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freshloveee · 3 months

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party gone wrong

requested? yes! here

i actually hate this so sorry to this anon i'll probably make some edits later or just redo it as a whole

warnings: slight mention of alcohol, crying, panic attack, shit ending lmao

parties were never your thing. you hated the noise, the people, the crowded rooms, basically everything about it. now dating an influencer came along with many parties. you have been to an "influencer party" before and it wasn't that bad. you stuck with who you knew and everything was alright, but the one tonight was going to be huge. you were scared but you didn't dare to tell your boyfriend, matt. not that he would do anything bad, just because he would drop everything when he really wanted to go to this party. you were currently at your vanity doing your makeup. you're wearing a cropped black short sleeve with a varsity jacket on top and jeans. once you finished your makeup you took your hair out of it's black claw clip to reveal your natural hair. you ruffle it up a bit (please tell me yk what i mean) and matt walks into the room. you turn your head around to see him in jeans and a ransom tee with a skull and blue lettering. you smile at him admiring his presence.

"you look pretty." matt says, breaking the silence

"thank you, and you look handsome." you say with a slight blush and a wide smile

"thanks, well we're gonna get heading out soon just a heads up." matt says blushing due to your compliment

"alright, i'll be down in a minute."

after matt left you put on your shoes and apply some perfume. you sigh deeply knowing that this party won't be enjoyable but hey, its for matt. shortly after you walk downstairs and you head to the car. 15 minutes later you guys arrive at the party. you grab matt's hand and he gives it a light squeeze.

it's been an hour and to be honest you're pretty proud of yourself. you haven't had that many moments where you were extremely uncomfortable. well safe to say you spoke too soon. before you knew it your clothes were too tight, the smell of the alcohol was nauseating, the music was giving you a headache, and your breaths started getting short.

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna go to the bathroom" you say as you put on your best fake smile

"okay!" nick says

the second you step into the bathroom you start crying. it was all too much. you hug your knees to your chest and let your jeans soak up the tears. you tried to calm yourself down but nothing was working. you didn't know how much time you spent on the floor crying.

at the party, outside of the bathroom

"is y/n alright?" nick questions

"i don't know she's been in there for a while. i'll go check on her" matt says wondering if you're okay

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna go check on my girl." matt informs the rest of the group.

he walks towards the bathroom hoping that you're alright. he knocks on the door.

"you alright, n/n?"

"n-no, just c-come in." you choke out

he opens the door to see you hyperventilating and crying.

"oh baby…" matt says

"i-i'm sorry" you say barely above a whisper

"no, no, no, none of this is your fault i should've noticed how uncomfortable you were." matt says as he wraps you into a bear hug

"can you take some deep breaths?" matt asks

"i-i'll try." you stammer out

"here let's do it together, in through your nose out through your mouth."

he rubs your back and whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

"how about we go home and watch a movie?" matt suggests

you instantly nod your head nuzzling your head farther into his chest if that was even possible.

at home

you kick your shoes off and go upstairs to change matt soon following. he grabs your makeup wipes and walks towards you.

"what are you doing?" you question

"taking of your makeup? now close your eyes." matt says in a "duh" tone

you close your eyes as he gently rubs the wipe against your soft skin, scared to hurt you. he smiles as the way your nose scrunched up when the wipe hits a new spot on your face

"alrighty, i'm done." matt declares

you both get into bed. your head against his chest listening to his heartbeat. matt soon puts on a movie (wtv u want)

"i'm sorry i didn't realize sooner, baby." matt says quietly

"i promise it's okay, none of this is your fault." you assure

"i love you baby, more than you'll ever know." matt says with love in his voice

"i love you too."

30 minutes later you had fallen asleep, matt notices and turns down the volume down on the tv.

"good night my love." matt says as he kisses your temple admiring the sight of his girlfriend

tags: @mangoposts @mattitties @freshloveforthefit @78yaz @lacysturniolo @gnxosblog @worldlxvlys

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #fresh love #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader

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foolishfalls · 10 months

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I've been kind of just chucking my feelings out into many a void today and I guess I'll do it here. Who knows where I'm likely to get a response??

below the cut i'll be discussing repeat injuries, chronic pain, how my mental health interacts with/contributes to them, and my growing rage and exasperation with the american healthcare system.

I feel like for much of my life I have been grappling with nebulous burgeoning health problems that were rarely serious enough for me to really seek out a doctor, plus, my parents are both notoriously bad at seeing doctors and taking care of themselves too, so living with them into adulthood definitely didn't help. (It's tough as hell being a PDA autistic up against all these very harsh hierarchical systems so full of barriers and demands amirite?)

given the autism with a pretty heavy PDA slant, making and keeping appointments has been a harrowing process for me for my whole entire life, as long as I can remember. It doesn't help that I am also terrible at advocating for myself and have been consistently dismissed by doctors over stuff that I experience... I've just kind of learned to take it lying down which is not a good habit but i get easily exasperated trying to explain myself to doctors. i struggle a ton with even talking to people i see as holding authority over me (i attribute this to ten years of catholic school kind of breaking me mentally and emotionally. if you have been to a religious or catholic school perhaps you have an understanding of this kind of mistreatment)

anyway, i just feel like the pandemic and the ongoing collapse of the healthcare system has just really brought this to a head for me recently. In the last 6 years or so, i've injured both of my ankles several times, rolls and sprains. honestly, the first few times, i was being dumb and not paying attention (i went through a terrible binge drinking period during my 21st year, hadn't yet discovered that i literally cannot wear most shoes besides flat-soled sneakers) but even when I tried to be careful after one or two bad sprains that went unchecked, mostly, I would end up hurting myself. Two of the subsequent times I hurt myself while moving between apartments (I've always lived in walk-ups and have usually moved everything myself with little help aside from friends) and bc of pretty bad cracks on sidewalks (big city infrastructure is total garbage, big surprise!)

like, as my repeated injuries got worse, my capacity for physical activity has too, and I already struggled for years as a kid and teen to develop a decent exercise/activity routine. I think I also have low muscle tone and really slow recovery time due to autism or some co-morbid condition (such as EDS or something. i have weird, weak, clicky joints, but i'm not really typically hypermobile?)

anyway, every time i went in for an x-ray or to see a doctor, i basically got told just to RICE and take care of it at home, so I didn't seek further help. the one time i did was last year, and it took a lot of advocating and was quite hard for me, and then it took months of waiting to even get an appointment with an ortho. This is after 5-6 sprains on my right ankle, and 2 on my left. when i sprained my left ankle the last time, i landed quite hard on my right knee and definitely hurt that too, because it still clicks and acts up.

of course, last august, my ortho appt finally approaches, and i get fucking covid literally the day before. i was so sick and tired i just no-showed and honestly forgot about it. if I miss an appointment and dont reschedule immediately, the likelihood that I will do that is very low. once again, PDA is a bitch.

but, at least since then I haven't actually injured my ankle. However, who knows what the effects of covid were on my body, my joints, who tf knows?? we know it causes and exacerbates all kind of conditions in people. I barely have been able to get doctors to take me seriously about the stuff I'm chronically experiencing, so even bringing up long-covid has felt kind of scary and pointless, tbh.

Fast forward to april of this year. after working in office jobs and sitting for two years straight, which caused me a ton of awful burnout, i end up working part-time at a cafe. while I'm working there, i injure/strain my hip and low back while slipping on a wet floor. this pain keeps me in bed consistently for about 3 weeks and I go to see my doctor about it. he diagnoses me with sciatic pain because it seems to be running and radiating down from my leg and hip. (mind you this is my right hip, which is attached to the knee i've hurt maybe twice, and the ankle i've injured 5-6 times!)

Up until then, I had been receiving some PT at my previous job to help stabilize and strengthen my hips, which my PT determined as the main cause for my ankle injuries. my hips shake when i walk and tend to cause a lot of instability. I made some progress, but I was receiving PT at my old job, and my insurance changed when I left it, so i was uninsured for like three months in the beginning of this year while trying to get new coverage. my hip pain was bad for about a month, after seeing my doctor, i got x-rays and they came back clean but the pain wasn't fully subsiding, so he writes me referrals for PT and pain management.

Because of my shit association with PT due to my old job, and the fact that the pain finally began to subside after the x rays came back (I kind of thought, oh, maybe it was lingering mostly due to my stress, guess im good) I dont make a PT appointment right away. I look into one place i'm referred to and it turns out they dont take my insurance which is bullshit. Then, I go to my last option, the hospital system I see my PCP out of. It's basically the lowest quality medical care you can access with medicaid which is what i currently have, and due to my experience working in a high-end PT office i know what the difference will be. this mental block kind of keeps me thinking it will be pointless so i took a while to make an appointment, trying to do exercises at home for now since i had a baseline from my old job.

While all this is happening, as my hip pain is subsiding, i get a weird lump/bump where my heel meets my right ankle, my bad ankle. it has been this way since about the end of May, now, and it has been the source of some of the most disarming, weird, confusing pain I've ever experienced in my life.

I also didn't talk yet about how realizing I'm autistic helped me make sense of my weird pain tolerance. on one hand, i've always been notably sensitive to even the slightest pain. would sob and sob over the smallest things as a kid. i think due to the reactions of adults around me, i gradually learned to dissociate in order to bury my pain. so, i feel like i both experience pain very strongly and intensely, and at times it can be so debilitating and distracting that i can focus on little else and it almost causes me brain fog and fatigue, while at other times, it is kind of distant and i tend to dissociate from it.

with this new pain in my heel, there's definitely some nerve shit involved, i think... i get twitches/spasms sometimes, numbness, tingling, sharp pain, dull pain. and it's seemingly unpredictable. i wear compression socks or a sleeve almost every single day because it's all that helps. it's past the point of icing helping it much because it's not swollen.

basically every time i have seen a doctor about my pain leading up to now, I have brought up the possibility of some underlying cause, but i always get dismissed. told I'm digging too deep or thinking too hard and just stressing myself out, despite the fact that I've always been clumsy and injury prone and had coordination issues. I guess bc those coordination issues haven't been well documented, and i am not officially diagnosed with autism or anything that could support my claims, i just don't get taken seriously, despite my experience being quite abnormal from what i understand when talking to others!!!

idk where I'm even going with this. today i was at a PT appointment for my hip and was on the verge of tears the whole time. I have to go back to my primary doctor in order for them to even begin attending to my heel despite that being the worst pain, and despite the fact that my hip/knee/heel/sciatica are all definitely related. I'm assuming this is because of insurance bullshit, i know it's pretty basic procedure, but it's exhausting that the american healthcare system is set up this way. it's really hard when you're autistic also and struggle with making and keeping appointments. it doesn't help that i've been dismissed by so many doctors that i just get intense anxiety about even having to go back again.

i'm also looking for a new PCP anyway because i don't like that mine doesn't take me very seriously and i am also transitioning and very scared/a bit paranoid about facing any transphobia or disclosing that fact to him if we have to run any blood tests. so maybe I'll have a better experience elsewhere, but this heel stuff has gone on for so long that i just have to bite the bullet and go back to the same place if it will be quicker to do so anyway.

and like, all procedural/red tape/insurance bullshit aside, bottom of the barrel PT treatment here is like. so dismal. once again maybe it's just bc i have the point of comparison from my old job, but i feel like the treatment is really just. so lackluster, doctors are seeing multiple patients at once, you're rushed through your visit, you don't have time to ask questions. the whole time i've been there no one has so much as taken a closer look at my heel. i know i'm there for my hip and you have to say that on paper for insurance, but like, damn, not even just a quick check??

I am afraid it's because I'm habitually downplaying the pain to cope and because i'm terrified of doctors. so maybe it's my fault.

still, the system is downright hostile to people who struggle with that stuff.

i don't have much else to say. just wanted to dump this somewhere and see if anyone else can understand or empathize with my experience. i don't talk about this super openly or readily because I don't even feel like i can call it chronic pain sometimes despite this being a several month long problem and really an issue that is about five years old, despite it being inconsistent... mostly because i just don't have the affirmation of a medical diagnosis. i have considered getting a cane/mobility aid very thoroughly recently because i know it would help me (and maybe even force doctors to take me seriously) but there's a part of me that feels like i can't or shouldn't. like i'm not valid enough for that, or i can function without it, but i know that's dismissive and so not the right way to think about mobility aids

i mean, it doesn't help that my dad has been limping and had chronic pain for years and has one and still refuses to use it... the internalized ableism runs deep. it's fucked. i'm trying hard to undo it but it's hard when you're already just hard on yourself.

anyway, just sorely needed to get this off my chest. thanks for reading if you do.

EDIT: i also wanted to say,, if you have gone through anything similar, just know you're not alone! so if you want to share your experience or talk about it with me pls know my asks and dms are open.

#personal #chronic pain #healthcare #idk #autism

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hiddles-and-skittles · 3 years

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Ride

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,585

Summary: Gatherings can't be that bad, right? Especially if your boyfriend convinces you to ditch early for a ride home on his motorcycle. It's just unfortunate he's gotta rile you up beforehand.. .

Warnings: 18+, kinda masturbation/edging by motorcycle???, teasing, pet names; sweetheart, doll, cocky Bucky (what? He's definitely a warning)

Notes: This idea came to me and I absolutely could NOT put it down. I don't typically write smut or anything along those lines, so any feedback is appreciated! This is way out of my comfort zone😅

____________

"Come on, Sam is waiting on us."

You roll your eyes and dramatically throw yourself back on the bed. "Yeah well, Sam can wait. I don't even want to be there."

"And you think I do?" He calls to you, pulling on his gloves and nearly stomping back towards your room.

"Bucky, I don't want to go." He stands in your doorway and you pout at him, making him sigh.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. "I know. But who says we gotta stay all night?" At this, you raise up from your mopey position. "We make an appearance, talk to Sam for a little while, then get lost in the crowd and disappear. He won't even notice."

You hum thoughtfully. "Good point." You swing your legs over the bed and slip into your Converse shoes, plastering a smile to your face and gleefully skipping due to the fact you'll get to leave early.

Sam was having a reunion party with some buddies from his Afghanistan tours. It was a huge event downtown, but neither you nor Bucky was a big fan of crowds. So the two of you only considered going in support of Sam.

Bucky stopped on the apartment complex's steps, narrowing his eyes at an empty parking spot. "He took my bike."

You snorted. "Cab it is."

________

Shortly you arrive at the event and he opens the cab door for you, his knuckles grazing down your arm to catch your hand in his. The action sends a shudder through your body and he smirks, stopping to give you a scheming look.

"What?" you ask him, furrowing your eyebrows and squeezing his hand.

"Nothing," he simpers.

You decide to be suspicious of him for the rest of the evening.

There are a plethora of people but you both advance through the crowd in search of Sam, Bucky stopping you to point out that Sam is quite preoccupied. He nudges you towards the most empty table he can find so you can sit down. On either side of you both is an empty seat, and the rest of the chairs are filled by half-drunk, burly men sporting drinks.

One of them turns to you and introduces himself and his comrades. A few of them take quick note of Bucky's name, quoting something Sam has mentioned about him before then thanking Bucky for his service. You wrap your arm around his middle and look up at him with pride, nuzzling yourself closer to your soldier.

You're both quiet as the vets around you continue their chatter about their best times, their laughter making the atmosphere light. You have to admit, you might actually be enjoying yourself. You're lost in a story about a guy teaching his kid how to hot wire a car when a hand squeezes your thigh.

Your knee immediately jerks and hits the table and you have to bite your bottom lip to stifle a yelp. A few heads turn in your direction and as you feel the warmth spreading to your face, you feign a sneeze, apologizing for the interruption. Bucky remains dead panned, although the sides of his mouth subtly quirk up. You glare at him. "Bless you, sweetheart," he patronizes. You shift uncomfortably as the men return to their conversations.

His hand makes its way back to your thigh and you inhale sharply through your nose. "Bucky," you whimper, swallowing hard.

"Gotta keep quiet for me, doll, or I'll stop," he tuts lowly. Instinctively you spread your legs a little to make enough room for his hand. Your breath hitches as he circles your clit with his middle finger, lightly tracing down your clothed mound. You curse yourself for wearing jeans, because the thickness of the denim heavily affects the way he feels against you.

But you want more.

He presses harder until Sam struts over to the table, and Bucky innocuously throws his arm around your shoulder. You huff in frustration and he chuckles.

"Surprised you two haven't left yet," Sam laughs, sipping a beer and slapping a hand over Bucky's shoulder.

"Why would we do that?" Bucky asks sarcastically.

Sam rolls his eyes playfully. "Stay awhile, enjoy the sunset and have a drink. They're all on the house." You both pause in thought. "I knew that would convince you!"

"Well," you start. "The sky is gorgeous right now. Maybe just one drink till the sun sets."

Someone then calls for Sam and he excuses himself, telling you he'll see you back at home later. You watch him disappear into the crowd, reality hitting you that you're still worked up from Bucky's teasing. And all it takes is a devious look from him to get you riled up again. You shoot up from your seat to thank the vets around you for their service, and tell them that it was nice to meet them, but you have some personal matters to attend to at home. Bucky follows suit, grabbing your hand.

You try to push your way through the crowd without an obvious, horny spring in your step, and as you pass by a table, Bucky fishes a beer with his free hand without stopping.

"I'll call the cab back here and we can-"

"No."

"What?" You stop in your tracks and Bucky lets go of you, continuing to walk to where his motorcycle is parked. He beckons you over with a crooked finger as he mounts the bike, and you fold your arms over your chest, cocking an eyebrow.

"What? It's not like he'll be able to drive tonight anyway." He foots the kick stand, placing his beer in the back compartment then bringing his hands up to twist around the handlebars. "Come on, let's go watch the sunset."

"The-the sunset?" You ask incredulously.

"What? You said it was pretty, let's go get a closer look." Your eye twitches at his feigned ignorance.

"Bucky I swear to god if you don't take me right now-"

He grins. "Then I just won't take you at all." He revs the engine once to accentuate his threat and you groan. "Come on or I'll leave you."

"Fine."

You march over to him and swing your leg over the bike, nestling yourself into his back and situating your hands on top of his shoulders. The engine roars to life, the heads of onlookers catching your eye and in one swift motion he kicks it into gear and you're off.

The winds whips your hair and licks at your face, causing you to constantly tear it away from your eyes. Once free, you take in the view before you, ever amazed at how the sun sets on the water; the sky glows with an orange and pink hue, making it look like a painting. And for a moment you forget about your throbbing lower half until you shift to get a little more comfortable on the seat and oh. Oh.

Your hands impulsively tighten around his shoulders and your jaw goes slack, gasping as the vibration from the motorcycle hits just the right spot. You let out a light moan and no sooner clap a hand over your mouth, hoping Bucky hasn't heard you. Your head slumps forward on his back.

"You good back there?" He yells over his shoulder.

"Y-yeah! Uh-all good!" you wheeze, attempting not to sound too out of sorts. The street is bare as he stops at a red light, and you try to breathe so as not to let the pleasure overtake you. It's not that you don't want to let go, it's just that you know you'll never hear the end of it from him of you do.

When the light turns green, he revs the engine so many times you lose count. Your mind is swirling in ecstacy and you start to pant faster, clinging onto Bucky for dear life as you near your release.

You screw your eyes shut, the coil finally snapping while you bite down harshly on the shoulder of his leather jacket. By this point you're unabashedly gasping and moaning, your hips bucking wildly into the seat as your clit is overstimulated to the point it hurts.

You pray for the ride to your apartment to end while he speeds up, causing you to sob into the waves of pleasure the vibrations are granting you. You claw mindlessly at his torso until he finally slows to a stop, and you catch your breath to come to your senses. You can't help the nagging, coherent thought that the ride home had taken a lot longer than usual and you realize the sky is now completely black and littered with stars.

He knew. That fucker knew.

Bucky dismounts the vehicle and stands before you with a hand on his hip and a smug demeanor. You lean forward on your hands, still heaving to try and even out your breath.

"Enjoy the ride?" Bucky taunts, flat lining his lips.

"Fuck-" pant "-you," you nearly spit. He chuckles darkly. "You were edging me, with a goddamn motorcycle."

He scratches the back of his head. "I might have added a little extra something just for you."

You raise your head. "Why don't we go upstairs and you let me get my revenge?"

He huffs. "What's the point? You already came all over my seat."

"It wasn't your cock," you retort, untangling your wobbly legs from the bike. Bucky reaches out to steady you, pulling you to him by your waist.

"Fair point, pretty girl."

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #marvel cinematic universe #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #tfatws

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donutloverxo · 3 years

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NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #steve x reader

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hopeandvolleyball · 3 years

Text

insecure boys pt.1

genre: angst if you squint, fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: food, weight insecurities in osamus

w/ osamu, atsumu

osamu miya

osamu had gotten home from work a little more than an hour ago, and he figured he’d been spending that entire time looking at the mirror, pinching the newfound softness piling onto his tummy. he’s been squeezing and kneading the flesh for so long it was turning red. lips twisted to the side, osamu sighed. when did he gain this much weight? how did he let this happen? osamu could barely look at himself in the mirror without feeling ugly and ashamed. mumbling under his breath he pulled a looser hoodie over his head, grateful it wasn’t starting to become tight around his middle.

you called his name from the kitchen, an indicator dinner was ready. in all honesty he didn’t feel like going out there, the idea of eating making him nauseous. but he still entered the living room, unable to fully wipe the crestfallen look off his face. even seeing your bubbly frame and pretty smile in the kitchen couldn’t fully heal him from his insecure thoughts clouding his mind. setting the utensils down, you ran up to hug osamu, arms around his waist. he surpressed the urge to push your arms down, not wanting you to feel his plush stomach. your eyes looked at him with pure adoration, sparkles and hearts swimming in your irises. osamu placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“dinner will be ready in a few minutes, just gotta plate it and stuff,” you informed him, sounding so giddy. “might not look as pretty as when you make it but-”

“’bout that. ‘m not really hungry, darlin. ate a bit too much while at the shop today,” he lied not smoothly. he felt the familiar nausea creep back up his throat. he felt even worse at the frown tugging at the sides of your lips.

“you’re a bad liar, samu,” you commented, hands on your hips. “what’s wrong love? talk to me, please?” you pleaded. osamu knew he couldn’t keep it in anymore, not from you. it wasn’t fair. his stoic expression began to soften and quiver.

“when did i let myself go?” osamu asked, his voice starting to break. your brows furrowed and lips curled into a pout. you pulled him close to you, slipping your fingers through his dark brown locks as he held on to you with all the force he had.

“what on earth are you talking about, samu?” you inquired as he squeezed you tighter.

“’m fat, darlin,” he whimpered. “i hate lookin’ at myself in the mirror and i don’t know why yer still with me.” that broke your heart, you heart it shatter into a hundred pieces as he spoke. you opened your mouth to speak but he continued. you decided it best to let him rant. “every day ya see ‘tsumu and i can’t help but thinkin’ ye’d want a guy like that. i used to be that and i’m so disappointed-”

“lovebug you own a restaurant,” you determined with a flat expression. osamu blinked, the tears forming in the corners of his eyes disappearing.

“yeah. i know that. what does-”

“so its natural for you to gain weight if your working with food consistently,” you cut him off again. “do you think i expected a good chef to be completely cut? no i didn’t. besides, you wear the weight well.” osamu blinked.

“ye noticed?” he tilted his head to the side.

“of course i did. i never said anything because i didn’t care. you look just as good, if not better, because the added weight means i’m taking care of you. that i’m treating you well.” you leaned up to kiss his temple. “if you want to lose the weight fine, samu. but i’m upset you’d do it by not eating. i want you to be safe and healthy, okay?” your hand caressed his cheek, drenched with newly found tears. “oh samu, i’m sorry-”

“yer fine darlin,” he sniffled, smiling brightly for the first time that day. “thank ya. i love ya more than i could ever tell ya.”

“i love you too osamu,” you kissed his lips sweetly. “now come on you need to eat.” dinner went by just fine, your eyes on him the entire time to be sure he ate his fill, watching him smile and hum after each bite. you loved osamu so much and you wanted to make sure he knew that. after dinner you relocated to the couch, his head finding its sweet spot on your lap. your hand smoothed over his abdomen, rubbing it affectionately. he hummed again.

“‘m gonna fall asleep if ya keep doin that,” osamu mumbled against the fabric of your pants. you giggled.

“do it. you’ve had a long day, samu. get some sleep lovebug. i love you so much,” you gave his sides a pat. osamu hummed again, mumbling affections under his breath as he doze off into a gentle slumber.

atsumu miya

you waited in the living room of your shared apartment for atsumu to return home from practice. scrolling through your phone with boredom etched into your features until the front door creaked open. with bright eyes your head tilted up to see atsumu in the doorway, kicking off his shoes with a sigh. not an extra loud one like usual, which didn’t instantly tip you off. still, your lips pulled in the brightest grin possible.

“welcome back tsumu! i missed you,” you beamed with a giggle. but all you were met with was a dismissive hum from atsumu. frowning you watched him set his volleyball bag on the table and head out to shower. okay. guess he was having a bad day today. nothing atsumu miya’s loving girlfriend couldn’t fix! pulling out your phone you ordered his favorite from his favorite takeout restaurant, waiting for him to finish showering. your knee bounced in impatience, but that all changed once atsumu emerged from his shower, drying his hair with no shirt and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “hey! i ordered your favorite, i figured you could use it. you look like you’ve had a rough day.” you smiled softly. all atsumu did was nod.

“thanks,” was his curt reply. now you were a mix of hurt and confused and upset. what did you do? why was he being so distant? was it because you forgot to text him the picture of the dog you saw during your break? or the fact that you forgot to cook the asparagus he wanted before it went bad? what was wrong with your boyfriend. he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. pouting you followed behind him, poking his side enough to annoy him enough to look over at you.

“okay atsumu miya. what’s wrong with you?” you demanded, arms crossing under your chest, cheeks puffed up. “usually you walk into this apartment and talk my ear off about anything and everything that happened at practice and today i’m met with absolute radio silence? what’s with that?” atsumu’s brow quivered and he turned to you with dark eyes.

“sorry that ‘m annoyin and wanna fix my behavior so ya don’t fuckin’ leave me,” atsumu spat, returning to his water glass. your expression fell and you felt your heart sink.

“what?” was your broken reply. and of course atsumu didn’t respond. “tsumu talk to me please, what’s gotten into you?”

“omi called me annoyin’ today, which ain’t unusual, but he said if i didn’t get my act together ye’d leave me,” atsumu shifted awkwardly, staring at his reflection in the water. you frowned and placed your hands gently on atsumu’s hips, staring up at him.

“honey, no, i’d never leave you,” you cooed. “yeah you’re loud and obnoxious-”

“not helpin’ y/n.”

“but that’s part of your charm. you always manage to have something to say and i’m always here to listen. you never make things boring. and i love that about you. i love hearing how excited you get when you talk about your day, or the frustrated lilt in your tone when you complain about people not hitting your sets.”

“because my sets are perfect!” he spoke up, voice louder than it had been all day and had an offended squeak at the end of it.

“there’s my tsumu,” you sighed sweetly. “there’s my sweet baby. kiyoomi’s full of it. i’d never leave you for something as trivial about how much you talk. now cmon. how about we have dinner and you can tell me about your day, hm?” atsumu’s eyes were bright and he nodded like a sweet golden retriever.

“and then bo-kun kept missing my sets. my sets! then he got all mopey and pouty ‘bout it and i was like dude get a grip,” atsumu rolled his eyes around a mouth full of food, causing you to giggle. “he got his shit together eventually but damn it was so annoying. and don’t get me started on omi omi...” sighing sweetly you couldn’t help but stare at your over excitable boyfriend. listening to him ramble about his day was the best part about him coming home.

#osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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one-rosy-sock · 3 years

Text

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt.

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

#abner krill #polka dot man #the Suicide squad #abner krill x reader #polkadot man x reader #reader #therapy #chapter one

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greenmonstercollarbones · 3 years

Text

Living With the Turtles Headcanons Again Except Horny (18+ NSFW):

Leo

So Leo snitched on the guys for doing something stupid and now they're all in Hashi without him. And he was meditating and it's super quiet so you kinda don't even realize he's still home. He's done meditating and decides that since he's got quiet free time that he's gonna take out his nice swords (the ones hanging above his bed)

He walks into the bedroom area you all share and your back is turned to him and you're taking your shirt off. You've got your curtain open (for plot).

"Shit sorry." He says as he turns around, "You know this is what the curtain is for."

This has been a problem since you've moved in, mostly with Mikey where he'll try to see your figure through the curtain. Leo tries not to embarrass you, and tries to act like he isn't sexually attracted to you at all.

"They're only tits Leo. Nothing you haven't seen in porn before." You respond as he grabs the katana. He tries to pretend you aren't there and starts cleaning it.

"You can look you know." You say as you slowly start taking off you pants. You're really trying to draw out being naked as long as you can.

"Huh?" He asks super confused.

"You can look. At me? I really don't mind."

"You threw your shoe at Donnie for accidentally opening the curtain while you were in a bra. I really don't believe you're okay with us looking at you shirtless." He retorts, "besides I'm just being respectful. There's no reason for me to look."

"Not all of you guys, just you Leo. And are you saying you don't want me?" You start walking up to him and you sit on his lap. He just sits there wide-eyed at you, "What's wrong I'm not enough for you?" You say as you twirl the tails of his mask.

"No, no. You're more than enough. You're absolutely perfect. But are you sure what you're doing is the best idea. It's coming out of nowhere."

"Leonardo I've been flirting with you since I got here. You're just stupid." You start pulling him closer to you, and now your bare chest is pressed hard against his plastron. By now he's put his katana back in it's sheath and abandoned it.

He puts his hands on your face and pulls you in for a kiss. Once the kiss starts getting more passionate he starts running his hands down all of your body stopping at your ass. He grabs it and starts moving your hips against him.

He puts his thumb at the top of your panties and starts tugging at them before stopping himself. You sigh at his self control and get off of his lap and take them off yourself. He pulls you back in and then flips you over onto your back on his bed.

He starts kissing your neck and starts moving his kisses down. All over you chest, only stopping to squeeze your tits momentarily. He kisses down your stomach until he gets to your pussy. He plants one firm kiss on your clit before moving to your thigh. He sucks on your thigh hard until he leaves a big purple mark.

"What was that for?" You ask.

"Just as proof for when the guys don't believe me."

Because you can reply he shoves his tongue into your entrance hard, forcing a gasp of air out of you. He takes his tongue out before giving one big lick from the bottom to top of your pussy. He grabs your thighs and lifts them high above his head. He starts sucking on the little nub that gets a reaction out of you.

He moves both of your thighs into one hand to hold them up. He takes his empty hand and shoves his pointer finger into your mouth, getting it wet. Before you know it his finger enters your tight pussy. He doesn't waste any time going slow and immediately picks up speed. He's going so hard he has to lift his head from between your legs and his palm starts pounding against your clit.

He's on his knees in front of you now and as you look at him you see his bulge is already protruding out of his shorts. He takes his finger out completely.

"Come on don't stop. I was close." You whine.

"Don't worry, I'll replace it with something better for you baby." He unzips his shorts and starts rubbing his cock, twisting his hand around the tip.

He lifts your hips and enters you. This time he starts out slow. He keeps one hand on your thigh but lowers down closer to you with his forearm keeping him up. He lifts up the one thigh he still has control over and starts moving faster inside of you. He nuzzles into your neck and starts moaning sweet nothings to you as he's moving more sloppily.

He sits up, grabbing your hips, and thrusts into you a few last times. You feel his cum fill you as he pushes as far into you as he can. He gets up and grabs a towel to clean you up. After he's done cleaning you he kisses you on the cheek and grabs your clothes from your nook.

"It took you a long time to get dressed y/n."

Donnie

"I didn't get knocked over that bad Donnie. You don't have to stay here with me. Go on patrol with the guys" You tell him as he holds a stethoscope to your chest. He shushes you louder than how loud you were talking.

"I can't hear if you don't stop talking, I just want to make sure your breathing is okay."

He has you on his desk, since it was the tallest ledge to set you on, and you know . . . he's tall. Mikey had knocked into you a little too hard and you fell over. That's all. But Donnie seemed a bit more concerned that he should be.

"My breathing is just fine. My ribs hurt a little bit from the impact but other than that I'm completely fine." You reply.

"You don't think they could be bruised do you?" He sets the stethoscope down and starts feeling your ribs through your shirt, "Can you take your shirt off so I can feel easier?"

You comply and take your shirt off. Luckily you were wearing a sports bra at least. But it gave you an idea.

"Donnie kiss me if I'm wrong but the moon is a planet right?"

He looks up at you like your crazy before smiling at you. He takes your face in one of his hands and gives you a quick peck.

"Don't say that bullshit again please." He says jokingly to you.

"Pussy."

"Excuse me?" He looks at you hella confused.

"You kiss like a pussy. Kiss me like you mean it. Or else I'm totally putting the moon on my list of favorite planets." You smirk at him.

This time he quickly takes your face in you both of his hands and kisses you rougher and faster. Although he was still kissing you super sweet.

"You got any other shitty pick up lines to use on me." He giggles at you. You pause and think for a moment before replying

"I know you'd usually help me get A's in class but I really think I need some D."

"That was abso-fucking-lutely terrible." He looks around for a moment to make sure Splinter wasn't watching, "Come with me."

He takes you hand and brings you to the shellraiser. He locks all the doors and sits in Mikeys seat. He pats him lap and asks you to hop on. And you do. You start kissing again and for awhile nothing progresses so you start taking things into your own hands. You start grinding on his cock which had already started getting hard. You felt it get harder as Donnie whimpered into your kiss.

You giggled at him and pulled the skirt you were wearing up (Mikey also happened to get you this skirt. So sorry Mikey for both ruining the dignity of your seat and skirt.) Donnie pushed your panties to the side and started rubbing your clit. Suddenly a lightbulb lit up in his head.

"Hey get off for a minute I'm gonna go grab something. You keep playing with yourself princess." You get off of his lap and he closes the back door of the shellraiser behind him. You sit back on the chair and take your bra off. You start playing with your tit in one hand and rub your clit with the other.

After a minute Donnie comes back in. He turns to see you in the chair, biting your lip trying to keep yourself from moaning from your own touch.

"Wow, you're gorgeous. Keeping going I want to see you finish." And you do. You throw your head back and your knees start shaking from pleasure. Once you're down you look down at Donnie, who's stroking himself with one hand and holding a small black object in his hand. He twists one end of the black object and it starts vibrating.

"Wait is that a vibrator? Why do you have that D?"

"Hey, it wasn't really originally supposed to vibrate. It- It's a longgg story. Anyways, can I?" He asks as he tugs at your panties. You nod yes to him. He takes them off your hips and tosses them on the floor of the truck.

He presses the vibrator to your clit, which was already super sensitive and sore from you rubbing it. Donnie smirks at the little moaning coming out of you and lines himself up with your pussy. He pushes himself into you and gasps at the feeling of you tight around him. You giggle at him and pull him deeper into you.

He seems too overwhelmed to start moving at first but eventually he starts thrusting into you. He asks you to hold the vibrator for him after you finish around him a second time. He grabs your legs and spreads them higher. He starts moving in and out sloppier, harder, and faster. He's making cute little squeaks and breathy moans. He slows down and slams himself into you each time as he cums into you. The van shakes at every movement he's making. As he lets go of your legs and starts to exit, that familiar pressure starting building up for you. Donnie moves your hand and the vibrator away from your clit and finishes you with his tongue. After he sucks everything spilling out of you.

You start putting your clothes back on but you realize your shirt is missing and start looking for it.

"Are you looking for your shirt, princess? You left it in my lab." He says as he clips his suspenders back on. "Let's go grab it."

Donnie lifts up the door of the shellraiser with Mikey and Raph chilling at the dining table across from you. They're staring back at you.

"Did you guys have fun?" Mikey asks you, "Because Leo's snitching on you guys right now."

I'll do a part two with Mikey and Raph later because I got attacked by a bug while writing this and I'm emotionally distressed about it.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt smut #tmnt bayverse #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2016 #tmnt au

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Note

Can I request a fluffy HC? SKZ comforting you while you’re rlly drunk when you get home and taking care of you. (Like you stumble and have to throw up and stuff)

i just realised that i kept on calling my headcanons for reactions?? I MEAN i dont even know at this point lmao imma call it... headcanons/reactions

ALSO new territory for me,,, im usually not much for fluff unless its really captivating or like drabbles (ahhh bf!skz is my weakness) AND SO YEAH UNDERSTAND IF ITS A BIT... lackluster.

jesus christ ive been listening to touch you for like an hour now ASHAHS save me,,, its too good

HEADCANON sKKRrrT

Warnings; skz x gn!reader; fluff (wow amazing?? cherry writes fluff?) established relationship, drinking, use of alcohol, vomiting, minor injuries, mentions of bruises.

Bangchan

worry mode; on

lets say you were out drinking

dont even think that you could make it one step outside the pub/club

babyboy would already be waiting in his car outside

the entire car ride home he would tell you to stop drinking so much

“y/n,,, why do you always do this,,, you know how bad it is for your health and im scared that you’ll hurt yourself on the way home”

meanwhile you dont understand anything, rolling in the backseat of the car.

when the two of you arrive home he immediately places you in a warm bath, rubbing your back as you almost fall asleep with your back against his chest.

worries a lot even though you’re fine

makes you breakfast in bed the day after :(((

Minho

complaining about everything ASHASH

he’s like mumbling underneath his breath, wondering why you’re so stupid and do this every time you go out drinking

much much MUCH rather prefers drinking with you alone

not only because he can control how much you’re drinking

but also because he likes seeing you tipsy?!?”!?

my brain is working rn u guys

its because he likes seeing this kinda,,, hidden flirty side of you that comes out when someone is tipsy

yk... the whole.. coming too close or laughing lazily at his jokes YK YK?

god im having such a difficult time to keep this fluffy AHSAHSH I THINK EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT I WANT TO SAY

he gets really soft with you because he knows that you probably wont remember anything SO HE CAN SHOW HIS SOFT SIDE

without you teasing him for it lol

he’d stroke your cheek with the back of his hand while your leaning against him on the couch, falling asleep in his arms.

he wraps a blanket around you and mumbles softly

“i love you y/n”

Changbin

he’d be just as drunk as you HASHHASHAH

the two of you would have to call chan because none of you can walk properly

ok but if it was only you being the drunk one then he’d know what to do

him speaking from experience that is 👀 👀 👀

removes your clothes (NOT LIKE THAT YOU FILTHY FUCK) and tucks you snuggly in bed, giving you a kiss on the forehead

might even remove your makeup if you’re wearing any

he notices a bunch of bruises on your legs, shaking his head at your clumsiness

makes a promise with himself to go with you next time

even though you would want to be with only your friends ahsahsh he doesnt give a shit about that

everything to keep you safe

doesnt want to see his precious baby hurt :((

Hyunjin

sweetheart that holds your hair/clothes back when puking :((

he pats your back gently as his face has a disgusted facial expression, loving you too much to leave you alone in the bathroom but feeling squeamish

“siri, how do you care for a drunk person?”

reads somewhere that you need to replenish water levels after puking and so he just starts bringing a whole pack of waterbottles in the bedroom

“if you need water during the night, it’s over here”

he’d try to leave the room, thinking that you’d maybe want some space when having the nausea from hell but you quietly whine which caught him off guard

“d-do you want me to stay?”

you nod and he smiles shyly, laying next to you and just looking at you sleeping??

he thinks you’re adorable :((

even if you’re a lot to handle when drunk

Jisung

ngl this mf laughing his ass off when you’re just blabbering random incoherent sentences

“who was your boyfriend now again?” “m-my squirrlll...” you reply, rubbing your face on his shoulder. “your squirrel? am i a squirrel?” you nod which makes his heart beat faster.

if you were to drink together bet your ass that he would be wrecked

probably even more drunk than you so... good luck

everytime you wanted to go out drinking with your friends he would try to persuade you to stay with him instead

“look y/n, staying and cuddling with me brings you both a cute boyfriend, take out and movies”

you shrug “doesnt bring my friends” you say putting on your shoes

“HEY! im your friend,,, your boyfriend!” he says back hugging you, dragging you to the couch, just laying down on top of you

“Jisung!! I’m gonna be late, move!”

“nope... we are cuddling tonight, remember what happened last time you went out drinking?”

you were reminded of you lying passed out infront of the apartment which scared the everliving shit out of jisung, thinking you were dead.

“noo....” you lie, smiling mischievously.

Felix

poor boy would let you sleep ahahshs

he’d tip toe around your apartment, trying to be as quieeeet as possible....

only knock down a whole fucking shelf of pans and pots

but a complete sweetheart that makes you food, knowing you’d be too tired to do it with a hangover.

do you know those jellies that can prevent hangovers??

yeah, you would find those in your bag

he wouldnt let you wear high heels because he’s scared of you falling over in them :(((

also if you go out he has to know at least one of your friends and have their phone number because NUH UH HE ISNT JUST LETTING YOU GO WITHOUT HIM KNOWING EVERYTHING

he cares,,, a lot and doesnt want to see you come home with scraped knees

because that happened,,,once?? or like maybe 10 times??

Seungmin

teasing youuuu

“weak, you barely finished a bottle”

take a bunch of pictures of you leaning against a telephone pole and then tease you for it the day after

NAH BUT WHEN YOUR REALLY DRUNK HE GETS SERIOUS

he carries you on his back, lowkey scared you’d puke on him BUT CARING NONETHELESS

you pass out on the bed, still dressed in your fancy clothes and he simply looks at you, admiring your features

if there’s anything you want, he will get it

“w-water” you groan and soon enough he returns with a glass of water

slowly sitting you up and stroking your hair, getting it out of your face.

“be more careful next time ok?”

you nod, not really understanding what he’s saying before pulling him down in bed with you, falling asleep with him in your arms.

Jeongin

he dont know what the fuck he’s doing

panic,,, sheer panic

he himself doesnt drink too much

maybe enough to feel tipsy but not DRUNK DRUNK

so when you stumble in through the door, your shoes in your hand and hair looking like a mess he gets scared HASASHAS

you fall down, scraping your knee in the hallway and he runs towards you and lifts you up, placing you down on the bed

then he’s like “....now what”

in panic calls chan that tells him to make you drink water and place a bucket nearby

he does just as he’s told but kinda scared to leave you alone in a room for too long, pulling down everything in the house to find a bucket

he removes your jacket and wraps you up in a blanket, snuggling real close to you as he slowly strokes your forehead, feeling you sweat a bit

DOESNT LEAVE YOU FOR A SECOND

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Permafrost: Chapter 1

Summary: After Virgil agrees to follow Roman into the Imagination, a shift in the weather and an unfortunate misstep sends Virgil plummeting into uncharted waters. If only it didn't take a matter of life or death and a race against time to realize the Prince might not hate him after all.

TW: Drowning, progressing hypothermia, effects of severe cold

Notes: Romantic Prinxiety (pre relationship, they’re pining idiots) Right now I think this will only be a couple chapters, but let me know if I should make a taglist for this story!

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“This is stupid,” Virgil said for the third time in the last ten minutes. “We’re gonna freeze to death.”

It was very clearly pissing Roman off, and if he wasn’t so miserable he’d be grinning like an idiot at the Prince’s clear exasperation. “We’re not going to freeze. Don’t be dramatic, Negative Nancy, that’s my thing.”

Virgil scoffed, glancing up at the expanse of snow covered trees towering overhead, branches bare and twisted, coated in sparkling white. It felt endless, everything around them perfectly identical and a little overwhelming.

He shuddered as the wind picked up again, drowning out anything he might have been about to say, and he absently shook off snow sticking to his shoes, really wishing he’d decided to wear his combat boots today.

Then again, he hadn’t expected to be trapped in the Imagination in below freezing weather.

“Let me complain, Princey,” he said, hoping that their familiar banter could make this whole thing suck a little bit less. “You’re the one that trapped me in here.”

“You’re the one that agreed to follow me,” Roman shot back, a little more sharp than Virgil had been hoping for. “You didn’t have to.”

“You invited me. And someone has to make sure you don’t get killed in here.”

“I’m perfectly capable,” Roman said. “The cold is no match for a dashing Prince! Besides, the beast is dead, my realm is perfectly safe when I need it to be- if it weren’t for someone refusing to enjoy the scenery, this might actually be a nice walk.”

“It’s freezing and we have to walk for another hour,” Virgil argued. “How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this?”

It hadn’t been snowing when they’d first stepped into the Imagination, some two hours ago now. It had been warm and sunny, the world around them lush and green, bright and inviting as Virgil followed Roman on his apparently routine adventure.

He hoped it hadn’t been obvious how excited he’d been when Roman had asked him to come along. He and the Prince had never been close, (that was putting it lightly, Virgil was all too aware of how much Roman hated Anxiety) but ever since Virgil had revealed his name things had been...better.

Not great, nowhere near perfect, but better. Their fights had started to devolve into banter, and Virgil found he actually enjoyed talking to Roman now. He wasn’t reduced to a villain anymore, and he’d never actually realized just how much he hated the tight feeling in his chest when Thomas had always dismissed him as the bad guy. He’d been pushing the hurt down for so long and now…

Now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time to focus on moving forward, as shaky as the progress was sometimes. It was still progress.

Virgil knew Roman didn’t like him, and he probably had no intention of even being real friends, any effort to be polite for Patton and Logan’s sake only.

Which Virgil might have been able to live with, if he hadn’t recently figured out that he really, really liked Roman.

He’d sort of...not actually hated the Prince for a while now, just another hopeless, gnawing feeling that drove him to consider ducking out in the first place.

The feelings had come out of nowhere, slowly sneaking up on him and only growing now that they were closer, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

The things Roman did that Virgil had once thought were annoying became...begrudgingly endearing. His rants, his dramatic gestures, the constant singing and humming under his breath...it was all so stupidly charming. Roman was funny and kind and passionate and brave and...and Virgil might have developed a little bit of a crush.

Dammit.

He knew nothing would come from it. He could be pretty stupid, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. Roman had declared him an enemy since day one, and Virgil was just beginning to hope the Prince might actually tolerate him enough to call him a friend. Just a friend.

But Roman had invited him into the Imagination today, to be an extra set of eyes while he slayed the monster patrolling the realm, and Virgil had agreed without a second thought. If he and Roman could just learn to coexist...Virgil didn’t need anything else. Anything was better than being hated.

And having Roman as a friend was far from the worst thing in the world. It still gave him the Prince’s smiles, his laughs, and his company.

That being said, trudging through the snow and freezing his ass off for the next hour was not how he’d like to be spending the day. Why couldn’t Princey invite him to do something normal like watching a movie?

“Aren’t you supposed to be Creativity?” Virgil called over the wind picking up. God, it was cold. “Why can’t you just change the weather back?”

Roman had his back to him, keeping a few paces ahead, but Virgil could practically feel his eye roll. “I don’t control the weather here. Thomas does.”

“Thomas?”

“Not intentionally,” Roman said. “When it’s snowing like this, it probably means he’s worried or…or stressed about something.”

Virgil didn’t miss the slight hesitation, the way Roman glanced back at him, and he instinctively hunched his shoulders and pulled his hood tighter around himself.

It wasn’t his fault. He knew everyone liked to point fingers and place the blame on Anxiety whenever Thomas wasn’t feeling his best, but Virgil wasn’t here to hurt him. He just wanted to help, and he’d been trying so hard to be better lately, but he still managed to be the bad guy.

He opened his mouth to mutter an apology the Prince would probably only scoff at, but Roman beat him to it.

“Ignore that,” he said quickly, tone suddenly nowhere near his usual bravado. “I didn’t mean to imply...nevermind. Sorry.”

It was clearly forced and a little desperate, just like it had been in front of the others whenever Roman would catch himself on an insult or a nickname, but Virgil found he appreciated the effort all the same. As awkward as it was.

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. “Seriously, it’s whatever. I’ll...I can check on Thomas when we get back.”

Roman didn’t respond, but he did look over once again to flash Virgil a genuine smile, and he forcibly pushed down the butterflies rising up in his chest. It was just Roman. He was not about to get flustered because Roman had smiled at him.

But maybe it was a sign that they were getting somewhere. Maybe-

“Shit!”

Virgil froze, Roman’s curse almost drowned out by the sudden CRACK that echoed through the snowy forest. A chunk of ice broke under Roman’s boot, just big enough for him to stumble, his leg disappearing up to his knee.

“God dammit that’s freezing!”

“I thought the cold didn’t bother you,” Virgil teased before he could stop himself. He moved to help, only for Roman to hold out a warning hand. “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The Prince wobbled a bit before he managed to pull his leg up and out of the ice, the soaked and dripping cloth clinging to his skin. “Except that my leg is going to fall off!”

Virgil couldn’t imagine how cold that must be, to feel icy cold wind against soaked clothes, but he could recognize that Roman wasn’t actually hurt or scared, despite the way he’d started shivering a bit. Thank god the water was only up to his knee.

“Stop panicking,” Virgil said, and smirked despite his own rising worry. “That’s my thing, Princey.”

Roman scoffed and shook out his leg, drops of water seeping into the plush white snow. The ice they hadn’t even realized they’d been walking on creaked under the movement and Virgil paled, eyes flying to Roman who quickly noticed the anxious side’s distress.

“Relax,” the Prince said. “It was just a weak spot, and it’s only a couple inches deep. I could reach the bottom.”

“We should still be worried about getting our clothes wet in this weather.” It seemed to have gotten colder, even as Virgil remained perfectly dry. “Didn’t Logan do a whole lecture about hypothermia a few years ago?”

“We’re not getting hypothermia, Panic at the Everywhere. Logan gives a lecture on everything. Worst case scenario is I come down with a little cold, and our dear Patton feels guilty and smothers me for a few days.”

Virgil laughed, carefully stepping around the hole Roman had created. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Patton’s fault you’re so clumsy.”

“No, but he practically forced me to bring you out here.” And just like that Virgil’s good mood was gone, stomach twisting uncomfortably as the words set in.

It shouldn’t be a surprise- of course Roman wouldn’t voluntarily spend the day with him. Patton wanted everyone to get along for Thomas’s sake, and he’d made Roman drag Virgil along like an unwanted nuisance.

“Oh.”

“So if we look miserable enough when we get back, we can coax Pat into making us cookies and hot chocolate,” Roman said, and he didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s shift in mood. “Just try to watch your step, ok?”

Roman clearly didn’t think he had said anything wrong, only scowling at his now soaking wet pant leg before turning to continue forward. He obviously thought Virgil knew this, that he wasn’t stupid enough to think he was actually wanted.

Well, at least Roman was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even if Virgil apparently was that stupid.

They kept walking, Virgil ending up trailing a bit behind with slightly numb hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets. Roman managed to make it even farther ahead, humming some vaguely familiar tune as he watched the snowfall, and Virgil wondered if he should just let the Prince make the rest of the walk by himself, kind of wanting to just lay down and let the snow bury him.

The wind was picking up, and Virgil was clearly finding it more difficult to trek through the snow than Roman was. The Prince didn’t seem inclined to leave him behind though, slowing down and smiling patiently at the anxious side every few moments, letting him catch up on his own time.

He wondered why Roman didn’t just quicken his pace and leave him. It wasn’t like Virgil would go tell Patton just to get him in trouble. As much as it hurt knowing Roman wanted nothing to do with him, that someone had to make Roman spend time with him, it hurt worse to think that the Prince had just been faking it.

He’d thought...God, he’d actually thought they might be getting somewhere. That maybe, maybe Virgil’s feelings for the Prince weren’t as pointless as they’d once been.

The soft little smiles sent his way, the light touches on Virgil’s back or shoulder, the quiet jokes meant just for him, the way Roman’s eyes would linger for just a second…

He noticed it a second too late, caught up in his own head instead of paying careful attention to where he was stepping like he usually would, only pulled from his thoughts by another ear splitting crack as a piece of ice gave way right where he’d stepped down.

It was sudden and loud, and Virgil yelped when he stumbled and fell to the ground, hands losing feeling completely as they grabbed at the snow and his foot disappeared under the ice.

“Fuck- Roman!”

He heard Roman laugh, but it was almost impossible to make out over the howling of the wind and the pounding of his own heart. The water was so cold, (thank god he’d managed to stop himself before it went past his shin) like a million little knives dancing along his skin, paying no mind to what little protection his clothes offered.

“You’re fine,” Roman called, voice small and distant like he’d kept walking. Virgil didn’t dare look up, eyes on the ground beneath his hands. “It’s not deep, Virge, you can stand up.”

Virgil nodded even though he doubted Roman could see it, his voice refusing to cooperate. He squeezed numb hands into shaky fists, took a breath, and pushed himself up to stand on his free leg.

The next moment happened so fast, Virgil didn’t even register that more ice had broken under his weight until he felt himself falling, and suddenly the icy cold water was much higher than just his leg.

It felt like he’d been hit by a bus- a very, very cold bus- and Virgil gasped as all the ice below him gave way, the water rising up to his chest, wrapping around his body like a vice and yanking him forward without warning.

It was like hundreds of frozen hands were grabbing at him and tugging viciously, shoving him along with the water’s surprisingly violent current while trying to drag him down below the dark surface. Virgil barely had half a second to force his arms to move, frantically reaching for the nearest chunk of intact ice.

He couldn’t feel his fingers, and his hands were shaking so bad he almost didn’t make it, but he managed to get a grip on the edge just in time.

He gasped as he pulled himself to a sudden stop against the relentless current, weakening arms protesting the sudden strain, choking and coughing on the frigid water that managed to lap at the corners of his mouth.

“Princey!” he tried to scream, but he could barely hear himself over the roar of the river. The water hurt, the cold seeping into his skin and stealing his breath, and it took all of his quickly fleeting energy to keep holding on. “Roman!”

There was no response, at least not one that Virgil could hear, and he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to see if help was coming, terrified that if he looked away from his hands he’d forget how to hold on.

He had to strain to keep his head above water, and he felt like there were boulders in his pockets weighing him down. He was left kicking desperately against the water, because it was definitely not shallow enough for him to stand.

Roman had said it was. Roman had laughed and kept walking and he’d...he hadn’t...he hadn’t left, had he? If he’d done this on purpose-

The dread and fear that came with the thought was almost more overwhelming than the thought of drowning, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as he tightened his hold, because Roman wouldn’t do that. He may not like Virgil, but he wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do this.

A grim voice in the back of his head told him Roman wouldn’t care, that Virgil would never be worth worrying about. Maybe it wasn’t the wind and rushing water blocking out the Prince’s voice...maybe he’d really just already walked away.

He choked back tears and put all his fading focus into staying above the water, the current’s pull growing stronger as his kicking became weaker and weaker. He couldn’t keep holding on. It was so cold and he was so tired-

“Virgil!”

Roman? It was so hard to tell for sure, everything distant and hazy compared to the roaring in his ears and his own too shallow breaths.

Oh god, he couldn’t hold on, he was slipping, he was going to fall-

“Virgil! Hold on, I’m coming!” Either that was Roman, or Virgil’s brain was being very cruel to him right before he died. The latter honestly seemed more likely. “Hold on, please just- I’m coming just hold on!”

He couldn’t feel his hands, barely able to comprehend anything around the all consuming pain settled around him like a blanket, leaving him shaking and numb, teeth chattering in his skull louder than a gunshot and he couldn’t do this- he couldn’t hold on he couldn’t-

“Virgil!”

Virgil didn’t even register what had happened, left only to wonder why the strain on his arms had suddenly been lessened for a single blissful second before realizing his frozen hands had slipped from the ice.

There wasn’t time to take another breath, the river seizing its opportunity to rise above his head and push him under the dark and freezing water, everything suddenly horribly silent.

#fanfiction #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #thomas sanders #sanders sides #hurt/comfort #this fic is so self indulgent you guys #writing

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holykillercake · 3 years

Text

Emergency Light

ᴋᴏʙʏ x ᴍᴀʀɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

word count: 2.6k

summary:

Female reader developed a crush on Koby since he stood up against Akainu in Marineford. Someday at a party at the marine´s, you get drunk, too drunk. Koby takes you to your room before a disaster happens. You two get stuck in the elevator while everyone is busy partying.

highlight: You wondered if they were training kamikaze marines now.

warning: 1. ¨Do not press random buttons.¨ - LAW, Trafalgar; 2. Trafalgar Law is not part of this story, but his wise words are worth of quotation.

notes: *knock knock* Hi, guys! After a terrible writing block, I finally finished @pure-kirarin´s lovely lovely request, which I used as summary since it was really good! I really hope you like it! <3 A little disclaimer! At some point, the ¨too drunk¨ part vanished from my brain, so our reader is just... drunk, hahaha.

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖!

¨Y/N-san!¨

You were wiping a sweat drop from your forehead when the pink-haired boy appeared beside you, offering an isotonic drink and a warm smile.

You did your best to hide the tiny heart attack you had.

¨Koby-san!¨ you shouted, smiling awkwardly. ¨Oh... is it for me?¨

¨Of course! You have been working really hard these days.¨

¨Thanks.¨ you took the drink from his hands. The heat and condensation caused a layer of cold sweat to wrap the bottle. ¨I just don´t know why they are making us help prepare this party. They have a team for this, Koby-san! Besides, we´re Captains now.¨ you pouted the last bit.

¨Yeah...¨ he scratched the back of his neck. ¨well, at least we get to spend some time together!¨

¨I know, I just-¨ you stopped talking as his words processed in your brain.

You felt your blood vessels dilating on your cheeks, leaving a hot sensation on your face.

Perhaps he was just being polite, or maybe you were making a big deal out of this, but you couldn´t help. You have been fond of him for a while now, and you couldn't stop that involuntary reaction of your body when he said such lovely things.

Koby realized the words that came out of his mouth, and the scene that followed made even your spirit giggle. His eyes opened wide, and you could almost feel his throat running dry with all his stuttering.

If that was a blushing competition, you would be down to the second place.

¨W-We´ve been on separate missions for ten months, right? I m-mean... and it´s not dangerous or anything, and-¨

¨Yeah, you´re right, Koby-san.¨ a smitten smile blossomed on your lips, and you tried to hide it by sipping the refreshing drink.

As stated by the boy, you had spent almost a year in different locations of the Grand Line, leading missions of your own. That was the kind of thing you had to do as promoted Captains.

You had no idea where Koby ended up going. These subjects could not be discussed over snail transponders, just for precaution. In fact, you barely spoke to him during this time. There were only a few nights when you would exchange coded messages.

Since you became Captains, your tasks have kept you apart for much longer than before. You couldn't help but miss him and wonder how he must be doing during those times.

You have already met thousands of Marines. Some even stronger and more agile than him, but no one had his willpower. You would put your hands on the fire for that.

Whenever you felt unmotivated or helpless, the memory of the boy standing up against Sakazuki, putting his life on the line to honor his fallen comrades made your blood burn hotter.

He did what no one else had the guts to do.

Too blinded by the bloodshed, in the end, the number of casualties made it clear that accomplishing the task was no reason to celebrate.

When the sole of your shoes stained with blood and the blade of your sword sliced through anyone who didn´t wear the justice symbol on their back, you questioned if the Marines had finally lost their purpose.

You should be civilized and do justice, but not at the expense of soldiers who had families to return to. If the target had already been eliminated, why were you still fighting?

A chill ran down your spine when, for the first time, you looked up and faced the massacre. It was as if before, you could look at everything and, at the same time, see nothing.

If Koby hadn´t stood up at that moment, you wouldn´t be here today. Maybe for leaving, maybe for dying. But his act of braveness and courage returned a bit of your hope.

You wanted to see how far he could go, and hopefully, you would be by his side.

Before, you used to watch him, along with his colleague Helmeppo, getting beat up and beat up by Garp and always put himself back on his feet.

You wondered if they were training kamikaze marines now.

From your room, you had a perfect view of the training circuit, so you could see the cycle repeating itself over and over again. Boys, seduced by the idea of absolute justice, strength, and power to fight bad guys, came to Marineford willing to prove their worth. They would fall a few times before the sparkle in their eyes started to fade.

Eventually, they would fade too.

Those boys, however, fell and fell, being punched to a pulp, then patched back together only to suffer on Garp´s hands again. Watching them became your late-night entertainment, and seeing their improvements and growth turned out to warm your heart.

At some point, you were assigned to be their opponent, and from that moment on, your days became brighter. They would share the craziest stories and tell the funniest jokes. Or not so much tell jokes. They were naturally clumsy and fun.

Although, if you could choose, you would prefer to spend more time with Koby. Nothing against Helmeppo, he was just too much sometimes. But apparently, they came in a two-for-one pack.

***

It has been only a few hours since the party started and you reached the jackpot. You had taken all your frustrations on alcohol and rice cakes, and it showed.

Every ten seconds, the memory of what you wanted to do disappeared, and that was somehow hilarious, making you explode in laughter and cause commotions. So for every ten seconds during the first hours, one of the last remaining sober in the enclosure had tiny cardiac arrests.

Everyone was drunk enough to have a good time without causing any trouble. But the detail worth mentioning was that your party had started a little earlier, under the statement that you needed a little incentive to help you through the night.

It meant that your energetically loud phase was close to reaching its end, giving place for your sleepy and distracted persona. Your eyes felt heavier by the second, light dizziness fogging your brain, but it felt relaxing.

¨You know Koby is a type of meat?¨ you said, resting your chin on the table and giggling to yourself.

¨Y/N-san, I-I don´t think that´s the name of it.¨ his face turned red as he shifted on the cushion, adjusting his posture.

¨Ugh, you´re so nervous Koby, you should relax.¨ you sang the last syllable. ¨Look at Meppo, he´s relaxing.¨

Your lips bent in a goofy smile as you watched your comrades building an okaki tower on Helmeppo´s head. The blonde had passed out on the table a few minutes earlier, too exhausted and drunk. He looked so peaceful in his sleep that a yawn escaped your mouth, catching Koby´s attention.

¨Y/N-san, you should go to bed already. Y-You look tired.¨ his voice trembled when he took sight of your sparkling but sleepy eyes, rosy face, and messy hair.

¨Hmm, no... I´m still good.¨

Another yawn.

¨Come, I can walk you to your room before you relax like Helmeppo.¨

Your brain was working in slow motion, so by the time you thought of answering him, your grip was already tight in his. A little tighter than necessary, but you were afraid your wobbly legs would cease, and honestly, he didn't object at all.

The air outside the salon made your nostrils hurt within every breath, not because it was freezing cold but because the alcohol made your body run hotter than usual. Your ears felt like they were clogged, but that was merely the tingling silence on the empty hall.

When he guided you inside of the elevator and pressed the corresponding button to your floor, your gasp, which echoed through the narrow walls, made Koby jump back, scanning for any sign of danger.

¨Oh my God, look at this, Koby!¨

He watched you walk closer to the panel, completely mesmerized. ¨Uh... what, Y/N-san?¨

¨Wow! They never did this before!¨ you shouted, falling on your knees and leaning in like a child on an ice cream shop showcase.

The boy kept staring at you, who pressed the buttons in a row with shimmering eyes. What was in that saké?

¨They never did...?¨

¨Look!¨ you clicked some more. ¨When I press the buttons... they light up!¨

A moment of silence fell upon the two of you, and although Koby always felt comfortable in your presence, he wasn´t sure what to do now.

You, on the other hand, didn´t seem to mind, too focused on your groundbreaking discovery.

¨Y/N-san, they have always...¨

¨This is so cool!¨

¨Y/N-san... I don´t think you should...¨

¨What does this one do-¨

A loud shriek escaped your mouth when the shaking of the elevator took you off balance, making your butt meet the floor in a thump. The lights flashed a few times before everything in your sight was pitch black.

You heard Koby call your name, asking if you were hurt, but all you could do was hold still, fearing for your life. The alcohol made the bouncing feel like a devastating earthquake.

¨Y/N-san!¨ you felt light pats on your shoes. ¨Are you ok? I can´t see anything!¨

Koby crawled on the floor, using your foot as a way to locate you.

¨Koby, stop moving.¨ you whispered, but he seemed not to hear, lost in his rumbles. ¨Koby, stop moving!. We´re going to fall.¨

¨Wh-no! Y/N-san, are you hurt?¨

¨No, I don´t think so.¨ you answered, head swirling and heart racing in your chest.

¨Y/N-san, did you press the emergency button?¨

¨No!¨ you stopped for a second, failing to hold your drunken giggles for yourself. ¨But that´d be a great idea right now. I think I remember where it is!¨

You twisted your body towards the panel, ignoring Koby´s attempts to stop you, and started to touch the many buttons, searching for the emergency one.

Click.

Click, click, click.

¨It´s not worki-¨ you squealed when the elevator struck again, piercing sound of creaking metal cooling every disc in your spine.

¨Y/N-san, please stop pressing the buttons!¨ Koby cried.

The feeling was too strange. You felt everything rocking slightly, no light was coming in, and the adrenaline made it difficult for you to calm down and adapt to the darkness.

Your breathing had already become irregular and heavier when the emergency light turned on. It was dim and greenish but better than nothing.

¨Oh, no.¨ he said.

¨No, no. Don´t say oh, no.¨ You shook your head.

¨Y/N-san, that´s the emergency light.¨

¨Yeah, so...?¨

¨So the elevators are not a priority now.¨

¨And that´s bad...?¨

¨Well, yes, because the energy is being used somewhere else.¨

You stared at him for a few seconds. All of his words made total sense, and in a normal situation, you would be able to handle it without further complications.

¨Koby, I don´t know if you´re getting somewhere...¨

¨Y/N-san, there was probably a problem with the generators, and they had to redirect the energy consumption.¨ you nodded, starting to connect some dots in your head. ¨I think they are sending everything to the kitchen beca-¨

¨Wait.¨ you said with a terrified expression painted all over your face. ¨We´re stuck?¨

He saw the panic grow in your eyes.

¨Y-Yes. B-But it should be back soon, don´t worry. Someone will come.¨

You remained in silence for the first hour, mainly because you kept falling asleep.

Little by little, the effects of the alcohol on your body began to cease and your temperature to cool down. Added to that, the darker the night fell, the chillier it got. So at some point, you couldn´t sleep anymore because your bones wouldn´t stop shivering.

Koby handed you his coat as soon as he took notice of your discomfort.

¨No, you don´t have to-¨

¨Y/N-san, you´ll end up getting sick.¨ he spoke, leaning a bit forward so you could take the piece of clothing.

¨Thanks.¨

A huge smile rose on your lips when the coat fell on your shoulders. It was incredibly warm and had his soothing laundry fresh smell.

Maybe with a hint of meat from the party.

It served you like a cape, so you pulled the collars closer to your body and curled up to retain the warmth. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel like it was him.

That granted you another nap.

Still, after about twenty minutes, something woke you up. This time it was a sneeze from Koby, who leaned against the wall, hugging his legs close to his body.

Guilt hit you right in the guts.

You crawled towards him, gently poking his leg.

¨Koby-san...¨

He raised his head and mumbled something you didn't understand. Maybe he asked if you were ok.

¨I... I´m still a little cold... c-can I sit by your side?¨

¨Uh? Yes, of course.¨ he shifted on the same spot, only to return to the previous position.

His voice was a little nasal and rasped, probably from the cold. You hoped he wouldn´t get a sore throat.

The coat became a blanket that you used to cover both of your legs, although he made sure you had gotten the bottom end since it had more fabric.

¨Are you feeling better, Y/N-san?¨

¨I am, thank you.¨ you whispered.

¨Y-You can lay on my shoulder... if you want.¨

You smiled and did as he suggested, curling up closer to him. It took you very little to fall asleep once you rested your head on his shoulder. His body began to feel warmer, and he even asked if you wanted to hook your arm with his to maintain warmth.

Using the last bit of boldness provided by the saké, you reached for his hand. You had this sensation, deep down, that the feelings you carried for him were reciprocated. But you could deal with this some other time. For now, you focused on calming down the fireworks inside of your chest.

[EXTRA SCENE]

A roaring noise followed by a ray of light fished you out of whatever dreams you were having. You pulled the blanket up to cover your eyes and snuggled deeper into the warm body in front of you.

Nothing crossed his mind at that moment. All you wanted to do was get rid of the light and have a few more hours to sleep. However, a sound like a throat clearing caught your attention.

You blinked a few times, images of last night taking form in your memory. The last thing you remembered before blacking out was you leaning against Koby.

I must have slipped to the floor at some point.

Your hands were wrapped in a turquoise fabric, and it didn't take long for you to realize that the fabric was wrapped around someone.

Koby's scarf.

Koby!

You ended up lying in front of each other, sharing his uniform. Your face a few centimeters from his chest.

After yawning a couple of times, you opened a distance to look at him.

His face was wrinkled, brows furrowed, and lips turned into a pout. The round glasses were no longer on his head, and the bandana, like his hair, was frowzy.

So adorable.

A louder throat clearing made you turn your head. The groggy smile on your lips disappeared instantly with the image of the elevator repairer, Garp, and dozens of other marines staring at the two of you.

#one piece #oneshot #opfanfic #Marines #Koby #koby x reader #coby?#sakazuki #sengoku #monkey d garp #helmeppo

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vixenpen · 3 years

Note

Dabi smut with a teacher. Like in some quirkless au or something (He’s scarless but hella pierced and tatted), he had to pick up kid!Shoto one day and he sees his hot black teacher (Sis got thickness and curves for days, even in simple clothes) So he consistently picks up Shoto (even when he doesn’t have to) just to hit on her and when he finally scores a date with her, he’s at his limit after seeing her in casual wear and how amazing her personality is.

I LOVED this request. I had so much fun writing it and the details were amazing! I hope you enjoy

Hot For Teacher (Dabi x Black Reader) Quirkless AU

“Ah, come on kid,” Dabi sighed, expelling a stream of smoke as he waited at the curb for his baby brother to get out of school.

He rolled down the window to air out the car and watched the stream of middle schoolers burst through the double doors and head to their respective busses or cars.

“Shooo,” Dabi groaned, “where are you? I got shit to do, kid.”

He enjoyed hanging out with his youngest sibling, and he had no problem picking the kid up, but he also had a business to help run. If he didn’t get back to the shop in an hour and a half like he’d promised Hawks, he’d get an earful about responsibility and time management and blah, blah, blah.

He leaned back in the driver seat, deciding to give Shoto another fifteen minutes before he texted the kid.

Just then another wave of kids exited the building, Dabi’s bright blue eyes scanned them before landing on the finest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

Her cream colored silk blouse popped beautifully against her rich brown skin and a pair of slacks hugged her wide hips. Her makeup made her dark eyes sparkle and red lipstick painted her pouty mouth.

Dabi sat up, turquoise eyes running up and down that beautiful body of hers as the sexy teacher strutted past to talk to parents and wave good bye to students. When she turned around, his eyes slid down to the fattest ass he’d ever seen and he licked his lips.

Damn it must be hard as hell for her students to concentrate in class.

She turned again and began walking back towards the school. Fuck! If he didn’t stop gawking he would miss his chance. He couldn’t let that happen.

Holding his cigarette between his lips, Dabi quickly stepped out of the car and took leggy strides to catch up with the teacher.

“Excuse me.”

She turned around, her big dark eyes landing on him. Immediately Dabi knew she was sizing him up and wasn’t impressed. She gave that same disapproving teacher look Fuyumi gave whenever she was put off by someone.

Regardless, he flashed her his most charming smile. He may not be a goody two shoes like these other khaki wearing dads out here, but he knew he looked damn better than any of them.

“Sorry to bother you ma’am. I was just hoping you could help me out.”

“Sure,” she smiled back, showing off a pair of pretty white teeth. “Let’s start with that cigarette. It’s against our school policy to be smoking on the premises so if you could.” She cocked a brow expectantly.

Dabi cocked his own pierced brow back in response, but quickly stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby janitor’s cart and threw it away in the accompanying trash can.

Her smile widened. “Great. Now, how can I help you?”

Dabi chuckled. “Well, ya see, I just got this new phone and cleared out all my old contacts. Ya know, new year, new me and all that,” he shrugged, “anyway, my contacts are pretty empty now. So, I was wondering if I could get yours.”

She let out a little snort of amusement.

“That’s your pick up line? How many Girls have had the misfortune of hearing that one?”

“You’d be the first,” Dabi smirked back. “Figured the usual ‘hey beautiful, what’s your name’ line wouldn’t exactly help me stand out.”

“Trust me, you don’t need help standing out.” She replied, eying him again.

“Then that means I’m ahead of the game, right?” He held out a hand, “I’m Dabi.”

Tentatively, the teacher shook it. “Ms. Y/n.”

“Ms. Y/n, huh...” Dabi repeated slowly, his eyes ran over you with a barely masked longing. “Not ‘Mrs’?”

“Not yet.” You replied.

“How soon are you looking to change that?” Dabi asked, his smirk growing a bit smaller and more intimate.

“Who said I was looking to change it at all?”

“Certainly not me,” he replied, “that’s why I asked. I would love to talk more about how much you don’t want to change it over dinner sometime though.”

You fended off a smile. You were not about to give this over confident asshole any encouragement.

“Sorry, but I make it a point not to date my student’s parents.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a parent then.”

“Oh? So you just like to stroll on the campuses of random middle schools and hit on the teachers for fun?”

Dabi chuckled again.

“I’m here to pick up my little brother. Ah, hell, speaking of which, I actually could use your help with that. Kid hasn’t come out yet and I’ve already been here over half an hour.”

Your pretty face immediately crumpled with worry.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Todoroki Shoto.”

“Oh!” You looked surprised. “Shoto. I think I saw him headed towards the baseball field. I think the team has practice today.”

“Dammit! Really? Well, I better go say hi to the kid anyway. You mind, uh, leading the way?”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

Turning, you took the lead and guided Dabi towards the baseball diamond behind the school. You could feel the man’s eyes on your ass the whole way, and couldn’t help but put an extra switch in your hips as you did. Much to his appreciation.

You had to admit the man was fine as hell. The black undercut with lines cut in the side, his multiple piercings and even the colorful tattoos you saw peeking from under his fitted black tshirt were hot as hell. However, you had long since given up on bad boy types. You preferred nerds. Still a little light flirting wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

“There he is.” Dabi stated once the two of you verged on the field. He held up his hands to his mouth and called out: “Yo, Sho!”

The boy looked up, heterochromatic eyes widening in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had practice today you little half and half?”

“Why don’t you ever check mom’s texts?” Shoto shouted back. “She told you to come later.”

You snickered as Dabi pulled out his phone and checked his text messages.

“Huh. Well I’ll be damned.” He muttered to himself. “Alright, kiddo, I’ll be back in an hour!”

“Can you stop shouting and leave now?! I have to concentrate.”

Dabi laughed before turning back to you.

“Anyway, thanks a lot for your help Ms. Y/n.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Still, I would love to thank you properly. Maybe over coffee.” He said, sounding hopeful.

“Before it was dinner.” You quipped, playfully.

“I know. I‘m just planning for future dates.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It was nice meeting you, Dabi.” With that you turned and strutted off.

“I hope you know I’m gonna keep trying until I get a yes or no.” He called after you.

As you entered the school’s back entrance you could hear Shoto shouting: “Can you please stop hitting on my teachers? I have to see them everyday!”

Unfortunately for Shoto, his plea seemed to go in one overly pierced ear and out the other because almost everyday since then, Dabi made it a point to stop and talk to you when he came to pick up Shoto.

“Hey there, Ms. Y/n. My contacts are filling up fast. You sure you don’t wanna reserve a spot?”

“Sorry Dabi, but my no dating policy extends to immediate family members as well.”

“I hated to cancel our reservations, but you’re left me no choice, Ms. Y/n.”

“Nobody told you to make reservations, Dabi.”

“Dinner was lonely the other day. If only I had a beautiful black queen to keep me company.”

“I’m sure There are plenty of black queens out there that would have loved to accompanying you to dinner.”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have been you.”

Dabi was unrelenting. Always complimenting how amazing your outfits looked on your skin tone, how flattering your make up was, or if you wore a new hairstyle or new jewelry.

You couldn’t lie. The attention was both flattering and refreshing. Since becoming a teacher, you usually only got hit on by studious academic types. Attractive yes, but straight laced and all the same with their game

Unfortunately a disturbing amount of married dads also tried their luck with you.

But Dabi was different.

He may have been a far cry from your usual type, but he was always perfectly respectful and even funny. Not to mention he was much closer to your own age than other men that came on to you.

He must have started bribing Shoto for help or asking him about your interests too. Because sometimes when he would see you, he’d have a new book to give you or your favorite iced tea from a cafe you always frequented. Which, admittedly, was pretty damn cute.

The tatted up alt boy was actually growing on you. So one day, when both of you least expected it, you finally agreed to give him your number and go on a date.

That was the first time you ever saw him straight up smile. Not smirk or grin. He actually beamed. Just like a little boy who’d been told he could have a puppy.

Ok, ok. You admit it—he was cute.

Hopefully, that charm would extend over to dinner.

When the big date came, Dabi cleaned himself up. Opting out of his usual dark attire for a deep blue fitted Ralph Lauren polo and skinny khakis. He even took out some of his piercings in an attempt to look more presentable. He thought he cleaned up pretty nice if he did say so himself, but it was nothing compared to what you strutted in wearing.

Dabi had gotten used to your stylish but conservative work attire. He was so used to your hot teacher look, that he forgot you probably had some regular clothes in that amazing wardrobe of yours.

And damn did you pick out the most show stopping dress you had. You wore a wine colored dress that cut low in the front showing off those juicy tits of yours and stopped above the knee. The heels you wore made your thighs look even yummier and your ass was jiggling out of control with every step.

Down boy. Down boy. Down boy.

He scolded himself.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely, Dabi?” You teased.

“I’m Touya tonight, beautiful.” He struck a pose like a GQ model. You laughed. “Dabi was that guy that kept hitting on you, Touya’s the guy that’s gonna try not to screw it up.

“Oh,” you ran a manicured finger along his solid chest, “well, I agreed to a date with Dabi, but I guess Touya could be fun too.”

Dabi licked his lip, and your eyes fell on his tongue piercing, hungrily.

“Depending on how well the night goes, you might see Dabi come out later tonight.” He replied, suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, but could feel your cheeks (and your pussy) warming.

“Boy! Come on.”

Dabi as Touya opened the door to the restaurant and ushered you inside.

The restaurant he took you to was definitely a high end place; complete with soft candle light, a jazz quartet, and a maître d’.

The chemistry the two of you had definitely translated over dinner.

Dabi was just as funny as he always was and he was genuinely interested in getting to know everything about you. He hung on to your every word about the funny things your students did in class. He enjoyed hearing your college stories. He even knew some of the books you enjoyed reading and could talk literature easily.

You discovered that he was the co-owner of a tattoo and piercing shop. He was the oldest of his siblings. And he enjoyed traveling and learning new things.

Dabi enjoyed vibing with you. He loved that your personality and sense of humor was just as amazing and substantial as that body he wanted a piece of so bad.

Dinner rolled into drinks and lasted well into the night. By the time the two of you were done it was damn near four A.M.

From that night on, you and Dabi became practically inseparable. He picked you up from school right along with Shoto for dinner after work, swung by with coffee, bought you any and everything you wanted (he does come from money after all) and after a year of dating, you became more than just a ‘Ms.’

Pt.2

#dabi x black!reader #dabi x reader #flirting #first dates #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha #bnha scenarios #my hero fanfic #bnha headcanons #dabi scenarios #touya todoroki #mha headcanons #black writers #curvy reader

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luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

Old Money

In which Sherlock tells you something you’ve wanted to hear for a long time. Or, the one where reader reads auras and as always with Sherlock, things are never as they seem. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

Cursing under your breath at the weather, you pushed the door to 221b open and found solace in the warmth of the building. You didn’t think you’d ever get use to the dreary London winters. Today had been terribly long and as much as you wanted to be in your bed watching Iron Man with last night’s reheated takeaway, Sherlock had texted you saying he needed your help with some experiment and John just wasn’t capable of helping him. You almost said no but the thought of passing up time with Sherlock was unbearable, even if you were just a guinea pig for him to test on. ‘Yeah”, you thought to yourself, ‘I’m down bad’. Doing your best to shake off the snow and fatigue, you made your way to the stairs but stopped at the bottom when you heard a soft melody coming from the second floor. Tilting your head to the side, you furrowed your brows and tried to hone in on the sound. It didn’t sound like a violin so it couldn’t be Sherlock playing. It wasn’t often that he cared to listen to music besides his own so it must be part of his experiment, you thought. You carried on, moments later finding yourself in the doorway when you noticed it.

It was like you were seeing the world through rose colored glasses. Everything was cast in a soft pink glow that made it all seem so delicate and precious that you knew you had to commit this feeling to memory in the chance that nothing in your life brought this shade to you again. Sherlock stood with his back towards you, arms taut behind his back with his hands folded neatly. He gazed out at the busy London street beneath his home and seemed lost in a trance of his own. Music was playing from his laptop and it really brought everything together. You wondered what he would say if he could see it, if he could see how he made the world look for you. You wondered what he must’ve been feeling to project it as beautifully as this. Dragging your eyes away from the skull on the mantle that was illuminated by the pink in a way that almost seemed romantic, you looked back at the man of your every hour.

He was absolutely perfect and that was something you had never been more sure of. You let yourself lean against the door frame to admire him completely. You knew you didn’t look at your other friends like that and while that should have scared you, it didn’t. You loved Sherlock for what he was, everything he was, and if he never returned any affection for you— you would still love him the same. You had the time of your life fighting dragons with him and you could only hope you expressed that to him in a way he could understand. The corner of Sherlock’s lips twitched as he spoke, bringing you back to him. It seemed that was something you did for each other often. “You’re staring, you know. If you stared any harder I’m afraid I’d feel it in my chest.” He was still looking out the window and you hadn’t been sure prior if he knew you were there at all. If it was anyone else, they would have missed the humor in his words. Luckily for you, you could hear him smiling. You were sure it was as lovely as it sounded.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t. “What did you need help with?”

Sherlock finally turned to face you, fingers playing with the cuffs of his sleeve as he made to roll them up. He walked towards the kitchen and you followed, shrugging your coat off onto the back of John’s chair. “I need to ask you something. And you must be honest with me or it will be for naught.” He leaned against the dining table, one handing holding his elbow up and the other brought up to his lips. He was studying you in the way he thought was less obvious than pyramiding his fingers but you were well aware of the detective’s tells.

You moved to lean against the counter across from him. The tips of your shoes were almost touching. “Okay, shoot.”

Shifting under the weight of his suddenly intense stare, you followed as his eyes moved from your head down as if you were wearing the answer he was looking for. While he was searching, you had happened to notice that the pink that seemed to envelop everything in his flat wasn’t touching him. Hell, your white scrub top looked like it had gotten mixed in with the reds in the wash. But there Sherlock was, unaffected by the light he was supposedly giving off. How strange, you thought.

Before you could fully register what was happening, Sherlock had stepped into your space and left you pinned between him and the kitchen counter. He was still looking at you like that and you could feel blush rise up your neck and onto your cheeks. That seemed to have caught his eye as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear to get a better view.

“Why is it that whenever I call for you... you never deny me?” Eyes still fixated on your cheek, he brought a hand up and brushed the back of his fingers along your jaw. His other arm still rested on the countertop next to you and his legs on either side of yours.

Your eyes widened at his question. You had no way of explaining why in a way that would both satisfy him and protect you. You stayed silent as he tilted your jaw back with his knuckles and moved to cup your cheek with his palm. He moved to do the same on the other side, taking his time as if the act itself was sacred. His lips parted into a silent ‘oh’ as if he was drinking in your movement and analyzing your every reaction.

“Sherlock,” you croaked, not sure if it came out as whine, plea, or prayer. It was all too much- his hands on your face holding you close to him, your knees knocking together, and if you moved just a little closer you were sure your noses would touch. “Y/N, why?” He urged. He was going to have your answer whether you thought you were capable of giving it to him or not. The air was so thick you thought you were going to choke. “Why do you always come when I call?” His breath was fanning your lips and you had to swallow the involuntary moan that nearly slipped out. You brought your hands to his wrists and held onto him, initially to feel him but you ended up using him to hold yourself steady. “I love you.” You murmured, eyes closed. You couldn’t see his reaction. You squeezed his wrists as you spoke and hoped he understood your silent apology. You were going to ruin your friendship and you were so sorry. “I always come when you call for me because I love you. I love you so much it hurts my head.” Like a faucet, the words slipped through your mouth and dug you deeper and deeper into a hole you never wanted to be in. You closed your eyes tighter than before and tried to keep the oncoming tears at bay. “I love you in the morning when we’ve been at Bart’s all night looking into microscopes and even when my eyes are sore and I’m exhausted, I see you and I know I love you. I love you when I’m scared because you’re chasing some criminal down the streets of London and you have no idea if they have a GUN and I love you even more when come back to me and tell me that ‘I’m stupid for worrying’ because you always outsmart them. I love you when you let me make you tea, or you ask me to cook for you, because I love taking care of you-“ Before you really made him uncomfortable, you forced yourself to stop. Taking in a deep breath and moving your head up to look at him once more, you searched his face for some sort of response. You bared your heart out and you only hoped that he’d still allow you to be friends even after knowing how you truly felt about him. Moments had passed and you still stood there, with his hands still on your cheeks and his eyes roaming your face for something that he still hadn’t found. You needed him to say something. To let you apologize, to tell you that it could be forgotten, that you didn’t ruin everything. “Sherlock?” You whispered, hoping to bring him back to you. “Please say something. Anything.” Your heart was racing and the tears had stopped but you knew it wouldn’t take much for them to start again. You didn’t mean to ruin this. Sherlock blinked and it almost looked like he had returned to his body after being somewhere far away. His hands never left you as he moved them from your cheeks to lock them in your hair. He lips ghosted your cheek as the moved towards your ear and just as he opened his mouth to finally respond- BZZZZZZT. BZZZZZT. BZZZZZT. You pulled back from him in confusion, trying to make sense of what just happened. He was staring at you so intensely you thought he was looking straight into your soul. “What did you just say?” He opened his mouth again and started to speak but all that came out was-

BZZZZZZT. BZZZZZZZT. BZZZZZT.

Your eyes shot open and you pushed yourself up as you looked around your dark apartment trying to make sense of what just happened. There was no glow, you weren’t on Baker street, you weren’t with Sherlock, and you hadn’t ruined everything. Your breathing was labored and you had felt so much emotional whiplash from that dream that you thought about checking to see if this one was a dream, too. You looked to your nightstand where your phone had been vibrating non-stop and went to reach for it.

“You weren’t answering my texts.” Before you could even say hello, Sherlock’s voice rang without missing a beat. You pulled your phone back to check the time. “Sherlock, it’s 3:18 in the morning. I was sleeping.” Your voice was still ladened with sleep and you weren’t even sure that you trusted yourself to speak with the real detective since it didn’t go so well with the dream one.

“Nevermind that. I need you to meet me at Bart’s. There’s been a murder and Molly can get us a look at the body before she does her paperwork if we get there now.” Sherlock sounded like he had been wide awake, and you could faintly hear him shrugging on his jacket in the background.

You thought about your dream and how you had been so afraid that you had lost everything by confessing. You were ready to beg for it to be forgotten and thrown under the bridge so that you would never have to go a day missing these calls. In Sherlock’s own way, he was telling you how much he needed you. The more you thought about it, he could have easily called John who was a floor above him or even Lestrade, who could have cut a lot of corners in getting him the information and access he needed for the case. But he called you. You glanced at the clock. You had work at 8:00, but if you and Sherlock got there by 4:30 you would more than likely be out by 7:00 and you could grab coffee with Sherlock as he walked you to your shift.

“Well?” He insisted. You could tell he was growing impatient, but you swore he had sounded hopeful and whether that was the sleep deprivation talking or the love sickness, you had decided right then. Who were you to keep the brilliant Sherlock Holmes waiting?

“I’m on my way.” Click.

#bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes fanfiction #reader insert #sherlock holmes #benedict cumberbatch #john watson #bbc sherlock #sherlock #fanfic #writing #luxwrites

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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

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Indebted

Day 8 of Matsuhana week: Yakuza

Summary: Left with his father’s debts, Hanamaki decides to not pay back the dangerous Yakuza boss until he’s on his knees before the man himself.

Warnings: mafia/yakuza business, threatening letters (not into much detail), minor character death (by cancer), tranquilizer gun, kidnapping, age gap, fingering, Virgin!Hanamaki, bit of corruption kink, lube, no condom, creampie

“Why does he have so much junk?” He groans, looking through another box. “Who’d have known the old man had so much stuff to hide?”

Hanamaki was digging through his ill father’s belongings. His mother was currently at the hospital while the nurses caught her up on the situation, but it wasn’t looking good. The cancer had spread to his brain, signaling his end was near. His mother, however, decided to dig into their limited money supply to see if it could be fixed, leaving them with same amount of money before his father got that new job about 10 years ago. So, Hanamaki thought he could sell some items to get extra cash.

Oh, he wasn’t planning on sharing it.

His mother had taken plenty of money he could have used for college, as well as moving out. Even now, she refused to see that her husband was a lost cause and keep the money to use on her son, but no. She’ll get all the life insurance money, as well, so it’s not like she’s in desperate need of cash. Hanamaki, on the other hand, could barely eat and make ends meet when he worked at a nearby pizza restaurant. The answer, and his reasonings, were clear.

Digging through a box he found under the bed, Hanamaki’s face changes drastically as he opens the box to find money. Wads of paper bills that could set him up for the next year, honestly. However, as he takes the money, he finds a note underneath it. Curious as ever, he decides to read it.

“50,000 yen for the Boss” is all it reads, making him tilt his head. However, more digging through the box makes him realize his dad was not just hoarding money, but rather keeping the money and giving it to this.. Boss guy. A part of Hanamaki told him it was bad news, but the other part of him needed money.

Pocketing the cash and grabbing any antiques, he left the room and never looked back.

Three days later, a proper ceremony was in place for Hanamaki’s father, who finally succumbed to the cancer eating him and left behind a widow and a son. Hanamaki’s mother was incessant on a proper burial, despite the money necessary for it. Condolence money would be given, but that money was hardly enough for someone to have a proper ceremony. Hanamaki may have spent most of his time picking bones and putting them in the urn, but he wasn’t going with his mother and uncle to the family grave, instead going back to his car.

A cheap, old car that needed a lot of money to be back into good working order, but Hanamaki liked how reliable it was. It may creak and sigh and he can’t go too fast, but he’s always to work on time and never wastes money sprucing it up. Getting to the car, however, Hanamaki saw something under his wiper. A note, most likely.

“Who-“ he sputtered, looking around the empty parking lot. He wasn’t parked illegally, nor was he in a special spot, so he wonders who left it. Reading it made him wish he didn’t.

“To the young Hanamaki Takahiro, in the wake of your father’s passing, you are to take on full responsibility and pay back his accumulated debt. Sincerely, Seijoh Family.”

Hanamaki was no idiot. He may have been able to forget about the notes and letters and the money, but he couldn’t as his eyes ran over the inked words. The Seijoh Family was a yakuza family that was well known for helping those down on their luck, as long as you could pay them back when your luck turned around. It suddenly made sense.

The lack of money and his always empty stomach, the fighting between his parents, all of it suddenly changed within a couple of days with a new promotion. Hanamaki went from eating small quantities to large ones, his house went from a small one to a nice and big one. Everything got better, but then everything got worse. It was more of a middle ground, honestly, but he could feel it slipping. His father had gotten everything he wanted and then suddenly, he needed to pay back the money he was loaned. And now, with his cremated remains in an urn, Hanamaki would be taking up his father’s debts.

Although the message scares Hanamaki, he can’t afford to let it control him. He has to go back to work and prepare for college classes soon. He can’t be worried about some creepy guy planning to kill him because he’s struggling. Even as he tells himself that, the next couple of days has him putting tips into a jar in his kitchen, sliding it under the sink and out of his sight. The money he took from his father was 10x what he makes in a week, making him worried that he’ll never be able to pay back the sum of debt.

With the dread of something bad about to happen, Hanamaki decides to push the thought away, hoping a gooey cheeseburger and soda can take the feeling away. With his dinner, a movie will be enough to take his mind off of everything. As soon as he sits down, though, he gets a wiggling doorknob. Hoping it’s someone trying to get into the wrong apartment, he waits for it to stop. When it does, he relaxes once more, only to then fly out of his seat when two people walk through the door.

They’re big, despite Hanamaki having some muscle on him. Big and dressed in dark clothing, wearing protective layers on their face so he can’t get a proper look at them. He’s quick enough to try to get away, hopping over the couch to reach the balcony when one of the guys shoots him with something. Face planting on the floor in front of the window, the last thing Hanamaki sees is the guy pull out a cell phone.

When Hanamaki comes to, the first thing he notices is the hushed whispers and he’s draped over something — or someone. His arms feel like jelly, but his eyes slowly open to reveal a corridor, dimly lit as the same two guys, he thinks, walking behind him. He’s momentarily startled awake by them, but he realizes he soon has other worries when he notices he’s entered a big room, the door shutting loudly behind him.

“Is this the one?”

“Yes sir,” one of them answers. Hanamaki is then placed down on his knees in front of the other person in the room. A glance is all Hanamaki is blessed with before his head is shoved down, almost into the floor by the guy behind him. “Head down,” he sternly says.

“Now, now. We mustn’t hurt him too badly. How else will I get my money back?” The man says, the chair underneath him creaking as he leans forward. With his head no longer forced down, Hanamaki takes another chance to look up at the man before him. Clad in black slacks and sleek shoes, Hanamaki has an easy time figuring out just who’s in front of him. The ironed white shirt had a few buttons loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing enough muscles to know force was a valid option. The man himself had a smirk that made it seem as though he was playing a game with Hanamaki, further proved when his hand grabbed Hanamaki’s chin and let him get a better look. “You’re quite young, aren’t you? College age, perhaps?”

“How did-“ Hanamaki sputters, only to stop when his smirk drops. “Sir?”

“Matsukawa Issei. I’m sure you’re aware of your father’s debts, which are now your responsibility. However, I can’t see how I’d benefit from someone struggling to make ends meet. I may be cruel, but I’m also fair. If you can’t work and live comfortably, I can’t get all my money back. Do you see my dilemma?”

“You could, I don’t know, let me go?” Hanamaki suggests, raising an eyebrow. He mentally takes a point when Matsukawa’s lips tilt into a smile.

“You’re funny, but I can’t do that,” he sighs, smile dropping. His eyes then turn to the goons in the room. “Get out. I’ll discuss things in private,” he orders, each subordinate leaving. Once gone, he sighs once more as he moves over to his desk, pressing a button as shades cover the windows and the room is pitched into darkness. When the desk lamp and floor lamp near the couch turn on, Hanamaki finally gets a better look at the room.

Despite being shoved to his knees before Matsukawa as if he was placed on a throne, the room looks similar to a study. With Matsukawa leaning against a dark mahogany desk, large and almost empty aside from an old looking phone and a control board, the only thing left in the room are pictures on the wall and the spacious couch. The pillows looked so comfortable and much more expensive than the cheap couch he owns. Once Hanamaki had finished looking around, he straightened his back a bit more and looked at Matsukawa, wondering just what was going to happen.

“What’s next, then? You can’t kill me because then you don’t get money, but you also can’t just let me go because I can’t pay you back like my old man did, so we’re in limbo,” he breaks the silence first, eyes scanning Matsukawa for any instance of movement.

“You’ll still be paying me back, of course. I can’t lend you any money because of your father’s debts, sadly. Although, I’m sure you’d not want to be in his same shoes. You know what, I like you, so I’ll give you some options,” he begins walking closer to Hanamaki, making adrenaline kick in. He may not seem threatening, but he has an entire building full of people at his fingertips. As he circles Hanamaki, he continues talking. “Option one, you pay me back at your leisure. I’ll even help you a bit, of course making you pay back more, but you’re not on a time limit like everyone else. Option two, I take the money I can from you and your mother, who currently sits on your father’s life insurance money, and leave you with just enough to scrape by. Option three,” he stops, kneeling in front of a currently exhausted Hanamaki, taking his chin between his fingers until they’re eye to eye, “you let me blow off some steam and your debt will be down 10 times it’s original amount. So you don’t have to do the math, that means instead of roughly 50 million yen, you’ll be paying only 5 million. It’s quite a lot, I’ll admit, but it’s much better than what you have to pay.”

“What’s.. what does blowing off steam count as, exactly? Letting you hit me every time you get angry or something?”

“No, as in you let me use your body as I see fit. I could hit you, but I have other ideas in mind,” he says, smiling as Hanamaki’s face darkens when the gears start moving. “You can decline, of course, but that’s a lot of money. Not to mention, you’re still gonna have to pay rent and buy groceries, you may die before paying off the debt. Like I said—“

“I’ll do it,” Hanamaki interjects, relaxing his shoulders but still sitting up straight. “Despite the cliché of me paying with my body, it’s really not the worst thing in the world. I’d prefer it over you hitting me, as well,”

“The deal has been made and that means from this moment on, you and your body will belong to me,” Matsukawa says, then moves behind Hanamaki. “I’ve the perfect spot for you to lie, as well,” he practically purrs in Hanamaki’s ear, nudging him up and forward. To the desk.

“Kinda expected the couch, but it’s better than the floor,” Hanamaki chuckles, only to then gasp as cool metal slides against his skin. It’s a knife, he’s sure of it, but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone again and his bound wrists are free. Completely focused on his surroundings, Hanamaki forgot about his bound wrists until suddenly they were no longer forced behind his back. Once free, Matsukawa spins him around traps him against the desk, his hand once more cupping his chin.

“You’re a cute one. Ever kissed someone?”

“When I was 10. Some girl was dared to kiss me, but not recently,” Hanamaki breathlessly whispers, eyes drawn to Matsukawa’s lips when they’re so close. Feeling his breath ghost over his lips has him wishing for things to move a bit faster, but Matsukawa won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Some dare to kiss you hardly counts. I meant a real one,” he says in response, but doesn’t encourage a reply when his lips press against Hanamaki’s, tilting his head as his hand moves to the back of Hanamaki’s head while his other hand slips beneath the cardigan and oversized t-shirt, feeling warm skin. With his lips melding against Hanamaki’s, he finds his fingers running through pink strands as the other slips into jeans and further down, making Hanamaki tense. A swipe over the bottom lip with his tongue and Matsukawa pulls away, licking away the small strand of saliva keeping them tethered. “Like that?”

Although Matsukawa was referring to his previous sentence, Hanamaki shakily sighed as he nodded, “I did,” making Matsukawa chuckle a bit. Removing his hand from Hanamaki’s hair and jeans, Matsukawa places him on the desk. “Pretty empty for a big desk. You usually take people’s virginities on desks?” Hanamaki jokes, hoping to lighten the heavy mood, obviously unfamiliar with such serious situations.

“Virginities?” Matsukawa asks, his hands stopping at Hanamaki’s thighs before squeezing as he smiles. “I’ve never gotten the opportunity to take someone’s virginity, actually. Only taken those who thought sleeping with me would save their skin. It didn’t, but that was because it was always their idea. You, on the other hand,” he says, hands once more moving to slide under Hanamaki’s t-shirt, “are in a one of a kind situation. I’ll make sure to treat you kindly.”

“Um, small request, if I may,” Hanamaki says, hands moving from Matsukawa’s shoulders to his hands, stopping them from sliding off his clothes. “Can I keep on my shirt? I don’t feel quite comfortable being so.. vulnerable. I understand if—“

“Granted,” Matsukawa cuts him off, hands still sliding against his skin but not aiming to strip him of his clothes. After all, the main focus isn’t making Hanamaki uncomfortable but rather to send him through throes of pleasure. Hands move down, curling around the hem of his jeans as Matsukawa presses his lips to Hanamaki’s jaw and neck, making the younger man sigh in bliss. When his pants are taken off, Hanamaki flushes as Matsukawa’s fingers then gently pry off his boxers. The simple act of sliding them down his legs is made more sensual as Matsukawa kisses down his body, only to stop at his hard cock. “Excited, are we?”

“Well, you’re very good at this,” he quips back, turning his head. Instead of huffing and puffing, Hanamaki soon finds himself biting his finger when Matsukawa’s tongue slides against his cock. “I didn’t think—“

“I’m quite familiar when it comes to pleasure. Sit back and relax,” Matsukawa says, wrapping his lips around Hanamaki’s cock before putting it all in his mouth. The ease of which he takes all of Hanamaki doesn’t go unnoticed, but he’s not bothered by it as much while his hands massage the meat on Hanamaki’s thighs. Hanamaki is more bothered by it, seeing as he lets out soft moans while his teeth bite on one hand and his other curls into Matsukawa’s hair. Whines come from him as his back arches, feeling Matsukawa’s tongue lap at the side of his cock, only to then take him all back into his mouth.

While Hanamaki is busy moaning and trying to not finish so quickly, Matsukawa digs into his drawer and takes out a large bottle of lube. Its top is easy to remove without needing to see, Matsukawa slipping a couple of fingers into the cool liquid before rubbing those fingers against Hanamaki’s puckered hole. The cool sensation has Hanamaki gasping, hand moving from his mouth to grasp at the edge of the desk while his other tightens it’s hold on Matsukawa’s hair. With some more lube applied, Matsukawa slides in one of his fingers while his tongue swirls around Hanamaki’s tip. The sensations all together has Hanamaki seeing stars, a sweet mewl as he finally finishes, right into Matsukawa’s mouth.

Through his pants, Hanamaki manages to give a small apology to Matsukawa, who wipes some excess cum off his lips before licking it, locking eyes with Hanamaki as he does. He also doesn’t stop fingering Hanamaki, moving his finger in and out of him while he continues to whine from the sensations. Taking his finger out, Matsukawa applies some more lube to his fingers and pushes in two at the same time, soon adding three while Hanamaki gasps and moans, hands latching onto Matsukawa’s covered shoulders.

Once Matsukawa has deemed him ready enough, Hanamaki feels his fingers leaving while he craves more. Wiping off his fingers with a nearby handkerchief, Matsukawa then finally unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the side, letting Hanamaki see all the muscles underneath. Despite not seeming very strong, Matsukawa had plenty of defined muscles that flexed as he stripped himself of his shirt, as well as moving to unbuckle his belt and unzip himself. Hanamaki couldn’t wait to feel those muscles under his own fingertips.

Once free of his boxers, Matsukawa applies a generous amount of lube to his cock while Hanamaki practically trembles with excitement. The sheer size of Matsukawa makes him wonder if it’ll actually fit, seeing as three fingers can’t compare to the size, but he’s always been up for a challenge. As Matsukawa lines himself up, he takes Hanamaki’s chin in his fingers one last time. “I want you to look at me while I corrupt you. Can you do that for me, Hiro?”

With such an affectionate name, Hanamaki is blushing while nodding his head, completely transfixed on Matsukawa as he slides his cock in. It’s painful, the lube only helping to ease the pain a bit and Hanamaki screws his eyes shut for a moment, only to reopen them as the grip on his chin gets tighter. “I said eyes on me,” Matsukawa practically growled, eyes darkened as he focused his eyes on him once more. Hanamaki doesn’t dare break the eye contact again, even as he desperately wants to throw his head back or roll his eyes back when Matsukawa finally bottoms out. Stretched beyond his limits, Hanamaki is finally able to lay back on the desk when Matsukawa gives him a kiss, short and sweet, letting his face go afterwards. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” Hanamaki honestly says, moving his hips a bit as he softly mewls, “very full.”

“Good enough for me,” Matsukawa says, rearing his hips back before slamming into Hanamaki. He practically yelps from the force of Matsukawa’s thrust, his ass jiggling from the impact. His reaction pleases Matsukawa who simply keeps up the force behind each thrusts, hands planted on either side of Hanamaki as he looks down at the man, enjoying each facial expression that comes across his face. Hanamaki reaches up to grab Matsukawa, bringing him closer as his blunt nails dig into his defined back. Matsukawa groans at the feeling of Hanamaki trying to mark him up, pressing his lips to his neck while his hips never stutter. One of his hands move down to lift up Hanamaki’s leg, holding his leg in the crook of his elbow as it dangles behind him. The adjusted position has him hitting deeper inside and rubbing against Hanamaki’s prostate with each thrust. Sucking a hickey onto his skin, Matsukawa feels Hanamaki tremble under him as warm liquid coats the front of his chest.

Matsukawa slows down his thrusts while Hanamaki finishes his second orgasm, cock bouncing as it gushes out the last bit of cum. Hanamaki looks exhausted, but Matsukawa isn’t quite done. Removing himself has Hanamaki confused, only for a moment, before he’s picking him up and swiftly placing him in his lap, back on his cock. “You’re still so fucking hard,” Hanamaki whines, feeling Matsukawa’s cock rubbing against his prostate again.

“Well, I’ve been told I have quite the stamina. I’ll let you take a break once I’ve had my own release, how about that?” Matsukawa says, although his silky words are mixed with soft pants, using up some of his energy to fuck. Matsukawa spreads Hanamaki’s legs, his hands trailing up thick thighs until he’s able to get a good grip, having Hanamaki bounce on his lap. Hanamaki tries to help, positioning his hands on the arms of the chair to stabilize himself, but soon finds his arms are too weak to hold up even half of his weight. Matsukawa does all the work while Hanamaki brushes his fingers through his hair, almost encouraging Matsukawa’s lips to press against the other side of his neck, adorning the skin with kisses and hickeys.

When Matsukawa’s thrusts start to get weak, he stops moving Hanamaki and groans, getting up from the chair without disconnecting him and Hanamaki. Bending Hanamaki over the desk, they’re both finishing together as Matsukawa rubs Hanamaki’s hardened cock with his hand. Hanamaki moans as he feels Matsukawa fill him up with his seed, only to give an open-mouthed moan when he feels him leave, his winking hole gushing with seed spent.

Hanamaki sees Matsukawa zip himself up and put on his shirt, thinking he’ll have to clean himself up. However, he’s pleasantly surprised when Matsukawa’s hand is gently pushed against his back while a warm and wet towel is cleaning up his mess. “I think I was a bit too harsh on you, sorry,” Matsukawa finally says, breaking the silence as he finishes cleaning up everything. Hanamaki doesn’t respond very well, his mind too hazy and body too numb to really process what’s going on. “Hanamaki, hello?” Is the last thing he hears before he shuts his eyes for the rest of the night.

#haikyuu smut #matsuhana smut #matsuhana #BB.Kinky #BB.Tweets #Mr. Issei #Mr. Takahiro #Hanamaki.Spice #Matsukawa.Spice #tw.guns #tw.yakuza #tw.violence #tw.death #tw.mafia

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sockablock · 4 years

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(TW for panic attacks and discussions about trauma)

— — —

The thing is, Beau's friends are shit fighters.

To be clear—she's not saying that they're bad at fighting, gods know Veth's a force of nature with her crossbow and all of the spell-slingers can kill with a word—it's just that when it comes to fighting, actual fighting, that down-and-dirty fist-on-flesh shit, her friends suck. Most of 'em just run, or they’d sweet-talk a surrender, or go back to slinging spells.

Beau would never admit she misses the Soul, but at least those people knew how to block. At least Dairon would make her work for it, wouldn't tell her to please, gods, Beau, stop punching me, I give!

Fjord's better these days, but not good enough.

Which is why, on their third morning back in Nicodranas, when Beau opens the door to see Yasha looking restless, she knows exactly what's up.

"Should I get my staff?"

Yasha shrugs. She usually does.

"I'll grab it. Down in five."

Beau considers grabbing some toast too, but she remembers how antsy Yasha seemed and figures she should try to avoid puking in Marion’s yard.

Yasha is stretching when she gets there. The gate swings behind her with a gentle clunk, and she kicks her shoes off, curls her toes in the grass. The sun is barely broken above rooftops and towers, and the first chime of church bells ring out overhead.

Beau yawns a little, but it’s just for flavor. Mind games. She’s not actually sleepy.

“We do not have to—”

She quickly waves her hand. “It’ll wake me up. You know, get the blood pumping.”

Yasha smiles a little at that. It’s always such a small one, but it’s getting to be familiar.

“I got up early. I couldn’t sleep. Er...sorry.”

Beau doubles her effort to be dismissive. “Don’t apologize to me, Yasha. C’mon. You think I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to?”

This seems to be a winning argument. Yasha nods, like she can’t imagine Beau doing anything she doesn’t want.

Maybe it’s the crisp ocean breeze, maybe it’s the way they circle each other in the yard. Maybe it’s the fresh brush of gauze on her fists.

Beau wants to win.

She dives in, pulls low, uses her quick movement to catch Yasha off-guard and get in as closely as she can. Yasha’s tall, broad, strong as an ox, and even holding back, she could wind Beau with a punch. She presses even closer, limiting Yasha’s motions, sweeps out a leg and cuts up when Yasha moves. The two of them duck and weave and push, neither allowing the other an inch, fists flying, blows being blocked and sweat beginning to pour down their backs. Beau lands a hit that leaves Yasha grunting, then stumbles when a wild haymaker knocks her back. It’s clear that Yasha was never taught any form, just scraped it all together by surviving on the moors and her chaotic movement, high endurance, and reckless confidence just make her deadlier.

Beau tries to close in again, but a lucky kick forces her a pace too far. Her knuckles are bruising in that numb, seething way, and so she darts to the side, grabs her staff, vaults up and then arcs her foot to Yasha’s face—

The dance starts again, this time hardwood hitting forearms and on anyone else, Beau might even feel guilty about it. But Yasha barely seems to register the thwack, her teeth bared in a sideways grin, her eyes hard and excited and alive. Beau’s probably wearing the same expression. She hears herself laughing, and knows that she is. Up-swing, down-swing, slide left, throw a punch, block one, dart back, duck and then—

Yasha’s fist catches her right in the gut, sends Beau lurching flat into the dirt. She chokes her own breath, coughs up dust, barely gets an elbow up with Yasha leaning over her, blotting out the sun, raising Beau’s staff for a finishing strike—

Halts.

It’s like watching a tower fall. Yasha staggers back. She drops the staff. She lifts her hands and stares at her palms and Beau hears a mangled breath. Her knees give. She collapses on herself.

Beau scrambles up, aching limbs forgotten.

“Yasha?” she says. “Yasha? Are you—is—what’s wrong?”

Yasha sucks in more air, but that just seems to make things worse. Her shoulders tremble and her lungs sound ragged.

“Aw, shit,” says Beau, “I mean—fuck—uh—”

She half-runs, half-crawls, ‘til she’s at Yasha’s side. She wants to put her hand on Yasha’s arm, thinks better of it, panics a little more. She wishes she were Jester. She wishes she were Cad. They’d know what to do, they’d be better at this than her, anyone, hell, Marius would be better at this than her—

But it’s her, and everyone’s still in the house, so she shakes her head and stamps the fear down.

“Yasha, I...aw, fuck, I’m—I’m here, it’s okay, nothing’s wrong—” clearly something is wrong, idiot, “—I mean, um, you’re safe here, okay? It’ll be alright. I’m here, and I’ll stay if that’s what you want, okay? I won’t go anywhere, if you don’t want. Uh...can you shake your head if you want me to go? Is that...possible, can you—”

A frantic shake.

“Oh good, okay, thank fuck, then I’m here. I’m right here, Yash. I’m not going anywhere.” She tries to pitch her voice calm, takes deep, long breaths, and continues to murmur as reassuringly as she can until after...seconds? Minutes? Yasha’s trembling slows.

There’s a pause. Yasha inhales and lets it go. It’s shaky, but apparently good enough because finally, eventually, she turns and looks back at Beau.

“I’m...okay. I am okay.”

Beau sinks back into the grass. Then she lies down. “Oh, cool. I’m, uh, glad.”

“I’m so—”

She holds up a hand. “Nope. C’mon.” She pats the ground beside her.

“Er...what?”

She pats it again, emphatic. “Lie down. C’mon. I think we’ve earned a break.”

She stares up at the sky while Yasha shifts around, and eventually there’s a gentle thud as she lies down. Seagulls cry in the distance and clouds drift slowly past their heads.

Beau swears, but mentally. A private thing.

“So, uh...do we...want to talk about it, or...?”

Yasha is quiet for a moment. That’s not surprising. Then:

“It...reminded me of when I killed you.”

“What? Oh—”

“Almost killed you,” Yasha amended. “Both times.”

“Right,” says Beau. “That’s...right.”

She thinks about saying—almost. You only almost killed me, so really it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. And you kill people all the time anyway, right?

She blinks. “Wait, you kill people all the time, Yasha. Is it always that bad? Shit, does it always...does it always make you feel like this? Only...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you...break like that...”

She regrets the words immediately. Stupid, Beau, that’s a stupid thing to say.

But Yasha answers the question earnestly. “It’s usually different,” she says to the sky. “It usually...doesn’t matter. Er...no, not that it doesn’t matter, it just...”

“Doesn’t matter,” Beau sighs. “No, I...sort of get it. Man, that might be fucked up. Of us.”

Yasha shrugs, which rustles the grass. “It’s how it has always been for me. That is just what life is like.”

“I’m sure Jester would disagree.”

“Jester is...nice. I am not. I...have hurt a lot of people. And not just people who were fighting me, or trying to hurt me, but people who were innocent, who did not need not to be hurt, people who care about me, and, and people who I...”

She trails off. Beau can’t see her face, but right now, selfishly, she is glad for it. She feels anger bubbling up in her stomach.

“You were being controlled,” she says fiercely. “You didn’t do it. Someone made you do it.”

“But...part of that...part of it was still me. Since...since you all freed me, I...I remember parts of it. I remember doing it. Those were my hands.”

Beau can practically hear Yasha’s fist tighten. She definitely feels it when Yasha hits the ground.

“If I was better, or if I was stronger, if I had broken free faster, none of that would have happened, I could have stopped him sooner—”

This time, Beau doesn’t hold back. They’re lying down, so it’s incredibly awkward, but the first thing she can think of is to grab Yasha’s hand.

She sits up, and waves it over Yasha’s face.

“But you didn’t,” she says, then falters, then wants to smack herself. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is...” Then she stops. “No, you know what? Fuck it. You didn’t break out faster. And that’s because it was a miracle you managed it in the first place. Yasha, you were being controlled by a devil. You were being controlled by the Chained Oblivion. The fact that you were even a person the first time we met—and you were a person, you were funny, you charged me money to, to, well, you charged me five gold, remember that?”

Yasha blinks. Her wrist is slack in Beau’s grip.

“I...do, yes, I remember that.”

“Right. The fact that you were a person then meant that they couldn’t keep their claws in you. Because you were strong. You were better. Better than everything they tried to make you. You kept breaking free.”

Yasha does not try to squirm away, only stays there.

“But...I needed help every time that I did escape. I never managed it on my own. First it was...it was Kord, and then you all—”

“Of course!” Beau throws her other arm into the air. “Who the fuck could do it on their own?! All that means is that when you had a chance, the second you had a chance, you were outta there. In your heart, you knew what was right. You knew it, and held onto it, even when I’m sure it would’ve been so easy to stay there, to stay in that hell and just go through the motions and lose yourself in...in grief, and loss and...and all that. But you didn’t. And now look at you.”

She cracks a goofy smile, all desperation to make what she’s trying to say heard.

“You’re an angel, Yasha. Remember?”

Yasha slowly sits up too. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, black turning white, with little blades of grass.

Beau is made painfully aware of the fact that she’s still holding Yasha’s hand. She lets go. Then she swears again, and hopes that Yasha doesn’t think it’s because of anything s—

“I am, aren’t I?”

Her gaze shoots up and Yasha's wearing a goofy smile too. Small, a bit nervous, but real and warm.

It’s getting to be familiar.

Beau snorts. She snorts so loud that it might dislodge something in her chest. She hits Yasha gently on the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t, uh, don’t let it go to your head.”

She can see Yasha nodding in the corner of her eye.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Then, after a brief battle over whether or not to bring it up, “I don’t...I don’t...for the record, I’m not mad about you stabbing me. Or whatever.”

Yasha looks stricken, and Beau regrets it instantly. “Shit, should I not have reminded you of—”

“No,” Yasha sighs, and her face softens. “No. I am...glad that you are not mad at me.”

“Should we, like...go to a cleric about this?” Beau asks. “Is this going to be something that happens in, like...fights? Because if it does, it might put you in danger. Also, it’s...it probably sucks for you. Right?”

Fjord would probably have something to say about the way she’s handling this conversation. He’s not here now.

“I...don’t know,” Yasha says eventually. “It hasn’t happened before. It was only...just now. And...just with you. It...hurting you reminded me of being controlled. It...brought me back to all the times that my mind was not my own.”

“I’m sorry,” Beau says, because she’s not sure what else to say.

“No,” says Yasha. Beau looks up, surprised by the weight in her words. “If I am not allowed to be sorry to you, you cannot be sorry to me.”

“Ah,” says Beau. She feels a grin pulling. “In that case...I’m not sorry.”

Yasha nods, like this is sacred, and Beau can’t help but snort again.

“C’mon,” she says. “We can...work this shit out later. Or start to. With a cleric if you want, or not, if you don’t. But I just got my ass kicked, and I’m thirsty. What do you say to some drinks? I think there’s juice. Do you like juice?”

She stands up, and sticks out a hand.

Yasha takes it.

“Okay. I like juice.”

— — —

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ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

We Were Kids

Masterlist

We’re Older Now | Next

“You’re going to make her disappear again, Bakugou!” Mina said, frustration breaking through the tone of her voice as they patrolled the streets together once again.

Ever since Y/N had made her grand appearance back into their lives, Mina and Katsuki talked more than ever. Katsuki needed help taking care of Ryu since this was obviously brand new to him so he’d ask Mina for help on how to handle him, and Mina wanted to be kept updated to make sure he didn’t screw anything up. They were both so unsure on how to help you, especially when you were so closed off about your side of the story. Being around eachother wasn’t as bad as either of them thought though, and they could thank you for making them find that out.

It was talk to Mina about Y/N or Kirishima and something about that didn’t sit right with him.

“She’s not that stupid,” Katsuki grunted in his defense. “I was trying to be fucking nice to her, she knows that.”

That was only kind of a lie, he was trying to be kinder, softer for her. That immense guilt that weighed down his chest everyday since you came back into his life only got heavier the more he chipped away at the walls you put up, because he was beginning to realize that he should have never been your hero. Every memory he had where he thought you were acting spoiled and trying to buy him like your father was, he was able to reevaluate it and see that you were genuinely naive and trying to love him. How the hell could he blame you for being spoiled when that’s how you were raised?

He did almost exactly what he did to Deku to you: project his insecurities.

“What did she say? Did she yell at you?” Mina pressed the topic.

The smile completely washed off your face, replaced with that cold expression he had been given before. Katsuki knew now that it wasn’t who you were — you weren’t cold hearted and ruthless like your father, but you were smart enough to pick up on his mannerisms and use them — but it didn’t fail to bring him back to the bigger picture.

The relationship between you two was severed, he was a thick branch on the root of your trauma, and you were strong enough to pretend it was okay, but you refused to forget.

“Yours? Don’t get ahead of yourself, Dynamight. I can build an empire from ashes, and I can easily turn this life you love so much into a personal hell. I don’t belong to anyone, and I owe nothing to anyone. You on the other hand, owe me your respect and your loyalty if you want to be in your son’s life. If anything you are mine, and from what I’ve been told, that’s not something to be proud of.”

He felt that sharp pain hit his chest again and his lungs tighten, “don’t worry about it.”

Mina rolled her eyes and threw her hands up as they walked. “Did you tell her about the press conference today? She hasn’t even considered staying at your place yet.” Katsuki stopped in his tracks as her sentence finished, his whole body frozen in step and Mina face-palmed.

“She’s totally going to kill you.”

The noise from the television playing Ryu’s favorite channel broadcasting hero events was barely audible over the sounds of him stomping and imitating noises of guns and his explosions going off. You expected that your wooden coffee table would once again have his footprints on them, and some of his toys would be scattered on the floor mimicking hurt heroes. Hopefully your couches would still be brown and without burn marks when you went back out there, but that concern was easily put to rest by the one who currently had his eyes on your son while you made them snacks in the kitchen.

You finished platting the carrots and grapes — Ryu would refuse to eat any snack if grapes weren’t included in the mix — and grabbed the two plates with varying portions of the snack you threw together before walking back out into the “war zone”. The moment you were in view with a plate Ryu was at your legs, hopping up and down in anticipation for his afternoon snack he probably desperately needed from all the constant running he did. You put his plate on the coffee table for him to sit on the floor and eat, hopefully without playing around with it, and took a few more steps to the couch where your unexpected guest sat.

“Thank, Y/N! You didn’t have to make me one too,” Kirishima grinned, flashing you all of his sharp teeth in appreciation.

You smiled softly, “it’s really no problem. You’re the only visitor I have that doesn’t cause me unwanted stress, so feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

Kirishima watched you take a seat on the floor next to your child, the one that looked nothing like you, but like the boy that broke your heart. He watched as you smiled at him eating, picking up the pieces of food he’d drop onto the tables, and running your hands through his hair and fixing it to your liking. It was so clear what your priority was — what your life centered around. It was nostalgic because he had seen that look on your face before; with Katsuki.

He couldn’t shake the realization now; you had always been a decent person. When Katsuki would talk down about you as if you were less than, it had nothing to do with who you really were, and had everything to do with the image he had projected on you. What made him feel worse is how he saw how much you loved Bakugou — not only Bakugou, but Mina too — and he still somehow believed what Katsuki was saying. He was the only one of his friends that didn’t feel right using you like that. He watched them all, Kaminari, Sero, Uraraka, and even Momo, but never voiced a single concern.

“I’m sorry.” He gasped as he tried to contain the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He had to close his eyes and clutch his knees, but even that couldn’t stop the waterfall from pouring down his eyes. “I can’t imagine what you must have felt when. . how lonely you must have been. . “

“Red Rio-“ Kirishima cut Ryu off.

“I don’t deserve that hero name when I did something so unmanly!”

“Kirishima!” You scolded, standing up and guiding Ryu to go into the kitchen, giving him a look that told him to just stay put and you’ll speak to him later.

Going back into the living room, you shook your head at the crying man on your couch. This wasn’t something you expected from him, but then again he had more emotional awareness than any of the people involved at a young age. You couldn’t help but wonder what he uses to think of you, what Katsuki told him you were truly like when you two were alone. Seeing him cry and apologize in a fit of obvious guilt didn’t make you feel good, and the thought of it being Katsuki doing the apologizing didn’t bring you any kind of comfort either.

But why?

You took a seat next to Kirishima with your hands cupped together on your lap. “Growing up, I wanted to be just like my dad. . He was this amazing business man that was good at everything, and no one could tell him anything, you know? He made it seem like the only way to succeed was to crush someone else, to have more money than everyone else, and that shaped who I was.” You recalled, going back through your memory as best as you could the same way you did when you sat alone in a hotel room with nothing but pain and resentment.

“All of you saw me like I wanted to be seen, whether I want to admit that or not, it’s true. They did exactly what anyone would have done to me as soon as I stepped into my father’s shoes if I had stayed naive and believed that money and love were the same thing. If you think Katsuki could have done what he did in a lot better way, I agree, but if you think that I should have you all eternally in my debt like my father would have, then you still see me as the man I’ve been running from for a long time now. So. . whatever you’re apologizing for, thanks but that isn’t what I’m looking for.”

Kirishima had stopped crying midway through your life story, finding himself immersed in your point of view. It was absolutely flooring that you weren’t looking for revenge or even apology. Especially from Katsuki after hearing what he had told you all those years ago. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were the girl he knew that only wore name brand dresses and worried more about why her mother bought her ugly shoes than the world around her — the answer was both yes and no.

You were that girl, but now you weren’t mirroring someone else’s views.

His heartbeat picked up and he felt his cheeks grow red as he stared at you. It was wrong how his entire body seemed to steam up when you were sitting there in your lounge wear that wasn’t even close to you looking done-up. You were the mother of his best friend’s kid, it was so much more than just being off limits.

Kirishima turned away from you when you looked at him, and you chuckled. “Don’t start getting all sappy on me now. I may not want to bury Bakugou and Ashido like you guys think, but I still don’t trust their friendship, and certainly not a relationship with the blonde bombshell.”

Suddenly, Kirishima remembered why he came here in the first place, and the whole reason Mina had given him your address. He whipped his head to the television that had been playing the entire time in the background, to see the very thing that he was meant to prepare you for. You followed his gaze in confusion, but that quickly changed to dread when you saw that explosive blonde hair and red eyes looking back at you on your TV. . along with a picture of you and Ryu.

“They are my family, and there is no story for any of you. Where they are isn’t any of your concern, and because of recent events where their lives were threatened they will be relocating to a safe location. There isn’t any need to worry, because I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt them.” Katsuki said, and immediately you could hear the press at the meeting talking and attempting to question him, but he walked off the stage with the same strict expression he had spoken with.

“Kirishima.”

“. . . You’re really pretty.”

“How pretty will I be with my hands around your neck?”

(A/N: Big thanks to @xwackk and @misssugarless for their help <3! I hope you guys enjoy, and I really can’t show how much I really appreciate all the kindness you guys show me on this book! ❤️❤️❤️)

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#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha angst #anime x reader

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