#or by examining their teeth and how worn down they are
Text
Asking the demons to count the rings in their horns to see how old they are
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
“oh, you poor thing…” you murmur, stroking megumi’s hair. he’d been caught in the rain during the walk home yesterday, and had come down with a bit of a cold. the seven year old is curled up next to you on the couch, his head resting in your lap.
you glare at satoru when he scoffs from his end of the couch, the tip of his nose rosy and dripping with snot. “i was caught in the rain too, you know.”
“take some nyquil.”
you don’t even bother to spare his suffering a glance.
“can i have hot chocolate?” the little brat asks, his request followed by a weak cough. “my throat hurts.”
it’s almost ten in the evening, and the kid’s already brushed his teeth. there’s no way you’d say yes—
“of course! i’ll make some for your sister too.”
satoru’s mouth falls open - because he can’t breathe through his nose and because he’s shocked. “can i have some too?”
“i’ll make you tea with lemon and ginger,” you reply, carefully adjusting megumi on the couch as you get up. you even steal his blanket, draping it over the kid’s curled up form.
megumi peeks one eye open as soon as you leave, and satoru swears the smirk that follows is directed at him.
people have told him that kids are supposed to be gifts. but later - when he’s watching a lame documentary and choking down some bitter lemon ginger tea as megumi is spoiled with sips of chocolately heaven - he thinks they must mean gifts from hell.
_____
your lips are brushing over satoru’s collarbone when he wonders if he’d locked the bedroom door.
but then you bite and all his concerns go out the window.
your breath is hot against his skin, picking up when his hands grip your waist. chests rising and falling, the two of you love in sync. slow, deep kisses are exchanged in time with gentle grinds—
“i’m hungry.”
it makes satoru startle, banging his head against the headboard as you sit up, stuttering as you both turn to face the doorway.
“megumi,” you gasp. “how long have you been standing there?”
the blush colouring his cheeks is answer enough.
“i’ll make you something to eat,” you offer, leaving your boyfriend with a very unfortunate situation as you climb off his lap, shooting an apologetic look over your shoulder as you herd megumi out of the room.
satoru swears the kid shoots him a smug grin over his shoulder.
this, he thinks glumly as he heads to the bathroom to try and calm himself down. this is why he needs to stop doing nice things.
_____
exhausted can’t even begin to describe the way satoru feels after a long day of bugging nanami and exorcising curses.
he’s practically dragging his body through the apartment towards the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to strip out of his uniform and fall into bed next to you.
but he can’t, because the first thing he sees when he opens the bedroom door is megumi hogging his side of the bed.
you press your index finger to your lips as soon as satoru opens his mouth to protest. “tsumiki’s at a sleepover,” you explain.
“so? i’ll carry him back to his room—”
you make a noise if protest, waving his hands away as you whisper, “it’s his first night here without her.”
hands on his hips, satoru examines the very little free space left on the bed. “so that means you’d let me sleep on the couch?”
he doesn’t like sleeping alone. hasn’t liked it ever since you’d moved in and he’d decided he liked waking to the warmth of your body next to his.
“well, you could sleep in megumi’s bed.”
“or you could wake him up,” he counters loudly on purpose, earning a shush and a glare from you in answer.
“this is a good thing,” you insist once you’ve ensured the kid’s still asleep. “it means he trusts us!”
“but i’m tired,” he whines, even stamping his foot a little for emphasis. “i wanna cuddle with you.”
“fine,” you relent with a little sigh. “but you have to wake him.”
gleefully, he goes to shake the kid awake. he’s about to do it, but all it takes is one look at the peaceful look settled over that little face. over the year he’d gotten to know megumi, he’s only ever worn a scowl, or a look of general boredom. so to see him like this, finally settled into the household…
it’s enough to make the sorcerer smile, even as he sets up the makeshift bed of blankets on the bedroom floor.
_____
“sharing is caring,” satoru proposes the next afternoon at the dinner table. it’s just him and megumi right now, as you’d just left to visit shoko. “so you can cuddle with her on the couch, but the bedroom is all me, got it?”
megumi frowns, staring at the list (can he even read yet? gojo has no idea) “but what about movie night?”
“fine, but only for a little bit. after that she’s all mine.”
he takes the kids shrug as agreement and moves on.
“knocking,” he starts with the utmost seriousness. “is a very important thing to do when any door is closed. and next time tsumiki is out, you’re the one sleeping on the floor.”
(they both know that’s not going to happen, but it doesn’t hurt to try.)
once the terms of their deal are finalized, they shake on it.
“so we’ve come to an understanding, good. because i’d rather have you as my bro than my foe,” he says, dragging the edge of his thumbnail across his throat for emphasis.
megumi rolls his eyes before sauntering off to his bedroom, and satoru sighs, letting his forehead hit the tabletop with a dull thud.
he’d fought off suitors vying for your attention before, but never one as tough to beat as this one.
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#keeping up with the fushigojos
15K notes
·
View notes
Note
Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Law, and Ace with fem S/O with healing water powers. The catch is that whenever she uses those powers, she feels pain from the wounds she’s healing. And this isn’t a Devil Fruit ability. It’s sorta like water bending from Avatar.
A/N: I really debated on how to lay this one out, but I chose to have them find out about her power. If anyone wants a head canon follow up on how they act now that they know, send me an ask :) I maybe made this a bit too long, but those soft moments with each of these boys are my WEAKNESS. (Law may seem a little OOC but I truly believe that man gets tunnel vision when he sees you in pain)
Characters: F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Law, Ace
Cw: blood, pain, injuries, angst, all those fun things. Sanji’s contains slight spoilers for WCI
Total word count: 6.3k
The Pain of Healing
Zoro
Word count: 1.2k
“It’s only five more minutes until my Haki returns.” Luffy says between pants, trying to catch his breath.
“Then I have five minutes to help you. Sit down.”
Luffy collapsed onto the ground at your command, and you examined his body as he slept. It didn’t look good. His body was riddled with scrapes, scratches, bruises, and he was bleeding out from his side. Several minor injuries could be more painful than large ones, but Luffy had a mix of both. The best thing to do would be to focus on the large ones first, and if you have energy left, fix the small stuff as well.
You guided water out of your flask and started with the hole in his side. You were used to the pain that came with healing by now, but it still made you flinch every time you started. You had to grind your teeth together to keep from crying out, not wanting to wake Luffy. He needed rest, and you didn’t want him to see the repercussions of your decision to help heal him anyway.
After five minutes, you’ve taken all of the major injuries away from his body, and you managed to take a few small ones away from him as well. You wipe the tears from your eyes before you shake him awake.
“It’s time, Luffy. Wake up.” You put on the biggest fake smile you can muster before his eyes flick open.
“Aw man, that was the best nap in my entire life! I feel amazing!” You stay seated as he stands up, your body too riddled with pain to move.
“Go get them, Captain!” It hurts to even speak, but Luffy’s already up stretching, too hyped up to notice your exhaustion.
“Thanks for whatever you did to make me feel so great! Leave the rest to me!” Luffy calls back, bounding off to finish the fight.
Once he’s out of sight, you fold your head into your hands and weep. The pain was immeasurable, and every time you helped Luffy recover, you don’t understand how he’s still alive. You sit there for a long time, crying until there are no tears left. And then you hear cheers from the village nearby, signifying Luffy has won and your work paid off. Knowing that you helped him win makes you feel a little better, and you need to see everyone again.
You stand up, ready to go meet the rest of the crew, but your body seems to disagree with your movement. Your legs shake, and when you go to take a step, you can feel your body collapsing, falling to the ground. You brace for the impact of your worn body against the solid ground, too tired to do anything else.
It doesn’t come, though. Someone catches you as you stumble forward. Strong arms wrap around your back and your legs, scooping you up and pressing you into his bare chest. Zoro.
“Easy.” His expression is stone as he stares at you, but you can see worry underneath. “You gonna tell me what the hell you just did to Luffy?”
You avert your eyes from his gaze, running the tip of your finger along the scar on his chest. “I healed him.”
You can feel his body tense with your words. “That didn’t look like healing to me. And since when do you have a Devil fruit power anyway?”
You bite your lip nervously. Nobody had caught you healing someone before. It wasn’t something you flaunted, or even something you told people about. “It’s not a devil fruit power.”
“Woman, if you don’t tell me-” he breaks off mid sentence, and you look around for any sign of danger. But there’s nobody around besides the two of you. You risk a glance up at him, and you see his face is pained as he stares down at you with a form of understanding. “You took his pain from him, didn’t you?”
Your mouth falls open from shock. You’re not sure how Zoro was able to guess something so accurate after seeing your power one time. You nod, confirming his suspicions. “He’s got an incredibly high threshold for pain tolerance.”
“How are you still alive?” Zoro shakes you a little when he asks the question, which causes you to groan in pain. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more gentle. Do you want to sit? Stand?”
The thought of being upright makes you dizzy. “Can you just keep holding me for now?”
He nods, and returns to questioning you about your mysterious power instead. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Yeah.” It hurt to talk honestly, but you didn’t want to tell Zoro that.
“How often have you been doing this?”
“Only like three or four times for Luffy, I think.” You're certain it’s been more than that, but you can’t tell Zoro that right now.
“Three or four times?? For Luffy?” You can feel him trying to figure out the meaning behind your cryptic words.
“There’s been a few other people I’ve done it for too.”
“Have you done it for me?” He's scowling at you, like he already knows the answer you’re going to give and he's waiting to scold you for it.
“Maybe once or twice,” you lie, and you feel your cheeks burning. He squints at you, and you know you’ve been caught in the lie. But he says nothing, he just readjusts you in his arms to hold you closer.
He had been walking for a few minutes, and you had almost fallen asleep. He had managed to keep you mostly still while he walked through the destroyed city, and you were too tired to care if he was lost or not. “It’s a neat power,” he finally comments. “You gonna tell me more about it? Or do I need to keep asking questions?”
“Can I tell you later?” You mumble into his chest. Between the safety of Zoro’s arms, the warmth of the sun on your face, and the exhaustion that’s set in from all that pain, it's hard for you to stay conscious.
Zoro doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and you struggle to stay awake while you wait for an answer. He was never one for mindless chit chat, but you could tell that something was on his mind, so you decide to indulge him.
“It’s not a devil fruit. I was born with it,” You start, and you feel a heavy weight lift off your shoulders with those few words. You’re so relieved that you can finally tell someone about your secret now. “I was never supposed to let anyone see it being used. If the World Government knew…” You trail off, thinking of how the Navy would turn you into a weapon. You shutter at the thought, and continue on in your explanation.
“The power isn’t perfect, though. I feel the pain of whoever or whatever I heal. It’s not permanent, but if it’s too much for my body to handle at the moment, I might die. I’m really not sure, I’ve never tried to heal a fatal wound before.”
Zoro is looking off into the distance with a faraway look in his eye. “Just like Kuma.”
“Who?”
“Back on Thriller Bark we met a Marine named Kuma,” Zoro begins to explain, and you focus all your energy into listening to him. “He took all of Luffy’s pain and told me if we wanted to save Luffy, I had to take his pain upon myself. It was just after his big battle with the warlord Moria, and the pain…” he trailed off, and you knew he was reliving the moment in his mind.
“Does he know about your sacrifice?”
Your question brings him back to reality, and he looks down at you. He chuckles at your question, and bends over to kiss your forehead. “Does he know about yours?”
Sanji
Some light spoilers for WCI arc
Word Count: 1.2k
You didn’t realize that your ability was keeping Sanji up at night.
Anytime he had a cut, or a burn, or any other kind of injury, you waited for him to doze off before you pulled out some water and healed his hands. The injuries were never serious, and after a few times, you barely noticed the pain.
You didn’t mind, and you knew how much your boyfriend valued his hands. It was your silent act of love to him, something you wanted to give him but could never tell him about. One morning after you healed a bad burn, you found him sitting up in bed, staring at his hands.
“Is something wrong, Sanji dear?”
The cook was examining his hands thoroughly, flipping them over again and again. “I could’ve sworn I had a burn here yesterday.”
Your cheeks tinted at the thought of being found out. “Oh, well maybe you just have superhuman healing powers!” You laugh it off, trying your best to act natural.
“Yeah, maybe…” You could tell something was bothering him, but he didn't say anything further.
You caught him staring at his hands throughout the day, as if he was waiting for a bomb to explode. At dinner you noticed a particularly bad cut on the topside of his hand - a cut he must’ve gotten while chopping vegetables - and you made a note to heal it that night.
He stayed awake later than usual that night, and he seemed more wound up with anxiety than normal. You peppered his face with a few kisses, trying to get him to relax some.
“Sanji, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He sighed, pulling you into his chest and laying down to finally get some sleep. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
He fell asleep quickly with you pressed into him. His slow, even breaths signified he was finally unconscious, and you pulled out some water to cover his wound. It stung you a bit as his flesh stitched back together, and you let out a low hiss in pain, and you froze as Sanji stirred slightly in his sleep. This wound was deeper than his normal cuts and burns; he must’ve been really distracted when he hurt himself. He wasn’t usually so careless around knives, but you knew whatever was bothering him would be revealed when he was ready to talk to you about it.
With his wound healed and Sanji’s breath returning to normal, you curled back into place against him, and fell deep into sleep.
You woke to a string of curses falling out of Sanji’s mouth, his body tight and tense against yours.
“Hm? Sanji?” You rub the sleep from your eyes and open them to find him staring at his hands again. “Sanji, what’s wrong?”
“That’s impossible,” he mumbled, speaking mostly to himself. He looks panicked, staring down at the place where his cut was yesterday. “That’s not humanly possible.”
You feign innocence as you have in the past, but you can’t ignore the nervous look in his eyes. “What is it, Ji?”
“I had a cut here yesterday. It was deep.” His breathing quickened, and you could see that he was scared for some reason. “It couldn’t have healed overnight. It’s not…It can’t be…”
“I’m sure it’s just-”
“You don’t understand.” He cuts you off mid-sentence, something he’s never done before, and it takes you aback. He gets out of bed abruptly, his eyes never leaving his hand.
“Sanji?”
“I need to go. I need to get out of here.” He’s pacing the room now, his stress overflowing into the space between you.
“Go where? Sanji, calm down. Talk to me-”
“I can’t be here! I can’t endanger you! Or anyone else, for that matter!” His face is contorted with such pain you’ve never seen before. You don’t know what’s going on with your boyfriend, but his reaction to such a small cut is starting to scare you.
You jump out of bed and stride over to him. When you reach him, you clasp his face between your hands, forcing his eyes away from his hands and up to your eyes. His eyes are wide with pure fear, and his breathing is rapid and shallow. You can feel his body shaking as you hold him.
“Sanji.” You push down your own fear and speak to him in a soothing tone, trying to bring him back to you. “Talk to me.”
“I’m a monster, Y/N.” Tears fill his eyes, threatening to spill out as he speaks. “If my body is regenerating like this…I’m a threat to you all.”
“You’re not,” You whisper. “You’re not a monster, Sanji.” You stand on your tiptoes to try and kiss the space between his eyes, but he pulls away from you.
“You don’t know.” He backs away from you, fear returning to his eyes again. “I am a monster. And now that I’m-”
It’s your turn to cut him off now. “I healed you, Sanji.”
His brows furled in confusion, but his eyes looked less panicked now. “Wha..?”
“I have this power,” you explain. You walk back to the bedside table, gathering some water from a cup and suspending it in the air. “I can heal people with water. I’ve been healing your small injuries for a while now. I wanted to make your life easier, I swear. I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just…I wanted to help.”
You see him relax the more you explain your powers, which was not the reaction you were expecting. He watches you move the water through the air, and tears finally flow from his eyes.
“Y/N-chan,” he sobs, running over to you, embracing you in a hug. He’s holding you tight, smothering you into his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you hide it?”
Your face burns against him, embarrassed that you had kept it from him for so long. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, and I knew you wouldn’t want me hurting myself for you, but-”
“Hang on.” He pulls back from you, peering down at your face with a frown of concern. “You’re being hurt?”
“Just when I heal people,” you rush to explain, seeing his frown deepen. “I just feel the pain of the injuries I’m healing, it’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” he corrects, staring at you disapprovingly. “Promise me you won’t do it anymore.”
“Sanji-”
“Promise, Y/N.”
“No! Let me do this for you!” You’re pouting now, but you know Sanji won’t cave on this matter. You know he can’t let you hurt yourself at his expense.
“I appreciate that you want to help,” he says sternly. You can hear the love in his voice as he speaks, and you know you’ll have to agree to his request. “But there are other ways for you to help me without hurting yourself. Please-”
“Fine. Promise.” You give him a fake pout, but when he pulls you back into his chest and holds you tightly, you melt into him. “Are you sure you’re okay, Ji? You seemed scared earlier.”
“I’m fine, really.” He rests his chin on the top of your head, drawing in a long breath before he says more. “I just thought my past was coming back to haunt me again, that’s all.”
You all stand there for a long while, just enjoying eachothers closeness. You only break apart when you hear Luffy screaming for breakfast, and you give him one last kiss on each of his hands before you let him go.
Luffy
Word Count: 1.1k
“Stay still, idiot.” You held Luffy down, looking at his wound in his foot.
“I can’t! It hurrrtttssss!”
“That’s what you get for wearing sandals in the jungle!” You could tell from the way the stick speared through his foot, Luffy wouldn’t be able to walk easily, and you still had another half mile before you made it back to the ship.
You knew you weren’t supposed to heal people while they were conscious, but this was Luffy. He was the love of your life, and the Strawhats were your only family. If you couldn’t trust them, you deserved to be locked up anyway.
You sighed, pulling water out of your flask in soft, flowing movements. Luffy was still writhing in pain on the ground, overdramatic in his reaction to his current impalement. It was possible that you might be able to heal him without him even realizing it.
You surrounded his foot with an orb of water, and imagined the wound being stitched together, just like your mother had taught you. You saw his rubbery skin begin to mend together, and braced yourself for what came next.
Your grip on Luffy’s ankle tightened when the pain came. It was sharp and fast, and it took the breath out of your lungs. You squeezed your eyes shut, but kept your focus on the wound and the pain that came with it.
“Wooooahhhh!” You could hear Luffy’s sigh of amazement, and you knew he had caught you healing his wound. “That’s so cool! The hole is just closing up!!”
You didn’t speak, afraid that your voice would betray you. The last thing you wanted Luffy to know was that you were in pain because of the healing process. You could hear him freaking out about how cool it was that his injury was healing before his own eyes, but you did your best to ignore him and focus on the healing process. You kept your eyes closed the entire time, using the level of pain to guide how much longer you had to fix his injury. Finally, the pain dulled, and then disappeared. You dropped his foot and opened your eyes again, trying to ignore the lingering effects that your body was dealing with.
Luffy was examining his foot closely, looking at it from all angles to see if there was any damage. He stood up, putting all of his weight back on his foot, and jumped up and down a few times.
“It’s like brand new!” He shouted with glee. He came over to you and wrapped you in a hug. “You’re the best, Y/N!”
--
Over the next few weeks, Luffy offered up your services to others throughout the ship. You knew that Luffy was incapable of keeping secrets, and you had never explicitly asked him to keep that information to himself. You never minded healing your family though, and the injuries were always minor. Luffy sent Ussop to you when he got a burn on his hand, and Franky when he got a bad cut on his face. Chopper sent Zoro when he had a sprained wrist. It wasn’t until Nami came to you with a nasty cut on her shoulder that the secret of your healing was revealed.
You smiled when she asked, and pulled water out to start the healing process. You coated the wound in a bubble of water, and clenched your jaw to prepare for the worst.
You were aware of Nami’s eyes watching you. Everyone else watched their own wound magically heal, but her eyes remained on your face, watching for any signs of discomfort on your end. You had a feeling that she was suspicious of your powers already. She had been the most interested member of the crew from the start, asking about the stipulations and origins of your power from the moment she had found out about it.
You kept your eyes on the gash, trying your best to mentally steel yourself for the pain that would come. You knew it wouldn’t be easy to hide the pain, but you were determined to make it look natural. When the feeling of pain ripped through your shoulder to match her wound, you gritted your teeth and kept your smile, but you could feel your muscles involuntarily twitch.
If Nami noticed, she said nothing. When you finished, you looked back up at her and let out a shaky breath, smiling. She eyed you suspiciously, but thanked you politely and left you alone. Once the door swung shut, you collapsed back onto the couch you were on, desperately needing a nap after that performance.
--
Luffy was awoken by a smack on the head.
“What?” He asked groggily. “Are we at the next island?”
“Are you some kind of sadist,” the tangerine-haired girl scolded, shaking her finger at him. “Or are you just a moron?”
“What are you talking about, Nami?”
Nami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, staring daggers down at Luffy. “Y/N’s power.”
Luffy rubbed his head, wondering if you could fix headaches. “What about it?”
“She feels pain when she heals people, you idiot. She probably feels whatever pain she’s healing.”
Luffy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that she just healed my shoulder. And she was in some serious pain while she was doing it. She hides it well, but I could tell she was hurting.”
Luffy bit his lip, trying to think back to when you had healed him in the forest. But he had been so amazed at watching his own wound heal, he hadn’t noticed your reaction while you were doing it.
“She seemed kind of tired after mine, but that’s it. I felt great though, so I carried her back to the ship!”
“So you are just a moron!” Nami punched him again. “No more free healing! Stop taking advantage of her!”
--
You woke up from your nap to rubber arms wrapped around you and Luffy’s round eyes staring at you intensely.
“Good morning,” you groan, trying to pull away from him to stretch.
He let you go enough to stretch out, but kept a tight grip on you. “Does it hurt?”
You freeze mid-stretch, silently cursing Nami for her hyper awareness. “It just makes me tired.”
“You’re lying.” He knows you so well. You move your fingers up to his hair, twirling his locks around your index finger.
“Yeah,” you sigh the word out. You’re painfully aware of his gaze, transfixed on your face.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because Luffy, it’s not that bad.” Your eyes move back to his finally, and you can see the hurt and confusion that is held within them. “And I like doing what I can to help my family.”
He nods, accepting that answer, and snuggles up into your chest, holding you tightly against him. You let him lay there for a while, twirling his soft strands of hair around in your fingers. There are few quiet moments between you and Luffy, and you cherish every moment you can get like this.
“Nami said no more free healings, by the way.”
You laugh and give his forehead a quick kiss. “Guess I’ll have to charge you double.”
Law
Word Count: 1.2k
“Fuck.”
Law’s breath was ragged as you pressed into his stomach wound. Blood coated your hands as you tried to stop the bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be working very well.
“I just need to...” Law coughed, and you could see red staining his lips. A small blue orb began to form in his palm, but it flickered out quickly. He was too weak to use his devil fruit powers.
“Fuck.” You repeated. There was only one thing you could do now. It meant exposing your secret and showing your captain your biggest weakness, but you’d do anything to save him.
You pulled away from his wound, and let your hands guide water from your flask, maneuvering it through the air. “Don’t freak out,” you say, and you cover the wound in water. You let it sit for a moment, and then begin imagining the wound healing.
It started as a dull, throbbing pain in your stomach. You began to think you were getting used to the pain, but then it began to grow, turning sharp and stabbing. You flinched at the sudden change in pain, but held your focus.
Law watched you work for a few moments with wide eyes, unsure what was happening or what he could do. You wanted to scream from the pain that was growing rapidly, but you held your tongue, hoping he didn’t notice your facial expressions contorting into pain. Tears filled your eyes, and you finally felt Law move into action, his hand gripping around your wrists.
“Stop,” he demanded, trying to push your arms away from his wound. You ignore his demand, keeping your arms locked against him, continuing the healing process at your expense.
“Stop! Y/N-ya, Stop it!” His voice rose in pitch, and you could tell he sensed your pain. His efforts to push you away are getting stronger, proof that his energy is returning to him. You feel relieved in the fact that he is healing, even if it is exhausting you in the process.
He finally succeeds in pushing you off him, and you fall backwards to the ground and lay there, dazed and stunned from your work. He quickly straddles you and pins your arms to the ground to ensure you’ve fully stopped whatever you had started doing to him.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Law stares down at you, angry and scared of what you’ve done.
You know his rage is out of fear, and you give him a small smile, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “You okay now?”
He stares at you, baffled at your question. He has energy now, and his wound in his stomach is almost completely healed. He knows it’s due to you, but he doesn’t know how you’ve managed to heal him so quickly. Fear. Betrayal. Anger. So many emotions run through him all at once. He has so many questions that he doesn’t know where to start.
He tightens his grip around your wrists, keeping you pinned down. “Explain.”
“It’s a power I was born with,” you say, closing your heavy eyes. “I can heal other people’s injuries through water.”
Law watches you carefully, certain that you’re hiding something. He squeezes your wrists tighter until you finally open your eyes again, looking anywhere but at him.
You can’t make eye contact with him or you know you’ll tell him everything. You can’t afford for him to know your secret, it was bad enough that he knew this much.
“You were in pain.” He says it as a statement, not a question.
You squirm from underneath him, trying to get free, but his grip doesn’t let up. He’s determined to get to the bottom of what you just did. He needs to protect you. He needs to keep you safe from all harm, even if that means protecting you from yourself.
“Let go.” You say, still trying to get free. His grip is starting to become painful, and you try to pull your arms away from him again. “You’re hurting me, Law. Let go.”
His eyes stare down at you, unmoving from his current position. The more you squirm, the tighter his grip gets, and you know he won’t let go until he has an answer. “Y/n-ya, why were you in pain?”
“It’s a side effect!” You cry out in frustration, finally giving in. You suspect he knew the moment he saw it. “I feel the person’s pain as I heal them.”
In his shock, Law’s hands loosen their grip, and you finally pull free from him. You try to turn away from him, but he’s still sitting on your stomach, and you don’t have enough energy to push him off. You rub at your wrists, trying to get the sting from his grip out of your body.
Law is frozen, staring down at you with wide eyes. He grits his teeth, watching you massage your wrists. “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for your hands again, more gentle this time. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
You let him grab one of your hands, and he begins massaging your wrists gently, whispering apologies to you. You close your eyes and try to forget that you’ve broken your number one rule about your power: telling other people. You focus on his wrist massage for a while, his own way to apologize for his outburst.
“Y/n-ya?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you save me?”
You sigh, opening your eyes again. This time, you meet his gold eyes, radiant against the sunlight. “You never want anyone to save you, Captain.”
“It’s my job as a ca-”
“I saved you because I love you, you idiot.”
You can see Law’s eyes twitch in surprise; his hands freeze against your wrist.
“You don’t get to decide what sacrifices I make for you,” you continue. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do to save you. That’s my decision. You’ve made many sacrifices for me, some extremely painful ones. Remember the incident at Low Sand Creek?”
Law doesn’t respond, but he slowly starts to massage your wrists again, which you take as a sign to keep talking.
“I don’t get to criticize your decisions on sacrifice. And you don’t get to criticize mine either. I love you, and I know you love me. Do I want you to risk your life for me? No. But that’s just something I have to live with. And so do you. Okay?”
Your captain says nothing, and you can tell he’s sulking over your lecture. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have to do this with him. Law was one of the smartest people you knew, but relationships weren’t really his strong suit. It resulted in you having to do a lot of explaining and voicing your needs.
“Law, do you understand?” You insist, needing to stand your ground. He had a tendency of not responding when he didn’t agree with something.
He huffs out an irritated breath. “Okay.”
You scrunch your face at him, shooting him a semi-fake glare.
“I understand, okay?!”
You twisted your hand to intertwine with his, and grabbed his other hand with your free one so that both of his hands were now holding each of yours. You locked eyes with him, and you could see there was something else there, something that was bothering him.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
He was quiet for a moment, as if he were working up the courage to admit whatever he was feeling. His eyes moved away from your gaze and focused on one of his hands instead, still intertwined with yours.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice comes out slightly choked, and you realize that you had forgotten to explain the most important part to him.
Your cheeks redden, embarrassed at your oversight. His eyes snapped back to yours, and now it was your turn to avoid eye contact.
“It’s… I was told to never tell anyone about it. Or let someone else see it.”
You can feel him staring at you, his eyes willing you to look at him, but you refuse. He waits patiently, and you know he’s asking you a silent question: Don’t you trust me?
“I trust you, I just…” Neither you or Law had really talked about your past much. You preferred to live for the now, for the future. The past was just too painful to think about. “People died protecting that secret. I didn’t want to add more names to that list.”
Law gave a dark chuckle at your response. “And after all that preaching about not deciding who gets to make sacrifices.”
Now it’s your turn to sulk. “That is not-“
He cuts you off, pulling you up to meet him, and his lips collide with yours.
He pulls back briefly, basking in your beauty. “No more secrets. Promise?”
“Promise.”
Ace
Word Count: 1.5k
Ace wasn’t used to being hit, and when someone made contact with him, it hurt. He grimaced as he limped from battle, blood dripping down his leg from the giant puncture wound in his thigh. You had your arm around him, helping him run, but his injury was slowing you both down, and the enemy was closing in quickly.
“Sit,” you commanded. “Let me help.”
“I just need to get back to Marco, he can help.” His breathing was labored, and you knew he was expending too much energy just speaking to you.
“I can heal too.” You helped him sit down, and you could feel his eyes staring at you, trying to understand your cryptic words. You chose to ignore him for now, and examined the wound. It was deep, but manageable. You braced yourself, and summoned some water out of your flask, covered his wound, and focused on stitching it back together.
Pain ripped through you, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself focused. It wasn’t the worst pain you had felt, but the wound was deeper than you had initially thought, and you could feel your muscles tearing apart, just like Ace’s had when he was cut. You knew that it was just a phantom pain, no actual bodily harm was being done to you, but it was still pain nonetheless.
You could feel tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, but you refused to stop until the job was done. You watched his muscle stitch back together, and when it was finally completely healed, you sat back and closed your eyes, exhausted and riddled with aches.
When you opened your eyes again, you could see Ace in front of you, you could feel him shaking you violently. He was screaming something, but you couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying over the loud ringing in your ears. Slowly, your hearing returned, and you realized he was screaming your name.
“Ace.” Your words were slow. You were still trying to come out of the fog of pain that always came with healing. “Stop shaking me.”
He finally stopped, but his hands were still tightly gripping your shoulders. He was staring at you in terror, fear spread across his face.
“What were you doing?” His voice was loud and piercing, causing you to flinch. “How did you…What do…Where did…” He struggled to find the right words, and you stared at him with still-glazed eyes while he tried to form a sentence. You were struggling to refocus after the pain, and were thankful that Ace was tongue-tied for the moment.
Ace took a breath, finally able to form a sentence. “I didn’t know you had a devil fruit power.”
“I don’t.” Normally you let people believe whatever they wanted in order to guard your secret, but this was Ace. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone. “It’s just an ability I was born with. I can heal people with water.”
Ace’s facial expressions had always been easy to read. Even in your dazed state, you watched as his concern turned to shock and then to confusion. You waited for the inevitable question to come, and it did. “If you’ve had this power, why haven’t you used it more often?”
“I…” you hesitate. You didn’t want to tell him the weakness of your ability. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because you did. You knew that if Ace discovered the trade off of your powers, he would never want you to suffer for him or anyone else.
You had told Marco about your power when you joined the crew, and the doctor had forbid you using your ability except in dire circumstances. Marco trusted you to make judgment calls on what you could handle, but you didn’t think Ace would feel the same way.
You could hear the enemy's battle cries getting closer, and you take the opportunity to avoid the question. “Let’s go. We need to get back to the ship.”
Ace stands, and you follow to do the same. You take a bit longer to get to your feet, still light-headed from the trade off of healing Ace. His attention has shifted to the enemy pursuing you now, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice your sluggish movements.
Ace’s fist becomes engulfed with flames, and he stands between the enemy and you. “Go back to the ship, I’ll hold them off.”
“Idiot! That’s what got us here in the first place!”
“Yeah,” He smirked back at you like the devilish fiend you knew he was. “But this time I won’t lose.”
You can feel your knees start to go weak, but you’re not sure if it’s from exhaustion or from the man in front of you. You hate to leave him, but you know you’ll only be a liability in this fight. With Ace’s energy replenished and the ability to fight in an open space, he’d finish off the enemy easily now.
“You better not die.” Your words hang in the air, and you take off towards the Moby Dick.
As soon as you got aboard the ship, you went straight to your room. You didn’t bother giving a report. Ace would do that when he returned. Sleep was what you needed now.
—
You woke with arms wrapped around you tightly, and the warm body of Portgas D. Ace pressed against your back. You weren’t sure how long you had slept, but there was no longer any light coming in through the porthole in your room. You shifted, trying to get out of Ace’s grasp without waking up, but his strong arms tightened against you when you moved, keeping you close to him.
For a long while you laid in the silence, unsure if Ace was asleep or awake. He wasn’t snoring like he normally did when he was asleep and he refused to let you move away from his grasp, but his breaths were even and he didn’t speak to you. You didn’t mind the quiet, your body was still exhausted from the fighting and the pain of healing today, and Ace’s warmth was almost therapeutic against your tired body.
“Your healing…” Ace's voice finally breaks the silence, making you tense from surprise. His voice was low and quiet in your ear. “It hurts you, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
You can hear the sadness in his voice, and you know that he’s figured it out. Whether he solved it on his own or if Marco told him, it didn’t matter now. You’ve always been a bad liar, and you could never bring yourself to lie to Ace anyway.
He squeezed you tighter, pulling you closer to him. There was another long pause, and you let him hold you while he processed everything.
“How bad is it?” His voice is level, but you can hear it beginning to grow thick with tears.
“It depends on what I heal. I just feel the pain of the injury.”
His forehead presses into the crook of your neck, and his breath becomes shallow and ragged. You can feel his emotions coursing through him, and all you want to do is comfort him. You squirm, trying to flip over so you see his face while you talk, but his iron tight grip refuses to let you move.
“Ace,” you speak gently, your hands pulling at his arms, and his grip loosens just enough for you to turn over onto your other side. You’re laying face to face with him now, but his eyes are squeezed shut. His freckled cheeks are wet with tears, and your heart constricts seeing his sadness.
You press your forehead against his, and use your free hand to brush some of his hair away from his face. You continue softly sweeping your fingers through his hair, soothing him as you speak. “It’s not so bad, Ace. But that's why I don’t use it very often.”
His eyes are still closed, but you feel his hands ball into fists against your back, gathering the fabric of your shirt in them.
“Why did you use it to save me then?” His voice comes out more of a demand than a question. It’s harsh, and you know he’s angry. Maybe at you, maybe at himself, probably both. His question makes you freeze, your fingers still entangled in his strands of hair.
You feel a slight prick of irritation at his question. You pull your head back and tilt his face up to look you in the eyes, but they’re still tightly shut. “Look at me,” you demand, your tone matching his from a moment ago. You feel him stiffen slightly at the intensity of your words, but his dark eyes open to meet your own.
Your hands find his cheeks, cupping his face, and you press your forehead back into his. Your eyes never leave his, and you can feel his grip against your back finally start to soften as he focuses on you instead of what you’ve done.
“I did it.” You pause for a moment, still staring at him. God, he was so stupid. You swipe your thumb across his freckles, wiping the tears from his sad, sweet eyes. “Because you deserve to be saved.”
#one piece#one piece imagine#one piece scenario#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#roronoa zoro#zoro#zoro x y/n#zoro x reader#zoro x you#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#sanji x y/n#sanji x you#sanji x reader#monkey d. luffy#luffy#luffy x y/n#luffy x reader#luffy x you#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law#law x y/n#law x reader#trafalgar law x y/n#trafalgar law x reader#portgas d ace#ace x y/n#ace x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Thinning Patience. (Larissa Weems X Reader.) NSFW
Summary: Larissa's patience has worn thin, thanks to a very bratty Reader.
Warnings: stern!Larissa, mommy kink, punishment, Larissa using reader to get off, slight degradation, face slapping, denial, just.. mean mommy Larissa.
One of life's greatest pleasures was riling Larissa up, you truly believed so. It was like free entertainment, really. Except, it wasn't entirely free — you paid with punishment. But was it really a punishment if you thoroughly enjoyed yourself every time?
How awful could a spanking be if Larissa made sure it never bruised you? Overstimulation was almost torturous, if it wasn't for the fact that you loved cumming so much. You were sure there wasn't a punishment that Larissa could dish out that you wouldn't be able to take. So when the tall blonde stormed into your dorm room one evening, roughly and messily tearing off her blazer, demanding that you "Get on the bed and take off your clothes" as she threw the jacket away from her, you couldn't help but giggle in excitement.
"Someone's a little frustrated," you teasingly pointed out, severely underestimating just how frustrated Larissa could get. After all, she was always so composed and level-headed.
Your first warning came suddenly. Before you could get into position on the bed in your own leisurely pace, moving from your stomach to your back, Larissa wrapped her fingers around your wrist, tugging you up onto your feet. Within a second, you were face to face with the Principal, close enough to see the darkness in her eyes — something you hadn't noticed before.
Larissa's unforgiving hand pinched your chin, tugging you even closer, "Safe words are red, yellow, green. Red is stop, green is good. You can grasp the concept, right darling?"
Her tone was harsh, low; you felt wetness threaten to slip out of you, throat suddenly dry. As you opened your mouth to answer her, late and hesitantly, Larissa silenced you with a slap to your cheek. A wave of shock coursed through you — mouth hanging open in surprise as your hand instinctively caressed the sore spot.
Larissa's stern demeanour didn't falter as she instantly placed her slender fingers back onto you — this time wrapped prettily and firmly around your throat, reaffirming her seriousness. "Answer me when I'm speaking to you. Do you understand?"
You nodded. Fuck, another smack — sharper, faster, blurring your vision for a second and then again, hand on your throat, squeezing, taunting you.
"Yes, Mommy."
"Red, yellow, green?"
"...Green," you managed to squeak out, avoiding her gaze.
"Ah," Larissa sounded pleased. A sick smirk brushed across her face as her grip finally loosened, "So you do understand simple commands after all."
"Yes, Mommy," you obediently confirmed, hoping to ease some of the agitation the woman was feeling, yet it was silly of you to think you could do that — Larissa had set a trap.
"Oh, you do?" the blonde’s eyebrows raised in faux-surprise before her face abruptly contorted in seething fury, "So when I tell you time and time again that it is absolutely not acceptable for you to prance around in those slutty, short, terribly distracting skirts, you understand all along — you just choose not to listen? Oh dear... That sounds like quite the punishable offence."
You whimpered, feeling her hold stiffen on your throat one last good time before she eased up finally, shoving you without warning back onto the bed; observing with growing satisfaction as you became small, helpless.
"Not so much the confident little brat you were earlier... Or yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that one too, hm darling?" You laid still as the blonde crawled onto the bed, straddling your hips. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you examined Larissa with droopy eyes. She steadily lowered herself down, purposefully rutting her hips into yours a single time — just enough for you to wonder whether it could've been an accident or whether Larissa was trying to play games with you.
A drawn out moan escaped your mouth; Larissa's palm immediately shushed you, firmly pressing over your lips. "I don't want to hear any of that, darling. The only thing that I should be hearing coming from that little mouth is your pathetic begging. God knows you're going to need it — Mommy is feeling quite cruel."
You held your breath in worry of a whimper escaping, cheeks forming a rosy tint in exertion. The scene was so filthy, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander, feeling as your pussy became slick and swollen. You were in a tight tank top and mini skirt, pinned under Larissa who’s own skirt had ridden up to her hips, lacy red thong on display. Black heels dug into the sides of your thighs but the faint ache only added to your pleasure. Her shirt was frenziedly unbuttoned, probably on the way to your room; the thought of Larissa being so pent up that she couldn’t wait to get inside your dorm to start undressing made you impossibly soaked.
You were torn from daydreaming as the Principal leisurely rocked her hips into yours, her throbbing clit brushing against the fabric of her underwear and your own pussy, sending shivers down her spine. Larissa’s warm hands began working on the rest of the buttons on her white shirt, hips setting an even pace. The sight alone could’ve made you cum, yet with Larissa’s wet cunt sliding against yours, brushing against your clit just right, your mouth began parting in an ‘o’ shape.
“You naughty minx,” Larissa tutted, halting in place. Within the time it took your eyes to flutter shut in delight, the Principals palm met your left cheek in a searing kiss.
“Ouch! I’m- I’m sorry—“
“I don’t think you quite understand what this is about, darling. So let me put it plainly for you,” Larissa wrapped a hand around your throat before lowering her head till she was so close, her lips practically brushed against yours when she spoke. “Mommy is going to use you to get off. You are not to make a single noise or show any sign of enjoyment, let alone touch me. After all, this is a punishment. The only thing I should be hearing, if anything at all, is pitiful begging — you know it only makes mommy cum faster to see you struggling… Did you get that, darling? Or should I slap some sense back into you?”
Larissa’s words were dizzying, paired with the hand on your throat that squeezed a little tighter occasionally, you were sure you couldn’t think properly.
“I-I understand, mommy.”
The Principal hummed in response, easing up entirely as she lifted from straddling your hips. You wanted to whine out in protest yet your cheek still felt like it was on fire, reminding you to remain obedient. Larissa adjusted until she was straddling your thigh instead, pleased sighs falling from her lips the moment her dripping pussy met your skin.
“You see, darling,” The blonde began, hips swaying lazily back and forth as you observed the tension leave her body — shoulders slumping, eyes fluttering open and closed, “This isn’t about your pleasure… It’s about mine.”
As much as you wanted to cry out to Larissa, telling her how unfair and cruel you thought she was, you knew it would just be futile. All the blonde would have to do is slide her hand into your underwear and your silly points would be dismissed immediately. You racked your brain, even as it felt mushy, before remembering what Larissa had said: you were allowed to beg. You battled internally over keeping your dignity or possibly being allowed to cum — it didn’t take long before you made a decision.
“Please, mommy.”
Larissa’s hips jolted at the sound of your whiny tone, breaking rhythm momentarily. With how distracted your mind had been, you only now realised Larissa had taken off her shirt and was mindlessly kneading her own breasts through her lace, ruby bra.
“M-Mommy,” you whimpered at the filthy sight, your inner demons getting the better of you as you stupidly reached out your hand, desperate to be the one making Larissa feel so good.
“Don’t you dare,” The tall blonde snapped, sharply swatting your hand away as she stopped in her tracks.
“I can’t take it anymore — I’m so, so sorry for being a tease, I—“
“Shut your pretty little mouth,” Larissa cut you off in frustration, “Why are you apologising? Can you not follow simple instructions? Are you so selfish that you can’t let mommy make herself feel good? You should be thanking me, darling brat. Mommy was kind enough to get herself off on your thigh — I could easily stuff your mouth with my panties and tie you in place while I—“
“No!”
Larissa brought her hand down onto your right cheek this time, the action causing tears to well in your eyes, “So disobedient… I ought to really make you cry, darling.”
“Please, no! I’ll be good, I promise. I just want you to feel good! Please, please use me.”
“Oh? That’s more like it,” Larissa smirked, eyebrow raised. She brought her hands back to her chest teasingly slow, kneading her breasts and flicking her manicured nails over her lace-clad nipples. Her moans, a few octaves higher than before, filled the room as the older woman tested your ability to behave for the last time. You laid still as stone, hands balled into fists beside you; your breath hitched in the back of your throat. “If only you had been this obedient before, maybe I would feel generous enough to let you cum too, darling.”
“Please, mommy,” you begged pathetically, your words drawn out and whiny. Larissa’s pace faltered as she groaned in pleasure, eyelids falling shut. You bit your lip before trying again, “Please, please let me touch you mommy.”
“N-No.”
Although Larissa was firm, you didn’t miss the way she shuffled forward, her strong knee pressing into your pussy. The blonde continued rolling her hips into your thigh as if nothing had happened, trailing wetness along your skin.
You had been waiting for Larissa to touch you all day, hence why you had worn a shorter skirt this morning, so the little pressure you had on your pulsating clit already felt overwhelmingly pleasurable.
“P-Please, mommy. Can I- Can I?” You desperately whined, forcing your moans down in fear of losing the touch you were given.
Larissa’s hips stammered again and a low chuckle left her mouth, fingers tugging her bra down roughly and wrapping around her nipples, twisting, pulling. “God, you’re pathetic, darling. You’re going to make mommy cum.”
“Please! Please, c-can I?”
“No, don’t— oh, fuck,” Larissa’s words melted off her tongue as she grew animalistic and desperate, rutting against your thigh as she chased her orgasm. Her body gave out just as she reached her peak with a cry of relief, gravitating into your chest. You almost sobbed when she moved her knee away from your soaked underwear, a single whimper escaping in devastation.
Larissa rolled onto her side, resting her head onto her arm, chest pink-tinted and heaving, “Poor thing. Were you close, darling?”
She looked down at you in pity and you couldn’t help the pout that formed on your lips. It was only right for Larissa to kiss you gently in that moment, pulling away too quickly for your liking.
“Mommy is going to finish up with work. I expect you know not to touch. You don’t want to make me angry again, darling, do you?”
You shook your head ‘no’, defeatedly watching as the blonde got dressed. You couldn’t believe it, but maybe there was a punishment that Larissa could dish out which you wouldn’t enjoy as much, after all. You didn’t think she had it in her to deny you, let alone return to work not knowing if you were truly going to obey. Larissa had surprised you and herself — the entire rest of her day, a smirk played on her lips. Deep down, the blonde even hoped you would misbehave again, giving her the perfect excuse to turn you into a little toy that she could use for her pleasure alone.
#larissa weems x reader#larissa weems x you#wednesday fic#principal weems x reader#larissa x reader#mine#fic
479 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kiss It Better
Dirtyhands is no stranger to brawling, he returns to the slat with his face bruised and knuckles bleeding, hoping for a little refuge from the intensity of the barrel.
No warnings just hurt and comfort as well as a briefly shirtless Kaz
Enjoy this garbage!
...
Kaz Brekker sucks in a sharp breath, pain shooting up his side and across his chest as his lungs expand. He leans heavily on his cane, hand clasped so tight over the crow’s head he worried the metal would be crushed in his grasp. He smacks his lips and endures. He still has the trip up the stairs to suffer through.
The sweet aroma of the Slat welcomes him as he stumbles inside. But it does little to sooth the ache in his ribs and calm his burning skin. Hands all over him. Water rising up over his shoulders to suck him under. They’d touched him with their disgusting bare hands. He felt sick. He clearly relives the sweaty hand squeezing his throat and closing off his windpipe.
Warm drops of sweat bead along his forehead, some find their way down his spine. He clutches the banister and lifts one foot at a time. The climb is painfully slow and he has to stop several times to quell the epicenters of agony blooming all over his exhausted body.
He’s about halfway up when another fair of footsteps begin to accompany his. You ascend the worn steps much faster and are by his side in seconds. You don’t touch just listen.
Kaz refuses to look into your eyes. He knows how upset you get when he’s hurt. You may never say anything because you understand how the Barrel functions but he can see it in your eyes and if he looks now his guilt for worrying you will overwhelm him before he gets to his office.
You tread in the silence with him, your presence helping him find some sound mindedness. The waters begin to recede finally. Breathing becomes a little easier.
He climbs and climbs until, at last, he leans upon his office door. “May I come in?” You ask quietly. Kaz only nods. He’s grateful for your companionship and he needs it now more than anything.
He all but falls inside, grimacing and gasping when his muscles seize up. This when you step in. You reach out, with just the tips of your fingers, and prod his waist ever so gently. The touch is meant to guide him towards his wing backed chair that he likes to lounge in after rough days. He tenses but responds. He takes the final few steps that cover the distance from the door way to the chair, and slouches into the cushy leather.
Not being able to miss his pain, you search he medicine cabinet in his bathroom for some paint medicine and fill him a glass of water. Kaz mutters a “thanks” and swallows down two of the pills.
Next is cleaning up the cuts and tears in his skin. There’s a small laceration beneath his left eye, the blood already coagulating. You soak a clean cloth in rubbing alcohol and wrap it around your index finger. “Is alright if I clean you up, Kaz?”
Kaz nods again and tilts his back into the leather. You press the cloth first to the cut. His lips twist and eyes scrunch closed. You rub gently, it’s small so there’s no need to dig and soak or really even bandage.
You examine the rest of him: a busted lip, bruised throat, and bloody knuckles which are now revealed from the removal of his gloves. He tosses them onto his desk and sighs. You set to work on his lip. A flicker of motion draws your eyes away from the stained cloth and angry skin. His eyes are open, watching you. Trying to figure out why you still care so much.
Once his lip is cleaned, you crouch down and begin to scrub at his knuckles. You don’t hold his hand, simply pin it between his knee and the cloth. Blood and ripped skin come away from the peaks of his hand. Internally you cringe. You can practically hear his teeth sanding away at each other as he fights down the pain.
You take a break from his hands, Kaz lifts the hem of his shirt so you can check his torso for cuts. There aren’t any meaning his heavy coat cushioned his ribcage enough to keep the skin from splitting. But still, the dark purple splotches stretching over the delicate skin of his ribs breaks your heart.
“No need to look so blue.” Kaz grunts. There’s a slight smirk gracing his lips, the swollen fat, busted lip twitching.
You raise a brow, “Can’t help it. You know I hate this.”
“Can’t stop it.”
“Can’t I!” Your snap makes him chuckle.
“What? You gonna strap me to this chair, shackle me to bedposts?”
“Don’t tempt me.” You grumble and this makes him smile.
“You know how easily I can pick locks.” He straightens up a little, proud.
You toss ideas around in your head, “I could kiss you. That’d make you stay put for a while.”
This wipes the grin off his face. Now it’s your turn to laugh. Dirtyhands is practically pouting. He drops his shirt and rests his chin in his palm. “Whatever.”
Kaz’s weakness is always a tender subject. You’ve never actually used it against him and he trusts you not to. But still, it’s not fair how badly he wants to kiss you but can’t. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if your lips were a weapon that left him defenseless for a little while.
If only to have that one kiss.
You set in on the knuckles of his other hand. A long snake-like scar trailing across the skin. You’ve never found out where it came from but it’s always caught your attention.
As Kaz watches you work, he recalls something. A very distant memory of his mother kissing his scraped palm. He’d tripped and scraped it on the gravel roads while out helping Jordie. His mother and dabbed at the torn up skin like you were doing now, and then when she had it all bandaged she placed a loving kiss on the meat of his palm. He remembered how comforting the gesture was.
He thinks of your lips.
He watches you wind clean white bandages over his reddened knuckles. You won’t actually be touching his skin.
The kiss-
“Darling,” He begins. You’re certainly not his mother. But you are perhaps the only refuge he has left. “Will- willyoukissitbetter?”
The words spill out so fast you almost don’t know what he’s asking. But then you see the blush spreading on his cheeks. His gaze drops from yours. He’s bashful.
You smile and scoop his palm carefully into yours. You bring his knuckles to your lips and lay a kiss onto the bandages. Kaz blushes impossibly deeper and turns into his other palm, hiding from you.
“Give me the other.” You demand and hold out your hand expectantly. Kaz glances sideways at you and drops his other palm into yours. You kiss the knuckles of this hand, this time laying a quick peck to each curved bone.
The waters are at his feet but Kaz will win this time. Victory will be his and maybe, just maybe, he’ll have a kiss as his trophy.
You kneel before him, replacing his hands over his knees, “Anything else?”
Your eyes glitter, not like the stars, but like the flickering candles in the windows of the Barrel. There’s an enveloping solace to them. He’s drawn in and fallen prey to you.
Dirtyhands has been properly succored.
He taps his blackened eye. Wringing his fingers nervously. What will your lips feel like on his skin? What if he can’t handle it?
Then you are there. Your warm breath fans over his throbbing cheek. So lively. Your lips brush tentatively across his cheekbone before finally coming to rest just beneath the cut. Kaz closes his eyes and revels in the proliferating amenity in his chest like creamer in coffee.
Then you’re pulling away and the water fills your absence.
Come back!
He wants to call to you.
Don’t leave me!
You survey his expression, monitoring his emotions the best the you can. His walls are falling apart and he cannot scrape together fast enough to keep you out.
His hand cups your jaw, his head tilts, he pleads silently for your sympathy. Just the compassion he has never found in the Barrel. All in a kiss.
Your beholden eyes never leave his as your chin tips forward. Your lips slot against his. Through the blood of his pulsing lip and the bile in his throat, he tastes glory.
The splendor and conquest spread from your tongue, onto your lips, and flood his insides. He melts like chocolate, heart thundering against his chest. He can’t breathe, whether it’s from the panic or the joy, he can’t decipher.
The length could not dampen the kiss. Kaz has gained ground. His shaking hand leaves your jaw and you part. He wants to kiss you again but he knows he’ll over do it. So you thanks you. He leans back in his chair and smiles at you, finally relaxed.
You’ve given to him freely and in time he’ll return it. But most importantly he’s found that you cannot defeat him through touch. “See.” His grin grows mischievous. “You could not keep me here if you tried.”
...
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading this post. If you liked it your are welcome to checkout my masterlist as well as request. Feedback is always welcome. If you have any questions you are free to ask and once again, thank you for reading. Have a nice day.
-the author, Lady
#kaz x reader#kaz brekker x reader#six of crows#shadow and bone#crooked kingdom#kaz#kaz brekker#hurt and comfort#blood#injury#touch aversion
662 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Star Review // J. Todd x gn!reader
Requested? Yes!
Warnings: injury, blood, medical talk
Summary: When working a late night shift at the drug store, a certain vigilante comes stumbling in with a stab wound and a bad attitude.
The bell over the door chimed, setting off your Pavlovian response to greet the incoming customer. By the time you raised your head, you found no one standing there. Peeking over the counter, you spied a trail of blood drops on the linoleum tiles and sighed.
Working at a twenty-four hour drugstore in Gotham was a guarantee for stories to bring home to your roommates, but the novelty had worn off by the third robbery. You wished you could say that random people stumbling in with injuries was rare, but you weren’t raised to be a liar.
“Hi, can I help you?” you called. A low curse met your ears and you moved out from behind the bulletproof glass covered desk to peer down the aisles. The trail led you towards the first aid section. Of course.
“Do you need help?” you tried again.
“Fuck off,” was your reply.
You huffed and turned around the end of the aisle to find Red Hood of all people leaning up against the shelves with one hand clasped over his side and the other full of various first aid items. Planting your hands on your hips, you stared at him with an unimpressed look on your face.
“This is my store, bitch boy. Don’t tell me to fuck off,” you snapped. “And sit down before you hurt yourself worse.”
“I’m gonna write a review,” he grumbled. “Terrible service. Employee called me a bitch boy.”
“Tough,” you said. You gestured for him to follow you over to a chair next to the blood pressure cuff. “Now move it.”
He sighed and maneuvered his large frame into the small chair. Red Hood pulled his hand away from his side and you could see the angry, pulsing wound under his destroyed body armor. A hiss of empathetic pain passed through your teeth and you leaned in closer to see it.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he snapped.
“Do you want to be a dick and bleed out or do you want help? Because you can’t do both.”
That shut him up, thankfully. You poured a glob of hand sanitizer on your hands and scrubbed it in before you pulled on a pair of the latex gloves from the box he grabbed. Gently, you pulled his ruined kevlar away from his skin and examined the wound.
“You got stabbed,” you noted. “Didn’t go too deep, luckily. Must have been a sharp knife to break through this material.”
“Assassins,” he muttered.
“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Grabbing the saline wash and some clean gauze wrappers, you ripped open the gauze and poured saline on it. Without giving him a warning, you pressed it against the wound. Red Hood, to his credit, barely flinched.
“I’m in an EMT class right now,” you explained. “I’ve always been interested in this stuff but shit, it’s expensive. By the way, you better be paying for this stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah. Put it on my tab,” he said through gritted teeth.
The two of you fell into an easy silence as you packed his wound and applied a layer of thick gauze before taping it onto his skin. You tried to ignore the very pronounced dips of his abs, but how could you when they were right there? The second you were done taping down the edges, he was fighting to stand up.
“Woah,” you exclaimed. Your hands landed on his shoulders and you pushed him back into the seat. “You lost a lot of blood so I wouldn’t try to get up too quickly.”
“I need to get back out there,” he argued. “Thanks for the help, but you did your job. Now I need to do mine.”
Your face went deadpan and you stared at him with pursed lips and raised brows. “Okay, fine. But if you go out there and ruin my handiwork, you will have to live with the guilt of knowing that you were a dick to a retail employee.”
Red Hood’s helmet stared off into the distance for a moment before he grumbled out a “fine” and settled back in the chair. A triumphant smirk settled across your face and you started to gather up the trash you had tossed around you when patching him up.
“Let me grab you a juice and some crackers to help with your blood sugar. Any kind you want?”
He sighed. “Apple, please.”
When you returned to the back of the store, the chair was empty except for a single one-hundred dollar bill and a business card. The card was face down, blue ink marking the empty white space of the back.
Call her, it instructed. You flipped it over and read the name printed on the front. Dr. Leslie Thompkins.
“Huh,” you murmured to yourself. You were definitely telling your roommates about this the second you got home.
Tag List: @mcrmarvelloki @gone-batty-fics @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @kat-nee @khaylin27 @igotanidea @princessbl0ss0m
551 notes
·
View notes
Text
—it will come back
charles leclerc x female reader
summ: recounting the perfect proposal.
mackie here... just a lil blurb because I am constantly enthralled by something secret rn that I can't tell you about and needed to get it out. anyways title from this song.
The ring sits on your finger snugly, fingertips carefully examining every edge, every curve, every detail. “Does it fit okay?” He asks from the other side of the couch, left leg pulled to his chest, chin digging into his knee, fingers picking at the rubber on the bottom of his shoe. You wish he wouldn’t do that–wear his shoes on the furniture.
“It’s a bit snug,” you guiltily admit. “But, it’s not expensive to get them resized,” you add hastily.
“Oh yeah,” he nods. “That won’t be an issue.”
You can’t take your eyes off the diamond, the way the light from the windows reflects off it, sends fractals off in a million different directions. It’s the nicest piece of jewelry you’ve ever worn, surely. “It was so perfect, Charles,” you hum contently, a soft smile on your lips. “The whole day.”
It was perfect, really. You couldn’t have planned it better yourself.
You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t see it coming from a mile away, if you claimed not to have whispered engagement rings into the speaker of his phone during a drunken night or a hungover morning, if you hadn’t spoken at length with all of your friends about exactly how you dreamt your proposal would go.
So, when you were woken up to the smell of sizzling bacon and a boyfriend with a trayful of breakfast foods in bed, you made sure to chew each bite carefully. No diamond ring was going to slip down the back of your throat.
“There’s nothing in the mimosa,” he’d laughed when he noticed you sipping the drink through your teeth. “There’s nothing but food in any of it.”
“Right,” you’d laughed, taking a big swig of the drink.
And after, when he told you he’d made you and your sister a nail appointment at your favorite salon, when he added that you and he were meeting his family for dinner later that night at one of the nicest restaurants in town, you knew.
What do you know?? You’d messaged your best friend.
I know nothing and what am I supposed to know? Were the only replies you received from anyone all day.
Not that you needed much convincing, but your sister insisted you get a simple french tip. It’s classy, she told you. It’s bridal, you retorted, and she didn’t even flinch, just kept silently flipping through the book of colors.
You sipped champagne at the bar while the two of you waited for your table at the restaurant. He’s neer been a good liar, but you could tell he was really trying his hardest with the I don’t know, they must be late schtick he was trying to pull on you whenever you asked about his family and their supposed ETA. He ordered a moscow mule and didn’t take a sip of it the entire time you waited, kept his hands shoved deep in his slack pockets while you talked his ear off.
It was at a table on the waterfront dining area that he did it, after a long winded speech about everything the two of you have been through, about how he never knew love before he knew you, about how he wants to spend the rest of his life laughing at your stupid jokes. You cried, he cried, and then he got down on one knee in the middle of the restaurant and popped open the velvet box he’d had stowed in his pocket for the entire evening.
“He really said that?” Charles asks. “He didn’t know love before he knew you?” You looked up from the ring, met his far away eyes and nodded. He sighs, heavy and loud and leans back against the seat. His eyes are locked on his own fingers now, finding more interest in rubbing at the bruise on his knee than looking through you. “That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
You swallow hard. “Can you be nice, please?”
“No,” he replies bluntly.
He took you to a club after, had the whole back room booked and filled with your friends and families. Everyone was invited, everyone was there. Everyone but Charles. When you’d texted him again late that night, a picture of your ring, his response felt like a punch to the gut.
I definitely did not know about that.
It was perfect. Almost perfect.
#f1#f1 blurb#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc x reader#formula 1#cl16#charles leclerc angst
537 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh Baby, You Part 23 - All it Takes is a Smile
prev « masterlist » next
It's not a new thing he's learned today— that Wonwoo hates being home alone.
Still, it settles in again as he ambles aimlessly around the apartment. A half-empty coffee cup sits in his hand, long gone cold by now. Although it's a Saturday, Junhui is at the lab, and Minghao is in his studio, working on a new, large scale piece.
Wonwoo sighs as he submits another letter of intent. His intent is to get his sorry ass out of this slump he's in, but that's not what any potential employers need to know.
He hears the crying before someone knocks frantically at the door.
On any other day like this one, Wonwoo might let his shoulders slump, slowly rise from his worn down gaming chair, and go grab the food he ordered online — after assuring the delivery person has already left so he doesn’t have to interact with any humans who might find him pitiful. But he hasn’t ordered anything today, and the crying…
That little boy?
Wonwoo finds himself up on his feet and opening the front door before he really understands what’s going on.
Your son, face scrunched up and one hand curled in a fist in front of his eyes, sobs at the volume of a small jet engine. His other hand is attached to a larger one, and Wonwoo’s eyes follow the joined arms up to the face of a man he vaguely recognizes. He’s not you — that’s what Wonwoo’s brain registers first, as unhelpful as that is.
Next, he sees the cloth clutched in the man’s other hand, and how it’s slowly soaking through with red.
“Hey,” the guy says breathlessly, a smile on his face for reasons Wonwoo can’t possibly comprehend. “Thank god you were in there— I think I need stitches.” He raises his hand with the cloth. The boy is still crying. “Can you drive? And watch the little guy?”
Wonwoo doesn’t think. He just nods.
There’s a booster seat in the guy’s — Chan, he introduced himself as — car, which is an automatic, to Wonwoo’s temporary relief. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t drive to the hospital. The bloody cloth in Chan’s hand is starting to freak him out. Not more than how relaxed Chan seems in the backseat, though.
He’s spent most of the ride just calming the crying boy down, who doesn’t seem to be hurt himself, just worried for this Chan character.
“Who… are you?” Wonwoo asks, then corrects himself. “I mean, how do you know— I mean, are you their…?”
Don’t say boyfriend. God, please don’t say boyfriend.
Chan’s eyes meet Wonwoo’s in the rear view mirror while he internally chides himself for still caring,
“I’m their friend,” he says. “Are you?”
The question stumps Wonwoo.
Is he your friend? He doesn’t think so. Not now, surely.
Why does Chan want to know? He must have seen Wonwoo’s great escape from the boy’s birthday party. How much have you told him about your shared past?
Why is Chan looking at Wonwoo so intently?
“I used to be,” is the answer he settles on. It sounds about right, as much as it hurts to say.
Chan tilts his head. “What happened?”
Frowning, Wonwoo glances at your son, who’s currently distracted by a squishy foam ball. Still, is this guy really asking that question in front of your kid?
“I moved.”
“Why?”
“I got into a university program in Mongolia.”
Chan hums, nodding. “So you left.”
“You don’t—” Wonwoo bites back a growl, breathes out, and speaks through gritted teeth. “You don’t know me.”
The last few minutes of the drive are silent, save for the child’s occasional babbling.
When they get to the hospital, the boy tries to follow Chan into the examination room, but Chan practically drops him on Wonwoo’s lap. “Stay with Uncle Wonwoo, okay Orion? The doctor is going to fix me right up and I’ll be back suuuuper soon.”
Uncle Wonwoo.
He knows Chan must’ve said that to placate the child, but Wonwoo wonders if Chan knows how those two words twist something deep in his gut.
If he had stayed, all those short years ago, would he be something else to this boy?
A dad?
Wonwoo wraps his arms securely around Orion, who’s starting to sniffle again at the sight of Chan walking away. He bounces his leg. Babies like that, right? It’s not just his nerves.
Once Chan finally disappears around a corner, Orion twists and looks up at Wonwoo, studying his face for the first time.
“Ah,” he says. “Bad guy.”
Wonwoo blinks down at the boy. “Bad… guy?” He points at himself. “Me?”
Orion nods, the movement exaggerated and slow. “You. Mama cry.”
The words take a moment to reach Wonwoo’s brain. Mostly because he can’t believe them. You’re the one who…
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says anyway. It’s not on the child to deal with your and Wonwoo’s adult problems. Better that he doesn’t know. Better that he never see Wonwoo again, in all honesty. He doesn’t need to know what his parent did to hurt Wonwoo. That he is a product of that hurt.
Orion climbs up and plants his tiny feet on Wonwoo’s legs, then puts one hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder and the other on his head. Softly, he pats Wonwoo’s hair. “Don’t cry,” he says, and only then does Wonwoo realise he must’ve been letting his emotions shine through. Orion balances on Wonwoo’s lap, both hands moving to stretch wide at his sides, like he’s the sun itself. He beams. “We happy!”
Something warms in Wonwoo at the young boy's kindness towards a "bad guy", but then Orion begins to lean backward.
Instinctively, Wonwoo scrambles to wrap both arms around the boy again, lest he fall. In that moment, he sees it.
Your eyes.
But, not your smile.
It’s familiar, but not yours.
No.
Mingyu’s.
prev « masterlist » next
oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @kachren @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @1ntaktak @imhereforfunstuff @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @dorrysstuff @ckline35 @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @sugacookees @royal9 @doodlelibrary @myjaeyunn @yksthings @jundundun @amosmortese @jaeskz @seungmintree @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @capsiclesworld @hellodefthings @sunshineshouchan @calumsfringe @caratinluv @pinkysinnerbaby @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell @wondering-out-loud
#seventeen smau#seventeen social media au#svt smau#svt social media au#wonwoo smau#wonwoo social media au#jeon wonwoo smau#jeon wonwoo social media au#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#svt scenarios#svt imagines#svt x reader#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios
308 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Marriage of Sins
Pairing: Forest Demon!Billy x Demon Hunter!Fem!Reader
Summary: When you hear of a demon living in an abandoned church in the woods, you know you need to investigate. But how could you know that the demon was just your soulmate waiting to marry you?
Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, dub con vibes (there’s no explicit consent given, but they’re soulmates so the reader gives in pretty easily), bondage, religious imagery, spitting, wife kink, praise kink, tiny bit of spanking.
A/N: not extensively proofread so sorry if there’s some mistakes.
My Masterlist
The church was abandoned.
That’s what the nearby villagers had told you. But as you push your shoulder against the dark oak door, light spills out towards you. The candles are lit and there’s a pleasant warmth that spreads through your body, urging you to step further inside.
Despite the vines crawling in through the cracks in the walls and the roots that are beginning to crush some of the pews, the church looks untouched by the world outside.
But there’s a reason why you’re here.
For a demon to inhabit such a sacred place, they must be incredibly powerful.
As you walk down the aisle, there’s a snap of broken glass being crushed beneath someone’s heel. When you turn, knife already in your hand, there’s no one there.
Continuing to venture further into the church, you stop at the altar, examining the contents laid out on the stone table there.
An ornate dagger, a small wooden bowl, two pieces of ribbon - one black, one white - both made of velvet. It looks like some sort of ritual is being prepared.
On a worn piece of paper, an incantation has been written in Latin and you almost make the mistake of reading it aloud. It’s then that you hear a soft chuckle, carried on a light breeze.
Heart pounding, you spin around.
The demon is tall, even as you stand on the slightly raised dais, he towers over you, his shadow creeping towards you as he steps closer.
His dark facial hair is trimmed neatly, his equally dark hair slicked back to reveal the deep brown horns sitting on the top of his head. Darkened eyes eyes roam over your figure as he continues to move towards you.
He raises a brow at the sight of your knife, then he smirks, his tongue tracing over his teeth as he tilts his head at you.
“An unconventional wedding gift, but thank you.”
“Wedding?”
He hums, his brows creasing lightly as he looks you up and down appraisingly. You don’t know why you’re standing still, waiting for his response instead of immediately sending him back to hell.
“What colour’s your underwear?” he asks.
You gape at him.
“What?”
The corner of his mouth twitches as he observes your shocked expression.
“You heard me.”
“That’s none of your business,” you protest.
He nods.
“You see, the prophecy said my wife would be clothed in white.”
Once again, he looks down at you and you follow his gaze. You’re wearing your usual hunting gear, khaki jacket with a black top and trousers, accompanied by your black boots and collection of knives tucked away in various compartments.
“And whilst I really want those fuckers down below to be wrong.” He steps closer, close enough that you could reach out and touch him. “I kinda hope you’re wearing something pretty underneath all that.”
Heart beating wildly in your chest, you attempt to slow down your thoughts. How does he know about your prophecy? You had sworn the seer to secrecy, she had vowed to tell no one about your soulmate - a demon of three sins.
Raising your chin confidently, you attempt to stare him down as you claim,
“You’ll never find out.”
He grins.
Goosebumps spread over your skin and your instincts finally kick in.
His fingers curl tightly around your wrist, the tip of your knife inches from his chest. He cocks his head aside, looking down at you with a smirk.
“This the first time you’ve fought a corporeal demon?”
Narrowing your eyes at him, you growl in frustration as you push harder against his grip with both arms.
“No.”
He breathes out a laugh, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he pushes you backwards. His other hand curls under your elbow, giving him the leverage to hoist you up onto the altar.
Struggling against him, you continue to push the knife towards him with little success. He looks almost disappointed at your feeble attempt.
“I think you’ve forgotten something, demon,” you hiss at him. He raises a brow at you with a bored expression.
“Enlighten me then.”
“You’re in the mortal world, and this is my domain. I have the upper hand here.” You let go of the knife with one hand, calling out the words, “Flamma in manibus.”
Instantly, the flames from the candles dissipate, flooding quickly to gather in the palm of your hand. When he sees the fire blooming in front of him the demon lets go of you, disappearing into thin air.
Stunned, you stare at the empty church for a moment before you push away from the altar, taking a few tentative steps forward. Surely a little fire hadn’t scared such a powerful demon?
Then arms wrap tightly around your body, pulling you back against a firm chest. The flames in your hand extinguish as your arms are pinned down by his hold on you.
“Looking for something?” he purrs against your ear. As his nose traces over the shell of your ear you shiver, his lips hovering above the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “I gotta admit, you’re a smart one.”
As you attempt to tug away from him, his scent fills your senses. Is this demon wearing cologne? With every breath you take, more of his scent sends a burning down your throat that urges you to press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe it in directly from the source.
He smirks.
“You starting to feel it now?” You frown at him. “I’m impressed little bride, most people would be throwing themselves at me by now.”
Blinking in confusion, you turn and meet his dark eyes. When your eyes lock, you can feel the blood flooding down your body, warming your most intimate parts and stealing your ability to think clearly.
“You’re a lust demon.”
He nods with a wicked grin.
“Among other things.” At the sight of confusion filling your eyes he shrugs lightly before he admits, “I have my moments of wrath.”
A shiver runs down your spine. Most demons specialise in only one of the seven sins.
Typically you could sense it as soon as you interacted with them. But with this demon it appeared that physical contact was the only way for you to know what he’s capable of.
The pull towards him is indescribable.
Lust tugs at your body, urging you to turn around in his arms and let him kiss you. His perfect lips would feel divine on your body, his tongue tracing over your skin and his teeth leaving delightfully painful marks in their wake.
Wrath simmers under his skin, you can see the violence hidden in his dark eyes and the firm hold of his hands as his fingers tighten on your body. There’s a beauty in it, the darkness that lurks inside him, and you wonder what it would take to bring it out to play.
Underneath the pull of those two sins, there’s something else. A deep gnawing that settles in your own stomach, a wanting that hurts. The need to be the best, to have everything that you’ve ever wanted. Greed.
The corner of his mouth twitches when he hears you gasp in realisation. A demon of three sins.
“No one ever gets that far,” he muses quietly. “They just see me as a lustful temptation or a devil on their shoulder urging them to act on their darkest thoughts.”
A cool breeze ghosts over your bare stomach, making you notice that he had slowly unbuttoned your shirt. He slides his hand over your stomach, reaching up to cup your breast.
“They don’t see that greed is what really fuels me. The sex and the violence are just means to an end, so I can get whatever it is I want.”
His thumb circles over your nipple that hardens underneath the thin fabric of your bra as he continues,
“Now you’re a stubborn one, I can tell.”
The demon traces his other hand over the waistband of your trousers, tugging occasionally at the material. He clicks his tongue when the fabric doesn’t move to his liking.
“Are you going to tell me what you want?” he asks you. He dips his hand under the waistband of your trousers, running his fingers over your pantie-clad mound.
Sparks of pleasure flood through your wobbling legs and you shake your head at him, even as you whine desperately. He mimics your shaking head mockingly with a pout on his lips before he smiles.
“I think you want me to marry you. I think you wanna belong to me. Want to tie our souls together.”
His lips press a long line of kisses from the shell of your right down to the nape of your neck. With each brush of his lips, pleasure sinks into your body, your mind growing hazy from his words and his touch.
“I think you want me to fuck you over this altar. Make you mine. Stain your soul with my cock.”
A whimper leaves your lips as he slides your jacket and shirt down, dropping them onto the cold stone floor. His hand in your trousers still doesn’t move and a shuddering breath leaves your lips as you rock your hips forwards.
“I think you want to be my wife, hm?”
“What- what about you?”
He blinks at you in confusion, a small frown creasing at his brows at the sight of you looking so uncertain. Despite the flood of arousal and wanting you’re feeling, self consciousness stops you from giving yourself over to him.
“Do you want to be my husband?” you ask, almost shyly.
His eyes darken and in an instant his lips are meeting yours in a fierce kiss. Fingers curling over the back of your neck, he spins you around and hoists you up onto the altar.
A gasp falls from your lips at the chill of the stone surface against your bare thighs. He must have dematerialised your trousers at some point, though that fades away as he continues to kiss you.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans lowly. “Yes I wanna be your husband.”
Tugging at his dark clothing, you whine when it doesn’t budge and he chuckles. You blink once and by the time your eyes are open again his clothes are gone.
As your jaw drops at the sight of him, all lean muscle and scars, he takes the opportunity to tilt your head back, spitting onto your tongue. Shock prickles over your body as you moan wantonly. He grins as you swallow eagerly.
Stepping between your parted thighs, he reaches around your body with both hands, searching for the clasp of your bra. He finds it easily, but instead of undoing it, he rips it in half before tugging at the material and dropping it to the floor.
He dips his head down, tongue flattening over your hardened nipple before he takes it lightly between his teeth.
Arching into his mouth, you gasp and whimper as his hand provides your other breast with an equal amount of attention. The pads of his fingers are calloused and they prickle delightfully over your sensitive skin.
At first you grip onto the hard stone beneath you, but then you sink a hand into his hair which makes him groan. Encouraged by his reaction, you seize a tight fistful of his dark locks.
When your nails accidentally scratch one of his horns he growls deeply, tilting his head back to look up at you. The look in his eyes makes your whole body want to melt into a puddle, allowing him to reshape you into whatever he wants.
His lips move back up, trailing a line of harsh kisses over your throat.
“Well they were right,” he breathes against your lips before he kisses you firmly. “You were wearing white.”
Blinking, you look down at your torn white bra and the soaked white panties that are clinging to the wet lips of your cunt. He slides your panties delicately down your legs, pressing kisses to whatever part of you is closest.
His thumb circles your clit slowly and you whine loudly at the bare minimum you’re being granted. When you try to grasp his wrist as swats your hand away and his obsidian eyes flash with danger.
“Patience,” he warns you, and you can’t help but tease,
“I thought patience was a virtue?”
He growls.
Your knees land on the altar as he turns you around, your cheek pressing against the cool polished stone and you breathe in sharply as his cock presses against your sopping entrance.
He slaps your ass and you whimper, giving his restraint the final push.
He groans loudly as he pushes inside you, and your hands scramble for purchase, nails scratching against the stone as the sensation of him filling you so thoroughly overtakes your senses.
Once he’s all the way inside, he breathes out harshly, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades. He picks up the black ribbon from beside you, using it to tie your hands in front of you.
He runs his hands soothingly over your shoulders, massaging gently before he uses his weight to pin you beneath him. Then he begins to fuck you.
Hands bound, body bent into the position of his choosing, you can do nothing but accept the pleasure he’s giving you. He swipes his thumb over your clit, and you clench hard around him as the head of his cock knocks against that spot deep inside you.
As you begin to near the edge of your climax, he speeds up and soon you’re squeezing tightly around his cock as your orgasm hits you. Tension fills your muscles as you clench with a groan, the aftershocks pushing your body through a violent wave of pleasure.
He growls lowly, gritting his teeth and taking even breaths as you twitch beneath him, feeling stunned from your sudden high.
When you finally relax, your muscles loosening with pleasure, he pulls out of you. Before you can protest, he’s turning you around to lie on your back with your bound hands resting on your stomach.
Then he picks up the white ribbon.
“You think you can manage a few knots?”
You blink at him, still dazed with pleasure. Then you realise.
You’re getting married.
The black ribbon currently tied expertly around your wrists represents his soul. The ribbon that he’s holding now represents yours. A pure, delicate white.
The aftershocks of your orgasm make your shake and you struggle slightly with the ribbon as you tie his wrists together with a little slack between them. He grins, using his bound hands to position his cock against your cunt for the second time.
He’s slower this time, urging you to take him into your body with a surprising amount of intimacy. He takes your face between both of his hands and you can feel the ribbon that binds his hands together as it brushes against the back of your neck.
His forehead presses against yours, allowing the two of you to share long kisses that steal your breath away as he rocks inside you. Rolling your hips against his, you hear him inhale sharply before he’s thrusting harder.
Soon, you’re both moaning desperately into the kisses. Your bound hands smooth up his chest, taking his chin between your fingers. The scratch of his stubble prickles over your fingertips.
He groans loudly as he feels you clenching rapidly around his cock and praise spills from his lips, making your head fuzzy with warmth.
“Such a good little wife, with a gorgeous little cunt. You’re gonna let me cum in you, aren’t you? Gonna let me fill my wife up.”
“Yes,” you breathe out against his lips. Then he slams his hips down hard. “Yes,” you cry into the empty church. “Yes please.”
“Fuck,” he moans. Your nails dig into his hips, scratching lightly as you try to ground yourself. But pleasure is already sweeping its way through your body, lighting every nerve on fire.
Legs shaking constantly, you gasp against his lips as he kisses you.
“Let go, little bride. Let me marry you properly. Give me another orgasm, you feel so good when you cum.”
Squeezing your eyes shut, stars bloom over your closed eyelids as your hips jerk wildly. Then you climax hard around his cock. A long stream of moans escape from your worn throat, as your cunt spasms frantically.
With a few more thrusts, you’re dizzy with pleasure and he spills inside you. He rolls his hips as he rides out his high, only stopping when your whimpers become too loud and your hands nudge him away.
Withdrawing his hands from you, he reaches down to untie the ribbon around your wrists. He breathes out a chuckle at the dazed look in your eyes, and he guides your fingers towards the loose end of his own bindings.
Still dealing with the toll taken on your body, a few weak tugs is all you can manage, but soon enough the white ribbon falls to the floor alongside the black.
He runs his freed hands over your wrists, easing any discomfort caused with a gentle brush over his palm. A kiss is pressed against your damp forehead, before he rocks his hips forward.
Tensing suddenly, you stare at him with widened eyes. Then he pulls out slowly and a confusing mixture of relief and sadness fills you, but you don’t have the energy to analyse your reaction.
He traces his fingers through your folds, pushing his thick spend back inside you. Heart still pounding in your chest, you almost don’t hear him as he says,
“My name’s Billy by the way.”
Between shuddering breaths, you manage a small laugh before you tell him your own name. He smiles widely, licking his finger clean as he looks down at you.
Billy murmurs your name softly, attracting your attention. As he leans closer, you thread a hand through his hair, then stroke a single fingertip against one of his horns.
He shivers.
Then he reaches for you, tracing his fingers gently over your cheek.
“My beautiful little wife.”
»»---------------------►
marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch
Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @chickensarentcheap @stardustmorozov @sweetwritingfanficfriend @witchcraftandwit @ladyofsoa
BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#demon!billy russo#billy russo x female reader#billy russo x y/n#billy russo x you#billy russo imagine#billy russo the punisher#the punisher au#billy russo smut#billy russo moodboard
623 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ghost X fem!reader after wisdom teeth removal
A/n:sorry its kinda short i was running out of ideas
Warnings: light swearing, mentions of anesthetics and dried blood
Summary: reader gets wisdom teeth removed (procedure not described), tooth rotting fluff
On the drive to the Hospital he keeps checking in on you like a concerned mom. "Darling are you sure your okay? You know we could probably re-schedule or-"
"Si l'm fine lets just get it over with." You replied reassuringly with a soft smile. He feels more at ease seeing how emotionally prepared you are for this. Once you get taken away by the nurses he anxiously waits in the waiting room for you subtly figedting with his hands the whole time.
A few hours later he spots a nurse guiding your drowsy form over to him. He stands up in an instant and starts making his way over to you, relieved to see his baby all giggly from the anesthetics.
"How'd she do?" He asks automatically, gently taking you from the nurse and propping you up with his strong arm.
'The Oral Surgeon said she did great." She replied with a chipper tone handing simon the aftercare packet with more gauze and some care instructions, before making her way to another room with a nod of farewell.
Simon takes his hand and gives yours a light squueze signifying how proud he is of you. "You did so good darling l'm so proud of you."
You tiredly hum in response and he chuckles as the two of you make your way back to the car. After getting you buckled and comftrable in the passenger seat he examines your face to find some dried blood on your bottom lip and your face beginning to swell. He softly smiles under his balaclava and caresses your cheek with his index finger before placing a light kiss to your forehead.
He makes his way to the drivers seat and during the drive back he holds your hand the whole way home as he listens to you quietly ramble. Upon arrival to your shared home you attempt to assert your independence by getting up yourself but its very short lived to say the least.
"Darling what the fuck are you doing?" He sighed.
"I'm getting out of this car." You slurred over your words. He quickly got out of the car and carried you inside bridal style. Once inside he carefully set you down on the couch and got you settled before grabbing you an ice pack for your swollen mouth.
After a few hours pass you're allowed to eat soft foods and he warms you up some soup.
'Thank you." You say trying to ignore the throbbing pain all over your jaw now that the anesthetics have worn off. "Si?" You question.
"Yes love?"
"Could you grab me some Advil or Tylenol please?"
"I'll do you one better and grab you both." He says getting up to grab you medicine and a glass of water with a straw. He comes back in less than a minute and you quickly take to medicine in hopes to ease the pain.
About an hour passes by and your leaning into Simon for comfort as fatigue slowly takes over Your soup bowl long forgotten on the coffee table as you drift off in your boyfriends arms.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#cod mw ghost#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost riley x reader#fluff#task force 141#cod 141
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
Butterflies
Aonung and reader have major tension.
Pairings: Aonung x reader
Warnings: sexual content, p in v, slight dom/sub,
** side note ! Aonung and reader are aged up to 18
Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Aonungs hands grip your hips and pin you against a tree that was at the end of the beach. He stared down at you intensely and you watched his eyes examine your whole face, “Aonung you can’t keep doing this, we could get caught” you sighed annoyed and rolled your eyes.
He smirks a little and moves closer to your face “but isn’t that part of the fun y/n?” he purred a little. Your face lit up and you bit your bottom lip, as your hands squeeze his forearms. You were very close to Aonung and grew up together as kids, as you gotten older you grew feelings for him and you two teased each other constantly which built up tension.
He grabs your hand and smiles down at you causing the stupid butterflies in your stomach, “come on I want to take you somewhere” and you hold his hand back following his lead. He takes you to a small cozy hut that was hidden away in the island but was still in great condition.
You could feel the energy change when the two of you settle in and you watched him, your tail swinging in anticipation. He sits himself on a big white chair that was placed in the corner of the hut and shamelessly looked you over. He beckons you over with two fingers and you walked over, your legs feeling like jello.
You straddle him on the chair, your arms going over his shoulders and his arms circled around your waist. “Aonung I really like you” you whisper and he cockily smirks “I know Y/N” but that smirk goes away when you lean down and kiss him deeply. You two had kissed before but this kiss was different, your tongues battle each other and you share a string of saliva when you pull away.
His eyes had almost turned black from the hunger and he moves his arms from your waist to down under your ass and he picks you up effortlessly, causing a giggle to leave your mouth. He lays you down on the slightly worn couch that was in the hut and hovered over you, his hands remove your woven top and you smile when you see his eyes stare at your chest. “Like what you see?” You snip at him and he doesn’t respond instead leaning down and wrapping his mouth around your nipple as his free hand kneads the other breast. You moan and rut your hips against his as you grip his locs, he grazes his teeth against your nipple and that causes a whimper from you.
He moves away from your chest and kisses you before kissing down your sternum to your lower stomach as his hands rest on the piece of cloth that kept you covered. His eyes stare up at you “can I take this off?” He asks and you nod “please do” you didn’t care how desperate you sounded. His fingers quickly throw the cloth against the room and he pushed your legs to your chest exposing you to him, “keep your legs up” he demands. He flattens his tongue against your cunt greedily and sucks on your clit, “oh Aonung” you whimper his hands stayed on your ass cheeks as he devours you. His eyes watch your face as he curls a finger inside you and watches as you roll your eyes to the back of your head.
“Aonung I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop” you stammer and he hums and groans against your cunt causing a vibration throughout your body. He gives your cunt a kiss before he comes up and kisses you deeply again, “you taste better than I ever thought you would” he groans and you see how shiny his chin is. You push him off eagerly and get down to your knees, looking up at him before you remove his cloth. Your eyes widen slightly when you see his cock, it was lengthy and had a good amount of girth, “already having stage fright Princess?” He teases and that nickname causes you to close your thighs shut, you wrap your hand around the base before you give him one long lick from the tip to the base tasting the saltiness. He growled slightly “fuck y/n”, you tease him a couple more times before you wrap your lips around his cock and move your head down.
His hands grip your hair out of the way and he watched you as you eagerly suck him off, watching at how your thighs kept rubbing against each other. You hum against his cock and move a hand down to knead his balls this causes his thighs to twitch, “I’m going to ruin you” he groans darkly as he grabs your head and fucks your throat a couple times, you gasp loudly when he pulls you away from him trying to get some air again. He man handles you off the floor again and sets you in his lap, he kisses at your neck and bites down leaving a couple hickeys.
Your hips start grinding against his fast as you felt him mark up your neck and shoulders, you were embarrassingly wet and could hear it. “Fuck Aonung please” you whine when the pressure between your legs kept getting to strong, he wraps a hand around your throat and smirks “you’ve been waiting for this huh?” His free hand gripping his cock as he rubs it against your cunt teasing it. You huff “don’t act like you also haven’t waited for this” you bite back, the both of you moan when the tip enters inside you and his hand slaps your ass cheek, he gives you a minute to adjust and he kisses your jaw and ear to soothe you.
Once you are adjusted, you throw your arms over his shoulders and move your hips up and down taking more of him inside you, “fuck you are so tight” he growls and you whimper once he fully seathes himself inside. You both start bouncing and thrusting and his tip hit your spot each time making you almost yell, “fuck fuck fuck” you chant as you hear the sounds of your cunt sucking him In and his balls slapping against your skin. He sucks on your nipples as he grabs both of your hands and pins them on your lower back and continues with his rough thrusting and you swore you saw the stars, “look at my Princess, going all cock dumb on me” you squeezed your cunt and he groaned again.
You feel your lower belly heat up as your cunt started throbbing uncontrollably, “I’m gonna cum!” You moan loudly and he growls in your ear “cum on this dick Princess, after this all you can think about is this” he hits your spot one more time and that makes you go over the edge. You squirt all over his stomach and legs and you whimper loudly, your legs shaking and he groans before he cums inside you. The two of just lay against each other as you catch your breaths, Aonung grabs your head gently and he kisses you passionately, “that was amazing” he breathes and you smile at him “we should have done that sooner” you tease.
The both of you take a nap together in the hut and officially become a couple after that night. The others cheered finally seeing you together.
621 notes
·
View notes
Text
Construction Crew Recruitment
Sam was ambitious: his dream was to play soccer professionally. Though he sat the bench most games, he always showed up hours early to warm up. He was determined to finally prove his worth to the university.
"Hey, kid!" rang a scratchy voice.
Sam's focus was broken, and he noticed how much he had sweat through his jersey. The soccer player identified a burly figure lumbering toward him, tearing up the turf with steel-toe boots. Judging from the flannel on his shoulders and the orange helmet in his grip, he was just some construction worker.
"What's up?" Sam warily called back.
"Looks like you're pushin' yourself pretty hard out there," the stranger belched, blowing his bad breath towards the athlete, "Wanted to introduce myself. I'm the contractor fer' the site 'cross the street."
He extended a calloused hand, but Sam hesitated to shake it.
"Too good to shake my hand, kid?" a grin of yellow teeth spread across the scruffy face, "That'll change. Here. Catch!"
The stranger carelessly tossed the hardhat to Sam. The athletes reflexes kicked in, and he dropped his soccer ball to catch the helmet.
"What's this for?" he couldn't help but examine the thing, studying all the scratches and dirt it had accrued over the years.
"For you, kid. Your new hardhat."
Sam chuckled at the word 'new.' This thing looked ancient. The thick dust that covered it was quickly transferring to his sweaty palms, but he couldn't let go. His hands felt like they were cramping, gripping the helmet tighter and tighter until it was almost painful.
"What's happening?" Sam winced.
The contractor just crossed his arms and leaned back like he was about to see a show.
Meanwhile, Sam was starting to breath harder. He'd worked up a sweat while kicking the ball around, but he suddenly felt hot. His jersey and shorts were getting thicker and itcher. He took a step away, but he almost tripped over his cleats as they grew heavier.
When Sam whipped back to the stranger, the guy was chuckling amusedly at him.
"Trust me kid," he cackled, "You wouldn't have gotten far kickin' balls. Soccer's for pansies."
Sam was too lightheaded to be offended. He would have collapsed, but the same cramp that clamped his fingers around the helmet was spreading through his body, locking his knees upright and arching his back.
His whole body was becoming more and more uncomfortable. Somehow, the material of his short-sleeve jersey felt like it stretched the full length of his arms. His legs felt the same restrictions as dense pants tumbled down and tightened. Sam's already sweaty body just became more damp and humid beneath his increasingly insulated clothes.
"You're lookin' a bit better, kid," the contractor muttered as he lit a cigarette, "Don't forget your tools now. You're gonna need 'em."
Sam had no clue what the guy was saying. He had a match to play. He didn't have tools, but a sudden pressure at his waist said otherwise.
Glancing down, he noticed a leather belt tightening around his heavy pants. He could have sworn he wasn't wearing jeans earlier. Worn leather pouches dropped from the utility belt, carrying tools he'd never used.
With his gaze downward, he noticed his soccer cleats were different too. They were clunky old boots, caked with mud and who knows what else. Sam was hyperventilating at the sight of himself. He just couldn't understand what was happening to him.
"Put it on."
"What?"
"Put on your helmet," he replied, calmly blowing smoke in Sam's face, "It'll finish it."
The soccer player didn't want to put it on. His mind was already halfway brainwashed, but he knew he didn't want to see what happened when this guy was done with him.
His hands betrayed him.
The tendons on the back of his palms strained as he gripped the hat, and his arm strained as they raised it towards his head.
"Please, no..." was all he could gasp as he brought the orange helmet down on his head.
It reeked of sweaty hair and pinched tightly. It was just as uncomfortable as everything else he now had on. The thing felt like it was going to constrict his skull until it reached the center of his head.
Then suddenly, all the discomfort faded.
Sam let out a sigh of relief, chuckling at the overwhelming sense of relief. He lifted his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, surprised by the dirty work glove he had on.
"How you feelin', kid?" he heard the contractor grunt.
"Finne," he quickly replied, "What happened?"
"What do you mean, 'what happened?' you're waistin' my is what's happenin'. Get back to work before I fire your butt."
"My bad."
Sam glanced down at himself. The work clothes he had on felt right. He always wore denim and hi-vis. He was a construction worker after all.
The new hire stomped off the field with his boss, barely noticing the soccer ball he left behind.
"See that big ole' pile of rubble? I want it moved off-site by the end of the day," his boss told him between puffs.
"You got!" Sam grunted and grabbed the wheel barrel.
His old teammates began rolling up for their soccer game. They found Sam's ball but no sign of the teammate. They didn't think to check the construction site across the street. That's where Sam was during the entire game, occasionally glancing over to the match as he shoveled demolished bricks and moved them across the site.
The college game seemed eerily familiar to Sam, but he couldn't think why. He'd dropped out of high school years ago. He thanked God for this job. The contractor was like a father to him, and Sam was happy doing grunt work for the guy for the rest of his life. He knew soccer was for a bunch of pansies anyway.
Eventually, the game ended and Sam forgot completely about sport. The rest of the construction crew showed up, and Sam gratefully did whatever task they asked of him. The majority of them just smoked and stood around, joking with the contractor.
They seemed to be laughing in his direction,but he didn't mind. He was eager to prove just how useful he could be to them. He might be a simple laborer, but he was determined to be the best one there.
354 notes
·
View notes
Text
'Cause I'd Rather Feel Pain Than Nothing at All
Pairing: Rick Flag x GN!Reader
Summary: Inspired by the Three Days Grace song of the same name, this is an angsty little drabble that has been sitting in my drafts for a few months.
Word Count: 829
Warnings: Description of injury, angst
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Despite your clenched jaw, the lie slips out easily. Still, you avoid eye contact with Rick as he examines your bruised and swollen hand; his uncanny ability to read your emotions won’t serve you well right now. If he thinks for one minute that you’re badly injured, you’ll wind up on desk duty faster than you can say Bloodsport. That is, if either of you make it out of here alive.
“Really?” The word stretches out into the darkness, filling what little space there is between you. “Because it looks pretty damn bad to me.”
With so much cynicism lacing the colonel’s tone, your eyes involuntarily flicker upwards, landing on his familiar worry-worn face, illuminated as it is by the weak orange glow of your twin torches. Shadows dance across his battle-scarred features, eerily emphasising all his sharp curves and edges – a Picasso painting brought to life, albeit temporarily.
Thanks to the explosion rocking the building only minutes earlier, the two of you are trapped in what had once been the ground-floor comms-room, a mountain of rubble outside the door now separating you - somewhat ironically - from your squad of deadly prisoners. Those prisoners are undoubtedly enjoying their fleeting moment of freedom at your expense. If this situation doesn’t kill you, Amanda Waller surely will.
“Really. It’s probably just a sprain.” You tap the cracked GPS device somehow still strapped to your injured wrist and send out a silent prayer that Harley and the others will try to find you. And soon. Much like your ongoing attempt to convince Rick that you’re ok, the signal -- and your hope -- is weak.
The second lie draws Rick’s attention away from your hand, his hazel eyes finding you effortlessly even in the darkness. You quickly subvert your own gaze from the sweat beading across his filthy brow. It’s unfair that in such rotten conditions he still manages to look handsome.
“Let’s leave the diagnosis to the doctors, huh?” Calloused fingers brush across your knuckles. While it’s the ghost of a touch, you still find yourself gritting your teeth against the pain. Something is almost certainly fractured, but your hand is far from the only part of you that is wounded in Rick’s presence.
“If you say so.”
Spite tempts you to point out that hospitals and doctors seem like a distant fantasy when the pair of you might be lost down here forever. After all, any potential rescue attempt rides solely on Harley’s twisted moral compass. Between the two of you, have you shown her enough kindness? Perhaps she’ll leave you here to rot – and who could blame her?
But Rick is an optimist; he sees the good in people while you only see all the ways they can let you down. The colonel is no exception.
Careful not to jostle your hurting wrist, you snatch up one of the torches and aim the beam towards the door. The force of the fallen debris from the floors above has warped the metal in such a fashion that nothing short of another explosion is likely to free it from the frame. And you’re fresh out of nitro.
“Where was your head at?” Rick’s deep voice shatters the cloying silence descending over the room.
“Huh?” For the briefest of moments, you’d forgotten he was here. No easy feat considering his proximity, propped up beside you against the wall.
“Exactly. You’re somewhere else today. Distracted.”
He could be referring to any number of events: how you almost missed wheels-up because you couldn’t drag yourself out of bed; how you forget to check-out Harley’s weapons cache, leading to a meltdown of epic proportions from the princess of crime; how easily the guards got the drop on you.
Rick presses on. “You can talk to me, you know. If something is bothering you-”
“I’m fine.” You cut him off decidedly, your tone leaving no room for argument.
Fine…
Has anyone ever said that four letter word and truly meant it?
From the flash of his eyes, it’s clear Rick doesn’t believe you.
You want to tell him the truth. You want to tell him that yes, your hand might be bad, but you’ve experienced far worse. That the pain you carry around with you every day has dulled your other senses, so much so that a knife to the gut would probably hurt less. But you don’t. Instead, ignoring the familiar and constant hurt throbbing deep in the cavern of your chest, you subtly shuffle away from him.
All things considered, the pain of your injury is a welcome relief, allowing you to focus on something other than the truth.
Because Rick Flag broke your heart without even knowing it. And now you’re stuck here beside him, waiting for almost inevitable death together in this dank, dark room.
Perhaps this was how it was always meant to be.
Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @babblydrabbly @heresathreebee @phoenixhalliwell @weallhaveadestiny @lavenderluna10 @immyownlittlebitch @katjnordstrom96 @kirsteng42 @littlefreakingfangirl @s-u-t @xoxabs88xox @lacontroller1991 @mayhem24-7forever
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
— forget me not . kaeya x reader
synopsis . you loved him, and you thought he loved you too. you had to pay for your ignorance. [concept from @/o1kawasgirlfriends on tiktok]
warnings . angst !! i use a lot of rhetorical device stuff idk. arguments (kaeya and reader), one-sided relationship, kaeya is manipulative, little bit of gore-type descriptions towards the end, barely proofread, idk if i characterized anyone properly lol
notes . umm i was going thru my google drive for school thingies and ended up finding this from so long ago n i was wondering why it sounded so unfamiliar . realized i nvr posted it 😭
the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered.
perhaps, the reason your chest felt so light was because you had placed the heart of clay once encased within your body into caramel hands. your heart, carved and sculpted to perfection by those who sat in celestia, had been put in the care of another.
how foolish.
and yet, you played with the idea. enjoyed it, even. the cotton in your ribcage began to feel familiar, warm, and you loved it. you loved the fuzzy sensation that blossomed when you caught a glance. you loved the grins that were smudged onto your face because of a man who had no cares and all the cares in the world. you adored it. and thus, you craved.
kaeya alberich. a name that rolled off of your tongue so gracefully, dripping off of the edge of your own chapped lips. a name that you called every so often, what with your position in mondstadt’s knights of favonius.
the concept that was once dreadful morphed into something you now deemed funny. you, an aspiring knight, wished only to protect your city. and instead, you had fallen for the man who was to help you reach that goal. stupid, stupid, stupid.
sword clashed against sword, the ring of metal echoing amongst the courtyard. there was no malice nor hatred laced in the slashes, no. there was adrenaline. excitement. energy. you could not say you loathed the one you were battling with, for he was the one that made your chest flutter and your teeth rot. adolescent grins were carved onto each of your faces, euphoria spilling through the cracks in your teeth. a sword clash that was not one of war or death or anger. in this moment, you couldn’t feel stupid. you could only feel ecstatic. joyful, even, as your blade knocked over his, and his eyes widened with both shock and pride.
“i’ve trained you well,” he spoke between heavy breaths. you watched as he walked over to pick up his sword, examining the worn hilt and the scratches painted across the metal. “excellent job.”
a mere hum escaped your lips, cracked and burning, as you lay on the floor. the cold stone was refreshing against your skin.
above you, a singular eye that reeked of crushed blueberries and ocean waves stared down. kaeya let out a gloved hand to assist you, pulling you up from the ground. “you can go home now. rest up. we have work tomorrow.” the words were soft to the ears, and you could’ve sworn the small grin on your face grew thrice.
kaeya sat in his office, waiting for you to bring him his coffee for the morning as usual. however, when you stepped in, you wore an expression of slight uncertainty, playing it off with a nervous smile. “sorry. i didn’t know which drink you wanted, so i got green tea, since i heard from lisa that it’s good to have in the earlier hours of the day.”
the man furrowed his brow at the cup. the green liquid that sat peacefully inside the porcelain seemed mocking, almost. “now, i thought you knew i prefer earl gray? you’ve always been good at keeping these things in that pretty little head of yours.”
“ah, i must’ve forgotten — apologies. i’ll do better next time.” kaeya dismissed the apology, staring down at the drink confusedly. the soft green was a great contrast to the obsidian black he was used to. he chose to ignore it for now, sipping at the drink absentmindedly.
you carried on with the morning, dropping off papers for your captain to finish and greeting the other knights. kaeya did the same, sitting at his desk and scribbling away with his favorite pen. and yet, the interaction continued to linger at the back of his head, itching at his skull endlessly.
odd.
you watched as jean dismissed herself from the building. the eyebags scribed onto her features were prominent, yet familiar. you pitied her for the stress placed atop her shoulders.
the halls of the headquarters were now silent. however, through the wooden door, you could hear the rough scratches of pen against paper, the sound seemingly louder than the hum of air around you.
this had become routine. kaeya would drop you off at your house once he finished his paperwork, wish you farewell, and make his merry way over to the tavern. you found comfort in the way he complained about work on the way back ( despite this, he never thought twice about quitting his job ) and how he would question you about your day right before reaching your doorstep. he held a tone towards you that was akin to honey, to dandelion kisses that you would constantly indulge in. unbeknownst to him ( or maybe he did know, after all ), he had you wrapped around his finger with every glance, every word.
both of you approached the door, your hands reaching for your keys. kaeya prepared to turn around, only for your grip to reach the end of his sleeve.
“...please stay.”
the aloof smirk on his face melted into a softer smile. “anything for you, dearest.” he stepped through the doorway, his boots clicking against the wooden floorboards.
kaeya welcomed himself onto your couch, motioning for you to sit beside you. “so,” he muttered. “what’s making you crave my presence?”
“i don’t know.” the response elicited a chuckle out of him. “... ‘m not sure. there’s something comforting and warm about talking to you. i can’t place it.”
your voice was soft, something he relished ever so slightly. he knew exactly what you were saying. it was a shame you didn’t.
and it was a shame he didn’t feel the same.
either way, he chose to succumb to your personal fantasies, feeding into them slowly and tantalizingly. “i may feel the same way.”
for your sake, he told himself.
there was a silence. sickening and dreadful. it gnawed at you, sculpting away at your limbs as you stared at the wall in front of you. “pardon?” your voice reeked of hesitance. his
confession felt ethereal, misplaced. despite the hint of wariness, you followed the hums of the sirens.
“did i not speak clearly enough?”
you gulped, face igniting with flames that even the most violent of ocean waves couldn’t quell. of course, you heard him perfectly. you just couldn’t quite process it. months of pining and obsessing over a man you were supposed to only know as a superior in the knights led up to this very moment spent on the cushions of your couch.
the moonlight that bled through the curtains illuminated his face, however, you still couldn’t place just what was swimming in his eyes. there was no genuineness. but there weren’t any hints of foul play.
and so, you fell into his hands once more.
kaeya seemed to be at his wit’s end lately. and unfortunately, you seemed to be the cause of it.
the crows of the evening invaded your window sill as your supposed lover stood across from you, his brow furrowed intensely as he struck you with his gaze. sharp and cold. the same way he stared at his enemies, those who he despised. maybe, if you waited for the rain to come, for the droplets to wash over the sorrowful earth, it would rid the sour expression on his face. however, rain showers didn’t come in the summer, and instead you would have to deal with the beatings of the sun as it melted the golden melodies you held onto so dearly.
“what do you mean you forgot about it?” venom dripped from his tongue so quickly, slowly forming a stream, a waterfall of white hot anger bleeding through the cracks in his teeth.
“i’m sorry, i-“
“are you, though?”
were you?
it was equally shocking to you. at least, it was once he brought it up. you had promised
to care for kaeya so dearly, and that came with remembering events that were important to him. so why was it that you made other plans today, of all days?
he shifted his stance, transferring his weight to his opposite leg. “he died today. and you forgot,” he took a step towards you. “how dare you?”
there was nothing for you to hold onto as you suffered through kaeya’s wrath, merely
watching as he spiraled into his long forgotten hole of pain and guilt and hatred. what could you do, anyways? he would swat your hand away again. remind you that he didn’t need to rely on you constantly. that he was his own person, and he didn’t need you hovering over him like a mother.
he ran a hand through his hair, the ribbon that held it in the day falling loose. an apology slipped from his lips, watered and broken. before you could reply, he escaped into the depths of night, clicking the front door softly. a rumble grew in your ribcage as guilt crawled up your spine carefully. so, so carefully. you doubt you ever even felt it.
the bedroom door creaked open. yellow rays, soft and gentle, barely there, fell from the crack between the wood and the doorway, and along with them came the man you could barely place. without a word, he made his way into the bathroom, leaving behind no trace. something he did so often, too often.
his arrival caused the book in your lap to fall. you clasped your hands together as you waited. how long were you willing to sit still, to hold for him as he moved as fast or slow as he wanted to?
kaeya slumped onto the bed, his back facing you once more as he propped his elbows on his knees. no words were spoken. the clock ticks and the gentle breezes said everything instead.
just as quickly as he sat, he collapsed into the spot beside you, his legs dangling off of the edge. a singular eye burned into the ceiling, writing scripts that couldn’t be deciphered by even teyvat’s top scholars. a mystery. just as you’d known him to be. just what you’d admired.
the path, eventually, circled back to you, in your mildly bewildered state. scrambled arpeggios flooded the room, the yellow light banished to the hallway as you both basked in the darkness. it was so sickeningly calming. almost as if you hadn’t just pissed him off.
your hands sneaked away from one another, remnants of sweat left on your palms. you didn’t want to look at him. but you did. his eye reeled you in so tenderly. it was far too tempting. and so, you stared, you drunk in every bit of eye contact he spared you, every second spent of silent gazes. you relished in it. and you loved it.
kaeya sighed, lifting himself up from his spot and burying himself beneath the blankets, handing you the wondrous sight of his back for the umpteenth time. vermillion flames of sorrow engulfed your being as you hoped for just a few more seconds, he would give you his face instead.
the bed bore a familiar coldness that the pile of blankets and pillows couldn’t dare rival. sunlit dust filtered in through the window, cascading onto your skin as the sun crawled onto the horizon. this time, the ceiling was barren. empty. the writings kaeya bore into the wood just last night had been erased, gone.
or were they?
perhaps it was your eyes playing tricks on you. your lips parted as you searched through your head for the memory of his gaze, locked onto your own, only to end up with nothing. the image seemed to have slipped from your grasp, sinking through the lines in your fingers.
you needed answers — but unfortunately, work always came first.
the paperwork in front of you was long forgotten, what with the ghouls scratching at your mind and your head resting deep in your hands. your leg shook beneath the desk violently. and at just the right second, a hurried alchemist stepped through the door.
“i’m here to collect a few papers, but,” he spoke, catching his breath — presumably from running from the lab where timaeus and sucrose worked to the knights’ headquarters. “are you alright? you look as if you’re in a state of distress - not from your work.” he held a look of concern that was, surprisingly, genuine.
you cleared your throat, letting your arms rest on your lap. “ah, well... it seems i’ve forgotten about him. pieces of him, i mean. it’s quite frightening.”
albedo closed the door behind him softly to give you both some privacy. “really? how often does this happen?”
“...a little too often,” you spoke, giggling softly in an attempt to lighten the mood. however, it was clear that the sound was strained. “i don’t know. he’s slipping from my memory.” the man nodded, lips parting to speak whatever conclusion he came to.
“hm. this is quite a rare case — but existent nonetheless,” he began, leaning against the wall as he started to ramble on. “the name escapes me, but it’s a sickness in which a person who faces one sided love begins to slowly forget about the one they admire. a phenomenon, really. it’ll start off with smaller things such as favorite colors or their birthday, but it quickly evolves into much larger memories like special events or anniversaries. through this process, the victim’s heart begins to deteriorate and rot slowly. as of now, there’s a cure, but no one’s sure if it’s that safe, considering how infrequent this is.” albedo snapped out of his trance of words as he looks back towards you, only to see your lip quivering as dews start spilling from your eyes. “…ah, i didn’t mean to scare you in any way... i’ll take my leave now.” however, before he could open the door, your hand stopped him, grasping desperately onto the end of his sleeve.
“you know how to treat me, don’t you?” he nodded slowly. “please. i could care less about the consequences.”
a hum left his mouth before he left with a single word, “understood.”
if you didn’t continue on with this parade of white hot sorrows, you might as well drown.
the porcelain walls confined you with your thoughts. with your ashen knees bent up to your chest, scrunched up hands buried beneath the water, you’d laugh at just how pitiful you looked. there was a ticking in your skull. it was due to end, to explode if you didn’t get an answer. then again, would there truly be any honest answer? even albedo’s scientific concoctions couldn’t dare get a truthful word out of kaeya in this situation, absolutely not. he was a man of secrets, and frankly, you fell into his trap. the nights replayed in and out on your bed, the book on your lap long forgotten as you stared at your lover’s plastic back. the pages were tainted. stained. all because you were slowly losing memory of his face, constructed of caramel blessings and dulcet poetry. you could not scribble it on paper, nor explain it, nor conjure it up in the confines of your imagination.
perhaps this was a bad dream. a bad dream where his face had been ripped and scratched and marred beyond words. you couldn’t dare face it. couldn’t dare accept it.
and, even through the blemishes of your eyes, you admired him. through the white lines, you adored him, loved him, cherished him.
how stupid.
you had come around full circle. the water in the tub had gone lukewarm from just how long you were sitting and staring, drumming your fingers against the stone of the bath to an unnamed rhythm of disarray. you were not the most religious of people, however, you prayed to whatever god heard you first that he could hear your melancholic symphonies just as well. unfortunately, that much was humanly impossible, for the distance from the house to the tavern was simply too great. he wouldn’t care to listen, wouldn’t tune in to hear a mere note. so you had to deal with your raptures alone. in your tub. as always.
three months had, apparently, been enough time.
however, three months was nothing compared to the five years you spent suffering with kaeya alberich. the cause of your downfall.
you couldn’t remember when it happened, where it happened - but all you knew was that the man who supposedly lived with you loathed you beyond description. there was a fierce stare in his eyes. you oblivious to where it sprouted from, merely observing as he prodded at your bones with a gaze of steel.
eventually, you could barely recognize he was there.
the man in blue had molded his anger into despair. you no longer found yourself victim to his stares, to his stabs. he was looking everywhere but you. and you didn’t know why.
the day you snapped was the day you had been banished from the home completely.
his voice was distant, however, you picked up on tidbits as he explained the situation to albedo, the chief alchemist who worked down in the city. according to him, you had thrown a fit, an unsettleable rage the moment he stepped into the room, purely because you had taken him as a stranger, recognized him as an intruder. the most noticeable part, however, was the look of fear in his eyes. one that contrasted the horrific glares he set you for weeks on end.
and so, as you lay on the wooden table of albedo’s lab, awaiting his arrival, you prayed that the sunkissed man would come too. however, such wishes were those of a fool, a moron, a selfish person. after all, you weren’t sure which sunkissed man you were hoping for, couldn’t place a face to the thought anymore. instead lay a blob of mishapen limbs that haunted your mind as the hours passed. only one man came in, dressed in a lab coat that fit him just right. his presence, sadly, did nothing to soothe your mind.
albedo sat on a chair placed too close and too far to the table. he seemed to be writing so fervently, as if his life depended on it — or rather, yours. with a sigh, he stood up, tightening the gloves that adorned his hands just before standing above you. “are you sure?” he spoke in a gentle tone, one that calmed the crashing waves in your guts and sent the ghouls away.
“yes, of course.”
time was of the essence. the alchemist - although not too experienced in the field of surgery - managed to work around the rot and mold building up inside in a good amount of time, using whatever scientific creations he had at hand. your sleeping form was a rather horrifying sight, for he wasn’t sure if you were still there every few seconds.
soon enough, the gaping hole in your chest had been stitched up neatly, your body dressed up in a plain white gown that albedo had borrowed from sucrose. he slumped onto the floor, not caring for how bad his posture was at the moment. now came the waiting. he would wait for you to awaken, no matter how long that would be, because this was his job - and he was dedicated.
surprisingly enough, it wasn’t that much time until you rose from your spot. he was achingly close to passing out, however, his path to sleep was quickly interrupted as you sat up. “good morning,” you spoke, voice somewhat raspy. you stood up, walking towards the counter to get a drink. “care to explain why i’m in your lab and you’re on the verge of falling asleep?”
“ah... surgery. i’m not sure it’d be very pleasant to hear the cause.” you hummed in response. the soft echo of chatter rang in the hallway, tempting you to step out. “don’t go out yet,” the boy spoke, as if he read your thoughts. “you need to recover for a bit. plus, i don’t think it’d be very fitting to step out in that gown.”
“oops.”
you returned to the table, sitting on the edge and allowing for your bare feet to ghost against the wooden floor. the iron stench of blood was still somewhat present in the air. your blood, you assumed. fortunately, albedo was able to take your mind off of the smell with his ( sleepy ) small talk, reminding you that it wouldn’t be safe to head home just yet considering your state.
it was comforting. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like a piece was missing.
the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered once more.
everything seemed to lack its color recently. you couldn’t place it, and it irritated you. however, even while you were stressing over how dull everything was, there was an airiness in your chest that you couldn’t place, couldn’t rip out and inspect. it fluttered so harshly, knotting around your limbs hastily.
perhaps it was because of that sunkissed man who offered to take you under his wing as a knight.
and so the cycle starts again.
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin angst#genshin impact angst#genshin impact fanfic#genshin kaeya#genshin impact kaeya#kaeya alberich#kaeya x reader#kaeya fluff#kaeya smut#kaeya angst#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin x you#genshin impact hcs#genshin impact imagines#genshin fluff#genshin headcanons#kaeya x y/n#kaeya alberich x reader#kaeya x you#genshin imagines#genshin impact fic
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
a glimpse of us | bkdk x reader
✧ tags ;; fem!reader (afab, she/they pronuns used), cigarettes / nicotine addiction, drinking to cope, heavy hurt/comfort, polyamorous negotiations, arguing, unhealthy coping, miscommunications / bad communication, rebounding, getting together, bkdk interact both sexually and intimately, oral (m+f recieving), threesomes, double penetration, anal fingering / anal with prep, intimacy, no power dynamics but reader is confident sexually, petnames (sweetheart, baby), 18+, mdni
✧ wc ;; 19.8k (putting on my clown shoes)
✧ a/n;; i wrote this for me and no one else and you will notice this right away. my bkg bias is also kinda present HDFJKSD
✧ synopsis ;; you always knew you were a stand-in. why wouldn't you be? but you hoped that at least once, he saw you for what you were. that all those years together meant something more.
You haven’t touched a cigarette since your last year of college.
It’s the middle of the night, and the September air is colder than you know what to do with. Part of you knows you should wear a jacket since the weather is persistently bad. It’ll storm soon.
But another part of you doesn’t really care if you get sick. So, instead of dwelling - you follow your whims and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Sitting up in your bed, all of your limbs feel heavy. Your eyes are swollen almost shut, crusty from a long night of crying and drinking.
You laugh a little humorlessly for being so upset about the whole thing, sober enough to do so. Right now, at least after some sleep, you feel okay. Not bad, definitely not good, but okay. And you want to smoke a cigarette, which is probably a sign that you’re not coping with this as well as you’ve hoped.
You don’t think about it. You choose not. Instead, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and stand to your feet. You look around your room. Your cat, Ganache, is asleep in a cardboard box, making you laugh. Your laundry is in a pile, and your work is sprawled all over your desk. Tomorrow, you’ll finish some of it and maybe take a hike alone.
There’s no light in your room besides the moon, covered by clouds. Through the glass doors in your bedroom - leading to the balcony, you look at it for a long time. The sky is starless. It’s light pollution, but somehow it feels like you. Lonely.
You laugh at your own misery and walk to the bathroom to examine your face. You’re worse for wear. Your hair hasn’t been touched in god knows how long, and your face is covered in oil. Reaching your hands out for the faucet, you run the warm water, pumping face wash into your hands and rubbing your skin maybe a little harder than necessary.
You don’t want to think about it. Your fingers scrub along your cheek, and around the area of your nose that gets crusty during the cooler season. Splashing warm water into your skin, you wash the soap away and pat it dry into a towel.
Better, you think while looking into the mirror. At least a little bit.
You put some cream on, and some chapstick but don’t bother brushing your teeth. It’d be pointless to do it now, knowing you’re going to smoke yourself halfway through a pack and it’ll linger on your lips for days.
You don’t change out of your PJs. Worn basketball shorts, and a muscle tank top that shows off the skin stay on. You rummage around in your drawer for a windbreaker and put it on over your clothes. It’s 2 sizes too big but covers you decently.
Before you leave your apartment, you give your cat a little rub on the head but don’t wake her. You grab your keys, some pepper spray, and a lighter and shove them into your pocket before taking a look around your barren apartment.
You were planning on moving out, just a few weeks ago, somewhere closer to them. The irony isn’t lost on you.
You turn the knob and close the door behind you - checking to make sure it’s locked before descending down your hallway. There’s a single light at the end but the rest is dark. It’s a quiet walk. You take an elevator to the first floor. and then leave the whole place behind.
You turn your head to look at it, worried it’ll disappear for a minute. Afterward, you’re out on the street alone for the first time in a long time.
You tilt your head back and stare at the sky. With chapped skin and the tip of your nose freezing, you look at the moon again. It cradles you. Alone, so utterly and terribly alone you think. But the two of you are alone together, and even though it’s silly - it keeps you from crying.
You didn’t bring your headphones, though your phone is in your pocket. Normally, being alone at night makes you nervous. You used to always have company or someone you could call.
You could still probably call them. If you wanted. They’re heroes before they’re anything else.
But the walk is simply cumbersome. You’re not afraid. Too numb, or too desperate to hold onto the brief relief of apathy to be afraid. Nothing happens on the walk there, but you’re not really paying attention. Even if the world collapsed right now, you wouldn’t know.
You know you’re at your location because the light is almost blinding. The luminescent glow of the neon lights makes your vision feel bleary, flickering red kanji and sterile white from the inside. You look around to see no one else is really there, aside from you.
You hesitate to walk in. Is it worth it to break a 4-year streak over this?
But you can feel the itch in your throat, the dryness in your mouth. The memory of relief overwhelms your every sense. Your stomach lurches, scratching your neck.
You walk into the store.
A noise goes off, a little ding. The person at the cash register doesn’t even lift his head to look at you. A college student, you think. He looks young.
You miss college, sometimes. You were a lot more of a mess. Stressed out, frantic, with a fully functioning liver at the start which was nice. But at least then, everything felt more temporary. Every wound felt like it would heal, no matter how big. Everything felt like an impactful part of your growth.
And it’s not like you’re not growing anymore, but now misery just feels like misery. You don’t feel it as much as you live it passively. You have bills to pay. A pet to take care of. Parents old enough to retire. So every bad thing just becomes part of the wave that crashes at your feet every so often.
If this happened in college, you’d be crying and partying and whatever else. You wouldn’t be as desperate to move on, maybe. Letting yourself be broken was a luxury that you didn’t think you still had.
But you don’t want that for yourself either. You just want to stop it altogether and disappear. Under a cloud of white, or the stream of a creak. You just want to go.
You can’t though. Can’t leave. Can’t uproot yourself into new soil, so you lean into old habits for comfort.
Smoking helps you disappear. Your lungs, passively intaking the nicotine and replacing the remaining parts of you.
You search the fridges for a 6 pack of beers. Some cat food, some microwave meals, a candy bar. You take it all in your hands and dump it onto the counter. The kid at the counter gives you a look like he’s startled. He’s reading manga, though you can’t see the cover.
“Could I get two packs of cigarettes? Seven Stars, Revo Lights Menthol.” You say, voice still thick with sleep. You give him a half-smile as he seems startled, watching as his hands fiddle with the keys of the cigarette case.
He puts the two packs on the table, closing it back up. It squeaks as the glass is pulled back into place. His manga is left open on the table. You glance at it.
“Fire Punch?”
He looks surprised as he scans your things, a flush on his face.
“Oh, Uhm, yeah. You know it?”
You nod your head.
“Read it in high school. Agni is a cool protagonist.”
All of a sudden he’s beaming at you. It catches you off-guard, but it makes sense. It’s an older manga and never got all that popular. He shakes his head in disbelief.
“I’ve never met anyone who’s read it. I uhm.. would love to talk about it. You know.”
He puts your stuff in a plastic bag, with the tips of his ears going pink. Your eyes widen, and you give him a little grin. While you look like this, huh? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice.
“You know I’m older than you, yeah?”
He looks startled that you read through his intentions. He’s good-looking. Tall, with dark hair and a mole under his eye.
“I know I look like a kid, but I’m 22.”
“So, only a few years. Not bad for looking the way I do right now. You got a thing for older girls?” You joke.
“That’ll be 4,100 yen. And, not really. You just…seemed cool.” He says, trailing off. You chuckle at him, looking at his nametag before offering him a look.
“I’m not, I can guarantee you. Getting hit on made me feel a little better though. Thanks for that. Do you want my number?” You ask, with a half-smile. His eyes go wide, then he nods hard. You laugh at him.
It’s not like you have anything left to lose.
“Got a pen?”
He looks frantically around for a pen and then hands it to you. You give him the money you owe him first. When he hands you a receipt and change, you flip the flimsy paper over and scribble your number down on it. You grab the bag off the counter, pocketing the cigarettes and holding the rest.
Passing your number down, you pat it twice.
“I can’t guarantee I’ll go out with you any time soon. But you made me feel better, so I’ll give you this. We can talk manga some time. and maybe catch a drink. You’ve got a good face, so don’t waste it on people like me.”
He looks at you startled but takes the paper anyway in a daze. You smile. He seems nice at least. Harmless.
“Y-Yeah. Right. that’d be nice. I uh, hope your night gets better.”
You can feel the melancholy all over your skin as you smile.
“Thanks. Have a nice night.”
You grab your things, turning to walk around. Almost unwilling. But if you stay any longer, you know you’re gonna end up letting yourself talk and you don’t wanna dump all that on a person you just met. Just before he goes, he calls for you.
“Hey, uh - be careful. It’s kind of late. I’d walk you home if I wasn’t on the clock. There might be a hero around, so you know -”
You turn your head, looking at him for a minute. Your chest aches at the thought of having people to call.
“Thanks for looking out. I’ll be alright. Night,”
You leave, with a hand in your pocket and another one curled around the plastic shopping bag.
You should probably go back home.
You keep walking, though. A bad choice, maybe. Instead of turning back onto that road, you walk down another one that you recognize, taking one left until you find a bench underneath a streetlight.
It’s quiet. Empty. There aren’t any heroes patrolling but it’s a local road surrounded by houses and apartments. You don’t feel any danger as you sit down on the wood bench, brushing it once with your hands beforehand.
It’s freezing. Your whole body is icy to the touch. A shiver tears through you as your skin comes in contact with the seat. It’s chillier than it was when you left. Your bag lets out a soft clunk as you set it down next to you. You reach into your windbreaker for the pack of cigarettes and your lighter.
Balancing the lighter between your thighs, you lean forward. With your elbows on your knees, you smack the pack of cigarettes against your palm. Your fingers tremble from the weather, the wind blowing in a hard gust.
You don’t think about it. You use your keys to get rid of the plastic outside, and then open the pack up. The one in the middle of the top row, your hands shake when you take it.
You bring the end to your chapped lip, fishing for your lighter. It’s an expensive thing you got as a gift, engraved. It’s almost out of fuel so it feels light in the palm of your hands. Even so, you flick it open. You run your finger over the wheel, stopping when the flame flickers on.
You bring it to the end of your cigarette, watching it burn. The orange-red glow soothes you. The fire keeps you warm. It burns, and you watch it burn - and with your lips closed around one end, you take a deep and long inhale.
It’s been a long time. Longer than you thought. It feels raw. Nicotine and menthol mix together making your lips tingle and your lungs sting. It tastes like tar and long nights — like a college party, like a balcony, like a place far from here.
Like a time, far far away from this. You balance the stick between your fingers, pulling it away as you exhale the first drag. Blowing a cloud of grey smoke into the air, you lose yourself in it. You smoke and pass the time.
You can’t feel anything but that. The adrenaline crawls up your spine and makes your fingers all jittery. You lean into it without even meaning to. Four years down the drain, you think. It would’ve been 5 in a few months
But you take another drag anyway. Your joints hurt. You smoke, and when the feeling is starting to make your stomach sour - you reach into the pack for a can of beer and drink that to soothe your nerves.
Letting your head rest on the edge of the bench, you stretch yourself out. With a beer can on the ground, you ash your cigarette out. You stretch your arm over your face, the end still burning.
For one minute, you really had forgotten. The interaction at the store helped. The cigarette helped. The sleep helped. The beer helped.
But nothing was enough to make you forget it completely.
You fear that things might always feel like this. That even time can’t stretch itself over a wound this big. Would there ever be enough to fill the sudden crater of a loss like this, to ever fix you?
At some point, you’ll have to accept nothing can ever be the same..
For a long, long time - you cry by yourself. It’s not a desperate sob like it had been 2 weeks ago. It’s just an exhausted, soft little one. Somewhere, inside of yourself, you cry like a baby. Like a child aching to be held though part of you knows no one is there to listen. Self soothe, you say to yourself. Stop crying.
It’s not like you don’t know how to be alone. What that was like.
You just never thought you’d have to be again, and maybe you aren’t all the way. You’ve got a slew of concerned messages on your phone that you’ve been replying to automatically and you’ve been completely disconnected from everyone for a while now.
Reaching out to them will help. In time, you know that. When you’re ready you will. You don’t have the luxury to let the pain linger for as long as you know it will, as it has to. Eventually, you’ll get back up. Even now, the days pass silently without you living them.
You know everything there is to know. Of course, you do. You know what they’ll say. You know that they’ll feel sorry for you. You know Kirishima would’ve held you without ever hesitating. You know your mother would’ve welcomed you if you showed up without a word. Of course, you know.
But knowing where a wound is, you’ve learned, doesn’t make it stop hurting it. Knowing the cause, the color, the shape, and the taste of your injury will never heal it. Your familiarity with your pain doesn’t do anything at all, to make it stop.
You light another cigarette, sitting forward with your elbows on your knees. Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you swear.
“Fuck.”
The memories suffocate you.
You met them both while you were in college. When you were a sophomore in college, they’d saved you from a villain attack. They weren’t dating then, but they made conversation with you after you’d gotten a pretty big injury.
You didn’t care for Bakugou at first. He was loud, mean, and crass. Midoriya has always been the same - friendly, awkward, genuine. Their friendship didn’t really make sense to you, like they spoke in a language you couldn’t ever learn. Midoriya always placated him. They looked at each other with a history that you never imagined having with anyone.
You never thought you would see them again, so you asked. Sitting in the back of an ambulance getting patched up - they told you the story of them. Like they’ve told it a hundred times before. Childhood friends, they told you. They wanted to become heroes, it was rocky then it wasn’t. Midoriya gushed about Bakugou’s ability the whole time, and Bakguou told him to fuck off but blushed the entire time.
You kept running into them, afterward. You were all convinced it was fate. They’d saved you 3 times before Bakugou told you to stop being an idiot with nothing but good intentions and maybe that’s when you knew you were in it.
It was a long time. Not an overnight spark or sense of magnetism, not destiny. Just luck. Just chance that deepened and grew roots over time. You don’t remember much of it in full, just bits and pieces. Like a drop of water building an ocean - you can’t count for each time.
You can name the rainstorms though, the floods, the days where it was clear they started to matter to you.
And they mattered to you a lot where it counted. You went to college in a city far from your hometown, and you didn’t make many friends so you could keep up with your scholarship. College was mostly very stressful. You were just trying to keep yourself but you met them. And you think afterwards you started living.
You knew about them from the beginning. How they looked at each other, not realizing how obvious they made it that they loved each other. Perhaps hiding it after everything felt unnatural.
You were content they wanted to be your friend. It was that simple. When they invited you out with them on their day off, you were confused but you always went. You were happy that they wanted you around.
They never stopped showing up for you. They went to your stupid club events and made a scene. Bought you gifts for the years you were sure you’d spend your birthday alone. Texted you on their patrols, first individually then together.
You learned to make your own friends too, but so much of your life is steeped in them. You thought, at first, that Midoirya took pity on you. You’ve always looked lonely. He was always the type to go out of his way for strangers. Bakugou just came along for the ride.
You realized later he never did anything he didn’t want to do. Even his admission meant that you were supposed to be there.
Time passed. And the two of them, slowly, brought you into their lives. You met their friends and attended their big awards and major achievements while they did yours. On weekend horror movie showings they dragged you along, and during Hero Expo season you always got V.I.P passes. You never told them you only ever went to see them.
They were busy people. It took you a long time to let yourself be a part of that at all. You would always be on the outside, you knew - but they were good to you. You got on with them both so easily, more than anyone else you’d ever met and it—
It felt special to you at least.
You think somewhere down the line, you were content to be an outsider. Everything about them had become so comfortable, that you would’ve been content staying in that same place forever. As an outsider, a watcher, a friend. Just a friend.
They started dating the year you were set to graduate college, and it really wasn’t all that different. Sometimes you caught them kissing, or hugging, or with a hickey on someone's neck but they treated you the same. Kept you at the same distance which wasn’t all that far.
It was in that same year, you realized you’d fallen in love with them both horribly.
Surprisingly, knowing that wasn’t all that bad. You knew it kind of instinctively when you realized it for the first time. It was shocking at first, but you were still content. You could swallow the ache in your chest seeing them happy. You were always an outsider to that, anyway. From the moment you met, there was history between them that would always surpass you and you knew that. Better than anyone. There was never a place for you to be, but you liked the one you had. You cherished that friendship so much you put it above your own feelings, for a long time. You had never met people who put you first so eagerly. Who went out of their way for you so often.
You like to believe they loved you like a friend. It helps to think that.
Four years. You’d loved them both, and so much - for four long years. You were just content to see them love each other because you could always tell they did. You wanted them to be happy.
Looking back they never put real distance between you both. You should’ve done that sooner.
More than anything. More than yourself. From the start, maybe you should’ve guarded your heart more. You were always weak to them. They were the only people to welcome you so much to anything, but maybe you should’ve—
When they broke up, you didn’t know what to do.
They’d always been.. together. For as long as you can remember.
It was Midoriya who showed up at your door. You should’ve sent him home. It’s your own fault, for cramming yourself into a space never meant for you.
He cried in your arms for two days and two nights. You felt sorry for him and texted Bakugou who told you to go fuck yourself. Whatever happened, neither of them would say or tell. It was serious. In the four years they’d been together, they fought but you never saw them like this.
Even though you dated for 6 months, your time with Midoriya all feels very blurry.
You blame yourself. No matter what anyone tells you, deep down, it would always be your fault. After those two days, he just needed someone to lean on.
It didn’t happen right away. Midoriya isn’t capable of that. It was after a few months of him visiting, of him dropping by, of him touching you. He leaned on you, even now - you don’t really know why.
You don’t really understand it but you think he must’ve mistaken the comfort you gave him for love. He’s only ever loved Bakugou so it’s possible he never really understood. You kissed, hugged, touched here and again but never had sex.
In hindsight, you’re glad about that.
Months passed like that, in each other’s company. Midoriya came back after work and slept in your bed every night. You woke up together. But you knew, that whole time, there was an inevitable end.
You always knew. When he hesitated when he looked at you. But sometimes, you got to see the melancholy go away. You watched movies and laughed, and made dinner together. There were enough happy memories to let you forget everything else.
It’s funny. Loving someone so wholly you wouldn’t ask them to love you back. No one would believe you if you told them, but even knowing you were just a stand-in - you were content to experience affection for a while. Like you mattered. You liked being able to make him happy.
You wanted Bakugou to be happy too, but every text you sent him got left on read. You called but never got a reply.
You figured he might’ve resented you. You wouldn’t blame him. Truthfully, you question what you ever had. Maybe you deluded yourself into thinking tolerance was longing. You tried that whole time to get them together, but they did it on their own.
He broke up with you after your new promotion. You never got a chance to tell him. The bottle of wine was still in your apartment.
Just like before, he cried for a long time. Said sorry more times than you knew what to do. He called himself selfish, apologized, said he still wanted to be friends, that Kacchan missed you too.
Over and over, he apologized to you.
You had always been an outsider. Even in your last minutes together, you comforted him when he cried. You didn’t know how to do anything else. You wish you felt contempt.
You’re mostly confused. None of it made any sense. But why would it? You’re just a stranger caught in a storm, too big for your boots.
It was when he said that one thing it broke you.
“I couldn’t stop seeing him in your face. I’m so so sorry. I should’ve never—”
You think that was the first time it all collapsed. Nothing registered after. He didn’t see you, even once. Maybe neither of them did. You were just someone they had been nice to. You got involved in this all by yourself.
You didn’t say anything to him. What would you have? All you said, very quietly at the end, was that you don’t want to see either of them again.
“Please respect that. And, I really do hope the both of you are happy.”
You cried for 3 days. You took your first days off from work, and your manager didn’t question your paid time off. It’s been 3 weeks, and you haven’t spoken to anyone.
And now you’re here, alone - halfway through a packet of cigarettes and hoping your next breath will carry you out of here. It’s freezing cold, and you're numb all over. You blame yourself, and it hurts so much it makes you sick. You want everything to disappear. You want to scream, cry, curl in on yourself.
But there’s nothing left for you to do or say. It’s all over, anyway. And it’s your fault for being greedy. For hoping that in the end, he would’ve at least seen you for what you were.
You’ve finished another cigarette. Your fourth one, which means you’ve only been sitting for 20 minutes. It feels like a century.
You wipe your eyes of stray tears, laughing to yourself.
“God, what the hell's wrong with me?”
Your throat is hoarse so you drink some more beer. You cool it on the cigarettes because you don't want to finish the pack before tomorrow.
You don’t even get to check your voice before a terribly familiar voice catches your attention.
You think for a second you're hallucinating.
“Oh! Hello. I’m Pro-Hero Deku, I’m doing some nightly patrols in this area. Do you need someone to escort you—“
Whatever higher power there is must be pretty sadistic. You hold your breath.
He stops in front of you. You freeze up completely. It doesn’t even feel real when you look at him. You blink a few times trying to make sure you’re seeing clearly.
“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”
His voice is so soft. The same as you remember. You swallow your discomfort, frazzled. Don’t be greedy.
You pick your beer can up, drinking the last of it before trashing it.
“I didn’t know you patrolled here.”
You don’t have to see him to hear the frown in his voice.
“…I usually don't. I’m covering for Mindjack, but that’s.. why are you out here?” He says, voice filled with concern. You don’t know what to say, so you opt to say as little as possible.
“I live close by.”
He knows that. His frown deepens.
“It’s nearly midnight.”
“I just wanted to get some air. I’m going home now, anyway—”
“Wait a minute, please.”
You screw your eyes shut, back turned away from him. Every inch of your skin is burning. Your heart is sinking like it’s made of glass.
You sigh, voice trembling.
“What do you want?”
“Would you please turn around so we can at least talk face to face?”
You don’t mean to say it. You don't mean to sound so bitter and broken and utterly defeated. The words slip out of you like a tire losing air.
“Are you sure you know what it looks like when you’re not looking for someone else?”
He stiffens behind you.
“Please,” is all he says. Like it's all he needs to say. All he can really offer.
You only turn around so he can bear witness to your suffering. Not that you want him to feel guilty but maybe it’ll make him leave you alone. Your eyes are red and swollen when you turn to face him, hands in your pockets. You don’t look at him. You’re afraid to.
“…Have you been smoking?”
“Yeah.”
“But you were clean for—”
“It’s none of your business what I was or wasn’t, Midoriya.”
Midoriya. Not Izuku. Your stomach twists.
“Please don’t be like this.” He says, sounding desperate.
You smile. It's sorrowful. Everything is tangled and messy and confusing. Like everything was a lie, and you were the last person to know. You don’t get it anymore. Your voice comes out, worn and gentle.
“I always knew it would end. I was never under the illusion that you really loved me. That either of you did,” You start, voice breaking. It’s cathartic.
And if this is really the last time, you should say what you wanted.
“Of course we—why wouldn’t we—“
“I always knew you didn’t really feel that way. It was just… nice to feel like I was important. No one in my life ever went out of their way for me like the two of you did,”
His voice breaks.
“Y/N, please”
“I was always afraid to call you my best friends. It’s funny but it never felt right. Kirishima and Todoroki - they were your best friends. What was I, then? I never knew. You were always each other’s. And I was there, and we were so close. But I never really fit. It never really made any sense,”
He looks like he’s crying. You wish you could comfort him and you hate yourself for wanting to.
“I mostly feel pathetic. I think that’s all. I have nothing to show for everything I went through,” You laugh a little under your breath, wiping your tears “It’s my fault. If I wasn’t so eager to feel loved. To love you in what capacity I could. Maybe things would be different,”
You reflect on your life with them. All that life you lived with people who you probably won’t ever see again, they’re easy enough to avoid.
“It might be better if we pretend that we never knew each other. That way, you have nothing to feel guilty for. Kats—Bakugou won’t have to acknowledge me. And I can forget it all together,”
“I don’t want to lose y-you, and Kacchan he—”
You shake your head with a smile. Now that it’s all out, it feels clear. Of course, they loved you.
Just not enough.
Really, that’s all it's ever been.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
You think this time, you’ll really be able to move on. He doesn’t reply, but you can hear him hiccup.
“I loved you both for four long years. That whole time. I was so happy we got to all be together, it didn’t even hurt. I don’t regret a lot of it. Maybe just those six months, and maybe not being able to see Bakugou. I miss him. I miss you too,”
You breathe. It finally feels alright to do it.
“But, I don’t want to see either of you ever again. If you’re in an emergency you can come to find me. I think it’s about time to move on,”
You can hear him calling out for you when you turn around. Asking to walk you home, but you know he won’t follow you. You just keep walking and don’t look back. You turn the corner and head down the empty street. Back home by yourself.
On the way, you smoke another cigarette. You keep the pack in your pocket.
You let go.
It’s just about that time, anyway.
__
Weeks pass by like their nothing.
Your confrontation with Midoriya knocked some of the sense back into you. You came home, cried for 15 minutes, and then took a long shower under hot water. Afterward, you put on some nice lotion, replied to emails, and picked out an outfit for going to work tomorrow.
Slowly but surely, you tried to get your life back in order to some degree. You threw yourself at your job since that made the most sense to you, working over time. Being alone with your thoughts for too long has proved to lead to drinking or smoking in excess, so you hang out with a crowd where you can.
You met with your friends, all of which have supported you completely but only yelled at you for isolating yourself, to begin with. You visited your parents where your dad threatened to knock Midoriya’s lights out, claiming he was still very strong. The sentiment made you feel warm.
You climbed yourself back into something of stability. It’s not like you’re over it. You feel considerably empty and fall into random fits of crying more often than you like and you still smoke whenever you feel the stress of a long day overtake you. But it’s notably better. You’re hanging on and you hadn’t really been before.
Some days are worse than others. Sometimes you pass a street vendor you used to frequent and have to sob over your steering wheel before going home. You see them in the news so often it’s starting to be funny in a dramatic irony sort of way - like the universe wants you to remember they exist.
You’ve been careful to avoid them, though, it’s not as easy to avoid their friends. Kirishima got choked up when you ran into each other, making you promise that you’d keep in contact. In the last few weeks, you’ve seen Jirou, Todoroki, and Shinso all of which seemed happy to see you doing okay.
It was nice. Knowing that they were your friend too, and not just someone who saw them by extension. No one really asked any invasive questions so you figured word got around.
It’s been alright. You’ve been okay at best. It’s mostly been lonely. You’re just trying to live with it, and you’re thinking about seeing a therapist just to get yourself sorted.
Today is a Wednesday. You switched out one of your days off to accompany Ganache to the vet for a routine check-up. It was early in the day, so you had the rest of it to yourself.
Lately, you’ve been texting the guy from the convenience store. His name is Akio, and he’s an exchange student. You mostly text back and forth about manga, and he does a thing where he sends you selfies where he ends up being. He’s cute and a good enough distraction from your misery, plus he’s actually pretty funny when he calls or texts.
You lean back into your couch, picking your feet up to get comfortable. You’re freshly showered and hairless after the impulse choice to shave. The TV is playing some daytime soap that you’re not normally home to see, and there’s a cold beer on a coaster waiting to be opened.
You swipe open your phone after receiving a text. It’s him, studying for an exam. That makes you laugh.
(from akio, 2:45pm): long day OTL
(sent 2:46): it’s my day off. do your best and maybe we can go drink.
(from akio, 2:46): wait really?
You laugh.
(sent 2:47) only if you do your work ❤️
(from akio, 2:48): ON IT. where do you wanna get drinks?
You conjure up a location, close-by where you leave - sending him to it. You watch him type back with a laugh.
(from akio, sent 2:48): im suddenly very busy and im gonna finish studying. see you at 6?
(sent: 2:9): see you at 6
He sends you a slew of very excited emojis and you bite your lip. Admittedly, you feel a little guilty. Though you’re careful to make your intentions clear, a guy so eager to even be in your presence is a nice change. A little harmless flirting has been good for your self-esteem and he’s a great guy. Him being younger than you isn’t as deterrent when you check his Instagram and find out he’s very jacked.
You feel a little embarrassed by the whole thing and all the time. But it’s nice to be wanted and send risque selfies to get a hesitant reply. It might be good to sleep with him, get your mind off of it.
You only ever dated on guy in college and hooked up with a couple of people that you can count on your hand. Your relationship was nice but not memorable, and you broke up over a disagreement about finances in your junior year. After that, you went on sparse dates to keep up appearances.
But it felt wrong to even try when your heart was in other place. So now, you’re just being careful and having fun. And it is fun.
Maybe you can get laid. He seems like he’d have good stamina.
You cover your own face in embarrassment at the train of thought, giggling.
“Fuck what am I even thinking about?”
You shake your head like you’re trying to shoo the thoughts away. You reach over for the beer on the table, shivering as the cold can comes in contact with your skin. Undoing the tab, you take a long sip - warmed by the taste. You don’t even know what flavor this is supposed to be since it was a gift but it’s expensive and malty.
You drink and watch the T.V. A girl caught in a love triangle with two male leads. Both of the male leads are rich and powerful, and the girl comes from a small town. You snort.
“Get out of there while you can, little lady. Save yourself.”
You don’t know how long you sit there and melt into your couch, watching the TV and scrolling on your phone. Doing something productive feels out of reach for now and you’re comfortable passing the day like this. You haven’t really had a normal day of relaxation that doesn’t devolve rapidly into feeling sorry for yourself, so even being able to sit around be lazy without any other pretense feels luxurious.
You think you spend 2 hours like that before your body signals you that it needs fed. Ganache comes up to sit on your lap, accompanying you while you order something to eat. Your finger reacches out for her little head, scratching just under her chin.
“You’re getting hungry too, huh?”
She lets out a soft purr before plopping her head against your bare thigh. You smile, perusing what feels like hundreds of options. It always feels like picking a place is the hardest part.
Trying not to be paralyzed by choice, you jump out of your skin when you hear the doorbell ring. Your cat hops off of your lap at the noise. With furrowed brows, you try to think about who would be ringing your door without dropping by first.
You ordered a new air purifier for your room last week. Maybe it came early? You would’ve got a notification from them, wouldn’t you? You shake your head. Either way, you’d prefer to have it instead of having to pick it up from the post office.
On pure chance that it is that, you stand up and dust yourself off. Pulling your shorts down slightly, you grab a zip-up hoodie from the side of your couch making sure nothing is falling out. You pad softly to the door, unlocking it.
“Hello?”
As soon as you open the door, you see the last person you were expecting. Everything just sort of.. stops in it’s place. For a minute, you don’t breathe. You don’t think. You just… tense. And stare, your hands on door knob. Debating whether or not you should even open it all the way, or say anything.
You would close it if you didn’t see his face. You’ve never seen him look so tired, and seeing that makes your heart drop into your gut.
“...Bakugou?”
He looks up and then looks at you. His shoulders sag in what seems like relief but you can’t be certain.
“What are you…?”
He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again like he’s come up short on the right words. He’s not in his costume for work, and his hands are in his pockets. He’s bigger than you by a mile, but he looks.. terribly small. Maybe frail. Not like himself.
“Hey.” He says, short and quiet. His hand reaches up around his neck “Can we talk?”
Your gut reaction is to turn him down. You’ve made all this progress, and you think that letting him in through the door would be ruining it. But he looks so depserate, and that looks so unusual. He doesn’t look angry, and that scares you.
You don’t mean to let him, but you owe him that much you think. Answers for those 6 months. He was blameless for everything that had happened between the two of you, anyways. You open the door, stepping to one side.
He looks at you, a pained expression passing over him before stepping in. Your breath catches, quietly watching as he takes off his combat boots. Ganache meanders over to him. She was always fond of Bakugou. You watch the two of them interact and you feel your heart rip in half.
Your entanglements show in ways you don’t expect. It’s too much.
He wears the house slippers left out for him, almost out of habit. And then he looks at you for a minte. You snap out of your trance, scratching your cheek.
“Oh, uhm. You can… sit. Did you want a drink maybe? A beer?”
He shakes his head.
“You don’t have to be so damn courteous to me,” He says. Your expressions softens, heart squeezed in your ribs. The disparity settles in the bottom of your lungs, crawling up your throat like a bile. It’s still so early in the day. You can see his expression so clearly. So obviously melancholy.
You choke around the words.
“I don’t know why I wouldn’t be,” You say. You offer him a half-smile. It’s true. You never really had any reason to be angry with him. If he hated or resented you, it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve it.
He closes his eyes than looks away, silently walking off to your living room. You follow him, sitting diagonal to him. You stare at your feet, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. Fidgeting.
You don’t know how long you sit there. The TV is muted, so you direct your eyes to the soaps - trying to avoid the obvious.
Bakugou breaks the silence first.
“You’re smokin’ again.”
His voice of devoid of anything you can read. You look at the ash-tray on the table, before you nod.
“Yeah.” You reply simply. He leans forward on his elbows.
“...You haven’t smoked since college grad.” He says. You smile.
“Yeah.”
You’ve been alone with Bakugou before. Engaged in quiet, comfortable silences. Midoriya normally did the talking for you, so the two of you were accustomed to letting him ramble. Alone though, you normally just enjoyed each others company or talked in depth about something you found important.
When he wasn’t blowing a fuse, you found Bakugou intelligent and practical. You talked about a lot of things, like money and the failings of the Hero Commission and the news. Stuff people found boring, he would normally have something to say. He was always opinionated on everything. Movie, music, books.
You haven’t seen him in over half a year. Not in person, anyway. It’s hard to avoid the number one and two hero in media as it would be.
“I don’t wanna kick you out or anything. Uh, we have a lot to talk about I guess. I just—I’m going out for drinks at 6 so—”
He cuts in abruptly.
“With who?”
You pull back.
“...A guy I met the other day.”
His jaw clenches. Irritation passes over his face as he scrubs a palm over it. He looks upset but you can’t figure out why.
“Have I met him?”
You shake your head.
“Probably not. He’s in college. Met him while I was buying cigarettes, actually.” You muse, feeling fond. “He’s a good kid.”
“Are you—Are you interested him?”
Your eyes widen, staring at him. His voice is holding something in it, half-way between anger and sadness. You don’t really understand him or why he seems like that. Does he think you’re moving on too fast from Izuku?
But that doesn’t feel right to you either. Maybe seeing you happy is upsetting. You don’t know.
“We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking. We just.. talk. Flirt, I guess.” You say, shaking your head. You turn your attention back on him “Don’t know why that’s important. What’d you wanna talk about?”
His eyes widen, and then his face fall. You’re more confused than before.
“Don’t know why that’s important huh?”
You watch him. His face after you’ve said that. He looks upset. Part of you thinks you’re imagining it. But you’ve never seen him look like this. He buries his face in his hands, swearing.
“Fuck this.. fuck this is—”
You decide to interject.
“I don’t know why you’re here but since you are I wanted to say… I wanted to say sorry. I figure that’s why you’re here. That it’s related to that somehow, but before anything I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
It’s been on the tip of your tongue. Weighted, heavy on the inside and impatiently trying to pry itself from between your teeth. Your words come out in a jumbled mess. Part of you can’t help but expect rejection. You sit here, and stare at him and you think to yourself that you’re sorry.
You understand Midoriya at times like this. But you won’t say it more than once, fearful it’ll be a burden to you both. You just spit it out. Like a loose tooth. The blood comes after, filling your tongue with bitter taste of iron.
Lately, you’ve lost the words for heartache. Ache as in bruise, as in hurt that’s lingered for a long time. Your heart aches terribly, and every passing day feels like being trampled on. You look at Bakugou when you say sorry, and your heart expands into the stiffness of your ribs. And it hurts all over, like one raw injury. Lately the taste of your suffering is a cigarette and beer. You wonder what that says about you.
You feel something thick in your throat, looking away.
“Why the fuck are you saying sorry?” He asks, voice shaking with anger. You wince.
“For everything.” You say, griefstricken with every word. You feel your vision get blurry, looking away as you try to take the tremble out of your voice “Sorry for everything, Katsuki.”
You try your best not to cry but you can feel the gaping hole reopen in your chest. You wish this was just a reunion. The longing is so sharp and so endless. It wasn’t like Midoriya. You didn’t have memories to help you cope. You never got a chance to tell him thank you or i love you.
He had always made it clear he didn’t want you around, but you still.. still found yourself clinging to his tolerance. To the fact he was always the first one to reach for you. That he listened to you intently and pushed you to do what you wanted.
Midoriya was soft. Comfortable. Bakugou was tough. He held you steady through all your stress. Cleaned your apartment when life was too much to bear and picked you up at your lowest without a word of judgement.
And in the end you touched the one thing that was never yours. You thought it would be okay because you hadn’t seen him for 7 long months in person. It would’ve beem if you hadn’t seen him again.
But he’s here just the same. And you love him. You love him so much, so deeply, and all at once you feel consumed by the reminder. It burns inside of you hotly. The tears flow naturally.
Don’t be greedy, you tell yourself. This is the universes way of reminding you of what you did. There was never any place for you.
“Hey, fuck. Sweetheart, stop cryin’. Please just fucking look at me, can’t stand seeing you cry,”
You can’t stop yourself from wailing. It’s ugly, and loud, and horrible. No matter how much you try to clamp it down, it spills from between your fingers and stains everything. Your whole body shakes with it. Hiccuping, you swallow a noise of distress.
“I didn’t m-mean for it to end like this. I didn’t want—I didn’t want to hurt you, either of you I just. I got selfish a-and I—fuck, I got greedy. I never meant to, I didn’t want this.”
Before you understand what’s happening, you feel a body around you.
Strong arms. Bakugou’s arms. He’s standing up to hug you, and you can feel him trembling when he pulls you to him. Your heart squeezes, but you don’t let yourself sink. His hands cup the back of your head, and you sob softly into the fabric of his shirt.
“Fuck. I’m such an idiot. Please stop crying, sweetheart. Please.”
“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry”
For a while, you can’t do anything but weep. Bakugou doesn’t let go of you. He’s never been good at comforting people, but his grip on you is tight. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting like that, sobbing into his arms with your fingers in his shirt.
Your head feels messy, throbbing when you finally manage to stop. You pull away, your eyes swollen. You lick your lips, chapped before pulling back.
“Thanks for comforting me.” You say, pulling away. You try to anyway.
Bakugou cups your face in his hands. It catches you off guard, the feeling of his calloused palms. He lifts your face, examining you. Your mouth parts in confusion, as you feel his thumb running under your eyes.
“All fucking wrong. We did this shit all so fucking wrong.”
“B-Bakugou?”
He doesn’t let go of you. Just looks for a long time.
“Bakugou?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Why’re you..?”
“I missed you.” He says in a murmur, soft and uneasy and so regretful it stuns you “I’m so fucking sorry. We whoulda never—I’m gonna kick that shitnerds ass, swear.”
“You…what?”
He lets go of you, then runs a hand through his hair.
“You should.. text your friend or whatever. We should talk.”
Bakugou looks at you apologetically, handing your phone. You watch him disappear into your kitchen, pouring you a glass of water and handing you some tissues. You don’t know what to say, completely dazed. You send Akio a text, making an excuse about a work emergency and saying you’ll drink with him this Saturday.
Bakugou hands you the glass, leaving your tissues on the coffee table before sitting right where he was.
For the first time, you’re completely at a loss.
“I don’t understand.” Are the first words out of your mouth. Bakugou gives you a laugh.
“With the way shits been going, don’t know why you would.”
“D-Did something happen between you and Midoriya?”
He frowns.
“Fuck, no. Promise no stupid shit this time. Izuku just told me I should come talk to you.”
“…He did?”
He smiles at you.
“Yeah, he did. Not like I’m any better at this shit than he is, but he said you weren’t gonna listen to him,” He pauses, turning away from him “Said you never wanted to see him again.”
You look at your lap, listening to the sound of passing cars.
“I thought it’d be for the best. It’s uhm.. It’s hard for me to see either of you. You know,”
There’s a tense look on Bakugou’s face when he stares at you. You’ve never seen it before.
“…Did you mean what you said to Deku?”
Your throat constricts.
“A-about?”
“About your feelings. For the both of us, you said—“
You feel your heart race, uncomfortable.
“…Does it matter?”
“Matters a hell of a lot.”
You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. Over and over, the word sticks to you. Don’t get greedy. You want to say nothing. To close your eyes and deny it.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
You feel your sense of stability crumble the instant the words leave your mouth. Like a sandcastle collapsed under the tide, you melt into unease.
Your eyes sting with fresh tears that you hurry to wipe away. You don’t even know what they’re for.
“Hey. Stop, look—it’s not what you think, alright? The feeling is mutual, but you've gotta listen to me.”
Your eyes widen. Looking up again, you frantically look at his face then shake your head. Did you mishear?
“It’s what?”
“It’s mutual. We both… it’s a lot to explain alright? But from the beginning, it’s been mutual and it wasn’t some freak accident you ended up in our lives. I don’t want you thinkin’ that”
You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You shake your head.
“I don’t…I don’t get it. From the beginning? You say you both have feelings for me, but I haven’t seen you in 7 months. A-and I-Izuku said—”
Bakugou grits his teeth suddenly. He looks sharp, vicious.
“Ignore what that half-brained idiot said, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
You sit back, unsure of how to proceed. You want to be shocked, or even angry but all you feel is confusion. You fiddle with your hands, and hear Bakugou sigh over his. His voice sounds exhausted.
“All those months ago, when Izuku and I got into a fight… we were fighting over you.”
The world comes to a halt. You choke on a gasp of air. Bakugou doesn’t pick his head up to look at you. The sun shadows the shame on his shoulders before you get a minute to speak. His face softens, then regret sifts through.
He looks tired. Terribly tired.
“It was because of me. Izuku… he realized how he felt early on. How we both did. He brought it up to me and I just…froze. I didn’t know what to do.”
You hold your breath as you watch his face.
“You…?”
“We fought about it. I blew up on him, and he wouldn’t back down on the whole thing. I was scared outta my mind. Me.. and Izuku - it took us a long time to get where we were.”
You laugh a little at that, scratching your hand.
“Yeah I know.”
He lets out a puff of air.
“I bet you do. It freaked me out. It wasn’t like… I didn’t realize. We fought and I told him to go fuck off and be with you then. I regretted as soon as I did, but he walked off. Left me alone for a while.”
You frown.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t… I didn’t want that for you. I was a-always worried about you.”
He gives you a light-hearted scoff.
“I know. I got every call and text, sweetheart. Truth to be told, I would’ve lost my fucking mind if you hadn’t. That whole time.., you were looking out us both. I was still pissed, so I threw myself at my job. Saw Deku and got into some altercations.”
This surprises you. It makes sense. It’s hard to avoid each other, you’re sure. You wonder why Deku never told you, but all those days he came home extra upset - maybe it was that.
“I had no idea.”
“With the way you texted me updates, I figured he didn’t tell you. He’s a shit-head like that. Keeps everything in and then lets it all out. He forgets that he’s a human being sometimes.”
“It makes sense but…what happened? How’d you get here?”
“We had a big fight and made up, eventually. I hadn’t really thought about anything. I was working over-time to avoid it, but I was so angry all the time I didn’t feel like myself. Shitty Hair and them kept me calm.”
“Kirishima cried when he saw me,” You say in a daze. Bakugou laughs.
“He was pissed at me when I told him everything.”
“Kirishima was?”
“You think he’s nice like the rest of ‘em but he’s scary as fuck when he’s mad. He didn’t let me hear the end of it for fucking up. And I’m…sorry for that. For fucking this up.”
You shake your head at him.
“I don’t blame you. I still don’t really understand it, but I should’ve pushed him away. My feelings were getting in the way, and I didn’t think about how I was—”
“Hey. Stop that. Get this through your head, you didn’t do shit. Izuku leaned on you because he fucking cares about you.”
“But he said—”
“We’re not complete without each other.”
Everything stops in an abrupt manner. His words are muddled, like they’ve been shaken around in his heart for much longer than you thought.
“Izuku doesn’t know his own feelings. He thought that I was right. He thought he just misunderstood himself and he’s always been like that. He’s not good at knowing his own shit.”
And then, you think you see him cry. You don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen Bakugou Katsuki cry but his eyes look red.
“We tried. To go back to how things were, we tried so fuckin’ hard sweetheart. You never wanted to see us again and I was too damn stubborn to admit to myself not getting your texts was breaking me. We tried.”
You swallow the feeling in your throat. You’re so disoriented.
“And..?”
“It didn’t work. We couldn’t stop arguing and it wasn’t like before. We were both on edge all the time and we both knew why. Izuku realized his feelings after you left. And I couldn’t deny that the idea of never seeing you again fucking broke me.”
You don’t think you could cry anymore if you tried, but you manage.
“I just… it doesn’t feel real. You two have so much history. Without me. A whole life together and there’s no space for me to be involved. You love each other so much, how could you love me too? How could it ever compare?”
“How could we not fucking love you, sweetheart? All those years together. You kept us grounded for how long? I never knew what it meant.. whatever bullshit Deku talked about saving people. But then we met you and I would’ve done anything to keep you safe.”
“Katsuki,”
You don’t even know what to do anymore. What to think or believe.
“Deku loves you to death. I can see it on his face. He loves seeing you with your dumbass cat. He loves listening to you recite lines from movies.”
“And you?”
“And I’m here trying to convince you I’m still worth your time. I can’t do all that sappy shit. This is all I got.”
“You’re doing fine.” You say with a smile. He smiles back.
“I feel like I’m gonna puke right now.” He admits.
“I’m just scared. None of this feels real to me.”
“When that shitnerd and I got together, I couldn’t get my head around it for 3 days. I was terrified of what that meant for me. Being vulnerable with people is terrifying and I still can’t stand it.”
“Yeah.”
“But if I never confronted my fears, I would’ve been alone and blind for the rest of my life. Shit gets bad. You fuck up and fight and things are hard - but it’s way fucking better to fight with people you love than it is to by yourself with your misery. Life got easier when I let myself feel my feelings and whatnot.”
“You sound really wise.”
He laughs under his breath.
“Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m being serious. You sound so mature and stuff.”
“And stuff? You been hanging around that college brat way too much.” He says through gritted teeth. You laugh.
“He’s nice, Katsuki.”
“He can kiss my fucking ass, corrupting you with his bullshit—”
“He is not doing that!”
“You think I don’t see your legs shaven? You’re a shit liar.”
“It was coincidence. I was gonna sleep with him though.” You say the last part a little quieter. He immediately gets mad again.
“The hell you are.”
You give him a smile, crinkling your nose.
“Jeez, it’s not even your business, you know.”
He groans.
“My hearts too weak for that right now, yeah? Be fucking easy on me.”
You look down at your lap, unsure of what else too. Your voice is hoarse so you reach for the glass on the table.
“Sorry. Just… processing, I guess.”
Neither of you talk for a long while. It’s just.. silent. It’s starting to get dark out, but not enough that it’s noticeable. The sunset is just teetering around the skyline. You take a deep long breath, tapping your foot. Picking the skin on your fingers. Fighting the urge to smoke an entire packet, you take a long breath.
“Hey.”
You lift your head to look at him. He looks nervous.
“Is it okay if I… fuck, like would it be okay if I kissed you?”
You nearly cough up a lung from shock.
“Would that be okay? Wouldn’t Izuku be—”
Bakugou gives you a little grin.
“He got 6 months. He’ll get over it.”
You squirm a little in your chair heart. Heart-racing.
“...T-Then, it’d be okay. I guess.”
“C’mere.”
You feel shaky when you stand to your feet. Awkward. But as soon as you’re in reaching distance, you feel Bakugou’s hand touch yours. His hands are nice. Smooth and long and nimble but calloused on some parts. Irrevocably warm, when they wrap around your pointer.
“If I do something you don’t like, headbutt me,” He offers. You frown at him,
“I’ll tell you.”
“Yeah, yeah,”
Without word, you feel him touch you. One hand busies itself with your hands, palms running up the back side of your forearm, then over the top before opening your hands to him. Pulling the sleeves of your hoodie with it and exposing your skin to cool air. He touches you quietly, thoughtfully passing down until he’s holding your hand. Not with your your fingers intertwined, but cupped against yours in a silent, gentle reprieve.
The other hand rests on the back of your thigh before brushing behind your knee and staying there. He’s just holding you, and there’s nothing especially risky about it. But it leaves you a mess, enough that you can’t even look at him.
He tugs you to him. Spreading his legs, shifting to help you into his lap. Like a lamb to shepherd, you follow. Too dazed to protest him, he looks up at you and you look down at him. He brings your hands to his chest, and you slink them around his neck. He leans you forward until you’re only a few inches apart, breath mingling.
He smells like smoke. You take a deep breath, studying his face before realizing his doing the same to. His eyes are outlining your mouth.
“You smell like cigarettes.” He tells you.
“Sorry.”
He shakes his head.
“You made me like the smell way back. Used to think it was awful.”
“And now?”
“Now it makes me lightheaded.”
“Like you wanna kiss me?” You tease. He takes a deep breath.
“So fucking bad.”
“Kiss me, Katuski.”
“Mm,”
His mouth is soft. You think that first. Even as your bodies so desperately and almost wholly on instinct, your skin starting to buzzy faintly. It’s so utterly blissful all you can think to feel is that he’s soft. He tastes sweet. His hands are the back of your thighs squeezing tight and you want them forever. You like that he lets you lead a little, and you take pleasure in touching him.
Squeezing the back of his neck, you thread your fingers gently through his hair. Soft and ticklish against your fingers - he lets out a moan when you squeeze at the root. You did again and he does it one more time. Something warm unfurls in your stomach, starting to unwind like loose thread.
“You sound pretty like that.” You tell him once you pull away. He shivers.
“You’re gonna put me in an early grave,”
“So you’re just gonna let Izuku become number one?”
He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen all day. It looks so familiar on him, your chest feels like it’s being crushed.
“Not a chance in fucking hell.”
“That’s the spirit, Katsuki.”
“Speaking of.. we should probably invite that lewd nerd over here.” He says, burying his face in your neck. You hug him close to your chest.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He’s gonna cry the whole damn time. Been losing his shit all day.”
“Poor Izuku.”
“He’s gonna cry when you call him that too. Cried about being Midoriya for 2 whole days.”
“He’s such a baby.”
Bakugo smiles into your neck.
“I’d cry too.”
__
You wait for Izuku to come back to your apartment at your front door, with Bakugou clinging to your shoulders.
Nothing much had happened since your kiss. You and Bakugou laid together and made-out to pass the time - watching TV and quietly catching up. When Izuku sent you a text about being 5 minutes out, you decided to wait at the door to greet him.
You feel like the whole day has been one long dream. Seeing Izuku, you think, will make it feel more real.
When you hear the nob of your front door turn, you look up at Bakugou with excitement. He looks down at you, pressing his lips to your temple, his voice a soft, excited murmur in your ear.
“He’s gonna cry right away.” He says, hushed, tone light. Amused. You elbow him.
“Don’t be mean, Katsuki.”
Your breath hitches when you do see the door open. He looks a little disoriented when he passes the threshold into your apartment. His dark green curls are messy from the wind and he’s all out of breath like his heart is racing.
You smile at him as soon as he lifts his head up to look you. His lower lip trembles with immediacy, hands flying up to his face to catch the tears already threatening to spill. You feel Bakugou squeeze a little tighter around your waist, smiling into your neck.
“Welcome home, Izuku.”
“Oh god.”
You forget how big he is until he runs forward to tackle you both in his arms. You hear Bakugou fuss over you, something about you damn crybaby being mumbled. But more than that, you feel the familiar warmth of Deku. Izuku and Katsuki, all together. He smells like the sun and sweat, , it’s familiar and comfortable. Like home. You lean forward to wrap your arms around his midriff. You melt into the touch, as easy as it always been.
“I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I love you.”
When he pulls away, he’s already blubbering. His skin is a blotchy, familiar red and his eyes are watery. He looks down at you like you aren’t real. He’s the tallest of the three of you, so you have to get on your tippy toes to kiss him.
Familiar. Your hands touch base at his chest before running up, cradling his face in your hands. You swipe the tears from him, giving him a biggrin.
“I missed you, Izuku.”
“Oh god, oh god—Can I?—Wanna kiss you both so bad, missed you so much, I’m so happy.”
“Slow down, you idiot. You’re gonna scare ‘em, jeez.” Katsuki says, but his face betrays him. You can see that he wants that too, when you look up. They both look at you expectantly, and you nod.
Izuku kisses you first. It’s just like him, terribly overwhelmed. He tastes mildly like salt, maybe from all the tears. He grabs your face and presses your lips to you like the world will end if he doesn’t. He does it once, pulls away, and does it two more times just to be safe. You giggle when he pulls away, looking at you in your eyes.
“We should t-talk properly, but I’m so so sorry, I just—”
You look at him. The scars all over him. The splattered freckles along the bridge of his nose and his dark lashes. You shake your head.
“Later,” — You offer, fingers slipping under his shirt — “Need you both.” You say, a little quieter.
This makes his eyes go wide before he pulls back completely, covering his face with hands. You hear Katsuki laugh behind you.
“Lewd fucking nerd.” He says, with a terrible amount of affection. Izuku’s voice goes raspy.
“Shut up, Kacchan.”
“Oh that’s right. The two of you never went all the way, right?”
You flush this time.
Katsuki nips at your neck with his teeth, soft and playful.
“You’re gonna make him cum in his pants, sweetheart,”
You feel something tickle in the back of your throat.
“I thought you weren’t… uhm. You know. Into me.” You admit. Izuku’s eyes widen so far his brows touch his hairline. Katsuku shake with laughter behind you.
“You got no idea how fucking gross he is. Haah, that’s funny. Not into you my ass.”
“Kacchan!”
Before you register it, Katsuki whispers in your ears. They’re making eye-contact with each other with you sandwiched in the middle. They’re both so much. Too much for any one person to handle, you don’t know how you’re going to do it.
Katsuki’s voice is smug.
“Reach your hand out. Go on,”
You do as he says, convinced you should. You want to. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before but never fully. You never really did anything, you just…
You touch it. Touch him. Your whole body goes hot as you feel something heavy in the palm of your hand. thick. It twitches against the material of his pants. Above you, Izuku shudders. His whole body shakes slightly.
“I didn’t even…”
“You think I call him ‘lewd nerd’ for fun. He’s a pervert, sweets. It’s just how it is.”
Your heart races. Fuck, what are you getting yourself into right now?
But it feels right. And with the both of them over you, the warmth of their bodies and strong forms - you can’t help but want to fall into it. You close your eyes, look up and glancing at both of them.
“I wanna do it.” You whisper, low. You feel your skin prickle with heat. Izuku groans and Katsuki chuckles.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
__
From the moment you stumble in your bedroom, everything around sort of disappears.
You’re quick to lock the door behind you, to ensure your cat doesn’t follow you but the moment you’re in - you’re practically surrounded. The energy alone is enough to melt your spine. Izuku carries you in his arms and Katsuki trails behind you, giving you a vicisious grin that makes you wetter than you know to handle.
It’s all very messy and desperate, trying to situate yourself into the bed. They keep you in the middle the entire time. At times like these, you’re grateful for the investment you made in your firm mattress. The two of them alone take up so much of the once roomy king-sized you find it hard to breathe.
You’re sitting on your legs with Katsuki mirroring you, behind you. Izuku hovers over you like a shadow. Your head feels jumbled with everything surrounding you. The first thing you feel is the shape of Katsuki’s mouth. His lips are tender and soft, pressing into your shoulder blade. You let out a fluttery little sigh, unsure of what to do.
It’s disorienting as much as it’s hot. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, two people who are wholly enigmatic without each other. Together you’re like stars colliding. Or maybe, yu’re the world between them, keeping them at bay - squeezed by the matter of their existence. Katsuki’s hand travel under your t-shirt, his hands squeezing your waist.
Izuku tilts your head up to kiss you first, then reach over your shoulder kissing Katsuki. You think, sometimes, you like seeing them kiss more than you like being kissed on your own.
“You’re so pretty… She’s so pretty, right Kacchan?”
He does an affirmative hum behind you. Heat rips through you, as Bakugou’s hands reach up. He cups your tits, bare underneath the fabric of your shirt. His chest rumbles with a groan, thumb, and pointer tweaking your nipples till they're hard. You let out a soft mewl.
“Fuck.. fuck look at that.”
He’s not talking to you, but to Izuku who’s watching you both with a shadowy expression. His eyes suddenly look dark. Terribly and utterly focused on your tits, where your nipples peek through your cotton white t-shirt. You would’ve worn something cute if you had the time. Thank god you showered at all, though you don’t think either of them would care.
Instead of answering, Izuku tugs at the bottom of your shirt. You feel Katsuki behind you, lifting the material up. They work together well. You raise your hands to let it to taken off, feeling shy you try to tuck your chin. Izuku’s quick to draw you back, using his hand to turn your head with a gentle force. He’s soft, but authoritative. It shakes you to your core.
“Hey. None of that okay. Keey your eyes on us.”
“What he said, sweetheart.”
You gasp a little as your bare skin touches the cold air. Goosebumps raise in patches all over your body.
At a loss for words, your eyes follow Izuku in his movements. How he scoots back on the bed, then dips his head down. His mouth is a surprise - he kisses down your sternum and with no warning at all - gropes your chest like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do.
It’s different from before. The way he squeezes them in his palms, pushes them together, watches them move and spill between his finger. He’s taking his time to explore you with the single-minded focus he always gets. His tongue planes over the hardened buds, around the creased skin before sucking the whole thing into his mouth.
You throw your head back, mouth open in a quiet gasp. Katsuki slowly slides your hands over your navel, across your stomach. Around your middle, his fingers fidget with the waist-band of your shorts, before dipping into the line. Your thighs squeeze instinctively, chewing the inside of your cheek.
It’s too much. You whimper a little as Izuku pays attention to your tits, your body flaring upr. Izuku is shameless in wanting you. His eyes are so focused on your every move, and his hands feel so impossibly big. It feels like he could eat you, swallow you - the way he touches you so shamelessly.
You’re so aroused. Wet enough that it’s soaking your cotton panties all the way through. It’s humiliating when Katsuki touches just over the seam, how his finger soaks on the damp spot.
“You’re making her so wet, nerd.”
“Really, Kacchan?”
“Fuck, yeah. She’s soaked. Feel good?”
The last part is talking to you. Izuku rubs your nipples with his thumbs, hands cradling your sides when you nod,
“Feels good.” You say back, halfway panting. You open your eyes up to look over at Izuku, then look back to Katsuki “I want you guys to take it off. Too many clothes.”
Katsuki laughs behind you, and you feel him pull away. Izuku places a kiss on your hairline. You scoot over, away from them, and watch them as you get undressed.
Your eyes land on Katsuki first. You’ve seen Izuku naked before, almost completely. You’d never seen Katsuki, so you watch. He catches you staring, giving you a little smirk before he turns over to you.
“You’re a freak too. Gettin’ off on watching me strip.”
You lean back on your palms.
“Should I tip you?”
He laughs.
“Fuck off.”
He takes it off a little more deliberately. Your eyes follow the curves in his body. The two of them are so stupidly jacked. Katsuki is a little leaner in his make up. His strength is concentrated in his back muscles and his arms. You see it when he reaches over his head. He’s lithe, smooth everywhere else but his arms are pure and almost brutish. It’s so sexy on him. There’s only one big scar on his body that you already know the story of.
You don’t even realize you’re staring at him until you hear his voice, smug as he calls you over.
“You wanna touch it?”
You nod, a little sheepish about being caught. Crawling over to him, you’re standing on your knee.. Izuku watches the two of you, out of the corner of his eyes. His lower lip is tugged, pressed under his teeth.
You let your fingers do the guiding. You start at his waist. He looks at you, intent. He’s artwork, you fight the urge to treat him rough - your fingers tracing over his obliques. Gently grabbing him, you trace all the way up the natural lines of his body, Even without flexing, you can see his physique. Your palms plane over the muscle of his back and arms before curling around his shoulders.
“You’re arms are so nice.”
“Yeah?”
“And you’re…”
Words escape you when you look down. His chest.. fuck. Katsuki is pale everywhere. His nipples are pink against his skin, noticeably bright. The cold season makes him pale where as Izuku is always tan. His chest is so fucking big. It’s so distracting you lose whatever you want to say. Your hands drop then reach forward, and without so much as a choice - you squeeze the fat of his chest between your fingers just like Izuku had been before.
Izuku comes up behind you. The two of them share a look you don’t have the mind to pay attention to.
“Kacchan has nice tits, doesn’t he?”
“Go fuck yourself, Deku.”
Your mouth feels so dry.
“Y-Yeah.”
“They’re sensitive.” Izuku tells you, voice thick. Revenge, or something along those lines. It piques your interest.
“Yeah?”
“Flick them. He likes it.”
When you look at Katsuki’s face it’s strained. A warm shade of pink dances over every inch of his exposed skin, and he’s holding his breath. Oh, you think. He wants this.
You flick his nipples and watch as his whole body crumbles forward. He drops his head on his shoulders, as you tweak and play with them. His voice is raspy, teeth gritted.
“Fuck, y-you’re evil. Fuck, there.”
“Pick your head up, Kat.”
He does so. He looks.. soft. Pretty. His eyes are a little glassy. You lean forward, letting your mouth close around one of his tits. He cries out, wobbly. Izuku is quick to keep him steady, hands reaching around to his hips.
“You learn fast.”
You hum sucking on each of them. Katsuki is a mess over you. His body is so hot, and you can see his cock against his clothes. You stay like that, the three of you stood on your knees with just enough space to tease and touch. Your body relishes the contact, mind-swimming. You indulge your desires to explore, tentatively testing the boundaries.
You pull away briefly saliva making his tits shiny. He looks at you, dazed.
“Can I leave marks on either of you?”
“Freak.” Katsuki says. You flush.
“Should be fine. Kacchan is wearing his winter costume, anyway.”
You nod your head, then let your tongue lave over Katsuki’s neck before biting and sucking. You leave it a little under the collar, low enough to be easily covered. He lets out a soft hiss.
“You’re so touchy with me. Gonna leave Izuku out to dry?”
You laugh, rubbing your cheek into his pec. Grabbing his ass, he gives you a little scowl but doesn’t tell you to stop.
“I never got to touch you. I touched Izuku at least.”
You feel Izuku’s chin on your shoulder.
“Kacchan’s right though, I feel neglected.”
Izuku’s arm closes around your waist. You turn your head slightly, enough to see him behind him.
“You want a hickey too?”
Izuku buries his face in your neck.
“Mm, maybe,”
“Are you both usually this needy?” You ask amused.
“You would be too if you were us, y’know?”
You think on what he’s said. Surrounded by the warmth of their bodies, you laugh.
“You had each other,” You tease. Katsuki scoffs and Izuku sounds like he’s whining. They’re both cute when they act like that.
“Like you didn’t have your fucking boy-toy.” Katsuki spits, petty jealousy clear in his voice. Izuku suddenly gets very tense and pulls away.
The utter devastation in his voice makes you feel a little bad, but another part of you feels vindicated and kinda happy they care. You hide a smile.
“...Are you seeing someone else?”
“If I was?”
Izuku makes a face you can only describe as heartbroken, making you burst out in laughter.
“Izuku, I was just kidding! Stop looking so sad.”
“You’re so mean.”
To think you could bring the number one hero in the country to tears fills you with silent pride. Katsuki pipes up behind you.
“She was gonna fuck him. Her legs are all shaved.”
Izuku gasps scandalized.
“Who even is he?!”
“A college boy,” You interject, dropping your head onto his shoulder “He was flirting with me when I went to buy cigarettes. Akio.”
Izuku frowns deep and frustrated.
“Sounds like a jackass.”
“He’s a nice kid, Katsuki. I’m still gonna get drinks with him on Saturday, anyway.”
Two voices shout at you at once.
“What?”
“The fuck?”
You break out into a fit of giggles.
“I promised I would if he studied.”
“And you’re gonna go and tell the kid that you’ve got two great boyfriends at home right?”
You grin a little. The possession in Katsuki’s voice is tangible. Izuku is silent but you can practically feel the frustration off him. You hum, pretending to think.
“Is that what you two are?”
“You’re so fucking evil, baby. Evil.”
You shrug.
“Dunno. The role of ‘significant other’ was vacant for a long time. Think I should give it up so easily?”
Katsuki sits up, leaning forward and trapping you between them. Your heart leaps.
“Wanna know what I think?”
You nod, Katsuki’s eyes sharpen.
“I think it’s a bad idea to provoke two heroes who could run laps around you, yeah?”
You look up at him, smiling.
“All that stamina should be put to good use, then. Earn your title, heroes. Sound good?”
“You’re such a tease.” Izuku rasps behind you. You look up to see him, eyes cloudy.
“I’m nice to boys who deserve it.” You say on a whim. Both of them react in a way you can’t predict, shock first then lust right after.
“Need you now.” Izuku says through a breath.
“How do you want me?”
“Want you to sit on my face. Want Kacchan to suck my cock.”
The way he says it makes you reel. You look at Katsuki. He looks.. obedient. It’s the only way you can think to call it. Excited. Your insides twitch.
“Fuck.” You groan “I want that.”
“Kacchan?”
“Shut up and take your dick out, nerd.”
His demeanors cools you off a little, but it’s not enough to stop the anticipation growing. The three of you suddenly move in haste. There’s enough room to move around, bed creaking as everyone adjusts to comfort. You watch Izuku lay down flat on the bed, the whole thing dipping under the weight of his body. You’ve seen him naked before, but it’s always a sight to behold. His whole body is covered in freckles, dense around his shoulders and his thighs.
He’s strong everywhere. As jacked as someone at his height could be, to deal with the burden of his quirk. Even so, the strongest part of him are his legs. Thick, muscular thighs that make your whole body go alight. He’s covered in scars of different sizes, smaller around his waist and middle. Dense on his arms and chest.
There’s hair on his stomach and over his pecs. Above his cock, well-trimmed and neat.
You feel your mouth go dry seeing Izuku’s cock sitting between his legs. You’ve never.. not like this. Your eyes are focus on it, trailing down the line. He isn’t cut, and the tip is darker than the rest. It does a hard curve left.
It’s so thick. Your stomach does a flip ar how unfathomable it is just looking at it.
“Nerd’s fucking hung, isn’t he?”
“You’re so big, Izuku. How do you even…?”
“You scared?”
You nod soft, and the both of them laugh.
“Worry about it later. Want you to sit on my face.” Izuku tells you. His tone is so agreeable, crushing your remaining barriers. Welcoming. You squirm a little thinking about taking it, but resign yourself to his request. You crawl over to him, situating your thighs on either side of his face.
Katsuki observers you for a minute before sitting between Izuku’s legs. You can tell from his confidence that he’s done it a hundred times before. There’s something about the position, the feeling that you’re getting off on each other that has your core feeling tight. Izuku puts his hands on the tops of your thighs.
For the first time, you’re fully at a loss. Katsuki gives you a grin when he realizes what you’re thinking. Your eyes are glued to his form, his physique. The curves of is body when he gets on his knees and arches up. Your heart thuds against your ribs desperately. The blood is rushing into your ears, your hand tingles with nerves.
Izuku must know where you’re focusing too, because his hands gently squeeze the tops of your thighs. He doesn’t take you down, or even move. His breath fans against your sticky cunt.
“Wanna see me suck cock so bad?”
Whatever over takes you is unspeakable. He just makes it sounds so good. The words die off in your mouth. You’re so wet, hyperfocused on the visual. Katsuki wraps his hands around the base of Izuku’s cock, and from under you there’s a moan. The realization hits all at once like a bulldozer leveling a city. You find yourself sinking under the crushing realization of what you’re doing. They’re pleasuring you, and each other. All together.
The thought alone makes your head spin.
“Keep your eyes on me. Don’t close ‘em, since you wanna be a fuckin’ pervert. And nerd,”
“Hn?”
“Don’t let her cum if I tell you she’s closin’ her eyes.”
You can feel his smile under you.
“Good idea, Kacchan.”
You gasp. Mumble something about them being evil, but the words don’t register. Without another minute of hesitation, Izuku all but drags you down to him.
The moment you feel Izuku dart his tongue out, you think the world from under you falling. You want, desperately, to close your eyes. It’s not like you’ve never had someone go down on you.
But Izuku isn’t just eating you out. He isn’t even really doing it for you. There’s a drunkeneness to it that has your thighs squeezing around his head. His hair tickles your skin and you’re so close you’re sure you’re suffocating him. His arms secure themselves around your thighs until you’re trapped in his grip. His tongue is gentle for a briefly, if only to welcome you the sensation.
But right after, with only a second between, he sucks his clit into the heat of his mouth. It’s so shameless it startles you. Your jaw hangs open, and your eyes squeeze shut. Your facing forward. You can feel the ridges of his nose, the point of his chin as the full weight of your body drops onto his face. Your hands fly forward, splaying on his chest to give yourself some semblance of balance.
Izuku moves like he isn’t thinking about anything other than tasting you. The drag of his tongue, muscles moving against your clit makes your toes curl. You bite your lip to cut off the sounds threatening to leave you only to give up minutes later.
“Ngh, ‘zuku—”
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
You struggle but listen. Blearily, you set your focus on Katsuki. The feeling of Izuku and his ruthlessness adds to your delirium. Suspended, you watch Katsuki work Izuku’s cock and feel like you might really die. The visual impact is enough to send you tipping over an edge more quick you ever have in your life and the intoxicated way Izuku’s latched onto your pussy makes you feel like giving in.
Katsuki is watching you back. This stuns you the most of anything. His eyes, red and fixed, are hard and looking at the place where your pussy meets Izuku’s chin. Even as he swallows around his cock, he’s looking at you. Meeting your gaze as he slides is tongue under the swollen head of his cock, flicking the tip. He’s only got one hand, placed carefully on Izuku’s thigh for balance.
But the other is fisted around his cock. His cock. Long, pink, leaking in his palms. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Izuku moans under you, into you. Submerged in the feeling of euphoria, you let out a pathetic cry. Katsuki watches you. His gaze is like splitting atoms, an impossibility happening infront of your eyes. All at once, you take everything in to process. You take Katsuki dipping his head down, his pinks lips stretching around Izuku’s cock. His eyes, stuck on your silhouttete as he takes it down the base without so much as a gag - the drool dripping down onto his chin in the same way you’re doing into Izuku’s face.
You take in the sight of him pulling off, mesmirzed by how much he’s taken. How good he is, how sloppy. Izuku is too, and something occurs in your head that maybe this is another way they mirror each other. The messy way Izuku eats your pussy, with his tongue and the whole of his mouth. With ridiculous fervor, with hazy determination.
You can’t take your eyes off of Katsuki. You’re consumed by the way they both make you feel, and you want to reach across to kiss him. Leaning forward, you rock your hips against Izuku’s tongue.
You want to kiss him. You’re going to kiss him.
“Katsuki,” You breathe out, voice broken. You rut yourself against Izuku’s face again this time, harder, clit rubbing hard against his tongue. He lets out an appreciative little moan, that encourages you chase your own high.
Balancing on Izuku with one hand and leaning forward, you reach your other one around Katsuki’s neck.
You kiss him. Over Izuku’s cock at first then around. The realization of what’s happening makes him moan into your mouth. Finger tangled in the blonde hair, you kiss him with tongue. The gesture is utterly absent minded. It’s greedy. You can’t help but want everything all at once and being apart from him is making you agitated.
You make out around Izuku’s cock after you feel sorry enough. Fucking yourself into his mouth, hips rocking - you take it upon yourself to join Katsuki. Whenever Izuku feels it, his fingers dig into your legs. Little crescent shaped indentations appear from how hard he’s gripping, how much he’s whining against your cunt and sending waves through you.
You’re so turned on, it’s hard to clear your head. Riding Izuku’s face with complete disregard, helping Katsuki suck his cock. The both of you around his shaft, trying to kiss each other while pre-cum stains the exchange. Everything feels like it’s blurry, like a motion shot - a picture taken with a moving subject.
You’ve held out for so long - you don’t have a chance to warn Izuku as an orgasm approaches you a full, frightening speed. Raggedly, you cry out his name. Katsuki groans, stopping to fix his eyes on your face.
Izuku makes a sound of appreciation, helping you fuck onto his tongue in the rhythm you did before. You hold yourself just barely.
All at once, with everything fibre of your being - you find yourself cumming. It doesn’t feel like any orgasm you’ve ever had before, not ever in your life. Like a bow and arrow, your entire body goes taut before the string snaps hard. All the muscles in your body freeze then release, the tension replaced with an unending wave of euphoria.
It feels so fucking good. So good you can’t breathe.
“O—Oh, fuck. Fuuh, fuck.”
You cum and can’t stop. Even as you try to pry yourself off, Izuku holds you down. They both stop in their motions, glued to you. Something warm and desperate starts to rush. A warbled warning comes out of you.
“I-Izuku, it’s—”
All at once, you lean completely bacl another brief wave of release hits. You can feel it. Fuck, you’re—
“Holy shit, sweetheart.”
You reel all the way back as you squirt into Izuku’s mouth - left to listening to him swallow it down. An audible gulp sends your stomach in knots, and you nearly fall. If Izuku wasn’t holding you, you would’ve.
You collapse forward again, this time completely. Wiggling your hips away.
Izuku lets go of you. Gasping for a breath of air immediately as you pull away, you see his cock twitch. Your cheek pressed against his navel, you take a minute to collect yourself.
“Oh my god. You two are going to kill me.”
The room is almost completely silent.
“...Have you ever?”
“I didn’t even know I could do that.”
Muffled underneath you, you hear Izuku.
“Can I please get a warning the next time the two of you decide to go at me at once? I almost came.” Izuku whines. You share a look with Bakugou before breaking out into laughter.
“Be fucking grateful nerd, Fuck that was so hot. You have a mean streak, sweetheart. Pulling my fucking hair.”
You laugh shakily.
“You suck dick like a champ, Katsuki.”
He snorts.
“Shut up.”
For a minute, silence stretches between you. You squirm slightly, before frowning. Appreciative it’s comfortable despite the intense emotions left to linger.
“I was the only one who came.” You say thoughtfully.
“To be fair I almost did. I was flexing my muscles to stop.” Izuku admits. You giggle at the bit of honesty.
“Katsuki… wanna make you cum. Both of you, but it doesn’t feel fair,”
“I had fun, don’t worry. I dunno about the nerd, but I do wanna fuck you.”
Even after doing something so insanely sexual, a flush crawls up your spine.
“I..I want you to fuck me.”
“Wanna fuck you too,” Izuku says underneath you. You wiggle your hips, closing your eyes. You feel a little guilty, even suggesting it.
You flop onto your back, pulling away from Izuku. With your legs kicked up, you cover your face with your hands about what you want to suggest.
“I… uhm. The both of you could.. fuck me at once. If you wanted to.”
You’re almost too afraid of opening your eyes when you hear Katsuki pipe up.
“Holy shit, are you serious?”
You roll over, away from them. You try to anyway.
Before you know what’s happening, Izuku is sitting up. Like you weightless than piece of paper, he flips you over and grabs you until you’re situating his lap. Katsuki sits up, behind you. His chest is pressed against your spine. The two of them look at you hard but you keep covering your face.
Izuku swallows the spit in his mouth, starting at you.
“Do you mean.. like.. the both of us? At once?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“...You ever taken it in the ass before, sweetheart? Shit aint easy,” Katsuki says in something akin to earnesty.
You laugh warmly.
“In college.”
Katsuki snorts.
“Fucking really? With your dweeb ass boyfriend?”
“Kacchan.” Izuku tsks, though you’re sure they share the same sentiment. You nod.
“Anyway, I have. A-and it.. that way we’d all be super close, yknow?”
Katsuki groans.
“Fucking hell,”
“What Kacchan said.” Izuku says, blowing an amused puff of air through this nose.
“It’s not a big deal,” You grumble. Katsuki laughs.
“Hearing our newly acquired significant other say they want us to D.P. them is a big deal, idiot.”
“You’re so vulgar.”
Izuku smiles at you both fondly, absently reaching a hand out. He cups Katsuki’s face in his palm, looking down at you.
“We have to prep you really well. And if it’s too painful at any point, you have to tell me or Kacchan, Okay?”
“Mm…Okay. Love you, Izuku.”
He splutters. Katsuki clicks his teeth behind you.
“Love you too, Katsuki. Love you both so much.”
“We love you too,” Izuku says, alreacdy on the verge of tears. Katsuki laughs.
“What the nerd said.”
You relish in each others company for a while, soft and leaning into each other. After everyone’s caught their breath, Izuku pats your thigh.
“Do you have lube?” Izuku asks. You laugh, nodding.
“Top drawer of my vanity.”
Izuku pressed a kiss to your temple, getting up.
“Okay. Get comfortable and lay down, Kacchan, lay with her.”
“Not the boss of me, shitnerd.”
Despite himself, Izuku gets up to get your things and Katsuki does as he asks. You get yourself comfortable in the bed and your blonde boyfriend follows suit. He lays down close to you, turned slightly to face you.
He puts a hand out, running his middle finger along your jaw until your face is pointed to him. The proximity is comforting, your eyes following his lips. It’s an awfully tender gesture when he kisses you, softly pressing his lips to yours. You make a little sound of approval into his mouth, making him grin.
“Nervous?”
“A little. Two at once is a lot”
He snorts.
“I bet. Just relax yeah. We’ll start with the hard part. Should make it easier.”
You give him a little smile, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“You make anal sound very romantic.”
“You fucking saps are rubbing off on me. Do you know how you want us?”
You scrunch your nose in embarrassment. It’s not like you don’t have an answer.
“I want you inside and Izuku in.. y’know.”
He gives you a playful grin.
“You a masochist or something?”
“Shut up,” You say weakly, tucking your chin “Just seems like something he’d be into.”
“Guess you’re not wrong about that,”
Like you’ve conjured him from thin air, Izuku returns to your bed with a familiar bottle of lube and some condoms. His face looks unusually red as you watch him get back on the mattress, settling in between your spread legs.
“Izuku?”
He stops for a minute, startled.
“You… have so many sex toys.” He says. Your eyes widen before you break out into a laugh. You thought you’d be embarrassed if anyone ever saw but for some reason, you mostly find it funny.
“You serious nerd?”
“More than the two of us combined, Kacchan,”
Katsuki turns to look at you, leaning in to give you a giggly kiss.
“Nasty.”
“It slipped my mind, You found what you were looking for though, right?”
He gives you a nod, holding up a bottle of lube - nearly full. You ran out a couple of weeks ago.
Izuku puts a palm underneath your knee, your breath hitching. He looks at you seriously for a minute, thumb rubbing a circle into your skin. He gives you a look.
“Tell me if it hurts. I’m gonna go really slow, ‘kay? And Kacchan, keep her comfy.”
“Got a good idea for that,” Katsuki says. You look at him curiously.
“Keep your eyes on us, sweetheart.”
Nodding, you lift your legs a little higher. You hold yourself up, nails pressed into the back of your thighs. Just like Katsuki insists on, you keep your eyes on Izuku. He looks determined as he flicks the lid open. The lube is shiny as it pours onto his fingers in a thick, clear stream. Warming it up, he looks down. You’re conscious of his gaze, the way you’re so bare and exposed. You can feel how spread out you are because of the position.
Izuku rubs the ring of muscle first, before doing anything else. You squirm at the sensation. It’s not unpleasant, but it isn’t pleasant either. It just feels a little intrusive as he touches it, rubbing along the creased skin.
“Relax, love. Don’t think about it.”
You try to follow his words, so you turn your attention to Katsuki. He gives you a mild look before you feel his hand reach out, groping your tits before sliding his palm down your body, squeezing you gentle.
“When he pushes in, take a deep breath and exhale. And don’t worry about anything else.”
You nod, feeling him inch closer to you. He kisses you this time, soft. His hand keeps going lower and lower until you feel a finger against your puffy clit. It aches from his fingers. You try not to move.
“Good?” Katsuki asks.
“Little more to the left, please.”
He hums at the feedback and does as you ask, rubbing your clit just enough to take your mind off of everything. You find yourself relaxing involuntarily from the pleasure. While your head is busied with it, he kisses you. Engages you in making out, taking time to suck on your tongue in the way he’s learned you like. It’s a messy kiss, too drooly than you think someone like him would be comfortable with.
But the contact feels good, feels nice. Your pussy responds to each of his gestures noticably, a dull throb growing inside from the ache. You want to be fucked, and you’d take it in whatever way you can have.
“Don’t squirm, baby.” Katsuki says, pulling away from you in a pant.
“Hard,” You say simply. He laugh, biting the roundest part of your cheek.
“Sooner you’re prepped, sooner we can fuck you.”
“Gonna push in okay? Take a deep breath.”
You nod. Katsuki keeps you steady, breathing with you as you feel Izuku push in his middle finger in. It’s a just barely there sensation. You’re expecting some pain, but there’s nothing more than a dull sense of discomfort. You let out a long, deep breath, until you feel him reach the first knuckle. The prep is relatively uninteresting, but you can feel a stretch. A mild, sensitive feeling of invasion.
But it feels.. dirty? Forbidden, somehow and that’s making your breath hitch. The both of them are staring so hard at you. Katsuki keeps rubbing your pussy to keep you at bay. You hiccup.
“Okay?”
You nod.
“Doesn’t hurt. Just feels… funny.” You say. Izuku breathes a sigh before he very slow pulls the finger out of you. Your heart pulses, a sense of relief when he takes it out that leaves you curious. Your eyes widen. Katsuki takes notice of your expression.
“Feels nice?”
“Y-Yeah.”
Izuku goes a little faster this time, a little harder. When the motion is fluid, he’s careful to add another finger. You feel lube drip down onto your ass, the thick and sticky sensation. Katsuki leans into you.
“Deep breath,”
You listen, breathing deep as another finger joins him. This time the stretch is more noticeable. Izuku leans forward, kissing your knee where you’re holding it up.
“Pretty little hole,” Izuku muses. Your eyes go wide from embarrassment when you hear Katsuki snicker at you. Izuku doesn’t stop his mumbling, fixed on how your fingers suck him in “Can’t wait to fuck you.”
Lost in a haze, his eyes flick up to you with a smile. It’s so disarming it startles you. You lean back.
“Okay, baby?”
“You’re s-so dangerous.”
He frowns.
“Why do you say that?”
Katsuki scoffs above you, making you feel marginally better. You take another breath as he repeats the motions of before, slowly fucking into you. You feel your ass give as you get comfortable, your body no longer instinctively resisting the sensation. You feel yourself stretch and stretch and stretch, but it doesn’t feel the same as being torn open. There’s something strangely familiar about the gesture.
Katsuki touches you through it. Teases your clit with his fingers and brings you to the edge, always stopping before you can cum. Despite your protest, you get the feeling it’s to help you cum while you’re getting fucked but not before then. You let out soft little moans of pleasure and the way Izuku is starting to fuck you open on his fingers is finally starting to feel like something besides funny.
You look down at Izuku, who gives you a half smile. Something deep in you aches, it’s a sensation you haven’t felt in a long time. Bone-deep desire to be fucked and filled and close together leaves you oddly emotionaly.
“You, okay? Think you’re ready?”
You feel yourself squirm against Katsuki’s hand, who’s busied himself by cupping your pussy with his palm.
“I’m ready. Want you in my ass, and Katsuki in me,” You tell him. His eyes widen before he lets an involuntary groan. Sometimes his predictability is charming in it’s own way.
“Yeah.. yeah. Then let Kacchan get underneath you, and I’ll get on top. Sound okay?”
“Mm,”
It takes a minute to switch positions again but eventually you end up where you want. Katsuki lays comfortably on the mattress, head propped up on some pillows. Rubbing his cock with one hand lazily, he gives you smirk.
“Hop on?”
“Oh fuck you,”
A laugh bubbles out of you as you crawl ontop of him, throwing your legs on either side of his hips. You hover over his cock, getting comfortable as you feel his hands grab your ass and squeeze, pulling them apart without shame. He’s got the same look as always, a cocky looking smile as he pivots his hips and rubs the head of his cock against your folds. Shuddering, you wrap your hand around the base.
“Sure you don’t need prep?”
You nod your head, biting your lip as you guide the head of his cock down a little lower. You feel Izuku behind you.
“No condom?”
“Wanna feel it.” You reply. Katsuki groans under as you guide the head to your entrance. You take a deep breath as you start to sink yourself on it. Going as slow as possible to make sure it doesn’t hurt, Katsuki does a hard hiss underneath you. His head tilts back, mouth open in loud moan. You feel his cock twitch inside of you as you finally push yourself to the last inch.
When you bottom out you sigh, the familiar and pleasant sensation starting to ensnare you. Eyes heavy, you look at Katsuki who looks like he’s having a hard time keeping his head above water. Your hands go on his chest.
“Katsuki?”
“I’ve never—holy shit—”
“You’ve never done it like this?”
“Bakugou lost his virginity to Kirishima and I lost mine to Ochako. So he’s never…”
Unable to help your shock, an idea pops into your head as you lean forward. He feels so fucking good. He’s got a curve just upright that sits nicely inside of you, keeps you full and touches you in all the right ways. Beneath you he’s trembling, unable to shake the feeling.
“Katsuki,” You purr, breathy as you lift your hips up. “Does that feel good?”
“H-Holy fuck. Fuck, baby—you’re so wet. Feels like you’re gonna melt me,”
With a little effort, you do an intentional squeeze around him. His eyes shoot open, gasping for air.
“D-Don’t—You little shit. Squeezing me like that, stupid brat.”
He holds your hips down where you stop, giving you a look that’s only half angry.
“I’m just making you feel good.” You maintain. His hand comes down on your ass hard, making you laugh.
“You can make me feel good without trying to milk me, fucksake. Slow down and let Izuku in,”
You give him smile, leaning forward. Katsuki gets what you’re trying to do almost immediately. His hands squeeze your ass again, this time spreading you apart intentionally. You can only see from the corner of your eye because you’re squished into Katsuki’s chest - bare chest on his. But Izuku shoots off a deep, guttural groan as Katsuki offers him a smile. You feel his chin atop your head.
“Don’t make her wait long, dweeb.”
It happens just like that. Izuku approaches you, cock in hand and situates behind the two of you. You take in a deep breath when you feel the tip protruding against your hole. Everything… halts. Like the sound of something, a faint quiet before everything hits the ground running. You’re already stretched, already full with cock. Your head can’t wrap around taking anymore but still, Izuku persists. He grabs you with great strain, and pushes his cock into the tight ring with a choked cry.
All three of you react to the feeling. He’s not even all the way in, but the deep sensation and pressure has you reeling already. Katsuki lets out a yelp. The both of them are grabbing you, anchoring themselves as Izuku pushes himself just barely inside. A tight fit wouldn’t even begging to describe it. You feel plugged up completely, from the inside.
“C-Can I…? Can I please—”
“Move, Izuku, move.”
And he does. He does it slowly, at an awfully slow pace like he’s trying to keep you all the way together. Brain full of static, you’re absolutely fucking astounded. He pushes in a little more, and the heavy weight of his cock feels like it’s sinking. You can feel his cock against Katsuki’s inside of you. They both feel it at the same time because underneath Katsuki is twitching. Letting out pants, face strained and absolutely fucking out of it.
The room is filled with a wet, sticky sort of noise as Izuku moves himself. He checks in, pushes when you confirm, and does it for what feels like ages until you feel his navel against you. He’s inside of you, completely inside of you. You feel… complete. It’s so fucking unbelievable. It feels like being torn apart, ripped in half. A sensation you couldn’t imagine existing.
All while feeling incredible. It’s deep enough to push the air out of you, out of your lungs in a ragged breath. Your body goes limp, sweaty between the two of them.
“Baby, baby, you feel incredible and K-Kacchan, can f-feel Kacchan in, Kacchan’s cock you, feels so good, love you both, love you so much—wanna move, can I? Can I move baby, need to—”
“Fuck me,”
Like they do everything, they work together in sync so seamlessly in breaks you. Katsuki gives Izuku room to thrust first, letting him control the pace to make sure you’re not hurt. The feeling of his big cock, fucking your ass when you’re already so hopelessly full, is making your body feel completely limp. Every single nerve of pleasure that could be touched or toyed with is being rubbed against. Pleasured from the inside out, your mouth is fallen open in a silent scream.
You’re all so close. You’re face is tucked into Katsuki’s neck where you can hear his every breath or moan or cry. Izuku is draped over you, his chin over your shoulder - mouth against your neck and licking the sweat off of your skin. One of your hands is on Katsuki’s chest, and the other is reaching around for Izuku - for something of him to hold onto. Your vision is blurry, and the world outside is finally starting to sink into the night.
Room painted in an vibrant orange daylight, you’re soaked in pleasure that feels hedonistic. The violent waves of pleasure leave you feeling like kindling - the thing that makes fires burn. The first time you cum from this, you don’t register it completely. The bliss of the experience isn’t concentrated. You feel the dull throb of desire - starting from the top of your head to the soles of your feet.
You cum, the first time, without any intention. The forces around make it happen and the way you squeeze makes both men have to stop completely as you ride out your high - the feeling of it overshadows your first orgasm.
It’s an out-of-body experience. You start to see your vision go white, and when you’re finished - you feel the two of them start to fuck you again. This time it’s slower, more deliberate as they try to drag the feeling out.
Izuku wraps a hand around your waist, sticks between your body and Katsukis. You feel his fingers on your clit, wincing. His voice is soothing, gentle.
“I love you. Want us all to cum together. I love you so much. We’re so close. One more, okay? Just one more.”
“I love you, sweetheart. Love you too, nerd. Give us one more. Together?”
You don’t know what it is. It’s a weird fucking time to get all emotional, all worked up into nothing. Still, you find yourself nodding. It’s a strange time to think you’re so in love but you’re so worked up, so blissful like you’re being cradled by the golden threads of the sun. Warm all over your body in as much measure as you’re burning with lust. The feeling of their bodies, of Katuski placing kisses on your skin and Izuku pressing himself to your cheek.
Izuku panics when you cry, but you reassure him that you’re fine. And you are fine, completely and utterly fine. There’s just something terrifying about being loved at such a magnitude - being able to do something like this at all without any pretense or fear. The mutual sensation of trust and all the pleasure.
Everything that happened, the life you’ve lived so far that once felt blurry comes to you with clarity. Like clear water, your love appears in front of your eyes, and it appears clear. It was never worthless. Never meaningless. Always meant to be, and always purposeful. The two of them have loved you with so much intention since the beginning, and it’s taken this long to take it in. To realize.
With a shaky, soft voice - you warn them.
“G-gonna cum.”
You let go this time, pure relief running through. A few more short thrusts have them both following suit. Feeling them twitch inside of you at the same time makes your heart feel strangely full. It’s all a little stupid, but when the adrenaline starts to settle - you can’t help but smile.
The room is completely dark as the three of you lay together in the silent aftermath. Your eyes feel heavy as you fall forward.
__
You don’t wake up till the next morning.
It’s a little disorienting, truthfully. The sun isn’t out, instead the day is wrapped by comfortable clouds and cool rainfall. You don’t even know the time as you finally get yourself up - though you’re both naked and clean.
Sitting up in your bed, memories of last night return to you swiftly. Your lower back throbs painfully. You laugh, putting your hand on it while you rub your eyes. Looking around your room, you find a stack of clothes with a note on top.
“In the kitchen. Get dressed and come join us.” Written in Katsuki’s handwriting.
Standing up to stretch, you rub the remaining tired out of your vision and throw out what clothes have been set for you before unlocking your door and stepping out into the living room.
You’re surprised to find the both of them still there. Izuku is pouring cat food for Ganache, while Katsuki is at the stove making something that smells nice though you aren’t sure what it is.
You hear Izuku first. He turns around to find you dressed, his face breaking out into a smile. Without a warning, he picks you up and spins you around in his arms. You let out a squeal.
“Ah, Izuku! Wait, I haven’t brushed my teeth,”
“Don’t care. Kiss! Kiss!”
You can’t help but relent to him as he carries you effortlessly in his arms. He places kisses all over your neck and face before kissing you on the lips. You get comfortable against him, surprised by how sturdy it is. He rubs his face against you as he carries you on one arm, dragging you to Katsuki who looks at you a little unamused.
You lean over to kiss him on the lips which he returns with soft smile.
“You fucking idiots better sit down to eat. Swear to god.”
Instead of answering, you kiss him one more time. He rolls his eyes but returns the gesture before busying himself back with the food.
Izuku eases you on the counter instead of either you going back to sit. He stands between your legs.
“Thanks for making breakfast. What time is it?”
“11:32,”
Your eyes widen immediately, as you scramble up.
“Shit, I have work today.”
Izuku stops you, looking sheepish.
“No you don’t.” He says, looking away.
“Huh?”
Katsuki grins, flipping over the rolled egg with a self-satisifed laugh,
“Sometimes,” He starts, pouring more egg into the pan “Being a Pro-Hero has it’s perks.”
You immediately start into a fit of laughter, leaning forward to nuzzle into Izuku’s chest.
“And you two?”
Izuku’s voice reverberates.
“Called in some favors. Thought it’d be good to spend a day together.”
You feel like you’re in one long dream. After everything. There’s still so much to talk about but you let yourself ride the high. Contented, you sigh, wrapping your arms around Izuku and closing your eyes.
“I think so too.”
#bkdk x reader#bakugou x reader#deku x reader#bnha x reader#bnha smut#bakugou smut#deku smut#writing tag
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Worship At My Altar
Deity Soap x Retired vet Ghost AU
Warnings: Implied suicide attempts, Depression, References to Ghost's backstory.
Ghost trudged through the quaint convenience store in the small, nowhere town he’d found himself in, filling the worn basket that he’d grabbed on the way in with nonperishable foods that he could carry with him on his motorcycle. He’d been getting low on funds, so if he wanted to have enough to get a decent offering for the temple, he couldn’t afford to be as picky as he normally would be while shopping and instead settled for items like canned ravioli and spam for himself.
He’d used the majority of the cash that he had on hand to get as far away from the overwhelming bustle of cities as possible. He didn’t want to use the card that he’d been issued by the government, the little piece of plastic seeming to mock him even from where it was buried deep within his duffel, wrapped up in an old sweatshirt that he’d had since his days as a fresh-faced recruit.
He set the can of soup that he’d been examining into his basket, adding to his meager collection of food before moving on to the next aisle. He was considering the various cups of cheap ramen noodles, wondering if it even mattered since it all tasted like shit regardless, when someone rushed past him.
His gaze darted away from the display and toward the flash of movement, his hand twitching toward a sidearm that he no longer carried as he located who it was that had passed him.
The tension that had coiled in his frame relaxed slightly when he realized that it was just an energetic kid, the small boy staring excitedly at the display of candy that was further down the aisle.
Ghost watched as the child began wringing his little fingers together as his wide eyes roamed over the large variety of candy that the store offered instead of just grabbing everything in sight, which was a surprising display of restraint from someone so young.
Ghost resisted the urge to flinch when the boy finally made his selection, one of his small hands abruptly darting out to snatch a bag of gummy bears off the rack before pivoting in order to walk back the way he had come, the kid pausing when he finally noticed that he had an audience.
He looked uncertain for a moment, probably unsure of how to feel about Ghost’s masked face and intimidating stature, before he seemed to shake himself out of his reservations and smiled up at Ghost, revealing the fact that he was missing one of his front teeth.
He squeezed past Ghost’s large form with a giggle, Ghost following him with his eyes until the kid reached the end of the aisle and moved out of view. Ghost took a few controlled breaths, trying to ignore how the parts of his body where the kid involuntarily brushed up against him crawled uncomfortably, reminding him of claustrophobic boxes and the sharp pain of a scorpion's sting.
Ghost forced his feet to start moving, intent on going to the checkout since he wanted to visit the temple before it was closed to the public, but he hesitated in front of the same display of candy that had entranced the child, blinking at the colorful packaging.
His dark eyes scanned over the various sugary treats, debating whether or not to buy some with his already scant funds, before he caved with a sigh and reached out in order to grab a bag of chocolate, tossing it into the basket before he could talk himself out of it.
Thankfully, the teenage cashier that scanned his things didn’t seem too bothered by his intimidating appearance, the girl too focused on getting Ghost checked out as fast as possible so that she could go back to boredly sketching on the piece of blank receipt paper that she had sitting next to the register to stare at the scarring on his face that wasn’t covered by the mask he was wearing, like most civilians that he encountered in public did.
He climbed onto his bike and pulled his black helmet over his head, feeling the uncomfortable tightness in his chest ease now that his face was hidden behind the tinted visor, before he took his groceries out of the cheap, plastic bags that the store used and began meticulously packing them away in his saddle bags, separating them based on whether it was for him or for his offering.
Once he was finished, he started the bike with a loud rumble, the engine revving as he reversed out of the parking space and floored it out of the lot, he would have to speed if he wanted to get to his destination in time to set up.
_____
Ghost wasted no time parking the bike and climbing off, impatiently yanking his helmet off and collecting the things he needed before he trotted up the stone staircase and into the looming temple, quickly passing the various priests and lingering townspeople without so much as a second glance in his haste to reach the altar.
A wave of familiar warmth greeted him the moment that he stepped into the room, Ghost taking note of the subtle changes that had been made to the decor in the altar room since his last visit, the red and gold color scheme making the space feel welcoming and cozy.
He carefully lowered himself to his knees in front of the marble platform that the statue sat atop of, Ghost setting his bag of offerings next to him before looking up at the deity that he’d been introduced to shortly after arriving to the small town. It had been immediately obvious to Ghost -even at his very first visit- that the statue had clearly been made with the utmost care, every cut reverent, every curve and divot of muscle lovingly sculpted.
Even the drape of the cloth over the statue’s hips was so flawlessly crafted that, if he reached out and touched it, he was almost convinced that he would feel soft cloth underneath his fingers instead of cool marble.
Ghost allowed his eyes to take in the bulge of muscle, the v of the man’s hips that disappeared beneath the flowing fabric that was wrapped artfully around him. His hands twitched with the urge to trace the veins that crawled across thick biceps and calloused hands, to rake through the thick line of hair at the top of the man’s head, to brush a thumb across his knowing, smug grin.
The man was undeniably beautiful.
Ghost managed to pry his gaze off of the statue in favor of silently pulling the things he’d brought with him out of his bag in order to set them onto the packed stone platform at the man’s bare feet, placing his own offering among the flowers, jewelry, money, candles and bottles of expensive amber liquor that others had left during their own visit.
Ghost meticulously put down ten candles, one for each member of the 141, and the last four for his family. He pulled out a lighter and brought the flame down to the wicks one at a time, mentally recalling the names and faces of those he cared for as he lit the corresponding candle for each person until he had reached the last one.
He took a moment to stare at the flickering flames before forcefully shaking himself out of his daze and setting a bottle of his favorite bourbon in the center of the circle of candles as well as two pretty blue glass bowls that he’d found while at the thrift shop the other day since they were the same shade that the deity’s eyes were.
Or at least what color he believed they were. During his last visit, a painting that someone had left on the altar as an offering in an impressive display of artistic skill had caught his attention, the artist having decided to depict the man with eyes that were such a vibrant blue that they looked like they were glowing, which Ghost thought was befitting of the deity.
He filled the larger bowl with a couple things that he had collected with the intent to bring to the altar. Like the smooth stone that he’d taken from the lake earlier that week, when he had contemplated wading into the crystalline water until it swallowed him up but ultimately decided against it, or the little wooden penguin figurine that he’d spent the week carving, having picked up the habit of whittling a new animal to give the statue every visit.
He then dropped a black skull keychain that he’d spotted at a gas station a few towns over, the bleached skull of a small bird, and the inspirational quote that his therapist had him write on a notecard into the big bowl before propping up the letter that he got from Roach -which mentioned how he was getting sent on a mission with Gaz and Price- behind the bowl in order to ask for protection for the mad cunts.
Ghost finished off the offering by fussing with the small bowl’s placement until he was satisfied before taking the bag of chocolate he’d bought earlier and ripping it open in order to dump the contents into the bowl. He ran a hand over the individually wrapped candies until the pile looked a little less messy before pulling his hand away and letting it rest against his thigh.
He’d come a long way since the first time he’d stopped by the temple, that initial visit having been fueled by a mix of sleep deprivation, desperation and alcohol. The only offering that he had brought with him that time had been the bullet that he’d loaded and unloaded from his firearm so many times since being discharged from the military that the motion was now practically muscle memory.
He’d wanted to get rid of the bullet and the weakness that it represented and figured that the altar of a God he didn’t believe in would be the perfect solution, though he couldn’t have accounted for how the calm atmosphere of the altar room and the kind eyes of the statue staring down at him with a soft, inviting smile kept him coming back for more, chasing that feeling of peace he only got from being in the room.
“I-” Ghost paused, internally wincing at how loud his rough voice seemed in the otherwise silent room, swallowing hard as he ignored how stupid he felt talking to a fucking statue, and continued. “I know it’s not anything extravagant, I don’t have a lot to offer…”
Ghost licked his chapped lips as he trailed off, finally glancing up from the flickering candles enveloping his small pile of gifts to gaze up at the man towering over him, unable to shake the feeling that the statue was looking directly at him despite the fact that it had been carved specifically to look down at it’s devout worshipers. The amused eyes of the man felt like encouragement, the statue's playful gaze easing Ghost's insecurities and helping the tense line of his shoulders relax.
“But you’re already far too spoiled considering the fact that you do fuck all, so I think that you’ll be okay.” Ghost finished with a wide grin that pulled at the various scars on his face, the bite taken out of his words by the soft chuckle that followed the quip as he reached out to condescendingly pat an unoccupied portion of the stone altar, his hand lingering for a moment longer than strictly necessary before he pulled away and pushed to his feet with a grunt, various old aches and pains making themselves known after kneeling for so long.
Ghost picked up his bag and made for the archway leading out of the room, sparing one last glance back at the benevolent statue before finally turning away and moving through the threshold and out of view, oblivious to the subtle sound of shifting stone as the statue’s smile seemed to briefly widen, lips parting to show a flash of perfectly straight teeth.
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mw2#cod mw22#call of duty modern warfare 3#cod mw3#cod mw23#alternate universe#soapghost au#god soap#deity soap#soap is smitten#veteran ghost#ex military ghost#Ghost's tragic backstory#'09 backstory#ghost x soap#ghostsoap#soapghost#soap x ghost#john mactavish#simon riley
62 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
