would give him the answers to the universe. He lasted for a solid thirty seconds before Sharon’s face hovered above his.

“I would say ‘you’ve made your bed, now lie in it’, but this room is a mess, and it’s more of an uncomfortable grave than a nice mattress.” Bucky rolled his eyes and sat up.

“Wow, Sharon,” he deadpanned, “you’re such a kind and supportive friend. I truly don’t know how I’d live without you.” Sharon grinned, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

“I do, you’d be dead in a ditch three years ago. Thank god I’m here. Now get up, the only way you’re going to get that boy to do anything with you is if you take a goddamn shower, Jesus. ” Bucky hit her in the head with a pillow, and she promptly dropped to the floor. He fell back into bed and pulled the covers over his head.

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbled from underneath.

“Love you too!” she yelled.

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The birds were chirping too loud, the sun was shining too bright, and everyone was too goddamn happy for Bucky to deal with humanity. He glared at everyone under his mop of hair and stomped to the courtyard, coffee in hand and pain in his head. Scanning the area, he zeroed in on the scrawny blond that was, at the moment, the root of all of his problems (in retrospect, he will realize that this is no one’s fault but his own, and maybe 86% Tony’s fault) sitting under a cluster of trees with a sketchbook in his lap, staring at nothing in particular. Bracing himself for the worst, since that was truly what he deserved, Bucky approached Steve, and shoved a coffee in his direction. It was enough to startle Steve out of his daze, and he looked up in confusion.

“Do I know you?” he asked, his eyes flitting from the cup in his face and the disgruntled child giving it to him.

“Bucky Barnes, how’s your day going? Better than mine, I’d hope.” Steve gave him one more odd look, not unlike a startled cat, before taking the coffee.

“Steve Rogers, and pretty okay. Any particular reason why your day’s shit so far, and also why you’re speaking to me? Thanks for the coffee, by the way.” Bucky dropped down next to him, much closer than Steve would have expected, and turned to him. He wasn’t bad-looking, by any standards. Tall, muscular, with bright blue eyes and brown hair that fell into his eyes. Steve felt his heart stutter a bit.

“Breakup, leading to getting drunk, leading to a hangover. All in all, not a fun time.” Steve smiled wryly.

“I believe that. Any response to the second question?”

“Oh, that. I dunno,” Bucky shrugged, scrambling for exuses, “you looked kind of pathetic, sitting here all by yourself.” He winced internally, and a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sharon was screaming at him to learn how to flirt.

Steve’s smile had been replaced with a frown, and he let a little self-pity seep into his words, and mood. “Gee, thanks. Next time I don’t have anyone to talk to because I have a grand total of one friend, I’ll try to make my lonely aura a little less obvious. Thanks for the coffee, but I don’t take cream and sugar.” He dropped the coffee into Bucky’s lap, and stood up.

“Wait--”

“I’d say I’ll see you around, but I’m kind of hoping that doesn’t happen.” Steve walked into the campus building, leaving Bucky with two coffees, and a sour taste in his mouth. Bucky sighed, pushing himself up and walking in the other direction, dropping both untouched coffees in a trash can.

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“Nat, do you know a Bucky Barnes?” Natasha glanced over at Steve from her canvas. He had walked in all sulkily and spoken in one-word sentences since.

“Tall, dark, handsome, gay? Yes, why?”

“Nothing, just, would you consider him to be an asshole?” Steve asked. Interest piqued, Natasha put down her brush.

“Quite the opposite, why?” Steve flushed a bit, from anger or embarassment, he wasn’t sure.

“Just an odd interaction, that’s all. I’ll tell you about it later.” Natasha was hesitant to back down, but figured she’d hold him to that statement. The silence between them remained for about thirty seconds before he spoke again.

“I just- I mean- at first glance, would your first adjective to describe me be pathetic?” Natasha’s brows furrowed, and she turned to face Steve. His face was twisted into a frown, and he was violently painting his canvas a bright red.

“No. Hipster, nerd, introvert, maybe, but pathetic is pretty low on the list.”

“Now, are you just saying that because you’re my only friend which, that’s pretty pathetic in and of itself, or because you actually believe that.” Natasha sighed, and put down her palette. She scooted her stool over to where he was sitting.

“Steve, something tells me it doesn’t matter whether or not I say that you’re not pathetic.” Another red streak on the canvas.

“Perhaps.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re a tad dramatic?” Natasha asked. A small smile broke through Steve’s mopey attitude, and she considered it a victory.

"All the time. Every day. News flash, it’s you.” She laughed, and bumped shoulders with him.

“Hey, Taco Bell and Netflix tonight?” she asked.

“Don’t you have a date?” Natasha shrugged.

“I can cancel,” she replied with a grin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

@the-southernbelle @angelhaz11

#hazsangelswritingchallenge #stucky #steve x bucky #marvel #natasha romanoff #tony stark #sharon carter #she's all that au

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ghostofviperwrites · 5 years

Text

Celebration

Pairing: Evil/FCs/Sanada

Category: Smut

Warnings: Drunken LIJ boys getting into trouble, smut, humiliation, choking, spitting, I’m not kidding they are complete and total assholes in this and this fic is filthy. You’ve been warned.

Sanada rarely got sloppy drunk. He generally liked to keep his head clear and emotions in check. But tonight was different. He was celebrating and he was out with Evil. Evil never met a drink he didn’t like and he loved to get loud and rowdy. As the World Tag League Champions Sanada figured they deserved to let loose and have some fun. So here he was in a place he normally wouldn’t be caught dead in, talking to girls who, while gorgeous, were a bit skankier than he would usually entertain and downing cheap whisky like it was going out of style. It was kind of fun to slum it occasionally. And he wouldn’t ever tell him so, but it was fun to do it with Evil.

“Is that a smile I see on Cold Skull’s face?” Evil slurred sliding into the booth and throwing his heavy arm across the shoulders of his friend and tag team partner.

“No.” Sanada denied schooling his expression back into the familiar face of disdain he normally wore.

“Yes it was. Admit it rich boy, you’re having fun.” Evil laughed.

“It’s not altogether terrible.” Sanada admitted shrugging Evil’s arm off him. Evil just shook his head chuckling at his friend’s obstinate behavior.

“Would it improve your experience if I got a couple of chicks to suck us off under the table?” Evil asked, his eyes landing on two likely prospects. They had been eyeing the table for a while now, and Evil could tell they were just the right type.

“Couldn’t hurt.” Sanada smirked. “We’re not gonna land in jail are we?”

“That’s the benefit of these slum bars my friend. They let you do whatever the fuck you want.” Evil said sliding out of the booth and heading towards his intended targets.

“See my friend over there?” Evil said pointing out Sanada as he approached them. “I want you two to go climb under that table and suck his dick for him. He doesn’t care what your names are and he doesn’t want to talk to you. Just get down and get him off. Got it?” The girls nodded eagerly and hurried over to the booth Sanada occupied, following Evil’s instructions implicitly and immediately crawling under the table.

Satisfied they were doing as they were told Evil continued onto the bar ordering a few rounds of drinks for himself and Sanada and returning to the booth, sliding in next to his friend who had his eyes closed, head leaning back against the booth as the girls pleasured him.

“One of you come suck me,” Evil said passing a shot glass to Sanada who quickly downed the liquid with a wince as the cheap liquor burned his throat. Evil threw back his own shot smirking at Sanada as he kept a straight face, getting comfortable as he felt hands on his belt. He knew it wasn’t Sanada’s scene, but this was why Evil liked these kinds of places. Dirty chicks willing to do dirty things without him having to spend any money on them. Sanada was rich and pretty, so when he hit up the fancy places he didn’t have to work too hard to get what he wanted. Evil had to put a bit more time and money in for those stuck up bitches and sometimes he just didn’t want to go to the effort.

The two continued conversing, pounding back drinks while ignoring the girls sucking them while they came up with plans for the rest of the evening. They were debating finding another dive bar, or, Sanada’s suggestion, to one of his upscale clubs.

“Swallow,” Sanada commanded, breaking from his conversation to press the head of the girl down on his length, fully burying himself in her throat as he came with a grunt, keeping her in place until he felt her swallow everything down and pulling her off him. “Help your friend.” He said pushing her by the back of the head towards Evil’s cock.

Evil shifted as the girl wrapped her hand around his length while her friend continued sucking his tip. His own climax wasn’t far behind, shooting his load onto her tongue and then tucking himself back into his pants and dismissing them with a wave of his hand. He rolled his eyes as they climbed out, pouts on their faces as their casual dismissal. He didn’t know what else they expected sucking off two strangers in a bar.

“Alright pretty boy,” Evil said quickly downing the last two shots on the table and slowly sliding out of the booth, making sure he had his footing steady as he rose. “We did my thing, let’s go do yours.”

Sanada flashed a messy smile and scooted out of the booth, hand grasping Evil’s shoulder as he stumbled a bit. Huffing he straightened up as Evil laughed and brushed nonexistent dirt off his suit jacket before the two made their way out to the streets and hailed a taxi to take them to their next destination.

Sanada was recognized immediately and ushered straight into a private VIP section, which Evil had to admit was kind of cool. No waiting in lines for Seiya Sanada. The last time Evil had come here he had to wait like everyone else. He didn’t tend to flaunt his celebrity like Sanada did, but he would concede its benefits. They had barely slid into the booth when a pretty waitress arrived to take their orders for drinks and some appetizers.

“You fucked her didn’t you?” Evil asked as the waitress scurried away having avoided direct contact with Sanada the entire time.

“I did.” Sanada confirmed with a smirk.

“Hopefully she don’t spit in our drinks cause you’re a dick.” Evil said with a grin knowing exactly how much of an asshole his friend could be when he was done with a woman.

“She won’t.” Sanada said with complete confidence. “She knows better. And she’ll still do whatever the fuck I tell her to.”

“Bullshit.” Evil said. “She won’t even look at you.” Their gazes shot to the door as it opened, the waitress returning with a tray of drinks and their appetizer platters. As she sat everything on their table she once again completely avoided looking at Sanada, making Evil nudge his friend in the ribs with a triumphant grin. Of course Sanada wasn’t going to let Evil win so he had to prove his point.

As she turned to leave Sanada reached out and grabbed her wrist, halting her exit. And if his signature smile was a little sloppier than usual it didn’t seem to matter as he pulled her close to him, her eyes widening and breath hitching as he hit her with his smoldering eyes that promised all sorts of delights.

“I want you to take off your panties and put them on the table.” Sanada told her firmly, releasing her wrist and sitting back against the plush velvet booth as he waited for her to obey. Evil growled and rolled his eyes as she complied with barely any hesitation, shimmying out of her little black panties and putting them on the middle of the table and looking to Sanada for approval.

“Thank you for proving my point.” Sanada said with a grin. “You can go now.” He dismissed her easily, popping a sushi roll into his mouth as she hurried out of the room.

“She ain’t gonna get us kicked out of here is she?” Evil asked an echo of Sanada’s earlier question at the dive bar.

“That’s the benefit of money Evil, they’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want.” Sanada replied with a grin. Evil chuckled at the irony and picked up his drink, looking out over the dance floor below through the one way windows of the room they were in.

The two friends relaxed, enjoying their food and drinks and toying with the waitress every time she returned, Evil getting a kick out of how she kept falling all over Sanada despite how badly he was treating her. It never ceased to amaze him what a combination of good looks and unlimited money got you out of life. Evil always found it a bit funny how well he and Sanada got along considering they were polar opposites. This high end club really wasn’t Evil’s style, but as Sanada had gone along with Evil’s plans earlier in the evening he was willing to play on his field.

Bellies full and well past intoxicated the two were discussing how to round out their evening out, mulling an interlude with the waitress who kept coming back for more when Evil’s boisterous countenance suddenly changed as his attention was caught by someone on the dance floor. His laughter cut off and grin faded, a dangerous sneer appearing. Immediately noticing the change in his friend’s demeanor Sanada followed Evil’s gaze.

“You know her?” He asked as he saw the woman who had caught Evil’s attention standing by the bar.

“She’s a fucking cunt,” Evil snapped, lip curling in a snarl. “Met her one night while I was out. Stuck up bitch. Wouldn’t give me the time of day cause I wouldn’t spend eighty thousand yen glass of wine. Said people like me shouldn’t be allowed in these clubs. Like I was gonna fucking contaminate her because I don’t have enough zeroes in my bank account. Bitch needs to be taken down a few pegs.”

Sanada’s hand clenched in fury around his crystal tumbler, anger coursing through his veins that some bitch had treated his friend like that. As far as Sanada was concerned, turnabout was not fair play. He and his friends could treat women as badly as they liked, but he’d be damned if they were allowed to disrespect them. Hypocritical? Sure. Did he care? No.

“So let’s knock her down then.” Sanada suggested drawing Evil’s gaze off the dance floor, a malicious smile crossing the rainbow haired man’s face.

“Let’s.” Evil concurred, visions immediately swirling through his mind of exactly what they could do to the stuck up bitch. He watched as Sanada exited their private room and soon saw him striding across the dance floor, brushing off the various women who tried to stop him for a dance, moving with a single minded purpose towards the woman at the bar. Evil shook his head with a smile as he watched just how easily Sanada gained her attention. Even drunk and bit off his A game he still had her melting at just a few words, and in moments had an expensive glass of wine in her hands. Some may be jealous of just how easy Sanada had it, but Evil had been around him long enough, knew him well enough, to have experienced the downside of those attributes as well. It wasn’t always fun and games for Sanada. Pretty faces and money didn’t always buy happiness.

Turning his head at the sound of the door opening Evil grinned at the returning waitress, beckoning her to his side with a crook of his finger. She nervously approached, watching him warily as he kept waving her forward until she was practically in his lap. She reminded him a skittish colt, wanting attention so badly, but afraid of it all the same. Figuring he had some time to kill while Sanada worked his magic Evil turned to her for some entertainment. One hand attaching itself to her waist he raised the other to her lips, running his finger gently across the soft skin.

“Suck it.” He said, pushing his index finger past her lips and into the moist heat of her mouth. She kept her eyes trained on him as she fellated his finger, rolling her tongue around the thick digit. “You’re very talented with that tongue. Did Sanada get to enjoy your mouth?” He asked chuckling as her face burned bright red. “Don’t get all shy on me now sweetheart. Not while your mouth fucking my fingers.” He taunted pushing a second finger into her mouth and smirking as she gagged a little as he pushed them deeply in. Evil grabbed her hand and pulled it to his crotch, making her palm him. “See how hard you’ve got me? Just with your mouth on my fingers. Shame I’m not going to get to enjoy it on my cock, but we’ve got other plans tonight.” He lamented. “Maybe I’ll have to come back to see you, give you a chance at my dick. Would you like that?” He pulled his fingers from her mouth as she eagerly nodded, her hand cupping his dick and giving him a squeeze making Evil cast his eyes to the bar to see if maybe he had time to give her a go. But he found Sanada guiding their prize towards the stairs and knew it was going to have to wait.

“Time for you to go. My entertainment is on the way.” Evil said, giving her rear a rough smack and watching as she hurried from the room.

Evil took great delight in the way the stuck up bitch’s eyes widened when she saw him, clearly remembering their previous encounter and she drew up short, making Sanada collide with her back.

“I see you remember my friend.” Sanada said.

“Seiya?” She asked in question, eyes darting between the two men. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you we were going to play. I may have failed to mention my friend Evil is going to play as well.” Sanada grinned. “You were very rude to him the last time you saw him. You’re going to make up for that.”

“I…I am?” She stuttered, head swimming in confusion.

“You are.” Sanada confirmed with a nod. “What you are going to do is get down on all fours like the bitch you are and crawl to him. Then you’re going to apologize for being a stuck up whore.” Evil would readily admit that he was outright shocked when she did exactly as Sanada told her to, dropping down to all fours and crawling across the plush carpeting of the room until she reached Evil’s feet. He wondered just what his friend had said to her down on the dance floor to make her so compliant.

As she crawled Sanada stripped off his jacket and tossed it into the booth watching the tantalizing sway of her hips as she crawled before turning his attention out over the dance floor. Though the girls from earlier in the evening were fun, Sanada much preferred these women. High class, well put together women who thought the world owed them something. He loved to destroy that illusion, make them realize they were just as worthless as the rest. At the end of the day they all ended up in the same place, spread open beneath him. It was just more fun to him to destroy the well put together ones who thought they were above such base instincts.

Evil sneered down at the woman as she knelt at his feet and he could see her battling with her pride, torn between saving face and pleasing Sanada. It was a wicked web he seemed to weave around women. It seemed most of them forgot themselves, were willing to debase and humiliate themselves at just few words from him.

Glancing once more at Sanada she was disappointed to see he wasn’t paying any attention to her as he nursed a tumbler of whisky and watched the bodies writhing below.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly, keeping her gaze firmly on Evil’s shoes, not sure her pride would let her look up at him. She still wasn’t sure exactly why she was doing this. Why the handsome man in the suit seemed to hold such sway over her that she was obeying him almost unquestioningly.

“I don’t think that’s a very heartfelt apology,” Evil scoffed. “Look at me and tell me you’re sorry.”

Swallowing thickly she took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes, almost flinching back from the cruelness in his eyes. She remembered back to their first encounter, the cutting words she delivered because he refused to buy her a drink. Thinking back it was the same drink Sanada had plied her with earlier before enticing her to follow him upstairs. Her eyes flickered from Evil to Sanada and quickly realized that their meeting downstairs had not been by chance at all.

“I do like the smart girls Evil.” Sanada said smirking down at her as he watched realization dawn on her face. “I like them intelligent enough to understand exactly what is happening. So the next morning they realize exactly what they did and they hate themselves for not being strong enough to walk away. To know that despite how fucking smart they think they are, they still let themselves be treated like a fuck toy.” He moved to squat down next to her, his hand moving to stroke her hair as she looked at him with eyes burning with humiliation. “Isn’t that right Rika? You’re going to do whatever we tell you to, aren’t you?” He taunted, the two men laughing when she meekly nodded her head. “That’s what I thought. Now properly apologize to my friend for being a stuck up bitch so we can move things along.” Sanada rose to his feet and returned to his spot by the window.

“I’m sorry Evil. I’m sorry I behaved like a stuck up bitch when we met previously. I was rude and it was uncalled for.” Rika said keeping her eyes trained on Evil’s as she threw away her pride.

“and it showed you what a gold digging whore I am.” Sanada coached when she paused.

“And it showed you what a gold digging whore I am.” She parroted. When the door opened she tried to rocket to her feet, only to be held in position by Evil’s hand on her shoulder. The waitresses’ eyes darted between the group before she turned her attention to the table, trying to adhere to her employment guidelines to ignore the going ons in the VIP suites. It just struck a little close to home, a reminder her of her own encounter with the handsome wrestler. Gathering the empty dishes she scurried away before Sanada and his friend turned their attention on her.

“Still not good enough.” Evil said with a shake of his head. “My feelings are still hurt. I just really don’t feel like you’re sorry. Sure you’re saying the words, but I really don’t think you mean it. I don’t think you’ve suffered enough to see the errors of your ways.” He chuckled as she looked up at him in despair, fear shuddering through her as she saw the coldness in his eyes. “See Rika I wanna make you so sorry that every fucking time you see me you beg me to let you suck my cock in apology for being such a cunt.”

Sanada watched in amusement, leaning against the glass windows as he let his friend take the reigns of the evening’s entertainment. He had no doubts Evil would follow through on that threat and he was rather interested to see how this all played out. Sanada nursed his drink as Evil ordered her to strip, then made her kneel in front of him once again.

“Put your hands behind your back.” Evil told Rika reaching for his belt buckle and moving to stand behind her as she complied. With a whoosh he ripped his belt from the loops, making Rika flinched at the sound and tense expecting the leather to strike her flesh. Instead Evil wrapped it around her wrists binding them together and moving to stand in front of her. With his foot he kicked her knees, spreading her legs further apart as she struggled to maintain her balance.

“Owe.” She complained as his foot connected once again pushing her wider.

“Honey you are in for a long night if you think that hurts.” Evil chuckled eyeing her stance. Satisfied he nodded and squatted down so he was eye level with her. “Cause that ain’t nothing compared to what we’re going to do to you.”

Evil raised his hand and patted her cheek roughly then trailed his hand down her body, stopping to tweak her nipples before continuing down to the apex of her thighs. His fingers hovered over her bare pussy teasingly close. Rika could feel the heat from his fingers and was unable to help arching herself towards him in hopes of getting some contact from him.

“Maybe if you had been this eager the first time we met you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Evil taunted as he noticed her movements. “You want me to touch you? Want my fingers in your pussy?” Rika nodded quickly, silently asking for him to touch her. Evil brushed over her flesh, lightly tapping on her pussy before sliding one thick finger through her folds and pulling out the glistening digit. “I think she likes being treated likes this Sanada” Evil said as he sucked the juices off his finger.

“They all do.” Sanada said matter of factly examining his nails with an air of disdain. “Never met a bitch who wouldn’t beg.”

“Is he right Rika?” Evil asked his hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. “You like being treated like this by me? The man you were too good for? The one who shouldn’t be allowed in places like this one? You sure you want these fingers inside you? God only knows where they’ve been.”

Rika swallowed deeply, shame coursing through her veins as she nodded in Evil’s grip. “Please.” She said sighing in relief when he dipped his free hand into her folds, pushing his fingers through her folds. Rika moaned as his fingers manipulated her clit, Evil keeping her staring right into his eyes as he pleasured her. Releasing her chin Evil plunged two fingers into her cunt, curling them inside her as his thumb rubbed circles around her clit. As he fingered her, Evil saw Sanada exiting the room, before turning his attention back to the moaning bitch in front of him. Taking the fingers of his free hand Evil pushed them passed Rika’s lips smirking as she gagged at the intrusion, his thick fingers pushing down heavily on her tongue making drool run from her mouth. Pulling his hand from her mouth Evil wiped her spittle all over her face and palmed her face pushing her until she fell onto her back. Evil immediately climbed between her legs, burying his fingers and pumping them deeply.

“Fuck my hand.” He said giving her a sharp slap on the inner thigh. Rika began moving her hips the best she could, wincing as her hands were painfully pressed into the ground the belt buckle digging into the tender flesh of her back every time she moved. Evil watched as her pace increased, occasionally rubbing his thumb on her clit to give her some added stimulation. “Look at you. Look what you’re willing to do for some pretty boy with some money. Maybe this will teach you not to be such a stuck up bitch.” Rika shook her head back and forth as pleasure coursed through her, racing so close to the edge that she cried in disappointment when Evil pulled his fingers from her, protests flying from her lips.

“That’s funny, did you think we were going to let you come?” Sanada said as he walked back into the room in time to witness her ruined orgasm. In his hands were a few bottles of wine and he made his way to the table, pouring a glass for himself and raising the bottle in silent inquiry to Evil.

“Liquor is liquor.” Evil said rising to join Sanada by the table. Taking a sip Evil raised an eyebrow in appreciation making Sanada smirk.

“Much better than that cheap shit you had me choking down earlier isn’t it?” Sanada asked getting a shrug from Evil in response.

“Speaking of choking, come here Rika.” Evil pointed to his feet. He and Sanada laughed watching her struggle for several moments before she was able to roll onto her stomach and skootch herself up onto her knees and crawl over to the spot indicated by Evil. “Open your mouth.” He commanded unzipping his pants and pulling his thick cock out, his hand stroking the length to hardness as her eyes followed the movements as she held mouth wide in anticipation. When he finally put his cock into her mouth she nearly hummed in appreciation, his velvety tip rubbing on her tongue made her want to lick him for days. But he didn’t let her enjoy it long, immediately thrusting deep into the back of her throat making Rika choke around him, eyes watering at the intrusion as she was forced to take it with no way to push herself off him. Evil’s hands buried themselves in her hair, keeping her nose firmly pressed to his waist as he enjoyed the feeling of her struggling around him, getting desperate in her movements. Finally he pulled off her and Rika sucked in precious air only to find herself immediately shoved onto Sanada’s cock by Evil, his hands pushing her to take all of his friend as she just had him.

Trading places with Evil’s hands, Sanada wrapped Rika’s silky strands around his fingers tightening his grip and yanking her on and off his cock, getting off on the gagging sounds she made every time he re-entered her throat. Evil moved behind her and knelt down, wrapping an arm around her waist and putting his hand between her legs, sliding his fingers inside her and pumping away, teasing her close to another orgasm as Sanada abused her throat. Rika tried to keep breathing through her nose, but was finding it difficult to concentrate with Evil’s ministrations and Sanada altering his rhythm enough to keep her guessing. She couldn’t manage to get a satisfying breath and was starting to feel lightheaded. When Evil once again stopped short of making her cum she groaned around Sanada’s cock, pouting as he pulled out of her mouth and she again found herself yanked onto Evil’s cock.

Sanada reached to her nipples, grabbing a pebbled peak between his fingers and rolling it gently then pinching harshly providing a contrast of pleasure and pain that went straight to Rika’s throbbing core. She screamed in pain around Evil’s cock when Sanada slapped her breast, leaving a stinging pain burning through the flesh, eliciting another scream when he repeated the action on her other breast, continuing the action again and again while Rika felt tears running down her cheeks as she struggled through the pain and pleasure and lack of oxygen as Evil continued to gag her with his dick. She almost fell on her face when they both stepped away from her, leaving Rika gasping in mouthfuls of air, panting wildly as her lungs filled.

Recovering Rika looked up at the two men, both tucked back into their pants and looking none the worse from their exploits. Sadly she couldn’t say the same for herself as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the windows, hair sticking out everywhere, arms behind her back, makeup smeared everywhere. They were right, she thought. Under it all she looked like a whore just like the rest. Fancy clothes and makeup gone she was no better than every other girl that had passed through this room.

“Are you thirsty Rika?” Her eyes flew to Sanada surprised by the unexpected kindness in his voice and she warily looked from him to Evil who looked rather surprised as well as Sanada held the bottle towards her in offer.

“Yes.” She answered slowly, cringing at the rasp in her voice certain her throat would be aching tomorrow.

Sanada rose with the bottle in his hand, looming over her as she cricked back her neck to stare up at him. She was actually more frightened of his kind smile than she had been of anything that had occurred thus far and her inner alarms were going off like crazy.

“Open your mouth.” He said, that smile slowly fading as her mouth opened of its own accord. Rika recoiled and gagged when Sanada spit directly into her mouth almost throwing up on the floor only stopping when his hand yanked her head back and forced her to look up into his cruel gaze. “Swallow it. If you puke on this floor I’m going to make you lick it up.” He growled. Rika nervously swallowed, blanching as bile rose in her throat and she frantically shook her head in denial when he once again commanded her to open her mouth. But again she complied not knowing why she was allowing this abuse to continue. She watched as Sanada took a swig from the bottle before once again spitting into her mouth. This time she swallowed without command, making Sanada smile triumphantly.

“See how easy they are to train Evil?” He asked his friend as he stepped away from her. “Two times and the bitch is swallowing my spit.” Evil shook his head, frankly kind of awed at his friend’s control of this woman. He made a note to hang out with Sanada more often. He could only imagine the kind of trouble the two of them could get into together.

“You gonna do that for me sweetheart? Or do you only swallow pretty rich boy spit?” Evil asked stepping into Sanada’s previously occupied space. Again Rika found herself opening her mouth obediently, watching with trepidation the man above her, while hoping if she pleased him he would make her come with those talented fingers of his. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, something felt right to her being on her knees serving them as they saw fit.

Evil grinned as he spit into her waiting mouth and watched her swallow quickly without hesitation, only the barest hint of disgust on her features. When she opened again this time he spit on her cheek.

“Oops. I missed.” He said unrepentantly. “Let me try again.” By the time he was done Rika felt disgusted with herself, feeling his spittle dripping through her hair and down her cheeks, coating her lips and tongue.

“We should probably give her something to wash off with, don’t you agree Evil?” Sanada asked, looking with derision at the once proud woman kneeling before them covered in spit. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

Careful not to touch any of the spit in her hair Sanada again yanked her head back by the hair and poured the bottle of wine over her, washing away Evil’s mess and gagging her as it filled her mouth faster than she could swallow.

“You should enjoy that. That’s the good stuff you so rudely demanded from my friend.” Sanada said with sneer as the last few drips fell onto her upturned face. “Now get the fuck out of here. We’re through with you.”

“But, but..” Rika protested. “We didn’t….I didn’t…but we’re not done.”

“You might not be done. But we are.” Evil said reaching behind and pulling his belt free from her hands, inspecting the wine stained leather. “Dude, you fucked up my belt.” He complained to Sanada who shrugged without care.

“Seriously Rika,” Sanada sneered when he noticed she had yet to make a move to leave. “Get the fuck out of here before I call security to escort you out.”

As soon as she was dressed and had scrambled from the room Sanada turned back to Evil who was still bitching about his belt.

“Shut up about the damn belt. I’ll buy you a new fucking one.” He told his griping partner. “Now. I still need to get off. What do you think about the waitress?”

“I’d say there’s no way she’s fucking you again, but you’ve proven again and again tonight that women just don’t tell you no.” Evil said rolling his eyes as Sanada grinned and nodded smugly in acknowledgement. “So I say get her ass in here so we can get off. I’m ready to go home and pass out.”

Sanada hit the call button and the two seated themselves with another glass of wine as they waited for her to appear; casually discussing the tournament and the upcoming match at Wrestle Kingdom for the tag team championships. When she entered, she froze in the doorway as their attentive gazes landed on her, eyeing her like two predators after a meal. She swallowed hard, wondering what was in store for her after seeing the woman that was in here before hightailing it out of the club looking like she was sent through the wringer.

“Get naked. My friend and I are going to play with you.” Sanada said simply watching with hooded eyes as she complied with his demand. “Now come undress us.” She moved slowly to stand in front of Sanada, hands trembling as she unbuttoned his shirt and folded it carefully, setting it on the seat behind them before unbuckling his pants and removing them and the boxers repeating the same procedure before she turned to Evil and undressed him in like fashion.

As soon as she was done she found herself pressed against Evil’s chest and startled when Sanada’s hands came to a rest on her waist from behind.

“You should consider yourself lucky. We’ve already had our fun tonight. We should be rather docile for you.” Sanada grinned into her ear, biting harshly on the lobe and making her yelp at the sting of pain. “Or maybe not.” He chuckled sinisterly as his fingers curled into her tender flesh. “We don’t really do docile.”

Evil laughed in agreement before capturing her lips in a brutal kiss, nipping at her pouty bottom lip as he pushed his tongue inside, his hands running through her hair and pulling her closer to his body as Sanada knelt down behind her, his hands pushing part her legs and long fingers working themselves inside her body. Sanada twisted his fingers making her moan into Evil’s mouth and then bit down on her ass cheek, leaving a firm imprint of his teeth before smacking the other globe.

Evil maneuvered himself so he was sitting on the edge of the booth and pushed her away from his mouth, bending her over to guide her lips to his waiting cock. He grunted in pleasure as she sucked on his tip, her small hands stroking and twisting around his dick as she hummed around him. Sanada took advantage of her new position, spreading her wide and pushing his tongue into her folds, lapping at her juices while thrusting his fingers inside her. She ground herself against his tongue, sucking hard on Evil when Sanada’s tongue flicked across her clit repeatedly and his fingers curled inside her. A few more passes of the tongue and twists of his hand and she came grinding against Sanada’s tongue.

Sanada rose to his feet and got in position behind her, lining his cock up with her dripping pussy and pushing in inch by inch as her legs trembled beneath him. Evil kept her attention on him, guiding her head up and down his length as Sanada thrust into her, using his hands to rake down her back, leaving red lines down her pale flesh. Sweat formed on Sanada’s brow as he fucked her roughly, slamming repeatedly into her waiting hole and jarring her down on Evil’s cock until Evil pulled her off, breathing heavily.

“Switch me.” Evil said panting as Sanada pulled out of her pussy and easily lifted her up and swung her into Evil’s waiting hands. Evil seated her on his cock with a single push and shoved her head forward to meet Sanada’s cock, His thick hand swinging down to smack her ass, leaving a bright red print that made him grin. Another slap had her moaning on Sanada’s cock as he buried himself in her throat repeatedly, and Evil continued to turn her cheeks ready with alternating slaps as he thrust into her. Feeling himself approaching climax he latched his hands onto her hips, pulling her down to meet every one of his thrusts as Sanada grabbed her hair and kept her attached to his cock.

With a last thrust and a loud grunt Evil came inside her as she pulsed around his cock, moaning incoherently around Sanada as his hips stuttered and his load shot into her mouth. Detaching himself from her Sanada collapsed into the chair behind him breathing heavily from exertion, closing his eyes against the slightly spinning room.

“Bring us some water and then disappear.” Sanada told the girl, cracking one eye as he watched her dress. She scurried from the room as Evil lay back on the booth seat and reappeared moments later with several bottles of water. Setting their check on the table she hurried out, knowing from her last encounter that the best thing to do when Sanada was done with you was to get far away.

Sanada caught the bottle of water Evil tossed to him and quickly downed it, in desperate need of hydration after the night they had gone through.

“We definitely need to do this again.” Evil said as he sat up with a groan, nursing his own water bottle.

“Agreed. And not just when we win tournaments.” Sanada concurred.

“Well, between Naito and Okada you don’t exactly have a lot of free time.” Evil pointed out and Sanada had to nod in concession. He did tend to hit the clubs pretty hard with those two. But if he was being honest he had a lot more fun with Evil than he had with either of the other two.

“Tell anyone and I’ll blame it on the alcohol but if it comes down to it I will always hang out with you above an outsider Evil. You’re my brother. Okada is not.” Sanada said glaring when Evil made kissy noises at hm.

“Keep it up and I’ll move your ass to the back of the list.” Sanada said grumpily pushing himself to his feet and getting dressed.

Evil chuckled and threw on his own clothes and grabbed another bottle of water as Sanada tossed a pile of bills on top of the check. Reaching into his wallet Evil added his own half and threw another water bottle to Sanada as the two exited the room, ready to call a cab and get back to their own beds, exhausted by the night’s adventures.

#evil fanfic #evil imagine #sanada fanfic #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #sanada imagine #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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spacioussmuthut · 5 years

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Desperate Little Loser (Fem!Reader/Flug NSFW)

here’s something I wrote really quick before the vivid idea passed through my head completely.

Reader wants to try some noncon roleplay with Flug, and it goes gloriously wrong.

------------

When you first asked Flug to do this with you, you had expected something loud and rough. When you got the opposite- nervous, guilty, everything in hushed whispers- you were pleased to find that you actually liked that more.

He had come into the room…

You were in the kitchen, waiting for Flug to make whatever entrance he had chosen. You were hyper-aware of everything and heard him breathe when he walked into the room. If you hadn’t have been looking out for him you would have never detected him.

He slid across the darkened linoleum of the floor noiselessly, like an animal zeroing in on prey. It was in an almost practiced way, how he snuck up behind you. Like every action was deliberate.

One arm wraps around to pin your hands to your chest while the other goes up and holds a knife to your neck. You immediately still, your breathing labored at the thrill of the knife so close.

He presses his body up against you, and then slowly lets go of your arms. Making sure you see the knife the entire time, he turns you around to face him. He’s so tall, and the way the moonlight falls on his back, turning him into a shadow, makes him look so much bigger. He angles his head down and you can see the way a glint passes over his goggles. His bag hides his face entirely; you suddenly can’t identify any signs of emotion on him.

“Be quiet.” Is all he says.

You nod.

“Take off your shirt.” He commands, his voice a whisper.

You take your shirt off.

“Now take off your pants.”

You take off your pants.

“T-take the rest of it off.”

The stutter momentarily breaks you out of the moment. He sounded so… desperate.

You look up to see he’s already got his dick out, and is rubbing it slowly, his eyes clearly focused entirely on you.

You unhook your bra and let it slide off your shoulders before gently grabbing the side of your panties and slowly sliding them down your hips. They get caught at your knees and you have to step the rest of the way out of them.

You are entirely naked, and a silence clung to the room for an uncomfortably long moment of time.

“Now s-suck my c-cock.” He mutters, completely breathless. He refuses to look you in the eye.

Fuck, it’s like he’s ashamed of what he’s doing to you. You hesitate to do as you’re told, and he visibly tenses up.

“I s-said suck!” he snaps.

You get down immediately, and quickly take his cock in your hands.

It’s so familiar, yet it feels new somehow, too. It’s Flugs’ cock. It’s just as heavy and hot as it usually is. There’s literally no difference to it than last night when the two of you had sex. But holding it now, you were so hot. It was like something forbidden, something that you’re taking wrongfully and enjoying every minute of.

It’s not until you wrap your lips around the head and he whimpers that you know why.

Flug fits the description of every desperate, skinny loser on the planet.

He’s tall but he hunches over, his limbs are long but lanky. His clothes are ill fitting because of his width. Normally you found these things endearing, but now-

He’s intelligent, but isn’t appreciated. The people around him make him miserable. He has a lot of anger and no outlet, but is filled with crippling fear.

Someone like that being so desperate to have sex that he manages to just barely overcome his anxiety to completely and totally subjugate you. How pathetic of a villain you’d have to be for someone like him to get the drop on you.

It makes you so wet.

You get to have that feeling, but it’s Flug, the man on this planet that is the least likely to hurt you in any way.

That makes it so much better when he fiddles with the knife in his hand.

You know that’s a way for him to wordlessly tell you to hurry up, and you obey the order. You slip as much of his cock in as you can, holding onto the base to keep both of you steady. You start out slow and go faster and deeper as the time ticks on. You don’t want to do anything too good that would embolden him.

No, he needed to stay ashamed for this to work.

“H-harder.”

You suck harder, and start bobbing a little faster as well. He’s letting out little cries, whimpers and moans. You swirl your tongue against his tip and he’s immediately coming, stifling a yelp as his hands fly to your head, pushing you down and impaling your face on his cock. It’s humiliating.

You feel him filling up your mouth and throat with his thick, hot cum, and suck it down eagerly.

When he lets go you look up at him. He looks dazed, almost like he’s never had an orgasm in his life. From the angle you’re at you can see straight up his bag, and you see that he’s chewing on his lower lip in desperation.

He steps back away from you, keeping the knife extended at you the entire time.

“Lay on, on th-the ground.”

You slowly lay on your back.

He crouches over you, staring deep into your eyes for a moment, before moving to straddle you. He makes a point of putting the knife down where he can grab it but you can’t.

“D-don’t try anything.” He says, gulping nervously.

He parts your legs and probes lightly at your cunt. He moans when one of his fingers pushes into your heat for a moment. Then he parts his fingers, threading his hand through your folds so he could twist his fingers and rub you everywhere at once in all directions. You gasp and moan a bit, it’s so pleasurable but somehow so invasive.

“Mmmph!”

He’s trying so hard to keep his desperate little noises in as he watches you writhe below him. You let an exceptionally loud groan pass your lips purposely to see how he reacts.

He tenses for a moment, then pushes forward, resuming his actions at a faster, harder pace.

Suddenly he pulls his sopping wet hand free of you.

When he starts to move in preparation of fucking you, you realize that he still has all his clothes on, as if he’s self-conscious about his body. As if he doesn’t want you to see him.

He lines himself up with a nervous shake and pushes in as hard as he can. You almost scream as his thick, hot cock penetrates the deepest parts of you.

“T-take it.” He groans, pistoning in and out of you so hard that his bag is shaking. “Y-you’re mine.”

Stuttering out such lewd words makes him sound so pathetic. Suddenly you’re yelling as your orgasm hits, clenching and spasming around his cock.

He lets out a whiney “Oh, fuck!” and starts thrusting harder. His hips snap against the flesh of your ass, and every noise and action he makes tells you that he’s pushing himself past his limit, trying not to come so he can fuck you longer.

But you’re so sensitive after all that that all you can do is continue to clench, and your vice of a cunt milks his cock clean in seconds. He keens, high and long as he comes inside you, thick and sticky.

He tries a few last lack-luster thrusts but his flaccid cock can’t take it anymore, and he slips out.

You cough.

“End scene.” You say, standing up and bracing yourself on the table.

Flug shoots up immediately.

“I-I’m so sorry! I messed everything up, didn’t I? I was going to burst in, but I didn’t want to fall. And I, I tried to boss you around but it felt so wrong! I’m so sorry I couldn’t be scary. And I came early twice. I kn-knew I couldn’t pull off yelling so I tried to be quiet, but I c-couldn’t stop moaning, you just feel so good! But- but now everything is ruined.” Flug holds his head in his hands. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do this for you.”

All of that, the magnificently humiliating feeling of being controlled and used by someone weak and desperate, it was all because your dork of a boyfriend is literally too nice to pretend to yell at you.

“Flug,” you say, waiting for him to look you in the eyes before finishing. “The next time we do this I don’t want you to change a single thing.”

He looks so utterly confused.

You’ll explain it to him later, right now you need a shower.

#Villainous #villainsfw #Dr. Flug #Flug #fanfiction #reader insert

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shoujax · 5 years

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You can survive, you can endure

The following is not a happy tale.It is not written with the intent to garner pity, sympathy or retaliation for the parties involved. This is a story about child abuse both the psychological and physical variety. This is not a story of revenge, malice or spite. I do not forgive the parties involved, but I bear no ill will. There is love to be sure, as you always love your family, regardless of how mad or crazy they may drive you. I forgive many things in my life. But I will never forgive the overlook, ignorance and at times allowance of my abuse and in later years the callous disregard when I finally began to voice what happened.

This is a story of healing; acceptance, coping and even enduring . I am a survivor of physical and psychological abuse, and to some that statement may seem or come off strong. But that is the phrase I will use: Despite everything, I survived, endured and am healing. There is zero doubt in my mind when my family learns of this they will refute or attempt to explain this in their own way. This is not about them. For the first genuine time in my life, this is about my healing. Not them. They had their chances countless years, and failed me. My siblings, if they remember, probably never will admit these things happened.

So, here I am. 33 years old finally telling a story that should not have needed to be told. There were so many things that could have been done to stop this story from ever needing to be told. But as I said, in order to fully heal I tell this story as it is: true and direct. I must stress under no circumstances must my mother be considered the villain. She DID raise 3 children through 2 very difficult marriages and endured abuse that is never my place to speak of. But she did enable horrible abuse from the age of 8 to 16: the psychological horrors of my father notwithstanding. That I do not forgive because he never has felt remorse or allowed me to talk about it in depth.The reading subject from here on will be graphic. The end of this tale will I hope shed some light and show my true goal for telling this tale.

The earliest memory I have is Kieth, my biological father and my mother again getting into a screaming and physical fight. My mother had a trailer on my grandparents property because that monster was an abusive, horrible person and my grandfather was truly the one person who scared him more than anything.I would have been about 3-4 at the time. I was smart enough to know something very bad was happening and didn't hesitate, i ran crying to my grandparents house on top of the hill, scared to death I wouldn’t make it in time to get help, but I did. He never could hold down a job.

The next few years saw us move from apartment to apartment to just hide. By this point my brother and sister had been born. When I got old enough to understand better, I found out he violated restraining orders left and right but they never did catch or hold him for very long. There nights I remember consoling my baby sister and little brother trying to keep the noise out because he would find us again. Screaming and banging on the doors and windows for hours. Police would come, he’d flee before they got there. This cycle would repeat more than I ever cared to admit.

The greatest shock of my life was the age of 4-5 was I’m not sure if he did it out of love or fear, but Kieth saved my life: albeit he caused what happened next to occur. They fought yet again and i left with him to go to a nearby gas station for...I’m not even sure what to be honest. He got angry again as we were heading back to the car and he opened the door..and i knew nothing but pain. Somehow he had opened it hard and fast enough that he had busted my head open. He took me to the hospital and the one thing I know I remembered was him holding a towel on the wound as i lay in the front seat. There was a look of worry. I will never know if it was for me or if he was scared for himself. I would like to think there might have been SOMETHING akin to a shred of honesty. I don’t know. I never will.

I had to of been about 6 or so when finally my mother left us with our grandparents and she fled to hide in california.I didnt know at the time, and I dont know what she told my grandparents, but she later admitted to me in my late 20’s Kieth tried to sell me off to a child sex ring for money. She knew her children were in severe danger, and my grandfather was the one person on earth he was scared of. My life was calm….until she returned with her new husband when i was 7-8. His name was Tom. And Tom would begin the longest streak of abuse no child should ever have to endure.

There was shouting here and there but normal family things. The first true horror began in 3rd grade. I was in the bathroom with my brother brushing our teeth and I don’t know what conversation led him to coming in and getting angry to be honest. Maybe I said something, I don’t know, but whatever it was did not justify what happened next. I was spun around, grabbed by my upper arms, lifted and put firmly against the wall. He had this look of a very angry animal on him...it wouldn't be the first time I ever see “The look” Anger, fury and rage filled him. He told me to knock my shit off and hurry up or i was gonna make everyone late for school. I was...shocked. I didn't tell my mother. But I did tell a teacher. I thought surely it’s gonna help. How utterly wrong and stupid I was. I was picked up and told not to say a word. We went straight to my grandparents house. I couldn't comprehend why I was in trouble until my family rounded on me. How dare I make up a story to hurt him. This was a man who loved you as his own and this is how you repay him? My family was very authoritarian so arguing back or talking in defense was completely shunned. I knew if I said anything it would get it worse. So I sat there dumbfounded and in silence. For the next hour I was berated, talked down to and said what a bad child I had been. And finally the words that burned into my brain. “His heart is like a sheet of paper. You took it and bundled it up and crumpled it. It’ll smooth out as he heals, but there will always be wrinkles.” We went home afterwards and when my mother left, he took a belt and beat me. Spanking me hard, and how dare I embarrassed him like that and if I told anyone about this punishment it would be worse. Small things happened here and there but nothing noteworthy until we moved to south carolina and ohio. The spankings got progressively worse to the point I had bruises and learned to accept the pain.

Ohio I dont remember much except for one incident. It was the day I had a school play. He gave me a black eye for I dont even know what reason. My mother put makeup on it to cover it up and told me not to say anything. I never did until now. That was the first time I never spoke out when I should have...maybe I could have stopped it before things got much worse. I was a fool. We moved into a trailer in a new area and my brother and I had to help him make a driveway and clear the land because they had no spare money. A barely teenader working like an adult. I let that go but not what happened next. The spankings kept getting worse, but I guess he thought he’d do worse. He didnt like how thin i had helped make the limestone roadway and told me so. I must have said something to voice how miserable I was. He grabbed a shovel and with the flat side hit me on one side near my chest. The pain was unbearable. I was knocked on my back and while i was down he stomped the other side of my chest. Kneeling down he got as close as he could while I was frozen scared and hurt. He said I made him miserable and I deserved this as I needed to be more of a man. If I told anyone, Hed do worse.I never did and hid the pain well. To this day, my ribs ache if touched wrong. Somehow I held onto hope that maybe finally if my mother saw me miserable and he didn't notice I could stop this pain from ever happening again. Weeks passed and she worked long days while yet again he could never really find solid long term work. I had no chances to do so, and I was growing depressed but never showed it. Finally he hit me as hard as he could in the back of the head when I turned away from him. I made it to my bedroom and laid down. Crying. And at last my mother returned and she must have heard me and walked into my room and said “Josh What’s wrong?” I looked at her almost beggingly and said” My head hurts.” I didnt elaborate. She got angry because she had worked a very long shift and told me if i had a headache go get some medicine out of the cabinet and deal with it. As she left I finally stopped crying staring as an acceptance grew in me. She was NEVER going to help me. She was never going to listen unless she saw it herself. That’s when I realized I could never trust her to tell her any of the bad things that were happening. I suffered in silence for another year. During that time more beatings, more hopelessness and in general a life of what i felt was true genuine fear and hopelessness. I had no clue what was going to happen next. It would get worse.

The older I get, like some, the harder it is to pinpoint exact dates but the tragedy of these next two incidents occurred during my fourth and fifth grade years While seemingly unimportant to some these two singular events will stay with me forever. To set up the story, my brother had messed up our closet door, naturally we shared a room and all the joy of privacy i got. I was desperately trying to fix it because I didn't want HIM to hear. I had finally succeeded and was about to collapse with joy...until my idiot brother pushed it back inwards and laughed and i let out a yell….HE heard because of course he did. He came in, didn't ask for an explanation, saw what happened and hit me. Then proceeded to stomp and destroy a cherished toy that was my world. Now everyone needs to understand, i was a very introverted child. I didn't make friends easily and had few. I loved to play by myself and had wonderful fantastic imaginary adventures. His reasoning for doing this act was simplistic in his words “You wreck my stuff I wreck yours.” I didn't realize the nightmare wasn’t over yet.

My mother picked us up from school two days later and genuinely looked upset. She explained he burned everything. I got there and went out back and sure enough, the charred remains of a large bonfire were still smoking. He went after all my stuff first. My brother barely had anything touched and my sister, thankfully, was spared the majority. Of course my mother as always did nothing but say she was sorry it happened.

Thanks mom. I can always count on you to make me feel better. A shame you chose misery over your child. As always.

The second event was the court ordeal. Long story short because this one wasn't so traumatic as it was, what I believe, caused a wedge between myself and my brother because we were forced to change schools.They spanked me at school and my mother was outraged. I believe solely because she believed punishment should be handled at home, which I find insanely hypocritical at this point. The paddle they used stung yes, but it did not hurt as much as what step-douche did to me on a weekly basis. I wish she cared enough to go to war with him as she did when she took the school to court and sued. We had to switch schools but honestly.the true problem was what happened before.

See the punishment for what i did ASIDE from that was a day of suspension or sit in a small closet like room all day. No supervision and total isolation. My mother, of course, was not there when we spoke to the principal…step-douche was.He flat out told me if I picked suspension I would regret it. Happy birthday to me, cause thats right, my punishment was carried out on my birthday. Total isolation. And once again no one helped me. Honestly how I never acted out is baffling to me.

That night when I got home and everyone was asleep, i got out of bed around midnight and went to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find. I sat down and rocked and i wanted more than anything to end the life of the person who was causing me pain and inflicting hell on me. I’m not sure why, to this day, I never acted. Eventually about 4 am after sitting there and reflecting I went back to bed. Im not sure why I didnt. I’m glad it passed but I will never know what stopped me that night.

All of this before I was 12 years old and it still wasnt over yet. 6th grade we finally moved back to Florida. Nothing really changed. Except now we enter middle school…

I wish aspergers had been more readily diagnosed and doctors didn't just slap an ADHD label on everything. I was teased, bullied and picked on. I had no sense of humor and couldn't understand things like sarcasm or jokes. Life at home was hard...life at school was hard. My family never listened to anything if it disrupted the status quo. I felt genuinely alone and isolated. Now this wouldn't be a happy story unless I added in a life altering event that actually changed things. It was ironically during a shop class and once again I was being bullied, but for the absolute first time...I retaliated. A detention and oddly...the guy and I actually became friends...I didn't know it at the time. But between being hurt by others and the punishments at home for the weirdest infractions...i came dangerously close to considering suicide. In fact the day this next event happened I had already started planning how I wanted to end it all. The kid who bullied me in shop came up and struck up a conversation about Pokemon and we to this day share a friendship. I told him last year finally, he’s the reason I'm still here. If he had not come up and given me that one act of kindness I wouldn't be here.

I was still bullied all through 10th grade but had friends here and there.It made it tolerable. Junior year is where I hit my lowest and to this day my family does not know what happened.

3 football players ganged up and raped me in a locker room after school. This had nothing to do with my sexuality because at the time I hadn't given it any thought yet. Because my mother always said, “Don't ever do anything to embarrass your grandparents” ad religiously restated this, I decided to be quiet on the whole thing. The sole saving grace being i wasn't too traumatized by this experience as a whole. I did not consent this is true, but it was at the time I was beginning to think about it and maybe that’s why they did what they did. I thought I could trust one of them, and told them, apparently I was mistaken.

There are other things of course, the usual stuff teenagers go through, but the final absolute straw that broke the camel's back was I refused to feed animals my brother and sister wanted. I finally after 17 years told my mother no. I wasn't caring for animals that they should be taking care of and I was tired of everyone else shoving responsibility on me. They had some stupid sporting events after school they were doing. And I was finally sick of it. Its shocking on one level that something so ridiculously mundane as pet care made me finally snap. We argued and I moved out. I couldnt take it anymore. My grandparents, finally, took me in.

Now some of you are probably wondering: why I would I write this down? Is it pity? No I don't want pity. Im now 33 and I have a wonderful, if not always easy, Life I wouldn't trade for anything. There are some updates. The 3 who assaulted me in high school I have forgiven. One is dead and if there is justice he got what he deserved. Another apologized and he actually meant it. He begged for forgiveness and has done good with his life. I bear him no ill will. We all do stupid things, but if we actually are repentant and try to do good, i can honestly forgive. The last has a wife and kids so I won't ruin their life because of my pain and he knows that. He's never apologized but he does worry occasionally if I'm ever going to spill the beans. I have but I haven't named him.

As for my family....Im not sure if I can heal right. They dont want to listen to me. “You’re 33 years old, Grow up and get over it.” “Stop causing drama” “It happened so long ago, what do you want us to do about it?” That last one actually DOES stick with me. I think at the core I want some compassion. I want them to feel bad. My mother isnt an evil woman, there were many good times, but they are completely overshadowed and eclipsed by so much negativity, I cant say she was a good mother. She has never once listened to me and if she reads this I’m going to tell her the same thing I finally worked up the courage to tell my grandmother: “This is not about you. This is about me trying to heal, trying after decades to heal so I CAN move on. For the first time in my life this is entirely about me.” My family remains to this day the greatest source of my stress because they genuinely believe, because they refuse to listen to me and not dismiss what I say, they loved me and supported me financially growing up. You may have, but you failed at making sure your child and grandchild was happy. That I was safe and felt loved and supported. You failed as my guardians and maybe that’s why I’m still trying to heal because you all will never thing you did wrong.

So we come full circle. When I started writing this I borderline thought it would be longer. But it’s ok, it was hard getting through just to this 8th page. And there are other things I can't talk about and probably will never be able to go into because I don't want to deal with being ridiculed and teased as an adult about some aspects. I’ve come to terms with those issues and people who matter know about hidden parts of me.

This wasn't intended to shame, although there is a sliver that hopes maybe if they read this they will feel something, this is about sharing a story. I’m not the only one out there to have a bad childhood. Many do, but it takes courage to talk about it. That’s the point of all of this. Talk to someone. It may take years, but seize the courage and get it out. Dont let it sit there because you have to “tough it out.” That's a bullshit answer older generations have said because they don't want to deal with issues like mental health. And yes it is hard to finish writing this as I just told a friend while I write. But before I finish I have some people who deserve to be named specifically for making my life better. And they deserve to be known by name because of the profound impact they have had. This is only people from my childhood.

Fred Eirman. You saved my life in middle school and I have never forgotten it.

David Coburn. My uncle. You were the only one who listened at times. And indulged my likes and hobbies.

Harry Webber. My second cousin. The only person in my family who cared enough when I was at my lowest points to be there for me. While the rest of my family hated you for stupid, pointless reasons.

This isn't a story seeking pity. This is a story that I want to say the following words if it affected you and you also had similar experiences of abuse. I offer the following words and please take them to heart:

You can survive. You can Endure. You can recover.

Reblog and share and even comment. Get this around so MAYBE it can help someone.

#childhoodabuse #healing

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delkios · 5 years

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Harder to Breathe (ToV)

Look, I just have Thoughts about that hit Flynn took for Yuri and the lack of explicit let's-tell-you're-best-friend-you're-not-dead that followed.

Title: Harder to Breathe Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Rating: PG Word Count: 2344 Characters: Flynn, Yuri, Estelle, additional appearances by Rita, Sodia and others Summary: Obligatory post-Zaude fic. It's difficult knowing someone so strong can still be so vulnerable.

The sharp clash of blade on blade filtered through the pain, Flynn clutched at his chest reflexively. It felt raw and when his blastia shifted where Alexei's attack had hit, it left him gasping.

"Sir," Sodia said, her hands on his back, "please don't move!"

"Have to," he was having trouble getting his breath back, "Yuri..." Flynn coughed raggedly. Then coughed harder because he couldn't seem to get enough air. His head was swimming but he could see his sword laying on the ground and, beyond it, Yuri and Alexei fighting. Flynn rolled away from Sodia, arms shaking as he crawled forward.

"Captain, please!" She grabbed at him again, pinning him down. "Lady Estellise!"

"I'm here! Flynn, where did you get-" Estelle placed herself firmly between Flynn and the fight and gasped. "Flynn! Your lips are turning blue!"

"I... I can't..." he tried to pull away again, tried to look around Estelle to see what was happening. He closed his eyes as the warmth of Estelle's healing arte washed over him. He felt marginally better but when he tried to push upright, Flynn collapsed.

"What happened?" Sodia asked, her voice beginning to pitch into panic as Flynn started gasping again. "Did it not work?"

"I don't- it should have!" Estelle tried again. Flynn curled over, fingers digging into his chest around his blastia. "Flynn!"

"Look out!" Judith braced herself over Estelle's back, curling over the younger woman as Sodia reflexively shielded her captain. Beyond them, the apatheia crashed into the platform with a thunderous crack, debris thrown everywhere and it took a moment for the tremors and echoing noise to die down.

When Judith moved back, Estelle's focus zeroed back onto Flynn, sweat beading on his face. She cried desperately, "Flynn, what's wrong? What hurts?"

A hand rolled Flynn onto his back. "Avert your eyes, ladies," Raven said, shouldering into the group, his tone serious despite the lightness of his words. His hands went for Flynn's belt, undoing it with a flick and fingers making quick work of the clasps on Flynn's tabard. Raven tugged the black shirt where it was tucked into Flynn's waist band, slid his dagger underneath, blade-edge up, and said, "Schwann'll pay for it," before sawing through the material.

When Raven moved back, leaving Flynn bare chested, Estelle's hands flew to her face. "Oh, Flynn!" A blister, about palm-sized, lay angry red and bubbled sickly yellow in a starburst shape against his chest. She reached out to him again, hands hesitating because her healing hadn't done much to help him at all.

"This..." Sodia said so softly. "I've never seen a wound like that before..."

"It's a second degree aer burn," Rita said suddenly. "I," she flexed her hand, like she was stopping it from moving, "I'm familiar with it. That hit he took for Yuri must've been a compressed aer blast."

"What do we do?" Estelle asked, looking up at the mage. "How do I fix it?" There were tears in her eyes, hands hovering, wanting to do something but afraid to do more damage.

Sodia moved aside as Rita knelt down by Flynn, examining the wound. Her eyes were intense but unfocused, thoughts moving at lightspeed in her head. "It's that blastia of his," she said. "All blastia has an inscription that draws aer to it automatically to power the core. For bodhi blastia, it's usually a small amount that won't cause harm to the person using it. When that attack hit his blastia, it must have automatically collected the concentrated aer."

"Are you saying he's suffering from aer sickness?" Estelle ask but Rita shook her head.

"If it was just aer sickness, it'd either be effecting all of us or it would have dissipated by now." Rita's fingers clenched on her crossed arms were going white. "I think the aer is trapped in his chest cavity."

"Then... what do I do?"

"Try," Rita said, unusually hesitant, "try to draw on the aer that's inside of him."

"I... I never tried to draw aer from a specific location before." She looked down at Flynn's face, paler than she'd ever seen, eyes swimming, barely conscious. Estelle placed her hands over his chest, just hovering above the blister, and closed her eyes. "Please," she begged no one, her palms glowing and small motes of light rising from Flynn's chest. "Please. I don't want to lose anyone else."

Estelle's brow knitted as she converted the aer into her arte, healing those around her because she was wary of directing it back into Flynn. It took but a few moments, agonizingly stretched for eternity, before his breathing evened out, the blue fading from his skin and the strain eased off his face. Flynn managed to take his first deep breath without coughing and opened his eyes, only then was Estelle comfortable using another healing arte on him. Flynn tilted his head to where the apatheia had fallen. "Yuri?" He asked, voice still feeble but stronger than it had been.

"From what I can tell," Judith called from where she was examining the patch of red leaking out through the cracks in the platform, "the former Commandant is the only one under here."

Karol let out a breath, sitting heavily on his haunches. "Thank goodness."

Flynn wasn't so mollified, trying to push himself upright. "Then where-"

"No." Estelled pushed on his shoulders, forcing him back down. "You need to rest, Flynn."

"But Yuri-"

"I-I don't see him." It took a moment to find Sodia on the edge of the group. Estelle hadn't even notice she left. "I think... he fell." Sodia was pale, fidgeting, looking utterly lost and Estelle would've felt sympathy for her- seeing Flynn like this and unable to help him couldn't be easy on her, it certainly wasn't for Estelle -but she had more important things to worry about because Flynn was trying to get up again.

"Stop it!"

"No," though his color had returned, Flynn's arms were still trembling. "I have to... find-

"You can't even get away from me," Estelle said sternly, putting more weight down on Flynn's shoulders. "You're in no shape to go anywhere!"

He struggled for a moment still but was unable to do anything more without risk of hurting Estelle or himself further. With a shaky sigh, he went limp. "Sodia," he craned his head to look up at his lieutenant, desperation and determination shining through the pain in his eyes. "Please. Find Yuri. He's my family."

She seemed to go even paler, eyes dropping away and body as tight as a string about the snap. "...yessir." Repede bounded off to the other end of the platform, nose to the ground and the others followed after to help in the search, leaving Estelle to watch over Flynn on her own.

"If he really did fall," Flynn's voice was quiet, not really speaking to anyone, "I'll find him. I'll go after him myself. I can't lose him."

"He'll be fine," Estelle said, running her hand through Flynn's hair. Even with Flynn next to her, even with all her friends- all but one -within eyesight, Estelle felt terrifyingly small and alone. "He'll be fine."

~*~*~*~

Yuri was glad Estelle suggested waiting until morning to regather the group. Even though he'd just woken up, he was still exhausted and sore- Estelle may have healed the lingering damage of his wound but there wasn't much she could do about the strain already on his body from trying to heal naturally. On top of that, he was going to have to get some new gear, what with Duke taking back his sword and sea salt having sat in his armor and clothes for a week. He didn't have the time or patience to try and clean it out, best to just get it all replaced. That wasn't even getting into how long it would take to scrub the salt scent from his skin and his hair would take forever to get back to normal.

Though considering the alternative would be some strange guy thinking he had free reign over Yuri's unconscious body for a week, he was grateful for Duke's prudency for just sticking to the wound.

Estelle turned to head back to the palace before stopping. "Oh, do you want to write to Flynn and let him know you're alright? I don't know where he is, but the knights will get it to him."

"Nah, that's alright." Yuri stood and stretched. His side still twinged a little and he'd bet there'd be a scar there when he'd removed Duke's bandage, but it was much better than it had been before.

"Alright. I can write something, then."

"You don't have to."

She looked confused. "Someone should."

"He's got more important things to worry about."

Estelle turned to him fully, her expression tight. "I think it's too late for that."

"C'mon, Estelle," he tried not to think about her words earlier, about Flynn sending out ships to scour the damn ocean for him, "give him a little more credit."

"I saw how much your disappearance effected him."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"Why are you downplaying this?" Estelle's expression tightened further and Yuri was surprised at the anger on her face. "He took a concentrated aer blast to the chest, Yuri! If Rita wasn't there to help me figure out the problem, his lungs might've collapsed! It missed his heart by inches and he was still willing to dive off Zaude to find you!"

"Look," Yuri said between tight molars, uncomfortable with Estelle's words, "just say what you want to say."

Hands fisted down at her side, Estelle snapped out, "Flynn isn't as strong as you think he is!"

He couldn't help the incredulous look he shot Estelle because that was ridiculous. Flynn had always been the strong one. Asides from the occasional lows of their relationship, he'd always been Yuri's rock, anchor, guiding point- whatever. "He's the most determined, single-minded guy I know." And Yuri was including himself.

Estelle's expression softened, eyes darkening with emotion and voice wavering. "You didn't see him, Yuri. He took command of the knights and he did his job as well as we expected him to but... that was it. It was like he was hollow inside. He was helpless. All he could do was have ships out looking for you and because he couldn't be there himself, all he could do was wait. So he just kept working because if he stopped he'd remember that you weren't there. There was only so much I or Ioder could do for him." Estelle took a deep breath, willing away the tears Yuri could see welling in her eyes. "Flynn needs you the same way you need him."

That... that scared him almost as much as seeing what Flynn was on the verge of becoming in Nordopolica. "I didn't ask him to do all that for me," he said, a little sharper than he meant, but annoyance was a far more welcome emotion than fear.

"You didn't have to, he's your friend!"

"He has better things to spend his energy on than me. The Adephagos, the problems Alexei caused, the damage done to Zaphias- on a list of priorities, I shouldn't even be at the bottom of it!"

"Why do you keep saying things like that?"

"Because personal isn't the same as important!"

Yuri's voice range out for a moment in the empty street. He turned away from Estelle's stunned expression in order to get himself back under control. "We have a dream," he said eventually. "Flynn's in a much better position to achieve it than I am, but he can't do it if he keeps wasting time on me."

"Why can't it both?" Estelle moved over to Yuri, standing in front of him again. "Why can't personal be the same as important sometimes?" Her eyes were hard and jaw firm. "I told you: Flynn needs you the same way you need him. You give him strength, you guide him when he loses his way, you remind him of the promise you two made and motivates him to keep going even when the world keeps trying to beat him back." She took Yuri's hand in both of hers. "No matter what else you might think, you're important to Flynn. And you're important to me, and Rita and Karol and the others. None of us are going to give up on you. Like you wouldn't give up on us."

"Yeah." Yuri turned his hand over so he could squeeze Estelle's before pulling away. "Doesn't make it okay for him to go jumping in front of attacks for me."

"Maybe if you wore armor like he does, he wouldn't have done it," Estelle said a little sourly.

"I know." Yuri shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said in an even and genuine tone.

Estelle bit her lip. "Me, too. I didn't mean to make it sound like I was blaming you."

"Nah, I get it. When someone you care about is hurting and there's nothing you can do to help them, it's only natural that you get angry." Yuri hated being the one to cause his friends pain, especially when it was Flynn. He gave her a small smile, hoping his self-depreciation wasn't showing through. "I'm glad you were there for him."

Estelle smiled back softly.Silence stretched between them, not quite awkward but not exactly comfortable, before Estelle asked quietly, "Do you still not want me to write to him?"

Yuri sighed, looking down at Repede who looked right back up at him as if he thought Yuri was being ridiculous. He probably was. Everything was probably so much simpler to a dog. "Nah, go ahead. Wouldn't know what to write besides 'Not dead yet' and you know he'll just nag at me about it next time we see him."

Estelle giggled. "He would. I suppose I should do it to save you from being lectured."

This time Yuri's smile was genuine, saying all the things he couldn't say. "Thanks, Estelle."

#fic 2019 #tales of vesperia #flynn scifo #yuri lowell #estellise sidos heurassein

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bevioletskies · 5 years

Note

Prompt: For their wedding anniversary, Peter was about to buy Gamora this beautiful necklace that he has been wanting to get her when, while checking to see how much units he had, he gets a holo-credit report that someone spent his 300,000 units on video games. He knew that it was Groot who stole all of his units to buy those "mind-numbing" games, so, he decides to ground the teenager.

I made a few changes to fit my headcanons (re: amount of units and the type of gift), I hope that’s alright! Takes place in some arbitrary point in time, post-Avengers 4.ao3 | word count: 2.9k

Peter whistled cheerfully to himself as he entered the cockpit of the Benatar and settled into his seat, not intending to direct the ship anywhere, but rather, to use the onboard computer in private. And no, he wasn’t doing anything particularly suspicious - he wanted to buy a gift for Gamora.

In just a little over a week, it would be one year to the day that they got married, and he was determined to win the online auction he’d had his eye on since about a month ago to celebrate. Marriage had never really been that important for either of them, with Gamora especially insisting that they didn’t need a piece of paper to validate their relationship, but a few hospital incidents later, she was changing her tune. Sure, it wasn’t the most romantic reason in the world, but it didn’t need to be. Now they could visit each other in the emergency room, declare their marital status on those awfully tedious forms the Nova Corps had them fill out whenever insurance became an issue, and…well, and call each other husband and wife. It didn’t really come up in conversation all that much.

“I got you now,” Peter whispered gleefully, tapping on the screen to bring up his hidden browser tab. The photo he’d stared at for hours on end popped up, boasting a pair of impressive silver daggers. They were expensive, that was for sure, but they were in the green right now after their last job had resulted in a very generous tip. He could afford to spend a little on more than just food and ammunition.

The clock ticked down in the sidebar, and Peter’s heart sped up a little faster in anticipation. Come on, come on…another few minutes passed before it came down to mere seconds. He refreshed frantically, silently praying he wouldn’t be outbid and -

“YES!” Peter immediately shrunk in his seat, hoping he hadn’t accidentally gotten someone else’s attention. He quickly proceeded to click through to the payment page, humming victoriously as he typed in his information. Then, a pop-up appeared - payment declined. “What? That can’t be right.” Tap tap tap. Payment declined. “Oh, what the hell…”

He made a quick jump over to his bank account page, scrolling, wondering if he’d added or removed an extra zero somewhere he shouldn’t have; he was still getting the hang of balancing the books after Gamora insisted he learn how. It was only when Peter went to the transactions list that it became very clear who the real culprit was.

“GROOT!”

______

“I am Groot,” Groot said petulantly.

“I don’t care, buddy. You spent thirty-thousand units in five days!” Peter exploded, throwing his hands up in the air. “How the hell did that happen?!”

“I am Groot.”

“Of course it was microtransactions.” Peter groaned into his hands, sinking down into the seat opposite him at the communal table. “You have no idea how much trouble you’re in, dude. You think I’m mad now, wait ‘til I tell Gamora.”

“I am Groot!” Groot pleaded, suddenly sitting up in his chair. “I am Groot…”

It was then that Gamora entered the room, in search of an afternoon snack after her workout. She paused at the sight of Peter and Groot at the table. “What’s going on?”

“Groot spent a crapload of money on video games this week,” Peter said, his voice unusually bitter.

Gamora took a hesitant step closer, eyeing Groot suspiciously. “How much?”

“My card got declined.”

Her breath hitched; she immediately rounded on Groot. “What were you thinking?” she exclaimed. “We did not let you have access to the team account so you could spend it all!”

Groot shrunk even further into himself. “I am Groot,” he mumbled.

“We trusted you to use it for emergencies only. This was not an emergency,” Gamora snapped, pounding her fist against the table. “What are we going to do with you?”

“We ground him,” Peter said, narrowing his eyes. “Take away his tablet, no screens for a month. And he has to stay in his room when we’re not on jobs, no hanging out with Rocket or Mantis. You got that, kid?”

Groot nodded slowly, looking at Gamora with big, liquid eyes. “I am Groot?”

She straightened up. “I’ve never been so disappointed in you,” she said coolly, promptly turning on her heel and disappearing into the kitchen. Groot sighed, staring down at his hands despondently while Peter snatched his tablet away.

“Thought you woulda known better,” Peter said under his breath. “You know money ain’t a toy. I was gonna buy Gamora somethin’ real nice for our anniversary, and now? I don’t even think we can afford enough fuel to get to our next mission.”

Groot got up with a heaviness in his heart, slowly trudging to his bunk and refusing to look back. He knew he wouldn’t like what he would see.______

Upon telling the others what had happened, Drax was angered, Mantis was disappointed, Nebula couldn’t bring herself to care, and Rocket stalked off with the intention to yell at Groot, only for Gamora to call him back. “Hey! I know we’re all feeling anxious about the consequences of his actions - ”

“I’m not,” Nebula drawled, kicking her feet up on the table.

“ - but I think Groot already knows what he’s done. No need to rub it in his face.” Gamora briefly glared at her sister before pulling down one of the screens. “We just need to do some emergency budgeting and put a temporary plan in place. Another few jobs, and we’ll be back on our feet. Peter?”

“You’re right,” he said, moving to stand by her side. “Alright, Guardians, huddle up. Gotta make some sacrifices this month. That means no more space candy, Mantis.”

After a healthy round of arguing, as expected, they moved onto dinner and agreed to reconvene tomorrow once they had all cooled off from their heated words. Gamora glanced over at the plate full of food, still sitting on the counter. “Someone has to take that to Groot.”

“Prob’ly should be you,” Peter said quietly, glancing around the common area. The others had settled in for the evening in their usual places - Rocket, on the floor, tinkering with half a dozen different weapons and humming along with the Zune, though he’d deny it if asked. Nebula, sat close by but not too close, flipping a knife and staring at the wall, pretending she wasn’t watching Drax and Mantis by the big projection screen, playing one of Peter’s old video games (Drax was losing quite terribly). “You know he hates disappointin’ you the most.”

With a reluctant sigh, Gamora patted Peter’s arm in agreement and picked up the plate, making her way down the narrow corridor to the back of the ship where their bunks were. She knocked on Groot’s door. “It’s Gamora. I brought you dinner.”

“I am Groot.”

“Food isn’t optional,” she retorted, rattling the doorknob. “Let me in, Groot.”

“I am Groot.”

“Then you leave me no choice.” With a swift kick, Groot’s door flew inwards, banging against the wall. Groot was sat on his bed, looking at her, aghast. “Let’s try this again. Groot, I brought you dinner.” She slammed the plate down on his bedside table.

He huffed, turning away from her with his arms folded across his chest. Gamora hesitated, wondering whether to turn and walk straight out of there. Instead, she moved to shut the door and sat across from him. “I am Groot,” he instantly protested.

“No, we’re going to talk about this. Eat.” She held the plate out to him expectantly. He stared at it for a split second before snatching it out of her hands, shoveling food into his mouth like it had been days since he’d last eaten. “Groot, I know you didn’t mean to hurt us when you spent all that money. I just wish you had thought about whether you would.”

“I am Groot,” he said despondently.

“It’s okay that you made a mistake. We’ve all made plenty of mistakes, and this was hardly a noteworthy transgression, all things considered,” she chuckled dryly. “But if you don’t learn from them, then what’s the point? Why continue to perpetuate bad behaviors and consequences instead of letting them teach you the difference between right and wrong?”

“I am Groot.” He looked at her curiously.

“No, I’m…I’m not trying to equate your spending habits with what I did when…when I was with him.” Gamora swallowed. “But…you’re young and impressionable, like I was. There’s still room for you to learn. We’ve raised you from when you were just a twig in a pot. I’d like to think we’ve done it right. And that you’ll know better next time.”

“I am Groot,” he exclaimed, moving closer so they were sitting side-by-side. He clasped his hand over hers worriedly.

“Thank you, Groot.” She turned her hand over so she could intertwine her fingers with his, albeit a little awkwardly given his hand was considerably larger (and rougher). “Tell me you’ll help us fix this.”

“I am Groot,” he promised, squeezing her hand. His eyes were wide, shining with sincerity, the kind of expression that had been so common when he was a child, and so rare now. She smiled in return, holding his gaze for a moment until she remembered something else she hadn’t asked about just yet.

“By the way, do you know what Peter was trying to buy? It must have been pretty expensive if his card got declined,” Gamora commented.

“I…am Groot.” He looked at her sheepishly.

“Oh,” she groaned, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling like it’d personally wronged her. “If you’ll excuse me, Groot…I think I have some words for Peter, too.”______

Peter was reading in bed when the door slammed open. He jumped, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling. “Whoa - Gamora, what’s going on - ”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to buy my affections?” She shut the door behind her just as aggressively, rattling the entire bunk while she rustled through their tiny wardrobe for her sleepclothes. Peter could only watch confusedly as she began to get changed, wondering whether he would be in more trouble if he looked at her or didn’t look at her. “The occasional flower or thrifted trinket is appreciated, Peter, but to buy something expensive for our anniversary - ”

“Oh, Groot told you, didn’t he?” Peter sank further into the pillows, shutting his book with a snap. “Dammit. Kid can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“Peter,” Gamora said pointedly. Now fully changed, she sat on the foot of their bed, eyes narrowed at him. “I thought you learned your lesson the first time. We’d been dating for six months, and you decided the best course of action was to take me to a fancy restaurant on Kymellia.”

“It wasn’t that expensive - ”

“There were no prices on the menu!” she exclaimed. She shifted closer to rest her hand on his knee, her dark eyes compelling him to listen. “Your intentions were honest, Peter, it’s one of my favorite things about you. But there is no need to spoil me with things. There is little I’m more confident about than knowing exactly how we feel about each other, and that’s not something I ever thought possible in my lifetime.”

Sighing, he reached out to bring her into his arms, guiding her so her back was pressed against his chest, their legs tangled and stretched out across the length of the bed. “I know, I know. But I gotta say, I thought you would really like this one. It was a pair of daggers…I know they don’t sound like much, but…they had Zehoberian jewels in ‘em.”

She sat up, turning to face him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, taking her chin in his hands. “I got trackers on all the auction sites for Zehoberian stuff. Figured you’d want a little bit of home every now and then.”

“Oh, Peter…” She ducked her head to allow him to kiss her forehead, his hand sliding down to cup the back of her neck. “Thank you. They sound really lovely.”

“They were. Sucks that I can’t give them to you after all.” He leaned back, shooting her a rueful smile. “So I guess…happy early anniversary, Gamora. Maybe I’ll make you Terran chocolate pie instead.”

Her eyes instantly lit up, though he suspected it was more an indication of her sweet tooth than anything else. “How about you teach me how to make it this time?”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her. “Sounds like a plan.” She responded with a noise of contentment, deepening the kiss, before pulling him down into the sheets.______

The next few days were considerably better; though their money was tight, the Guardians were quick to forgive Groot once he properly apologized to them all. Peter even commended Groot for his humility - “but dude, don’t tell Gamora stuff I only meant to tell you, okay?” - and all was well.

Then Groot tentatively approached Peter and Gamora one morning while they were discussing the travel route for their next job, twisting his fingers anxiously together. “I am Groot?” he requested shyly.

Gamora looked up from the map. “What is it?”

“I am Groot.” He held out his tablet with a guilty smile. Peter and Gamora exchanged incredulous looks that Groot was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

Peter took the tablet, the scowl on his face returning. “I thought we took away your devices.”

“I am Groot,” he admitted. “I…am Groot.”

Gamora leaned in curiously to navigate through Groot’s tablet as instructed, scrolling past all the random applications he had to the page where he kept all his games and…nothing. There was absolutely nothing there, other than a port of Defender that Rocket and Peter had built and coded themselves for Groot’s birthday. “What did you do, Groot?”

He rocked back and forth on his heels, trembling hands clasped behind his back. “I am Groot.”

“Check the bank account,” Gamora said urgently to Peter, who immediately swiped away from the map screen on the ship’s computer to bring up their finances. Green blinked back at them in triumph. “What…”

“You got most of it back,” Peter breathed, turning to look at Groot in awe. “All that from a couple of emails to the game developers?”

“I am Groot,” he shrugged.

Peter grinned. “Well, of course they’re huge fans of the Guardians. And thanks to them, we’re up twenty-two thousand units.” He softened. “Or should I say, thanks to you. This was real big of you, kid. Thanks.”

Groot slowly lumbered over, moving to sit across from them, only for Gamora to shuffle over so he could take the spot between her and Peter. His smile widened as he accepted, glancing between them. For a moment, he remembered what it had been like for him barely four years ago - hardly a foot tall, vulnerable and volatile all the same, curled up by their heads on their pillows, his breathing in perfect rhythm with theirs as he fell asleep. He smiled privately to himself and pulled out the next thing he’d been hiding behind his back - a small device, akin to a Terran record player, and set it on the table. “I am Groot.”

“What’s this?” Peter asked, poking it cautiously with his finger like he expected it to explode. “Is this where the other eight grand went?” Groot nodded. “Aw, hell, Groot, what now - ”

“I am Groot,” he said simply.

Gamora let out a small gasp of recognition and picked it up, bringing it closer to her face. “I had one of these as a child…how did you get this?”

“Seriously, what is it?” Peter exclaimed.

She turned to look at him, her eyes shining with excitement. “It’s a bit like those music boxes you told me about. My mother said she used to play Zehoberian folk songs on her bedside table while she was pregnant with me to soothe herself, and then set it by my crib when I wasn’t able to sleep. It’s been years since I thought about them.”

Gamora carefully cracked open its lid, revealing a thin golden ring that was approximately the size of a roll of duct tape, rotating slowly in the divet carved into the base of the box. A weak, but pleasant melody crackled through, soft and lilting. She let out a quiet sob of joy, her fingers trembling as she covered her mouth to steady herself. Peter moved around the table to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders, leaning in to hear the song better.

After a full song had finished, trailing off with a sort of melancholic sweetness, Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Wow, that was really somethin’. It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Groot.” Gamora hastily wiped at the tears now streaking down her face. “I still can’t say I’m entirely happy about you spending so much money, but this was very sweet of you.”

“I am Groot?” he asked.

She laughed. “Yes, fine. I’m proud of you, Groot. Just don’t do it again.”

He happily curled up into her side, allowing Peter to throw his arms around both of them. Groot sighed contentedly, his face half-burrowed in Gamora’s neck, reminding him of…well, not simpler times, necessarily. Just…good memories. “I am Groot.”

Peter chuckled, squeezing his shoulder in response. “We love you too, kid.”

#ask #Anonymous #starmora #starmora fic #myfic #marvel #i miss writing guardians-centric fic sometimes #the date/anniversary prompts i've been getting are sweet but sometimes it makes peter and gamora seem so lonely lmao #hope you enjoyed!!

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