#GOD. ripping my lungs out and beating myself over the head with them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

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“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier.

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears.

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock.

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway.

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser.

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you.

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information.

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him.

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you.

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground.

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor.

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too.

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice.

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed.

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours.

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit.

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat.

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules.

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock.

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you.

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine.

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag.

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all.

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss.

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched.

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality.

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you.

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

3K notes · View notes

subbykboys · 3 years

Text

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot.

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house).

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious.

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature,

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away.

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette.

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.”

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly.

He only rolled his eyes.

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch.

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—”

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark.

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment.

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face.

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt.

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today.

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.”

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it.

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate.

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you.

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?”

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight.

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable.

Oh, he’s cute.

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.”

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth.

Really cute.

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.”

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.”

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room.

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him.

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.”

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair.

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind.

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra.

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that.

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that.

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not.

“Ah— Mark?”

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.”

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived.

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room.

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door.

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door.

Then he froze.

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened.

But it didn’t.

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on.

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial.

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction.

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t.

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting.

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!”

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him.

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato.

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you.

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating.

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids.

He was doomed.

And he still needed to pee.

Damnit.

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans.

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place.

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?”

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.”

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone.

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away.

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one.

“Taeyong.”

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes.

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard.

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue.

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare.

“Perfect. Then we can share.”

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath.

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket.

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived.

“Movie?” Haechan suggested.

You perked. “I know a good one.”

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.”

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction.

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!”

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch.

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness.

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen.

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat.

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.”

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now.

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised.

Now, was not one of those times.

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position.

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers.

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face.

Fuck, he’s too adorable.

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon.

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable.

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee.

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers.

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson.

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax.

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves.

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv.

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more.

“Is this alright?”

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out.

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled.

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious.

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him.

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t.

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering.

But even if it was—

It felt too damn good.

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out.

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands.

But shit was it tempting.

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him.

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight…

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap.

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—”

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire.

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered.

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention.

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway.

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins.

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face.

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.”

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head.

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied.

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.”

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.”

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him.

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip.

God he’s adorable.

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely.

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?”

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened.

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent…

“Have you ever been touched before?”

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs.

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen.

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh?

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.”

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist.

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.”

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod.

“Good boy.”

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers.

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...”

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable.

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm.

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on.

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn.

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples.

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins.

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.”

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you.

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?”

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside.

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds.

But you weren’t finished yet.

Not by a long shot.

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips.

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were.

“O– oh—”

“Is this alright?”

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…”

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…”

“Just?”

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health…

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.”

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust.

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him.

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally.

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?”

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall.

“Wanna feel it again?”

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.”

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that.

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible…

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet.

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out.

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat.

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be.

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body.

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight.

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright.

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder.

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued.

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased.

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?”

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.”

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.”

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles…

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room.

“Uh… foods here.”

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans.

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck.

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed.

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners?

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txciaz · 3 years

Text

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #help idk what im doing

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kirishoshego · 3 years

Text

Moneypulated PT.2//Aizawa

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY!!!

Special thanks to Emmie for creating this awesome S&M event and letting me participate and those who requested a part two of my first Aizawa piece x

If you like Sadism and Masochism, BNHA; AOT and Haikyuu the event is definitely for you :)

Pairing: Sadist!Mob-Boss!Dom!Aizawa x Masochist!Sub!femreader Words:3.2+

Summary: When your life is threatened Aizawa realized just how important you are to him. A small fight leaves you bend over the couch, cross eyes and leads to him admitting his feelings for you.

TW: slight mention of torture (a bit more at the end), s&m, controlling Aizawa, calling him sir, knife play (no blood), slight ass and nipple play, orgasm denial, slight oral, biting, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, slight bit of degration and teasing

Three month, three weeks and three days. That’s how long it took you to develop positive feelings for him. He gave you everything, but privacy, something you had to learn rather quick because that man was strong and even though he doesn’t look like it, heavy. You told him no twice. The first time left you bruised for at least three days, fucked into oblivion. The second time left you sobbing from his impact play. You hated how little you could control your body, dripping wet before he slipped into you. Something he would love to taunt you with. „Always so quiet and modest. Yet here you are begging to be fucked by a criminal after he spanked you blue and green. Don’t tell me you like that. Tsk, dirty girl,“ he told you with a slight smirk on his face, one hand having a strong hold in your hair to hold you up so he could look at you. The other one pinched and played with clit, milking orgasm after orgasm.

He knew how to work his charm, knew how to impress you. Listened, remembered basically every detail about you. Aizawa wanted to know everything about you, from childhood memories to teenage drama to your goals and dreams. Of course he was genially interested in you, after all he wanted you at his side, but it was also helpful to know one or too secrets. Just in case. It was understandable that he was a bit shocked and also even more alarmed when Shota noticed how fast you adapted to the captive state of yours. There was no attempt of you running away, either because you knew it wouldn’t work with guards everywhere around you, or because you were afraid. So he tested it out. Gave you a car, told you to go enjoy yourself, get pampered for a surprise he had prepared.

First thing you did was getting new underwear because as much as you… appreciated him buying it for you you would like to have a few comfortable pieces that cover more than 3 inches of your skin. You stopped to get a nice drink at a small restaurant, got a small snack before you ended up buying four new plants. A smile creeped up on his face when his phone signaled him he got a new message from Shinso. Attached to it was a picture of you smiling while picking up the most sad looking flower he had ever seen.

It happened while driving back. You realized happiness started to form in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again. Excitement about showing him what you had bought. How could you be happy? After how he treated you in front of so many men, so many strangers. But then again he took care of a man who had sold you for his addiction. You knew he was in the hospital right now, after trying to enter the casino again. At first you thought he was there to get you, to show at least some sort of remorse. Even though their boss told them not to tell you those details Denki let it slip that Kirishima caught him gambling. With that your last string of attachment ripped apart. It wasn’t hard to choose between being left alone with nothing or a slightly questionable man who (as much as you would like to deny it) made you feel good, save and wanted.

That day was the first time he took you to the casino with him, introduced you to a part of his world. The one that was less brutal. He wouldn’t not let you see someone getting tortured. But he knew how gruesome it can get and even though he wouldn’t tell anyone, he threw up after his first time, felt sick the first five. It just made it so much easier to get people to talk. Or make them stop. Sometimes they need to be taught a lesson or too to not put their noses in his businesses.

Rumors started to spread around fast after your first appearance. Shota Aizawa has a trophy wife. Something that made him weak. A pretty one on top of that and she was supposed to be his little lucky charm. Every table you appeared at, the house would win. You didn’t play yourself, you only sat besides your... Well, besides the mob boss himself.

There was no explanation for it really, it wasn’t luck per se. It was math. Some liked math in school, some didn’t. What you liked more though was winning. And games like these were hard to predict, but not impossible. Another aspect were their faces. Everyone focused on their face and those of others, tried to keep cool while detecting a mistake of others that they forgot about other limbs. Some tapped their fingers against the table or cards, others would play with their drink, swirling the ice cubes around without touching it. Some bounced their legs, crossed them, scratched them. Once you caught their mistake it was over for them.

While some got scared because of it, others seemed to find a challenge in it. They wanted to beat you. How could you know that one night you will have the son of another mob boss on the table? He was supposed to be a spy, simply collect information about you and leave. But the opportunity to beat you and therefor Aizawa was too alluring. How could he know that he will lose almost 33 Million yen in one night? And with those 33 Million yen came a big target right on your back.

In less than 24 hours a collection of pictures and informations about you was delivered to Peony. In less than 24 hours your world was turned upside down yet again. The freedom you were given was taken away in order to protect you. His worry for you was understandable but when he decided to have Bakugo and Kirishima on your heels 24/7 you had enough.

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

„I’m inside the house! The house has walls almost thrice as high as Kirishima’s 7 foot frame, a massive garden with six well trained guard dogs running around. You have the best alarm system there is on the market and still I’m not even allowed to use the bathroom in private. It’s humiliating,“ you explained to him angrily. „I would rather humiliate you than pick up your dead body limp by limp,“ he tried reasoning. „Do you even hear yourself? How can you say something like that? Do you not trust your men? I can defend myself! Eijiro has-„ suddenly you went quiet, realizing too late what gravitating mistake you just that you had just exposed yourself.

„Eijiro has what? Continue doll. I‘m all ears,“ he leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his in a black shirt clad chest. „We shouldn‘t be changing the subject now. I need-," „What you need is to tell me what Kirishima did,“ you wouldn‘t be so on edge if he yelled at you, screaming at the top of his lungs, slam his hand on the desk, anything. Instead he was dangerously calm, collected, ready for you to make the next step. Knowing you were trapped like a small mouse between a wall and an awaiting cat, only playing with its fear.

„I will tell you if you promise me he isn‘t going to suffer any consequences. He had no ill intentions,“ you started explaining, making a step forward and trying to look as timid as possible so he will show mercy. „You actually think you‘re in a position to negotiate? Oh darling, it is breaking my heart a tiny bit to see you’re underestimating me,“ he faked a pained expression before closing the gab between the two of you.

You knew better than to relax yourself into his touch as he caressed your cheek, planting a small kiss on your forehead.

„Now,“ Aizawa stood behind you within a second, your wrists in his hand behind your back, something cold against your neck. „Please continue before I lose the small amount of patience that is left inside of me,” he sounded threatening, his voice deep and raspy, mouth dangerously close to your ear lobe. The knife near your aorta send adrenaline through your whole body, your pussy pulsing as you caught sight of your current position in his window.

You noticed his eyes wandering over the curves of your body, as the sound heavy breathing hit your ear. It seems like he was holding back, but be the looks of it all he wanted to do was drag the knife along your clothes and watch it drop to the floor. It wasn’t on purpose, more or less, but your hand brushed against his crotch, hearing him hiss as you touched his hard length for a mere second. The grip on the red handle tightened, pulling your body into his and leading your hand back to his crotch.

Eyes met in the window as he licked his lips. He tilted your head back slightly with the tip of the sharp blade, kissing the spot behind your ear.

„Sorry kitten, but this isn’t the time to play,“ he whispered into your ear while you started massaging him through his suit pants. A smirk appeared on your face as you agreed with him ‚oh I know, sir‘ you basically purred. Within seconds you pulled yourself away from him with your whole strength, bowing as he went to grab your hair and kicking back into his stomach as you turned which send him to the floor as he stumbled. Grabbing the knife from his hand and dropping onto his hips as you held the knife to his throat.

„Eijiro taught me how to defend myself, so I don’t have creepy old men all over me,“ you told him, a sudden wisp of a moan leaving your throat as he grabbed your hips and ground his pelvis against yours. „I didn’t know I’m a creepy old man. Wasn’t it just yesterday that you begged me to stuff you? And wasn’t it you that screamed my name so the whole house could hear who fucks you ‚like a god‘? Hm… I must confuse you with someone else that came cross eyed all over me considering I don’t play with brats,“ as the last word left his mouth he flipped you around, turning you so your stomach was flat against the freshly cleaned floor, hand in between your shoulder blades to hold you down.

He thanked the sun for shining so brightly and the clouds for not appearing, considering it lead to you dressed in the shortest little sundress you could find in your closet. The color suited you so damn well and the dress made it so easy for him to uncover your ass. His hungry eyes starred at it in its full glory, feeling his rock hard cock to twitch in his pants.

The blade was dragged across your skin and he could have fucked you right then and there as he noticed how you tried to clench your legs, goose bumps appearing on your skin. „Don’t tell me you enjoy this, such a dirty girl,“ he stopped right at the hem of your underwear, dragging the flat side across your clit and earning another moan of yours. He chuckled, „I see.“

Suddenly the blade was back at your throat, his other hand massaging your ass. „If you try to move or forget to thank me I might have to use the sharp side next time and we don’t want that do we doll?“ Shota asked you, the tip slightly pressed onto your sweet spot as you took to long to reply for his liking. „No sir,“ your voice was slightly shaky as the anticipation inside of you grew. „Not so tough anymore, thought so,“ he loved your submissive state, every time he thought he went too far you were there dripping wet for him.

Without a warning his hand came down hard on your ass, massaging your cheek before disappearing again. „Thank you sir,“ you moaned, the next slap delivered right after. „Thank you sir,“ you said again, feeling our wetness slowly seeping through the thin fabric covering your cunt. Every once in a while he would dip his fingers between your folds, playing with your clit until you’re about to cum, only to stop and spank you again.

Once your ass was a bright red and noticeable handprints adorned your flesh he decided he had enough. The last few thank you’s gave away that you started crying softly, maybe slightly caused by the pain, but more at fault definitely were the denied orgasms.

„Had time to overthink your statement from earlier?“ Aizawa went down to your ass, pushing your panties to the side and dragging his tongue across your slit, dipping inside for a second to collect some of your juice. Kisses were plastered across your abused skin, bitting down onto it to hear you moan again.

„I give you ten seconds to go over to my couch, get undressed and bend over it,“ if you weren’t so incredibly needy right now you might even had begged for some more spanks.

You could hear him get undressed as you did the same, back turned to him to allow him a nice view on your behind.

You could feel his presence even before he touched you, the smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat hitting your nose. Rough hands collided with your ass once more, before wandering up your back, one finding its way into your hair, the other one holding his thick girth in his hand and dragging it from your clit to your hole. You whined as you noticed him going back down again with his tip, which lead to him plunging into your throbbing pussy all at once. Curses tumbled from the both of you, finally getting what you wanted.

Shota pulled you up by your hair, allowing his hand to play with chest. Cold metal came in contact with your nipples and only now did you realize that he had brought the knife with him. It took maybe a minute for your first orgasm to hit, considering the ones you were denied earlier had you on edge already. „Done already kitten? Does that mean you want me to stop?“ He knew it meant everything but. It’s just, having you beg for more gets him every time and he can’t deny how powerful it made him feel, which he needed now more than ever. „No, fuck. Please sir, need mo-oh, more,“ a moan cut through you as a single thrust hit your g-spot directly.

„Take it then,“ he pulled you down with him on the couch, his back against the backrest as you straddled his legs. Do to the new position his cock was even deeper than before and you were shaking with almost every bounce as you went up and down on him. Black eyes wandered from your face to your tits to your cunt, watching him disappear inside of you over and over again. Aizawa’s arms wandered from its resting place back to your body, one going to your back, the other one staying in the front.

You hissed, eyes growing wide as you felt rough fingers circling your puckering hole, while the other ones drew lazy patterns on your clit. Every now and then he would meet your movements, burying himself even deeper inside of you. By now you were a moaning mess, clenching around him as you could feel another knot building up in the pit of your stomach. „It’s alright, I got you. You can cum, I know you want to,“ Shota groaned, picking up the speed of his fingers and watching in pure bliss as you came undone once again, slowing down and pulling you into a deep kiss.

As you went to get up from him, your body now sensitive he grabbed your hips, pushing you down again. „Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you get to control when we’re done,“ he said, delivering a harsh slip to the left side of your tits, before grabbing your throat and pushing you down into the mating press. „You have to remember your place doll. I get decide when we’re finished and I’m not done yet,“ he grunted, snapping his hips as the hand around you held you in place firmly. A warning slap heated up your tears stained cheek when you tried to wiggle away from him and he felt you clenching around his dick.

You looked so good with mascara running down your face, he thought, feeling himself getting closer and closer as you moaned his name like some sort of prayer. „Again, please,“ you said, feeling the third high coming. It took him a second to understand what you asked for, but when it finally clicked he cursed under his breath, telling you how perfect you are. As he slapped you again, holding your face in his hand and kissing your lips hotly you were holding onto his arm for dear life. Stars appeared in front your eyes as you came once again. You barely noticed anything but his thrusts turning sloppy before he released himself inside of you, buried deep and painting your insides white.

„I didn’t know pain turned you on so much,“ he said with a lazy smile on his face, looking down on your face, your embarrassed expression hardly hidden. „Me neither to be honest… You know how it went in the past,“ you hinted at your unsatisfied sex life with your ex husband, who thought doggy style was already pretty kinky. No shame to vanilla people, but now you knew it wasn’t what you wanted. „It’s good to know, we will test out more things in the future,“ the thought of it turned you on again already and you kissed his chest, letting him know you like the sound of that idea.

„I love you, you know?“ He mumbled as the two of you laid on the couch while drawing patterns on your back lazily. Your heart skipped a bit, this was the first time Aizawa mentioned his feelings for you. „You don’t gotta say it back, I know it’s all a bit messy,“ he said, kissing your forehead. „No, it’s just… After sex the mind is always bit-,“ „Yours might be after that but mine is as clear as ever,“ he cut you off, making you roll your eyes and laugh gently. „I love you too,“ it was mumbled, almost unnoticeable, but he heard you just fine which was all he needed.

————————————- Extra—————————————-

„I run this town. Piss me off again and your wife will find out about your little affair with your little lover boy. She’s pregnant, right? And you would like to be able to care for her don’t you? If so, I suggest you to never threaten my wife or my men ever again. It won’t just be your finger that I cut off, understood?“ He knew killing him off immediately will only cause war. He would win, of course, but it would be unnecessary and taking too much of his energy. „Yes Mister Aizawa,“ the hatred and fear in his eyes pleased him enough for the day, so he walked out of the room, ordering Bakugo to drop him off a few miles away from everyone. A nice nightly walk might clear his head he explained so the man bound to the chair could hear him just fine. „Don’t worry, I will let you keep your finger, but you should hurry, they turn bad fast,“ with that he went into the dark, ready to get home to you.

©kirishoshego//do not repost on any plattforms

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the-winter-smoulder · 3 years

Text

It’s Not Work If You Enjoy It

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 1128

Warnings: 18+ Only, SMUT, Language! Oral (fem rec), fluff

Author’s Notes: I’m challenging myself to write some fics using the list of 410 Smut Prompts that I came across from @devildomqueen. Per the request of @animnerd, LOKI smut for you!!

Prompt: No Panties?

“Darling, you look ravishing,” Loki whispered in your ear, his fingers ghosting your lower back as you stood at the bar, dark green velvet floor length gown hugging your curves.

“Loki. How did you get invited to Tony’s fundraiser?”

“I’m the God of Mischief, my sweet girl. I don’t require an invitation. I go where I please.”

You laughed, “Then why would you choose to be here?! Even I don’t want to be here.”

“Because I knew you would be in attendance, and I wanted to see if you could take my breath away.”

“Well, obviously it didn’t happen because you’re still talking,” you quipped.

“Oh! Aren’t you a sassy little minx,” he smiled.

“You have no idea,” you winked, turning toward the door. You sashayed over to the exit, turning back to look at Loki.

“Aren’t you coming?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Where, pray tell, are we going?” he asked, opening the door for you.

“A true gentleman, you are, Loki,” you smiled.

“Only for a lady such as yourself.”

“Oh, there’s only one problem with that,” you began, holding his arm as you walked down the hall together.

“You see, Loki, I am no lady, and I have no intention to act like one should you decide to join me in my room.”

You both stopped in front of your door. You looked him in the eye, a smile creeping across his face.

“How does your saying go? Ah, yes... ‘Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets’ I believe? Is that accurate, darling?”

You smiled sweetly, opened the door, grabbed him by his tie and asked, “Want to find out?”

You pulled him into your room, closing the door behind you. You leaned back on the door, kicking off your gold heels, then pushed him onto your bed.

You stood in front of him, slowly lifting your skirt so you could make your move to straddle him. As you did, his hands slid up your bare thighs, under your skirt, and over your ass.

“Oh... no panties?” he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.

“A girl’s got to be prepared,” you reply, pulling the dress over your head.

“Mmm... completely bare. Soft, supple skin. You are a truly gorgeous creature, darling,” he said, hands roaming your naked body.

“Hardly seems fair though. I’m bare, and you’re still fully clothed.”

“Well, then we shall have to remedy that,” he said, removing his black jacket, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

“Mmm... let me,” you said, low and sultry.

He leaned back on his hands, letting you remove his tie and continue to unbutton his dark grey shirt, kissing your way down his chest and abs until there was nothing left to unbutton. You slowly removed his shirt, sliding your hands down his arms as you did so. You could hear a soft moan betray his stone exterior. He was turning into putty in your hands.

“My dear, I’ve wanted you for quite some time,” he said, securing his hands at your waist, “I simply cannot allow you to do all of the work.”

“Loki... it’s not work if you enjoy it,” you said, lips crashing into his. His hands slid up your back as you wrapped your legs around his hips.

He rolled you onto your back, hands traveling around your ribcage, settling on your breasts.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with lust, a devilish grin on his lips. He kissed your neck down to the valley of your breasts, fingers gently teasing your nipples. He took your right breast into his mouth as you arched toward him.

Your left hand splayed between his shoulder blades. The right grabbing his long black curls. You scratched his back along his shoulder blade as he hissed in delight.

Your body tensed, his hair tickling your stomach as he made his way between your legs. He peeked up at you before flicking his tongue rapidly across your clit, your back arching, you moaning in sheer pleasure.

His hands wrapped around your thighs, just below your hips, spreading your legs further. You could feel him smile, flattening his tongue, using just the right amount of pressure, licking you from your dripping entrance back up to your clit.

He put his mouth on you, sucking your little bean into his mouth, the waves of pleasure washing over your entire body.

You grabbed his hands, squeezing them as a guttural growl ripped from your belly, through your lungs, and out of your throat.

His tongue still attacking you as you came, lapping up everything you had to offer, his hair tickling your pubis.

You were still a panting, mewling mess as he swiftly removed his shoes, socks and pants.

“No manties?” you panted, smiling up at him and giggling.

He grinned at you, grabbing your ankles, throwing them over his shoulders. He slowly slid his hands up our calves, over your knees, and up your thighs as he deftly entered you. He went slow, savoring the feeling of you around him for the first time.

He leaned in, his shoulders sliding up your calves until your knees were secured on each side of his face. He began moving slowly, savoring each drag in and out of you, as you are moaning for more.

He began to speed up, pressure building in your core, his hands on your hips, yours clutching the headboard behind you, back arched and head thrown back in ecstasy.

Deep, dark growls coming from the god above you, he swiftly wrapped your legs around his waist, pumping into you and pulling you up into his lap.

He wrapped his arms around you, both of you tangled around each other, grasping for leverage as you bounce on top of his thighs.

The dam breaks in a flood of moans, pants and swears, as you both come undone.

You sit on top of him for a few moments, wrapped in each other's arms, your head on his shoulder, his hands running through your hair and down your back.

He cradled your head and back as he lowered you back onto the bed. He moved to lay on top of you, his head resting on your chest as your hearts were still beating quickly, your breath beginning to even out.

“Thank you,” Loki murmured.

“For what?”

“Allowing me to be gentle with you. I didn’t want to rush this – not with you.”

Tears pricked your eyes at the realization that no one had thought of him as gentle before.

“Loki, you can always be whoever you truly are with me, you know that, right?”

He looked up at you with adoration and said, “I do now, darling,” with a smile.

#smut prompts #Loki smut #Loki Laufeyson smut #smut #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki fic

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mrsnegan · 3 years

Note

hey angelface! im back to request again 😅 if you don’t mind. could you do a smutty fic with Negan pretending like he isn’t jealous of some random guy from readers job???

[Sweetheart, your request did things to me, damn. 😅 Here's my fic for you, all dirty and full of jealous and possessive Negan. Working in an office myself didn't make it any easier, haha.]

Warnings: smut, swearing, body fluids, choking, daddy kink, squirting, rough sex, jealous and possessive Negan

Just this one email and you're ready for the weekend, you think to yourself, typing away on your keyboard. Clients could be a pain in the ass and from time to time you feel the need to stay after your colleagues already called it quits.

With the last word appearing on your screen, you hear the door to the office space opening. Negan greets you with his million dollar smile, stepping inside.

"Hey baby girl, thought I would come by to kitnap you for the weekend."

You chuckle at his words, smiling back lovingly.

"Hey. Sounds perfect to me. Just a second and I'm ready."

With a few clicks you turn off your computer, then motion to tidy up your desk a bit.

Negan, leaning against the wall beside your workplace, watches you while you put away the chocolate candy your colleague Zack got for you some hours ago.

"He can't stop gifting you things, can he?" he comments and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"He's just being nice, babe. I like to buy him some cookies from time to time, he buys me some chocolate in return."

You grab your coat and purse, ready to leave work for the long-awaited weekend.

"There's no need to be jealous", you add, walking past him towards the door. "You coming?"

He's in front of you with only a few quick steps, pressing his lips against yours hungrily. When he pulls back again, his eyes are two black orbs, swallowing your surprised gaze.

"Jealous, me?" he asks mischievously. "Nah. I show you jealous."

He turns you around, so you switch positions with him, facing the empty office instead of the door. He walks you backwards with eyes never leaving yours.

"What are you-"

"Is this his desk?" He points towards Zack's workplace with his head, only a few feet away from yours. You nod shortly, your heart beating fast.

Negan lifts you up like you're weighing nothing, sitting you down on your colleague's desk.

"Now, I'm gonna tell you what will happen. I will make you cum over and over again on this idiot's desk, soaking his stuff with your juices. Then I will fuck you, hard, and paint you with my cum. You're mine and mine alone, understood?"

You can't believe what he's about to do, though you practically soak your panties at his words. This is so damn wrong, leaving you absolutely speachless but aroused nonetheless. Thinking straight isn't possible with him standing between your thighs this close, so you just nod at him, biting your lip in the process.

"Need you to say it, baby girl, loud and clear", he prompts, not at all satisfied with your reaction.

"Y-yes, Daddy", you stammer out of breath, feeling his hands on your covered thighs, dangerously close to your center.

"That's a good girl, knows her place very well", he compliments, making you clench around nothing. God, he could turn you to jelly with just a few words.

Without further ado he pops open the button of your jeans, followed by the zipper. You claw at the edge of the desk while he pulls down your trousers, helping you out of them before tossing them on the chair beside him. In his current position, he comes face to face with your panties.

"Hmm, is this a wet spot, baby girl? 'This turning you on?"

The moan leaves your lips without your consent when his mouth closes around your covered center.

"It sure as shit tastes like one", he comments, getting rid of your panties as well. You welcome his fingers, first one, then two, and talented mouth, moaning his name and a litany of curses while he brings you to the brink of an orgasm. He pulls away as soon as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers.

"Want to cum?" he mocks you, looking up at you from his knealing position.

"Please", you beg out of breath. "Please Daddy."

"You have no shame, baby girl, wanting to cum on his desk." He says this as if it hasn't been his idea all along, dragging you into the dark abyss of lust with him, making you want to crave everything he throws at you.

His fingers return to your channel, fucking into you with more force and speed while he sucks your pearl into his hungry mouth. That does it for you. You cum screaming his name, drenching his hand, the edge of the desk and the carpet below with your juices.

"Shit, told you, you will cum soaking everything", Negan hollers between your legs. You slump down against the monitors behind you, but he doesn't let you catch your breath. His fingers return, he even adds a third one, his thumb pressing down on your clit without mercy.

"Fuck, Negan, I..." But it's too late, another orgasm rushes through you, gushing out around his fingers, leaving you a panting mess.

His kisses against your thighs are gentle and loving, the contrast of how he just fingerfucked you.

"Good fucking girl", he praises, straightning himself. "Do you want more?"

"Yeah", you whimper, eyes closed out of shame and excitement.

"Look at me", he prompts hoarsly.

You comply and are greeted with the sight of him pulling his cock out, coating his hard length with your juices which still drip down his fingers.

"He could never make you feel this way, baby girl. He sure as shit is the one who is jealous because he must know how utterly good you're taken care of. And he will definitely smell it when he comes here on Monday."

Your cheeks feel hot with embarrassment, you can't even get around the thought of returning here and working with Zack as if nothing of this ever happened. You will forever be reminded of your depraved act. And you enjoy every second of it.

It doesn't take long for him to enter you in one swift motion, setting a fast pace, his hands all over your body. You moan against his mouth while trying to anchor yourself with a tight grip around his shoulders.

He fucks into you with fast and precise strokes, the desk under you shakes with every push and pull, pencils and papers in disarray from your motions.

Sloppy kisses are followed by his tongue trailing down your neck, leaving a wet path and you panting with desire, the only thing leading your thoughts and actions.

His hands rip your blouse apart, buttons flying everywhere while he frees your right breast to suck on your erect nipple.

"You feel so good around me, so wet and tight. You wanna cum on my cock, baby girl?"

"Y-yes, Daddy, fuck...harder please."

His grin turns borderline evil with your request. He grabs your hips more securely, pistoning in and out of your tight heat. You scream for him, your sounds music to his ears.

"Daddy...", you groan.

"What is it, baby girl?" he asks out of breath, his movements not faltering once.

"Choke me, please", you beg, quieter than before.

"You dirty fucking girl", he comments with a big grin. His left hand travels from your hips around your throat, choking you lightly.

Your eyes roll back at his touch and the ongoing thrusts. When he tightens his grip on you, you moan breathlessly.

"Fucking shit...gonna cum so fucking hard, fuck...", Negan moans, frantically driving himself into you over and over and over again until you feel him twitching inside of you. As soon as he pumps the first line of cum into you, he triggers your own wave of high, but ruins it when he pulls out, his words from earlier seemingly forgotten. He jerks himself off with his right hand, painting your pussy with his release. All the while he doesn't let go of your throat, a possessive gesture without any doubt.

Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest, your eyes furiously scanning his face. You don't take it kindly if he ruins your orgasm, so your hand travels down your body, fingers harshly rubbing your clit, his seed working as a lubricant to your advantage.

"Dirty girl", he says smirking, but letting you touch yourself, pressing his forehead against yours, hand still around your throat, choking you lightly.

"Kneel down", you pant against his lips when he loosens his grip a bit. He does as you say, letting go of your throat entirely. The oxygen flooding your lungs and you rubbing your clit faster and faster, finally pushes you over the edge. You cum violently, squirting into Negan's waiting mouth who tastes your release gladly, drinking you down without any hint of discomfort.

Long moments of heavy breathing and gentle caresses follow before Negan stands up again, grabbing your jeans from the chair.

"Shit, baby girl, that's why I love you so much. You're not only feeling and tasting divine, you're as fucking crazy as I am."

You grin at him, still trying to calm your pulse. "Let's get out of here", you respond, "I want you to draw me a nice bath after this filth."

"I will, but I know you like being drenched like this, don't deny it. You're my dirty girl, mine alone."

"Says the one that isn't jealous at all", you retort.

He just smirks at you, his eyes giving away everything you need to know.

---

Taglist: @iluvneganandjamie @happysgal @negans-attagirl

#negan x reader #negan #negan smut #negan x you #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fic #negan fanfiction #jealousy

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herofics · 3 years

Text

Dabi beats up an asshole ex step-mom, but it’s comfort

Guess who isn't doing so well on this wonderful day, you fucking guessed it, me. They’re childhood friends and the reader stayed in contact with Dabi even after he left his family and they both became villains, the reader not so much but they aren’t exactly a lawful citizen. Also can you tell I’m venting some shit, obviously this is highly exaggerated and I wouldn’t hurt anyone, but god does it feel good to get some anger out. I’m 6cm taller than Dabi and much bigger, and I’m saying this because it ended up being a bit of self insert, or at least with a big reader.

You weren’t really sure what triggered it this time. Scratch that, you knew exactly what made it happen, but you didn’t really want to accept it.

“Fuck!” you yelled as you hit the brick wall for the hundredth time that evening.

You knuckles were bleeding and bruised, but you didn’t care, you barely even felt the pain anymore.

“Fucking bitch!” you shouted and struck the wall one more time.

“Ya know, there’s a perfectly good punching bag right there” Dabi said as he leaned against the doorframe.

You turned around, out of breath, and crossed your arms in front of yourself, trying to hide your hands.

“Can you just go away?” you asked, sounding more desperate than angry.

“Sure can, but I’m not gonna” he scoffed and started walking towards you.

You took a step back, but now your back was against the wall and you couldn’t really get away from him.

“Nowhere to run now” Dabi smirked and forcefully twisted your hands away from your sides, to see the damage you’d done this time.

“So?” you asked, looking away from him.

“You didn’t fracture anything did you?” he asked after a while, and let go of your hands.

“I-I don’t think so”

“Good, cause we’ve got something to do” he turned around and started walking out.

You grabbed your hoodie from the floor and threw it on, following Dabi out of the dusty gym.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” you asked as he pulled his hood up and put on a black facemask.

“That hag of an ex step-mom of yours is bothering you again, isn’t she? We’re gonna go greet her”

“How’d you know?” you asked and shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets.

“You yellin ‘fucking bitch’ at the top of your lungs while hittin a wall kinda gave it away”

“Ah” you shook your head.

You walked through the city, without saying so much as a word after that. When you got to her house, you grabbed Dabi’s forearm and squeezed it a little too tight for his liking.

“You’re not gonna kill her, right?” you asked, while still holding onto his arm.

“Like I said, we’re just gonna greet her” he growled and ripped his arm away from your grip.

“Sorry, I-”

You were interrupted by the door opening and that hag peeking out the door. She saw you and you could see her eyes darken. It honestly gave you goosebumps, and brought back a lot of the shit she had done.

“”What are you doing here? I thought you never wanted to see me again” she said spitefully.

“I didn’t, and I don’t, but he does”

Dabi took his mask off and shoved it into his pocket. Even though you could only see the side of his face you knew he had that crazy gleam in his eyes and he was smiling like a maniac.

“Hello Mrs” he said and pushed her back into the house so forcefully, she fell on her ass into the hallway, leaving a smoldering handprint on her shirt.

“Dabi? Isn’t this enough, she looks scared enough”

“No, not what she did to you” he hissed and you could see the smoke coming from his hands.

“What I did?! That brat is-” she started but Dabi pretty much showed his boot into her mouth.

“No one asked you anythin” Dabi growled and waved his finger in front of her face, before taking his boot off her face.

“You said you wouldn’t kill her” you said, not even really sure if you wanted to convince him.

“I won’t” Dabi said.

“But?”

“But ya might want to call an ambulance soon” he said as he grabbed her by the collar with both hands.

The fabric started smoking and burning and your former step-mother screamed, hopefully more because of fear than pain. You pressed your hands to your ears to muffle at least some of the sounds. You stepped outside for a few minutes, before calling the ambulance, but after a while you couldn’t take the noises anymore and you slammed the door open.

“Dabi!” you finally yelled and grabbed his arm.

Dabi turned his head to look at you and stopped struggling against your grip. Even though you looked angry, it didn’t seem to be directed at him. You were looking past him and down to the human sack of shit laying on the floor. Even though you were obviously angry, you also seemed very sad.

“Fine” he sighed and ripped his arm out of your grasp.

“I called an ambulance, it should be here soon, so we need to go” you said, now looking more like your calm self.

You grabbed Dabi’s hand and started dragging him away from the scene of the crime. When you had put enough distance between yourself and the house, you turned around and noticed that he was bleeding from his face and the hand you had grabbed. You figured your former step-mother had managed to rip a few of his staples off.

“I’ll patch you up once we get back to my place, put your mask back on and maybe you won’t look as suspicious as you are” you remarked.

“Yeah, yeah” he said and took his hand back to put his mask on.

You lead the way to your apartment, when you got there you sat Dabi down on the couch.

“Wait there, I’ve got some replacement staples for you and I’m gonna clean off the blood”

“I can do that myself” he argued, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Oh shut up, you’re too angry to do shit right now, I felt how your hands were shaking”

“Fuck you” Dabi growled and leaned back on the couch.

You carried one of the kitchen chairs in front of the couch and sat down on it, setting the wound cleaning supplies on the coffee table behind you.

You grabbed Dabi’s chin and started cleaning the blood off his face. You had to swipe his hair out of the way a couple of times too.

“You’re too goddamn dirty for this to be of any actual help. Go take a shower you dirty gremlin”

Dabi just sighed, but obliged with your request without much resistance, but he still made sure to smack you on the back of the head as he walked by.

“I’ll give you a t-shirt and a pair of my joggers, so throw your clothes in the washer” you yelled as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

You could hear the shower turn on and while he was in there, you decided to patch up your knuckles. You disinfected your hands and wrapped some gauze around your knuckles. Then you left the clothes you promised next to the bathroom door. You laid down on the couch to wait for Dabi to come out of the shower.

Dabi stood under the warm water for a while. How long had it been since he had actually taken a proper shower, with soap and all. He opened a couple of the shampoos and shower gels, before he found the one that smelled the most like you. He decided not to use it, but instead just took a deep breath of the smell and memorized the brand. Maybe he would buy it for you sometime. Dabi put the bottle back and chose something else that would be better for the burnt parts of his skin.

“What am I gonna do with them?” he muttered. “How do I keep them safe?”

Laying there on the couch, you got to thinking, it wasn’t like you had any love left for your ex-step-mom, but you didn’t really know how to feel about what Dabi had done. It’s not that she didn’t deserve every bit of it, it’s more about the fact that you felt like you should’ve done it yourself and not let Dabi bloody his hands again. You knew what he was, you knew who he worked with and the things he’d done, but you didn’t want to use him like some sort of an attack dog.

The bathroom door opened and Dabi stepped out. He was wearing the pants you’d given him but he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was drying his hair on the towel and when he was done, he draped it over the chair you had brought next to the couch.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said and grabbed the staples and the surgical stapler off the table. “Sit down, and I’ll patch you up too”

Dabi sat down on the couch next to you and was very still during the whole stapling operation. You were used to doing it for him, since you’d been doing this for years, ever since he had had a need for it. You grabbed his chin again and started working on his face, it didn’t seem like the skin had ripped too badly, which was a damn miracle, so you just pressed the stapler close to the old spots and pressed it down. Next was his hand, it looked much worse, but you managed to patch him up with the addition of a few stitches and the staples on top. Even when you were done, you didn’t let go of his hand, you just looked at it and brushed your thumb over the border of normal and burnt skin.

“Do you hate me now?” he asked suddenly.

“I may be annoyed at you, but I could never hate you” you said as you put the last staple to his hand. “Touya…” you used his real name to see if he would react any differently, but he didn’t seem to care. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, and you’ve always looked out for me. You know I appreciate that, but I don’t want to take advantage of your willingness to stand up for me, and I’m not so weak that I would need it anyway”

“I don’t do it because I think you’re weak. I do it because you’re too damn kind to give shitty people what they deserve”

“You might be right about that” you sighed, finally letting go of his hand. “Why’d you choose today to do that anyway?”

“Just felt like it” he shrugged.

“Sure…” you rolled your eyes. “Also, could you put a shirt on?”

“Why? You getting all hot and bothered about it?” he smirked.

“No-no, jackass” you said and hit his shoulder.

“Ouch” he said a bit over dramatically.

“Seriously though, if at all possible, I wish you didn’t have to bloody your hands even more because of me”

“I would burn the whole world down for you, and there is nothing you could do about it” Dabi said quietly, but you could hear he was very serious.

“Thank you, but I’m sure it won’t come to that” you said.

You moved to lay down on the couch but Dabi pulled you down so your head was on his lap. You could feel his hands in your hair and you took a deep breath. He smelled like sea salt and toasted cinnamon. Everything was better like this, just like this.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi #todoroki touya #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #abuse tw #violence tw #blood tw #selfharm tw #comfort

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years

Text

Inextinguishable Fire | Chiluc Week Day 1

Fake Dating/Accidental Confession/Roommates AU

Chiluc Fluff

Tw: Mentions of a Stalker

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“Ajax! I need your help!” He chimed, his pale knuckles knocking lightly on the door. The sound of creaking soaked through the door, floorboards cried under his weight as his shadow shifted beneath the door. The faintest sound of a groan resonated through the door as it was slowly opened.

The sunlight from the apartment began to creep into his dark room, it’s darkness swallowed around the tall, pale figure before him. The veins in his hands moved as he gripped at the door and it’s frame, his muscles stretching as he curved his back in a weak attempt to pop it. Whatever he had done last night must’ve been eventful, bruises littered his knuckles as cuts and scratches tore at his skin with every breath.

“What’s up Sparky?” He groaned, the sound reverberating through the quiet hallway as he yawned, his bed head unruly as it curled and stuck out in different directions, his sleepy tears rolling down his freckled cheeks.

“I have a problem and I need your help.” Diluc had muttered, determined to fix his gaze upon those ocean blues that drowned him shamelessly with every look. They’d look down at him, up at him, study him and care for him. An overwhelming tsunami sure to swallow him whole and send his head underwater, taking away every breath he took.

“What kinda problem?” Ajax was intrigued. A problem? Whatever this problem was it obviously stressed him out a great deal — his hair was a frenzied mess, curls displaced down his back and along his shoulders from where they had been agitated; probably from where he had been running his fingers through it. Even in his sleepy haze, he could see his fingers were irritated, most likely from scratching, and his lips were chapped, his bottom lip with patches of raw skin, swollen and bleeding. He’d been chewing and pulling at the skin of his lips.

“So you remember why we’re rooming? Because I had a stalker on campus?” He worried, starting to scratch at his neck, most likely from anxiety.

“Yeah…I remember very well. They tried to break into the dorm you shared with that Albedo guy. I chased ‘em off,” he groaned, rubbing at his face, trying to rub his drowsiness away, “What about ‘em? Do I need to beat the shit outta them?” He murmured as he studied the man before him.

“Well…no, not yet I don’t think. That’s not…”

“What’s wrong Diluc?” He whispered gently, his voice deep and raspy from having just woken up. His voice alone was enough to send a shiver down Diluc’s spine.

“I’ve been invited to a double date and the people who invited me think I’m dating you and I don’t know what to do so I came to you thinking you’d know what to do and even though I know how to protect myself I’m still not comfortable knowing there isn’t a restraining order on that stalker so I figured —,”

“Diluc, slow down. You’re rambling, I need you to have mercy on me here,” he laughed as he reached for a t-shirt, “Look, I get this is making you anxious. Why not just tell them you don’t feel up to hanging out right now? Better yet, invite them to the apartment, I don’t care.” He slipped the tee on, the collar hang forward from where it had been stretched out.

The idea of ‘asking another friend’ really wasn’t much of an option for Diluc. He had far too many trust issues and the only reason why he’d hung around Ajax was because he was there the night the stalker had broken in, talking pictures of him and stealing precious items. Had it not been for Albedo’s attempt to stop him, Ajax wouldn’t have heard the ruckus.

“Look, I need you to calm down before you tell me. I can’t keep up when you anxiety ramble,” he smiled softly, nodding to the living room, “Go sit on the couch and wait for me, I’ll brush your hair out and you can go from there okay?” For someone as flamboyant as Kaeya — maybe even more so — he was rather calm in the mornings whereas Kaeya would be loud and dramatic.

Striding along their shared apartment, he sat on the couch as he listened to the winds howl and the birds chirp. He remembered telling the pair he had online classes to worry about, the classes becoming stressful, only adding to his exhaustion after the stalker incident. Feeling the sofa dip behind him, he relaxed instinctively as he sat behind him, pulling his hair behind him before he gently brushed at the hairs, careful not to snag a single strand.

“So start from the beginning for me,” he said calmly, his fingers carding through his hair with each stroke of the hairbrush.

“I was invited to a double date…,” he whispered, slumping forward just a bit as he fiddled his his fingers.

“By who?”

“By Albedo.”

“You’re old roommate?” Diluc nodded as best he could, his weight sinking into the cushions beneath him.

“Why not just invite him and his partner here?”

“I tried but he said he doesn’t want to be a bother and he’d rather pay for coffee down the road.” He sank into his touch as he lightly massaged his scalp.

“And you said he thinks we’re dating?” Diluc hummed, tilting his head back, melting under his touch.

“Yeah, I couldn’t get a word in over the phone, I tried to tell him we weren’t and he didn’t believe me.” He sighed, some of his tension leaving his body.

“And you’re worried about that stalker again?” Diluc hummed again, his eyes closing as Ajax braided the sides to pull into a small ponytail, draping the rest if his tamed hair over his shoulders and down his back.

“Then we’ll go and just call it a fake date.” He shrugged, his hands leaving the tamed red locks his fingers were busied with.

“The two of us on a fake date?” Diluc had thought of it, he just hadn’t expected for him to have the same idea, “What would we even do, how would that —,”

“Dont stress about it too much, just follow my lead,” Ajax soothed, brushing a piece of his hair behind his ear. It was brief when Diluc looked away, Ajax’s eyes stealing a glance at his red lips, his gaze lingering a moment longer than he would’ve liked as the other stared off at the pristine, white wall.

“Look, if it bothers you that much then I’ll just go as company alright? No need to worry your pretty head Aphrodite,” Diluc’s skin burned violently as his mind began to crash, he could feel himself drowning once more, water filling his lungs and his throat as a light kiss was pressed to his temple.

“Why did you —,”

“We’re fake dating right? We gotta make it believable Rosebud, might as well get a head start,” he chuckled as he walked back to his room to get dressed, “Let me know what time we’re leaving,” he called down the hall, his voice bouncing and echoing down the cramped space as Diluc sat mindlessly on the sofa. God, he could be so insufferable sometimes. His fingers feathered over his temple, the ghost of his lips setting his heart aflame as he scoffed. Sure, he helped when he was needed and slept most of the day because of his night classes, but he could be so…so annoying.

An hour had ticked away along the clock’s hands, Diluc looking on in severe distaste at the basic tee and jeans Ajax had chosen. It was so basic Diluc couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he drug him back to his room, rifling through the other’s wardrobe, desperate to find something better for him to wear.

“Take that off, before I rip it off you,” Diluc’s tone was bitter, as he glared at him.

“So forward Diluc,” Ajax snickered, pulling the t-shirt off slowly, teasingly, loving the irritated noise that squeezed itself past Diluc’s throat. His touch against his skin was scalding as he took his shirt off for him. It made his heart flutter and burn like a forest fire in his chest with each breath, becoming far more dire with every inhale — dire for the need to touch him delicately, to let his fingers gingerly trace the underside of his jaw and press chaste kisses to his neck. He swallowed thickly, knowing his pale cheeks were burning with his hidden passion, the tips of his ears must have been burning as bright as the other’s hair. If they had, Diluc had chosen to ignore it, surely.

“Put this on.” Clothes were pushed to his chest, an assortment of colors that worked beautifully together, “I think a slate grey would look better, it’s softer,” he started to ramble, right, he was studying to be a fashion designer, he was also a minor in art, “No, no wait,” he went off, fingers gently skimming against his clothes, “Try this instead,” he handed him another outfit, taking away the sweater and pants he had handed him previously.

“Diluc, it’s a fake date…,” he whispered slowly as Diluc went back to looking through his clothes, “Why are you dressed like it’s a fancy outing, wearing heels, and going so in depth with clothes?”

“Well, Ajax,” he hummed with a swift turn of his heel, his hair spinning as he lifted the other’s chin with his finger, sending Ajax reeling from his spot on his bed. Don’t even get him started on the way he said his name like that, “One, it’s called having a taste in fashion and being a minor in art. Two, they aren’t heels, they’re dress shoes,” he leaned in closely, a smirk danced uncharacteristically along his features as his breath fanned over his lips, “We gotta make it believable…Seerose.” Had it not been for rooming with him for four months his German would have been rough. He…he called him Water Lily in German. The perfect payback really. Ajax laughed lightly as the finger slipped from his chin as he stood up.

“Alright alright, I’ll be out in a moment.” Diluc had been grateful he had the other by his side, his heart hammered in his chest.

“How do I look Firefly?” He chimed, a cheesy grin on his face as he walked back into his room.

“Better,” Diluc was pleased with the outfit. It had gone silent rather quickly, the incessant buzz of the AC being the only noise that had filled the room, “Hey…I have a question.”

“Shoot Sparky,” Ajax relaxed, slouching back just a bit as Diluc eyed him, watching his every move like a hawk.

“Did you want to go on the double date with me?” Ajax’s face flushed. Yes, yes he absolutely wanted to…but how could he admit that so casually?

“Just thought it’d be a cool idea, that’s all.”

“A cool idea?” Diluc had doubted that with every fiber of his being. He could tell by the way he spoke and the way his body had tensed up there was something up.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugged, his body going rigid.

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“I said you’re lying.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time but what makes you think I’m lying?”

“You’re too tense.” He said simply, stepping closer eyes cut to examine every bead of sweat that formed on his face, every freckle and every line in his forehead, “Why did you propose the idea of a fake date, and be honest.”

“I am being honest!” He panicked, he could feel his body begin to flare with heat as Diluc walked closer and closer.

“No you aren’t Ajax.”

“Why does it matter?” Ajax argued, as he took slow, consistent steps back.

“Because I’m the last person you should love—,”

“So what if I do?!” Ajax’s voice echoed within the dark room as sunlight streamed through the curtains as he was backed into the wall. His heart raced in his chest as it clicked. He…he just admitted to loving his roommate. The very roommate he saved four months ago and offered to go on a fake date with. He hadn’t meant for it to be so raw, so unromantic that he himself had to groan at his own stupidity.

“…So you’re actually in love with me?” Ajax’s lips pursed shut, as he looked away, embarrassment settling in his bones, flooding every crevice of his body.

“Ajax?”

“Yes, Diluc, I’m in love with you, for fuck sake.” He groaned, his head thumping against the wall as he threw his head back. He was dizzy, his eyes wide as warm hands cupped his cheeks with a forceful kiss pressed to his lips — desperate. Everything in this moment was a blur to him, he just knew he tasted sweet, like sugar and pastries. He could feel the quiver of his lip and it felt right. It felt so, so right.

“C-call, call it off,” he groaned, melting into the kiss with every touch as his lithe fingers traced the veins in his neck, “Call off the meet up—,” he whispered thinly, pulling him impossibly closer as he kissed him feverishly, passion burning in each press of their lips. Diluc gasped as he was suffocated with every gentle kiss pressed to his skin. He pulled at the hairs of his neck, allowing himself to be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean. Lightly, he pushed him away to breathe, laughing lightly at their disheveled state as he cleaned them both up as best he could.

“Or, we could actually make it a date instead of a fake one,” he proposed, hands busying themselves with bronze curls.

“Yes. Fuck yes, I would absolutely love that,” he whispered as he went back to kissing him over and over, grateful for his stupid mouth talking too much.

“A date it is then,” Diluc mumbled against his lips as he allowed himself to be devoured by the other’s warm embrace, “A date it is…” Ajax sank into his touch, feeling his fingers hold him closely by his jaw as his lips met his over and over, his warmth scorching his skin, a fire that could never be extinguished…a fire that could never be extinguished.

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notyetneedcoffee · 3 years

Text

Stiches, Part 2

A/N: Yep, I’ve ventured off the Marvel path and penned a few tales for The Witcher!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut

Stiches Part 1

Consciousness came slowly, like sunlight filtering through a thick fog. Warmth surrounded your heavy limbs and when you tried to move, a delightful pang registered in the muscles of your inner thighs. A low moan slipped passed your lips as the ache between your legs caused a flood of images from the night before to crash across your mind.

You told the traveling Witcher you wanted to feel him for days after he left. The man took you at your word. Playing your body with the mastery of a hundred years of practice, Geralt assured your cunt stayed swollen and wet as he fucked you thoroughly, roughly, and repeatedly.

“Stay put,” a deep gravely voice rumbled against your ear. A strong arm pulled you tighter to his bulk. “I am not ready to awaken yet.”

You turned in his arms to bury your face in the hair of his chest. Your knee easily slipped between his thighs as his legs tangled with your own. His large hand settled at the back of your neck, and you felt his deep sigh. His weighty and lax body wrapped around yours. His half hard cock pressed into you belly. Despite fatigue, your hand moved between you to wrap around his length.

“Hmm.” Geralt pumped into your palm once before pulling your hand away and pressing your palm to his lips. “Sleep now, my dove.” He chuckled lightly. “Later I shall plow you like the fields of wheat in Novigrad.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nuzzled into his chest and succumbed to the warmth, drifting off to sleep again.

Darkness enveloped the world. The warmth surrounding you turned your limbs numb, preventing you from moving away from the wailing in your ears. Harsh and painful, the sound clawed at your mind brought you to panic. You needed to run, needed to flee, but you couldn’t move. Not even a sound came forth as you tried to scream. The source of the wail pulled at you, ripping into your chest, tearing the life from your breast.

Light flared. Fire seared your flesh. Breath rushed through your lungs and you screamed.

Hard rough hands shook you. A deep voice called your name. Your eyes popped open to see Geralt on his knees over you, gripping your shoulder hard. Shock left your heart beating like a galloping horse. Cold steel brushed against your hand and you realize his sword lay beside you.

With another shake he said your name, scowling. “Are you with me? Why do you have a Hym attached to you?”

“What?” You looked up at him. “I, um, I have nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Geralt’s jaw clenched. He let you go, sitting back to lean on the headboard and place his sword beside the bed. “No,” he huffed. “A hym has attached itself to you. What have you done?”

You sat up, pulling the blanket up with you. “What? I have not-“

“Don’t lie to me.” Geralt large hand grasped your jaw. You never saw him move. He was just suddenly holding you down, growling in your face. “Hyms only feed upon the guilty. What have you done?”

A tightness gripped your throat, but it wasn’t Geralt’s hand. Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t know.”

He released your jaw, but didn’t let you go. He pulled you upon his lap. “Tell me of the creature in your nightmares. Is it just in your dreams, or does it whisper to you while awake?”

“Just nightmares.” You twisted your fingers in the blanket. “They come once, maybe twice, a week.”

“I suspect,” he tilted his head to look at your downcast face. “That is the only time you allow yourself to sleep soundly.” You nodded. He took a deep breath, running his fingertips down your spine. “Hyms attach to persons holding onto guilt, great guilt. They feed on it, create a darkness in the person, so they can feed even more.”

Silent tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I can help you, little dove. I can defeat this thing, but you have to tell me.” The warmth of his large hands slipped up to rest upon the base of your neck. His voice rumbled low and deep, but it made you want you curl against him and weep.

“The spring after my husband was killed,” You sniffed and leaned into Geralt’s chest. “One of the smiths, Wallen, attempted to gain my favor. I turned him away, but he persisted. He became obsessive and abusive. I feared him and took great pains to never be alone with him.”

He remained silent, but his fingers began their journey over your back again.

“One day three men came to town. They were part of the raiders who attacked when my husband died. I knew they were dangerous, knew they would kill without remorse.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Never before had you uttered the words, “I knew they were listening when I lied about a large commission Wallen had taken.”

Geralt nodded. “They killed him for riches he did not have.”

“I told myself, I just lied. I didn’t kill him. It was a little lie, that’s all.” You wept. “He was vile and mean. I could not push him away anymore. He attempt to...he nearly...I knew he would do worse than force me if he caught me alone. I was afraid.”

A single rueful huff erupted from his chest. Geralt pressed his lips to your hair. “Such feelings for nothing but a cunning solution to a problem.”

“But…”

“If this man came after you, and you held a blade, what would you do?”

“Use it.” You huffed.

“If he came after you, and you own attack hounds, what would you do?”

“I’d release them.” Your tears ceasing.

“So all you did, my dove, is release the dogs you had at your disposal.” Geralt pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin below your ear. His tongue slipped along the edge of your ear before he nipped at it lightly. “Now that you have spoken of it, the hym can be fought.”

“How?” You turned your face into his neck.

“Tonight you will take me to where the Smithy was killed.” He felt you stiffen, but he shifted you in his hold to tuck you closer to his chest. “You can. You will. The hym will come to you. Then I will kill it.”

“How do you kill a nightmare?” You asked in a small voice.

“I’m a Witcher.” He chuckled. “Or had you forgotten?”

“No,” you quietly laughed. “How could I?”

“Then tonight I shall slay your monster.” His hand tipped your head up. His breath washed over your lips.

“But I have no coin to give you.” You fought not to smile.

“Then we shall have to barter.” Geralt’s mouth possessed yours, drawing a delicious moan from you. He tossed away the offending blanket, and moved you to straddle his lap. Your fingers tangled in his white hair. As your tongues battled, his hands encircled your waist and he rocked you against him. Your breasts raked over his chest.

Still sensitive from the night’s amorous activities, you grew wet against his hardening cock. You nipped and kissed along his neck. “Gods, you feel so good.”

He only grunted, as his rough hand squeezed your breast, thumb rubbing over your taunt nipple. With a fluid movement, he flipped you both. You landed on your back. Geralt hooked your knees over his arms. Leaning forward he trailed love bites down your chest.

“So sweet.” He hummed against the soft skin of your inner thigh. The scruff of his chin grazed your sensitive clit and you gasped. Geralt laid the flat of his tongue over you, soothing you, teasing you. “Do you need rest, my dove?”

“No.” You panted, fingers twisting in his hair.

“What is it you want?” His voice vibrated through your body.

“Fuck me.” You breathed.

He chuckled, crawling up your body, painting a trail with his mouth. When his cock pressed against your slick core, he kissed you hard, burying himself deep. His groan mixed with your moan. Unlike the night before, he moved slow and deliberate. The length of him moving in and out at such a pace that your breath became one, the tension coiled, and heat spread.

“Yes,” you clung to his shoulders, legs wrapping tightly around his hips. His fingers dug deep into the meat of your ass, holding you tight. His weight pressing into you and the scent of his sweat filling your head, you lost yourself in him.

His pace quickened. Your body tightened. You curled your hips up. His hips snapped, cock hitting you perfectly. Your thighs shook. His grunts mingled with your cries. Geralt pounded into you with force. You dug your nails into his back, coming hard. He growled, following you.

You held on with weak limbs, relishing in the feel of him. He rolled and pulled you along with him. Your fingers trailed down his side, feeling the stitched you placed there just the day before. Lifting up, you checked his wound. It was pink, but looked a week old.

“Told you I heal quickly.” Geralt sighed.

“Good thing,” you settled into the crook of his arm. “I’d hate to aggravate an injury before you go monster slaying again.”

He huffed. “It would be worse if you sent me off hungry.”

You laughed, sitting up. His eyes were closed and a relaxed smile was on his face. “I think I can manage to satisfy your appetite.”

Geralt’s golden eyes met yours, glinting with mirth. “You’re definitely doing that, but what about food?”

Soon the two of you were dressed and seated at your favorite table in front of the fire. The inn owner, Rulla, thankfully did not comment as you immerged from the Witcher’s room. She just gestured to your table and followed with a pitcher of ale and cups.

“About time. I suppose you’re hungry.” Her reproachful words did not match the teasing smile on her lips. When Geralt grunted an agreement, she wondered off to quickly return with a large platter. Unloading bowls of stew, loaves of bread, and a large plate of cured meat and dried fruit.

Your stomach grumbled, realizing for the first time how famished he’d made you. Geralt tore off a piece of bread and began to eat with purpose. He did everything with purpose; eating, fucking, monster killing.

By the time this Witcher moved on, he would not only leave you well bedded, but free of your nightmares. You smiled, feeling better than you had in ages.

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isshebreathing · 3 years

Text

Sharing my first resus story, please be kind:

Bringing up our child pt: 1

We sat together on the sofa trying to avoid the heat. Both sprawled out in nothing but a tank top and underwear, her bulging belly mounted in the center of her body like a rapidly growing hill to climb.

I was the one who wanted to give birth to a child, she would have been perfectly fine with adoption, but I was so desperate to experience a pregnancy my weak heart could never support that she agreed to carry our child.

Pregnancy had been awful for Lizzy, I knew it but she never complained, she would never complain because she loved me that much. She sat up suddenly and asked for antacids, it wasn’t uncommon so we’d started keeping them all around the house like little candy jars. She chews two and sits up to get more comfortable, despite siting directly in front of the air conditioner and a fan I notice beads of sweat forming on her forehead. These hot flashes had been happening at night, she’d wake up covered in sweat, make her way to the bathroom and take a cold shower, then make her way back, to bed I’d sit with her in the bathroom and offer to get her ice or a cold washcloth but she always declined, “just need to wash the sweat off” she’d say.

She was usually so reluctant to accept help, which was why I was surprised when she asked me to get her a cold washcloth and some ice.

As soon as I got back panic began to rise in my throat, she had shifted from the sofa to the floor on all fours, panting as her body started to drip with sweat. “Call for help,” she said weakly, “I can’t get up.”

“911 can you please give me your address?”

“1217 east main st, my wife is pregnant and something is wrong, please send someone to help, she looks really bad, she can’t get up and she’s dripping with sweat.”

“Okay ma’am I need you to stay calm, is you wife breathing?”

“Yes she is, she’s on the floor on her hands and knees, she can’t get up, she’s breathing really heavily”

Lizzy looks up at me with pleading in her eyes and doesn’t try to reassure me, I know something must really be wrong.

“Ma’am I need you to give me this info okay”

My mind snaps back into the phone call as I realize the dispatcher is trying to get information from me.

“How far along is she?”

“Six months, she’s due in September, she hasn’t had anything like this happen before, please hurry, I have a heart condition and I cannot help her up”

“Ma’am they are coming as fast as they can…”

I panic further as Lizzy’s eyes roll back in her head and she face plants into the floor, letting out a horrific groan and violently seizing

“Oh my god send help now she’s having a seizure”

“Okay ma’am you’re going to have to be calm to help her okay,”

“Don’t tell me go calm down bitch, my wife and child are seizing uncontrollably on the floor, I will freak out as much as I can thank you.” I think to myself.

“Is she still seizing?”

“Yes.” I snap back, “Oh fuck how long has it been”

“Okay I need you to roll her on her side and make sure there’s nothing in her mouth that she can choke on.”

I grab her back under her bloated belly and heave her onto her left side, she continues shaking and gasping in a horrific noise, I pry her mouth open and sweep my finger through it as a sickeningly pale foam gorges out.

The seizing slows but she continues to gasp horrible breaths, desperate for air. Her body goes limp as she desperately tries to pull air into her lungs one last time. Her eyes glaze over as she stares off into something that I cannot see.

I push my two fingers to the side of her throat to confirm my worst fear, her heart has stopped.

“Fuck she’s in cardiac arrest, send someone now!” I scream to the dispatcher as I rush to the front closet to get the “just in case” kit that Lizzy put there after one of my episodes. “Unlock the front door” a large note says on top, reminding me to open the house for the paramedics that I pray would be here soon. A wave of appreciation for my wife’s continuing fear that I would suddenly drop dead washed over me.

I rush back to her and I see her lying there sickingly still and with a blank stare as her body rapidly turns a horrifying gray/blue color.

“Ma’am can you hear me? What is happening now?”

I realize I haven’t responded to the dispatcher since screaming about Lizzy going into cardiac arrest.

“She’s in cardiac arrest, we have a defibrillator and a breathing kit, I have a very weak heart, I need help now”

“Ma’am they’re coming as fast as they safely can, what is happening now”

I flip Lizzy on her back and try to stay calm as the mound of her belly turns the same sickingly gray/blue color as the rest of her body. I rip off her top and have a bashful moment as her milk swollen breasts flop off to the sides, distracted for a moment by how beautiful my wife’s full and soft body was. I put one AED pad in between her breasts and lifting her up gently to place one between her shoulder blades. Putting one on her side like is usually advised would risk the shock jumping over to the baby and forcing the fetal heart rate out of control. The shock had to go directly into Lizzy’s heart to try and convince it to start.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient.”

The wait seems like hours before it says “shock advised”

I hesitate before pushing the flashing button, a shock goes through Lizzy jolting her limbs in an unnatural form as the mound in her belly shakes.

“Check pulse, if no pulse continue CPR”

I stick my fingers below her chin and feel nothing.

“Fuck please send someone now, I have a very weak heart I can’t do much CPR”

The dispatcher replies but I don’t comprehend what she says as I lock both of my hands over her chest and push down as hard and as fast as my weak and pathetic body will allow me to.

“One and two and three and four…” I count to myself, it’s the only thing from my YMCA CPR class that has stuck. I get to thirty and I swipe my finger through her mouth again removing more yellowish foam that I now notice has red streaks in it.

I tilt her head back and pinch her nose shut, I can feel my heart weakly pounding as I cover her mouth with mine and weakly breathing into her as her chest rises, I repeat the action again, then frantically comtinue compressions “one and two and three and four and…”

The defibrillator pipes up with its computerized voice again, “analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient.” I feel weirdly comforted that I have this sentient machine by my side.

Another agonizing few seconds pass before the machine says “shock advised” as the machine is powering up I look in the orange bag my wife diligently packed never expecting it to be used to sustain her own life, I see an ambu bag attached to a mouthpiece and another little bag with a hose attached and a note that says “O2 concentrator” I connect the tube to my oxygen concentrator and turn it on I hear the loud air intake noise as I push “shock” again.

The shock is stronger this time, Lizzy’s body contorts again in an unnatural surge. I push my fingers into her corroded again and feel nothing. I stick the plastic piece into her mouth to keep her tongue out of the way and slip it into the mask, and then squeeze the bag as two deep oxygenated breaths make her chest rise more than my pathetic weak lungs could ever imagine.

I lock my hands in the center of her chest again and start compressions “one and two and three and four and…” I can feel my heart start to murmur and skip from the strain.”

“Somebody please help” I scream in desperation, the thought of losing both my wife and child slips through my mind as I pump her chest harder, fully prepared to kill myself in order to save them.

My head starts to spin as I fill her lungs with another breath from the ambu bag. There’s a ringing in my ears as I start my weak compressions again “one and two and three and four and…” I feel my body weaken knowing it will never be enough. “I’m so sorry Lizzy” I thought as I failed to keep her heart beating for either her or our child.

I feel a hand on my shoulder pull me back as a hand puts an oxygen mask over my face as I gasp to fill my useless lungs with air. Someone shoves a nitroglycerin tablet into my mouth and slips a pulse ox meter on my finger.

“That’s it honey, deep breaths, just like that” they say.

I weakly try to remove the oxygen mask and choke out the words “no, her, baby”

“They’re on it” the woman moves aside to reveal three paramedics surrounding Lizzy and working in a perfectly choreographed dance.

One woman pounds on Lizzy’s chest so hard her breasts and belly cave in as a sicking “huf huf huf” sound escapes her mouth with each compression.

Another man kneels buy her feet with a stethoscope to her belly.

“We have a fetal heartbeat, holding steady at about 100, baby’s very stressed though.

I am suddenly terrified for the life of my child. “Please stay alive baby,” I thought, “I will give my weakly beating heart to keep you alive”

I continue to suck up oxygen through the mask as I feel my chest start to open and my heart return to a normal pace. I notice Lizzy’s feet bending inward with each intense compression as they rock her whole body. I see another medic tilt Lizzy’s head back and slip a metal hook into it to force her jaw open and insert a plastic tube. She suctions up the blood and foam that had been blocking Lizzy’s throat, then hooked up an ambu bag and forced precious air into her lungs.

“STAND CLEAR” someone yells and I see them blast another shock through her heart. This one was stronger than the others and her body jolted and then hit the ground flopping uselessly like a rag doll.

I watch in a haze until the words “we have a sinus rhythm, let’s pack up for transport.” snap me back into reality.

The paramedic kneeling next to me says”we have your wife and baby back but they’re still in a lot of danger, we are going to take them to the hospital now. You are going to follow them, your heart rate is very high and your pulse ox is very low.

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simpingfortheages · 3 years

Text

//COME STAY HERE WITH ME//

Sally Mckenna x fem reader

(SUSPENSE, FLUFF if you squint, ANGST, has a twist )

Promises aren't words without meaning. They leave a mark on your soul you need to fulfill.

The reader just isn't ready to make such a big commitment. Sally doesn't approve or believe her and she is determined to change that.

~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~

"Sally I love you of course I do. I will come back soon, i promise but you seriously cannot expect me to stay here forever" I argued with her as I hurriedly pack my carryon with unfolded clothes. Sally sat silently on the bed dwelling in her own thoughts. I could feel her sharp eyes bore into the back of my head as i maneuvered my way around the small room collecting my things. She didn't speak after i made that statement, no she just looked upon my sloppy movements .

The atmosphere in the room was stifling, the air was stale of sex and cigarette smoke. I was choking on the suspense of what Sally was going to do. I know she would never kill me, she promised me that. I was almost done packing when I turned around,only to meet her towering figure standing right behind me. She was a hair's width away. " I really wished you'd stay" she said in raspy low octave . There was not a door or window open to let a draft in, that was because it was her voice that sent shivers running and prickling along my spine. " I will come back to you very soon. I promise Sally" I replied to her, with a lack of commitment in my voice. Sally has managed to keep me stuck in the Cotez for 4 months. My family misses me, my job , my house was all waiting for me at home. I love Sally I really do, but I just wasn't ready. Sally slowed squinted her eyes at my response as though she was analyising each piece of word that left my mouth. I gave her a nervous side smile before I bent down to zip up my carryon. As I gathered my bag I made my way hesitantly toward the door. I felt as though Sally could read my mind. She may be a ghost but she doesn't have the special ability to read minds.

The humidity and tension in the room,caused beads to sweat to form and roll down the side of my face, the sticky and disgusting feeling of my shirt sticking to my armpits and my back didn't make my situation any easier. I squeezed my eyes tightly to try and get rid of the on coming headache, my stomach was churning. It was getting hard to breathe at this point. I gripped the copper handle of the hotel door and slowed turned it to make my way out of the room. *SLAM* the door was shut. I blinked a few times to understand what just happened. I looked at the door only to see a black chipped nail polished hand pressing firmly against it. My suspicions were confirmed. It was Sally who shut the door. The coldness from her close proximity radiated off her ghost form, but the breathe I felt on the nape of my neck was warm and inviting. Sally was really close. I didn't even realised my breathe was held, I was making myself feel faint just by her being close to me. I didn't have to turn around and face Sally since she was already leaning over my fraile form . She moved herself closer to place her red messy lipstick lips near my right ear. " You really didn't think I'd let you leave..." Sally began whispering in my ear. I didn't let her finish her sentence, she was cut off from the loud release of shakey breathe I was previously holding. Fuck! Sally was going to kill me right here and now I thought. Her soft frizzy hair was brushing my sweaty hot face, but the way my body was reacting didn't affect her. Sally wouldn't care if i were covered in blood so why would sweat deter her. She was nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck, without thinking I closed my eyes and leaned into her. The gentle kisses that she left upon my neck each sent small electrical pulses down to my stomach. She knew what she was doing. " like I was saying y/n,you really didn't think I'd let you leave....without your phone?" She said in a teasing manner as she pushed the device into my hands. Sally angled her head even closer to the side of my face , my facial expression was one of relief. However my heart still said otherwise, the rapid palpitation of each beat could have been heard if not for the muffled sound of traffic on the streets outside. It took me a while to find my words of gratitude, but Sally was patient. She continued to stare and admire the every twitch and subtle movement my face made. I couldn't bring myself to meet her hopeful eyes. Her eyes held a wanting future with me at the Cortez, she spoke many time how the least painful way to kill me was like Overdose with the use of her white China...but I didn't want any of that. I love Sally. Just not to death. Her body was now pressed against me, it was not one of a sexual manner just one to give the feeling that I was her prey and she was the predator.

Sally does scare me. No one knows the extent that she will go to keep something or someone she wants, there's no real way to stop a ghost such as herself. I forced myself to mumble a thank you, which would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for her face being so close to mine. Sally only replied with a soft pur, she really knew what she was doing because my toes curled at the erotic sound the woman made . We stayed in this position for a couple more seconds but not before Sally moved closer to my neck and licked a wet strip along the side of it. A pathetic whimper ripped it's way from my throath into the still air of the room. She swiftly removed her palm from the door allowing me to leave. My body was flustered and longed for more contact with Sally. She has me wrapped around her finger and boy did she know that. I wasn't going to throw myself into her arms, this time I am committed to leaving the Cotez. As I opened the door to exit, the warm air from the hallway came rushing in to mix with the cold air that was created inside the room. I turned around to wish Sally goodbye....but she was gone. I couldn't feel her presence anymore in the room. Maybe she was else where. The walk to the elevator was a long one, I tried to look down each corridor to see if she was lingering near by. No luck.

Did she not miss me? Will she move onto someone else?. As the elevator doors opened my thoughts were interuppted. The lobby was empty, no Liz and Iris arguing. The help desk just sat there in silence. I fumbled with my bags waking towards the exit. A feeling of unwanted and doubt returned in my stomach. Was this the right choice? I have already made it this far. I have been trying to leave the Hotel for the past 2 weeks. I furrowed my eyebrows at the thought of me succumbing to my weakness . No. I am going to leave. I will return to visit Sally, of course I will, but I just couldn't stay here forever. I took a deep breath, the cold icey air filled my lungs giving me a new sense of confidence. I marched my way towards the exit, taking one last look at the place I called me home for the past months.

I was almost to the door when i felt a sudden drop in temperature. The hairs at the back of my neck was now alert. The silence was in room was filed with Crying??? I turned my heels and saw her standing in the middle of the lobby with black tears running down her porcelain face. My heart broke at the sight. "YOU'RE REALLY LEAVING ME??" Sally screamed into the quietness of.the lobby. I visibly flinched at the level her voice raised, I opened my mouth and basically explained to Sally that it was only going to be for a while and that I would return to the Cortez and that I do love her. Her face that was once filled with hurt and anger was slowly replaced with confusion but slight understanding. The pout her bottom lip did and the way her brown doe eyes looked at me, made me drop my carryon. I

impulsively ran towards Sally and enveloped my arms around her. She immediately returned the hug, while I nudged my face into her chest as she rested her head upon my head. Sally felt like home but there was still so much for me to do outside the Hotel.

Her embrace was like poison to me yet it was the antidote at the same time. Time seemed to not exist at this exact moment. I felt Sally turn her head and rest her cheek on the top of my head trying to get as close to me as possible. Even though almost every night for 4 months we cuddled like this, I will never get enough of it. However, I really needed to get going, I loosened my grip around her waist in hopes of her understanding to let go, but she remained hugged me in her arms. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, " Sally baby let go" I requested, my voice was still kind of muffled since my face was basically pressed against the material of her dress. Sally silence my request with an elongated shush, as she increased the hold she had around my body. It was getting hard to even breathe, Sally was basically smothering me . I wedged my hands between our bodies and pressed the heels of my palm into her chest . Trying to push myself away with everything I have to break free of her deadly hold. At this point the only think that filled my nose and lungs were the cheap perfume Sally wore that her victim's brought with them to the Hotel. "SALLY WHAT THE FUCK LET GO" I screamed. I wiggled and started to hyperventilate still fighting her. Sally didn't budge. "GOD SALLY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WIT-" ....no....she wouldn't . She said she wouldn't. My mind was going haywire at the thought. I stopped fighting against her and let my arms drop to the side. What the fuck??? There it was again. A sharp burning sensation in my back. It was hurting to breathe at this point. The pain was unbareable, sounds of agony and pain escaped my throath as hot tears cascaded down my face. The combination of the pain in my back and the difficulty to breathe was too much for me. Sally's grip around me was now loose enough for me to shove her off and step back. I felt weak, my knees buckled and gave out, I fell to the floor landing on my knees. The new angle allowed me to get a good view of Sally. She was smiling with joy, tear of happiness running down her face. The bitch welded a fucking kitchen kife covered in crimson blood,not just any blood. It was my blood .Sally Mckenna stabbed me in my back . My lover was planning on killing me. The wounds she created started poured a bloody waterfall down my back and onto the floor.

Sally smiled even bigger at the sight, she had this glint of something in her eyes. I couldn't tell what it was but my blood or whatever was still left in me began to boil. I hated Sally so much right now. There's no way in hell am I going to die in this fucking Hotel and be stuck here with her for all eternity. I gritted my teeth in pain and forced myself to push Sally onto the ground. It may not have been much but she fell back on the carpeted floor. This gave me time to turn on my knees and crawl towards to exit of the Cotez,to make quicker haste of my actions, I dropped down flat onto my stomach and tired to army crawl my way out of here. I craned my head backwards to see where Sally was but she was already back on her feet, the look of anger and annoyance was casted upon her face. I never stopped crawling away from her, the carpet that decorated the floor was now covered in a trail of my blood, my elbows were getting carpet burn but i didn't care. I heard the movements of Sally shifting behind me,she could have stopped me a long time now,but she just wanted to stand there and look down at me. It was sick. Her heel clicks were muffled into the floor, as they got closer. I screamed for help non stop, she didn't like that I was getting closer to the door. Sally grabbed me by my ankles pulling me away from my freedom. I tried to kick her away but my body was too weak. My nails were breaking and bleeding as I scratch along the carpet trying to grab hold of anything. I cried out in pain but Sally didn't care, " oh baby no come stay here with me" she cooed trying to calm me down. She managed to drag me away from the door. I knew if I even escaped her hold I wouldn't make the distance. So I cried, the adrenaline that was coarsing through my blood was now decreasing. My heart beat was soft and my eye lids were heavy. Sally parted her legs and pulled me flush against her chest. My back wounds made rough contact with her but I was too weak to even hiss. She was cruel, Sally sat me in such a way that I had clear view of the door.

I could see it, the sun shining down on all the people who walked the streets, the cars the hurriedly drove pass the Hotel . I detested the sight. I could have been one of those people who went about living their life. I was no longer crying, the tear tracks on my face were fresh but no more followed. Sally repated kissed the side of my temple whispering silent I love you's. I zoned her out at this point. If i was going to die in the Cortez that doesn't mean I have to interact with her. I hate you Sally. I hate you. "Y/N?" Sally spoke, breaking my silent brooding. I didn't acknowledge her but she knew she had my attention. " I'm going to speed up the process, so we can be together even faster" I ignored her, there was nothing more i could do. Sally gripped the knife that was covered in my blood and quickly slashed it across my neck. My eyes went wide. All i saw was red. My lungs quickly filled with my own blood, the only taste that painted my tongue was metallic. I cried for help but blood gushed its way out instead. My body began to feel prickly and cold. So this is how it felt to die. My vision became blurred, the doorway of the hotel was now unrecognizable. " close your eyes baby I am here...I will be here went you are awake" Sally whispered into my ears as she held me tighter. I complied, I closed my eyes and felt all the warmth slowly leave my body. This is how I died. I died by the hands and embrace of my so called ghost lover.

~~~~~~~time skip ~~~~~~~

I groaned as I stirred awake, I couldn't see properly but I could feel a weight on my chest,but it wasn't uncomfortable. I needed to blink a couple of times to clear my vision. I knew I was back in the Hotel but where was I exactly ? Apparently my shifting cause the weight on my chest to be lifted. I looked down and saw that it was Sally who was resting on me. My vision was still a little blurry, but i could have seen that she was smiling at me with her red bottom lip tuck away under her teeth. I tried to move but Sally moved her hand that was resting on my thigh and pressed it against my bare chest,shoving me back down onto the mattress. It dawned on me that I was completely naked,expect for the fact that I was wearing her leopard print coat. She saw the perplexed look on my face and answered the question in my head. "Your clothes were bloody, so I showered and wrapped you up in my coat.". I looked around and now realised that we back in her apartment. Room 64. I had so many questions, I wanted to yell at her but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a soft "why?..." She looked at me with admiration and love. Her hands were wondering all over my naked body, ghosting over all my moles and scars. " You were going to break your promise, I just made sure you fulfilled it." She said in a matter of fact tone.

Sally punctuated the sentence with a kiss upon my chest. "You stabbed me and slit my throath why that way?" I further questioned the ghost. " You needed to hurt Y/N like how you hurt me , but it's all okay now because we are the same and we have each other" Sally justified . She moved to straddle me and cup my face as she recited the statement. Her forehead was now pressed against mine, and I could have felt the warmth of her breathe brushing across my face. Sally kissed me, but the kiss was not one of love ,it was one of fulfillment. She got what she wanted. Sally slipped her tongue pass my lips to deepened the kiss, I could hear the change in her breathing. It was loud and heavy. She was created a heated kiss, but I couldn't allow that to happen right now.

So i took my hands to shove her off of me.*CLINK* what the fuck??? I cut off Sally's kiss to turn my head and see what was the reason for the sound . My right hand was handcuffed to the bed. Sally looked down at my chest smirking as she rubbed her hands up and down from my chest up to my neck. She was ignoring the look of concern that was painted on my face. "Sally what the fuck??? Uncuff me" I demanded. All she did was laugh at my words. Sally crawled further up my body and played with the curls of my hair with her index finger. " no" was all she said. "What do you mean no??" I raged. Her patience was running thin now, her smile transformed into a scowl. Her hands gripped and dug into my jaw, " You are dead so that means you don't need food,you don't need sleep, you no longer need the requirements of the living."she spat her words out like it was venom. "You think I don't know you baby?"She continued, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes shifted from between my lips and my eyes every few seconds. " You cannot escape me and I am not going to let you avoid me" she finished. I was scrambling for words," wha-i but- sally you cannot keep me chained here" my voice was lowered this time, I spoke softly trying to get on her good side." I know baby but when you come back to me and understand that what i did was for us, I will uncuff you." Sally kissed my forehead and returned to her previous position of lying down on top of me. Her head was resting on my heart ,but I doubt she would be able to hear a beat. Silence surrounded the both of us, I tilted my head backwards hitting the bedrest with a soft thud. I accepted that this was now my faith and my future. My eyes were glued to the ceiling, taking in the smallest details, eventually focusing on the small cobweb being built in the corner. Sally whispered softly into the peaceful silence " y/n my love next time you should remember that promises are not just words spoken."

#sally mckenna x reader #sally mckenna #Angst #w/w #lesbian #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #ahs hotel #hypodermic sally #ahs fanfiction #Hypodermic Sally x reader

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vnderoos · 4 years

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oblivious ✷ harry potter

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language word count / 3.2k

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A SOFT, ORANGE LIGHTING WAS SMOOTHED over Ginny Weasley's face as she and Y/N Y/L/N sat on the leather sofa in front of the fireplace. The Gryffindor common room was mostly quiet, save for the occasional house members passing through, but other than that, they had the whole lounge to themselves. Ginny was tucked into the corner of the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest, and Y/N was sprawled out over the arm, her legs sticking straight out in front of her. It was a surprise that the red-headed girl even fit on there at all, really, with how much space her friend was taking up.

Y/N let out a loud sigh and she threw her head back, her body curving over the armrest and letting her hair dangle down beneath her. "I just don't understand how someone can be so blind. Harry is honestly just the cutest thing, but I swear, this is driving me up a wall," she complained, another whiny groan slipping from her mouth as she ran her hands over her face in frustration. "I mean, I thought I made it quite obvious, but Merlin, Ginny, he is so painfully oblivious. I really don't know how much clearer I could make it." Her voice was muffled as she spoke between her fingers, letting her arms flop over the couch only after she'd finished.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Y/N's distress and she propped one of her elbows up on the armrest on her side of the couch, resting her chin on top of her fist. "You could always tell the man, you know," she suggested matter-of-factly, accompanied by a small shrug of her shoulders, and she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear with her free hand.

Y/N was quick to sit up from her limp position, properly sitting herself up and crossing her legs on her side of the sofa. She shot Ginny an incredulous look. "Tell him? No way," she scoffed. "What if he hasn't 'picked up' on anything because he doesn't like me like that? I can't imagine he wants me to hurt myself with my pathetic little crush, so maybe he's just thinking of a way to let me down easy or something," she theorized, honestly willing to believe anything if it meant she didn't have to spit out her feelings for what they were. She much preferred the whole 'shamelessly-flirting-until-he-either-rejected-her-or-confessed' ordeal.

Even though it seemed entirely unlikely that Harry was going to do either anytime soon.

Ginny couldn't help but laugh, placing her free hand over half of her face as she did. "You talk a lot about Harry, but you're just as clueless as he is, really," she pointed out and Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. "The two of you are constantly dancing around each other. It's getting sad to watch," she continued, letting her hand fall across her knees as she spoke.

"I am not, Ginny." Y/N clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. "I think I would've noticed if he was showing interest, too," she defended.

The Weasley girl giggled and she pretended to go along with her words. "If it helps you sleep at night, then sure," she tutted. After that, Ginny straightened her legs out over the side of the couch and she stood up. "But, if we're done with that, do you think the house elves have any leftover pastries from dinner?" she questioned and Y/N shrugged.

She followed Ginny's lead and got to her feet, straightening out her clothes when she was standing straight up. "I could go for a tart or two, so if you wanted to go look, I wouldn't say no to tagging along," she offered.

"We'd better get to the kitchens soon, then."

Then, almost as if she and Ginny had summoned them, a group of Gryffindor boys were making their way into the common room just as the girls were making their way out. Y/N barely had time to put faces or names to any of them before she walked smack-dab into one of their chests. "Oh," she huffed as the slight impact knocked some of the breath from her lungs and the boy's hands wrapped around each of her arms to steady her. She smiled sheepishly, staring down at his shoes and planning to thank him, but when her eyes trailed upwards, the heat that rushed to her cheeks was immediate. Her eyes locked with Harry Potter's, in all of his pale-skinned and messy-haired glory, and it was like her heart skipped a beat. Pull it together, Y/N.

"God, Harry, I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going—"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I should've been more careful, but I—"

The two of them started to apologize at the same time, both cutting themselves off when they realized what they were doing, and Y/N swore she turned three shades pinker. Part of her hoped Harry wouldn't say anything, but something told her he didn't even notice at all.

"Oh, it's fine," she hummed, once again, at the same time as Harry, but he'd replaced her 'fine' with an 'alright'. She opened her mouth to say something else, but her mind had suddenly gone blank as she stared up at him. Even dulled by the shine of his glasses, his green eyes were still twinkling as he looked down at her, and her stomach churned. She wanted to say something that wouldn't make her seem like a complete idiot but all she could stutter out was, "You— um, your hands, Harry."

Y/N wanted to smack herself in the head when she saw the surprised look that flickered onto his face. His eyebrows shot upwards as he looked down at his hands, which were still steadily gripping her biceps, and he pulled them back quickly. "Merlin, sorry," he whispered, almost to himself, and he flashed her a nervous smile. It was quite cute, actually, and she returned it with one that was just as awkward.

Somewhere behind them, Ron cleared his throat, obviously trying to get them to speed things up a bit, and Y/N flashed him a half-grin.

"I guess," she paused, pointing at Ginny who was watching the entire scene unfold with a scrunched up nose and curled lip (wondering how bloody unaware two people could possibly be). "I guess I'll be going now," she hummed and Harry nodded his head. She moved to step around him at the same time he went to do the same, but she found herself in the same position when they both stepped in the same direction. "Sorry," she laughed and when she moved again, Harry moved with her.

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle as she got herself into a sort of back-and-forth dance with him, and it wasn't until he placed his hands on her waist and spun the two of them around that they found themselves on the sides that they needed to be on. "Right. You'll be off now, yeah?" he asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, thank you," she hummed, pivoting on her foot. "Bye, Harry."

"Bye, Y/N," Harry stammered out in return, his voice cracking a bit over the first word, but she hardly noticed as she started towards the kitchen with Ginny. As she walked away, leaving the guys behind her, she could hear them laughing amongst themselves. One of them—Seamus, she figured—said something in a high pitched voice and the laughter only intensified. "Oh, bugger off," Harry yelled in return.

Y/N shook her head, letting out a huff of amusement at their boyish behavior, and she looked over at Ginny, who was already looking at her. Ginny's eyebrows were cocked and her arms were crossed over her chest. "Do I have to say 'I told you so' or have you picked up on what just happened back there?" she inquired, waggling a finger back in the direction of Harry and the others.

"What?" Y/N shrilled, peeking over her shoulder. It wasn't like any of them would be behind them, anyways, but her gaze had followed Ginny's finger on instinct. "That was a perfectly normal interaction, Gin. You didn't tell me anything," she argued, whipping her head around to watch where she was going again.

Ginny threw her hands out in frustration. "Why don't you just tell him you like him?" she blurted.

Y/N's jaw dropped and her eyebrows knitted together, because was Ginny daft? "I can't," she refused. "What if he doesn't like me and I just embarrass myself?" she explained.

The redhead didn't seem to be having it and she grabbed Y/N's wrist before she even had a chance to pull it away. "You know what? I'm so tired of watching this," she said as he started back towards the main section of the common room, which they'd just left from.

Y/N flashed her friend another 'what-the-hell' look. "Ginny, what on Earth are you doing?" she yelled—as quietly as she could, which sort of defeated the purpose—as Ginny forcefully dragged her back towards the room. She tried to wipe the look of annoyance off of her face when they reentered the room, where the boys were chuckling over something one of them had said.

"I'm getting this over with once and for all," Ginny said, not even bothering to be discreet as she marched right over to the group with Y/N. Ron and Seamus exchanged confused glances and Harry looked up at Y/N, cutting his laughter short. He nodded at her with a tilt of his head, like a cute, little puppy, and she smiled at him in a silent apology for the events that were about to unfold. "Harry, you like Y/N, don't you?" She knew that Ginny was going to say something stupid the moment they'd turned around, but she didn't expect that.

She watched as Harry's cheeks flushed a bright pink, and instead of hers doing the same, she could feel herself pale, like all of the blood had left her face. She could hear the thudding of her heart in her ears as it suddenly started to pick up the pace. She had no idea what Ginny was thinking and she really wasn't appreciating this. "I mean, yeah, she's great," Harry answered hesitantly, promoting Ginny to look over at the girl beside her. "I'm not sure I understand what's happening," he followed up, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose.

Ginny tore her eyes away from Y/N. "I know you think she's great, but you like her, don't you?" She continued.

Y/N's eyes blew wide at the question and she gasped, wasting no time in ripping her arm out of Ginny's grasp. With her newly freed hands, she shoved her lightly to the side. "Bloody hell, Ginevra, do you ever shut up?" she all-but-yelled and she watched as Ginny stumbled to the side, laughter bubbling up out of her lips. As Y/N's stomach swirled and her face grew hot, she didn't realize what was so funny about it all.

In fact, she almost felt like she was going to vomit.

Ron, Seamus, and even Dean, had all joined in on the laughter, fueling Y/N's white-hot embarrassment, as she looked at Harry. His eyes were almost as wide as hers and he opened his mouth to say something, to ask another question or even apologize for his friends' behavior, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Y/N on the other hand, felt like the entire room was spinning. All she could think about was her friends laughing and how her secret was out now, and it was all Ginny's fault.

She could feel tears stinging in the spaces behind her eyes and she ran a hand nervously through her hair. Part of her wanted to hex the shit out of Ginny right then and there, but she was more worried about the fact that Harry hadn't said anything. Ron had his hand on Harry's shoulder, steadying himself as he doubled over in laughter, and Harry hadn't said anything.

She couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, with her heart in her throat, and she was running out of the room before she could change her mind.

"Y/N, wait—" Harry called after her, but she ignored him.

She pushed the portrait of the Fat Lady open wide and she climbed through the hole as quick as she could. She ignored the questions from the woman as she pressed the painting closed behind her, and when she stepped out onto the staircases, she was running as far down as she could get. She was almost surprised she hadn't fallen down a whole flight, considering she could barely see through the tears that prickled in her eyes. She couldn't believe that Ginny had put her on the spot like that.

They were supposed to be friends—best friends—and best friends weren't supposed to embarrass each other in front of Harry bloody Potter.

Y/N only stopped running when she reached an empty corridor, at the bottom of one of the staircases she'd ran down. There were no windows there, only open balconies, and the cool breeze that blew through brought the only movement in the entire hall. She sat herself down on the bottom step and buried her face in her hands. She was done crying by then, but she didn't know if she'd ever get over her bout of crippling mortification.

After a few moments of sitting alone, replaying the incident over in her head, she could hear footsteps at the top of the stairs. "Y/N." She heard his voice and her heart nearly stopped in her chest.

She turned around to look at Harry, who was making his way down the staircase. His eyes were warm and sympathetic, and his eyebrows were furrowed gently. "Harry, I'm sorry," she mumbled as he took a seat beside her on the step. "I had no idea she was going to do that, I—"

She started to continue, wanting nothing more than to defend herself and clear the air between them, but he shook his head with a small smile. "It's okay, really," he promised, letting out a soft laugh as he threw his arm over her shoulder and hugged her into his side. He looked down at her for a moment or two before his smile faltered slightly. "Were you crying, Y/N/N?" he questioned and his voice was quiet, like he was afraid he might scare her off.

"No," she denied quickly, but he didn't seem to buy it. "Maybe."

"Why? It wasn't that bad." Harry moved his arm, resting his hand on her knee instead.

Y/N sighed. "Because I'm embarrassed, Harry. Ginny humiliated me in front of everyone, in front of you," she explained and she laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes locking on his hand. "I'm sure you've gathered how I feel about you by now, too, yeah? Thanks to her," she grumbled.

Harry laughed softly and he gave her knee a comforting squeeze. "I mean, I ought to be thanking her. If she hadn't done that, I never would've known how you felt," he admitted.

She sat up in an instant at that, turning to look at him with a dumbfounded look on her face. "Really, Harry? I thought I'd been obvious about it," she told him.

He shrugged his shoulders as a sheepish smile settled onto his face. "I thought you were just being nice because you heard I was the Chosen One, or something," he explained.

"What?" Y/N laughed. "You think I'm that shallow?" she questioned.

Harry was quick to shake his head, holding his free hand out defensively. "No, no. I didn't mean it that way, I just thought it seemed impossible that you'd like me back," he hummed in confession. "It seemed too good to be true, so I just settled for that instead."

"Are you kidding me? You're— wait," she started, but when she registered his words, she cut herself off. Everything seemed to fall silent as her hopeful eyes met his. "Like you back? Does that mean..." she trailed off and Harry nodded once. Her heart was about to beat out of her chest. "Are you serious?" She asked.

"I mean, yeah."

"Ginny didn't put you up to this?"

Harry shook his head softly. "No, it was of my own free will," he promised to her.

Y/N couldn't help the giddy smile that tugged its way onto her face and she looked down shyly, as if to hide it. "Okay," she hummed.

At that, he shot her a scrunched up look. "Okay?" he repeated. "That's it? Just okay?"

"Well, I don't know what else I'm supposed to say," she protested. "You already know I'm mad for you," she told him.

He laughed and offered her a small shrug. "I mean, it doesn't involve much talking, but I might have an idea," he hummed, his eyes flickering to her lips, and he brought his free hand to cup her jawline.

Y/N could feel her face grow warm beneath his touch and she fought a grin. "Oh," she muttered, staring into his eyes for a moment and looking for any sign that this wasn't real, that he didn't want this, but she couldn't find one. "What're you waiting for, Potter? I don't bite," she teased and he sputtered out a small laugh.

Instead of waiting for him to kiss her, she grabbed Harry by his shirt and planted her lips against his. He laughed against her mouth as he kissed her, pulling away so he could kiss her nose, both of her cheeks, and then her mouth once more. All of his kisses felt so sweet, each one instilling a certain warmth in her that made her feel like she was home. Harry's lips were slotted into her own, pressing pecks to her top lip and the corners of her mouth, and when he pulled away from her, she couldn't remember another time where she'd seen him smile so big.

"As fun as this is, I think should get back now. It's almost curfew," he pointed out and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip.

Y/N pressed a kiss to his finger and she nodded. "Yeah, you're right." Harry pulled his hands off of her lightly and stood up, offering one of his hands down to her and she took it with a grateful smile.

He pulled her to her feet and they made their way back to the common room, hand-in-hand.

Ginny and the boys were sprawled over the sofa and various other chairs, and they all looked up when the two entered the room. A cheeky smile crossed onto her lips and she winked at them. "Well, it's about bloody time," Ron stayed, gesturing to their intertwined fingers, and Y/N looked at Harry with a smile. He placed a kiss against her temple.

"You're welcome," Ginny piped up.

Y/N simply hit her a clean middle finger.

↴

taglist / @umpoedameron @pvintbreak

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #daniel radcliffe #daniel radcliffe imagines #daniel radcliffe x reader #hogwarts #hogwarts imagines #hogwarts x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy tiktok

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phantom-curve · 3 years

Text

For @panickosdisordr2, set in a high school AU where everyone is alive, I give you absolutely flustered Luke and poor, sweet, long-suffering Julie.

#38: stroking their leg & #41: sitting close and knees touching

Luke was still getting used to the fact that being Julie’s boyfriend meant he didn’t have to be so nervous about touching her anymore. For so long he had been forced to overthink every single interaction with her, needing to constantly toe the line of friendship even when he wanted so much more. Every touch, every lingering glance, had to be just this side of friendly. And no, he wasn’t always successful. Quite often his glances lingered a beat too long and his touches came close to being more proprietary than he had any right acting as a friend. Luke had made a list of rules to keep himself in check and he repeated them over and over before, during, and after he spent time with Julie.

Rule #1: No looking at Julie for longer than 30 60 seconds.

(30 seconds had been the goal, but who was he kidding? Julie was a freaking wrecking ball of musical talent and wickedly beautiful. 45 seconds was the absolute minimum he could handle, and even that was kind of pushing it.)

Rule #2: No writing blatantly obvious songs about Julie.

(Because really, every song was about Julie. But Julie didn’t need to know every song was about her. And Alex and Reggie really, really didn’t need to know, and no, just because they guessed didn’t mean they knew.)

Rule #3: No looking at Julie’s lips unless there was a microphone between them.

(He barely managed this one, which was why he kept sharing the mic with her more and more the longer they practiced and the more comfortable they became preforming together. It was the best kind of torture, and it wasn’t creepy, Alex, pay attention to drumming and not front people stuff!)

Rule #4: No touching Julie except for her shoulders and her arms and her waist (but only if they were hugging!)

(So what if Luke made sure to hug Julie a lot. He was a touchy-feely kind of guy, everyone knew that, and he only hugged someone after making sure they were okay with it. Julie never pushed him away, in fact she seemed to like the fact that he was so open with affection and comfort. It was fine.)

But dating Julie meant that all of those rules went right out the window. And Luke was still figuring out how to navigate that.

Julie didn’t seem to have any problems on her end. She slipped seamlessly from best friend to girlfriend without missing a beat. She would lean into him when they sat next to each other during lunch and move his hair out of his face without hesitation as she gazed into his eyes with a million stars dancing in her own. Her touch was casual but affectionate, her fingertips almost always finding some patch of skin to skim across whenever he was within arm’s reach. She kissed her way along his skin with an enviable ease, never holding back because she wasn’t sure he would like it, but instead blazing a path along his cheek or his collarbone or molding her lips against his as if she had always known that was what he so desperately desired most in the world.

Luke would never tell her, but part of his hesitation was because he felt wholly undeserving of her unwavering devotion. What had he ever done to earn someone as bright and beautiful as Julie Molina? He knew if he told her, she would have a million and one reasons why he was wrong, so he mostly kept it to himself and reveled in her easy affection every chance that he got. He should have known that eventually she would call him out on it.

“Luke...do you...not want me to touch you?”

He just hadn’t expected her to ask like that.

They were working on a new song out in the studio, a place Julie had chosen that he had assumed was because she didn’t want Carlos bothering them and because they had easier access to their instruments out there. They were sharing the couch, sitting across from each other with a shared notebook open between them, offering different lyric ideas back and forth as they tried to nail down the right lines. Luke hadn’t even realized that Julie had slowly been moving closer. He had only registered the feeling of their knees brushing occasionally, skin touching skin because his jeans were ripped, and she was wearing a pair of shorts to combat the stifling LA heat. Every time she had leaned in, he had leaned back, his years long set of rules so engrained he had forgotten that he didn’t have to follow them anymore. It was only when Julie quietly posed her question, teeth peeking out to bite down on her lower lip, cute little top gap flashing at him and reminding him that she was his girlfriend now, that he realized what he had been doing.

“Julie, no, of course I want you to touch me!”

Luke felt himself flush from head to toe as he realized how his words had sounded. He scrambled forwards, knocking their knees together painfully, although Julie, to her credit, didn’t even flinch. He took a deep, stuttering breath and tried again.

“I didn’t...I wasn’t trying to move away from you. I just...sometimes I forget I get to do that now.”

Julie quirked a brow and tilted her head slightly. Luke wanted to scratch his eyeballs out so he never had to see her looking so hurt and confused again. He groaned, reaching behind his head to give his hair a soft tug, recentering himself in the moment. He forced himself to meet Julie’s gaze and explain in a way that would actually make sense. He also made sure to scoot forward a bit so that their kneecaps were firmly pressed together, skin to skin.

“I just...for so long I wanted to be able to touch you in any way and have it be totally normal and okay.”

The words weren’t flowing perfectly, and Luke cursed the fact that Julie was able to scramble his brains and mess with the one thing he had always felt confident in. He pushed on though, because this was Julie, and if anyone was going to understand him, it was her.

“But I didn’t...I couldn’t...we weren’t like that, you know? We were friends and yeah, I love my friends, and I hug my friends, and I’m affectionate with them or whatever, but with you it was...different. I didn’t want to just be friends. But I also didn’t know what you wanted, and more than not wanting to just be friends, I didn’t want to not be a friend, so I made these rules. Rules about how I couldn’t say too much or do too much or touch you too much because it would mean more to me than it would to you and that wasn’t fair. And then everything changed, and you liked me too, and now we’re like a freaking dream, like I don’t always believe it kinda dream, and so I fall back on the rules. Because what if I say too much or do too much or touch you too much and I ruin everything?”

That...was a lot more than he had meant to say. But Julie wasn’t looking at him with judgement in her gaze. Her eyes were gentle and warm, her lips parting almost as if she was in awe, her features softening completely. She reached forward, slowly and deliberately, to place her hands along his thighs, just above where their knees were still touching. She leaned in, the pressure of her hands strong and steady, her scent invading his senses until everything in his world shrunk down to nothing more than JulieJulieJulie.

“You could never say or do too much. And you 100% could never touch me too much. Do you know how long I waited for you? Do you know how many rules I tried to come up with, how many nights I told myself over and over again that I needed to just get over you because it was never gonna happen? How many times I was so sure I was going to ruin the band and our friendship because I was so stupidly in love with you and nothing I did could stop it?”

Luke was having a hard time remembering how to breathe. He hadn’t ever thought about any of that. Because Julie had always seemed so confident and self-assured. She had been the one to make the first move that turned them from friends to more. She had been the one to confess how she felt first. She had always been his safety net, taking the plunge before he could, reassuring him so that when he stepped off the ledge, he knew she would be there to catch him.

“God, I love you so much,” his words were fierce and intense as he touched his forehead to hers and whispered them into the small space between their lips. “What the hell would I do without you?”

“Well, you’d probably still be trying to figure out the bridge and ending to Edge of Great without me.”

Luke growled and lunged forward, tackling Julie to the couch, and smothering her shriek beneath his lips. He felt her mouth curve into a smile, the kiss turning sloppy as she giggled uncontrollably. Her hands wound around his shoulders, twisting into the hair along the nape of his neck and threatening to turn him boneless against her. He broke away, propping himself up on his forearms so that his body remained stretched out along hers as he stared down at her.

“I can’t believe I get to be with you. You promise it’s not a dream?”

“If you’re dreaming, I’m dreaming. And I don’t think we can actually share dreams no matter how much we love each other. So, you’d better believe it, babe. I’m yours, forever.”

That did turn Luke boneless, every inch of his being melting down on top of hers, so they were connected from head to toe. Julie didn’t protest. She just pulled him closer, whispered you’ll always be mine against the skin of his neck, her breath hot and spellbinding against his skin. Luke didn’t argue. Who could argue with a goddess like Julie and expect to win? The best prize of all was knowing she loved him just as deeply as he loved her; he wasn’t about to try and convince her otherwise.

If Luke was able to love Julie for the rest of her life, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough for him to show her how much he cared. But that’s what ever afters were made for, right? A lifetime and then some. Luke knew with every fiber of his being that he would love Julie far past the time their respective stars burned out. That’s what destinies were all about. Loving forever and ever and ever. Even after you thought you were gone, the legacy lived on, timeless and unbreakable. That was them. Forever and a day, no end in sight for the rest of eternity.

#I'm on a soft Juke train tonight and I cannot be stopped #choo choo motherfuckers #THEY JUST LOVE EACH OTHER OKAY #will I ever write Luke without making him insecure in the face of Julie's incredibility? probably not #mads writes #jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jukebox #jatp ficlet #juke ficlet #julie molina #luke patterson #send me prompts for my birthday!

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Shifted

Thomas decides to see what all the Side’s animal forms would be. It does not go so well for Anxiety.

This is set pre accepting anxiety, and diverges a little from the cannon of that episode, fair warning.

He is terrified. His heart is pounding as he pulls further back into the shadows, hiding under the couch. He can hear the others out there, talking, laughing, having fun. This isn’t fun.

“An owl? Really, Thomas, owls aren’t even actually smart, their eyes take up much of their cranial cavity.”

“Come on, kiddo, they are symbols of wisdom. And those wings sure must be nifty! I’m having a pawsome time myself!” A groan at the pun.

“I always thought Logan was a bit bird brained.” Roman mutters. “But seriously, a dragon? While the scales are quite flattering, it is a bit strange, considering I usually fight them.”

“I don’t know, Roman, I guess cause you’re always talking about questing I just settled on a fantasy creature. It is pretty cool." He rolls his eyes at the huff of pride he can hear as Roman no doubt puffs up his chest, flares his wings.

“Speaking of strange, where's anxiety?” his ears flatten against his head, pulse picking up again. They’re talking about him.

“He should be here. I did summon him.” Thomas, confused. He curses his inability to sink out in this form.

“Perhaps he has taken the form of a smaller animal and is hiding.” He almost hisses, could Logic shut up for once?

“Aw, maybe we should look for him! He’ll probably be so cute!”

“Please. That weirdo is probably a venomous spider or a little parasite. Who cares, where he is?” yes, thank you Roman, for once being not a moron.

“Patton, if you’re worried perhaps you can sniff him out. You are a cat, after all.” No. Nonono. Logic, shut it!

“Good idea, Logan. Give it a try!” and he is outta here before he even knows what he’s doing.

His terror skyrockets and he shoots out from under the couch to the startled yelps of everyone else. Everything is big, huge, compared to him, the living room seems endless.

The stairs, he just needs to get to the stairs and he'll be able to physically enter the mindscape, he’s so close-

Then there is the flap of wings, a victorious shriek, and talons are digging into his shoulders pinning him down.

“Well, what have we here?” He shoves aside his fear, proud as his voice comes out just as scathing and steady as ever.

“Get off, you overgrown lizard.” He bites out, Roman’s scaled head coming into view. He glares at Roman’s laughter.

“Anxiety, kiddo? Is that you?”

“No, its Joan, yes it’s me, Patton, now get off, Roman!” His heart is beating fast, too fast, and his words are wavering. He is afraid, afraid, afraid. He hates this, hates it, he just wants this to be over.

“Hmm. I don’t think I will. Think about it, Thomas. We have the opportunity here to get anxiety out of our way for good.” His stomach drops, his blood goes cold, he is shaking.

“Roman, what are you suggesting?” Logan, he can’t be considering this, please no, please!

“I mean, we don’t need to vanquish him. We can keep him like this. Put him in a cage, or something.”

“I'm not a pet, you idiot, and you can’t keep me like this forever.” He hisses out.

“Oh contraire, little mouse, we can keep you weak enough you don’t have any choice.” His heart lurches as he is lifted up, Roman's wings buffeting him, they are in the air.

“Roman, put me down! I… please! Pleasepleaseplease…” he is crying now, begging, because he can’t, this can’t be happening, they can’t actually intend to keep him locked in this form, weak and powerless, in a cage.

The floor seems so far away, and he feels sick, from the altitude shift or what is happening or both, he can’t tell. The anguished terror is filling him and he lets out a broken, choked sob.

This is what he gets, for thinking he could ever be accepted, for thinking he could ever be tolerated, much less liked. All he’d ever done was his job, and this is his reward.

“Logan, what-" he lets out a squeak despite himself as a blur of gray rams into Roman, sending him spiraling off balance.

Then he feels the talon’s grip slip, and he screams. He is falling, flipping through the air. From this height in this form his bones will break, shatter, with his luck his neck will snap. He has time to cry for help, before he impacts.

“Gotcha!” The halt is jarring, and he is shaking, instinctively flattening himself to make as small a target as possible as he tries to get ahold of himself. He realizes it’s soft, the ground.

He looks up and nearly screams again, instead flattening further. Patton has caught him, sitting on his back haunches, he is caught in Patton's front paws.

“p-p-put me d-down. Please.” His voice is a whisper, trembles making him stutter, but Patton instantly complies, much to his relief.

He hears a shriek and looks up, just in time to see silver talons coming right at him, then they crash into him and he feels a ripping pain in his shoulder.

He can hear Patton yelling, Logan screeching, Roman growling, and it is loud so loud and all he can think is he is about to die-

“Enough!” Thomas yells, and suddenly the ground isn’t so close, suddenly he is stumbling to his feet, lunging for his normal spot on the stairs, reaching it in two strides. He lets out a relieved sob as he clutches the bannister, looking back at the others.

Logan has landed in a heap on the couch. Patton and Roman are tangled around each other on the floor. Patton's gaze meets his, worried.

“kiddo, you’re bleeding.” He lifts his hand numbly to his shoulder, mildly surprised as it comes away sticky and red. He lets out a broken, bitter laugh.

“Gee, wonder how that happened. Not like someone was trying to kill me, or worse hold me captive and torture me for my whole existence." His voice is raw and instead of biting sarcasm, it comes out as an almost whisper, red rimmed eyes glaring at the floor as he shakes, from latent fear and pulsing anger.

“Anxiety-" he half successfully chokes back another sob, harsh laughter tearing at his lungs.

“no, know what, it’s fine. It’s fine, Thomas. I always knew I wasn’t wanted. I was an idiot to hope you might… might ever actually change, actually want me around. Hell, even care about me like I care about you and keeping you safe.” He can barely stand, he doesn’t know if it’s from the pain and blood loss or the adrenaline fading or the panic attack he can feel pressing against him, tightening his chest.

“Kiddo…” he shakes his head.

“Y'know, if you really wanted me dead, all you had to do was ask. I would’ve done it myself.” He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t see the pained shock on Patton's face, the suspicious surprise on Roman's, the horror on Logan’s. The pain on Thomas's. Instead, he flips up his hood, hugging himself as he wordlessly sinks out.

He managed to lock the door before he collapses to the floor. His chest feels like it's being squeezed by a boa constrictor, his ribs crushed and all the air shoved out of his lungs. His vision narrows to a dark pinprick, gaze unseeing as he sees Roman's talons again and again, falling and splattering against the floor, bones shattered, bars, a cage, closing in, pressing him tight, he can’t breathe, he’s choking, he’s dying, god, he’s going to die here. Why not? He laughs hysterically, that’s what they want, may as well give it to ‘em.

“virgil, no. It’s not what we all want. Come back to me, stormy. Focus on my voice. You can do it, Virgil.” Virgil. None of them know his name. Only, only…

“Dee?” he chokes out, blurry vision focusing enough to see Deceit, holding his hands in his lap, rubbing circles on his knuckles.

“There we are. Hello, dearest.” Deceit reaches up, softly wiping away his tears, brushing back his hair.

“I’m an idiot. I’m a stupid idiot.” He mutters.

“No. Virgil, you’re not. It’s ok.” He hisses in a breath of pain as Dee places a hand on his shoulder, vision going speckly at the slight contact. Dee pulls away, eyes wide, face darkening to fury.

“You’re hurt. Vee, you’re bleeding" he just shrugs, another sob clawing its way out of his throat.

“Doesn’t matter.” He whispers. Deceit hisses, and pulls him onto his lap.

“It does. Even if they don’t care, even if they don’t love you, I do. It matters to me. You will always matter to me. You’re my baby, Virg. Even if you’ve left the nest, you’re still my little rain storm. Got it?” He feels Dee's extra arms removing his hoodie, then all six are cradling him against Dee's chest, holding him tight and safe and secure, letting him relax and melt into the touch, knowing Dee will never let anything hurt him. He feels Dee press a kiss to his head.

“you’ve wiped yourself out, love. I'll take care of that nasty shoulder gash. Get some sleep, dearest.” Weakly, he clings to Dee's shirt. He doesn’t want him to let go, he doesn’t feel safe, if Dee lets go.

“I’m staying, darling. I’ll stay as long as you want.”

“remus-"

“can rain down all the hell he wants. Until you’re better, they deserve it.” He finds he can’t argue with that. He falls asleep to Dee humming softly, stroking his forehead and holding his hand, his other arms working to gently bandage his shoulder.

Deceit sighs as he hears a crash. Looking up, he sees Remus kick in the door, eyes aflame.

“who hurt him? Who’s ass do I gotta beat until it falls off?”

“hush. I just got him settled.” Dee replies. In three strides, Remus is beside him, head cocked unnaturally far to the side, like a snapped neck.

“He’s ok?” Remus asks, neck snapping back to a normal position with an audible click.

“yes. Keep an eye on him, please?”

“What? Where're you going?” Remus asks. Deceit’s eyes flash.

“I am going to go see what exactly those half-witted buffoons did to send him spiraling. Then I am going to determine whom it is I need to beat the shit out of.” Deceit growled, stepping away from the bed.

“Boo, you never let me have any fun.” Remus pouts. He instantly stops as Virgil lets out a small sound, immediately climbing into the bed with him and spooning around him. Virgil curls against him immediately, stilling as he clings onto Remus.

“Thank you.” Deceit murmurs from the doorway. Remus nods.

“I'll take care of our little stormy night. You go teach ‘em a lesson, Dee.” Remus replies, relishing the sharp fanged smile Deceit flashes him, before sinking out. As an afterthought, he snaps, replacing the door, before turning his attention to Virgil, trying to mentally send him all of his love. Virgil is more of a brother to him than Roman has ever been, and he hates seeing him hurt.

“hang in there, vee. Dee'll fix everything.”

“I highly doubt he wants to be called right now.”

“But he was so scared! We have to help!”

“I don’t know Pat, seeing us might make it worse.” He clears his throat. He meets three sets of surprised eyes with steel. Thomas yelps and falls backwards, catching himself on the wall.

“Who is that?!”

“Deceit, you scurrilous snake, what are you doing here?” his eyes narrow at that.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Roman, was I not wanted here at this exact moment?” his voice is a perfect mimicry of Virgil's, and to his satisfaction it makes Roman flinch.

“Thomas. This is Deceit. He is responsible for the lies you tell not only others, but yourself. I am puzzled as to why you have appeared now. To my knowledge, no lies have been spoken.” Logan explains, and his hands ball into fists.

“Oh, truly, why ever would I be here? It'ssss not like Anxiety returned bloody and injured, in the midsssst of a panic attack, talking about how nobody wantssss him and it doessssn't matter. I’m sure that hassss nothing to do with it, Logic.” He hisses out, spitting Logan's title like it burns his tongue.

He can see Patton's guilty face out of the corner of his eye, knows whatever happened, it wasn’t him. But Roman… yes.

“So Thomas, dear, care to explain what happened?” He asks, sickly sweet, turning his gaze to Thomas, who has a slight frown on his face. As an afterthought, he notes that Thomas isn’t afraid of him, despite his scales and sharp fangs. Interesting.

“I thought it would be cool to see what everyone’s animal forms would be. Logan was an owl, Pat was a persian cat, and Roman was a dragon. But we didn’t see anxiety anywhere so we thought he was small and hiding and maybe too scared to move. Pat was gonna find him, then a mouse shot out from under the couch and Roman…” Thomas trails off, eyes shifting away, but it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Roman. Care to continue?” Roman meets his ice cold gaze imperiously.

“gladly. I captured the fiend in my claws. Hurting him was an accident. I merely meant to catch him while he was small and couldn’t hurt us and contain him. Keep him small, so he’d stop bothering Thomas. It’s not like we need him, anyways.” Roman scoffs.

Rage is filling him. Because Roman truly thinks he is in the right, truly thinks he didn’t do anything wrong, and his voice is proud as he speaks about traumatizing Virgil, who is the youngest, the smallest, the most vulnerable to start with. How dare he?

Before he can think, he has crossed the room, he rears his hand back and slaps Roman hard enough to send him reeling backwards.

“You are a heartless, soulless bastard. I told him not to come, I told him he’d get hurt but he didn’t listen. You know why? It’s certainly not because he wants to be included, he doesn’t yearn for your acceptance, it doesn’t break him a little more each time you all dismiss and send him away unwanted. He definitely doesn’t just want to be liked! He never has a hard enough time just being himself, being afraid, all the fucking time, and you have certainly helped make him feel right at home.” He hisses, ignoring the tears stinging at his eyes as he whips around, facing the rest of them.

“And you’re no better. How do you think it feels, knowing the person who conjured you doesn’t even want you? How terrified would you be, surrounded by people who have never showed you kindness, who have admitted their distaste, small and defenseless, being threatened to be put in a cage? His worst fear is something happening to Thomas and being unable to reach him, to react and help. It’s his job to protect Thomas, and you were threatening to keep him away, to put Thomas’s own safety at risk for your own stupid biases! You were threatening to make his nightmare real, and not a single fucking one of you said otherwise, did you?!” He yells, slowly looking at each of them in turn. No one will meet his eyes now, not even Roman.

“you don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve his name. No wonder he hasn’t told you. You’re a bunch of ignorant bullies. And you’d say I’m the bad guy. You all picked out the most vulnerable and pounced.” He shifts his head, turning to Thomas, a curling, empty smile on his face.

“It was a fucking pleasure, Thomas. I’ll be taking my leave.” The lie is bitter and acrid on his tongue, tasting of ash as he sinks out.

He returns to Virgil's room, immediately hurrying to his bedside, because he is crying, despite Remus's attempts to soothe him.

“Vee, what’s wrong?” he asks. Virgil glares at him through his tears.

“you said you were gonna stay!” he lets out a soft breath, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I know. I just had to check on something. But you know Remus would never let anything hurt you, right?” Virgil nods, leaning back into Remus's arms.

“That’s right, starshine. You’re safe.” Remus whispers, rocking Virgil gently, who responds by pressing his face into Remus's chest.

“You’re staying now, right?” Virgil mumbles. He smiles, slipping under the covers.

“I am. No lies this time.” He murmurs as Virgil lays down, curling into him. He reaches out with all six arms, pulling Remus closer, hugging both of them and sandwiching Virgil in warmth and safety.

“What was it?” Remus asks lowly, once Virgil is out again. He sighs.

“Shapeshifting, animal forms. He was a mouse. Roman was a dragon. Threatened to keep him locked up. It got physical.”

“You mean Roman was a bitch and attacked Virgil unprovoked.” Remus's voice is flat, and he shoots him a soft look, one of his hands slipping into Remus's.

“I’m going to kill him.” He squeezes Remus's hand.

“Later. We can work on murder plans later. Right now Vee needs us.”

“Anxiety, it’s dinner time!” Patton's voice trills. He opens his eyes with a groan, freezing instantly.

This… isn’t his room. It isn’t even the commons. He’s laying in soft bedding. He realizes he’s in a little plastic hut. His heart speeds. He looks down at himself, human, good.

He flinches as the house is lifted up, leaving him exposed. His breath catches in his lungs, Patton is looming over him, he is giant. He skitters back, realizing his back is pressing against metal wire. Cage, he is in a cage, he is tiny, in a cage.

He scrambles, trying to claw his way out, trying to bend the wire enough to wriggle out.

“hey, now. None of that kiddo.” His stomach flips as hands squeaze around his waist and he is lifted into the air. He is barely as tall as Patton's ring finger, he is so high in the air as Patton places him down on his palm.

“patton please, please, just let me go, please!” he begs, feeling tears slipping down his face.

“Aw, I know kiddo. But this is better for everyone. This way you’re still around but don’t bother Thomas.” He stumbles as Patton places him back in the cage, doubling over and choking on sobs as a small food dish is placed inside, the shadows of bars shading his face.

He is still begging, pleading, screaming, for Patton, for anyone, to let him out, let him go, but he knows no one is coming, and the bars are pressing in, and soon there won’t be any more space, any more air.

“hush, stormy, shhh. It’s ok. It’s ok, lovely.” His eyes fly open, and he clings to Dee, feeling all of his arms cradling him tight as he sniffles into his shoulder, sobs shaking his thin frame.

“Just a dream, Vee." He feels Remus's hand on his, feels the terror and residual fear draining out of him as the nightmare is removed from his mind. The pros of dark creativity. Remus can steal other people’s bad thoughts, bad dreams, but then he experiences whatever the thoughts were. He hears Remus's sharp inhale as he sees it, feels his hand tighten it’s grip.

“thanks ree.” He manages, his voice hoarse and sore.

“Virgil, love, we should talk about it. I only got minor details from them.”

“what’s to say? They were going to keep me in a cage, they d-didn't want me.” Dee draws back a tad, looking down at Virgil's face, eyes hidden behind his bangs.

“did anyone help? Surely not all of them went along with this.” He shrugs, taking a deep breath.

“R-roman g-g-rabbed me in his talons and st-started flying. But he yelled… I think L-Logan tried to stop him. He was an o-o-owl. I think he rammed Roman and made him drop me. P-p-patton c-caught me. And… and he put me down, right away, when I asked. I… I don't think they woulda let Roman k-keep me.” He mumbles out, shaking. Dee feels his heart breaking, can feel the murder on Remus's face.

“That's good, Virge. They were trying to defend you.” Virgil shakes his head.

“but they didn’t. Only p-patton even cared I was h-hurt. Thomas… Thomas didn't say a-anything.”

“but he changed you back.” His brow creases as he looks out from Dee's arms at Remus's words. “if he agrees with Roman, he wouldn’t have changed you back.”

“He's right, lovely. Thomas doesn’t hate you. I know that. That is fact.” He sighs.

“Doesn’t feel like it right now.” He mumbles.

“I know. And that’s ok, Virge.” Dee kisses his head softly. He startles at a knock on the door.

“Remus, see who it is?”

“If it’s princey stab him for me.” Virgil mumbles, making Remus chuckle and ruffle his hair.

“Gladly, stormy.”

He throws open the door, leaning in the doorway with a cocky grin, teeth sharp and eyes glinting.

“Well, well, hello there Daddy. Have I been naughty?” he teases, moving to block Patton's view of the room.

“Remus… what… what are you doing here?” Patton asks nervously.

“Apparently playing the butler. Y'know, Patton, in the movies the butler is always guilty of murder.” He tilts his head slowly, relishing the fear that races across Patton's face. “Now, what are you doing here, daddio?” Patton fiddles with his sweater sleeves, a frown settling on his face.

“I just… I know he probably doesn’t want to see us right now, heck, maybe ever, and I don’t fault him for it. Today… today was bad. Really, really bad. I just want to make sure he's ok. And apologize. We… we chewed out Roman. His actions were unacceptable. Just… I would never let that happen. He’s not… he’s a person, and I don’t always agree with him, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to take away his voice or opinion. Can you just… pass that on, for me? Please?”

Remus looks back at the bed, softening as he sees Virgil uncurling from Dee, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, leaning against Dee, who has an arm around his shoulders. Virgil looks up at Dee, a silent question.

“No lies.” Dee murmurs, and Virgil bites his lip. “You wanna let him in?” He asks softly. Virgil hesitates, but nods.

“If he means it... yeah.” Virgil mumbles.

“He does. Remus, stop playing. V- Anxiety says he can come in.” He calls, catching himself before using Virgil’s actual name. Remus sighs, but steps aside.

“Well? Come in then.”

Hesitantly, Patton steps inside the dark room, taking in the soft, dark carpet, the dark to light purple gradient painted on the walls. There are also posters for bands carefully hung in frames, and a few posters for movies that Anxiety must like. He sees fairy lights strung across the ceiling that sparkle like stars without the main lights turned on.

He lets out a soft noise of hurt as he takes in Anxiety, knees pulled to his chest, his shoulders hunched. His eyeshadow is smeared all over his face, his eyes red and puffy. He glances at Deceit, not as surprised to see him here, tilting his head. Deceit nods minutely, and he sits down next to Anxiety, legs dangling over the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him, to give him space.

“hey kiddo. How’s your shoulder?” He asks.

“better. Dee helped. It still... still hurts.” His voice is quiet and unsure and hoarse.

“Yeah. I think it would be pretty strange if it didn’t. I’m glad you’re going to be ok, though. Even if it hurts now, it’ll feel better eventually.”

“will it?” He is surprised as Patton pulls him into a hug, startled, but after a moment he leans into it, tucking his chin against Patton’s shoulder.

“I have never wanted you to die. I have never wanted you to leave. You’re one of my kiddos, kiddo, and that means I stand up for you when something hurts you, no matter who or what it is.”

“i’m scared. I hate... I hate being small... I hate... it’s so big, everything... I could drown, in a puddle, I could be crushed by a book, I could be stepped on, I could be crushed, I could get hurt and no one would know, no one would realize or find me. I could be caged...” He chokes out, fear flooding through him again. “I could be caged and my influence squashed, and then no one would protect Thomas, look out for dangers, keep him... keep him on task, keep him motivated to d-do better. I c-can't... trapped, and b-bars and it-it's too much... too small...” He is shaking again, on the edge of hysteria, but Patton is rocking him, holding him.

“Oh honey... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We didn’t know you were gonna be that little. I’m sorry we didn’t ask permission first, we weren’t thinking. I promise, promise,” he pulled back so Anxiety could see his eyes, tears spilling down his own cheeks, “that I will physically fight anyone who suggests we do that again, who even dares to mention putting you in a cage. I nearly did fight Roman, Logan had to hold me back.” That gets a weak laugh out of Anxiety, imagining Logan holding back a kicking and spitting furious Patton. “I love you, kiddo. I really, really do, and if anyone has a problem with that, has a problem with you, they’ll have to go through me first.” Patton’s voice is fierce, and he doesn’t have to look at Dee to know that he isn’t lying.

“T-thomas-”

“Is worried about you, kiddo. I came to check on you cause he wanted to make sure you were gonna be ok. What you said... really, really scared us, but we didn’t wanna summon you, because we knew you probably didn’t want to be summoned. He’s sorry, too. We all are.”

“Even Roman?” He asks, bitterness in his voice. Patton hesitates, sighing.

“I don’t know. I think... I think he’s sorry he got yelled at, sorry he got in trouble, sorry we didn’t agree with him. But I don’t think he’s sorry for what he actually did to you, said to you. Which makes me angry, because he should be sorry, but he isn’t, and if he isn’t, I can’t change that. What I can do is make sure you are going to be alright. I can learn what else we shouldn’t do without asking your permission. I can be better at speaking up when Roman threatens or takes jabs at you, and eventually, hopefully, his attitude will change as he learns none of us are going to enable him anymore. I’m sorry it went this far.” He blinks, surprised. He didn’t expect Patton to acknowledge Roman’s inability to see his own wrongdoings. He didn’t expect Patton to admit to his own shortcomings. He didn’t expect Patton to be... honest.

“What would you like us to do for now, Anxiety? Clearly, you have two people who love you very much helping your right now, so I feel ok leaving, if you like. I just didn’t want you to be alone, when you were so upset. Thomas... all of us, want to speak with you about what happened, to try and make ammends, but we’ll do that on your terms, so there’s no rush. Just, whenever you’re ready to talk, we’re ready to listen. If you like, I can bring you meals, if you don’t wanna leave your room for a while. I wanna keep you healthy, and I know if I leave you to your own devices it’ll be chips and soda for every meal.” He lets out a little snort at that, because Patton is right, of course, and he’s already calmed down so much because Patton is being so nice, and he knows Dee would have told him if Patton had lied.

“that all sounds good, yeah.” He mumbles, shifting out of Patton’s hug, pulling his knees to his chest once again.

“ok. Is there anything else you need, or would like me to do?” He bites his lip, thinking.

“Just... just let them know I’m ok? If they’re really that worried about me.” Patton squeezes his non injured shoulder once as he stands, smiling gently.

“Will do, kiddo. If you ever need anything, or just want some company, don’t be afraid to call me up.”

“I... might.” Patton smiles again, soft and warm.

“I love you, Anxiety.” Patton turns away, but before he sinks out, Virgil steels his courage.

“Virgil!” He shouts, and the room seems to freeze. Remus is staring at him in wide eyed surprise. Deceit has stopped rubbing his back, and Patton falters mid step, before turning to face him, something akin to awe on his face. “That’s... my name. My name is Virgil.” A huge smile blooms across Patton’s face, his eyes light up with tender joy, and he sniffles, wiping away tears.

“Virgil. I think that’s a lovely name, Virgil. I know I'm usually a blabber mouth, but it when it counts, I can keep a secret.” Patton winks, sending a smile flashing across his own face as warmth blooms in his chest. With a wave, Patton sinks out, and he collapses back against Deceit with a long, low sigh.

“You sure about that, Virg?” Remus asks, from where he’s leaning against the wall, having simply observed everything.

“yeah. Yeah I... think I am.” He feels Dee press another soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Proud of you, lovely.” He smiles, closing his eyes as he feels Remus settle on the other side of him. He is still scared and afraid and knows the nightmares won’t leave him alone for ages, now. But he also knows that at least Patton is on his side. And Patton is almost more of a mama bear than Deceit. If the two of them are looking out for him, he knows nothing will hurt him like this ever again.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #thomas #deceit sanders #unsympathetic roman #mostly he's a dick #pre accepting anxiety #sympathetic dark sides #minor injury #virgil angst #platonic anxceitmus #hurt/comfort #Angst with a happy ending #shape shifting

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