#movement in a way whatever it bothered me so i called him out which lead to this HUGE discussion abt racism and me trying to explain things
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The Waterfall
Hi, friends. We are back in the Brujita-verse- this is technically a prequel. Pero and his beloved, before any kids are on the horizon. If you haven't read Brujita it is not at all necessary for this fic, but it's short and cute so you might like it. =)
Thank you to my friends who chatted about this idea with me. <3
The Waterfall
WC: 1.7k (no beta)
Pairing: Pero Tovar x wife!reader ; in Brujita-verse
Warnings: Explicit. Smut- PinV, Pero loving titties because it's Pero, a smidge of masturbation and fingering, reader's description is very vague but she does have boobs.....I think that's it.
~~
You walk through the door with your baskets full of goods from the market the next village over. You had ridden with some friends from town who often looked after you when your husband was away, seeing as how you spent most of your days alone. Pero was due back any day, his three-month job hopefully coming to a close soon. You had been counting down the days and maintaining the cottage as spring bled into summer, wanting everything to be ready for his return.
As you placed your baskets down on the large wooden table, you see it.
Pero’s sword and dagger, in their worn leather sheaths.
You look around excitedly, but Pero is nowhere to be seen. You move through the cottage calling his name quietly in case he is asleep, but you see the quilts on your bed remain undisturbed. You’re only met with silence in the small wooden house and you grow worried until you practically trip over a trail of clothing leading out the back door. Making your way outside, you know exactly where he can be found.
Following along the little stream, you see him in the distance. At the back of the swimming hole is the small waterfall that cascades over the rocks above. Pero’s wet hair is much longer than when he left, a testament to his time away. He’s pushed it back out of his face and it falls down his strong neck, clinging to his sun-soaked skin. He is scrubbing himself as the water falls over him, washing away the dirt from his travels and the lingering weight of whatever hardships he had to encounter.
He cups the warm summer water and throws it over his arms, letting it fall across his chest and down his back. He’s turned to you with his wide shoulders flexing as he leans under the falls with one hand resting on the smooth rock in front of him. He’s looking down and for a moment you’re concerned. Until you realize.
His hips are slowly thrusting forward as he grips himself tightly. His broad back is tensing with each move as he fucks his hand with slow, tired movements. You immediately start shucking off your clothes, effortlessly tearing through the ties of your skirts as you remove each layer.
“Pero?” you call out, not bothering to remove the last layer before you’re wading into the water. You’re desperate to see him, to touch him and hold him. You worry about him every moment that he’s gone, and to see him so close fills your eyes with tears of joy.
Pero turns around at your call, immediately letting go of his cock which you can see is rock hard and flushed red. He shouts your name when he sees you and starts wading over to you, eyes wild and filled with emotion. You meet in the middle of the small pond, launching into each other's arms with a soft thud. The water laps at your shoulders and Pero hoists you up easily so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. You drape your arms around his neck, relishing in how solid and here he is.
You kiss him frantically, telling him how much you’ve missed him and asking if he’s alright. He reassures you that he’s uninjured and so happy to be home to his love in between kisses.
“I thought of you every day and night, mi vida. All I thought about was coming home to you,” he tells you breathlessly.
You stop to push his long hair back from where it has fallen forward, scratching your fingers through his long beard. “I didn’t know when you would be home, I’m so sorry, I wanted to be here,” you say with a long kiss.
“They told me in town that you would be gone until the morrow, I couldn’t wait for you to get home. I have been burning for you these months,” Pero tells you as he dips to kiss the swell of your breasts through your soaked shift. You can feel his hard length at the apex of your legs as you rock against him.
“I’m here now. Show me how much you’ve missed me,” you beg as you slot your lips against his.
Pero moans into your kiss and grabs at the globes of your ass, helping you to grind against him. He breaks the kiss to lift you up even higher around his waist. His burning eyes drag down your neck to where the wet linen sticks to your chest, the thin material now completely soaked and transparent. He kisses down the curve of your tits until he reaches your hard nipples, kissing and running his tongue over one before moving to the other to give it attention as well.
“How much do you care about this shift?” Pero asks lowly, hunger simmering in his belly.
“You can’t rip my clothes off again, Pero, I don’t want to replace another one.” You smile down at him and run your hands through his hair.
Pero grumbles but walks you back towards the waterfall where the water is much shallower. Once there, he helps you stand so that he can lift the garment, heavy with water, off of your body. He tosses it on the bank but doesn’t bother to watch where it lands, instead keeping his attention on your bare body that’s presented before him. His mouth immediately finds yours as your nude bodies press against each other.
You feel like every inch of your skin is on fire, the months of need engulfing your entire being. Pero pushes you under the falls to lean against the stones; they’re so cool on your skin. The water tumbles down his back and he breaks from you to rest his forehead against yours.
“Amor, I need you. I-I don’t know how gentle I can be,” Pero’s chest is heaving as he breathes heavily. His hands rest on your hips, squeezing you and pulling you as close to him as possible. You can feel his need pressed between your bellies.
You nod against him, pulling one of his hands down between you where you push one of his fingers against your sex. There is no resistance; you are more than ready for him. Pero angles his finger up inside of you and curls just like you like. You mewl softly but your sweet sounds are only for Pero- even if anyone else was around, the crashing sound of the water drowns you out.
Pero gently pulls out his finger and lines himself up at your entrance, pushing in slowly. You can tell from the look on his face that he is trying to keep his composure.
“It’s alright, my love,” you say as you look into his deep brown eyes, “I know you would never hurt me.”
Pero’s brow furls with emotion as he fully seats himself inside of you. “Fuck, I have missed this sweet cunt.”
“Oh my god, oh my god,” you chant as you cling to him, letting him set the pace that he needs. One hand moves up to protect the back of your head from hitting the smooth rock wall while the other finds your breast. He rolls your nipple between his thick thumb and forefinger as he drags himself in and out of you.
“So big, Pero. So big. I can feel you so deeply,” you say against his neck. You know how much he loves to hear your sweet words and filthy moans as he fucks you. Your utterances unleash something within himself and he starts thrusting against you in earnest, the sound of your pleasured cries surrounding the two of you.
Pero grunts and moans as he gets closer to his climax. “I need you to come, por favor, I need it so badly.”
His hand once again finds its way down to your swollen clit and he traces nameless shapes into it as his hips start to falter. You clamp down on his cock as the world feels like it’s exploding around you. You hold Pero to you as he spills himself inside of your warmth, letting out a low groan. He can barely move with the way you clench around him. He tilts your chin up and lets your cheek rest on his chest as he caresses your face. Your eyes are closed but your blissed-out smile tells him how good you feel.
Your legs can barely support your weight but Pero has a strong hold on you. He walks you back into the deeper waters, letting your body float against his. Your grip around his neck never falters- not that it matters. He would never let you go.
The two of you spend the next hour in the clear waters, Pero holding you close while you get reacquainted with each other. He tells you what he can of his time away, and you fill him in on the town gossip. He always pretends not to care, but you have to suppress a chuckle when he certainly has a lot to say about the miller’s son and the feud with the baker.
You watch as the tension of the past few months slowly melts away and as the smile returns to his beautiful face. You trace your finger over his scar, grateful that he hasn’t added any more to his body. He keeps getting distracted by how your tits float in the water even though it happens every time you swim together. You know he must be hungry but whenever you offer to make him something, he just shakes his head and says that he would rather spend a little bit more time here with you in the water.
You joke and ask if he has injured his head. “My husband, not wanting to eat? Certainly, this is a stranger that looks like my Pero,” you tut with a laugh.
Pero responds as he always does. “I’ve got all I want to eat right here.”
So you soak until you’re both comparing pruney fingertips, then Pero pulls you by the hand back onto dry land. You collect your clothes and walk back to the cottage naked, letting the sun dry your skin. The two of you are reunited; what more could you ask for from this day?
#pero tovar x f!reader#pero tovar#pero x reader#pero tovar x you#the great wall#pero is domestic as hell and loves his wife#i'll shout about it forever
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Stay with Me pt.3
Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.
Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche
Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood
A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D
Here you’ll find - pt.1 and pt.2
He’d left a key.
Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight.
Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?
Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.
The Balladeer was a fool.
He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.
You wanted to go outside.
And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.
It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.
He didnt say anything the next day.
You werent going to wait any longer.
“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”
The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.
But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.
Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.
Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.
‘Balladeer.’
The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.
You were no longer his.
Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.
It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long.
“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”
A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.
They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”
“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”
“What…?”
Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”
“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”
A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.
Gone.
You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.
“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”
The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.
Anywhere. Anywhere but here.
It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.
“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”
You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.
The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?
Your only option was to run.
Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest.
And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.
Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.
“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”
But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.
Where was home?
You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…
You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.
Where were you to go now…?
Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.
You were home.
____________________
“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”
A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.
“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.
And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.
“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”
Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.
“Of c-course!”
The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.
Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”
Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.
____________________
“That… that…”
It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.
Out of Inazuma.
It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.
It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.
But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.
Until you got his message.
“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…”
Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.
You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.
He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.
You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.
Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.
Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.
———————
Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?
I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?
I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.
Sincerely, your Balladeer
——————
It was raining.
Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.
You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…
The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.
You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.
He was just a boy.
Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.
He’s just a boy.
You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.
Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.
But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck.
“Play with me!”
Was it your fault?
For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...
“Lazy ass.”
Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”
Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.
“I love you.”
But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”
His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.
You saw a little boy.
Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.
But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.
“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.
It was necessary if you planned to kill him.
#genshin impact#genshin impact hc#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact oneshots#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#kitsune reader#yandere scaramouche#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#reader x scaramouche#scaramouche angst#writing#angst
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Break up
Summary: After having a messed up break up, your best friend Dabi is there to comfort you, and give even more than you asked for.
Word count: 5,2k
Genre: romance, smut, no quirks haha
Warnings: 18+, creampie, public sex, spitting, choking..
,, I fucking hate him’’ you cried loudly, mouth full of ice cream as you talked to your cousin over the phone. At this point you didn’t care of how loud you were, and you didn’t care about the fact that your cousin had a hard time understanding you since you were a crying mess. Sobbing loudly, you ignored the words coming from the other line.
,, That bitch cheated on me with Toga, can you believe that?’’ you sobbed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you wrapped yourself with your favorite comfort blanket.
,, The girlie with weird hair ?’’ your cousin asked in shock.
,,YES, the fuck she thinking she’s the fifth element with that hairstyle?’’ you choked out, throwing the empty package across the room, as your cousin giggled because of your remark. She wished she was closer so she could pay you a visit, but sadly miles and miles were separating the two of you.
Sure, the first person you wanted to inform about your breakup was Touya, but you couldn’t force yourself to bother him, knowing he’s probably on work. You knew very well that he would drop everything and come over, saying how he doesn’t feel well or some other shit, and you didn’t want that.
After the call ended, you stood up, ignoring your reflection on the window, knowing very well that you look like shit right now with all the smudged mascara over your face. Tears started rolling down your cheeks even more when you saw that there’s no ice cram anymore. What did you do to deserve such a torture.
Wearing your hoodie, you made your way toward the nearest store, ignoring the people that were giving you weird stares because of your silly Sailor Moon pajama shorts. You couldn’t care less of what anyone thought in that moment.
You went to the store with the intention to buy ice cream, only to end up in the part of it with variant different choices of hairdye. So many ideas were going thru your mind, as you looked all over it. You almost ended up buying the pink dye and some bleach, until you saw scissors hanging beside the bleach.
Grabbing the scissors only, you hurried up to pay everything you chose, rolling your eyes shamelessly as you saw Rumi, the cashier of the fucking day. For some weird reason, you almost hated the muscular bitch. Maybe it was because she never had the exchange to give you back, giving you a pack of gums instead. Maybe it was because of her attitude, always giving you some smart comments, how your skirt is too short, how there are kids here, or even because she always rolled her eyes when she saw you coming in.
,, Looks like someone had a rough day’’ she commented sarcastically, as you gave your best to keep calm and ignore her. After the comment, she shut her mouth and did her job.
,, Sweetie, can you help?’’ she asked, suddenly with a cute tone, when her co-worker asked her to bring him few paper bags that were beside her.
,, No, you are doing great’’ you spat, grabbing all of the items as you hurried out of the store. The fuck would you help her? She’s getting paid for it, not you. Stupid bitch.
Placing the ice cream into the freezer, you immediately made your way to the toilet as you unpacked the scissors almost aggressively. Why would you dye and ruin your hair with bleach, when you could just cut off a bit of your hair, which meant the exact length of his dick.
Your hair was already long, and the fact that his dick wasn’t that big meant that you would only cut few inches. After short calculating, you grabbed the scissors, as you turned some silly tutorial on Youtube. Watching yourself in the mirror, you cried even harder, not because you regretted your decision. It was more because you looked like a lunatic.
After you finished, you immediately washed your face, cleaning all the ruined make up. Sure it didn’t look like a professional person did your hairstyle, but it didn’t look bad either, in fact, you liked it.
Since you weren’t in the mood to do your make up, you only put a bit of face cream over your face, and bit of mascara to make your eyes pop up a bit, before you took few selfies to post on instagram.
You were too lazy to do it, all you wanted to do in the moment was cry some more and eat ice cream you just bought, while watching something on Netflix. But you had to do it, you had to embarrass him as much he embarrassed you.
,, Not gonna miss those 5 inches, Kai.’’
You wrote, laughing ironically at the caption under your selfie. It wasn’t the best selfie you ever took, but at least you didn’t look like you were suffering because of the breakup, and the much shorter hair was visible on it.
[cyxnaf] Touya Todoroki
,, What happened?’’
It wasn’t even a minute since you posted your photo on the instagram, and your best friend already messaged you there.
Bitch cheated on me
You replied, sending him a crying selfie, with a spoon in your mouth.
[cyxnaf] Touya Todoroki
I’ll be there in 15 mins
A smile crept on your face, as you read his message. You loved him more than anyone or anything else on the whole word. If it was someone else coming over, you would probably force yourself and clean the apartment. But since it was Dabi, you didn’t give a shit.
The moment he arrived, you started bawling your eyes out. Having a face to face conversation with someone, talking about the break up made your feelings awake again. Dabi in other hand tried to make you feel better, bringing you your favorite snacks, and trying to put Kai down.
,, I’ve never had drama, unless it’s with my inner self’’ you cried loudly. ,, And all of sudden, I’m being cheated on.’’ Adding you grabbed the chips from the paper bag and opened it almost aggressively. Touya laughed you out, pointing every drama you’ve been connected to.
,, Stop it, you’re supposed to make me feel better’’ you slapped his arm lightly, as he talked about the drama that happened back in high school, when you got into a huge fight with a girl that called your dog a rat.
Once Touya realized that your mood was only getting worse, he turned some documentary on Netlfix that he started watching few days ago, explaining everything about it to you. You couldn’t help but smile, as you listened to him explaining every small thing, making sure you won’t be confused once he plays the episode.
,, You only watched few episodes of one murder documentary and you think you’re Mr. worldwide intellectual.’’ You laughed, as he tried to explain professionally.
,, The fuck you talking about ? The only documentary you watch is Keeping up with the Kardashians, so shut the fuck up’’ he spat, rolling his eyes playfully as he played the documentary.
The thing he played was about some murder, nothing you would watch on your own, but you didn’t mind. Seeing him talk about it so excitedly made your heart warm and in that moment you didn’t care if you won’t be able to sleep next few days.
You always loved spending your time with Touya, you simply loved how even when none of you had something to say, the silence was never uncomfortable. Even just sitting with him was making you feel safe.
,, You really choped your hair’’ he said, as he started to play with your hair. Being tired from all the crying and with his gentle movements, you were not capable of replying, simply nodding your head in response.
,, It looks good on you’’ Touya complimented you, placing a soft kiss on top of your head. He noticed that you were zooming out, so he just continued to caress your, helping you fall asleep.
All the horrible thoughts he had washed away, once he saw your sleeping face. He could only smile to himself as he noticed how puffy your face got from all the crying. Sure, it wasn’t that visible, but he simply noticed it and found it more then cute.
He tried to act calm and suppress his feelings, he tried to be there for you, but when you talked about what happened, all he wanted to do was find that piece of shit of your ex and simply kill him. He couldn’t understand how did you always manage to find some weird boyfriends that didn’t appreciate and treat you as you deserved.
If you only gave him a chance, he would always be there for you, he would simply give you anything you wished for. Touya never understood how could you be so blind, never once did you notice his feelings for you. Never once did you question his behavior.
Every time you called him over, he would ditch all his plans and run to you. Every time you needed something, you knew very well that only Touya will help you 100%.
You woke up in your bedroom, a little bit confused about what time it was and if your best friend was still there. Taking your phone to check what time it is, your eyes widened when you saw a Instagram notification from Kai. That piece of shit had balls to like your photo.
Throwing your phone away, you started crying again, wishing the day you met him never happened. You wished you listened to your best friend when he told you that Chisaki ain’t the one for you.
,, You ok?’’ you heard Touya’s voice under the loud TV noise. In just a second he was beside you, warming your body with his own and wrapping his arms around you, telling you how everything is ok and how he’s there for you.
,, Come on, stand up’’ Touya commanded suddenly, forcing your upper body up. ,, We are leaving’’ he added, forcing you out of the bed. You were too confused to even think at that very moment, but you found yourself following his lead. Wearing one of your very oversized shirt that covered more than enough, you hurried out of your bedroom to Toyua who was waiting for you already all ready.
You didn’t know what was happening, and the pack of eggs in his hand was confusing the shit out of you, yet you found yourself in the passenger seat, doing whatever Touya planned at that moment.
,, Where are we going ?’’ you asked, tears long gone.
,, We’re egging his car’’ he said, as your eyes widened in shock.
,, Is that even legal?’’ you asked again, already all excited about it.
,, Nope’’ Touya laughed out, focused on the road. You were sure that Kai would know it was you, definitely. But he also won’t have balls to call the police on you, since you knew about all his dirty deeds, you knew about all the drugs he’s taking and having hidden somewhere in his house.
Kai didn’t live far away from you, so in only few minutes of drive the two of you found yourself in front of his car. Lighting one cigarette, Dabi took the paper that was placed on the windshield.
,, Stop perking on my spot’’ Dabi read out loud, pointing out the word he wrote wrongly. You laughed loudly as you remembered about Kai telling you about some dude parking his Motorcycle in front of his car, making it hard to get out of the spot for him.
,, He can’t write, but he can do meth I guess’’ you laughed, as Touya puffed on his cigarette.
You stood there close to Kai’s car, as you waited for your best friend to finish his cigarette. It was a quiet night, with no people around at all. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was rushing in your blood, or the fact that you spent all day crying like a mad person, but in that very moment all you felt was anger as you thought about your ex.
,,Here’’ Touya gave you the package, still smoking that cigarette. You weren’t sure if he took his time with cigarette or if the time was simply passing so slow for you, since he was a pretty fast smoker.
To his surprise, you grabbed one egg and immediately threw it on his car, making him rise his eyebrows and laugh in shock. You never did something like that before, so you didn’t really understand why the alarm didn’t go on. Was your throw too weak?
A huge grin formed on your lips as you threw another egg, you couldn’t stop the evil laugh as you watched the egg yolk all over the window and in that moment you wished you had rotten eggs instead. Watching you happy like that, Touya couldn’t hide his smile. He was almost sure that everyone could read his emotions, he was sure that everyone could say how much in love he was with you.
You were on your fourth egg when Touya took one from the package and threw it. You weren’t sure if he threw it with much more force, or if he already did this before, but when the egg hit the car, loud alarm took over the peaceful night.
,, Shit, we have to hurry’’ Touya said under his breath as both of you threw one more egg. Sure, Kai won’t call the police, but if someone else saw you, they sure will.
You were laughing loudly, as you took your last egg, ready to throw it while Touya explained to you at what you should aim for.
,, HEY’’ you heard a familiar voice, coming from the building you used to spend so much time in. Not even turning around, you threw the egg and rushed to Toyua’s car, hopping fast into passenger seat. The moment Kai got out, everything happened too fast.
You wished you could take a photo of his upset face as he looked over your car. You were sure that you never saw him mad like that.
,, YOU FUCKING SUCK’’ he yelled once he turned the alarm off, while Dabi was ready to drive off, laughing loudly with you.
,, AND YOU SWALLOW BITCH’’ you yelled, popping your head thru the window. Touya gave you a bit time to flip him a bird, before he drove fast off, leaving your ex boyfriend pissed on the road. Laughing loudly, you leaned back into the seat, satisfied with the little event your best friend thought of.
,, You are seriously the best’’ you said, still smiling widely. Touya nodded his head, focused on the road. Every time he took a look of you, his heart would skip a beat. He was so fucking glad that you weren’t sad anymore, at least not for now.
You weren’t sure what had he planned next, since he wasn’t driving back home, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed his company, and you enjoyed the fact that you felt nothing else beside happiness in the moment. It was weird how fast emotions were taking over you. Just one hour ago you were a crying mess, and all of sudden you found yourself enjoying the night with your best friend.
You didn’t even realize how hungry you were, until Touya stopped by McDonalds to buy some food. Once he came back, placing the milkshakes and paper bag into your lap, you almost started drooling from the delicious smell.
He parked on the spot beside lake, where the two of you usually come to chill a bit. The music played on the low as the two of you ate slowly and talked about casual stuff. The moment a song from the famous tiktoker started playing in the background, you wished your hands weren’t so oily from the food. You wanted to change the song, but you didn’t want to make your phone oily, you weren’t even sure why you had that song in your playlist after all.
,, Does this song bother you?’’ he asked, taking a sip from his milkshake.
,, Yeah there’s a word that’s pissing me off’’ you rolled your eyes in annoyance.
,,Which one?’’ he asked confused.
,,When she says This ain’t build a bitch, you don’t get to pick or choose, what she should have said is nothing and just never release that stupid song’’ you hissed, wiping your hands as you changed the song that was pissing you off so much.
,, You are so cute’’ he complimented you, as both of you placed the rest of the food in the paper bag. Everything you did was cute to him, the was you sneeze is cute to him, the way you rise your brows when you are surprised, the way you laugh at your own jokes sometimes. Everything.
,,Did you know that Yumi got pregnant ?’’He asked you suddenly. Your eyes widened in shock, as you heard him ask, not because it was weird or anything like that, the two of you always gossip, but because you knew Yumi so well. You weren’t best friends with her, but the two of you would casually meet up.
,, Wasn’t she on the pills?’’ you asked, covering your mouth with your left hand. ,, Oh fuck no, I don’t claim this negative energy’’ you gasped shaking your head as Dabi laughed at your sudden reaction.
Talking about pregnancy and sex, you found yourself thinking about the last time you slept with your ex. You didn’t feel any sadness, all you felt was disappointment and anger. Just the thought that he was the last one inside you was making you mad, and the fact that only god knows when will you sleep with someone again was making you mad even more.
It’s not that you were a prude, or that you had something against one night stands. Sure, you could install Tinder and just find a quick fuck, knowing very well that the thought will bother you until the problem in your head is solved. But you weren’t the one to jump under the covers with a complete stranger.
,, What’s up?’’ Dabi asked once he saw you confused and lost in your thoughts. Hearing his voice, a sudden idea popped up in your head. You shook your head, trying to not think about it. He is your best friend for fucks sake, you can’t use him for something like that.
,, Nothing’’ you shook your head once again, trying to avoid his eyes.
,, Oh come on, tell me’’ he said stubbornly, as he placed his cigarette between his lips.
,, You know, the fact that Kai was the last person I had sex with, and the fact that I don’t know how long it will stay that way is bothering me’’ you confessed, skipping the part with the rest of your thoughts.
,, and you thought I could help you with it’’ Touya joked, as he puffed on his cigarette.
,, How did you know?’’ You asked way too fast, regretting it almost immediately once he almost choked onto the air and the smoke of his cigarette.
,, You can’t be serious’’ Touya said under his breath, closing his eyes as he spoke those words out. You weren’t sure why, but your heart sank a bit once you heard him say that.
,, Ah come on, it can be a quick fuck, it won’t change anything between us’’ he whined, turning your body to his direction. Once you said that, Touya grabbed you and forced you into his lap. You were more then shocked by his action, but you still positioned yourself comfortably in his lap, not sure if you should say anything or just wait..
,, You think I’ll be able to go back after it ?’’ he asked, one hand holding your waist firmly, and other holding his cigarette. ,, Doll, you should know better than anyone that I don’t do quick fucks’’ he added, as his grip got stronger. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or not, but you felt uneasy at that moment, not sure where this all is leading.
,, If we do it now, there’s no going back doll, you’ll belong to me’’ he added again, as you sat in his lap confused. It was weird to hear him talk like that.
,, Touya, that can fuck up our friendship’’ you whispered. You were way too confused, not sure if he was talking about a relationship with you or just about you not sleeping with anyone else beside him.
,, And a quick fuck won’t do it?’’ he hissed, throwing the finished cigarette out of his window. He was right, both of it could fuck it up, and your idea was probably the worse option. The problem you had just few minutes ago was long gone, as new thoughts took over your mind. The fact that he was slowly placing soft kisses all over your neck didn’t help the situation, and the fact that you tiled your head to the side to give him more access to it didn’t help either.
You weren’t sure if you were simply too horny in the moment and if emotions took over you, but one part of you wanted to give it a try, yet another part of you was simply too scared of losing him. You did think about it before, how lucky can a girl be to call herself his girlfriend!? He’s not like other guys, at least not to you. He was always so caring, so gentle and so loving with you. He was the one who was always there for you, and in fact, you were more than sure that if you two start something, you won’t end up being hurt. But the fact that your friendship was under a question because of it was making you scared. Touya is the only person you never want to lose, and he knew that very well.
,, What do you say doll? Wanna try?’’ he asked, as he kissed your jaw softly. You weren’t sure how were you even capable of thinking at all in that moment.
,, Yes’’ you breathed out, closing your eyes shut as you enjoyed his soft kisses. Could you really lose him? If you had to worry about it so much, you should worry about the very exact moment. Why wouldn’t the current event ruin your friendship, now that you know that he doesn’t really see you as a friend as much as you thought. If you start some kind of a relationship with him, and if it doesn’t work, the two of you could talk it out.
The moment you said yes, Touya grabbed your yaw with his right hand, brushing his nose with your own before he connected his lips with yours. Once you placed your hands on his cheeks, trying to get closer to him, he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.
What really drove him crazy was you rolling your hips on him. The fact that you had nothing else under your oversized shirt than your favorite panties almost made him cum in that very moment. Breaking the kiss, he leaned back into the seat, as you tried to catch your breath. Touya pulled your shirt up, exposing your naked chest. Not wasting any time, he placed his left on your right boob, pinching and twisting your already hard nipple, while sucking the other one.
Just the feeling of his hot breath made you throw your head back, enjoying the sucking and squeezing he was giving you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, finding support in it. Every roll you did with your hips, was met with his own one, making you feel his hard erection under his sweatpants. A quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt him bite on your nipple few times before he got back onto sucking it again.
Touya pulled your hips up a bit, giving you a sign to stay in that position as he pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, just enough for his dick to spring up. You knew that he had a dick piercing, in fact, you were in the waiting room when he decided to get it, but you still were shocked. It looked so good, so attractive.
You wanted to get out of his lap, you wanted to taste him, but his hands stopped you. Pushing you back onto his lap once again.
,, You have no idea how much I love you’’ he said, brushing his lips on your own, as he pushed your panties to the side and rubbed the tip of his dick around your hole.
,, I love you too, so much’’ you confessed, kissing him softly, as the pink head of his dick slowly entered you, hands on your hips slowly leading you down onto his length, until he was all in.
,, I know’’ Touya smirked into the kiss, enjoying the warmth of your walls hugging his dick. The hands on your hips slowly started to lead your hips up and down. The pace was so slow you could feel every inch of his dick rubbing against your velvety walls. Touya wasn’t one to enjoy the slow pace that much, but with you it was something else. He wanted to feel you as much as possible, and pushing his dick so slow into you gave him that possibility.
Just thinking about how it finally happened almost made him cream inside you. Closing his eyes, he let you move up and down his dick on your own. When you nuzzled your head into his neck he almost lost it, holding your hips down for few seconds just to calm his dick down. The small I love you that you whispered into his neck all over again didn’t help either, making it hard for him to control himself.
His hand found its way under your shirt, while his lips were all over your neck now, leaving sloppy marks all over it. You weren’t sure what did you enjoy more, his lips and hot breath over your neck, sucking and biting it, his hand squeezing your left breast or his dick deep inside you rubbing against your cervix.
Even tho you were moving your hips so slow, every time you were pushing your hips down, his would move upward, snapping against you with a little force and hitting your cervix perfectly. The both of you were breathing heavily, enjoying every second of the slow sex you had.
Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled your body closer to his, as he started moving just a little bit faster. You squeezed your eyes shut, as you realized that your climax was getting closer and closer with every move. Touya noticed your breathing getting faster, and your walls hugging his dick tighter then before, as he pulled your body up a bit, pushing you against the steering wheel and giving himself more access to move and fuck you a bit faster and stronger then before.
Moaning loudly, you wrapped your arms around him as you came all over his dick, almost shocked that you came without any clit stimulation. Dabi didn’t stop fucking you, helping you ride off the hard orgasm that just hit you.
Once he was sure you were done, he sat down. He lowered his seat, as he changed the position, locking you under him. Without giving you a chance to understand anything, he pushed his dick inside you.
,, I’m not done with you’’ he groaned, as he started moving his hips at much faster pace then before. Instead of saying anything, you wrapped your legs around him, placing your hands around his neck and just kissing him again. You couldn’t get enough of him, and luckily he felt the same. Accepting everything you had to offer, gladly.
The slow and steady pace was long forgotten, as he fucked you into the seat of his car with much more force and at one ungodly speed. You were pretty sure that the car was moving with every move he did, and you were sure if someone happened to be near, they would know what’s going on, but that was the last thing you cared of.
You were a moaning mess under him, and he was no better than you. You were surprised when you felt his hand around your throat, holding you in one place and playing with your breath. Open your mouth for me was all he said, before you felt thick saliva in your mouth. When it started, you thought it would be only some vanilla sex, the last thing you thought was that he would end up choking you and spitting in your mouth.
If it was someone else, you would probably freak out, but since it was him, you only obeyed, mouth open and tongue out, giving him approval for more.
,,That’s my good girl’’ he said, as he spat into your mouth one more time, while his grip around your neck only grew stronger. He was moving at rapidly speed, his skin slapping against your own was louder than the music that was playing in the background.
You closed your eyes as you started catching your breath once his hand moved away from your neck. Touya couldn’t control himself anymore, grabbing the edges of the seat, as he fucked into you. The pain mixed with pleasure was too intense for you, but you are his good girl, and you are doing so great for him, he made sure you understood that, as he repeated it all over again, while fucking into you.
The moment you felt his fingers rubbing your clit in circles, all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut, moaning loudly, as he told you to cum all over his dick, so you did as you were told and that was enough for him to reach his own high. Few harsh moves and he found himself cuming deep inside you. Even Toyua doesn’t know how did he find the energy to tell you how good you are milking his dick, but he did.
Collapsing on top of you, he fucked his seed inside of you, making sure not a single drop will get outside of your tight little out, making sure none of it will go to waste.
,, You’re mine’’ he said, placing soft kisses all over your face, and you were his. You were always his and he was always yours.
You weren’t sure how long would it take you to get over your stupid ex, but you were sure that Touya will be there for you and help you out in every way he can. Starting from the moment the two of you left your apartment, to the very moment the two of you cuddled inside of his car, after one steamy sex. All you could think of was your best friend and what would future bring you.
#smut#dabi fanfic#dabi headcanons#dabi smut#dabi todoroki#dabi x oc#romance#bnha fanfiction#bnha imagines#bnha x reader#yandere dabi x reader#dabi x reader#touya x y/n#touya fanfic#touya imagine#touya todoroki#touya#mha dabi#dabi#touya smut#mha smut#bnha smut
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May I pretty please have a nsfw Light x Fem!Reader fic where Light is horny af and tries to seduce the reader but since it’s so rare to see Light needy like that, the reader decides to use this and pretends like she’s busy etc. and drives Light crazy af which leads to angry Dom!Light sex ;)
WHEW i got outta breath just reading this req-
warnings: nsfw/smut, dom! light, degradation with slight praise, this one has more plot than usual i think
taglist: @ygm1slt
"Y/N, do you mind?"
You glanced up from the dozens of tan manilla folders you held in your hand, spread out like a hand of playing cards, each one filled with documents upon documents about the legend you and your coworkers were chasing. The stacks of papers felt like the scribblings of a child in your hand; useless to you, because you knew who Kira was already. Hidden in plain sight, he was the man who had just called your name from the front of the room where he sat, beckoning for you to come near.
You let out a long sigh under your breath, slowly placing the papers onto the desk you stood in front of. You and Light were not dating, no, in fact you could barely stand to be in the same room as the man. His aura was suffocating, despite the large and sprawling rooms of the headquarters building, you could always pinpoint just where Light was; you could feel his arrogant energy wafting off of him, making it clear who the superior one was in the room. It was asphyxiating, and his words were even worse. Everytime he called you to come closer to him, your heart skipped a beat- and though you were sure it was from disgust, you never denied any of his requests. Your love-hate relationship with him only made your interactions more intoxicating. You weren’t gonna deny yourself the excitement.
Your footsteps echo through the almost empty room as you walked towards Light, the only other people at the task force at the moment being L, Matsuda, and Soichiro, all of whom were working together on the right side of the room, their focus on L’s computer.
“What is it?” You ask as you approach Light, stopping next to him.
“I’d like to know your thoughts on this, a second opinion would be helpful.” He gestures towards his computer screen, which was packed with data you could barely read. As you attempt to decipher the text, Light places his hand on your upper thigh, gripping it horizontally. You hold back a gasp, trying not to draw attention to yourself. Light stares at you, your eyes unwavering from the screen in front of you.
“Umm, well, it’s....”
Light’s hand slides up your thigh, his fingers inching up your skirt and brushing the fabric of your panties. He moves his fingers slightly with the slowness of a lover brushing their thumb up and down your hand as you hold theirs. Your breath stutters as you found yourself craving a harder touch from the man you thought you hated.
You break your gaze from the computer screen and glance at Light- his eyebrows were turned downwards, and the image gave you an idea. You grab Light’s hand, peeling it from your leg and dropping it into his lap. “Actually, Light. I’m kind of busy with these documents right now, sorry.” You smile, walking away and returning to your spot at the other table.
You sort through the papers, your mind off of Light before you feel the vibration of your phone from the table. You check to make sure L wasn’t looking before checking your phone, opening the message notification.
Light Y.
brat.
You glance over your shoulder before typing a quick response.
Y/N
i’m sure i don’t know what you mean.
You place down your phone screen-first on the table and turn your ringer off, not bothering to see whatever quip Light would respond with. You catch him rolling his eyes out of the corner of your view before returning to his work. He places a hand over his mouth and throws one of his legs over the other, crossing them. You smirk to yourself.
This was a back and forth you and Light Yagami often shared ever since you joined the Japanese Task Force. Light, the esteemed man he is, never places doubt in his ability not only to seduce women, but to get what he wants, whatever that may be; in this case, it was you. You, on the other hand, prided yourself on being strong- a stubborn person with an unwavering will, someone who could out-work and out-show the men who thought they were better than you. Often you forgot the end goals of your little adventures to prove yourself better than, getting caught up in the chase of it all. You and Light’s relationship was a quite hectic blend of both of your guys’ stubborn behavioral habits, and neither of you would settle for losing.
-----------------
“Light-kun, it’s getting quite late. You two aren’t tired?” L asks, glancing at you and Light, as the three of you were the only ones remaining in the main area of task force headquarters. Everyone else had either gone home or gone to their designated rooms in the building.
“No, There’s a lot of work to be done so I’m fine with sacrificing a little sleep.” Light glances at you briefly. You knew he was expecting to be left alone with you, but you decide to push the envelope a little further. You refused to give into him; at this point, your ego and desire to not lose rivaled his.
“Actually, Ryuzaki, you’re right. I’m gonna head to bed.” You wave goodnight to the men, sending Light an innocent smile as you walk upstairs to your room.
You made yourself comfortable in your bed, as surprisingly Light had taken several hours to come upstairs- he didn’t want to chase after you, you assumed. Though, you could see how desperate he was through his facade.
Eventually, though, the door to your room opens with a creek, as Light steps his way inside and locks it behind him.
“Oh, hi Light. Do you need something?”
“Don’t play stupid.” Light runs his fingers through his caramel hair, frustrated. He walks over to where you sat on the edge of the bed, taking your jaw in his tight grip and forcing you to look at him.
“What was that all about, huh?” He places his hand on your leg, sliding further and further upwards as he speaks. “Teasing me as if you have the right. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I don’t appreciate the bratty behavior.” His fingers return to the position they were earlier, softly brushing up and down over your clothed heat. You bite your lip, holding back a moan; you weren’t going to give into him this easily. No, this was a competition for pride, and you were determined to win.
“Actually, Light,” You push his hands away from you, standing up, “I’ve had quite a long day. I’m gonna go get some rest, maybe you should too?” You remark before leaving, shutting the door behind you and finding another room to sleep in. You were going to win.
----------------
“Are you guys coming with?”
You stand in the main hub of task force headquarters near Light, as L was on a seperate floor working and the rest of the task force was getting ready to leave for lunch.
“No, sorry, I wanna finish this work as soon as possible. But Matsuda, do you mind bringing Y/N and I something back?”
You whip your head towards him with a sour look as he volunteered you to stay with him- alone.
“Sure, text me what you want!” Matsuda exclaims cheerfully before leaving with the other detectives.
The loud slam of the door echoing through the large half-vacant room did not draw your attention away from your work, as you were determined to remain focused.
“You know, Y/N,” Light stands up from his chair, approaching you from behind where you sat. You take in a breath, preparing yourself for the antics he was about to pull.
“You never did apologize to me.” He places his long slender hands on your shoulders from behind, slowly rubbing up and down.
“Apologize? What do I need to apologize for?”
“For being a fucking brat.”
Light abruptly grabs the sides of the chair and spins you around to face him, his nose almost poking yours and his hot breath tickling your face, flushing your cheeks red. You take the opportunity of your close proximity to lock eyes with him, slightly shaking your head no, your confidence unbreaking.
With haste, Light knots a finger in your hair and roughly pulls you towards the nearest table, shoving you chest-first into it. He smacks your ass, earning a yelp from you. “How hard is it to follow fucking instructions? God, is your ego that big?”
He creeps his hand up your legs, dipping under your skirt and pulling your panties down to pool around your ankles. He runs his fingers up your slit, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Just give into me...”
You shake your head as best you can with Light still gripping the roots of your hair and whine out a small “Nuh-uh.”
He dips two fingers inside you, curling his fingers upwords and making a beckoning motion inside of you. Quickly, he pulls his digits out, extending his hand to force you to suck on them. “Hmm, taste all that? It sure looks like you want to give into me...”
You pitifully whine around his fingers, pushing your backside to press against the bulge forming in his pants, asking for more.
“See? I knew you were needy for me.” He removes his fingers from your mouth and slips them back into your cunt, pumping in and out at a steady pace before adding a third finger. You pathetically squirm under his methodical movements; he was too good at this. You try to bite back your moans to save your confidence, but soon fail as Light scissors his fingers inside of you.
“Mm, I love the sounds you make, you sound like such a slut.”
Light increases his pace and depth, curling his fingers against your walls until his fingers were no longer visible. His manipulation of your senses drew your orgasam out quicker than you expected, causing you to clench against his digits. Light, sensing this, promptly removes his fingers from you, causing you to whine.
“Light...”
“What, you think I’m gonna let you finish?” He chuckles leaning down to speak in your ear, “Just say you’re sorry, Y/N. It’s not that hard, really.”
“I have nothing to apologize for.” You pant.
He smacks your backside again, the hand-print stinging with the frustration building up inside the man. “Don’t talk back to me, brat. You know, you’re really being difficult and I don’t appreciate it. Maybe I should just leave you here...” He removes his grip from you and begins to walk away, and you’ve never felt more alone without your arch enemy.
“No, Light...” You bite your lip as you call him, the swing to your ego panging your chest.
“Hm, what’s that?”
“Light...” You look away, feeling embarrassment bubble inside your stomach.
“You only get what you beg for, Y/N. I can’t hear you...” He walks closer to you, a smirk forming on his lips as he backs you against the table, “C’mon, pet. Beg for me to fuck you, I know you want to.” He places a soft touch on your clit, rubbing it slowly in circles.
Against everything you’ve been fighting for this whole time, against your pride, your body was aching and obeyed, “Light, Kira, I need you so badly, please, please just fuck me already.”
“Hm, I don’t know. Are you sorry?”
“Yes, yes, I’m really sorry.”
“For what?” His tone grows more stern.
“For being a brat, for teasing you, for not listening to you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, just please, touch me....”
Light hums in appreciation as he unbuckles his belt, tossing it on the floor and pulling himself out of his tan pants, “Mm, that’s Kira’s good girl, I knew you’d come around.” He pumps himself a few times, sliding the head of his cock up and down your slit, pushing slightly in every now and again just to evoke a mewl from you.
A slew of “please”s and begging whines spilled from your lips like a desperate prayer as Light continued his torturous teasing.
“You’re nothing but Kira’s pet, right?”
You nod rapidly.
“And you’d do anything for me? You’re mine, mine to use how I please and dispose of? Mine to use as a fucktoy?”
You nod again without question.
“Good, that’s what I like to hear.” Light rewards you, finally pushing himself inside of you after what felt like an eternity. He rocks his hips to meet yours as he stretches your walls out, the moans from both of you mixing in the echoey room.
“God, Y/N, you feel so good. All this time I’ve waited...”
“Fuck, Kira,” You cry, wrapping your legs around Light’s waist, pulling him as close as possible. Your fingers curl into the hard, cold desk beneath you in an attempt to grapple with the amount of stimulation you were receiving.
His forehead came to rest on yours as he pounded into you relentlessly, “God, you’re such a good little slut for me Y/N, yeah? Nothing but a dirty fucking slut for my cock, fuck you take me so well.”
“Light, I’m gonna cum...” Your loud moans were hiccuped by the rhythm of Light rocking into you.
“Cum for me Y/N, cum all over my cock like the slut you are, make a mess so everyone knows how good I make you feel, how you’re mine and only mine to use for my pleasure.”
The harsh words that tickled your face encouraged your on-coming orgasam as you soon came around Light. He continued to thrust into you until he threw his head back with a groan, cumming inside of you.
Light pulled himself out and tucked himself back into his pants, tidying up his appearance with still labored breath. “Don’t even bother to clean up,” He head tired at the sticky liquid that was leaking down your legs and dampening the table beneath you, “Everyone knows you’re just a slut anyways, might as well let them know you’re my slut.” He winks before leaving the main room, walking off into a seperate hallway presumably to collect himself.
You stood up from the table, still panting. The fight was over, you had lost. Lost. Lost to the man who always seemed to win despite being plagued by misfortune. You huff, pulling your clothes back on and allowing the sting of losing your pride battle with Light Yagami to overpower the pain you felt in your lower half.
#light yagami x reader#girlboss reader lol#light yagami x reader smut#light yagami#death note#death note smut#sugarylawliet
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Favor
⤷ dream x f!reader.
⤷ genre: angst, fluff
⤷ word count: 8.4k
⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!
— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.
It started as a favor.
On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.
“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.
“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.
“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.
“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.
“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”
“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.
“Whatever I want?” you parroted.
“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”
“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!”
“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.”
You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?”
“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.
“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.
“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.
“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.
A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”
“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.”
“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”
“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”
The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet?
It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.
“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.
“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.
“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”
A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.
Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.
A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.
An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend.
“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes.
“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you.
“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.
“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.
“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.
“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?”
He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed.
Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.
“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”
During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up.
“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.
“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.
“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.
“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.
“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks.
“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.
“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.
“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.
“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.
The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought.
“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.
“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him.
When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in.
“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him.
“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.
Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well.
“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you.
“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.
“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.
“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.
“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.
“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.
“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend.
“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?”
Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.
“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.
“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.
The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister.
“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.
“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!”
You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you.
You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.
She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out.
One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him.
It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else.
Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.
Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though?
By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place.
From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.
You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.
His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room.
That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.
That night, he went from Dream to Clay.
The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home.
It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.
“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”
You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.
“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”
“don’t kill me pls”
Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.
“WHY”
He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.
“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“
“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”
“just play along for a month or so”
“pls”
You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.
“i’ll promote you on my channel more”
“just pls do it”
“you love me, right”
Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.
“fine”
He messaged back immediately.
“THANK YOU”
“LOVE YOU <333”
With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait.
Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.
As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend.
Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.
George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin.
“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones.
“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.
You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.
“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.
You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.
No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?!
You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown.
He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.
And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream.
You rolled your eyes.
And then agreed anyway.
And so, the charade began.
His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive.
Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it.
You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.
“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people.
“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.
“I know so.” you responded.
“How?”
“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.
“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.
“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.
“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.
“Why, though?”
“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.”
“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.
“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.”
At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should.
A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.
That is, until you can’t anymore.
It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.
“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.
“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.
“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”
You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.
He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.
“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well.
“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.
“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.
“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.
“You could have one, though.”
The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.
“I could, I guess.”
You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.
Things are never the same again.
It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.
Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good.
Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good.
The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you.
And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.
Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you.
But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.
It eventually happens.
It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.
“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand.
“What?”
“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it.
“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.
“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.
“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.
“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.
“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”
You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty.
Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it.
You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was.
Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it.
You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.
The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.
You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.
“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.
“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning.
“Kiss me.”
It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.
“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.
“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.”
Silence. Deafening silence, once again.
“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”
And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.
And then, you burst into laughter.
“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.
“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.
“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.
“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”
“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.
“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good.
You suppose bad can be good, sometimes.
As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad.
They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.
#dreamwastaken x reader#dreamwastaken imagine#dreamwastaken fluff#dreamwastaken fanfic#dreamwastaken angst#dream x reader#dream x you#dreamwastaken x y/n
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harmless (xiii)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)
Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol
Word count: 6.2k
A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time).
big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights for this specific imagery
Previous Part || Series Masterlist
Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?
Saturday started normally enough.
Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.
He still thinks it was worth it.
The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.
Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.
He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.
Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.
He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.
An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado.
He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.
“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”
Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.
Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.
“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.
He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.
“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.
“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.
“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.
He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right.
The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch.
But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.
“Speak,” someone commands off camera.
“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.
“Why you’re here.”
“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”
“I warned you to take this seriously.”
Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation.
The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.
“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”
”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”
“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”
“On it.”
“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”
"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”
“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.
You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.
“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”
He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.
“You have to.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”
“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”
“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.
“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.
“Okay, jeez, fine.”
Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.
He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.
“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”
“Do you think she has a strategy?”
“Definitely.”
“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”
“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”
“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”
“Let them come. I’m prepared.”
“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”
“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”
“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”
“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”
“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”
The camera cuts to black.
“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.
“About ten minutes ago.”
Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.
[email protected] just sent you an email.
A video attachment.
“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.
This time, there’s a subject line included.
Attack on the Clone.
"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.
"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."
Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.
“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”
“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.
“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”
“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?
When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.
This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where
it was.
"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.
There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song.
Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and
surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.
"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email
untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"
"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."
It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries.
"And they listened?"
"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."
"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."
Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.
"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”
“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.
“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”
They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.
“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.
“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”
“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”
Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.
__
For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.
True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.
He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.
The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.
He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.
Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.
He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.
A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.
“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.
“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.
“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons.
They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.
“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him.
______
“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough.
“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.
“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.
“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second.
“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”
“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”
“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”
“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.
“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”
“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.
“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”
His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.
“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”
“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.
“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”
“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.
“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”
“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”
“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?”
“Megedagik,” he corrects.
You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”
A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red.
“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”
“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.
The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.
“Slow and painful,” he settles.
A small smirk makes its way onto your face.
“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.
_____
It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.
Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there.
Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?
His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them.
He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.
“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.
The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground.
“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”
A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.
He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.
He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder.
Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats.
It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.
There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.
“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand.
“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.
“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”
“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”
“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”
“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”
“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”
He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”
“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”
A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.
“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”
You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.
You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”
The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.
“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”
“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.
“Yay.”
The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under.
“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”
“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.
He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.
“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”
He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.
“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.
"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.
“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”
“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”
“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place. He didn’t touch anyone, ever.
“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.
“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”
“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”
“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.
“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.
“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”
“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”
He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it.
“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt.
“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.
“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then.
“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.
“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.
“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.
The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower.
“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”
“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.
“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”
“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”
If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.
“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.
“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”
“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”
There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.
“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.
“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.
Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place.
There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them.
“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.
“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.
“Maybe I will, you bore.”
Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.
You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine.
“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.
He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.
“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack.
“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door.
“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind.
“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel.
You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited.
“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist.
The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.
Another you.
“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.
“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest.
“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.
Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.
“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”
“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.
“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.
“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.
“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.
“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”
No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.
“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”
“Can’t really say the same about you.”
“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”
He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”
“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”
“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment.
“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”
“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”
“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”
“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”
“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.
He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.
The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”
“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.
“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind.
“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.
“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”
“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”
“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”
“Two.”
“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”
He thinks it’s good relationship development.
“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”
“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”
“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”
“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”
Busted.
“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”
“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”
“You literally put it in the title.”
“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”
“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”
“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”
His nose twitches.
“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.
“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing.
“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”
“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”
“No,” he says stiffly.
“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”
There was no winning this.
“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.
“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”
“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”
“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”
“Doesn’t count.”
“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”
“Bye, Y/N.”
“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”
“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”
“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”
He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.
You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”
He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.
You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.
“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.
“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.
“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”
“But you don’t.”
He really didn’t.
also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed
Next part
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#harmless fic#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier#bucky barnes#bucky
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Rush Hour
Pairing | Sebastian Stan x reader
Summary | whilst on the way to an interview, you and Sebastian are stuck in traffic. There seems to be only one way to pass the time that comes to mind.
Warnings | smut, fingering, teasing, slight voeyurism I guess (on the phone?)
QUICK LINK TO MY MASTERLIST IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF MY CRAP 😬
It was stressful, viewing how parades of cars, lined up in their designated sections filled the large road. It appeared as none of them were going to start moving for a while, and it made you bite your lip in frustration. Out of all days, it had to be this very one, when you had to assign your presence within a specific slot of time.
You and Sebastian had even left early, as insurance that you would arrive at your destination on time, but now, you had severe doubts that you would. And those doubts, within the past few minutes, had became incredible high. It looked as though there was no chance of escaping this frozen parade for the current and important time being.
Even the simplicity of looking out the window made you slightly mad, you had places to be, as you assumed many other people that were under the same predicament were too, but for the meanwhile, you weren’t going anywhere. The lines of vehicles were stuck in some kind of limbo, stricken by the same thundering of karma at once.
Your significant other was behind the wheel, tapping his long fingers upon the round gear, causing your attention to divert up to his talented digits. As you studied them and their smooth exterior, an idea rendered in your fuming mind, and so, to put it into action, you slyly placed one of your own hands to rest upon his upper thigh.
Sebastian, instead of waving off the affection, smiled at it, thinking that it was nothing more than a tender instinct to also calm him down. The bet was, his agent would have his ass for showing up late, well aware that they had been the one to arrange this press in order to promote the latest of your shared projects.
However, he had not expected in this bustling, and public surrounding moment that you would creep your grip up higher, and so he tensed as you did just that. But he chose to allow you to continue for now, his front deep digging solely into his lower lip to express some of the tension that he was under whilst stuck in the car.
It was impossible to predict how long the pair of you would be stuck in the moving box, and it seemed that you had configured a way in your mind to pass it. One that had lead to your fingers dancing over his trousers, and making him groan lightly in anticipation.
His cobalt eyes snapped towards you though as you removed your hand. To put it simply, you were teasing him, riling him up in the constricted amount of space. It relented you no escape from him, nor his uptake in revenge. And as you shrouded under his gaze against the inside of the passenger side door, you gulped.
Perhaps, you thought, you should have just kept your hands to yourself. And then, you would not have been stuck in this predicament of being cursed with his winter glare; it made you feel like melting ice cowering into the level below. For a second, you wished the controls of the radio volume had the ability to reverse time, so that you could correct your mistake.
The feeling of his hands abandoning the wheel, considering that the car was not going to be continuing moving on the road for a while, and drifting towards the bottom seam of your skirt had you inhaling as much air as your lungs would allow. It would not be the first instance of which he put his earnest skin upon yours in public, but with all around being still on one spot, a part of you worried sincerely of a noticed fan grabbing their phone with their clammy hands, and recording the interaction.
And if done, the interval, whilst stuck in one, would be painted sourly over the entire internet. There would be an assortment of clashing reviews; some lustful and imagining what it would be like to be trapped in the car with you two, and others shaming of your indecency. And to say the magazines and online articles would have a field day, well, that would be an understatement.
Seb drifted his feather light touch up higher, brushing just above the border that labelled the end of your outfit. Instead of say anything that compromised his mission, you settled back into your seat, sinking your head into the designed rest, and opened your legs a little, permitting him no resistance to do as he pleased; all because, you wanted the satisfaction and fulfilment of the adult acts too.
Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, squashing it beneath the carnivorous bone, as his hands danced elegantly around beneath the complimentary fabric. He toyed with you, by stroking his fingers over the thin material of your underwear, expertly putting pressure down upon your covered bud, confiscating a breathy whine out of your closed mouth. “You’re already wet.” A damn smirk coveted itself upon his healthy lips, your eyes flickering between the seductive sight, and that hidden beneath your clothes.
“Do something.” It wasn’t an order on your part; it was a sensual beg, in other terms, your sexual starvation put into words. The air from your lungs was practically ripped away as your partner delved his explorative fingers into the privacy of your garments, the pads of his delirium causing fingers heading straight towards your swollen and puffy clit.
With no hesitancy, you head rolled sideways to rest against the window, your breath frosting carelessly against the glass. Instead of caring about what was being viewed from the outside of the car, you focused on what could be seen from within the space of the front two seats. And so, you pushed up your skirt, giving the pair of you an explicit image of his hand roaming beneath the divider that kept your crotch from the barren air.
“Like this?” Sebastian taunted, sinking a finger into your sopping hole, causing your eyelashes to flutter at the sensation. A furrow worried his face however, even as he stayed still, not moving his digit, all due to the ringing of his phone. Using his free hand, he picked up the device, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”
As he began to converse, he slowly paced his finger in and out of you, the thought of him finger fucking you whilst on the phone making you that much wetter. “No, me and y/n are going to be late, there’s traffic.” You assumed that he was speaking to his agent, and as you mewled, he left you empty, bringing his finger to his mouth to clean.
“I don’t know how long it’s going to be until the road clears.” Seb sighed, after removing his slick coated digit from his mouth, pouring a little spit onto it, and bringing it down to rest on you clit. Shuffling, you leant back as far as the seat belt allowed you to have both of your feet to be perched on the end of the passenger side, knees tucked up your body willing to take whatever he would so much as give to you.
“Seb.” At the sound of his voice falling so erotically from his lips, a crease formed between his eyebrows, and so, as punishment for interfering with the static of his phone, he pinched your clit, and to cease the audible response, you bit into the palm of your hand, leaving indents of your teeth begins.
“I can’t make it go any faster.” You were not sure whether he was speaking to you or his agent. But it didn’t matter, not as he began to roll your clit between his fingers, paying the button ample attention, that had your head going all fuzzy and thoughtless.
“As much as I wish I could clear up this whole parade of stuck cars, I can’t.” He deliberately shook his head, purposely looking away from where he was playing with you to keep focused on the phone call, despite still rubbing tight circles around your bud. “She’s fine, in fact, she’s fallen asleep. Y/n will be all rested and content if we get there.”
Rested was a word that you were opting against, but if you were going to be privileged with being made content, then who were you to argue with him? So you remained silent, biting onto anything that could silence you, to keep yourself satisfied and ensuring that he would keep some truth behind his words. “See what you can do, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With little to no reluctance, he dropped his phone onto his lap, it meeting and causing some friction against his semi. But the awakening in his trousers was not his priority, instead it was the slick that was collecting so wholesomely on his fingers, acting as a natural lubrication to continue his round administrations.
“Sebby.” This time, instead of trying to silence you, the man marked you with a pleasant grin, only to apply more pressure behind his movements. It was a wicked deed, but you had no mind to it as it served no bother; instead, you were rather pleased that he was to be giving in on his pardoning.
“You going to cum for me darling?” His words were almost taunting, you could feel a flush of heat cascade up your neck and all around your body. And all from clitoral stimulation, this man certainly knew what he was doing. “Cum on my fingers baby, make them all nice and wet.”
Plunging your teeth once more into your bottom lip, you groaned, shutting your eyes and breathing steadily throughout your nostrils. And with that, you shattered underneath him, your shoulders twinging from the spasming aftershocks that riddled your body senseless.
“Would you look at that, the cars are slowly beginning move.” You needn’t have even needed to open your y/e/c eyes to know that there was an amused smirk contouring his features; that man sure could get cocky sometimes, and half of those happened to be in public.
#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan smut#seb stan smut#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian x y/n#sebastian stan fic#sebastian stan oneshot#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan x you#sebastian x reader#seb x reader#seb x you#sebastian stan fluff#imagines#imagine#xreader#smut#marvel x reader#marvel smut#mcucastxreader#mcu smut#marvel x y/n#marvel imagines#marvel masterlist#marvel female reader insert#sebastian stan reader
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I JUST SAW FIGHT CLUB AND HOOOLLYYY-
Bro could you IMAGINE FightClub!Bakugo?
Tw:noncon, language, harassment
Okay okay get this: you’re down in the basement listening to the usual men holler and punch each other around while you do your job as their cute little “accountant”. While many of them have good jobs and a real life, the actual members don’t have time or the intellect to juggle the numbers and money around as fast as you can. You’ve been coming here for a while now, and you’re used to the jeers and wolf-whistles coming your way since you’re basically one of the few or only women who dare to come down here.
But there’s one fighter who just can’t seem to take no for an answer.
Bakugo fucking Katsuki.
The man is ruthless, he’s relentless, he’s a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. You swear he’s had to have taken a shitload of steroids in his youth, otherwise how else could he have built up that much muscle? There’s no way an average gym-goer has that kinda build.
He’s always the first and the last one out in the rink, swaying back and forth with his fists up, a twisted grin on his face that was so reminiscent of a wolf before it lunges for its prey.
It usually took more than two men to pull him off the unconscious bodies that he had just beaten to a pulp, effectively breaking one of Fight Clubs Rules: get up when someone is down.
But he’s too good to let go, no one has the balls to tell him to take his money somewhere else since they’re all scared shitless of him.
Which leads him to believing that he’s practically a god down here, that he can conquer anything: including you.
No one really calls it harassment because no one really cares. What’s so wrong in a guy having a little crush? What, you came down here seeing all this testosterone but you can’t deal with it yourself? Don’t be a prudish bitch.
“Bakugo, I’m at work right now, I don’t want to.”
“C’mon toots, this ain’t even real work, you’re just fumblin’ my hard earned cash.” He grins slyly and crosses his bulging muscular arms, leaning against the doorway of the little office you’re given to work your magic.
You turn in your rickety seat and glare at him, ignoring the way he licks his lips and lets his eyes roam all over your body. “If I’m so shit at my work then go somewhere else and stop bothering me.”
He chuckles in his baritone voice and shakes his head at you. “Naw, can’t do that sweets. If I did then I’d never be able to see your pretty face again now, could I?” Bakugo leers at you and you turn your face in disgust.
“I don’t wanna go out for lunch, or ever with you. Now get out before I have to call someone in here.”
“Oh, is that so?” He uncrosses his arms and steps through the threshold, his body growing larger and more menacing as he slowly draws closer to you. Luckily a fight had broken out near the office months ago so there was no more door from the aftereffects, but that didn’t mean you felt safe even with open space.
“G-get out. I’m serious, Bakugo-“
“-Call me Katsuki, angel. And you don’t really mean that, do you? Look at you, you can barely look me in the eye when you say such mean things.” His voice drops an octave as he comes to stand in front of your seated form, towering above your wide eyes, clenched fists and trembling figure.
He leans down and you flinch and gasp as his breath ghosts over your face. He places both arms on either side of your chair so you have nowhere to look but him.
“You’re such a nice breath of fresh hair down here, through all the blood and violence. You’re like a flower...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear and breaths out a laugh when you turn your head and squeeze your eyes shut.
“A flower, so fragile...a flower that smells so fucking good...” you feel like you can’t properly breathe as he leans in next to your ear and inhales deeply.
“A flower waiting to be deflowered herself.”
“What’s going on here?” A lanky body in the doorway appears.
Bakugo pulls back and turns his head ever so slightly towards the dude, growling under his breath at the interruption.
“We’re in the middle of something here, so you can just get the fuck ou-“
“-Well, it doesn’t really look like she’s into whatever you’re doing,” the man scoffs and takes in your pale face and shaking hands.
Bakugo stands to his fullest height, almost neck and neck with the man at the door.
“Yeah? I didn’t hear a complaint from her.” He cocks his head and stretches, allowing his muscles to ripple with each movement, something that didn’t go unseen by your much skinnier savior.
But he doesn’t back down. He only swallows and rubs the back of his neck.
“Well, we’re all being called out to put our bets in for the next match anyways, so you better come out before we get our asses kicked.”
The blond grumbles about weak men and no balls, then casts a dark look at your frozen figure before shouldering past the man at the door, almost knocking him down.
As soon as he’s out of your line of vision, you exhale and relax into your seat.
“You okay?” The fallen soldier scrambles back up and cautiously approaches you, looking over your body in a way that didn’t remind you of Bakugo undressing you with his eyes...rather, it was a protective, and worried once-over.
“Yeah, he’s just...a lot to handle sometimes. Doesn’t know when to quit.” You laugh shakily and run a hand through your hair.
“No wonder the dude’s a menace. He’s used to getting what he wants, I guess.” The man acknowledges this grimly, and for the first time you’re relieved that finally someone hasn’t turned a blind eye to your harassment.
“Are they really calling us down for bets?”
“No, I just said that to get him off your ass. Didn’t seem like you liked whatever he was doing.”
You give him a wobbly smile and he returns it.
“Sooo we should probably run before he comes back up here, right?”
“Oh most definitely,” you actually giggle before leaping out of your seat and joining the man to bound up the steps two at a time to freedom.
You both end up bonding pretty well over the weeks, even going out for coffee and lunch dates here and there. You’ve come to really like him, his shyer demeanor more than a majority of the ragtag men down in the basements, his chivalry refreshing to you amongst the blood and foul language thrown around the ring.
You feel like a woman with him, not some piece of ass like you were used to.
Bakugo noticed all this, of course. You started avidly avoiding him, ducking your head down and hiding behind your new ally before he could open his coarse mouth and stalk towards you. He couldn’t find you in your dingy office anymore either, because your savior was up in a cafe doing the calculations with you, laughing away about the latest matches.
That has to change. Effective immediately.
“Yo, newbie. How you been? Haven’t seen you fightin’ here for a while,” Bakugo claps his meaty hand on the scrawny guy’s back, nearing sending him toppling over.
“Yeah, y’know, just haven’t been feeling it lately.” He rubs the stinging feeling away from his sore shoulders and side eyes the blond suspiciously. He had seen firsthand just how bad-news of a guy he was, and he didn’t wanna get caught up in all that.
But Katsuki wasn’t just all brawn. He had some brains, too.
“Look, I know I prolly gave off a weird first impression with Y/N back then. But it’s all in good health, ‘was just messin’ around like I always do.”
“Yeah, sure...”
“How ‘bout we get some coffee or somethin’? You seem like a solid dude, plus we got shit in common to talk about.”
Like fucking around with my bitch.
“Uh, you sure? I kinda’ wanted to see the last fight,” he trails off unsuredly, scratching his jaw as Katsuki steers him away from the growing crowd.
“There’ll always be fights, man. I wanna show you that I’m a nice guy.”
Bakugo Katsuki was not a nice guy.
And everyone knew that too, which is why when some shifted to give the duo a curious glance he met them with a death glare. Any gazes locked on Katsuki’s hand wrapped around the lanky guy’s shoulders were immediately casted down.
You didn’t see your savior for a while.
It had been two weeks since he mysteriously disappeared from his usual place in the outskirts of the crowd, because unbeknownst to you, a certain fighter was keeping him away from you and convincing him to have a friendly brawl over lunch.
You only found out about it on a Friday night, when a crowd much bigger than before was gathered in the dim basement, voices hushed and whispering.
“What’s going on? Why’s everyone so quiet?” You whisper to one of the usuals.
“‘Heard Bakugo’s fighting some dude that was handpicked by himself. He somehow managed to convince the poor bastard to have some kinda’ match with him.”
You felt your heart sinking.
“Who did he pick?”
“‘Dunno, some skinny guy, a newbie I think. Hasn’t been around for too long so I guess he doesn’t know how big of a monster he’s gonna be beaten by.” The groupie shrugged, and you felt the blood drain from your face.
Without saying another word, you spun around and started running around all over the place looking for either of the two.
You end up stumbling into the men’s bathroom, desperate beyond salvation to stop this bloodbath.
He’s there, he’s at the urinal and he yelps when he hears you barge in. You avert your eyes and let his adjust himself as he sputters indignantly.
“Y/N? What’re you doing in here? This is a men’s-“
“Don’t fight him.”
“What?”
“Don’t fight Bakugo, please, he’s gonna kill you, I know he is-“
“-Calm down, what’re you so worked up about? C’mon, I would’ve thought you’d had a little bit more faith in me to be able to stand my ground.” He teases you but you don’t find it funny, on the contrary you’re terrified out of your mind for his life.
“Did he put you up to this? How could you fight him, you’ve seen what he does to the other guys in the ring!”
“Well yeah, but he knows not to go that hard on me. Actually, he’s not that bad of a guy, we’ve gotten some drinks for the past two weeks and I was wrong about him.”
You gape at him. “Wrong? You saw how he cornered me that one day!”
He shrugs, not put off by the distant memory. “The guy just came back from a fight, he still had testosterone going through him. You can’t blame him for wanting to let a bit of it out, right? You should really give him a chance y’know, he talks about you all the t-“
But you can’t hear anymore, this is madness, there’s barely 10 minutes left until they’re going to call the two down for their death match. You need to find the source of this problem firsthand.
And somehow, a little voice inside your head tells you exactly where you know he is.
You round the corner to your office and there he is in all his glory, seated like a king on your chair, leaned back with his knees spread, carelessly looking through your bank statements and bet papers.
He barely looks at you as he says, “Oh there you are, I was starting to think you’d miss the show.”
You sink to your knees.
He looks up at that.
With a tight chest and burning eyes, your dry throat barely permits you to choke out, “Bak-Katsuki, please, please don’t do this. Please don’t fight him.”
He cracks his neck and leans forward, regarding you with dark vermilion eyes. He looks your position over appreciatively before speaking.
“Why not? He’s so good and great isn’t he? I’m just trying to show you how right you were, after all. I’m sure he’s got a fair chance of beating me.”
You shake your head vigorously, knowing what he’s playing at.
“No, no, you’re better, please. I was wrong about him, I shouldn’t have been friends with him, please don’t fight him Katsuki I’ll do anything-“
“-Oh you’ll do anything I say regardless of if I beat him to a bloody pulp or not. You wanna know why?”
You can barely contain a whimper as he stands and walks over right in front of you, his bulging crotch mere inches away from your face.
He suddenly grabs your hair and you cry out before he yanks your head up to meet his cold eyes.
“Because no one in here is gonna say shit to me. I run things here, toots. And if you want your little boy toy to live through today, you’re gonna watch every blow I give to him, and you’re gonna kiss the fucking knuckles I beat his face with. Got that?”
You sob as he grinds his clothed erection against your tear-streaked face, sniffling when he moans loudly and bucks into your open mouth.
A loud knock on the bare hinges stops Bakugo from pulling the front of his shorts down.
You both turn your heads and see a red-faced side-liner looking down and mumbling something about the match starting.
“‘Be there in a minute. Tell the guys to give my girl here a special front-row seat to this match, she’s gonna wanna see her man win, after all.”
The runner scampers off, leaving you both alone.
He bares his teeth down at you and you cower under his painful hold, the roots of your hair ripping from their strands.
He eventually tosses your head to the side after a few seconds of staring you down, and the second he does you clutch your sore cranium.
“I better see you down there in a minute sweet thing. You gotta get used to it anyways, since you’re gonna be getting accustomed to my rituals before and after matches.”
#tw:noncon#bakugo x you#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo oneshot#bakugo katsuki#mha#bnha#bnha smut#mha smut#bakugo smut#katsuki smut#katsuki x y/n#katsuki scenario#mha yandere#bnha yandere
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Sugar Daddy turned sour
Request: Hi!!!! read all of ur works its all amazing cant believe ur new.. can i request for a yan sugar daddy taehyung x reader x yan sugar daddy jungkook. they found out that that y/n have 2 sugar daddies and they lost their sanity(as if they even have that)...Thank u and YOU GOOD,KEEP GOING💜💞💞💞💞😘😁
A/N: I don't know how to post a reply to a personal message yet because I am new and Tumblr deficient 😅 But I hope you like the scenario ^-^ thanks for the request 💜
Here for Part 2
Summary: Juggling two guys and getting everything you want from them has always been easy for you, and Taehyung and Jungkook are no exception. Or so you thought.
Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, assault, cheating, violence.
Yandere! Taehyung
Yandere! Jungkook
Sunday. Taehyungs day.
You open your webcam, checking your eyeliner quickly in the startup view as you wait for the Tae to pick up on the other side. He pops up quickly a beaming smile filling his face.
“Y/n! Baby, I’ve missed you.” He’s radiant. As happy and as bubbly he always is.
You go along listening to him excitedly run through his past few days, telling you everything in excruciating detail as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another. He may be an adult but he certainly has a young soul. The whole while you feign attention, your fingers continually fidgeting with the diamond necklace or the matching bracelet he had sent you a few weeks back.
“How was your weekend?” He finally gets around to asking.
“Not so good. I always have to work so much," You complain, batting your eyes at the camera.
“You could always quit and come live with me.” He jokes-but not really. It’s a topic he has raised 3 times already. And you have the same answer ready as always.
“Daddy, you know I’m a strong and independent woman. I could never let someone else pay for me.” You pout, running your tongue over your lower lip while pushing your chest up a little to draw attention. “It’s just my rent is so expensive. I feel like I work just to pay the bills.”
In truth, your rent is already being covered by someone else. But he doesn’t need to know that.
While you continue to run through the fabricated details of your weekend, Taehyung is distracted, looking down at his phone. You know what's happening. It’s like a game. And you’re winning. Your banking app sends a notification, letting you know that K. Taehyung has just sent you a payment.
You open it up. Yep. That's rent for the month. Or more, money for that new TV you wanted.
“Oh! Daddy, noo.” You whine down the camera. “You can’t. I am okay. Really. Please don’t spend your money on me.” You frown if only to stop the smile that is fighting to fill your face.
“I want to baby. I have the money, and I just want you to be happy. Don’t stress about bills okay. I’m here.”
Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.
“Okay Daddy, if you insist.”
Tuesday. Jungkooks day.
With Jungkook it’s a much more straightforward transaction. He has said he wants to pay for you and he hates the back and forth pretences. He just wants you to say thank you, smile pretty, and give him all your attention.
“Do you need anything more for the week?” He asks through the camera.
“No Daddy, you take such good care of me. Thank you.” You smile.
“You still have the weekend of the 14th off?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively. Off-screen you quickly scan through your calendar.
14th, 15th and 16th: Jk weekend.
Hmm, that came up quicker than you expected. You try to keep your booty calls with them as far apart as possible.
“Of course, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You say, it been less than 100% truthful.
“Months.” He corrects with a surreptitious undertone.
“Where are we staying this time?”
You always insist to stay in hotels. Because ‘your apartment feels too busy and mundane, and you want the time you spend with him to be magical and undistracted’. Honestly, you just don’t want him, either of them, in your personal space. You purposefully chose boys who live a few hours away. It’s hard enough to keep them separated in your everyday life with them being far away. It could only get messy for them to know where you live and how to reach you in person.
You’ve certainly gotten smart at this. Arranging the two men into different days of the week, scheduling them into your calendar to keep them apart and unaware of the other. Both had specifically said very early on that they do not want to share you with anyone else. And that you were all theirs. And while both of them seemed to trust you, you knew their reactions would be unpleasant, to say the least, if they found out about the other.
Sugar Daddies can be so possessive.
But while both these men are very handsome, money is better and more reliable than boys. And if they are stupid enough to spend it all on you, why should you care.
The week passes quickly and it’s the 14th. Once more you find yourself in the lobby of a 5-star hotel. Jungkook arrived in town early and sent you a message with the room number.
Time to actually work for your money.
You knock on the door only to find it slightly open. Entering there is a trail of rose petals lining the floor leading into the suite. All the lights are dimmed with a warmth of candlelight filling the room. This is so typically Jungkook. Pulling out all the stops to try to impress.
Dropping your bag at the entrance, you close the door behind you and explore inwards.
“Daddy?” You call out in a singsong voice. Your heels clack on the tiled floor as you round the corner into the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the lounge, one leg crossed over the other, arms rested up over the back. You smile at seeing him. You always seem to forget just how stunning he is in person.
“Which one of us are you referring to?” A deep voice startles you from behind. You jolt, spinning to see Taehyung standing behind you leaning against the wall.
Holy fuck.
Your mind starts to jumble through what is happening. Thinking about what it was that might have given you away. Evaluating how much they may know. And planning your next move.
Damn it. You doubt you’ll be able to smooth talk your way out of this with Jungkook. He’s too direct and absolute. So you’ll just have to accept that that relationship is over. However, you might be able to salvage this situation with Taehyung if you play your cards right. Being defensive should do the trick.
“What is this?” You snap, keeping focused on Taehyung. “This is such a violation of my privacy! You keep smothering me Taehyung! See this is why I tried to find someone else to hang out with.” You stomp your foot. He would always wrap around your finger so quickly with the little girl act.
“Ha!” He blurts out a short laugh in contradiction to how you expected him to react. “Wow. No, go on. I want to see where this is going.”
“Do you think we only just found out about each other?” Jungkook pipes up, coming from the couch.
You sigh. You had almost saved enough for a holiday to the Maldives too. But they seem to know too much. Fine. You can burn both relationships. They were starting to get too clingy anyway. “Whatever.” You roll your eyes. You got all you could from them. Time to move on to the next.
As you shrug them off, Taehyung steps into the path of the front door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Both he and Jungkook start to close in tighter. There is a cold tone to his words. Something far too close to a threat for your comfort. Even in heels, both men naturally stand taller than you which usually wouldn’t bother you. But with an unsteadiness to your footing and a very short dress on, in a dark room with two men you have used and spurned, you are feeling even more vulnerable than you feel you should.
“Move.” You order.
A smirk on his lips, Taehyung lifts his hand up and backhands you, knocking you back a few stumbled steps. You gasp, your hand clinging to your cheek, eyes wide in shock. He starts forward, Jungkook intervening, standing between the two of you.
You can not believe he just hit you! He has never done anything like that before.
“No, don’t do that.” He stops Taehyung as he starts to swing again. Shaking all over, you’re relieved that one of them is seeing sense. You take the outstretched hand of Jungkook, lip trembling from the burn on your cheek. He draws you closer and you wrap into him for protection. In the same motion, his free hand swings down punching you in the stomach, doubling you over, dropping you to the floor. “If you hit her head, she might get spaced out. I want her to feel this.”
His words send a chill down your spine. This can not be happening.
“Are you crazy!” You gape, trying to speak while gulping down air. Your head is dizzy, your lungs burning. Kicking off your heels for better movement, you climb back up to your feet not wanting to engage either man. Eyes focused you look past Taehyung to the door, storming forward. “I’m leaving. We’ll forget all of this, okay.” You bargain through short, panicked breath.
Taehyungs large hand slams you into the wall, pressing his palm against your shoulder. He follows Jungkooks lead, pounding his fist into your gut. And then again. And again. His hold removes letting you free and you plummet to the ground, crying within broken huffs while cradling your battered torso.
“You’re right. That is better.” He laughs at Jungkook.
“Stop!” You beg, unable to raise your voice above a soft yelp.
“What's wrong baby? You wanted two men. Now you have them.” Taehyungs bright smile returns to his face. This time with an entirely different meaning than it had ever had until it shifts into a straight, harsh look that you have never seen from him. “Didn't you always say you wished there was some way you could repay me?”
“You said that to me too.” Jungkook joins his side, both hovering above you, trapping you between them, the wall, and the floor.
Leaning down Jungkooks hand follows you as you squirm away from him. His fingers wrapped around your throat and lift you up, keeping you against the wall. He takes advantage of you being stuck, leaning into you pressing his lips to yours as you resist as much as you can.
“Baby, you’re going to pay us back for every dollar we spent on you.” He snarls.
Taehyung turns your face to him, also forcing a kiss on you. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll see that we know how to share.”
Part 2
#yandere bts#yandere jungkook#yandere taehyung#sugadaddy#cheating#bts smut#bts fanfic#bts#yandere#yandere bangtan#taekook#bts reactions#bangtan reactions#jungkook#taehyung
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AS YOU WISH ― SERAPH OF THE END.
content warning(s) ; none.
characters ; guren + shinya (gureshin fic.)
Guren doesn’t like labels. He thinks there’s too many attached to his name already, ―and he isn’t keen on adding anymore. Shinya doesn’t much care either way, as long as he can have the ravenette here, just like this, every now and again. A comfortable silence hangs in the room, which isn’t uncharacteristic. As much as they bicker and banter back and forth, the both of them know that silence goes a long way these days. It’s much preferred to the trying sounds of war. . . Screaming, howling, a sea of bitterness lapping at everyone’s ankles. Because nobody is truly happy living in this world. Unless, of course, you happen to be a high-ranking vampire noble, because then you can delight in the suffering of humanity at your fingertips. Fortunately enough, both Shinya and Guren are content with the idea of suffering for the greater good, ―for the furthering of a cause. And they seek refuge in one another every now and again. They might be content with fighting for their plights, but finding peace within them is a completely different subject altogether. Instead, they’ve made peace with. . . Whatever it is that they feel for one another, no labels necessary.
Shinya sits on Guren’s bed, unbothered by the dirty, tattered sheets that haven’t been washed in heaven knows how long. It might bother him more if the elder male actually used the bed at night as most normal people do, but frankly, Shinya wagers that he uses Guren’s bed more often than Guren himself does. Besides that, the unclean sheets and discolored pillows are thick with Guren’s scent, and at the risk of sounding too sentimental, ―Shinya likes that. His blue eyes catch the light as he looks toward the foot of the bed where Guren is still going over papers, frustration written all over his face. Shinya would offer to be of assistance, but he knows he’s useless in that department. He’d certainly only get in the way of the raven-haired male’s semi-fluid workflow. So instead, Shinya watches, noting the little things, like the way Guren’s eyebrows furrow together in annoyance and the way his lips form around curse words with so much unadulterated tenacity.
He won’t put a label on this feeling that rises in his chest, of course, but if he had to under some very specific, obscure scenario, Shinya’s fairly certain he’d be right to call it love. After all, it takes something very strong (be that emotions or alcohol,) to be able to put up with Guren in all his states and still find the good in him. Even now, as Shinya watches him grumble to himself in agitation, a scowl etched onto his handsome face, ―the younger male still thinks he’s the best thing to come out of this war for him.
“You’re staring,” Guren states blandly as he glances in Shinya’s direction.
He doesn’t seem particularly upset about it, though. Instead, he says it like he’s making a simple observation.
“Couldn’t help myself,” Shinya replies with a shrug.
He absolutely could have helped himself. He just didn’t want to.
“What are you even doing?” He finally asks, switching positions on the creaky bed like a feline, “―you’ve been glued to those papers for half an hour now.”
“Yeah, well, someone has to do it,” Guren answers flatly, “these reports are from the higher ups. They’re theorizing about locations the vamps might strike in the coming days. But it’s all hearsay at best, and I have no idea what they’re expecting me to do with any of it. It’s like they think I can split myself into different parts and lead seven different squadrons at once.”
“You know how they are,” Shinya replies, “always wanting others to clean up their messes and play their pawns for them.”
That said, Shinya reaches over to place two hands on either of Guren’s shoulders. The latter doesn’t complain. He offers up a passive massage with his thumbs, smiling softly when Guren rolls his neck to the tempo of his movements.
“When’s the last time you slept?” He asks, then braces himself for the answer.
“Good question,” the raventte chuckles, “your guess is probably as good as mine.”
Shinya stops massaging Guren’s shoulders to give him
a look of disapproval. Admittedly, this conversation spikes a sense of deja vu. The silver haired male can’t be bothered to recount all the times they’ve gone over this. It always ends the same way. He scolds his companion for his lackluster selfcare, reminds him that lots of people are counting on him, and is quickly brushed under the rug when Guren predictably tells him that if anything happens to him, he’s confident that Shinya can step up to take his place. That doesn’t solve the root of the issue, of course, but the younger can never seem to refute that. Maybe he’s scared that Guren might revise the statement if he continues to push him on it.
“You have this bed for a reason, it’s not here for decoration,” Shinya says.
“I’d hope not, ―look at the damn thing. For as little as it's been used, it’s clearly been through the wringer.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Shinya offers in reply.
“Well, between the two of us, you’d know it better, huh? You’re always coming in here, using my bed instead of your own,” Guren states.
He wants to play it off. He wishes he had an excuse for it. Really, ―how is Shinya supposed to say he sleeps in Guren’s bed because it smells like him without it sounding a little weird. Even after everything they do together, Guren isn’t exactly. . . Boyfriend material, per say. He’s a soldier first and everything else in his life that has no inherent labels is second to that, including Shinya. And up until now, that’s been fine. It’s still fine. Kind of. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it never really was in the first place.
Once more, the room goes quiet. This time, though, it’s much more tense. Shinya doesn’t know if Guren can feel his apprehension, or if he’s paying enough attention to notice the way he’s practically bristling, ―but he hopes not. He doesn’t want to explain himself, at the risk of driving Guren away and into someone else’s arms. Shinya would rather keep things as they are. When they’re both down and out, Guren will seek him. They’ll toe a dangerous line, go a little too far, keep one another up at the other’s expense. And Shinya doesn’t want to lose that. He lives for it, ―for those days when Guren lets him in, lets him do as he pleases, lets him cling to his body and kiss at his lips until he’s drunk on the feeling.
So maybe he's a little in love. Perhaps that's the case, in some abstract way. Does that really matter? In an era like this, does love really have its place? Shinya's hard pressed to think so. And he's okay with. . . This . Whatever it is, in whatever form it comes in next time.
"Aren't you tired?" Guren breaks the silence, "it's getting pretty late. Usually you'd be asleep by now."
He knows that because he checks. When he comes in late, he always steals a peek at Shinya from the hallway, slitting the door open just enough to be sure he's resting. Sometimes, he watches him for longer than he'd like to admit, and he thinks about how nice it would be to see Shinya so at peace all the time. It's wishful thinking, of course, but. . . A man can dream, no?
"No, not really," Shinya lies through his teeth.
He just wants to spend time with Guren in this fragile setting of tranquility. Even more so, he knows that when he eventually falls asleep on Guren's bed, the elder male will be more inclined to fall asleep next to him. It's been a while since the last time that happened. It's been a while since lots of things have happened, now that Shinya's thinking about it. He's almost forgotten what it feels like to have Guren wrapped around his finger. Busy times call for busy people, he knows this, but Shinya is human, perhaps more than most, and he selfishly wants to keep his comrade all to himself sometimes.
Giving him a sidelong glance, Guren raises an eyebrow in Shinya's direction. Suddenly, the silver haired male feels like he's being observed, —like a chained vampire under the control of the Hiragi family. His family, technically or whatever. Not that they feel as such.
One moment he's being stared at, the next he's being kissed. It catches Shinya by surprise when Guren
takes him by the shirt and presses their lips together, as if he'd been reading the younger's mind the whole time and was just waiting for the right moment to strike. His hand softens to a loose fist against Shinya's chest.
"Go to sleep," he states firmly when he pulls away.
It's not a suggestion from a friend, —it's an order from his commander.
Guren says nothing when Shinya curls into himself on the former's bed. He figures it's his fault for not specifying anyhow. He also doesn't mind. . . At least someone is getting some use out of it.
—
Shinya wishes there was something poetic about this, —something wondrous and all encompassing. He likes the idea of passion so intense that it ignites the flames of hell with a single touch. He also likes the idea of being swallowed up by the inferno in the end. Maybe because it seems glamorous enough a death in his mind, or maybe it's just preferable to keeling over at the hands of some blood sucker. Either way.
There's not much glamor in this, though. A dying fire sits between himself and Guren, losses heavy on the ravenette's shoulders. This is a war, after all. . . Loss is inevitable. But maybe there's something artistic to be said about the way wisps of gold and orange reflect off Guren's glassy eyes. Shinya won't be the one to say it, of course, he's no wordsmith, —but he hopes that someone out there will memorialize the violet of his irises.
Shinya opens his mouth to offer some words of consolidation, but Guren trains his gaze on the younger before he can utter a single sound.
"Don't," he says.
It almost sounds like he's pleading.
"I know you don't think it's my fault. You don't have to say it."
So Shinya doesn't. As long as Guren knows, that's good enough for him.
"How bad is your injury?" The silver haired man inquires instead.
"I'm alive, aren't I?" Guren notes pessimistically, "—it's not my first rodeo. I'll be fine."
"Sure, but I imagine it never really gets easier to be stabbed," Shinya remarks.
"It certainly doesn't feel very good."
The fire crackles between them. That seems fitting.
"Are you too proud to let me help you to a tent, or can you show me a little humility?" Shinya inquires, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Guren sighs, far too tired to be egoistic. He offers a solemn nod. Shinya stands from the grass, muscles aching, bones creaking. He likes that Guren doesn't react to it, leaving it be. Offering a steady hand, Shinya pulls Guren to his feet and places the elder male's arm around his shoulders. They're both grimacing, —but at least they're alive. The same can't be said for others.
When they reach an empty tent, Shinya helps Guren to the ground. He hears the ravenette hiss in his ear, but doesn't slow the motions. That'll only make things worse.
"You suck at being gentle," Guren comments, glaring at Shinya as he all but collapses beside him.
"You're one to talk," the younger quips in reply, sounding a bit breathless.
A few beats of silence, and then Guren laughs, his arm curling around his aching abdomen. It's funny because it's true. Shinya joins him in the hysterics, snickering in spite of his tender ribs.
"Let me rest for a few minutes, then I'll get out of your hair," Shinya says when the laughter dies down.
Guren stares at him for a second. He can't tell what it's supposed to mean.
"Just stay," Guren says.
He's not asking. He's telling.
Before Shinya has the chance to nod, Guren's head is resting on his thigh and his fingers are wrapped around his wrist. He guides Shinya's hand to his head, placing it where he wants it before letting go and closing his eyes. Shinya gets the point. He threads his fingers through the raven strands, massaging at his scalp, watching as Guren's forehead smoothes over and the tension releases from his face.
He's handsome. Shinya knew that. He's known that for. . . Well, for forever. He supposes he's always known it. Something feels different now, though. Maybe this moment feels more intimate than anything else ever has.
—
Guren is awful. He's strict and hard pressed to accept apologies. He's cocky and cruel, —arrogant enough to shoulder everyone's blame himself. And Shinya loves him, which is probably the worst part of all.
Because it's an unconditional love, though he wishes it wasn't.
Sometimes, Shinya wishes everything were different; wishes the world weren't overrun with homicidal vampires lurking in every nook, every crevice, and every sunlit opening, wishes he had a loving family, —a doting mother, a watchful father, maybe some adoring siblings that look up to him like he's the coolest brother anyone could ever have. Sometimes, he wishes that he never existed. He wishes his body didn't ache, wishes he didn't love Guren Ichinose like the sun was swallowing the Earth. . . Hopes that somewhere out there in the great big universe, there exists a version of him that hasn't fallen into this trap, —has never kissed Guren so tenderly. Maybe to avoid the heartache, or maybe because even the thought of it makes him jealous.
Shinya hopes own sheets smell like Guren after tonight. The elder male isn't sleeping, but at least he's lying down. . . That has to count for something, the younger supposes.
He'd call him an insomniac, but Guren doesn't like labels.
Shifting slightly, Shinya buries his face in the crook of Guren's neck. For as cold as the ravenette can be, he's surprisingly warm like this. His fingers lazily hook around Shinya's wrist, thumb grazing softly over the bottom of his sensitive palm. He can hear the younger breathe in deeply, like it's the last breath he'll ever take. Guren says nothing of it, and Shinya is thankful for that.
"You're clingy tonight," Guren comments, pulling Shinya closer.
"You don't seem to mind," comes a smug reply, lightly muffled by the skin of Guren's neck.
Tingles run down the elder man's spine when Shinya's breath ghosts against him.
He hates labels. But if he had to pick one, it would be love.
Shinya raises his head for fresh air and finds himself entranced. Guren really is handsome. . . Especially like this. His hair falls messily, however it pleases, and a small smirk plays at his lips when he catches sight of Shinya's gaze. The younger doesn't have the humility to look away.
Guren pulls him in, —kisses him like he wants to feel safe, and Shinya knows all the places and all the ways he's been hurt. Like he's stealing oxygen from the latter's lungs. Guren's mouth moves with the same intensity that he draws his blade and soothes broken souls. It tastes like desperation and a whole lot of desire.
When they break apart, Shinya's mouth mourns the loss.
"You're staring," Guren whispers.
Observationally, of course.
Shinya smiles softly.
"Couldn't help myself."
masterlist : here !
#seraph of the end#guren ichinose#shinya hiragi#gureshin#shinya x guren#guren x shinya#owari no seraph
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Harsh Words
REQUEST: When Y/n getting hurt the way Bakugou talks to her due to the tone of his voice, ended up fighting when y/n tried to tell him about it, Bakugou getting mad, both of them not talking for days/weeks, Bakugou getting triggered when Y/n is always with Shoto since they were friends too..Ahhhh thank you 🤧
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Enjoy! :)
Pairing: Reader x Bakugou Katsuki
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me...yeah that’s bullshit. Doesn’t apply to Katsuki Bakugou. Y/N finds out first hand. The true impact of his words hits Katsuki two weeks too late, as the need to have his partner back wins over his pride.
Masterlist
Y/N lived for the rare gentle moments, sleepy conversations, quietly studying together, taking care of the other’s wounds. Although they were rare, Y/N cherished every single gentle movement with her fiery boyfriend.
Right now, though, Bakugou was anything but gentle
“Stop being dramatic.”
The words stung, especially when considering how hard Y/N was trying not to snap at him. SHe just wanted a rational conversation to discuss this. She crosses her arms, her face twisting into a scowl.
“I’m not being dramatic, Katsuki! Just listen to me for once!”
Katsuki was rough around the edges, there was no doubt, and it was one of the things that made Y/N fall for him a year ago. The past few weeks, however, had been particularly rough. His insults towards her had been much meaner, his tone harsher. Although she has always been on the lesser end of his receiving temper, this was taking a toll on her.
She finally had enough when he had insulted her clumsiness in front of the whole class in the dorm common area. She remembers full well the crash of the glass as it shattered upon impact, hitting the ground, followed by a snort and a “What? You got two left feet to match your useless quirk now?”. She had stormed out of the room, eyes glassy and Bakugou had followed her.
And here they were.
“You’ve been horrible to me this whole past month! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, that you think it was okay to yell at me like that in front of everyone, but-”
“I’ve been exactly the same. You know what you got yourself into when you started dating me. Don’t get all sensitive now.” he rolls his eyes, fixing her with a glare. The way he completely dismisses her makes her want to bang her head against a wall with frustration. He didn’t get it. She was human too, and she had a limit to her patience.
“You’re just being an asshole lately! This has nothing to do with me being sensitive.”
“The fact that you’re yelling at me proves that it does.” He yells, before taking a step closer. “What? Can’t handle an insult, dumbass? This bothers you that much?” He mocks her on the last part, tilting his head in a fake sympathetic look.
“You know what? Fuck you!” She yells back, shaking her head, tears of anger and frustration trailing down her cheeks. “I don’t have to deal with this shit. Come talk to me once you fix your shitty attitude and decide to stop being a literal asshole to me.” Y/N turns on heel and walks out of his room, ignoring Bakugou’s angry calls for her to come back.
Her tears unsettled him, although he doesn’t admit it. He feels guilt, or some variant of it, eat away at his insides, knowing he was the reason for their distress. He did care about her, a little too much in his opinion. He watches the door shut behind her.
Scoffing he moves over to his desk, sitting down and running a hand through his head angrily. He wasn’t any more of an asshole than he usually was, he was sure of it. Right?
Lost in his though, he idly fidgets with a pen from the holder at his desk. He recalls Y/N frowning a lot more these days...and she didn’t really bite back to his jabs anymore...when was the last time they had actually spent time together? Gone out? Now that he thought about it he hadn’t had a quiet moment with her in a week or two.
Huffing out a breath, he shakes his head to himself. Whatever. He would do something about that once she came back to him and apologised. That’s how it usually worked after one of their fights. Y/N was the first one to apologise, then he’d do his part silently by spoiling her or spending time with her. It was his way of a silent apology. She always came to him first though, knowing his pride wouldn’t let him be the first to admit the fault lied with him.
Bakugou is left hanging for the first time. He expected nothing to happen on the first day, or the second day...but two weeks later?
Y/N had not talked to him for two weeks, and he was itching for things to go back to normal. He didn’t want to admit how much this was affecting him. Not having her to study quietly with, or cuddle with at night, or someone to nag at him for pushing himself too hard...it was annoyingly frustrating. He wanted her back. He wanted her so damn badly and he was starting to crack.
He feels especially shitty today as he watches her walk straight past their usual table, to join another table, where she’d been sitting at for the length of time she’d been...ignoring him. The fact that it was Deku’s table only worked harder to piss him off. He watches, his eyes narrowing in an intense stare as she slips into the seat next to Todoroki.
Icyhot.
Another reason he’d been especially prickly. Y/N was good friends with Deku’s group, he knew that. It’s not like he could, or would, stop her from doing what she wanted. He wasn’t like that, even he wasn’t that much of an asshole.
He can’t help but shift restlessly in his place, as he sees her relaxed, giggling at something Icyhot had said. He didn’t even know the guy was capable of making jokes. Gritting his teeth, he turns away, focusing on the conversation the idiots around him were having.
He manages to keep himself at bay for about 15 minutes, before he sees Y/N and Todoroki get up...together, and leave. Together. The fact that she didn’t even spare him a glance as she walked by definitely didn’t feel like someone was painfully squeezing his heart. Obviously not. As he stares at them leaving, his eyes narrow when the Half and Half bastard puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her out. He gets up suddenly and follows them, fuming.
Y/N was miserable ever since the argument. She was tired and hurting and today was especially hard for some reason. The moment she walked into the cafeteria, she felt her boyfriend's eyes on her. Ignoring them, refusing to look his way, she made her way over to Izuku’s table. He wasn’t going to be the one to apologise. If he truly cared about her and their relationship, he would have to swallow his pride and come to her.
The whole time she’d been a little dazed, and on the brink of tears, effectively hiding it underneath laughs and jokes. She fooled pretty much everyone except the quiet guy next to her. About 15 minutes into lunch, she feels Todoroki nudge her and point to the door, a look of muted worry plastered on his face. Y/N can do nothing to protest without bursting into tears so she complies, standing and excusing herself.
By the time she’s nearing the exit door, her shoulders are shaking, and she feels Todoroki’s steadying arm around her. She welcomes the comforting touch.
He leads her to an empty hallway, pulling her into a classroom. He prompts her to sit on one of the desks, taking a seat next to her. Y/N feels bad about placing her worries on her friend, but she can’t help but let it out. She knew Todoroki was a good listener and that he wouldn’t judge her. By the time she’s done recounting the past painful weeks, there are tears running down her cheeks.
Todoroki awkwardly looks around for a second, before placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder and comforting her. He was trying his best, but the look of uncomfort on his face was almost comical. He wanted to be there for his friend, and Y/N was thankful for it. She looks up and offers Todoroki a shaky smile. She goes to thank him, when she’s cut off by a familiar harsh voice.
“The hell are you two doing?” Bakugou stands, eyes narrowed at the two of them, a scowl on his face. Why were they so close? They didn’t need to be this close.
“Bakugou.” Todoroki nods, standing. Y/N glances at him once, before looking away, determined to keep ignoring him. She doesn’t know why he’s here. He hasn’t tried to talk to her at all. She doesn’t realise she’s tuned out the conversation between the other two, which in retrospect, was a horrible idea knowing how much Bakugou disliked Todoroki, she’s only snapped out of her thoughts when she hears the door slam, causing her to jump.
Bakugou stands there for a second, before narrowing his eyes and walking towards her. She stays where she is on the desk, shifting her gaze to stare at the ground. Why was he still here? Where had Todoroki gone?
She stills as she feels him stop in front of her. Feeling his hands rest on the desk either side of her, he hears him scoff when she doesn’t look up. Hearing him shift, he grasps her chin and makes her look at him.
Although he has his usual scowl and annoyed expression, Y/N can identify mild worry as his eyes scan over her face. It’s very evident that she’s been crying, her eyes still puffy. She doesn’t have time to react, before Bakugou steps forward and slides his hands up to her sides pulling her into a...hug? He rests his chin on top of her head and holds her tightly to himself.
What?
After her momentary confusion, she struggles half heartedly to get him to let go of her. However much she didn’t want to admit it, she missed this.
She missed him.
Pretty son she gives up and stays there, letting him stand in front of her and hold her. He’s fully aware of the tears slowly soaking the front of his shirt.
“What do you want?” Y/N asks quietly, a single hand clutching the back of his shirt. She feels, doesn’t hear, his mouth move in her hair. Pulling away slightly she looks up. Even when she’s sitting down on a desk, he’s still a little taller. His gaze flickers to her eyes, before going back to looking at something behind her. He mumbles something Y/N can’t quite hear, but he doesn’t loosen his grip around her.
“...What the hell are you say-”
“I’m sorry.” He finally says properly, shifting his gaze back to her.
Y/N’s pretty sure that’s the first time she’s heard him genuinely say those words. “Are you?” Ignoring the hope swelling inside her, she tilts her head in question. She wouldn’t let him get off the hook that easily.
He looks slightly annoyed, before remembering why they were in this situation in the first place. “I am. I...shit, I didn’t realise I was hurting you. The past few weeks have been shit without you. I’m sorry.” He mutters the last part again, heat creeping up his neck. It looks like he was struggling to get the words out.
“You did. Hurt me, that is. That won’t change.”
“I know.” His voice is unusually quiet. “Won’t happen again.”
“It will.” Bakugou looks surprised at that. “I’m not telling you to become a whole different person, Katsuki.”
She brings up a hand and cups his cheek, smiling a little when he leans into the touch. She was glad she wasn’t the only one being affected by this fight.
“That brash loud part of you is the guy I fell for. I don’t want that to change. It’s just...yelling at me like that in front of everyone wasn’t cool. You really made me feel like shit.”
Bakugou let’s that sink in, before scoffing and tightening his grip around her. The guilt that had been brewing over the days comes crashing like a wave. “I said it wouldn’t happen again, didn’t I? You think I make empty promises, dumbass?” He didn’t. He’d keep his word.
Y/N responds by tugging on his shirt and pulling him closer and resting her head on his shoulder, humming a little at how warm he was. She feels him reach up and brush her hair off her forehead and place a small peck on it.
She knew how un-Bakugou-like that was. It showed her that he really was sorry. She swears it could be her mind playing tricks on her, but she’s sure she heard Bakugou say something. Smiling into the fabric of his shirt, she responds.
“I missed you too.”
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Author’s Note: These types of fics are my jam! Feel free to leave feedback! (23/02/2021)
Edit: I had to reupload this because the link was faulty, so excuse the reupload!
Requests for BNHA are Open and Welcome!
#bnha fanfiction#bnha#fanfic#mha fanfiction#fanfiction#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou#katsuki x reader#katsuki#fluff#angst#hurt comfort#bnha fluff#bnha angst#mha fluff#mha angst#bnha hurt comfort#x reader#bnha imagines#bnha headcanons#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#mha x reader#mha x y/n#x y/n
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Can do a fic about dilf doyoung is your Father's friend but u have a secret relationship with him them one day he got you preggo so u moved in with him plsssss also put a lot of smut shshshhshsh pls I hope you read this.
Hi there! My requests are currently closed but I can never resist writing dilf!Doyoung so you’re lucky. There's not THAT much smut in this because I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. Hope you like it!
warnings: dirty talking, sex, language, use of the name daddy, spanking, unexpected pregnancy, age gap.
“What’s the meaning of this invitation, Mr. Kim?” You inquired, walking past the front door with a gym bag hanging from your shoulder. “It's not every day you invite me to a private swimming party.”
“Very funny.” He welcomed you with a hug, his warm, naked chest pressed against your covered one. “Jeno’s out with his friends. He won't come back until tomorrow.”
“Aw, but where's the fun in that? I wanted to be with him.” That response earned you a slap in the ass, hard enough to serve as a warning not to keep testing his patience.
“Get changed. I'll wait for you in the hot tub.”
You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom, quickly yanking off your clothes to replace them with a baby blue bikini. You knew how much he loved the matching set, not as much as taking it off you, of course.
Wanting to make him wait for a while longer, you neatly folded your clothes and placed them over your sleeping wear inside the bag you'd brought with you.
“Took you long enough.” He was sitting inside the water, his arms spread wide as he gave you a less than amused look. “Come here.”
Despite how dominant he might look on the outside, he never managed to fool you. As soon as you were between his arms, your face was guaranteed to be covered with kisses from his soft lips.
“I missed you this past few weeks.” His wet thumb traced figures over your arm, avoiding looking into your eyes. “Why haven't you visited?”
Your fingers played with the small, grey hairs covering the nape of his neck.
“It's getting harder to hide it from Jeno, and I know if he ever found out, our friendship would be over. I don't wanna lose him.”
“He’ll find out, better sooner than later.” The look on your face must've given away your thoughts. “What? Did you think this was just something casual?”
“I mean...” His jaw dropped, arms falling into the water with a splash. “Look, you have to understand me. We started right after your wife left, I thought you were using me to forget her. And I didn't mind-”
“Using you?” Just a few millimeters and his eyebrows would be touching. “Have you always thought so low of me?”
“Doyoung...”
“I want a future with you, y/n. Not just an occasional fuck but an actual relationship, and if you don't feel the same about me, then we might as well end things here.” This was the first time you'd seen him mad, with his whole face red from anger and the warmth of the jacuzzi, he looked as if he were about to explode.
“Of course I do. But it's complicated.” The red shade tinting his cheeks and ears, slowly faded. “No one would accept our relationship, for starters.”
“I couldn't care less about other’s opinions.”
In less than a second, his lips crashed against yours, hard. But there was a hint of sweetness in his wild movements, the way his hands caressed your back while his tongue worked its way inside your mouth aggressively.
“Already so eager?” He asked as your heat rubbed itself against his clothed cock. “Not here.”
“What...?”
The muscles in his legs tensed as he stood up with you still between his arms. He was strong, for a man of his age, of course.
“I’m afraid that I've been fucking you the wrong way, which might have been the reason for you to have the wrong idea about us.” Leaving a trail of water drops behind you, you climbed up the stairs leading to the second floor, where his room was located. “Scratch that. No more fucking, from now on, I'm gonna make love to you.”
“Have you always been this cheesy?” Your feet touched the floor as he removed his hands from below your thighs, slightly pushing you until the back of your knees touched the mattress.
“Don’t make me change my mind and spank that pretty ass.”
“Rude.” You let yourself fall on the fresh comforter, dragging him down with you.
“Take your clothes off for me, won't you?” He busied himself pulling down his swimming trunks while you struggled with the knot keeping your bra in place. “Such a silly, little girl. Can't do anything without her daddy, can her?”
“Please.” Even though you hated being humiliated, your core didn't seem to bother. His degrading words only caused your essence to form an even larger patch on your bikini. “Doyoung...”
“Fine.” His cock was standing proudly, his tip dripping with small beads of precum. “On your knees and turn around.”
He worked through the knots as fast as his trembling fingers allowed him to. His mouth was aching to say the special words he'd been keeping to himself for a while now, but he didn't have enough courage yet.
“Ready.” The straps fell down your arms, tickling the skin as they slid.
You took the last piece of your suit off, finally allowing your body to be consumed by the humidity of the summer evening. Doyoung was quicker to enter you than usual. No teasing, just lovemaking as he’d promised earlier.
“You’re so warm.” His lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking to leave a mark big enough for everyone to see. “Your little cunt takes me so well. No one else could make me feel as good as you do.”
With his hips pistoning your hole, your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, dancing over the tender skin. The way you were looking at each other, so intimate and full of affection, had the words he'd been wanting to say rushing out of his lips.
“I love you.” His movements faltered as if waiting for you to give him any type of answer.
“What’s with that scared face?” You giggled, every inch of your skin flushed with embarrassment and desire. “I love you too.” He loved how young you made him feel, like a silly teenager confessing to his crush only to find out his feelings were reciprocated.
His thrusts resumed, this time slower, deeper, making sure you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock. His length caressed your walls oh so deliciously, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Until someone had to ruin it.
“Dad, where are you?” In a rush, Doyoung pulled out, not even noticing how his seed spilled out of your hole. Fear had taken over the pleasure.
“Get in the bathroom, he probably just forgot something. Don't worry.”
As he'd said, Jeno was quick to leave. Not even ten minutes later, Doyoung was back in his room, announcing Jeno’s little getaway got extended.
“So that means, you can stay for a while longer. Only if you want of course.” The bathtub was filling with warm water and bubbles he'd added. “Or we can go on our own trip, whatever you want.” You felt at ease between his arms, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.
Who would've thought you'd be losing your mind a few weeks later because of the same man that had given you so much peace before.
“How could you forget to wear protection?!”
“Don't treat me as if I were the only one responsible for this situation.” You hid your face between the warmth of your palms, supporting the side of your head against the window. “Look at me, baby.”
You shook your head, tears starting to slip between your fingers.
“I’m here for you, darling. Whatever you want to do, I'll fully support you.” His thumb traced the shape of the shell of your ear.
“I don't know what I want to do.”
“We still have time to help you figure things out, okay?” There was a certain sadness to his tone, almost as if his hopes were vanishing.
He didn't want to get rid of it, but being pregnant was a burden that you'd have to carry alone as much as he tried to help. It was your choice and only yours.
“I want to have it, but I don't even have a job or economical support. My parents would kill me if they found out. And Jeno, oh boy, he'd have a heart attack.”
“You have me, y/n. And even though I can't do anything about other people's reactions, I'll always be by your side.”
Doyoung wasn't lying. He walked you through every step, even assumed part of the responsibility when talking to your parents, who didn't react as badly as you'd foreseen.
“Just make sure you're making the right choice.” They'd said.
Jeno was the last person to find out.
“Oh, hey y/n. Were you waiting for me?” He dropped the sports bag right in front of de door.
“We have to tell you something.”
“We?” The look on his face was almost comical as if life had been sucked out of his handsome features.
“Yes, we.” Doyoung laced his fingers with yours, tightly locking your hands together.
His father explained the situation calmly, making sure to use the right words to avoid scaring him away. By the time he was done, Jeno was just staring at you with an emotionless face.
“Jeno?” Your heart dropped at the thought of losing your friend. “Say something, please.”
“You want me to say something?”
There was a small, dramatic pause to add some tension to his words. But the mood lightened as soon as his eyes became crescent moons.
“Bold of you to assume I wasn't aware of your little relationship.” He giggled. “It's okay, guys. You're both adults and I trust you know what you're doing.”
“What the hell is going on?” Your thoughts slipped out of your mouth.
“Thank you, Jeno.” Doyoung mouthed, squeezing your shoulder.
“Man, I always wanted a little brother.” He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you and his father's neck.
“I rather have a girl this time.”
“Should I call you mom?” Jeno teasingly asked, poking the back of your head.
“Try me.”
(...)
As you folded your clothes and placed them in your new closet, the sun started setting. The light sound of sizzling could be heard from the room, probably Doyoung cooking dinner.
“Y/n!” He shouted from downstairs. “Come help me set the table.”
“Coming!” You set aside the remaining boxes. There were not many clothes left to unpack, so you could finish after eating.
You tiptoed on your way downstairs, accomplishing to scare him with a surprise back hug.
“Stop, you could've burnt yourself.” He scolded, undoing your hug only to quickly pull you by his side moments later.
“Is it me or are you getting a little too overprotective?”
“Am not!” His eyebrows quivered like they did every time he lied.
“Really? Then why haven't we had sex ever since you found out I was pregnant?” Your hand teasingly traced figures on his lower abdomen, a little too close to the stove he was using.
“You’re gonna get burnt.” Once again, he tried to push you away, but your hand remained in the same position. “Baby...”
“Uh-uh, you're not gonna sweet-talk your way out. Why won't you touch me anymore? Have I lost my charm or something?”
“What? No!” He turned off the stove, completely turning to his side to face you. “I just don't wanna hurt the baby.”
“Bullshit. You know it's still safe to do it, you already had one son, for god's sake.” Your arms were crossed over your slightly swollen mounds. “I want the truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth...” There was no nervous quiver from his eyebrows, but his tone was less than convincing.
“The whole truth, Doyoung.”
There was no way out, he had to tell you what he'd been trying to hurry at the back of his head for weeks now.
“I can't stop thinking that the only reason we became official is because of this baby, and I'm afraid if you lose it, I'll lose you as well.” It seemed as if your roles had reversed, as if he was the youngest, the most immature.
“Idiot.” You flicked his forehead with anger, later pulling him into a bear hug. “Get those stupid ideas out of your little head or I'll have to slap them out of you.”
“Rude much.”
“I told you once before we found out about the baby...” Your lips were achingly close to his, ready to kiss those soft, pink pillows. “I love you.”
Your eyes were stuck on his lips, too busy to notice how his eyes started sparkling, the edge of them trying to contain his tears. After a while, you looked up, his nostalgic expression puzzling you.
“I’m sorry, it's the hormones.” He sniffled.
“That's not how pregnancy works, honey.”
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Alien Blues
Gojo Satoru x Reader
Warnings: none! sfw. romantic/platonic(interpretable). mainly fluff. mentions of overworking and death, but nothing graphic. gn!reader
Notes: touch-starved Gojo
Word Count: 2.3k
Gojo doesn't get a lot of downtime in his line of work.
It comes with the job. Sorcerers don't exactly work a 9 to 5. This line of work is far from a normal one. Curses don't exorcise themselves, nor do they pick convenient times to show up. He usually has his hands full; be it taking down curses, or dealing with his students. A guy like him really can't take a vacation.
Despite going to the same school—and being only a year younger than him—you didn't meet Gojo until well into your adult life. After graduating, you went off on your own. The typical way of life for sorcerers wasn’t for you. You really didn't want to work with—or under—any of the major clans. At that point, you just wanted to do your own thing. To hell with the school; you’d be fine on your own. And you were.
You spent much of your time exorcising curses across the world, traveling from place to place, not staying in a single town for very long. A lot of it was freelance work. Such jobs were typically frowned upon, or at least looked at strangely. But it really didn't bother you. On your own you were powerful, and an impressive fighter, but you were working in a world that didn't accept you.
So you said to hell with fitting in.
Doing your own thing was the best decision you’d ever made. To this day you’ll stand by that. The jujutsu world is meant for people like Gojo. It demands so much more from you, and in return gives a whole lot less. It demands perfection from you—maybe even more—while he’s the set standard for this perfection. You hold no ill will towards him for it. He didn't make things this way. But it's hard not to envy him at times.
When you came back to the school, you were first assigned a teaching job.
Although you were a talented sorcerer, it was clear from the beginning you weren't meant to be a teacher. Your teaching style was viewed as a bit harsh, as you tended to just throw your students into a situation and let them figure things out for themselves, correcting them where needed. Overall you weren't a bad teacher, but your students got sent to the infirmary often. And by often, it was nearly every day. You just wanted them to be capable. You wanted your students to be prepared. To be the best of the best. How are they supposed to improve if they don't have experience?
To be fair, your students were some of the best in their grade.
For the most part you substitute if needed.
Upon first meeting, he was too eccentric for your tastes. Really, you found him annoying. Your first impression of Gojo was that he was full of himself and out of touch with the world around him. His first impression of you was that you were stuck up and a bit of a bitch.
There wasn't one thing that changed. Maybe he wore you down to the point where you tolerated him. He likes to think it was because of his charming personality. You know otherwise. His charms rarely work on you; if ever. Over time you found yourself less and less repulsed by him. The two of you bonded over harassing Nanami. On your own you weren't much trouble, but when paired with Gojo, Nanami learned to stay out of your way. If you let him. Usually you tracked him down. Your sweet tooth was just as insatiable as his. When you first took up baking, he was always nearby, wanting a taste. You’d drag him along to see new movies or shows or anything you’d think he’d like. He likes co-existing with you. The two of you don't have to even be doing anything. He can sit for hours with you by his side, doing absolutely nothing.
You've gotten to the point in your relationship where you show up unannounced. It's payback for all the times he’s come to your apartment, claiming he has some work for you, only to stay and raid your fridge, conveniently forgetting what he had to tell you. Yes you have scared the absolute hell out of Megumi on several occasions. In Gojo’s defense, he likes your cooking.
He’s not used to having you stay in one place for so long. You’re not used to it either. It feels strange sticking around Tokyo for so long. You hate feeling trapped more than anything. Maybe that’s why you moved around so much. Maybe you’re getting sentimental the older you get. For the first time in years, you feel truly at home. Gojo is one of your closest—if not your closest—friends, and there’s not much you wouldn't do for him.
You guess this is home. The end of the line, or whatever. You don't see yourself leaving for a while.
It's well after dark by the time he gets home.
The place was empty when you got here. Megumi must be out with friends. He's a strange kid. Strange circumstances lead to strange adults—or almost adults in his case. You try not to judge him too hard. You don't have a whole lot to say on his… situation.
He notices your form curled up on the couch, your face illuminated by your phone screen. The tv plays some horror movie you’ve long stopped paying attention to. Your face lights up when you see him.
His hand briefly touches your head, messing up your hair. He looks tired. There's dark circles under his eyes. He was gone for a while this time.
“I brought takeout,” you say, gesturing to the fridge, “I wasn't sure when you’d get home so I put it in there.”
“Did you eat already?” He asks. He makes a note to pay you back for the food later.
“No, I wanted to wait for you.” You say.
A bit of guilt hits him. You really didn't have to wait for him. You know his habit of being chronically late. He says he’s fashionably late, to which you reason he is never fashionable ever. He actually seemed a bit bothered by that one, which only made you tease him more.
Momentarily he disappears into the kitchen, returning with your food. You have his order memorized. There's only a handful of things he’d get anyway. He’s not a picky eater, and usually gets what you get. Pick one of about three things and he’ll probably eat it.
The food is still good even while cold. Gojo talks about his recent job while you eat. He says it was nothing special. But he called Nanami for backup, so you know that’s a lie. He hardly touches his food. Since when doesn't he want to eat? The guy has a pretty impressive appetite at times. Seriously, he could eat you out of house and home.
“Are you done?” He asks.
You nod.
He clears away the empty takeout containers from in front of you, returning the leftovers to the fridge.
When he returns, he sits next to you, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. The leather is an ugly shade. You’re sure if it weren't for Megumi, he would have bought something much worse. His taste—in everything, really—can be tacky. You make sure he knows this. Always have to keep him on his toes. Nanami is right about some things. You never take Gojo’s side for too long.
“You were gone for a while this time.” You say.
A smug looking grin spreads across his face. It's almost enough to make you roll your eyes and groan. “Sounds like you were worried about me.”
Really, you could worry yourself sick thinking about him. It's hard not to. Everyone has their limits, and you constantly wonder when he’ll hit his. Strongest or not; he’s human after all.
“Of course I worry.” As much as you hate to admit it, you care about him. You won't say it. It feels like bad luck to say it out loud.
He knows. He feels the same way. Over time he’s grown jaded and angry with the way things are. He tries not to worry too much about you. This life isn't an easy one, but you can handle yourself. He knows that. Years on your own have proven you're not only a capable sorcerer, but a talented one. The strongest doesn't need to worry about himself, so much as the people around him.
In a weird way he’s proud of you.
You open your arms, instinctively he goes into them.
You pull his head to your chest. He does little to fight against you. Hell, he practically leans into your touch. You take his glasses, setting them on the table beside you. His eyes close when your hands move to his hair, gently pulling it out of his eyes. He’s not quite sure what to do with his arms. Eventually he settles on resting them at his sides. One snakes around your stomach, coming to rest on the fleshy part of your hip. You're awfully comfortable to lay on, he notes.
Your movements are familiar, and oddly comforting. He makes note of the way your heartbeat suddenly drops off, before picking up in pace. From the smell of your shampoo, to the sound of your breathing. He can only describe it as home.
Lots of people will die in this line of work, but he has faith you’ll always be around. You’re too stubborn to die.
Touch in a sense like this is almost foreign to him. Touch in a non fighting context is just bizarre. He never de-activates infinity long enough to get hit. He's had his fair share of one night stands. Hell, he could have anyone he wants. He’s had everything and anything in between. Men and women across the world either want to be him, or be with him. But this—intimacy like this—is strange. The others get kicked out the morning after. But you’ll always be around. He likes to think he’ll be around for you too.
Maybe he’s more touch starved than he thought.
He’s Satoru-fucking-Gojou, a man like him doesn't get touched starved. He feels a wave of shame at his reaction. His face burns. His pride won't allow him to admit how much he enjoys this.
It's the first time you’ve held him close like this. The action is so oddly intimate and it’s not even in a sexual way. Your movements are familiar. He fits so nicely against your chest, he notes.
He practically purrs in delight as your fingers brush a sensitive spot towards the back of his head—where his neck and shoulders meet—sighing softly. Goosebumps rise along his exposed flesh. You take note of his reaction, and focus on that spot more, dragging your fingers across his skin. Your nails are getting long, and feel nice against his scalp. His eyes close as he leans into the crook of your neck.
"Do you want to watch something different?" You ask.
His heart nearly stops when your hand moves to cup his cheek. His face is warm. He's a wimp when it comes to horror movies. He says they don't scare him. They do. You’ve spent plenty of night sitting next to him, watching his body tense with terror.
He wasn't paying attention to the tv until now. He shakes his head, but his eyes remain fixed on the ground and not the screen.
"This is fine." He says.
"You sure?"
He nods.
He fights sleep as long as possible, but eventually he'll have to give in to it. You’ll be there long after he’s fallen asleep. Maybe even after he wakes up. His head nods, his eyes struggling to stay open. His breaths even out, his chest rising slowly.
You're not really sure what to do once he falls asleep on you. Your position isn't the most comfortable, but you suffer through it so as to not wake him up. If he’s fallen asleep on you, then he definitely needs the rest. He’s a light sleeper anyway. Any movement would be sure to wake him up.
It’s not long after that his body heat—and the sound of his steady breathing—lulls you to sleep.
You wake up to a blanket haphazardly tossed over the two of you. The tv is off. Two glasses of water are set out on the coffee table, condensation collecting on the outside. Megumi must have come home. Gojo's drool collects in a small pool on your collarbone, which is a bit gross. You use the corner of the blanket to wipe it away. It’s a bit odd seeing him so at-peace. It's rare he even lets his guard down. You rest your chin on the top of his head. His hair is soft, and tickles your neck. The sight of him makes your chest swell with affection. The intimacy of it all is enough to overwhelm you. It's been a while since you’ve cared so much about someone.
It's nice having him home.
He stirs, stretching out a bit like a cat. You card a hand through his hair. He grumbles something in response. Probably a weak “what?” Your joints are a bit stiff from staying in the same position for so long.
“Do you want coffee?” You ask.
He sleepily mumbles an answer—one which you don't understand. It's just as legible as the first. His eyes don't even open. You take it to mean he wants to go back to sleep. You pull the blanket up around his shoulders, tucking it under his chin. The sun is still barely up. You’re not in a rush to get up. You don't have anything to do today anyway, work can wait. If Nanami calls, you’ll just ignore him. You could stay in all morning if you wanted.
And you just might.
Come hell or high water, you’re staying on this couch.
In a bit you should get up and start breakfast. Most of the food in the house is for Megumi, but there should be enough to make something small. Pancakes sound nice.
#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojou satoru#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo fluff#sfw#fluff
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Needy
pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader (guest star Yoongi)
genre: smut, established relationship au
word count: 4.3k | reading time: 20 min
summary: Dating Kim Namjoon comes with its advantages and disadvantages. The later mainly being working so much all you get to see of him is in his studio. But you're a needy bitch. And if you have to get what you want while he works, you will do just that.
warnings: hard dom namjoon, bratty sub reader, cockwarming, daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, oral m.receiving, orgasm denial, studio sex, slight exhibitionism, aka the one where namjoon discovers he likes public sex and exhibitionism.
A/N: Amy=Army=reader because I prefer using a name instead of y/n
Masterlist | Read on AO3
Time slipping closer to the comeback dates meant missing-your-boyfriend hours grew more frequent. You never complained, just like he didn't either, but you were clingy by nature and finding any way to be even in the same room as Namjoon had become your top priority. At first, sleeping in his arms at night was enough. In about a week it became apparent that waking hours were paramount, so you started joining him for lunch. No matter how short and rushed it had to be. But the more he worked on the group's comeback, the less attention he could pay, always distracted and keeping your interactions to small talk. Eating with him wasn't sating your hunger anymore.
"I'm sorry, baby," he would say when he would realize you had been talking this whole time.
You honestly didn't mind. Simply wanted to be by his side. "It's okay, sweetie. Everything alright?"
He sighed and caressed your hand laying on the table. "I just miss you. I have to stay to work extra hours again and I won't see you again and I miss you. That's all."
You replicated his small, soft smile. "I can stay with you. I'll bring my laptop and we can both work together. That way we won't be alone."
Namjoon smirked. "You know I can't concentrate with you in the room," he declared with a low tone in his voice and slightly squeezed your hand.
Suddenly, you were fighting a smile on your lips while your eyes raced to the floor as if you were too shy to face your own boyfriend. Then you pouted. "No, we'll just work. I will be working too, I'll be so quiet, you won't even know I'm there."
And so you did. You took the small couch while he had his back to you, working on his computer. The sound of both of your keyboards was filling the room, along with the slight whispers of the music playing through Namjoon's headphones. It was after-hours and they went by mostly uninterrupted, except for the occasional visit by a manager or a member –usually the rappers– to deliver some type of message. The boys would smile softly at the sight of you, and you replied with a raise of your shoulders to state the obvious.
"Can I sit on your lap?" You asked Namjoon once after you had given up on your work and were battling falling asleep on that comfortable couch while you waited for him to call it a day, or more accurately, a night.
He pulled his headphones to the side and turned to look at you. "My lap?"
You nodded. "I'll just sit there and you can work."
"Don't you want to work?"
"No, I want to be in your arms."
He bit his bottom lip. He eyed you up and down and then looked at his monitor. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but he figured he would just sound like a straight douche if he declined cuddle offers from his girlfriend, after she had been patiently putting up with him distancing for the past few weeks. So he turned back to you and patted his lap.
"Okay, hop on, kitty. But if you don't sit quietly, you'll be in trouble."
You had to bite back that shy smile again. Namjoon was asking you to sit quietly yet just by the way he asked, he made you crave that trouble he promised. But no, you were a good girl. You didn't want to disturb his work, it would only stress him out more. You straddled his lap and huddled on his chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible so as not to restrict his movements in the least. You felt his big hand stroking your hair as you planted your head on his left shoulder, your nose close to his neck, tickling him with your warm breath. Before you knew it, you were asleep.
So now you almost didn't even bother pretending to work on that laptop of yours. Since Namjoon had been convinced that you could sit on his lap without causing trouble, and you had discovered how easy it was to relax when you were wrapped around him like that, you basically jumped in his lap right after you two settled in his studio. Namjoon played with your hair or gently squeezed the softer parts of your body every time he paused to think. He found it helped him work even better. His own little stress relief toy.
"Oh- uh… Sorry- um…" Yoongi squealed when he walked into the studio and saw the two of you tangled like so.
Namjoon turned to face the older member and simply shook his head. "Oh, she's just sleeping," he whispered.
Yoongi now opened the door more widely and stood up straighter to take a better look at you. "Oh…" he exhaled with a smile. "Like that?"
"Yeah… she can't stay away from me."
"Cute…"
At that, you decided to lift your head and look at Yoongi's general direction. "I'm awake!" you stated loudly then immediately dropped your head back down.
The other man chuckled slightly before he informed Namjoon on something about their manager, this and that, and left. Anyone walking into the studio was met with what appeared like an adorable scene that they quickly became accustomed to, and even your boyfriend seemed to think completely innocently of it now. Which meant you were the only one quietly suffering because of his cologne and the warmth of his crotch under yours.
You tried to sit there quietly. You tried to fall asleep. But it had been days since you and Namjoon had done anything other than work, and that promised trouble was becoming more and more appealing. You circled your fingertips at the base of his neck, contemplating whether you should grid yourself on him to get him to fuck you on that desk as a punishment, or be a good girl so that you don't lose your lap privileges.
But you wanted more than your lap privileges. You truly were so clingy, it wasn't enough that you were sitting on him like that; you wanted to feel more of him. You bit your lip and controlled yourself, catching your breath on purpose so that he wouldn't notice it had gotten heavier and warmer on his neck. You could practically hear his deep voice vibrating something like "you little minx" in case you exposed yourself, which in turn made your struggles even harder.
You squirming on his lap was probably registered as you squirming in your sleep by your boyfriend. Indeed, you kept your eyes tightly closed to play the role, too. You swallowed, again and again, excess saliva flooding your mouth from all the dirty thoughts passing your mind, like a dog dreaming of a delicious meal. But you stayed put. You sat quietly, just like he had asked. Because you were a good girl and you knew you would be awarded for that eventually.
"Baby…" you whispered with a pout in your lips. Today you had worn a skirt and as you sat on Namjoon's lap, the only thing covering your heat was your lace panties. Today you would get that award you craved the whole week. "Namjoon, baby…" you whined again to get your boyfriend's attention.
He looked at you with wide eyes, pausing whatever he was doing and sliding his headphones off. "What's that, kitten?"
Your eyes dropped down as your fingers played with the hem of his shirt. "I–" you gulped, "I want you inside me."
You heard nothing, no reaction. So you looked up again and Namjoon was just staring at you. "You know we can't do that here, kitten…"
You bounced slightly on his lap in protest. Luckily for you, you found out your boyfriend had already started to get hard under you. So you continued. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself on him, making him suck in a breath.
"Ohh... I'm not asking for anything too much. I just want you inside me."
"Inside you?"
You nodded. "Yes, yes. I just want to feel you. Can you just… just put it inside me?"
Namjoon laughed. "Baby, if I put it inside you there is no way it won't lead to something more…"
But you shook your head frantically. For good measure, you ground yourself on him, too. "No, no, I promise! I won't even move. I'll just go right to sleep like I do every day. You know, you've seen how quietly I can sit like that. You can trust me, right?"
Namjoon bit his bottom lip aggressively as he watched you act all innocent and cute while talking about putting his dick in you. He took one too many seconds to answer, so you took the initiative to move your hands to his pants and unbutton them. His hands grabbed your hips. Not to stop you. Just to hold you forcefully as he processed what was happening.
"So you– you want to do… cockwarming?"
In response, you took one of his hands and guided it under your skirt, to your already wet core. His fingers felt your arousal through the lace. Suddenly, all signs of demur disappeared from his face.
"Hm, does your little hole feel empty without me, kitten? You want me to fill you up?"
You bit your lip as you nodded, your hands moving again to completely undo his pants and pull them down just a bit. You palmed him through his boxers and his fingers massaged your clit over your panties. You pulled his dick out and saw how it sprang up, almost to full hardness already. Quickly, you spat on your hand a generous amount and used that to pump him up and down a few times. Namjoon groaned and pushed your panties away, two fingers teasing at your entrance.
"Do you need prepping? Or can you take my cock as it is?" he asked you as he slipped his two fingers easily in.
"Namjoon," you moaned his name quietly. "Don't get me too horny, just put your dick inside me." He raised his eyebrows at your commanding attitude. "Unless you don't want me to be good," you added with a raised eyebrow of your own.
Chuckling, he pulled his fingers out and grabbed your hips again. He guided you over his dick. "Alright, kitten. Sit on that cock and don't. Move."
You sank, taking him in inch by inch, the thickness stretching you out so much it burned. You allowed yourself to moan out as quietly as you could, still struggling to fit all of him inside you. Namjoon kept a hand on your hips to guide you down, while the other caressed the side of your head.
"That's right," he praised you. "Take all of me, baby. I know you can."
With his encouraging words, you took a deep breath and moved down until your pussy had swallowed him whole, his head now nudging at your cervix.
"There, there… that's great," Namjoon cooed. He brushed his palm over your cheek and made you look at him. "How does this feel?"
"Oh, it feels good…" you said, dragging out the last word while letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your boyfriend gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead.
"So, did you get what you wanted, kitten?"
"Mm, yes, daddy, thank you," you moaned.
His thumb ran over your lips and he pinched your chin. You opened your eyes to look at him. "Now… will you sit there quietly and let me do my job?"
You nodded lazily. "Yes. Yes, daddy, I will."
Namjoon smiled and gave you a quick peck. He looked down, pushing your skirt out and adjusting it so that it covered both of you up. He put his headphones back on and you, just like you promised, laid your head on his shoulder again and sat there quietly. Your position ultimately not changing at all and it still seemed very sinless, with the only exception that you were now so deliciously full and finally sated.
You tried to calm your breathing down. You clenched and unclenched around him involuntarily and he released a warning groan in response. It was hard to stay still at first, but once you got used to his length stretching your walls, it was surprisingly relaxing. He was big and warm and the most comfortable thing you had experienced in your life. You had never felt closer to your boyfriend than at that moment. You loved it in a very possessive way.
From now on this would be the only seat you'd ever take.
Namjoon loved it too. He didn't expect you to actually sit still, secretly wanted you to act out so that he could teach you a lesson afterwards. But now you looked as peaceful as a baby breastfeeding. It was funny how something so dirty made you look so chaste, and how that in return made you look, well... hot. He sighed. He really didn't think he would be the one having trouble controlling himself. Your pussy was moving slightly around him every time you squirmed, and he felt every single thing. Yet you had managed to drift into a light sleep, your cheek pressed on his collarbone, your lips apart, your breaths long and warm on his neck.
So pretty… So cute. Namjoon would make sure to fuck you so well when you two got home.
"Hey, Namjoon!"
Namjoon jumped right as the studio door opened wide. He hands quickly grabbed your hips, ready to push you away and pretend nothing was happening.
"Oh, is she sleeping?" Yoongi whispered and walked closer to them.
Namjoon froze. He looked down, your skirt was still covering you up. Then he looked at the other man. He seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on in there.
And that, for some reason, made Namjoon's dick throb.
"Um, ye-yeah."
"Heh, she's so cute when she sleeps on you like that."
Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek hard. His hips moved forward on their own accord, pushing further inside you so slightly that the moment went by unnoticed. But not by you. A tiny whine echoed from your throat.
"Hm, yes. What's up?" he answered, his voice husky.
Yoongi started talking, but if Namjoon were to be honest with himself, he didn't hear a thing he said. All he could register was his dick getting even harder while your pussy got tighter around him. He tried to stay still as he stared forcefully into his friend's eyes. What if he realised?
God, the thought alone made him suck in a deep breath.
"Okay?" Yoongi's voice was barely made out inside the younger's foggy head. But he managed to nod. "Can you do that for me?"
"Hyung..." Namjoon sighed. Just as Yoongi frowned at his friend's odd voice, you moved around, clinging closer to Namjoon, cutting off his oxygen supply completely. "Yes! Yes, I will!" he literally choked out.
The other rapper gave him an up and down and Namjoon would never dare admit how his eyes on the two of you made his stomach shrink. But he would admit to how he felt ready to combust and if you weren't left alone within the next thirty seconds, he would no longer care about details such as privacy.
"Cool," Yoongi mumbled, moving back towards the door yet still facing you. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."
The moment the door clicked closed, Namjoon gasped hard, taking in all the air he was missing. His hands -still on your hips- held you tighter, tight enough to leave bruises, as he panted and moved his hips slowly into you.
"Stop pretending you're sleeping," he demanded. A couple of seconds of silence passed, and then he felt your lips gently land on his neck in a small kiss, trying to play innocent. He snorted. "You–"
"Everything okay, daddy?" you asked in the purest voice you could master.
"No!" he exclaimed, dropping his head back on his chair. He thrust up as much as he could, but since he was already buried to the brim, there wasn't much space to move. "No, I'm not okay!" he growled. You immediately bit your lip, pulling your head away so that you could finally face him. He leaned slightly forward but the moment his eyes fell on you, his head hit his chair again. "Move!"
"But, daddy, you–"
"Fuck, Amy, if you don't– move!"
His hands pushed you slightly off him, and he immediately thrust into you. Hard. You had no choice but to cry out. Another thrust and you felt like you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, falling on his chest and clinging to him desperately.
"Nam-" you tried to talk, but the man had found his position and was drilling into you at a never before seen speed. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and all you could do was have your jaw hung open and a moan escape freely with every hit on your spot. He was animalistic, growling and groaning loudly with no regards to the public building you were in, and most importantly, without even noticing your attempts to slow him down. You pushed your palms on his shoulders, trying to lift yourself, but in response, he just bit down on your neck and made you moan harder.
This... This is exactly what you wanted. Wasn't it?
"Namjoon, the door is unlocked," you managed to whisper while he was licking your neck up and down aggressively. He just hummed in response. At least he heard your voice. "What if somebody comes in?"
Your boyfriend moaned. He slowed down, his right hand leaving your hip to move higher up, ruffling your shirt, squeezing your breast and wrapping around your throat. You gasped right as he tightened his grip.
"Let them see," Namjoon mumbled. His grip around your throat tightened even more and his hips picked up the pace again. But now, you had no way of making any sound other than choking. Namjoon moaned louder. "Oh, let them watch."
He finally let you breathe and right away he crushed his lips to yours, pulling you deep down on his dick and grinding inside you. You had never seen this side of him before and you couldn't help but drip arousal around his base. Just seeing how into it he seemed to be made you get closer to your climax.
"Bounce on my cock, you slut. Isn't this what you wanted from the beginning?" your boyfriend growled in your ear and you whined, immediately obeying. Jumping up and down.
"Daddy..." you moaned for his attention, getting closer and closer.
A hard slap on your right butt cheek. "Faster. Do it how you know you wanted it." Another slap.
Leaning forward you found a new momentum to slide up and down his dick faster, and his breathing instantly changed. You looked up through your lashes at him, gawking at his expression, face hot with coy and pride.
"Like that, daddy?"
He groaned, staring right into your eyes. "So needy," he mumbled. "Such a desperate slut, constantly wanting praise. Is that what you want, baby? For me to praise you?"
You almost missed your rhythm due to the effect his words had on you. "Da... Daddy..." was all you could say.
He held you from the ass, helping you move since you were so close to cumming it was getting hard. "Hm? You want me to praise that warm, wet pussy of yours that takes my dick so well?" You had to moan. "So well-" he repeated, "-that I can't resist it?"
"Daddy, I'm gonna-"
"You fuck me so well, baby. Hm, is that what you want me to say?" Namjoon continued teasing. "You're so good..."
"I'm gonna cum!"
Suddenly, you were empty. Namjoon had pulled out of you and pushed you away.
"Oh no, baby. You don't get to cum."
Your mouth dropped open, the sweat that glistened all over your face probably evaporating at how hot it suddenly got. "Wh- what?"
The man in front of you gave you the most shit-eating grin you had seen in a while. He got up from the chair and stood in front of you. "What? You really thought you would be rewarded with an orgasm after everything you pulled?"
You pouted. "But..."
Namjoon held your chin gently and smiled down at you smugly. "You've been too naughty, sweetness. Now, if you get on your knees for me, I might make you cum when we get home."
You bit your lips so hard it hurt. "Daddy..." you whined in the most seductive voice you had in you, giving him your big, puppy eyes. But he just released your chin and raised his eyebrows.
"On. Your. Knees."
Gulping, you lowered yourself down. If Namjoon said knees then knees it would be. You looked up at him and he sighed heavily at the attractive sight.
"Now, open up for me, baby."
You opened your mouth and drew your tongue out as far as you could, which seemed to please him a lot. Grabbing his dick at the base, he ran his head over your tongue. Getting desperate again, you closed your lips around him and sucked the head. That earned you a hiss. His fingers were suddenly all in your hair, his head fallen back, as he picked up right where he had left. He pushed the first couple of inches of his dick in and out of you fast until you were used to it and you swallowed more of him in. You couldn't take all of him, but you didn't need to: the tightness of the back of your mouth was all Namjoon needed to feel from you.
"Oh, God…" Namjoon moaned and you knew the moment the atheist started to call out to God, was the moment he was getting close. You grabbed his hips to halt his thrusts and instead just suck. Suck him hard enough to slurp his own soul if he had one. Hard enough to swallow his warm cum right as it was released down your throat.
You opened up your mouth with a satisfied "ah" to show him it was empty. Namjoon smiled and fell back on his chair, exhausted. Knowing you needed to be as good as you could in order to be rewarded afterwards, you gently tucked him back in his trousers while still on your knees, looking at him proudly.
"Did I make you feel good?"
Namjoon chuckled, ruffling his hair. "I swear all you ever–"
A knock on the door followed but a member right away. "Hey, Namjoon-ah, when-"
You both turned with dread to look at the door, finding a mortified Yoongi standing to it. His wide eyes moved from the fucked out looking man on the chair, to the girl on her knees in front of him, and he very wisely decided to disappear behind the closed door again without a word.
"Ah, shit…" Namjoon mumbled, but you just laughed.
"You know, he's probably still waiting for that translation," you said, which made your boyfriend look at you puzzlingly.
"What translation?"
You bit your bottom lip to prevent you from laughing again. "Babe! Earlier… he said he e-mailed you some lyrics he wanted you to translate to English. You said you'd do it."
His face scrunched up to the saddest 'oh' you had seen. "I h– I didn't– I..."
You showed your teeth in an 'oopsie' way. "Oh, well... At least now he knows what took so long."
Namjoon moved off the chair and pulled you up with him. "I need to– I mean, I should probably talk to him. I don't know, say it wasn't what it looked like? Would that sound believable?"
You chuckled again, getting on your tippy-toes to try and fix his hair. "Looking like that? Not so much."
Namjoon looked at his reflection on the black screen of his computer to fix what he could. "You should go home, baby. I'll stay here to make this right."
"What? No, but you promised to make me cum when we get home," you whined like the spoiled brat you were.
But your boyfriend grabbed your jacket, waiting for you to wear it. "Yeah, but that was before you got me in trouble, you brat."
You pouted. "No, I'm not going."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed your arms to push them through your jacket sleeves. "Get home now, Amy, before I change my mind and not let you cum at all."
You were ready to throw a tantrum, but as you were guided toward the door, you just turned and looked at him very seriously. "Namjoon, I swear to you, if you let me go now I'll find a better way of getting myself off tonight," you threatened.
But he laughed. "Oh, okay. Tell me, do you wanna go apologize to Yoongi perhaps?"
You shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps. At least he'd let me cum, wouldn't he?" you commented as you opened the door and were ready to leave. But Namjoon slammed it closed again. His arms caged you against it as he loomed over you.
"I have a better idea. You go home right now, undress, get in bed and wait for me without touching yourself at all, like a good girl, and I'll make you cum until you beg me to stop," Namjoon whispered darkly. You seemed to consider it. "There is no alternative, sweetness. You'll do as I tell you."
So you smiled. You gave him a little kiss on the cheek and agreed. Well, at least he thought you did. Because you were definitely going to disobey him by touching yourself back home until you had wet your bed waiting for him. Waiting for the punishment he'd come up with then...
#kim namjoon#namjoon#fanfic#bts fanfic#rm#rm fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts oneshot#namjoon oneshot#rm oneshot#namjoon smut#rm smut#bts smut#bangtan#bangtan fanfic#namjoon x reader#established relationship#bts x reader#namjoon imagine#needy
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petty ghost haunts their murderer but doesn’t actually do anything vengeful, more at eleven
note from kin: i don’t even know what this is myself to be honest but the simple way of putting it is that you were accidentally killed by one of satan’s fits of rage and now your ghost follows him around and messes with him at any given opportunity out of pettiness
basically i came up with the prompt ‘vengeful spirit is more of a slightly miffed and extremely petty spirit who doesn’t actually do much but inconvenience their hauntee, shenanigans ensue’ and ran with it
(as a heads up, reader is not mc in this situation, and this takes place before any of the exchange program stuff, so belphie’s not in the attic and solomon and the angels aren’t in the devildom)
fandom: obey me!
character(s): gn!reader, satan, beelzebub
pairing(s): satan/reader (though it isn’t particularly romantic since you’re, y’know, dead, so it’s more of a satan & reader)
warning(s): references to death, beel eats an entire rotisserie chicken
genre: crack (with a bit of fluff i guess???)
“For the last time, [Name], put the knife down.”
“Bite me, bitch-boy.”
Satan lets out a long-suffering sigh and sets down his mug of coffee, then reaches out and carefully pushes the floating butter knife pointed directly at his jugular back down onto the table. “I don’t know why you keep trying that. You do know it wouldn’t actually get through my skin even if you did manage to hit me, right?”
“It’s the thought that counts,” comes your disembodied voice from somewhere near the ceiling. You’ve probably decided to float up there to sulk like you always do after a failed attack.
“I’d prefer you didn’t think about it at all.”
A still-wet towel pulls itself from the rack on the wall and hits him square in the face. Satan gives an exasperated groan as it slides down his face and lands on the table with a soft splat.
“That’s what you get,” You sniff indignantly, finally materialising in front of him with a scowl. You’re floating upside down in a way that makes it look like you’re standing on the ceiling. “Buttface.”
“Come on, you can come up with better material than that,” Satan shakes his head, pushing back his chair and picking up the wet towel you’ve just flung at him to hang it back up again. “Where did all your creativity from yesterday go?”
“Six feet under with the remains of my body, probably,” you reply with a scowl. Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Confounded cheese wheel.”
“Oh, that’s a new one,” He comments, mildly surprised. “Where’d you pick that up?”
“Made it up myself. Ha!” You bob past him and through the wall, most likely to go terrorise Mammon by making his lights flicker on and off again. “Guess my creativity isn’t as dead as I am after all.”
“You still haven’t gotten over that, I see.” He sighs.
Your head immediately pops back out of the wall and glares across the room at him. “Excuse me?”
“It’s been weeks now - months, even,” Satan explains carefully as he sits back down at the table, not wanting to aggravate you further. The last time he'd brought something like this up, he’d ended up making you so angry that you’d managed to become physically corporeal enough to fling him across the room. “I would have thought you’d have passed on by now, that’s all. Surely it doesn’t take this long for the gates to the Celestial Realm to open?”
You consider his words, apparently appeased by their logic. “...I guess. Maybe I’m not passing on because I can’t rest in peace yet, like the ghosts do in horror films.”
“They’re films, you can’t expect to apply what happens in them to reality,” Satan replies flatly. “Besides, even if that was the situation, you've met all the criteria to 'rest in peace’, haven't you?”
“Are you trying to tell me, the dead one here, what merits as ‘resting in peace’?” You counter, floating back through the wall so that your entire body is in the room again. “My murderer’s still walking about like he doesn’t dress in the entire green colour spectrum and think it’s a good idea. How am I supposed to rest in peace knowing that?”
Satan looks down at his outfit, a little offended. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“What’s right with your clothes?” You shoot back, drifting over to him and passing a ghostly hand through his shoulder, apparently too lazy to muster up the energy to make your hand physical enough to touch him. “Look at it! Your blazer doesn’t even have lapels!”
“It isn’t a blazer.”
“Jacket, then.” You make a move as if to pinch at the fabric, but your fingers just pass right through it like a hot knife through butter. “It doesn’t even fit you. The sleeves are too short.”
Satan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to wear it if it didn’t fit me. Besides, why does it matter to you?”
“The demon I might be doomed to be attached to for the rest of my afterlife has the worst fashion sense in all three realms is the matter,” You sigh dramatically and float up to the ceiling again. “Why do you even wear rip-off jeans if you’re going to put a belt over it?”
“First of all, they aren’t rip-off jeans,” Satan tells you as you start idly making the kitchen light flicker. He should probably tell you to stop doing that whenever you get bored, but he’s gotten so used to it at this point that he can’t really be bothered to. “And, second of all, why does it matter if I’m wearing a belt on it?”
“Rip-off jeans are meant to be ripped off,” You explain with all the patience of a mother explaining something to a curious child, completely disregarding Satan’s first point. “Putting a belt on top of it kind makes that redundant.”
Satan thinks about it for a moment and begrudgingly comes to the conclusion that your statement is correct - not that it makes a difference to him. “...they’re still not rip-off jeans.”
“Think whatever you want to think, burro verde.”
“What?”
“It means green donkey in Spanish.”
He raises an eyebrow at you. “Where’d you get that from?”
“I took Spanish for, like, three years when I was in high school,” You shrug, and the light brightens and dims slightly with the movement of your shoulders, as if it’s shrugging with you. “Failed all the exams, but at least I got something worthwhile out of it.”
“Three years of linguistic lessons and all you learn is how to string together bizarre insults,” Satan shakes his head. “You really are incorrigible.”
“That’s a big word. You sure you know what it means?”
“Of course I do,” He gives you a slightly disgruntled look. “I wouldn’t use it if I didn’t. What do you take me for?”
“Someone who doesn’t know what incorrigible means, obviously.” You pretend to aim a kick at the spider perched quietly in the corner of the ceiling, but Timothy ignores your efforts to boot him from his web. After a moment, growing tired of bothering the little guy, you ask, “...what does it mean?”
Satan snickers, then answers, sounding as if he’s reading the definition directly out of a dictionary, “In reference to a person or their behaviour, unable to be changed or reformed.”
You contemplate his words for a few seconds. “Is that a good thing?”
“Not usually when that particular word is used for it, no.”
“Oh. Bitch.”
He pauses at that, moving his mug of now marginally cooler coffee away from his mouth again, having been in the middle of taking another sip when you decided to insult him again. “Where did that come from?”
“You called me incorrigible, which you just said is not a good thing to be,” You explain as if it’s obvious, frowning down at him. “So I’m taking it as an insult and insulting you back. Bitch.”
“You didn’t have to say it again.”
“I didn’t, but it’s fun to call you names.” You snort and glide down from the ceiling to float above the table, crossing your legs and pretending to sit down on it. “It’s not as fun as it used to be, though. You never get all puffed up about it anymore.”
“That’s your own fault for doing it so much that I got used to it,” Satan reproaches. “Besides, it was pointless getting angry. It’s not like I can do anything to you in return.”
“You could ignore me and pretend I don’t exist or something.”
“Is that what you want me to do?”
“No!” You hurriedly throw up your hands in a gesture of surrender and shake your head so hard that Satan swears he actually feels a breeze - an even more impressive achievement considering that your body isn’t even tangible. “Please don’t. You’re the only being in the entire universe that I can actually interact with.”
“Sometimes I wonder if that is a good thing,” Satan mutters.
“It’s a good thing for me, and that’s all that matters,” You reply, unfazed.
No one other than Satan appears to have the ability to see you, which is an odd thing in and of itself. Ghosts aren’t a foreign thing to the Devildom - they’re so common that you could probably just walk into a convenience store and find one shelving cans of soup - but you don’t seem to follow any of the rules that they do. Sometimes Satan wonders if you’re able to actively choose to not allow his brothers to see you as you drift around the house, but then again, he’s pretty sure that, if you had the option to make Lucifer watch you pretend to fist fight that weird skeleton hanging in his room, you definitely would.
Satan doesn’t pretend to understand the laws of your otherworldly existence - he’s read so many variations on the rules behind lingering spirits like you that he can scarcely tell the difference between pure fiction and actual logical hypothesis. It’s easy enough to wrangle you into behaving for a day so that he can observe you properly by promising to leave his radio on for you while he’s out, but the observations themselves never seem to lead to anything. He knows that you’re able to pass through any physical object (as far as he knows), can make lights (of both the electronic and candle variety) flicker at will, can muster up enough physicality to move and touch things if you try, and can phase in and out of perceivable view, but he doesn’t know why you can do any of those things.
“Quit trying to come up with explanations for everything,” You’d told him wisely a month or so ago, when you’d floated in on him muttering to himself about the possibility of something called ‘ether energy’. “You’re just gonna give yourself a headache.”
Then you’d started making his candles flicker like disco lights until he stopped.
“...but I don’t think he spotted me, since he probably would’ve commented on the floating meat cleaver if he did, and— hey, big guy!”
That last exclamation is aimed at Beel, who has just walked into the kitchen and is now rummaging unceremoniously through the fridge, most likely in search of something to eat. At this point Satan’s pretty sure that you still don’t know any of his brothers’ names - at the very least, even if you do, you’ve never called them by them.
Beel continues to sort through the various already empty boxes and containers in the fridge as you start zooming back and forth through him, marvelling over the sheer broadness of his chest and shoulders. It isn’t the first time you’ve done this to him - or indeed any of the brothers - but Satan can tell that it’s more innocent awe than any kind of objectification or intent to harm, so he doesn’t mind. As mischievous as you are, he’s pretty sure you don’t have a genuinely malicious or wanton bone in your body... well, you don’t have any bones anymore - or a body, for that matter - but the point still stands.
“Hungry?” He guesses, but it’s honestly more of a statement. It is Beel, after all.
The Avatar of Gluttony withdraws from his search briefly to offer a nod. “I didn’t get to finish all of my lunch.”
“Well, there’s a surprise,” You comment as Beel sticks his head back into the fridge, finally tiring of buffeting yourself back and forth like a pendulum and choosing to start hovering just over the second youngest’s shoulders to watch his hunt. “Wonder what he was up to that got him to stop eating.”
Satan opens his mouth to reply, then stops and closes it again. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Beel with the not-really-a-secret of your existence, but he’s sure that at some point or another, Beel will end up letting it slip to Lucifer, who would most likely want to know why your death ended up attaching your spirit to his brother, and Satan’s already gone to great lengths to make sure that the oldest won’t find out about the rampage he went on that cost you your life in the first place. It'd just be a waste of that effort for Lucifer to find out anyway. Besides, it isn’t like the information will make much difference to Beel - he can’t see or hear you, and you’re pretty harmless, so there wouldn’t be any need for him to get involved in the situation anyway.
You, meanwhile, are well aware that Satan isn’t going to be saying anything to you while one of his brothers is in the room - you don’t really understand his reasoning for it, since you like to think that you’re a pleasure of a ghost to know, but you suppose you can’t really force him to make any decisions. Besides, you’re pretty content with the way things are right now; you don’t want to complicate the situation by bringing in another demon who, as far as you know, might just smite you on the spot if they find out about your existence.
Instead, you busy yourself with watching in fascination as Beel somehow pulls what looks like a rotisserie chicken from the very back of the fridge and shove the whole thing in this mouth. You exchange slightly disturbed looks with Satan as he begins to chew - you’re pretty sure you’ve just seen him dislocate his jaw like a snake to fit it in there.
“You might want to calm down, Beel,” Satan advises after a brief moment’s stunned silence, though even he knows that it’s a fruitless warning. “You’ll end up choking.”
Beel nods, but makes absolutely no move to slow in his aggressive chewing.
“This must be what the peak of evolution looks like,” You say in bemused awe as Beel finishes eating. The entire chicken has disappeared down his throat - bones and all. “How the hell does he manage that?”
Satan doesn’t answer, but his subtle shrug says that your guess is as good as his.
Much to your surprise and Satan’s resignation, Beel immediately goes back to the fridge, apparently unsatisfied by the copious amount of fowl he’s just eaten. To be honest, you feel sorry for the guy - while the you from when you’d still been able to eat would have done some unspeakable things to be able to consume as much as he does and still remain that fit, you’re sure that the black hole he calls a stomach must be an awful thing to have to deal with. At least he gets to enjoy a lot of food because of it, though you suppose it’s a double-edged sword if he’s also constantly being scolded for it. Personally, you don’t understand the reasoning behind telling someone off for eating as much food as they need, but they are demons. You probably shouldn’t expect them to have that level of compassion.
By the time you break out of your train of thought, Beel has found something else to eat amidst the many empty boxes in the fridge. It’s much smaller than the rotisserie chicken - some kind of pastry with a dollop of snowy white cream on top, decorated with a few lines of melted chocolate to look like a cat’s face. In fact, it looks almost identical to…
“Hey, wait!” You swipe a useless hand through Beel’s arm as he raises the pastry to his mouth. “Don’t eat that—!”
Too late. The pastry disappears into Beel’s mouth, and you drift backwards again, letting out a defeated groan. Satan shoots you a curious look - you can’t eat, after all, so why are you so upset about Beel eating that pastry? Is there something special about it?
His question is answered when he actually turns to look at his younger brother. The Avatar of Gluttony has gone rigid on the spot and is blinking rapidly, his eyes the size of moons.
“Beel…?” Satan questions hesitantly. “Are you feeling alright?”
Beel takes a long moment to respond, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Satan takes a closer look and realises that Beel’s pupils seem to have dilated to an almost impossible degree, resembling a cat’s eyes when it’s about to go absolutely feral. Whatever it is was in that pastry, it’s definitely hit him hard.
Now, Satan isn’t one to interrupt good fun when it’s about to happen, so instead of stepping in and performing some sort of spell that might help on his possibly-high brother like a good guy, he sits back and watches as Beel’s head swings around the room as if he's never seen anything in it before like the mischief-loving little shit he is. Beel himself doesn’t appear to be negatively affected, so it can’t be that bad, right?
You float cautiously around the giant as his hands ball into fists. His entire body is trembling slightly with pent-up energy. Then, a split second later, as if he’s been zapped by some catalystic bolt of lightning, he abruptly snaps back on his heel and positively zooms out of the room. You can practically see the cartoony cloud of dust that he’s kicking up as he disappears down the corridor.
“He’s absolutely zooted right now,” You comment, flipping upside with a resigned sigh and crossing your arms a little grumpily. “I told him not to eat it.”
“He couldn’t hear you, you know,” Satan says, moving over to the fridge and slamming it shut, since Beel has neglected to. “What was even in that thing?”
You shrug. “Don’t know. I’ve just been calling it demon-nip.”
“I suppose that it does to demons what catnip does to cats, then?” Satan doesn’t even wait for you to answer before continuing - rude. “How did you even get a hold of it? Never mind that, how did you manage to get it in a pastry and put it in the fridge?”
“I got some help from one of the poltergeists downtown to make it,” You wave your hands about dismissively. “You should pay more attention when you go out. I disappeared for, like, five hours, and you didn’t even notice.”
“When even was this?”
“Tuesday, I think. Remember when you bought that giant bag of cat paw-shaped biscuits and then accidentally dropped the bag in the hall and got them everywhere?”
You don’t miss the way that the tips of his ears go slightly pink as he coughs subtly and averts his gaze. “...why would the poltergeists help you? They hate humans.”
“I don’t know, actually…” You ponder for a moment, then decide, “...probably because I’m cute.”
“Are you?” Satan deadpans. “Cute is what you’d call a cat. You’re just… tolerable.”
“Oh, fuck you, I think I’m adorable.” You huff, flying over and poking him hard in the side of the head. Satan hisses in pain and reaches up to rub the sore spot, but he supposes he should have seen that blow coming - you’re never too humble to make yourself physical enough to hit him after an insult.
“Where did that idea even come from?” He asks quickly, not wanting to take another attack. You may be a mere imprint of a dead human, but your fingers are sharp, and he’d prefer not to provoke you further if he can avoid it.
His change of subject is so abrupt and obvious that it’s almost laughable, but you choose not to call him out on it. As much as you’d like to set him on fire or something, he hasn’t given you a really good reason to commit arson yet, and you’d just end up feeling bad for doing it. Well, to be fair, he did kill you… but still, you don’t want to keep holding that over his head.
“I read it in a book.” You answer. Satan’s eyes light up slightly.
“Do you remember the title?” He asks almost eagerly, and you disguise a snicker. His intentions are practically painted in bright red paint across his face - he’s hoping that there’ll be more schemes like the one you’ve performed that he can use against that sadist of an older brother of his.
Unfortunately for him, the book doesn’t exist. “Yeah. It’s called One Hundred Ways To Get Back At The Ass That Killed You, Free Of Murder and Actual Crimes That Might Get You Persecuted And Sent To Super Hell.”
Satan clearly isn’t thinking very hard today, because for a moment he actually looks as if he believes you - you suppose it’s because he’s grown desensitised to the oddness of such long titles after hearing so many weirdly specific anime titles from the otaku brother that you still have yet to see come out of his room. (You’ve floated in a few times to have a look around and appreciate the decor, but other than that, you’ve barely even seen his face. You’re not even sure what his name is, to be honest…)
He realises what you’re getting at after a moment, though, and immediately frowns at you in disapproval. You just grin, pleased with your small victory.
“You're insufferable,” He says, shaking his head with an long sigh.
“No, I'm cute,” You counter, frowning. “Weren't you listening to me earlier?”
He throws his hands up hastily as you drift forward with a hand brandished and a nasty glint in your eye, unwilling to get jabbed at again. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
You, however, don't relent. Eyes narrowing, you float even closer - so close that, if you'd been physical, he’d have been able to feel your breath on his face. “Say it.”
Satan may be one of the seven most powerful demons in the Devildom (below Diavolo, of course, and possibly Barbatos), but the aggression of a pissed-off ghost, especially if that ghost is you, isn't anything he wants to be on the receiving end of right now. “Fine, fine! You're adorable, you're cute, whatever. Now will you leave me alone?”
You finally pull back, beaming in a gratified fashion. “That's all I wanted to hear!”
Satan gives you an irritated look as you drift back across the kitchen, a satisfied grin on your face. “You’re insufferable.”
“You’ve said that already,” You sing back, laughing in victory when you see his eyebrow twitch slightly in annoyance. “And you had the nerve to lecture me about creativity earlier! Why don’t you come up with better material, Mr Shoes-Up-My-Ass?”
He doesn’t reply for a good moment, attempting to think of a insult to counter your admittedly slightly juvenile one. Try as he might, though, all of his good jibes seem to have evaporated. “...shut up.”
His pathetic response, of course, immediately compels you to take the piss out of him. Clutching your chest dramatically, as if Satan’s just stabbed you with the knife you’d been waving about earlier, you wail, “Oh, thy words do wound me! 'Tis like thou hath rip’d my heart out with thy own hands!”
Satan glares you for a long moment, but he doesn’t have the heart to keep it up when you’re grinning so brightly. Honestly, you’re a nuisance and a brat sometimes, sure, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider you his closest friend at this point. “...do you even know how to use those words?”
You drop the act faster than Asmo throws it down on a Saturday night, shrugging and floating back over to hover just above the chair across from Satan’s. “Nope. It sounded right, though, right?”
“I haven’t read enough works in Old English to know,” Satan admits with a shake of his head. “But it did, I suppose…”
It’s kind of weird that he’s agreeing so easily, you think. Has he just had enough of your bullshit and is complying with to keep you quiet? Or has he just finally seen the light of your brilliance?
...well, you suppose it doesn’t matter. You grin and move to ruffle his hair, but forget to make your hand physical and instead end up flying right through his head. Satan shudders slightly - though he doesn’t feel it, it’s still weird to have an entire hand and arm go through his cranium.
“Could you not?” He complains as you right yourself and pull your hand back again. “This feels weird.”
“Baby.”
“Pet names aren’t going to do anything,” He sighs, pulling his chair to the side so that he’s no longer half-inside your torso. “Hands to yourself.”
“No, it was an insult,” You correct him. “I was calling you a baby. Though bitch-boy works too.”
Satan lets out a long sigh. Now you’re just back where you started.
#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me imagines#satan x reader#except it's more of a satan & reader#crack#ghosts#swd satan#swd beelzebub#I've taken a look through my obey me drafts and noticed a pattern#if i'm writing about one of the brothers beel always seems to show up as a cameo#now that i think about it this prompt has some real angst potential...#unfortunately i seem to incapable of writing anything but fluf and funny in these trying times#anyway i hope you enjoyed this!!#the ending is super abrupt but i've already spent too long on this thing so just TAKE IT
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