#She kept kicking my ass and the only reason why i was able to Barely Survive was bc i kept using beidou as a meat shield ASDGSDSFHDGS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seravphs · 3 years

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GETOU X FEM READER

Some people have embarrassing exes, ones who are too childish, or overly controlling, or just downright way under their league. You have Getou, a mass murderer and criminal on the run. You are not coping well with that information.

wc — 12.2k

contains — Gojo My Favorite Deus Ex Machina Satoru, mention of kids (sorry), my blatant favoritism of Utahime and Nanami, angst with a happy ending, deviates from canon, death, violence, suicidal tendencies for a bit, grief, loss, mourning, imo most of this is happy though, i’m not joking like 50% of this is just jujutsu high shenanigans idk why the tags are like this

One of the primary purposes of education at sorcery school was to beat mercy out of it’s child soldiers. It sounded brutal, but in reality, it was an understood necessity - brutality was what kept you alive in your line of work.

That meant it was surprising when your classmate took his foot off your windpipe in the middle of sparring, having only rested it there briefly without crushing it hard enough to leave bruises. You blink up at him from your position in the dirt, winded but already preparing for another fight. That was the way sparring worked - fight until you either beat him or collapsed. At least this time, you hadn’t been paired against Gojo or Yuki. Yuki wasn’t even a student anymore, she just liked coming back to train the new generation. In your opinion, she enjoyed the fights a little too much, but no one had asked.

Getou kneels beside you and against your training, you close your eyes, only to snap them back open when you remember. It’s always better to be able to see a hit coming, even if you can’t avoid it. His hand comes towards your face. With sick humor, you think mockingly of how the bruise will at least match the black eye already blooming over your left eye, when his hand skirts past your cheek entirely and places itself on your shoulder, steadying you.

“You need a break.”

The first thing you learn about Getou Suguru is that he is not a typical sorcerer. Anyone else, even your mother, would have pressed you to keep going. Growth only comes from being pushed to your limits, but for some reason, Getou spares you the exhaustion and puking your guts out over the toilet from overexertion.

Ignoring your protests about your ability to still fight (complete lies, which he’s aware of, since you’re barely able to stand), he pulls your arm over your shoulder and half carries, half walks you to the dorm. He knows which room is yours.

“Creep,” you accuse, which isn’t really fair because he’s trying to help you out, but admittedly, it is a little weird.

“Don’t go thinking you’re special,” he snorts. “I remember everyone’s room numbers.”

“We’re having a rematch later,” you demand. You don’t understand why he would show you mercy, but you’re determined to make it count. He’s going to regret letting you off easy when you kick his ass. That’s just how sorcery works - empathy isn’t rewarded.

He looks amused when he tells you that he doesn’t fight the weak. His kindness stings more than an outright insult.

You’re surprised Getou’s succeeding so well in class when he so flagrantly ignores the most important rules of sorcery. Kindness is forgivable. Generosity isn’t, and yet Getou shows no end of it. He’s always willing to give up a snack he loves because someone else was looking at it, to brace Utahime when she trips over her skirts in a fight, to sit with Gojo when no one else can bear how annoying he is. You suppose it’s a virtue of the strong - they can afford to be empathetic without worrying what it might cost them.

In the few weeks since you first joined Jujutsu Academy, you've learned a few more truths about sorcerers, besides needing to be vicious. All sorcerers have terrible sleeping habits. They might as well be nocturnal.

This gives you free reign of the campus, with no one to bother you, if you can get up early enough in the mornings, but Getou surprises you by also being in the kitchen when you walk in. He’s always doing that, the unexpected, ever since your very first week here.

“Hey,” he greets you like he didn’t attempt to choke the life from you again yesterday. To be fair, he had held back, which is more than you can say for your other classmates. You wince, thinking of Yuki’s arms as strong as iron, the way one hit from her felt like it had cracked your ribs open. You’re still a little miserable at your easy defeat, and it probably shows on your face.

He slides a piece of warm, buttered waffle dipped in syrup in your mouth before you can greet him back. Your eyebrows raise before you can control your expression. He looks amused when you say, “You can cook?”

“Even better,” he says, bending down to check the oven. “I can bake. While we wait, can you come with me for a second? I want to show you something.”

He takes your hand without argument - his skin is so warm, probably from the heat of the stove - and guides you out the back of the dorms.

You walk a bit, and then he turns around, forcing you to stop or bump into him. “Do you trust me?”

Your first instinct is to say, “Not at all.” You don’t trust anyone that’s not from your clan, and you’ve only known Getou for a few weeks, but the sudden memory of him anxiously peering over you while checking your face for injuries stops you in your tracks. If he wanted to hurt you, he could’ve done so already, and without punishment.

Wordlessly, you nod, though you’re still cautious. He covers your eyes with his hands and directs you, “A little left, a little right, good, now straight forward.”

When his hands leave your eyes, you’re standing in a clearing, surrounded by a grove of trees. Their branches are woven together in a dome overhead, various flowers and vines clinging to their lengths, and wildflowers beneath your feet. It’s beautiful, and not something you would’ve expected from Jujutsu Academy.

Getou looks pleased with himself. “It’s pretty, right? Yaga-sensei told me about this place. He got engaged here.”

Pretty isn’t enough to describe it. It feels like you walked into the set of a movie. Getou laughs at your awestruck expression.

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, almost afraid to break the peaceful atmosphere.

“It’s not far from the campus itself, but I think the woods are a good insulator. It’s a nice place to think, right?” He reaches his hands out to brush the trunks. With his long black hair, his white pajamas, he looks almost like he belongs there. A forest sprite, something not quite human, destined always for something beyond you.

“Thank you for showing me this.”

He shrugs off your gratitude, and you fall into awkward silence. Itching to break it, you cast around for anything, any topic of conversation to be interesting. He did bring you here after all. It’s an olive branch. You want to offer him something too, but instead you insult his best friend, because that’s the kind of person you are. He laughs it off, because that’s the kind of person he is.

“I kind of wish Gojo wouldn’t find out about this. He’d hog it every day and then we’d never get this silence again.”

He looks at you in consideration. “Okay, so don’t tell him.”

“But he’s your best friend.”

“My best friend, for what, two weeks? If you want me to keep this a secret, I will.”

A moment of tense silence stretches between you two. He’s waiting for a reply, you realize. “I want you to.”

He smiles.

When you return, Utahime is up, and her expression is thunderous. “Which one of you left this-“ she holds up a charred, unrecognizable black lump of coal, “in the oven?”

You and Getou realize at the same time that you’d neglected to set a timer.

Utahime taps her foot impatiently. “I’m waiting. You could’ve burned the house down!”

Out of the corner of your eye, Getou, ever responsible and kind, steps forward to take responsibility. Maybe you’re paying him back for the breakfast or the shared secret, maybe you’re just sick of him being so good all the time, but you take the burned remains from Utahime’s hands. “I did it. Sorry. I wanted Getou to accompany me on a walk and I just forgot.”

She sighs but melts somewhat. “As long as you don’t do it again.” She perks up again at the mention of a walk. Even though you’ve both been on campus for at least a few weeks, you’ve been too busy training to really explore. “Did you at least see anything interesting?”

You feel Getou’s eyes on your back, curious, but you refuse to turn around and meet his gaze.

“No, not at all.”

Shoko comes later in the year, having been exempt from the earlier classes as a non-combatant, but she’s immediately taken under Utahime’s wing, just like you are. You’re grateful that your upperclassman takes such good care of you, and a little surprised - your mother had always told you that kindness was weakness - but she’s adamant in her doting.

“Yuki Tsukumo did it for me, and now I’ll do it for you,” she says. Yuki graduated already, but occasionally she comes back to wreak havoc, cause more of Yaga’s gray hairs, and train Gojo as the one of the few people in the world that can put up a fight for him, though perhaps not for long, at the rate he’s improving.

It’s not just in classes though. You’ve never had friends like Shoko and Utahime, not back home, where your mother had kept you separated from the Three Great Families, and by extension, the rest of Jujutsu Society. Utahime insists on sleepovers and parties and all the things friends do, and you’re glad to indulge her. You can admit, even if it’s only to yourself, that the one that’s really being spoiled is you.

She barely complains when you throw yourself over her on the mattress, lying across her stomach. Shoko climbs up after you, though she’s much more dignified, choosing to sit at the foot of your bed instead. She pulls out a cigarette, but reconsiders after Utahime’s furious face. “You haven’t perfected your technique yet. Put that away.”

It’s easy to fall into inane conversation with your girls - the bodies in Shoko’s morgue, your attempts to master swordplay, Utahime’s constant fighting with Gojo.

“Speaking of,” Shoko says, the gleam in her eyes signifying she’s up to her usual mischief. “Are you sure there isn’t something else there, Utahime?”

Turning bright red doesn’t help her case, but she tries to play it off anyways. “What are you talking about?”

“Just that you’re awfully cozy lately,” she hums. “Yeah, you fight all the time, but no one can get under your skin like he can, huh? And you’re really touchy with each other.”

“I’m disciplining him. Are you really going to call it touchy if I’m slapping his hand? It’s not like that!”

Shoko grins. “Yeah, but it’s different if he likes it. What, you can’t tell? He’s always making excuses for you to touch him.”

Come to think of it, Shoko’s right. You chime in, “Remember this morning? He’s always grumpy when he’s just woken up, but Shoko, what did we walk in on?”

Utahime throws her hands up. “Stop, stop!” She pushes you off her, but you keep going.

In unison with Shoko, you strike. “Who was that sprawled over your lap like a large cat, Utahime? You know, the one you were petting, your hand in his hair?”

Utahime blows her bangs out of her face in a frustrated huff. “Fine, you want to play that game? What about you and Getou? And Shoko, don’t think I haven’t noticed the massive crush you have on Yuki.”

“What crush,” Shoko says, as collected as always, though the effect is lessened by the light blush covering her cheeks. “I just think she’s interesting. A good fighter.”

“Getou and I,” you start, then hesitate. What are you and Getou? You’re certainly closer than you are with anyone barring Shoko and Utahime, and you do hang out a lot alone, but still, you pause. It’s a deadly mistake that Utahime intends to make use out of.

“You’re whipped,” she marvels.

“What? No, I’m not! We’re just friends.”

“Come on,” Shoko says. “You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed the tension between the two of you. When you had him pinned down on the mat this morning, didn’t you see the way he was looking at you?”

You remember all too well, which is the problem. He had been the one that taught you the move you used on him. Ever since he realized you were frustrated with being unable to keep up with the more physical aspects of fighting, he had taken it upon himself to personally train you, leading to spending hours stretching into the night wrestling and sparring with him. The feeling of his body under yours, the shocked look on his face when you managed to throw him off his feet for the first time - your veins still sang with pleasure. You flex your hand, his phantom touch lingering, the way he had guided your movements.

Shoko gags. “Ugh, look at her face, Utahime. This isn’t fun if you’re going to get all lovesick about it.”

“I’m not in love!” Your protests fall on deaf ears.

Taking on missions is usually reserved for the upperclassmen, but with fewer and fewer sorcerers being born, they've accelerated the curriculum. You're only a second year when you get your first solo mission, in a few years, perhaps they'll be giving them to first years.

You shudder at the thought. You're very fond of your new underclassmen, Nanami and Yuu. Imagining them fighting curses alone is horrifying, especially sweet Yuu, whose empathetic nature always leaves him crying right alongside the mourning mothers of victims.

The special grades, on the other hand, were taking solo missions by the end of their first year. Utahime had been green with envy. You had taken one look at Gojo (you had thought he was invincible before this), freshly back from a mission and bleeding profusely, and decided that you were more than happy to wait your turn.

You had never seen Gojo's blood before that. Thinking about your classmates in various states of distress isn't the way you'd prefer to go to bed, but it's been several hours already, and your eyes have yet to shut. You toss and turn in your bed for thirty more minutes before you get up and head to the kitchen, resigned to the fact that you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

It’s normally easy to find everything you need for your sleeping tea because Utahime meticulously organizes the kitchen when she wants to destress, but someone’s ransacked it. There’s a trail of blood leading from the front door to in front of the white cabinets, where it pools, like the unknown person had stood there for a while. The cabinet itself is thrown open and the first aid kit is missing. Following the trail, the light of the bathroom shines under the crack of the door.

You did say the box with the bandaids and alcohol should be kept in the bathroom, but no one wanted to listen to you because Gojo always cut himself when he cooked and he couldn’t be bothered to make the five foot journey.

Mentally, you run through a list of who was out on missions tonight - almost everyone but you and the first years. If it was Utahime in the bathroom, you’d keep her company while she cleaned herself up. If it was Gojo, you would either laugh at him, or, if it was really bad, distract him from the pain.

The door swings open, leaving you blinking in the harsh light. It’s Getou, white towel pressed to a gash on his forearm, hair slicked back from his forehead with sweat.

“Need a hand with that?” You nod at his arm. Judging by the defiled kitchen and the way the towel is quickly turning brown-red, he’s lost a lot of blood. Shoko’s off scamming admissions officers to let her into medical school, and won’t be back before dawn. That means it’s up to you, the second best nurse besides Utahime, who’s good at everything, to tend to him. You aren’t really giving him a choice, just being polite.

He turns you down anyways, like the headstrong idiot he is. He hates being compared to Gojo, but in some ways, he really is. They’re both too proud to accept help, and often, they don’t need it. Not today, though.

“I wasn’t really offering. Give me your arm.” He almost snatches it back out of your grip as soon as you grab it, but it must really hurt, because when you tighten your grip, his face goes white and he bites back a groan.

“Sorry.” You’re not really. Serves him right.

Up close, the wound doesn’t look as bad as all the bleeding suggests. Whoever cut him must have been terrible, missing all the important veins.

“Want stitches?”

He gives you a horrified look and resumes trying to yank his arm out of your grasp, making you regret your little joke.

“I was just kidding, it’s not that deep. You’re still going to need to disinfect and bandage it though.”

“It’s alright. I can do it myself. You should go back to bed - don’t you have a mission tomorrow?”

“I can’t sleep anyways. ”

Taking a clean towel from the stack set aside specifically for this purpose, you set to work washing the wound as gently as you can, doing your best to ignore the fact that he’s pale and sweaty and barely biting back whimpers.

“Hey.” You touch the back of his hand. “Are you still with me?”

“It’s not that deep,” he says, parroting your words back to you.

“That doesn’t mean you have to just suffer through it.” You’re almost amused with the childishness of it. “If you had just asked me for help, you know I’d be more than glad to. Here, take this.”

Dutifully, he dry swallows the pills you give him and makes a face. You wonder if it tastes like curses.

“You can complain, you know. I’d be mad if Gojo did it, but it’s okay if you want to. I know it hurts.”

“It’s fine,” he says, gritting his teeth. “Just finish, please.”

“Actually, it’s not a choice anymore. Doctor’s orders. Stop trying to chew through your lip, you idiot. If it hurts, just say so.”

“That won’t help it heal.”

“But it feels better.”

You get through it together, Getou squeezing his eyes shut against the burning pain of you pouring disinfectant into his cut. True to your words, he doesn’t try to muffle himself anymore. By the time you’re done bandaging him up (it’s not deep but it’s long, white cloth now covering his entire forearm), he looks like he’s about to pass out.

He’s gross and dirty from the mission, but this is probably the best you’re getting out of him for tonight. It’s not like you haven’t slept in worse conditions before. Coming home tired enough to sleep in barely cleaned off monster guts and sweat is unfortunately just part of being a sorcerer.

“Come on,” you say, letting him lean on you as you guide him to his room. “Get some sleep. When you wake up, Shoko will be here and everything will be better.”

You ease him into his bed with a sigh of relief. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He mumbles something into his pillow, but since he’s speaking with cloth in his mouth, you don’t understand.

“What was that?”

“Thank you.”

He peers at you over the covers, eyes exhausted and dark circles prominent, but you can tell from the way the corners of his eyes crease that he’s smiling. His hand reaches for yours, clutches it, brings it to his lips.

“Thank you,” he says again, his breath ghosting over your skin. It tingles where he’s touched you.

You head back to your own room feeling faintly pleased, but also uncomfortable for a reason you can’t quite place until later that night. The last thought you have before you fall asleep is of Getou. Doesn’t he know there are other options to suffering?

Apparently not, because he’s fresh-faced and ready to accompany you on your mission tomorrow, sitting at the breakfast table chewing a slice of toast while Yaga debriefs him on the details.

“You’re not coming. Yaga, tell him he’s not coming.”

Your teacher looks apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Are you kidding me? He just got back!”

Shoko twirls her hair around her finger thoughtfully. You have no idea why she’s looking at you like that, but her expression is a little like a cat who's found a particularly interesting mouse to play with. “It’ll be fine, calm down. It’s not like he’s actually fighting. You’ll be doing all the real work, he just has to swallow the curse at the end.”

In the end, it’s 3 against 1, and Getou ends up with you on the train to Osaka. It’s supposed to be a simple exorcism, but the town the site is located in has cats running all along the streets, and you can’t help but stop and feed them. Getou brings out the dried fish he packed as a snack, so they’re all over him. Watching them bat at his shoelaces makes you laugh so hard you almost fall over in your unbalanced crouch, and he slides an arm over your shoulders to steady you.

Shoko watches you and Getou play with the cats with a smug look on her face, like she knows something you don’t.

“You have a thing for taking in strays, don’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You raise an eyebrow at her, but she just brushes off her cryptic comment.

“Nothing. You’ll figure it out eventually. Probably.”

You fall asleep on the train ride back and wake up with your head pillowed on Getou’s shoulder. It’s such a small, simple thing. You had always thought if you ever fell in love, it would be something monumental, like the fairytales your mother used to read to you when you were little. You would see them and know that they were right for you, know that this is who you were meant to be with. Instead, your heart stutters in your chest because you’re realizing what Shoko meant, a series of small realizations piling on top of each other until it’s impossible to ignore.

You’re in love with Getou.

A quick glance at his face tells you he’s still asleep and so is Shoko, but it’s now or never. You can’t wait, or you’ll lose your nerve.

“Getou.” He grumbles and slouches further into his seat. “Getou. Hey! Wake up!”

His eyes snap open. “Who am I fighting? What is it?” His voice is still drowsy.

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?” He shakes his head slowly, like a large dog waking up. “Hang on, what was that? I think I misheard you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

His jaw drops open. “Are you serious? Is this a prank? You’re not funny.”

“I’m in love with you.” It’s like it’s the only thing you can say, all the nerves in your brain completely burned out in the all encompassing fear that he might say no, that he might laugh at you - but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t regret it. You had to tell him.

He hangs his head and peers up at you through his eyelashes. “You’re hopeless.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “So you don’t-“

And then he’s kissing you, and it’s the most right feeling in the world, like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be. You sigh into his mouth; the kiss more like a fight, like the way it started between you two, him stealing your air, you biting his lips. He kisses you, and kisses you, and doesn’t stop until the moon is fully bright in the sky and your lips are bruised, eyes bright.

Across from you, Shoko says, “Gross.”

You start dating the next morning.

As soon as you walk into class, Gojo can’t help himself. Shoko’s a horrible gossip. He jeers, “Look at the two lovebirds! Can you manage to keep your hands to yourself during class, at least?”

“Says the man who can’t even get a girlfriend,” your boyfriend comments, casually getting his writing utensils out of his bag.

Gojo blinks, and then turns his attention to you. “Can you get your dog? I don’t like when it bites back.”

Dating Getou doesn’t change much. You’re the same as you’ve always been, teasing, fighting, laughing together, but the knowledge that you love him, and he loves you, is always there. Love is always present, in the way your heart flutters when you wake him up for breakfast and his voice is rough, in the lump in your throat when he presses his lips to your neck as you cuddle.

You’re in bed together, since he’s taken to sleeping in your room. Strange conversations always happen at night, your idle mind wandering, but he humors you and your weird, stray thoughts.

“Would you want kids?” You murmur against the crown of his head, the stray hairs tickling your face. He stills in your arms (you’re the big spoon today), then rolls over so you’re face to face, breath to breath. His eyes are half closed, watching you with languid pleasure. It makes you restless, wanting to kiss each eyelid, scatter your love across his cheekbones and nose bridge and all of him, until he’s squirming away from you in laughter.

“Do you?”

You consider it. Kids, adulthood, even marriage are all things that seem so far away, like death. Eventually you’ll grow up and perhaps you’ll decide to start your own family, just like eventually you’ll die, but in the warm light of your room, shadows of butterflies scattered over the walls from the lampshade Getou cut shapes out of and presented to you as a gift, everything feels so hazy and far away. It’s just the two of you in this moment, you can’t even begin to imagine what tomorrow might look like, much less years later.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t decided.”

He hums in agreement. “I want whatever you want.”

“You better,” you laugh, and slap his arm playfully. “But have you ever thought about it?”

His fingers ghost over your hips, tap a steady rhythm on your ribs as he thinks. “Maybe two girls. I think I’d like daughters.”

“You would,” you agree. “You’d spoil them rotten.”

It all feels so far away. The conversation slides from your mind as easily as the memory of the day’s breakfast, only to stab you in the back in the not so distant future.

Nothing changes between you and Getou, but that doesn’t mean the world around you doesn’t shift to accommodate this new thing blooming between the two of you.

You meet Getou in the hall. “Any idea why Yaga wants us?”

He shakes his head. “Not a clue.”

You’re ambushed as soon as you step into his office.

“I’ve heard you’re dating.” Yaga turns his steel gaze on you. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to laugh, but this feels like a joke.

“Sir, with all due respect-“

“In my experience, people usually say that before something disrespectful,“ he says.

“I feel like you have better things to do than meddle in your student’s love lives. Do you need us to set you up?”

He stiffens at the last bit. Getou raises his eyebrows, but before he can ask, Yaga recovers. “As impertinent as ever,” he sighs. “I’m just looking out for you. Love for a jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the same as other people’s, you know. You will live and die alone.”

You’ve heard this bit before, but he continues. “I’ve seen husbands and wives torn apart. The anguish of being the one left behind -“ the way he looks at you sends chills down your spine. “I hope you never experience it. I would rather you not.”

“Speaking of kids,” Getou cuts in. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging us? God knows we need more sorcerers.”

Yaga’s face goes white. “Are you-?” He can’t finish his sentence. “Tell me you’re being safe.”

You shoot Getou a horrified look. Is this his idea of helping? “We’re not!”

“You’re not?” Yaga looks furious.

“We’re not doing anything,” you amend. “Yaga,” your tone softens. “Thank you. I appreciate it. But I’ve already chosen him.”

He sniffs. “You're both so young. What do you know of love? What happens when Getou dies and you’re left behind? What then?”

Getou cuts in again, face deadly serious in a way that it hadn’t been before. “I can love her from beyond the grave.”

Yaga says nothing. The way he’s looking at you makes you so uncomfortable, like he’s already seeing the future, one where you have to live without each other, separated by the greatest divide in the world. You’re reminded that your teacher, for his youthful appearance, is old. He’s taught and watched as hundreds of sorcerers, his students, came and left and died. His face is unhappy, but he touches both of your brows, brushes back your hair, and says, “Then you have my blessing. I want happiness for you both.”

The conversation with your teacher stirs something in you, apprehension lurking under your skin, but all that disappears when you return to the dorms.

It’s one of the rare days when none of you have missions - you suspect Yaga saw the schedule and took on Utahime’s mission for himself so you’d all be together - and everyone is in the common room: Gojo, sprawled across the top of the couch like a particularly annoying cat; Nanami, sitting on the bean bag Gojo had begged Yaga to get for you all; Yuu, reclining against the bean bag with his back braced against Nanami’s thighs; Utahime, flicking idly through channels on the TV, seated on the sofa and ignoring the imminent threat of being crushed by Gojo; and Shoko, head in Utahime’s lap and legs dangling off the couch. Utahime smiles up at you when you walk in. Getou selects a paperback from the shelf and collapses in on himself like a deflated soufflé in the armchair, absorbed in an instant. You join them, sitting at the foot of Getou’s chair, head pillowed against his knee.

For a while, everything is peaceful, then, as always, Gojo stirs things up. He’s been talking incessantly about his failed attempts to master purple for what feels like hours. You’ve long since tuned him out, but every once in a while you check back in to see how much more frequently Utahime’s eye twitches. You're running an experiment to analyze the number of twitches it’ll take before she loses it, but surprisingly, it’s Shoko that snaps first.

You watch in amusement as she gets up. “I’m not listening to this drivel anymore.”

“Shut up, yes you are,” Gojo hauls her back. Shoko thwacks him on the head, but he tosses a ten dollar bill and a fistful of candy pulled from his pocket in her lap.

You make a face. “I wouldn’t eat that if I were you. It probably has lint on it.”

“Gojo germs,” Getou says agreeably.

“Gojo,” Yuu says, horrified, “you don’t have to pay her to listen to you. I’m listening, don’t worry.”

It’s him that should be worried, you think. Somehow he’s gotten the idea into his head that Gojo’s being bullied by the four of you (being Utahime, Getou, Shoko, and you) and is determined to give him support and attention so he can flourish and stand up for himself. Gojo, of course, is eating it up, and takes every chance to burst into theatrics in front of the boy when he can remember he’s supposed to be a victim.

Above you, Getou snorts. “What’s so funny?” You tilt your head back to see his smile.

“Nothing. Just wishing we could be like this forever.”

No one’s listening to you in the middle of the full on war of words being waged between Gojo and Utahime, but you rest your head back against Getou’s leg again. “Yeah. Me too.”

Nanami rolls his eyes at Shoko. While you weren’t paying attention, somehow they started fighting. “Don’t get me started on you.”

“Oh yeah? Guess all that respect for your upperclassmen is just an act. Hey, Gojo! Ask him what his cat’s name is.”

“You have a cat?” Gojo blinks.

“His parents got one a week ago!”

Nanami flushes. “Haibara!”

“What’s the cat’s name?” Getou plays along.

“None of your business.”

“Either you tell them or I will,” Shoko teases, her voice sing-song.

You take pity on poor Nanami, if he gets any redder he’ll burst into flames. Just as you open your mouth to settle the tension, Shoko shakes her head in mock pity.

“Ding! Times up. He named his cat-“ she pauses for dramatic effect. Nanami scrambles over his seat to try to get to her and slam his hand over her mouth, but she’s faster. “Gojo!”

Gojo blinks, and then he’s the one blushing. None of you expected the mortified expression on his face. “You…named your cat after me?”

“You’re flattered?” Getou says. “It’s a cat.”

“Shut up, Getou! You wish Nanami liked you enough to name his cat after you.”

“I didn’t name my cat after you!”

“I don’t need Nanami, I have a girlfriend.”

“Ooh, does little Nanami have a crush?”

“Shut up, Shoko!”

The room dissolves into chaos as it usually does when you’re all together for too long, but your wish remains the same.

Things are going so well that you really should’ve expected it. The blame is on you for not having the foresight to see it coming.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission, if more important than any they’ve taken in the past. They’re the strongest. There is no one in the world that can beat them, certainly not if they’re together. But the man with the heavenly restriction obeys no rules.

You’re the one that finds them. Utahime took you off campus for a day off. Shoko couldn’t come because she had to convince her biochemistry professor she didn’t cheat on her final (she did, but not because she needed to, just because she didn’t want to put in the effort). It was supposed to be a fun day for both of you, returning home drunk off the taste of sugar sweet cake and tea - until you saw the pool of blood near the front gates. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. Utahime rushes towards the red pool immediately, but you hold her back, scanning the area for lingering signs of the intruder.

Everything in your brain is screaming at you that this is wrong. Jujutsu high is protected by barriers - there is no one who could get in without Yaga’s permission, no one who could hurt you. Your mother had promised when she sent you here.

A chilling thought occurs - had Yaga let them in? It dissipates as soon as you think of it. Your teacher would never hurt you, would put his life on the line to defend you. He had before.

It’s not a good idea to split up, but it’s worse to stay together. You have to take your chances. Utahime goes to alert the teachers and you go to find the Getou and Gojo. At this point, you still had faith that they were alright, if not perfectly intact. They were the strongest. You had no doubt in this fact. The pool of blood could have just come from an injury, but almost nothing was fatal as long as you had Shoko.

Then, you step on a dead body. For a second, you think it’s Getou, the long black hair covering the face of the corpse, and your blood chills in your veins. You don’t think you’ll ever breathe again, but then you move the bangs, and it’s not him. It’s a girl. The relief that comes with the realization is a guilty one, but you’re grateful nonetheless. As long as he’s not dead, everything will be okay.

Even when you have his body in your lap, you believe it’ll all be okay, because it’s them. They’re the strongest. Even when you’re applying pressure to his wounds, trying to buy time for Shoko to get here, you have to believe in him. You have no other choice.

The first thing he says when he wakes up is, “I’ll kill that damned monkey,” even as you’re crying over him. He doesn’t talk again until he sets out to find Gojo, leaving you behind even though you insist on going.

You’ve fought and killed and been hurt before, all of you have. Being a sorcerer was synonymous with a life of violence. But none of you had come as close to death (or in Gojo’s case, actually died), and so your friends were divided as you had never been before. On one side, Gojo and Getou stood, having gone through a trial by fire and came out forged into something different. On the other side were the rest of you, unable to understand them, though not for lack of trying.

Utahime said it best, alone with you and Shoko in your room, the place that you had taken to become the designated spot to discuss the change in your boys. They were no longer quite human, but you loved them all the same. You couldn’t help it. Love didn’t die, even when there might be a reason for it to.

Normalcy doesn’t come for a long time. In fact, it doesn’t come ever - what you have is a very good imitation of it, but you’ll take what you can get. During the day, Gojo has somewhat returned to normal, aside from randomly falling asleep for the first week and zoning out for hours at a time. Getou’s also different. He’s quicker to enrage, slower to apologize. His eyes are dark, and sleeplessness has left a semi-permanent bruise under them. He has nightmares that he can’t escape.

You almost shriek when you hear the knock at your window, the dark outline of a figure looming outside in the darkness. Then he moves closer, into the light, and it’s no one scary after all, just Getou. You’re moving to let him in before he knocks on the window. He looks more dead than alive, and you rush to usher him into your bed, no need for words. He shows up because he knows you won’t turn him away, even if you’re fast asleep, even if you’re still working on mission reports.

He doesn’t need to ask, but does so anyway. “Can I sleep here tonight?

Under the blankets, you wrap your arms around him, squeezing like you can hold him together through physical contact and sheer force of will. His head rests against your breast bone and that’s how you can tell, even when his breathing evens out, that he’s not asleep. He doesn’t for the entire night.

This goes on for several weeks until you can’t take it anymore. “I don’t know what’s wrong and I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. You told me you were fine. Is it Riko? We can talk about it.”

He looks at you with his woeful, tired eyes (he never seems happy these days). “You wouldn’t understand.”

“God, you can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that? Do you think you’re some kind of enlightened martyr? Just spit it out!”

He just keeps watching you with his dark eyes, and you have the horrifying feeling that he’s not seeing you, not really. Like he’s looking through you.

It’s like your words are only cementing whatever dark thought has taken root in his brain.

“The monkeys,” he mutters in his sleep. “I have to get rid of them all.” You only hold him tighter, like you can keep him together through sheer force of will. But eventually, he stops coming to you at all. You can feel him slipping through your fingers, and you don’t know how to stop it. You’d ask him if he still loves you, if he still wants to be with you, but you’re scared of the answer, so you don’t.

He shrugs you off all the time now, so you didn’t expect him to call you after his mission. In the darkness, you grope around blindly for your phone. It nearly falls off the side table and hits your face before you catch it. It’s a little annoying to be woken up, but all of your anger melts away when you see the caller ID, and beneath, a picture of Getou, face frozen in surprise, his smile completely candid. It was from a trip you’d taken back in your first year.

“Oh, you’re up?” Getou’s voice crackles through the other line. The connection must be poor - he did say he was going to a village in the mountains for his next mission.

You laugh softly, still half asleep. “How are you surprised that I picked up when you called?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sounding mildly shocked himself. “I wasn’t planning to call you, it just sort of happened. Guess I’m too used to your voice at night. Sorry. It must be late.”

It’s too much to hope that he’s returning to himself, but you do so, anyways. Maybe the fresh air and countryside did him so good. Maybe all he needed was to get away for a little bit, and then he’d return. You’d never expect him to be immediately normal after what had happened, but you want to see progress, for him to recover, even if it is slow.

When you can’t hold yourself back from yawning, he laughs softly on the other end.

“You say you’re sorry, but you’re not going to let me sleep, are you?” You accuse him.

“No,” he agrees. You can almost see his smile on the other end. “It’s my last night before I head back.”

“You couldn’t wait a day?”

“You don’t want to hear from me? That’s fine, I’ll hang up.”

It’s an empty threat, but you protest anyways, spluttering out apologies that only make him laugh harder.

You’re still sleepy, but it’s nice, hearing his voice. Even when he’s miles away, the simple thought of him puts you at peace. You roll over to a more comfortable position, face pressed against your pillow, so you can hear him talk about mundane things, the low timbre of his voice familiar and comforting.

“How was your day? Miss me too much?” He’s teasing, but you’re completely honest when you answer. It’s been so long since he’s been like this.

“Way too much. You should come back as fast as possible.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Getou?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”

He’s been apologizing a lot. Maybe it’s true what they say, that distance really does make the heart fonder. Maybe he’ll come home, and everything will be okay.

This is your first relationship. You don’t know how these things work, but you’re scared all the time that you’re messing up, that you’re a terrible girlfriend, that you’re making Getou worse.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion of unwelcome memories and try to remember the breathing exercises Shoko taught you. In through your nose, out through your mouth, don’t think about finding a pool of Gojo’s blood, a fourteen year old girl’s corpse, Getou’s mutilated body. Don’t. In through your nose, out through your mouth, breathe, breathe, breathe. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that will take away the images.

His voice breaks through the panic. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You’re both liars when you need to be. Maybe that’s why your relationship works so well.

“How was the mission?” You wish you could take it back as soon as it falls from your lips. It’s routine for any other sorcerer. For Getou, it’s a touchy question.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps. He apologizes just as quickly. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

It’s fine, you want to say, but nothing comes out. Instead, you say, “Getou.”

“Hm?”

“Bring me back a souvenir.”

He’s quiet for a moment. It’s a strange night, because it feels so much like he’s returning to his old self, and yet not, at the same time.

“Getou?”

“Babe, I’m in a village. You want me to bring you some grass or something?” You roll your eyes, then tell him you’re rolling your eyes when you realize he can’t see you. Somehow, you don’t think that’s what he was about to say, but you don’t push it.

“Come back soon, okay? Gojo and I are going to kill each other without you, and then you’ll have no one else to love in this miserable existence.”

“Yeah, okay. I wouldn’t let him kill my girl.”

“Hey! Maybe I’m the one killing him. Don’t underestimate me.”

To anyone else, this would sound insane, but you’re sorcerers. Death, murder, and betrayal are the norms of your life. You breathe out a sigh of relief, because everything’s okay. You shouldn’t have worried. Getou is going to be fine.

You yawn again, and that’s when he relents. His voice is soft when he tells you to go to sleep.

“Good night, babe.”

“Love you. Come home safe.”

Before you hang up, he speaks so quickly he slurs his words and has to repeat himself, more slowly. “Wait, can you not hang up yet?”

“Suguru, I have to sleep.”

“I’ll hang up when I’m done, just stay on the line a little longer.”

“You want to hear me fall asleep? Alright, weirdo. Not like you can’t come home and do it when your mission is over.”

“Just humor me.”

And so you do, drifting off with his voice in your ear, the words indistinguishable but the sound comforting. Then you wake up to Gojo throwing your sheets off and hauling you out of bed, kicking and thrashing.

“What are you doing? Is this another prank?” You’re too tired from staying up all night with Getou to deal with more of his antics.

Then you notice his appearance. Gojo doesn’t cry - perhaps it’s a side effect of his six eyes, you’re not sure if he can cry - but you’ve seen signs of panic in animals in Shoko’s textbooks. He has all the same features, the preternaturally wide eyes, the heavy breathing, the high flush in his cheekbones.

“Gojo?” You ask carefully. If he’s actually snapped from stress, you don’t want to be in the same room with him.

“Did you know? Did he say something?”

“What are you talking about?”

His face falls. He looks almost concerned for you, if Gojo had ever cared about your feelings in the past. He opens his mouth, and your world falls apart. Life after Getou murders an entire village, kidnaps two girls, and is on the run goes on as normal, if you can call it life.

This is not what you thought he meant when he said he wanted two daughters. It almost feels too normal, for things to continue when he’s gone, but the world doesn’t stop. The missions don’t stop, even when you’re sad and confused and hurt, and nothing makes sense. You throw yourself into your work, because those are straightforward. It's like a mathematical equation: fighting until you’re dead or the enemy is infinitely less confusing than dealing with the aftermath of his departure.

“I think that’s enough,” Ijichi says timidly, when you demand another mission. You glare at him, stalking towards him so you can rip the file out of his hand, but he pulls it back away from you. He looks almost surprised at the sudden nerve he has, but he stands his ground, albeit cowering.

“You need a break.”

It’s what Getou first said to you, and that’s exactly why you can’t do this right now. You need to be fighting, need to be in situations where you can’t think about anything besides how not to die. Ijichi shakes his head when you reach for the document again, and that’s when you relent.

“One more,” you plead.

This is probably karma for being so terrible to him. You’ll have to buy him a present once this mission is over.

Someone’s calling your name, but you refuse to turn around, because you know who it is. You grit your teeth and resist the urge to curse Ijichi because this probably isn’t his fault. You’ve overworked him, since he accompanies you on all your missions and you’ve been working nonstop since Getou left.

Still, a part of you is affronted. He never warned you there was a curse capable of creating hallucinations here, and you’ve hated any kind of curse that has the ability to mess with your mind ever since the incident. Still, there’s nothing to be done now, so you soldier on, ignoring the voice until the arm belonging to the owner of the voice forces you to look at them, and you promptly sock them in the face.

A curse with the nerve to show itself to you in the form of -

Your heart in your throat, tears in your eyes, you get ready to punch it again. There’s no need for knives when a good, old fashioned beat down will best relieve you of your sorrows (in the back of your mind, you hear Gojo accusing you of being a delinquent) but he raises his hand and rasps, “Stop, wait, it’s me.”

You don’t stop, if anything, you hit harder.

He cries out, “I told you once if I had kids, I would want two daughters.”

Your fist hovers in mid air, cursing your weak heart because this is a trick. Gojo killed him, and Gojo never, ever fails.

He failed Riko Amanai, you think.

There’s no way.

Getou sits up, forcing you to topple off of him before he catches you. He settles you on his long legs. You’re dazed and sad and tired of denying yourself hope, but even more tired of hoping only to have your dreams crushed.

Everything hurts. There’s pressure behind your eyes like you want to cry but the tears won’t come the way you need them to, great heaving sobs like the night Getou died, purging and cleansing. Instead, you hiccup and dry heave like a child, clutching his yukata in your fists, torn between hoping and not hoping, knowing both of them will hurt you either way.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he croons, pressing your foreheads together, and at first you want to push him away but the other part of you rebels, clinging desperately to him like he’s a ghost that will fade away without your touch. You’re disgusted with yourself but you want more. You’ve never had the discipline that Utahime has. Getou is a liar and a criminal and a traitor, and you want him all the same, your innocent, bloody villain.

“Come back home,” you whisper. “Please.” It shocks you as much as it shocks him because you didn’t think anything close to that would be the first thing out of your mouth, but you mean it. You want him to come home, to hell with the elders. You and Gojo would fight everyone and everything to keep Getou with you. It’s an impossible request, but you’re asking anyway, hoping he’ll say yes.

“The problem is you still think it’s home.”

You don’t know what else to say, because you’ve played your last card, your only card, really. Getou’s always been better with words, and you hold no hope of persuading him if he’s outright refusing. You wait patiently for him to ask you to come with him, forfeit your entire existence to murder the very people you swore to protect, and wonder if you’re going to do it. After all, you’ve surprised yourself a lot today.

He doesn’t offer. He really just wants the chance to explain himself and say goodbye. You want to bash his skull in with your knife, and you want to kiss him until he cries. You can love him, but that doesn’t change who he is - a monster who killed his own parents and an entire village.

Somehow, it was easier to accept that when he was dead. Probably because then, you had no hope of him reciprocating, so you could love and mourn him in peace, doing no harm to the dead.

This is different. This is an ethical transgression on unparalleled levels because he is a murderer, and you love him enough to not care, and it terrifies you.

The familiar sound of his gentle voice calling you sweetheart burns. “I can explain everything, I swear, but I need time. Can you give me that? Can you believe in me?” His face is so earnest and sweet, and he looks so much better than he did before he went rogue. There’s no trace of exhaustion in his face, his shoulders are strong and broad, his hair shiny. You didn’t know criminals on the run had time to hair mask.

“You didn’t kill them?” You ask, heart in your throat. You know the answer. Gojo would never agree to hurting Getou if there was a chance, however small, he hadn’t committed the crimes he had, but his simple presence here is a miracle. What’s one more?

That’s the problem, when good things happen. You get greedy.

His denial is like waking up to cold water. “No. I definitely did.”

You shove his arms off your shoulders and clamber off of him even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to go back, close your eyes, pretend this isn’t happening and just love Getou like nothing had ever gone wrong, but you refuse. You’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You’re used to doing the hard things, even when it hurts.

“You disgust me,” you snarl, and you get ready to -

To what? Are you going to kill him? Bring him in? That would be the same as sentencing him to death, too.

In the middle of your deliberation, Getou suddenly clutches at his head like it’s being split open. You’re not sure what’s going on, if this is just another manipulation tactic of his to have you rushing back to him in forgiveness, but that’s when you notice the long gash in his head, stitched closed.

“Run.” He says. He grabs your sleeves and hauls you down so you can look into his eyes. “Run! You have to go, he’s coming, he- Ugh.” He slumps over, breathing hard and fast, hand still scratching at the barely healed over stitches.

You’re confused and scared and lost, and you obey, running through the forest like the devil himself was on your heels. You don’t think, just flee, all the way back to your car. When you get back to campus, you’re determined not to tell anyone. It was a hallucination, a cruel trick your beleaguered mind played on you, aided by the technique of curses. Later that day, you come back to finish the curse off, and Getou’s gone. It’s what you expected, and yet, some part of you is disappointed. Your resolve hardens to steel.

You can’t tell anyone about this. The greater part of you thinks it a hallucination not worth telling. If the elders found out, they’d probably throw you in the mental ward like they did with all “hysterical” women, and good riddance. They’d be glad to wash their hands of you, a sorcerer too weak to be helpful to them.

The other, quieter part of you fears that if he’s real, if somehow, you’ve really been granted a second chance - then he’ll die again. Turning him in is a death sentence. You just have to hope that if it wasn’t an illusion - and you have hope, you always do, even when it’s idiotic - he’s smart enough to stay away, to leave the jujutsu world behind for good. You swallow hard.

Even if it means leaving you behind.

For a while, everything is fine, or as fine as it can be, given the circumstances. Getou’s a curse user now, and you’ll never see him again, but you can live with that as long as he survives. You don’t think he’s dumb enough to show his face in the jujutsu world again. Secretly, you hope that he escaped and is living somewhere in paradise with the little girls he rescued, in a nice, warm cottage with strawberry plants in the garden and a fluffy white cat. You’re starting to believe that he made it, that he’s off living it up with his little found family, because you’re naive, and no matter how many times your miserable existence tries to beat it out of you, hope insists on making a fool out of you. You can’t stop, even when you know it’s futile for any sorcerer to imagine anything besides the worst case scenario in any situation. Bad things happening is the way of life, good things is a stroke of luck, a momentary reprieve before nature resumes its course. You even dare to think that he’s lucky, because he escaped the hell that is the jujutsu world.

Life is never that kind to sorcerers - even ex-sorcerers, though, in this case, one could say Getou brought it on himself, attacking the entirety of the jujutsu world in such a way. When Gojo Satoru kills your boyfriend, at least the kids aren’t around to see you lose it (because Getou injured them so badly they’re all hanging out in the morgue with Shoko). You’re torn between grief and rage, because you know he deserves it. You still can’t reconcile the image of him in your head, sweet, kind, Getou, who would always go easy on you, with the man that nearly murdered your students. But you also can’t stop blaming Gojo.

Jujutsu sorcerers aren’t supposed to have regrets, but it’s hard, looking back, not to feel sorry for attempting to murder Gojo Satoru the day he came home from killing your boyfriend. It wasn’t his fault, after all, even if it had felt like it at the time.

No one told you what Gojo’s last mission was because of your relationship with Getou, but as soon as Gojo walked back onto campus, his white hair matted with blood that wasn’t his and his shirt stained with sprays of red, you just knew. You had been running to greet him because attempting to jump Gojo whenever he came back from a mission was an age old tradition, born of him always being first in class and power rankings, and you, forever trying to claw your way to the top, even in the face of his overwhelming natural talent. Of course, back then, it had been a friendly conflict, your way of welcoming him back and his way of indulging you.

This was much less friendly and much more of homicidal intent.

It takes Utahime and Shoko combined to drag you off of him, though you aren’t doing any damage. Gojo, as always, is untouchable. He doesn’t let down his Infinity, but he doesn’t try to erase your existence for daring to lay a hand on him either, which is as close as you’re getting to mercy from him.

If you had been just drifting through life when you thought Getou had abandoned you, in the wake of his death, you’re burning out. For a while after his death, you think you’re just waiting for the same thing to happen to you. You throw yourself into battle after battle, accept whatever missions are given to you and collect scars on your battered body. You’re not going to kill yourself, but you’re not going to fight it either. It turns out, passive suicidal tendencies - surprise! - still count as suicidal tendencies, according to Shoko.

Waiting for death, you find, is unexpectedly hard. Your body wants to fight. It doesn’t want to give up, every survival instinct pulling you out of danger, pushing your lungs to take in more air, keep fighting even when you’re dead tired. It fights hard for itself even when you don’t care, all too willing to just accept whatever happens to you. Every day, Shoko fixes you up, scolds you, and sends you on your way, and every day, you repeat the same process that lands you in her morgue, until one day, it’ll happen for real.

Nanami intervenes before that happens, because he’s a good man. Good men are rare in sorcery. You thought Getou was one, but clearly not, demonstrated by the full blown murder spree he’s gone on. You’ve always held a soft spot for your junior. He corners you in the hallway after your last narrow brush with death, the exorcism of a special grade curse that was particularly nasty. You might have earned a promotion with that one. It was a hard fight. You don’t think you’ll survive the next, and that’s precisely why Nanami invites you to dinner.

He’s a good cook, but he’s not Getou. He doesn’t remember all of your allergies and dislikes, and you end up picking all the mushrooms out of your dinner. Everything reminds you of Getou. You choke on your bitter laughter, and Nanami is polite enough not to say a word about it.

“When Haibara died,” he begins, the pause in his speech between Haibara and died making it very, very clear that this is difficult for him to talk about, “I thought it was the end for me too.”

He shakes his head when you frantically attempt to shush him. You don’t want him opening old wounds for your sake, but he ignores you. “Someone you love is gone. The existence of the world feels disgusting to you.” He says love, not loved. You should’ve known Nanami would understand. He always does.

“At first, everything is hateful to you. The sun, for daring to rise. Birds, for their annoying song. Gojo, for being Gojo.” He pauses. “The last part is normal, but the rest of the world feels intolerable now. It’s as if they took you to the grave with them.”

Nanami’s inscrutable eyes make you uncomfortable. Technically, Gojo has the Six Eyes, but right now, Nanami feels like the all seeing one. Casually, he reaches over and pulls your plate to him, cutting up the meat for you. Your throat closes up with unshed tears, though that might also be the anaphylactic shock from the mushrooms. Getou used to do that for you, too. He never let you cut your own food.

Nanami finishes dicing your steak into perfectly bite sized pieces, and throws the knife at you, in a perfect, straight line at your shoulder. You knock it out of the way.

“What the fuck?” You’re already looking around for assassins, maybe curse users with mind or body control techniques, but Nanami doesn’t make another attempt to hurt you.

“What did you learn from that?”

“That you’re spending too much time with Gojo. Have you gone insane?”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You think he’d make a great teacher, since he already has the aggrieved expression down pat when something is clear to him, but confusing to everyone else. He’d be better than Gojo, that’s for sure, if he didn’t fling knives at all his students.

“The lesson was supposed to be that you’re alive, and you want to stay alive, even if you don’t realize it right now.”

“No way.” You could be less rude to him, considering how he’s going out of his way to help you out, but he’s also practicing circus tricks on you, so you don’t feel inclined to politeness at the moment. “I would’ve never known if you didn’t show me. Quick, can you check my pulse?”

He looks unperturbed. “It means,” he says patiently, “no matter how much it feels like you already have one foot in the grave with them, you’re still alive. Don’t be so quick to throw yourself away. We’re all bound to die eventually, in this career. You don’t have life to waste.”

Nanami is a terrible therapist, but a good friend. He says, “Now finish your dinner and stop trying to kill yourself.”

“There we go. You could’ve just said that at the beginning.”

“It wouldn’t have made as much as an impact,” you’re tempted to tell him throwing knives at you didn’t make much of an impact either, but wisely keep your mouth shut. “Besides, you got free dinner out of it. Stop complaining.”

When eventually, Nanami leaves too, for a normal life, nothing stops you from throwing yourself into your work.

The second time you lose yourself, it’s so much worse. This marks the twelfth time Shoko has basically rescued you from the clutches of death in the morgue. Gojo’s the strongest sorcerer, but in your opinion, Shoko’s closer to being the most powerful. That might also be your favoritism talking. She grabs your arm as you get up to leave. “Stop dying.”

You’re a really terrible person for making all of your friends repeat this talk with you. “Not dead yet.”

“Stop trying to die,” she amends. “You’re making more work for me and I don’t like it.”

You roll your eyes. Of course she was worried about the extra effort it took to keep you alive. If Getou was here-

The thought registers like a blow to the chest. If Getou was here, this wouldn’t be happening at all. Shoko grips your arm hard enough to bruise. “I’m serious. I’m not going to let you die, so stop trying. It’s not going to work and it just makes my job harder.” Her face is grim.

“I’m not going to let you die,” she repeats, like she can keep you in this world through willpower alone. You feel guilty, all of a sudden, for what a terrible patient you are, and how snappish you’ve been with her. Hurting doesn’t mean you have the right to take it out on your friends, but remembering that only comes after the guilt, and the guilt only comes after the self sabotage.

Speaking of self sabotage, the last time you saw Gojo, you attempted aggravated assault on his person, but when the news came down that he’s been captured (the first time you hear it, you’re disbelieving) you’re the first to volunteer to go to Shibuya. You can’t lose anyone else.

You didn’t expect to gain someone back, but when you get there, the person on the other side of the battlefield is Getou, and suddenly, you know how Gojo, invincible, omniscient Gojo, could’ve gotten captured. Love is the worst curse of all.

Ignoring all sense, ignoring the fact that he’s captured Gojo - you hadn’t believed he was capable of hurting him, even now. You hurtle across the battlefield to him, past Itadori Yuuji and - was that a cursed womb? It didn’t matter. You only had eyes for Getou, but when you get closer, your heart sinks.

Even just listening to his voice, you know it isn’t him. It’s like the air has been knocked out of you - there’s no point in fighting, not anymore. You crumple to your knees. That’s not Getou. That thing is using your Getou’s mouth to murder your friends and bring about the end of the world. Distantly, you hear Yuki Tsukumo’s arrival, feel her try to haul you to your feet, but you can’t move on your own. The thought rings through your head. Getou is gone.

Kenjaku is reveling in his victory while Yuki tries to keep him at bay. She’s strong, she has to be, she’s a special grade, but she’s no Gojo Satoru and you’re dead weight. She can’t protect everyone. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Itadori Yuuji doing his best to dodge attacks. He’s a child. You have to fight, but there’s an emptiness inside of you that’s sapping your strength. Still, you muster up enough to reach for the dagger hidden in your coat, a gift from Maki Zenin, one of your favorite students.

The air stills. The relentless cacophony of the battlefield comes to a stop as the hairs on your arm stand up. Directly across from you, one of Kenjaku’s hands reaches up to grip his own throat. Getou Suguru says, “Give me back my body.”

Kenjaku coughs. “Ugh. Just a little voice in my head. As I was saying -“

The hand around his throat tightens. “I’m Getou Suguru. This is my body.”

Kenjaku frowns. “You have no claim to this body anymore. You’d be dead without me. Just go back to sleep.”

More insistently, Getou’s presence fights to the surface. “How are you doing this?” Kenjaku marvels. His eyes widen and he lifts his hand to stare at the object he’s clutching, the Prison Realm.

You should never count Gojo Satoru out.

Suguru Getou doesn’t exist anymore. He’s just a figment of Kenjaku’s imagination, clinging to life - if this can be called life - confined to the dark and murky corners of his own mind.

Go to sleep, Kenjaku says, almost fondly. They’ve been stuck together here for a long time now, long enough that Kenjaku has given up trying to get rid of him and instead just suppressed his presence.

He’s so tired. Kenjaku’s right. It might be a good idea to go to sleep and yet - there’s something he’s forgetting, isn’t he? What is it? He doesn’t like thinking. It splits his head apart - is it his head or Kenjaku’s, he’s never sure who it belongs to - punishes him with endless pain. It’s better, easier, to just let Kenjaku handle things.

That’s right, Kenjaku says. This is my body now. All you have to do is go to sleep. Aren’t I merciful?

But he remembers something, a flash of blue in the darkness. The voice of his best friend - he had a best friend? He keeps remembering things that don’t belong to him, scattered memories that might be hallucinations but -

He couldn’t have imagined the earnestness, the pain in that man’s voice. He doesn’t know him, but his heart aches for him.

Getou Suguru, a silky voice sighs. He flinched because he hasn’t heard a voice beside Kenjaku’s in years, no, since he was born. They had always been like this, Kenjaku and him. Hadn’t they?

Who is this? He’s panicking.

Are you really going to let him use you like that? We’re the strongest. You better start acting like it.

Then his body crumples in on itself, pain sparking through every nerve from the impact of so much cursed energy. Kenjaku curses. “Fucking Gojo Satoru.”

Kenjaku? Getou thinks.

Hm? Nothing, don’t worry about it. I thought I told you to go to sleep.

Getou flinches away from the hard edge in his voice but something in him doesn’t forget Gojo Satoru. He turns the name over in his head, wondering. The cursed energy hurts, it burns, but it’s lifting the fog in his head.

Gojo Satoru is his best friend and you -

You’re standing in front of him, eyes wide and wary, as beautiful as the last time he saw you. His girl, his sweetheart. You’re driving a knife through his ribs and he clutches your hand, helps you angle it up directly through his heart. It’s sweet, almost like you’re back in school again, him training you after hours because he couldn’t tell you he was in love with you then, but all he wanted was to be around you, all the time.

It’s nice, the way you wrap your arms around him when the deed is done, the pressure of your chest against his driving the blade deeper. It’s not such a bad way to go.

You’re crying, he realizes, the back of his clothes are wet.

He wishes he could talk to you before he has to go, but his mouth is filled with blood. With his one hand, he undoes the binding on the Prison Realm - his best friend, of course he remembers him, Gojo Satoru - and with the other, he squeezes yours.

Don’t cry, he thinks mournfully. I promised. I’ll come crawling home to you.

He dies in your arms, the only place he has ever wanted to be.

You hold him as he dies, just like you did the first time, though you had been too late then. He dies with a smile on his lips, as Getou, not Kenjaku. You don’t feel the tears as they come. You don’t feel anything at all, not even when Utahime comes forward from the crowd of stunned sorcerers to wrap her arms around you, not even when Gojo, bleeding from his side, pulls you into his embrace.

Nothing can get to you until you speak to Yaga, and he curses you with the worst gift of all: hope.

“You’re a war hero,” Yaga says.

You don’t have to say it aloud for him to know what you’re thinking. You’d rather be nothing and still have Getou.

Yaga’s never been much of a hugger, but he startles you with one now. “My poor girl. You’ve been so brave,” he says. “I didn’t try this before because we didn’t think there was any hope left. We didn’t know if his soul was still there, but if you’re willing to let me try now, I’ll do my best.”

There’s a low chance of this working. You’re so tired, and Getou is too. You’re almost tempted to just let him be at peace, but Yaga lays his hand on your shoulder.

“Do you remember what he said when I questioned your relationship? I’d love her from beyond the grave. Don’t give up on him now.”

Gojo takes your hand as you watch Yaga work, the two of you the ones that loved Getou best, even at his worst. “Don’t give up,” he echoes. You squeeze his hand back. You had hope for eleven, long, hard years. You’re willing to hold on a little longer, if he’s willing to try too.

On the table in Shoko’s morgue, his body stirs.

title from work song — hozier. also recommend home with you — fka twigs for the vibe.

#sera writes #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #geto suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #geto suguru x you #geto x y/n #getou x y/n #geto x reader #getou x reader #getou angst #geto x you #geto angst #jjk spoilers #possibly i have no idea how caught up to the manga the anime is #getou suguru #♡ — jjk

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Lover’s Quarrel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You have the powers to resurrect if you’ve been murdered, and a jealous Steve Rogers indulges heavily in your abilities. He would not let you steal his best friend, that was for sure. So what, if your rivalry regularly caused fire and harm to public property? You just couldn’t let the other win.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut, enemies to lovers, violence, killings and murders (but reader cannot die, it’s weird. She has some sorta powers that help her revive when she’s been murdered), language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Is this crack fic? Idk. Maybe?

The sixth time Steve killed you, you decided he needed to be dealt with in a similar way. It doesn’t matter that he cannot come back from the dead like you. He just needed to go. You were tired of him offing you every time he felt threatened by your existence. But this was the last straw. He had pushed you off the Quinjet while flying home from a mission and you’d fallen into the lake and drowned. You would NOT recommend dying that way.

Bucky had dragged out your dead body and watched over you as the blessing of the necromancer worked its magic over you and brought you back to the world of the living. The first words out of your mouth as you spewed out water were, “I am going to kill your best friend and you can’t be mad at me for that.”

Bucky, far too happy to have you back – poor guy still mourned every time you died – ignored your comment and pulled you into a hug. He’d never quiet gotten used to seeing you die. You patted his back, muttering a few there-there’s until he was calm enough to press quivering kisses on your head and temple.

“You need to stop dying.” He said into your hair, holding you close.

“I would not be dying if your best friend didn’t murder me every time! He is a menace, Buck!” You cried in exasperation. The said best friend was watching you from a few yards away, and he rolled his eyes as your words reached him. He scoffed loud enough for you to hear and you sharply turned your head to glare at him.

“You!” You shouted, quickly standing up and marching over to him. “You rascal!” And then you pried out your wet shoe from your feet and threw it at his stunned face. Unfortunately, it didn’t hit his face but smacked against his chest, leaving the wet print of your soles against his far too tight t-shirt. He gaped at you open mouthed before baring his teeth in warning.

“Oh god, every time you come alive again, you’re even more awful than before!” Steve shouted, and then just because he is fucking drama queen, he threw out his hands. You sneered before turning to look at Bucky meaningfully, the most obvious ‘see what a dick he is’ look on your face.

Bucky shuffled uneasily, caught between your quarrel once again. He came behind you and gave you his jacket to wear to shield you from the cold. And just like that, your anger melted a little. Somehow, with his steel blue eyes, Bucky Barnes could sooth every wound you’d ever had. Even those given to you by Steve Rogers.

“I am so sorry. I should have seen what he was about to do. I wouldn’t have ever let you fall had I known.” He apologized and you swore your heart physically quivered. You pulled Bucky into a hug, hiding your face in his chest, savoring his arms coming around you to hold you tighter. You could have stayed in his embrace forever, but it was an annoyed groan that ripped you both apart.

“Is there any way you can stay dead a little longer?” Steve asked, breaking your moment. “I mean, I’ve tired a bullet and knife and water and poison. What can I do that you’d be gone for just a little longer?”

He was worked up, a red flush creeping on his face and neck. Pacing, he was muttering, and you wondered for the millionth time how Bucky could be friends with him. He was just so extra! You wanted to tell him to shove a stick up his ass, along with the one already there when he turned swiftly like the wind and threw a dagger at you. A metal hand caught it before it could hit you and you were pulled into the warmth of Bucky’s body quickly.

“Steve! Cut it out.” Bucky yelled, glaring at Steve. “You will not kill her again. I don’t care if she can come back alive again. You won’t hurt her.”

With that, he dropped the dagger on the ground and walked away with you. Unable to resist, you looked over you shoulder and flipped Steve off. Fucker could kill you a hundred times and yet he would not be able to do anything. As far as you were concerned, Bucky was as much your best friend as his. And if Steve Rogers couldn’t control his jealousy without trying to behead you every time he felt you were stealing Bucky from him, you would just have to make his death look like an accident.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that you can’t kill him either?” Bucky said teasingly, his eyes soft and fond. “I need you both to survive.”

You groaned, bumping your shoulder in his and snuggling into him as a cold breeze hit your wet clothes. He could read you like an open book.

“You are no fun Barnes.”

There was rubble and fires and shrieks. Natasha was yelling in Russian as she ran about with a fire extinguisher and Clint crawled out of his vents to help Bruce out who was turning a dangerous shade of green. Tony was sitting in the ruins of his kitchen, his mouth half open as he spied on the ensuing battle in the middle of it.

Sam was using his shield to push Steve away who was shouting curses that had probably not been invented yet. Bucky was holding you back by your middle, yelling in your ear to calm the fuck down but all you could think of to do was smacking Steve’s face with that chair that was currently on fire. You suppose once everyone was calm, you’d feel guilty about your part in destroying the Avengers kitchen but right now that wasn’t important.

What was important was that Steve had tried to kill you. Again. He had actually thrown a fucking grenade at you. You barely had the time to kick it away where it exploded in the kitchen and then Steve was on you, calling you a bitch in all the 9 languages he knew.

“Calm the hell down, Steve!” Sam yelled, struggling to keep Steve at bay from you. You were glad to see that Steve’s nose was busted. That will teach the bastard to ‘look down his nose’ on you now.

“She pierced my ears! The fucking bitch pierced my goddamn ears!” Steve yelled. Even you had to admit, the golden hoops looked amazing dangling from his ears. Just perfect.

“You are lucky I didn’t stick a knitting needle in your eye Rogers!” You sassily replied, “The only reason you’re still in one piece is because I promised my best friend that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The muscles in Steve’s arms tensed and Sam groaned, barely keeping his own footing. A dark shadow seemed to have crawled over Steve’s face, turning the blues of his eyes an angry shade and had you been a weaker person, you would have trembled. This was the face of someone who had stood against armies alone and came out victorious. But for all you cared, he could kiss your ass.

“He is MY best friend. Mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. Bucky Barnes is mine and I will kill you a thousand times until it sinks in your thick skull!” Steve growled. You scowled, a scathy remark bubbling on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly stopped. Why say when you can show? So, looking Steve directly in the eyes, you went limp in Bucky’s arms, turned around and cupped his face. And then you kissed his cheek.

Steve let out a strangled cry behind you, but you focused on Bucky who was blinking in disbelief at your audacity. And so, just for the heck of it, you kissed his other cheek. And then his forehead.

“Bucky Barnes, you are my best friend and always will be!” You said, hugging the life out of him. You heard Steve break away from Sam, heard Bucky yell out a curse and holding you protectively as his jealous pal came rushing to claim him. And all through that and the chaos that ensued later, you just smiled broadly.

Tony was giving a lecture, and he sucked. He gesticulated too much for your liking, and you really didn’t like how he kept emphasizing things by looking pointedly at you. It wasn’t even that much of a big deal, and even if it was, it was not your fault. Like every other time, the only person who could be held responsible was the blond super soldier sitting beside you, wearing the same shade of annoyance on his face as yours.

“I repeat” said Tony, his hair askew, “we do not use Friday to settle idiotic, absolutely ridiculous personal vendettas!”

“You have Friday tell you how pretty you look every day!” You countered and Tony slammed his hand on the table.

“Because I am!” He huffed. “You, on the other hand, stopped a mission in the middle to ask Friday who had a higher score! I mean, what the actual fuck? And what score?”

Steve had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. You however didn’t put up with any of that nonsense. It was his idea anyway, and you wouldn’t take the fall for him. Not when Tony looked murderous like this.

“Rogers bet me he’d take down more enemies than me. We only asked Friday to keep a count. I had literally nothing to do with it.”

Tony turned the ire of his glare at Steve who was too busy giving you a dirty look. He was just pissed you won, and that Bucky had spent the entire ride back tending to your wounds rather than Steve’s. It wasn’t your fault his jealous ass always threw a fit whenever he saw you and Bucky together.

“You said the team could use Friday as we saw fit.” Steve said, though he did look a little guilty. It wasn’t like him to lose command and control. Even when he’d been Captain America, he had never let anything rattle him. Not until you had come prancing in his life and stealing his best friend.

“I said the team could use Friday, not stop everything in the middle of a high risk mission to see who has a bigger dick.” Tony said, and then he just collapsed in his chair. Poor guy had been working too hard to carry the team forward, and in that moment, even you felt guilty. Your rivalry with Steve shouldn’t have to affect everyone else, not when they had been so welcoming and loving to you ever since you joined.

You walked over to Tony and dropped a kiss on his head, caressing his hair. “I am sorry Tones. You won’t have more trouble from me.”

Tony looked at you as if seeing an angel. He looked at you as if you were the solution to all his troubles. Despite every furniture of his you’d broken and set fire to, he was so grateful to have one sane voice between them. Cupping your hands, he looked imploringly at you and asked, “Really? You’re gonna stop fighting with Steve?”

At that, you solemnly nodded and patted his hand gently. Poor him and the poor team going through hell because you and Steve couldn’t settle your differences. It was obvious what had to be done.

“Of course I will” You said magnanimously, because of course you were the better of the two. “Steve just needs to find another best friend and there won’t be any reason to fight anymore.”

If any of them had been drinking water, they would have spit it out. Since they didn’t, they just kind of choked on their saliva and sputtered at you in absolute disbelief. Tony actually looked betrayed and Steve seemed to have licked a lemon, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“She” He said, voice thick with contempt, “needs to go away. We can launch her in outer space or somewhere from where she can never return. You know why? Because Bucky is my best friend. Since we were yay high!” And he raised his arms a foot off the ground to show just how high.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Rogers opened his mouth and any goodwill you had had went poof. So, you did the only reasonable thing any sane person would do right now and that was to flip him off and call him a pig. You knew he was inching to strangle you; you could see his fingers twitch. A part of you was anticipating it, for Bucky would never forgive him for killing you again. Just as he would have lunged at you, push Tony out of the way and did you away for good, Bucky burst into the room with the expression of a cantankerous 100 year old grandpa who had had enough with the world.

“For fucks sake! Just shut up you both!” He yelled and paced the room. His eyes were bloodshot and hair disheveled, a clear sign that your rivalry was taking a heavy toll on him. Steve opened his mouth to say something when Bucky raised a finger to shush him. “No no no! You listen to me you oblivious, utter moronic fucklets!”

Your mouth dropped open. Bucky never cursed at you. He had never called you a fucklet before.

“You two need to stop. You hear me? You need to STOP!” He raked a hand through his hair before kicking the ground in frustration. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep! I can’t fucking breathe without you both arguing over who is a better friend to me. So, here’s an idea. Instead of fucking me over in the middle of your sexual tension, why don’t you find a room and fuck each other? Because I tell you now, I cannot fucking take it!”

Silence sat pregnant in the room. You blinked at Bucky. Steve blinked at Bucky. Tony blinked at Bucky. And Bucky didn’t blink at all.

“That – uh – what?” You said, eloquent as ever. “That is so stupid.” And you laughed awkwardly.

Steve glanced at you and then stammered, “What? That – I haven’t – that has nothing to do with it. She and I – what?”

You both found each other’s eye, quickly looked away and just became silent. The tension in the air was suffocating you, and a terrible heat was settling in your stomach. Without another word, you walked out of the room, muttering about how ridiculous the whole idea was. The three men watched your exit, and a moment later, Steve left too, still very much in disbelief.

Tony and Bucky sighed, sitting across from each other and just taking in the fact that the elephant in the room had finally been address. A moment later, Tony began drumming on the desk, looking up at the ceiling.

“I couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

You felt antsy, as if staying one more moment in your room would drive you mad. You kept jerking your legs and arms, a weird restlessness in every action of yours. What the hell was Bucky saying? The sheer nerve to imply that you…you and Steve had some sort of feelings for each other. You hadn’t heard that kinda crap since you nursed your nephew who’d had diarrhea.

The only reason you and Steve fought was because you wanted Bucky. He was supposed to be your best friend, and clearly it was his inability to decide who he preferred more that had led you here. And to pretend, on top of that, that it was you who was at fault was just ridiculous. As if you’d touch Steve Rogers with a ten foot pole.

But…would you? You suppose he couldn’t be that bad to touch. He did have gorgeous eyes that got all dark and dilated when he fought with you. And his breath hitched when you got him mad and he bit his lip to stop from cursing you and he flushed a very becoming shade of red that started from his cheeks and disappeared down the neckline on his tight shirts that –

Holy fuck!

The realization rocked your world. What the hell? When you thought about it again, it seemed as if you’d just described Steve being aroused. Did you really fight him and got him mad to stimulate yourself? Oh god. Bucky was right. You wanted to fuck Steve.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. You quickly changed into your work out gear and rushed to the gym, intent on sweating out whatever feelings you might have for Steve. After all, nothing says fuck you like imagining someone’s face on a punching bag and just going to town on it. Thankfully, when you arrived the gym was empty.

You’d been working on your stretches for only a few minutes when your worst nightmare entered the gym. He probably had the same idea as you and froze the moment your eyes met. His blue eyes narrowed at you and you stood up straight. You hated Bucky for putting the thought in your head. Now all you could think of was tackling Steve to the ground and fucking him senseless. You still wanted to beat him, but in a very different way.

As Steve entered, his eyes fixed to your form, you decided it was time to leave. After that fiasco in front of Tony, you didn’t think yourself capable of talking to Steve. Staying alone with him was something you didn’t trust yourself with. So you picked up your bag and started for the door when his voice stopped you.

“Running away? Am I to believe that there is something that finally scares you?”

Anger, red hot anger simmered under your veins when you turned to face him again. He had a mocking smirk on his face that made you grit your teeth. His eyes, dark and challenging beckoned you to him, but they didn’t hold resentment there either. Something between you had changed today. The very air around you was different, thick with tension and apprehension that had your nerves tingling.

“Scared?” You scoffed, dropping your bag on the matted floor and walking until you stood right before him. He towered over you in height, but he’d never been able to actually look down at you. “Me, scared of you? You wish Rogers.”

One corner of his lips lifted up, and he put his hands on you. One hand hooked around your waist and pulled you closer, the other trailing a finger down the side of your face to your neck, following the path down your arm until his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Oh, I so do wish” He whispered and his lips met yours. You rose up on your toes, mashing your body against his and mapping the planes of his body with your palms. The smell of his sweat and soap surrounded you, your arms coming to hold him around the shoulders as he hitched you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Like everything in your relationship, the kiss was explosive. You didn’t melt against each other like people do in books; you collided like two warring armies intent on conquering the other. You collided like night and day, basking your surroundings in the dawn and dusk of your lust. Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, smiling as you shamelessly moaned.

“What do you say?” He asked, pushing you against the wall, his hardness digging between the heated center of your legs.

You pulled him closer, letting your lips trail over his jaw and neck before you branded him with a quick bite. “You’ve always been so aggressive Steve, let’s see you let loose some other way. I sure do hope you fuck better than you fight though, or I’ll just be disappointed.”

Steve growled, kissing you again as he ground his cock against you, trapping you between the wall and his hard body that prevented any escape. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, meeting the firm muscles on his abdomen that rippled under you. He pulled back just enough to allow you to remove your clothes, his own being flung sideways without any care.

Even before, you’d never thought of Steve as anything but beautiful, but now, seeing him in all his glory, you could only look him up and down in appreciation. He was trembling slightly, as if holding himself back with effort, his eyes not leaving you for a second. You both looked at each other, naked and unashamed before frantically coming together. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass and thighs as his lips pulled at your breast.

Your fingers rolled his nipples softly until he moaned, and then you pinched them. He jerked under your touch, kicking the back of your knees so you collapsed down, and he covered your body with his. Anger, arousal, lust and longing, all emotions built together in a storm of incoherent desire that had you both rolling over each other, fighting for dominance and power. Steve pinned you down with effort, holding your wrists in one hand over your head as he gave a smug smile to you.

“Will you finally surrender today?” He asked, positioning his cock at your entrance that was drenched. You would have loved to taste him, to have him taste you, but as of now, all you wanted was for him to slide inside you. You hungered for him, burnt for his touch. For years you’d been left wanting, and now with the prize so near, you weren’t about to wait any longer.

“The only surrender today will be yours.” You whispered sweetly before slamming your head against his. Steve jerked hard in surprise, allowing you the opportunity to free your hands and roll over him. You sat on his pelvis proudly, his throbbing member right underneath you and as he blinked at you, stunned, you rose up over his tip and slowly sunk down.

Steve groaned as your wet channel fell like velvet heat along his shaft. You had never been so full before. He stretched your limits, as he had always done, and you decided you very much preferred rendering him speechless like this under you than your usual punches and throws. His hands dug into your waist, helping you bounce on his cock and you threw your head back at the feeling.

It was a beautiful ache, one that took your breath away. As you rolled your hips and clenched down there, Steve’s voice rose in appreciation and you grinned. You finally had the golden boy at your mercy. You fucked him, changing your pace to punish him, never letting him up. For every time he killed you, you bit on his lips and neck, marking him. It was punishment and cherishing, a culmination of feelings you didn’t understand.

“Touch me.” You brokenly said, and his fingers found your nub. The slapping of skin, the sounds of debauchery and the smell of sin filled the air. You leaned over him to meet his lips, the heat in your gut bubbling until you snapped and came atop him, falling blissfully. It was one moment of weakness and the world titled, Steve having finally pushing you on your back.

“You’ve always been strong, because I’d hate to break you when the fun has only just begun.” He said and thrust into you hard and fast. He was an animal in heat, a man possessed, and you didn’t mind one bit. You met his every thrust with a raise of your hips, you clawed at his back until he bled, your lips tasting of the salt of sweat and tears and desire. He brought you impossibly closer, looking right into your eyes as he took you.

For the life of you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t get enough of his grunts and moans, of the breathy whispers of your name that slipped between curses, of the way his lashes would flutter over the dark blues that kept your eyes captive. He had you completely in that moment, mind and body; and for some reason, his gaze felt infinitely more intimate than his cock that was currently spearing you open. You keened in pleasure, whimpering as he touched your overly sensitive clit and had you coming again.

A minute later, he twitched inside you, his warmth flooding your core and you sighed. You laid entangled and sweaty, both of you spent and tired and yet completely overtaken by the urge to be closer still. To think this is what you’d both missed for all these years.

“So, what do you say, still feeling aggressive?” Steve asked and you looked at him with a grin that you couldn’t have suppressed had you wanted to. Oh yes, some battles were never meant to end, but they sure could be altered to meet new demands.

“With you? Always.” You replied, kissing him deep until he couldn’t think of anything but you. “Just remember one thing.”

“Oh yeah, what?”

“I am still a better best friend to Bucky. I did fuck you to keep him happy after all.”

Steve frowned darkly and before you could blink, he was over you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I think this time I’d fuck some manners into you.”

“I think this time you should actually put your back into it. I did all the work before.” You taunted and he dived at you.

Meanwhile, in Tony Stark’s office

“Friday, what’s the score?” He asked smugly, offering Bucky the packet of blueberries. Bucky was sitting with his feet on the desk, a small smile on his face.

“I am afraid I am not at a liberty to say Boss.” Friday replied. If the AI could blush, she would.

“Seems like they are at an impasse.” Tony suggested, and Bucky shrugged, licking his lips.

“Well, some things never change.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #crack fic #i think lol

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

How about some barbarian bakugo noncon?

Prelude - One time I came home from a walk and smelled this scent so freaking thick that I could taste it, and I almost threw up cause it smelled like skinning a deer but like, ten times worse?? and I was like lol that’s kinda weird and it turns out the neighbor had caught a skunk in a catch-and-release trap (which we gave him cause we didn’t want him catching a skunk in a trap that’d kill it) and apparently decided to kill it right then and there, and just let it by the edge of his property, right by my car. That was fun.

Anyways, Katsuki makes a big deal about reader looking different in this. You can take that any way you’d like. Personally, I was feeling insecure about my freckles (I have so many that my skin almost looks even-toned because they almost all touch rip) and my hair color/odd face so I wrote him liking that reader looked different. It’s not super deep lol

Pairing - Bakugou Katsuki X Reader X slight Izuku Midoriya

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, voyerisum, exhibistionism, blood mention lol. Idk groping?

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeWr4OsidcJClBjUEBHWI?si=OPHwLWXrTsiNQ42SlMKLEg

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There is a point where you stop screaming.

A point when you realize that no one is coming to save you, that you’re wasting your breath, that it’s fruitless. Does nothing more than raw your throat and grate against your own ears.

It’s no use. The Barbarian King seems unaffected, perhaps even spurred on by your ear-splitting screams. There’s no reason to scream anymore - it’d be impossible to scream forever.

——

Village in flames, corpses littering the streets. You’d heard about the stench of death from books, from traveling warriors who stop in your village for a night, regaling the people with tales of heroics and strength. It smelled quite different from what you had imagined though.

Metallic, yes, but tangy, thick enough for you to taste the iron seeping into the ground. Raw, like the scent of the butcher’s shop, heavy and suffocating - you hadn’t been able to breathe.

Everything had happened so fast, too fast. People were dead, people were dying, people were killing and being killed. You had been running, trying to escape the stifling aroma of your village being drained, the barbarians running amok through the streets leeching out it’s lifeblood.

Then you had been falling, tripped up by a loose limb on the ground, a body still warm and rattling with it’s last breaths. Shocked by the vivid image of the gore underneath you, a man reaching for his severed arm, you hadn’t been able to catch yourself as you fell, a cry leaving your lips.

Darkness.

And then light as you slowly blinked to awareness, slumped on the ground. A line of prisoners, prizes from the raid. You were one of them, hands bound to your neck, ankles tied to the people on either side of you. Two men had come by after a while, a green haired man in dress similar to your own - perhaps a captured man from the village?

The other man was bare chested, as many of the barbarians were, gold and red paint swirled across his skin in intricate, sharp patterns. He looked fearsome, and he barked at the green haired man accompanying him who scribbled furiously onto paper at each utterance of the fearsome blonde man.

They seemed to be going down the lengthy line of prisoners, assigning them? Selecting them for something? You didn’t know, couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were numb, sealed off from the horrific event you had just experienced, safe within your cocoon of forced apathy.

And then the two men were in front of you, the blonde man silent as he stared you down, the green haired man with his pen poised, though he studied you also.

But they quickly moved on, the barbarian barking something at his companion, before striding to the next prisoner.

You had been untied from your fellow captives, led through the barbarian camp. Red tents, warm fires and laughter filled the space, bare-chested warriors of both genders celebrating their recent victory.

The large red tent you had been led to was warm, a fire crackling in the deep pit in the center, silky furs softening the harshness of the ground. There was a table in front of the fire, a large basin filled with water nearby, close to the fire. A desk in the corner, near the tent flap, and a folding screen hiding the back of the tent from view.

Promptly tied to the leg of a table, you were left alone, the woman who had dragged you here leaving before you could ask what was happening.

Shortly, green hair popped through the tent flap, quickly followed by the rest of the man from earlier, the one dressed like your people.

“Izuku Midoriya!” He had introduced himself, giving a little flourish as he bowed, before being pushed aside as the fearsome blonde from before entered the tent.

Still tied to the leg of the table, numb to the world, you merely stared at the ground when the two men approached.

“What’s your name?” The green haired man - Izuku - asked.

He was met with a blank stare.

The blonde man growled at your lack of answer, spitting something in his native tongue, words you didn’t understand. Izuku seemed to shrink, before turning to address you again.

“Please tell us your name. Kacchan is not the most patient man.”

The fearsome man beside him bared his teeth towards you, and you shrank back. He did not seem the type of person who tolerated being left waiting.

“(Y/N)….” You whispered, eyes falling to the ground.

“(Y/N), ah! Such an interesting name, the first part means-“ Izuku was cut off from his ramble with a shove from the blond man - Kacchan - who crouched down in front of you, rolling your name around his tongue.

Turning, he spoke to Izuku in the same jumbled language, who listened, then addressed you as Kacchan turned back to study you again.

“Kacchan would like to know uhm, uuh.....” Izuku trailed off, uncertain eyes flickering between you and the blonde.

Kacchan scoffed, listening to Izuku’s hesitancy with disdain, saying something directed at the younger man, yet Kacchan’s eyes were fixed on you the entire time. It was intimidating.

“He uh, wants to know ifyou’reavirgin.”

Oh god.

Even though the man’s words were rushed, you understood, limbs beginning to shake. You were going to be violated.

A finger poking your calf made you jump, the blonde man leering at you, head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised as if to say “Well?”

You shook your head - lovers had existed in your life, not many, but you still cherished each one deeply, thought back on the experiences you shared fondly.

When relayed this information, the blonde man seemed to grin even wider, rising to his feet. “This will be easier then, no need to go slow.”

With a gasp, you lifted your gaze, wide eyes taking in the man hovering above you. His words were completely forgotten as you took in the shock of understanding his words. He spoke your tongue? Wasn’t he using an interpreter? Why-?

The confusion must be apparent on your face, because Kacchan scoffed, turning to stride to the table, taking a seat facing the fire.

“It pays to play dumb.”

“Loose lipped locals give information more freely when they assume that Kacchan can’t understand them.” Izuku beamed, crouching down in the Barbarian’s previous place to begin untying the rope binding your hands and feet to the table leg.

“Stand up for me please.”

You did as Izuku asked, shakily rising to your feet with a helping hand from Izuku on your arm. He began leading you towards the basin nearby, Kacchan watching the two of you with sharp eyes.

“Do you need help with the fastenings?” Giving Izuku a confused look, your eyes fell to the basin, to the fire, to Kacchan seated at the table. Were they going…. Were they going to boil you alive? Eat you?

Trembling even harder now, it was only Izuku’s surprisingly strong grip on your arm that kept you upright, knees giving out beneath you.

“Help her out, she’s damn near useless.” Kacchan’s strong voice cut through the air, the air that seemed too thick, the air that was choking you, throat closing up.

What does one even do in this situation? Do you beg for your life? Scream for help? Who would come? Accept your inevitable fate?

There was no time to make a decision, however, because Izuku’s nimble fingers were pulling at the fastening of your dress, quickly unlacing it.

You were numb again, fingers leaden, legs heavy, mind fuzzy and listless. Izuku peeled down the top of your dress, and you barely thought to cover yourself - you’d be dead in minutes anyways, what did it matter?

Still, your hands rose to your breasts, shielding them from view involuntarily. Kacchan snorted from his sweat, but said nothing.

When you were completely bare, an arm over your chest, a hand over your sex, Izuku ushered you towards the basin, prompting you to step into it.

This was it, you were going to die.

One last shot of fear raced up your spine, and you turned to the green haired man by your side, his hand falling away from the small of your back. “Please, please don’t kill me, I don’t know what I did but please spare my life. Please, I’m sorry.” Tears were burning your vision, throat choked up with thickness.

Kacchan burst into laughter. “I’m not gonna kill you, the fuck?! Goddamn, your people call us barbarians yet you’re afraid of a bath, fucking hypocrites.” There was a mirthful glint in his eyes when you looked at him, the man leaning back in his chair, arms resting behind his head as he relaxed.

Izuku chuckled also, putting his hand on your lower back again, gently pushing you towards the basin. “You’ll be okay, it’s just some warm water. It’s close to the fire because we don’t want you to catch a chill. You know, the human body actually operates best when it’s within the temperatures of-“

“Deku, shut your trap before I come kick your ass, just get the girl into the water, you dumb fuck.”

The water was warm, and it felt pleasant against your skin, just on the right side of too warm, hot enough to have you relaxing your shoulders as you sank down lower, the liquid covering you up to your neck.

Izuku-Deku? Held your hair out of the way, quickly using a scoop to wet down the strands before rubbing some kind of herbal scrub through your scalp, cleaning out the dirt and debris that had gathered during the raid. You were certain you were absolutely filthy, covered in mud and small scraps, half of your side crusted with dried blood and muck from falling in the bloody street.

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at your earlier panic, silly and like a stupid child, thinking that they were going to boil and eat you. It was clear now what their intent had been, but riddled with fear your thoughts had been clouded and slow.

Fear was still present, rolling through your brain in waves, goosebumps rising from your flesh as you tried to hypothesize what was going to happen to you. From their earlier questioning, you had a faint idea, but you couldn’t bear to think about that outcome, didn’t know if you could tolerate it.

Instead, you let the warm water soothe your body, washing away the grime and dust. Izuku’s hands were gentle in your hair, as he massaged your scalp, as he rinsed out the soap. You tried to ignore how his breath hitched whenever you shifted - you couldn’t keep all of your body covered, no matter how you positioned yourself.

His hands disappeared from your hair, instead prompting your to sit up straight so he could scrub at your body with a cloth smelling of the herbal soap.

It felt weird, and goosebumps arose on your skin as strange hands touched your body. You closed your eyes and endured, for there was nothing else that could be done.

Running would be a bad idea - a naked woman sprinting through the barbarian camp would surely be caught and violated, or brought back to this tent for some twisted punishment. And you could only run if you managed to get past the two men, who ere watching you like hawks, and much, much stronger than you.

Izuku’s hands paused briefly at your chest, eyes flickering over to the blonde man, who nodded in permission. Then Izuku’s hand were running the cloth across your breasts, washing them in gentle circular motions, taking care to not scrub too hard or push too deep.

You bit your tongue as you waited for it to be over.

And it was soon, at least that part. Then the green haired man was instructing you up on your knees, facing him. Telling you to grab onto his shoulder (the man was also kneeling) and spread your legs apart.

Trembling limbs obeyed, face flushing bright red as you followed his commands, eyes squeezing shut so you wouldn’t have to look at his own flushed face.

He ran the cloth down your back, over your ass, then slipped it between your legs to wash your sex with easy swipes of the cloth. The man’s breathing picked up subtly, and you could tell, leaning up against him as you were. His hands wandered, the cloth moving slower and slower upon your cunt, almost stroking at your folds, his fingers pressing through the cloth.

“Oi, Deku! Keep your shitty hands to yourself, you’re supposed to be washing her up, not feeling her up, shitbrain.” Kacchan barked, slamming his fist down against the table to get Izuku’s attention.

Both you and the man in front of you jumped, Izuku immediately blushing the deepest red you’d ever seen, flashing the blonde an apologetic look and you a nervous smile, before he seemed to gather himself, continuing to dutifully cleanse your nether regions.

It was awkward for the both of you, feeling his hands run over your private areas, over your sex, through your ass cheeks. But then he was down, rinsing you off with scoops of warm water before fetching a large towel, ushering you out of the basin, holding out the towel to wrap around your body when you stepped out.

Then you were ushered closer to the fire, sat upon a small stool as you huddled close to the warmth, clutching the towel tightly around you. The air was quite warmer than outside, but was still cold to your wet skin.

Izuku began running his fingers through your hair, parting knots, patting sections dry with a corner of the towel. By the time he was finished, you felt warm again, face rosy from the heat of the fire.

The heat felt pleasant, like the feeling of a full belly after a long day.

You were tired, exhausted from the emotional weight you had endured. Village burned, tripping over corpses and disembodied limbs, taken captive, forced away from your fellow villagers. Stripped down and fondled - at this point, you just wanted to sleep.

To sleep and sleep, wake up and have this all be a bad dream. Some twisted nightmare your mind conjured up while in the warmth and safety of your own home.

A large hand upon your shoulder roused you from your half-asleep state, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the quietness of the tent. You jumped, turning to find Kacchan towering over you and Izuku both.

Kacchan crouched, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hair, then onto your cheek. “You look so fuckin’ weird.”

Izuku sputtered. “Oh my god, what he means to say, is that we’ve never seen anyone like you before. You’re… quite unique, and very um, attractive.”

You leaned away from the hand on your cheek, and Kacchan let you, red eyes blinking slowly as they scanned your features. He was an odd man, as was Izuku. There was an obvious dynamic of power, Izuku submitting to Kacchan willingly.

“Alright, you’re dry enough, get up.” You blinked at Kacchan, processing his words, before he huffed out a breath, rising to his own feet. “C’mon, let’s go, are you stupid? Get the fuck up.”

You scrambled to your feet, towel still wrapped tightly around your body, preserving your modesty.

Kacchan’s hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you along with him as he strode towards the back of the tent, towards the sectioned screen acting as a wall.

“Deku, make your ass useful and dump out the bathwater, will ya?”

You weren’t able to see Izuku move due to the hand forcing your head forward, but you could hear his footsteps as he hurried to do what Kacchan instructed.

Rounding the screen, it was clear to see that this was where the Barbarian King slept, a pile of cozy-looking furs strewn in a pile on the ground.

You were promptly shoved towards them, stumbling down to your knees as you lost your balance. The furs provided cushion though, soft and inviting.

But you were scared again.

It was happening, it was going to happen, you were going to raped by the King.

Turning back towards the man, you began to plead, hands securing the towel around your shoulders like a safety blanket. “Sir, please, don’t do this, why me? You can have anyone, not me, please not me.”

He ignored you in favor of beginning to strip, unfastening his cloak, removing his weapons. You decided to try and appeal using a more personal approach.

“Kacchan-“

Suddenly the man was in your face, his own visage twisted into a growl.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that. Stupid ass Deku made that shit up when we were kids, I’m not some brat anymore. I’m Katsuki-“ He backed away from you, leaving you trembling. “-Barbarian King.”

The man resumed removing his clothes, dropping his belt to the ground, grumbling as he began to undo his pants. “Should beat his fuckin’ ass for calling me that, so goddamn disrespectful. Fuck him, stupid little ass wipe twerp-“

You tuned him out, frozen. What could you do? Another impasse where your options were none.

A strong hand gripped your shoulder, or more accurately, your towel, tugging it forcefully away from you.

“No!” You cried, trying to pull it back, to cover yourself, but the man was stronger, ripping it away before you could utter another word.

“No! Stop, please!” You tried again, finally taking in Kacc-Katsuki before you. He was naked now, aside from the paint decorating his skin. His cock was quickly hardening, plumping up with each step he took towards you as you scrambled backwards.

“Katsuk-Katsuki, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything! Please just have someone else!” You sobbed, back finally meeting the wall of the tent.

Katsuki smirked, crouching down just out of your reach. “You’ll do anything? You’ll let my horde use you as a toy then?”

Dread flowed through your already fear-filled body, and you gulped thickly, eyes closing.

“No?”

Shaking your head, you started to cry silently, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re already doing fucking anything.” Katsuki growled, hand shooting out to grab your ankle, dragging you down and towards him.

A high-pitched cry left you as he pulled you under him, until he was hovering over you, grinning. “Cry all you want, ain’t gonna change a damn thing. In fact-“ He surged down, until his forehead touched your own, red eyes blazing “-It just turns me on more.”

The man pulled away, a hand falling heavily around your throat, giving a compulsory squeeze before hie started moving his hand downwards, fingers skimming across your flesh.

Immediately, your own hands caught his own, trying to still their journey as they neared your breasts. Katsuki paused, a sound akin to a growl falling from his throat as his eyes flickered away from your body and up to your own eyes.

There was a threat there, a warning. Let him touch, or else. Trembling, you removed your hands, instead grabbing at the furs you rested upon. Katsuki made a gruff sound of approval, before resuming his exploration of your body.

“You’re like nothing I’vs ever seen before, know that? Like some fuckin’ alien or something, but damn, you’re gorgeous. Didn’t even know someone could look like this.” He mused, entranced as he watched his hands splay over your body, pinching at your skin, caressing your breasts, slipping over your stomach and down between your legs.

“Oh god, pleaseee-“ You sobbed out, cringing as a finger trailed down your slit.

Katsuki stilled, quirking a brow as he smiled meanly. “Please what? You wanna cum?”

“Please stop…” You whispered, eyes clenching shut again as he found your clit, giving it a few quick rubs.

The man scoffed, before quickly teasing one of his fingers into your tight hole. “Tough shit, I’ve never had whatever the fuck you are, I ain’t stopping”

His finger burned, dry and too large, and you struggled to keep from clenching down upon it in discomfort, trying to force out the intrusion. This would go easier if you relaxed, if you let him have his way. You knew that, rationally, but it was hard to make you body obey.

Katsuki prepped you quickly, fingering you open until he deemed you ready, withdrawing his fingers and crudely wiping them off upon your thigh. You twitched away at the wetness, at your own slick being cleaned off on your skin, but Katsuki ignored you.

“Why do you look like this anyway? What the fuck happened?” Katsuki asked coarsely, shuffling off of your thighs, moving to lounge by your side, studying you.

The man seemed to be taking a break, more interested in your looks than fucking you, but you were glad for the reprieve, trying to wipe tears from your face as you struggled to think of a response.

“I-I don’t know?” You finally spoke, genuinely at a loss for how to explain your appearance.

Katsuki studied you with sharp eyes, a hand reaching down to his cock, beginning to absent-mildly pump himself while he looked you over.

“I’ve traveled through every shitty little village in the north, met with the damn piss-baby tribes of the east, I’ve ransacked the towns of spoiled nobles, and I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you.”

You sat up, subtly shuffling away from the Barbarian King while you shrugged, at a loss.

Your appearance wasn’t anything superiorly unusual, but apparently it piqued Katsuki’s interest. Yes, your skin was perhaps a bit different, but it’s not like you were inhuman.

Katuski seemed to get tired of talking though, settling further back into the furs, getting himself comfortable as he jerked himself off. You refused to look between his legs.

“Alright, whatever. Get up here.”

Pausing, you looked at him incredulously. Did he mean on his lap? His chest? You didn’t want to be anywhere near him - wouldn’t he find more pleasure with someone who was willing?

“Are you fucking deaf? C’mon, up.” He growled, patting his thigh, urging you over.

A gulp before you started moving, limbs heavy and hesitant, unwilling as you slowly crawled forward, towards the intimidating, impatient blonde.

You straddled his thighs unsteadily, swinging your leg over, trying to avoid touching his cock.

Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you caught sight of it, the red tip, the precum making his length shine, the wrinkly, darker skin of his balls, his blond pubes.

You cringed, distaste evident upon your face, and you heard Katsuki chuckle darkly before his hands grabbed your hips, dragging you forward.

“What, don’t fucking like what you see? Am I not to your taste? I’ve fucked whorebag princesses less fussy than you. Get over yourself.” He spat, before taking a hand off your hip, reaching underneath you to line himself up as his other hand kept you lifted.

You trembled in his hold, twitching and swaying to the side, but this was unavoidable.

A gasp left your lips as he entered you, tip slipping through your folds, teasing into your wet hole, stretching you out.

Katsuki let out a groan, slowly dropping you down until he could remove his hand from his cock, returning it to your hip, guiding you to push further down. You felt disgusting, his cock sliding against your velvety insides, dirtying your walls with leaking precum.

When your sit bones rested against his upper thighs, his cock resting fully inside you, it felt impossible to breathe, your chest rising to draw in air but failing, the distress you felt upon being speared open seemingly too much for your body to handle.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. You got a dirty little cunt, don’t you? Feels fucking amazing.” Katsuki groaned, moving his hips minutely, relishing the grip your inside had on his cock, how warm you were around him.

“Ride me, will you? I’m getting bored down here.” He snapped after a moment, delivering a harsh slap to your rear to emphasize his words, spurring you into tentative action.

Problem is, you didn’t want to.

Your palms rested against his heated chest, eyes raising to the ceiling as your cheeks burned. This was embarrassing, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be an active participant in your violation. What would that make you?

“Oi, princess - I don’t got all night.“ Katsuki growled, landing a significantly more-jarring hit to rear, hard enough to make you squeak and jump, hips twitching at the sensation of his cock moving around your pussy at the movement.

Afraid of more forceful repercussions, you started to move, slowly sliding up, then down, creeping along, hoping it’d be enough to satisfy the man.

It wasn’t.

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath, before tightening his hold on your hips, planting his feet in the furs, then plunging into you with force. The sudden movement jostled you, and you fell forward with a cry, head bouncing onto Katsuki’s chest by your hands, the man groaning as he found a satisfactory rhythm.

“There we go, that’s fuckin’ nice.”

You cried into his chest, hands clutched into fists as you were bounced up and down, the led slap of skin too loud and jarring in the tent. The paint on Katsuki’s body was beginning to smear, sweat dampening his skin and letting the paint drip onto the ground, transfer to your own skin.

It was starting to feel good, make your stomach tighten, limbs tremble with pleasure instead of fear, and you hated it.

Slick sounds reached your ears, out of rhythm with Katsuki’s quick prods. It was wet, pulsing, as if someone-

Gasping breaths reached your ears, not from the man grunting beneath you.

Another round of cold fear dampened your arousal as you honed in on the sound, realizing it was coming from the other side of the screen.

Someone was on the other side of the screen, listening in to the Barbarian King taking you against your will.

A stuttered cry left you when Katsuki pushed too hard, hitting your sweet spot, making you clench and shudder, forgetting about the other person for a second.

But they were so loud, little gasps and moans, and the shlick, shlick, shlick, was getting faster and faster, it was impossible to ignore.

Should you try to tell Katsuki? Would he stop? Would he be mad? It was so disturbing, knowing someone was sitting on the other side of the screen, jerking themselves off so obviously .

“Katsuki-Katsuki wait, oh-“ You started, quickly cut off by a series of battering thrusts against your sweet spot.

But you had to try again. “Wait, sto-o-op, wa-unh, unh, Katsuki pl-mmh!”

“Shut up, I don’t fucking care.” The man snapped, out of breath.

“But there’s-oh…. Katsuki there’s someo-“

“I don’t /fucking care/.” Katsuki reiterated, gritting his teeth. He shut you up with another perfectly placed push against your sweet spot, and a cruel spank against your already-stinging ass.

“Ow!” You yelped, clenching up. It was clear now, that Katsuki was aware of the listener, he just didn’t mind. Maybe he got off on it, knowing someone was listening to him take apart his latest conquest.

Clenching up was the wrong response, because the Barbarian King swore, before his hips sped up, bouncing you so violently on his lap that you found it hard to breath, barely able to hang on for the ride.

“Oh…. (Y/N)….” The voice behind the screen moaned lowly, almost whispering.

It was Izuku.

You shivered, at the sound, feeling creeped out with the knowledge that the gentle, timid “interpreter” was listening. He must have returned at some point from dumping out the basin. You were feeling revolted by this entire situation, disgusted with Katsuki, Izuku, and most importantly with yourself.

Pleasure was building quickly in your stomach, zapping up into your chest, making you tingle and shake with the sensations assaulting your body.

“Sit back, fucking sit back-“ Katsuki panted, pushing at one of your shoulders to push you up, so he could see you as he fucked up into you, watch your body move, your face contorting in pleasure.

You felt like you couldn’t help it, your eyes closing, mouth falling open to let out girlish, high-pitched moans.

Your breasts were being jostled, jiggling up and down with the movement of your body, and it hurt. Hands moved to hold them, stopping their bouncing, but Katsuki appreciated the view apparently, because he groaned, pushing his head back while still trying to watch you.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Keep touching yourself princess, keep moaning like a little slut. Let Deku know how fucking good I’m making you feel.”

Your body didn’t give you a choice, noises being pushed from your throat involuntarily as Katsuki pounded into you, red eyes trained on your frame, intense and unwavering.

An orgasm ripped through you, seemingly out of nowhere despite the steady buildup of it the past few minutes. You gasped, breathing catching in your throat, hips furiously grinding down against Katsuki’s as you rode it out, trying to stimulate your clit to intensify the feeling.

The noises leaving you were perverted; wet gasps, little squeaks and long moans as you fucked yourself onto Katsuki’s cock, previous hesitance forgotten in preference of chasing your pleasure.

Katsuki swore underneath you again, rabbiting his hips up into you in response, breathing raggedly as he neared his own release.

You were so lost in feeling the sensations in your own body, you didn’t register the stuttered groans on the other side of the screen, the speedy clicking of Izuku jerking himself through his own orgasm, the almost-silent spatter of his cum hitting the screen.

Katsuki swore once more, a vehement “Shit, shit!” before he pulled out quickly, orgasm apparently catching him by surprise, the first few warm strings of cum shooting into your warm cunt, adding to the wet mess of your own orgasm.

The rest was aimed onto the puffy lips of your slit, one of Katsuki’s hands leaving your hips to pump his cock as he gasped, hips twitching upward at the sudden temperature change from your burning heat to the air of the tent.

Then there was just the sound of three people breathing heavily, completely spent, sweaty and dirtied from sex.

Katsuki pulled you down onto his chest, chuckling breathlessly as he brought his clean hand to your head, ruffling your hair tiredly.

“Well, you’re a goddamn catch, pussy’s like a fuckin’ vice.” The crude comment made your cheeks color, but as exhausted as you were, you couldn’t find the energy to offer a rebuttal.

“I think you’re gonna stick around for a while.” Katsuki mused, and you felt your heart drop. “Yeah, you’re a keeper. Maybe if fuckface over there-“ The blond slapped at the screen “-can stop being a pervert, we could actually fuck without feeling creeped out.” He growled, although the blonde didn’t sound irritated in the least.

A small “Sorry Kacchan” was whispered from the other side of the screen, and Katsuki laughed dryly.

“Tell you what bastard, maybe I’ll let you touch her a bit.” Katsuki said, a hand creeping down to knead at your ass. “Then you don’t have to act like a little freak. Who knows, maybe I’ll even let you fuck her if you do good translating those maps we found. Got it, you little shitnugget?”

“Mm, alright Kacchan.” Came the tired response.

You were barely awake, already drifting off on Katsuki’s warm chest, too preoccupied with the red and gold paint no doubt smearing against your cheek than with the conversation going on around you.

You could panic about that later.

#fun skunk story #srsly the air was so thicc #it made my eyes water and my stomach cramp #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #barbarian #barbarian katsuki #barbarian bakugou #tw dubcon #tw noncon #dark bakugou #kidnapping #captive #blood #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere

1K notes · View notes

hispipsqueak · 3 years

Text

Good Little Pet

Satan x F!Reader - NSFW

WC: 2.5K

TW: pet play, anal play, choking, master/pet dynamics, maid outfits, light degradation, unprotected sex

A/N: I’ve been on a huge Satan kick lately. I roast the hell out of him, but would I still die to be his kitten? You bet! Sorry I’ve been MIA for a bit. I have so many fics I’m working on, and not enough time in the day. Thank you for all the support friends. <3 I see your tags and they honestly make my entire life! Also I did proofread this, but I’ve also been staring at it for a week so plz don’t hate me if there’s typos! :D

All characters are 18+

The House of Lamentation had been unusually relaxed today. Most of the brothers were out, leaving only three home. Surprisingly the room was mostly silent as Levi had his headphones on as he played his game and even Mammon had been quiet, as he fiddled with his D.D.D.

Satan thumbed through a mystery novel as he sipped his tea. Though he usually preferred to read in his room, the ambience here was relaxed enough for once, that he could focus.

Until the door opened and Asmodeus walked in, dragging you behind him laughing. The two of you had been out shopping and the stack of boxes you held towered above you.

"Ah, Satan could you help me with this?" You asked, giggling about something Asmo had said. Sighing as he placed his bookmark, Satan reached over to help you with the boxes, revealing your smiling face and the cat-ear headband you had on top of your head.

"Satan, isn't MC adorable as a cute cat?! Nya for us MC!" Asmo asked. You rolled your eyes, but put your hand up in a paw shape, letting out a sweet "nya". Satan's eyes widened and he could feel heat rising into his cheeks. He quickly turned around.

"Uh, yes of course. I'll be going back to my room." He placed the boxes on the floor and hurried away as you and Asmo looked at each other confused.

Satan closed his door behind him and pressed his back to the wooden frame.

Satan often considered himself to be more level headed than most of his brothers, but he couldn't deny his attraction to you. Still, he showed less emotion outwardly than the rest of the brothers and he prided himself in that. However, seeing you in those cat ears, giving cute little meows as your eyes gazed up at him? Satan could feel his growing erection tenting his pants.

He had seen one of Levi's games a while back that featured a cat girl in a scantily clad maid outfit on the front cover. Now, he pictured you in the same outfit, cat ears atop your head, your skimpy dress leaving little to the imagination as you knelt in front of him, your lips parted waiting for your master's orders.

Fuck. He let out a shaky breath as the image of you bent over his desk, collared and begging for him to fuck you now entered his mind. His hand slid down to his throbbing cock, desperately wanting release.

A knock at the door interrupted him.

"Satan? You left your book and your tea. I brought it for you." Your voice called out, tentatively.

Shit. Satan looked around wildly. before sitting at his desk to hide his obvious arousal.

"Come in." He called out hoarsely, hoping you didn't notice the quiver in his voice.

You opened the door, still wearing those damned ears and looked concerningly at him.

"Are you feeling alright? You rushed out of there and your face is really red." You placed his things on the desk as you walked towards him, avoiding the precarious stacks of books around the room. He quickly grabbed a book from the top of a pile and placed it on his lap as you approached him.

"I'm fine, just got lost in thought." He lied. You raised an eyebrow but didn't press it. The pile of books next to him chose that moment to clatter to the ground and before he could react, you knelt down in front of him to pick up the fallen books.

He looked down at you and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. You looked up at him innocently, identical to the naughty visions of you in his mind.

You placed a hand on his knee and he let out a low groan. Your eyes widened.

"Satan? I-"

"Come down for dinner!" Asmo's voice chirped out from outside the door. You stood up and turned.

"Do you want me to let them know you're not feeling well? I can bring you something back."

Satan nodded. He had to really take care of the very pressing issue at hand and knew he wouldn't be able to sit through an entire agonizing meal.

----

"Pass the salt, Asmo."

"I didn't hear a 'nya', MC." Asmo giggled, poking his tongue out at you. Your hand flew to your hair.

"I forgot I had these on!" You laughed.

"Let's hope Satan doesn't see those." Levi muttered.

You cocked your head. "What do you mean."

Levi's face flushed. "Uh...no reason, er, nothing!!!"

You narrowed your eyes at the reddening demon.

"Satan's obsession with cats doesn't stop at real cats. Didn't he get obsessed with that stupid cat girl game?" Belphie yawned, sliding his half-finished plate to Beel who dug in happily.

"You mean Neko Magic Maid♡. It wasn't even that good of a game!" Levi said, "It definitely wasn't as good as SuperStar Magic Maid…"

"Yeah. I don't think he was interested in the storyline." Mammon interjected, laughing.

Lucifer scolded the brothers for being crass but your mind wandered. Was that why Satan was acting so weird? After dinner, you headed to Levi's room.

"Hey Levi! I was wondering more about that game you were talking about? The catgirl one?"

Levi didn't even turn from his computer screen. "Yeah it's on that shelf. But if you really like the Magic Maid series you should start with Springtime Magic…AHHH HE'S RESPAWNED!" He yelled, ignoring you again for the game he was currently playing.

You grabbed the game and slipped out of his room quietly. Glancing at the cover you saw a cat girl dressed in a ridiculously short maid costume. Her ears and tail were perked up and she donned a black collar around her neck with a little bell and tag that read 'Master'.

You grinned as you headed to your room. This would be fun.

----

"Satan?"

"Come in."

Satan turned the page in his book. Thankfully after that disastrous night, you hadn't worn that headband again, though he'd be lying if he said the image from you that day hadn't been filling his mind as he jerked his cock each night.

He heard you step into the room, but you didn't say anything. Looking up, his jaw dropped.

You were dressed in a maid outfit somehow more revealing than the one from the game. Your breasts were practically popping out of the dress, and the short skirt barely covered your ass. He could see the slight bulge of your thighs over top of your sheer thigh-high socks and he had the urge to bite that spot over and over.

You had the cat ears on again and as you walked towards him, he could hear a jingling noise. Glancing at your neck he saw a simple black collar with his name on the tag and a silver bell.

"MC what are you doing?" He breathed out shakily. You placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing him into his desk chair.

"Taking care of you…Master." You knelt down on the floor and looked at him expectantly.

Satan blinked rapidly. He had to be dreaming.

"Can I please you, Master?" You asked. He nodded, at a loss for words, and you began to unbutton his pants, freeing his rapidly hardening cock. Your hands wrapped around it squeezing, and you slowly moved up and down. Satan let out a groan.

You moved closer, pressing your lips to the tip of his cockhead before lapping at the beads of precum from the slit. You slid his length into your warm, wet mouth and looked into his eyes, swirling your tongue around his cock. This elicited another grunt from the blonde demon.

As you bobbed up and down on his length, he rested his hand on your hair, gently pushing you deeper on his cock. You moaned around him and the vibrations made his heart race. He looked down at you, and noticed the tail that led to under your skirt.

The realization set a switch off in his brain. He bucked his hips, forcing more of his cock into your mouth.

"Ohhhh fuck. That's it kitten. You like choking on Master's cock?" He asked, his fingers gripping tightly to your hair. You could only gag around him as a response, and the noises you let out were absolutely sinful.

"Such a good little pet. Your throat is squeezing me so well, kitten. But you can go deeper, can't you? Don't you want to please your master?" He asked.

Frantically you nodded and forced even more of him down your throat, trying your best to breathe out of your nose. As you tried to pull back, his grip tightened, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes watered as you felt his cock throb in your throat and your vision blurred, from tears or lack of oxygen, you weren’t sure. He pulled back and you gasped for air, tear streaked face looking up at him. Satan panicked, apologies already forming in his head before you grinned and pulled him back into your mouth.

“Fuuuuck, such a good kitten. Addicted to master’s cock.” Satan groaned out, his eyes closing as you found your pace on his length. He could feel his release creeping up on him, a fiery feeling in the core of him as your mouth enveloped his cock. The room filled with soft pants and the jingling of the bell around your neck. He met your eyes as you continued to take him deeper. He wouldn’t last much longer if you kept like this.

“That’s it kitten, that’s it. You want master’s milk? Want your cute belly full of your master’s cum? Tell me, kitten.”

You whined around him, releasing his cock from your lips.

“Please master. Need to please you. Want your cum.” Your eyes were glassy with tears and drool dripped down the corners of your plump lips. Satan wished he could snap a picture of you looking so lewd.

“Good girl. Milk my cock kitten. Milk my fucking cock.” He gasped as you sped up around him, sloppier and more vigorously than before. Spit coated your chin and spilled onto his thighs as you wrapped your tongue around his cock.

“FUCK! Fuck, just like that!! Oh fuck, cumming!! Take it all, kitten. Fucking take it.” Satan wailed, his muscles tensing as he shot load after load down your throat. You struggled to swallow everything, with some dripping off your lips. Breathing hard, he scooped it with his finger, pushing it back into your mouth.

“Don’t waste a drop kitten.”

You sucked on his finger, a content smile on your face. He reached down, tugging your wrists and pulling you to your feet.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you kitten? Oh no...I want to explore every little bit of you.” He whispered, bending you over his desk. Flipping up your skirt he admired as the tail slid into your ass and gently tugged it, pulling a low moan from you.

“Such a naughty kitten. I can’t wait to fill all your holes with my seed.” He said, his hand palming your ass, before smacking you hard. You jolted forward with a soft whimper. He tugged at your tail again, chuckling as you squeezed your thighs together.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already squirming.” His fingers pressed against your drooling cunt. “Already this wet, just from a few tugs on your tail? What a slutty little pet you are.”

You moaned as he pressed his fingers into your cunt, the slick arousal easily letting him into you. He slowly pumped in and out of you as you attempted to grind against his palm, whining when he gripped your hips, stilling you.

“Look at you, kitten. Debasing yourself just to get off. How filthy.” His voice was sadistic and yet your body trembled with desire under his touch. Your brain was hazy with his fingers rhythmically plunging into you and all you wanted was for him to use you for his pleasure.

“Please Master. Please touch me.” You pleaded, squeezing your thighs together as he pulled his fingers out of you. He pushed you down on the desk, as he pressed his cockhead against your entrance.

“Beg.”

“Please fuck me master. Please let me cum around your cock. I need you so bad, sir – FUCK!”

Satan slammed his cock into you, causing you to cry out. His hand gripped your hip as he fucked himself deeper into you.

“Scream as loud as you want kitten, no one is going to hear you through the spells in this room. You’re clenching around me so deliciously, pet.” His fingertips bruised your skin and papers and books were knocked off the desk as he slammed into you over and over.

Your body shook and you felt so full with his cock in your pussy and the plug in your ass. You felt stretched to your limit and still he pressed on, fucking you until you saw stars.

“I can feel the pressure of your tail plug through your delicious cunt, kitten. Doesn’t it feel good to be so full? You’re such a lewd little kitten, aren’t you?” As he taunted you with his words, his fingers danced around your clit, causing your legs to feel like they were giving out. Relentless, he continued pounding into you as tears fell from your eyes.

“So, so full. So good, master! Your cock is so perfect, Master.” you babbled, your brain delirious with lust. The fire burning in your core was so overwhelming, your body ached for more and you needed him, needed your master to push you over that peak.

Satan growled, feeling his demon form activate. His tail wrapped itself around your neck, holding you in place as he wrecked you.

“Your lewd little pussy is fluttering around my cock, kitten. Are you going to cum for me? Are you going to cum for your master’s cock?” He panted out. He was close, apparent as his thrusts became harder and faster.

“Yes please Master. Let me cum on your cock!” You choked out, his tail tightening around your throat. Your eyes fluttered as you felt back arch.

“Cum for me, pet.”

That was all it took. You wailed as your cunt clenched around him, creaming around his cock. Your body convulsed and you felt dazed as you gushed around him.

“Fuck, kitten!” He groaned out. His hand slammed you down as he unloaded into you. He was so deep, you could practically feel his cum in your belly as he shot ropes of his hot seed into your body over and over. After what felt like a lifetime, he slowly slid out of you.

Picking you up he delicately placed you on his bed, wiping aways the traces of cum that dripped onto your thighs. He gently worked your tail plug out and placed it on the desk before covering you with his sheets.

“You did so good for me, kitten.” He whispered into your skin. Your eyes were too heavy to open, so you just smiled sleepily and curled into his chest. Running his hand through your hair, he undid the cat ear clips and placed them on his nightstand before succumbing to exhaustion, his whispered words barely audible.

“Good little pet.”

#obey me #obey me satan #obey me smut #obey me shall we date #satan x mc #satan x y/n #satan smut #omswd

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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

Where There Is Change

Last Name Wayne

@maribat-bdbwm

First *** Previous *** Next

Okay so I know I diverged from cannon, but I think you’ll all like this.

~~~~~~~~~~

The moment that Damian agreed, they left.

She immediately placed their phones and electronics into storage, so this game would be a little more fun.

Mari "chose" the first place that they teleported to was Paris. The irony was not lost on her.

The place that kicked her out was the first place that would open up to her. But then again most of the city adored Marinette they loved Lady Scarlet even more, but that wasn't general knowledge.

She and Damian know it is a matter of time before B figures they left the country, but hey. They mostly stuck to going between super cities in the U.S. before. But right now, it mostly was her showing him around the city the museums and then getting really inspired by the scenery.

If she was prepared with several different sketch books and pencils for both of them it was an added bonus.

She knows she subconsciously picked Paris and after a few hours it might be smart to jump again. So, she let Damian decide on a place where he wanted to go. He did warn her that if they were spotted, they need to leave immediately, but she didn’t really see a problem with it.

Because granted they’re both Wayne's, and Wayne's if you know them well enough, they will be able to hand your ass back to you on a silver platter smiling as if it was the greatest thing in the world.

So, they jumped again.

This time it was her turn to be awed by what they saw.

They were in a small alcove completely hidden; in the cave they were in the face of it was covered by bushes. But looking out she saw the mountains in the far distance it appeared to be a lake no it was larger maybe it was the ocean. Right below her was a lush courtyard filled with plant she's only seen and one other place, but the heat here was tremendous, and the sea that she could see was in the wrong direction. Apart from being far, far, far too close to where she originally thought they were.

She was going to lean forward a bit and completely break through the bushes that were covering them when a hand pulled her back. She looks back and sees her little brother holding onto her.

"We have to stay hidden Nettie, are above the League of Assassins." He whispered so quiet she could barely hear him about ten inches away, so she’s not taking this lightly.

She nodded, and they stayed there, silent. The only sound was of graphite on paper.

Then everything changed.

On instinct Marinette shot out her arm, a wooden imperial yo-yo appeared in her hand, with a quick flick of her wrist she stopped the projectile, lodging it within the wood. A quick glance at her brother and she opened up portal behind him and pushed him through without a word, closing it behind him.

She knows that it’s more dangerous if they find him here than her, so she stayed behind.

She removed the projectile and examined it, a blow dart likely with poison, seeing as a liquid was seeping into the wood of the yo-yo. She created a replica of the dart and stored the poisonous one and her yo-yo back in storage.

She took a quick breath and punctured her arm where the dart should have originally landed. And fell to the ground, slumped down.

She kept her face relaxed her body limp and she felt three, four, five separate sickly deathly auras around her. She kept her breathing at minimum, light, almost as if she was asleep. They picked her up and moved her. She realized immediately that she was being taken down the mountain, taken deeper into the League of Assassins.

Five assassins she can take them. But the one thing repeatedly crossing her mind was one phrase.

'How dare these assholes mess with her family! Her little brother! They are going to pay!'

Because she is a Wayne, and Wayne’s protect their own.

She was eventually dropped in a large room, from what she can tell, if the echoes were any indication to what she was thinking the size of the room could be. There were three more auras in this room, aside from the ones she passed to get here. What surprised her was she recognized all three.

Still acting unconscious, she heard a woman’s voice, Talia Al Ghul, speak. "What business do you have to bring this child here?" It was phrased as a question but seemed more like a snarl or demand than anything else.

"She was captured on the grounds. She’s an unknown." Was what was reported by one of the people in who had dragged her down here.

Then she heard a chuckle.

"She’s awake." That voice, she recognizes that voice. Her entire previous plan was now completely out the window. So, she lazily pushes herself up, pulling out the dart once she was on her feet.

"Damn, I thought that would last a little longer." She finally looked up and saw Damian's clone, Heretic, Talia, and Al Ghul. But something was wrong, it was bothering her. Al Ghul, he, he… he wasn’t Demon, he wasn’t her Demon anymore. All she recognized now is his voice, at least that’s what she told herself, nothing else was the same as a person she once knew. The question now is why. "I really shouldn’t have introduced you to the Order, if the result would have been this?" A smirk on her lips and now standing cocky in the middle of a room full of assassins, she is stalling. He is acting like he knows her, but his aura is indecipherable, familiar, but not.

"You should not have, but then I wouldn’t be here today, to thank you, would I? After all you allowed our family to find these pits." ‘Our Family’ she dove into her memories, but now that she needed them, they were far away and fuzzy, God damn it.

"Hmmm, I suppose not. Right now, I really wish I had turned you into a cat permanently. I found the correct spell, so I actually can now." This elicited yet another chuckle from Al Ghul which had everyone else in the room on edge.

"Really now I love to see it, after all I wasn’t able to experience it before you vanished." She quirked an eyebrow at this response, but she didn’t care about his mind games, she was stalling, trying to find out what caused this change. All her mind supplied were the plants outside. Demon wasn’t good with plants, but he was with animals, so how.

"Really you don’t wanna know why am actually here?" She asked, looking so innocent, one might believe that she was there merely an accident or coincidence.

She then turned towards Heretic, death in her blue eyes was all anyone could see, but she didn’t kill him. No, she couldn't bring herself to kill him. He may have killed her baby brother, but he is

Damian’s clone, but that clone was nothing but a poor imitation of her brother. With a snap of her fingers, he transformed into a statue of a panther, mouth opening for a roar. In all accounts looking intimidating, but there’s no way to be scared of a statue.

"That was for killing my little brother." She crossed her arms now glaring daggers towards Talia.

"I wasn’t aware you had a little brother, Lady Cheng." Demon never called her Lady Cheng, no to him she was Malak (Angel), but…

That was when the pieces fell into place. That’s why the older Damian looks like a cross between Demon and Bruce. That’s why Damian turned into a panther cub. Damian is Amir’s reincarnation, the true soul of the black cat. That means, in front of her stood Ra’s, Amir’s older twin brother. That’s why he could read the journal, he is a miraculous soul. And only miraculous souls know the language of miracles, without decades of studying the script. It’s ingrained in them but only accessible after coming in contact with old magic, miraculous magic.

"One, the name is Wayne. Two that’s because at the time that I met the both of you 600 years ago, I didn’t even know I had siblings. So, get this through your head, I don’t care that he is your son or your grandson. He is my little brother. Nothing will stop me from making sure my family is safe." Her voice stayed level, emotion flitted in and out of it, in such a way that it almost seemed inhuman. For more reasons than one, she just sensed one of the Lazarus Pits.

"Scarlet." She heard gasped by the woman next to Ra’s.

"Correct." She glared at them walking closer as she said so. "My name is Marinette Wayne, and you best remember to never mess with creation. I would have thought you would remember that little Lǎohǔ (Tiger)."

By her walk over a sword had appeared in each hand, which she was now holding up to Lǎohǔ‘s neck, while the second was held right at the base of Talia's spine, almost daring her to move. The threat hung in the air, and both knew she was capable of following through.

"Well, I do believe it’s best to catch up over some tea." Lǎohǔ offered, many would have taken his offer. Because if the Demon’s head offers it, it would be your funeral if you refused, but she wasn’t just anyone. "After all we haven’t seen each other, in nearly 600 years, now have we, much must’ve happened to you."

"Hmmm... not really you’d be surprised. By what has become of my life been since meeting you." She decided to put away her blades, for the time being. Seeing as she couldn’t leave without destroying the Pits. The only surviving consequence of the Miraculous wish, cast ages ago. Now time to come up with a plan.

---

"Are you sure about this Pigtails?" Plagg spoke up.

"Ancient magic like this calls for a price." She sighed.

"We know, Marinette, but your little brother." Tikki voiced.

"I'll do everything I can to keep all of them safe." She spoke resolutely.

"But can you live with this?" Tikki asked.

"I have to be able to. Besides I'm pretty sure he is your true kitten, Plagg." She reassured.

Tikki and Plagg united their powers, and were able to destroy the pit, and every other one on Earth. Then disappeared. She opened a gate knowing what is coming.

---

Somewhere in the league of Assassins was the Demon's head and his daughter, looking royally pissed as they watch a timer tick down. Seeing as Marinette decided to freeze them with venom, so she could destroy the Lazarus Pits.

~~~~~~~~~~

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#mbdbwm2021 #maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #bio!dad bruce #bio!dad bruce wayne #who was I alluding to again?#time to find out #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #mdcu marinette #mdcu damian wayne #mdcu ras al ghul #mdcu talia al ghul #oc twin!ra’s

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shotofire · 3 years

Text

Impulse

LEVI ACKERMAN x F!READER

Overview: In which you have trouble respecting Captain Levi, and he shows you whos in charge

Warnings: cursing, filthy smut, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, choking, degrading, angst, toxic relations, biting, oral, creampie

Season: Not specified

Most would jump off a cliff before they even thought about talking back to the Captain Levi. Then there was you, the girl who sure had a mouth on them. At first you treated the Captain with respect and followed orders, but then he became too pushy. You’d never liked when others barked orders at you, or told you to do one thing after another. It was common sense that things were done more sufficiently if you take your time and not rush. Captain Levi wanted things done quickly, no questions asked.

Personally, you didn’t like the guy. One could not deny that he was extremely attractive, and when you had first saw him he’d sparked your interest. Then he decided to open his mouth and it ruined the entire fantasy you had playing out.

He expected way too much out of his squad sometimes, and you really wished Erwin hadn’t assigned you to him. You were incredibly skilled but lacked discipline and could be lazy at times. There was a reason he’d put you with Levi, but you had yet to realize it.

To you Levi was a ego driven asshole who thought he was better because of his rank. He always had your squad out late running laps, and cleaning whatever he wanted you to. Purification of whatever he found unfit had to be your least favorite thing in the world. You’d been raised on a farm and constantly had to clean, then you joined the scouts thinking it’d be all action. Then your Captain has you shoveling horse shit several times a week, and for what exactly? You had no clue. There was no way this was benefitting to your skills at all, it’s not like you had to clean titan shit.

The worst part was that Levi would only make you clean it all by yourself. The rest of your squad got the luxury of sweeping, dusting, or mopping. Then there was you trying not to throw up every five minutes while the smell of shit and piss is filling your head. It was hell and you about had enough. You’d kept your mouth shut at that point telling yourself over and over to be the bigger person. You had reached a breaking point when a horse nearly kicked you in the face, you had to get off of Levi’s squad.

That day you stomped to Commander Erwins office full set of getting assigned to a new squad. Erwin had a weird soft spot for you, mainly because he knows your tragic past. He tried his best not to let it show, favoritism wasn’t something he liked to reveal. Harsh knocks echo through the mans office and he flinched, “You may come in.” There you are bursting through the door out of breath and cheeks flaming red.

The sight was somewhat scary, but only because you looked like you were about to rip someone’s head off. The first thing you saw, that only added to the anger, was Captain Levi himself sitting across from Erwin. Why the hell does he have to be here? You thought as your hands balled into firsts.

Everyone knew you had a temper problem. That was another reason Erwin saw you fit for Levi’s squad. Levi didn’t like people who couldn’t control themselves, so he wanted to put you in your place. So far all he’s done is increase your irritability and make you want to punch him in the face. “I want to be on another squad, I can’t take anymore of Captain Levi,” you stare ahead at Erwin, not even acknowledging Levi. The raven-haired man look at you with narrowed eyes and a scowl, someone really needed to put you in your place.

“Coming into my quarters without stating your name or business will get you nowhere, neither will that tone,” Erwin said, he couldn’t believe the way you were acting. You huffed at his words, patience wearing thin. “To hell with my tone!” Levi and Erwin’s eyes widen and their mouths fall open.

Not once has a cadet talked or acted in this manner of disrespect, you had some nerve. Levi was infront of you in almost an instant, backing you up against the door as his breath fanned over your face. “You need to learn how to respect your Captain and your Commander, or i’ll have you sent to the military police. Stop acting as if you’re entitled to be treated like a princess when all you are is a brat,” he spits in your face.

It took everything in you to not knee the man in his groin. You look away from him to Erwin, seeing his armed crosses at his chest. All of you knew your actions just now we’re not justified and you shouldn’t be talking to your superiors that way. But what Levi was doing right now was completely degrading. The Commander wasn’t big on Levi’s approach, but he let him follow through. He was your Captain after all, he treated you how he saw fit. You grabbed the knob that was pushing into your back and opened the door, causing Levi to stumble back a bit. “I hate men,” you mumbled before slamming the door.

A few cadets stood outside the room with wide eyes and jaws ajar. They had heard the whole thing, some wondered how you were still alive. “What the fuck do you want?” You yelled with gritted teeth. They didn’t say a word, only scattered away. If you could talk to the superiors like that and not get your ass kicked there was no telling what you were capable of deep down.

Levi and the Erwin looked at one another with shocked expressions. “She needs to be put in her place,” Levi grunts. No cadet had pushed his buttons like you have. Erwin held the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger, eyes pressed shut. “She’s a lot like the way you used to be, you know. You gave me a hard time, I guess she’s your karma,” Erwin said somewhat amused. Levi didn’t find anything funny, not even in the slightest.

It had been a few weeks since the incident and Levi hadn’t let you catch a break. If anything things got worse, and you were doing more shit back to back. He went as far as to make you do dishes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a straight two weeks. Your attitude had gotten worse as well and insulting the Captain to his face had become a regular occurrence. “(y/n), I want you to clean the stables and then strip all the cadets beds. The sheets need cleaning,” he said to you with a smirk on his face. Your squad stood in a side by side line as he gave you each a chore. Everyone’s was simple and would only take maybe an hour, but yours would cost the rest of the day. “You’re such a prick,” you said with an enraged tone.

Some of your squad gasps while the others had already grown used to it. Levi wasn’t going to stop until you did, it was stubbornness against stubbornness. Even if you did insult him and yell profanities in his face you’d still do as he said. He got such joy out of ordering you around. “And you’re such a brat,” he said back with an amused smile. Before you could think your hand was starting to swing through the air, your squads face watched in horror. He grabbed your wrist right before it made contact with his face, his eyes never left yours. That was kind of hot, you thought and automatically wanted to slap yourself.

His hand remained on your wrist and his grip tightened, causing you to whimper in pain. “Go to what i’ve asked of you cadets,” he says with that same shit eating grin on his face. They all run away with startled expressions. “Let me go,” you tried to rip away your hand but it was no use. “After you’re done with your tasks come to my quarters, no matter how late it is. Also take a shower before you get anywhere near me, you smell like shit.” You scoffed at his words, “Eat fucking shit, Levi.” Calling him by his name really pissed him off, you hadn’t call him Captain since the Erwin office visit. He let go of your wrist finally and walked off, leaving you vision blurred with anger.

Your fellow cadets didn’t say a word as your sweaty form stripped their beds. The smell coming off of you was gag worthy, but they didn’t dare provoke you. If you could talk to Levi in that manner there was no telling what you’d do to them.

One wrong look and you’d knock their teeth out, no questions asked. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t half-ass clean those stables. But the afternoon was coming in and you still had to clean and hang everyone’s sheets. That would take longer than anything, and you’d probably miss out on lunch and dinner. You sat out in the sun pushing one smelly sheet into the bucket of soap and water after another. The boys bed linen almost made you throw up a few times. Did they ever bath?

After soaking them they were hung up to dry, and with the beaming sun hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. You thought about the whole reason you’d basically became a maid, Captain Levi. The man had his mind set on making your life a living hell, and you returned the favor. The threat to send you back to the military police didn’t scare you one bit, it wasn’t going to happen. You were more skilled at killing titans than anyone else on your squad, and almost all the others. Loosing you would be a great loss for the scouts, and you knew it. Some thought, if it came down to it, you could totally kick Levi’s ass. He had heard that one day and it only exasperated the man further. His ego was bigger than a mountain and that chipped the top off of it.

As the sheets dried you were able to attend lunch, but just barely. Most had already finished and were doing combat training. You managed to stuff down a few pieces of bread to keep you moving for the rest of the day. When you returned back to you duties over half of them had dried and you jumped up and down with joy.

You celebrated too fast, and Levi was coming towards you quickly. The sight made you want to vanish in thin air, what could he possibly want now? “I took a look at the stables, you didn’t even clean half of it.” Of course he went and checked. “I’ll finish it,” you grumbled. He was shocked that he didn’t get a smart response, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now.

The rest of the sheets dried and you returned them to each bed. You had never felt like such a maid before, having to make beds for grown adults. Knowing you had to finish cleaning the stables almost brought you to the edge of tears. All you wanted was to lay in your bed and sleep, to relax the pain filling out your lower back. Pure stench filled your senses as you entered the stables, each horse eyeing you. To be honest these horses scared you, their beady judgemental eyes reminded you of Levi. Thinking about that made you snort out loud, your next insult was definitely going to be telling him he looked like a damn horse.

The sun had set by the time you’d finished, and you wouldn’t be surprised if most had already gone to sleep. Thoughts of your bed made you crack a smile before letting out a deep yawn. You headed straight for the showers, stripping yourself of your sticky clothing. As the satisfaction of hot water ran over your body you sighed and closed your eyes. It was a great feeling that you truly needed.

The happiness was short lived as you remembered that Levi wanted you in his office once you were finished. You wanted to scream at the thought, why the hell does he want to see you? The man can’t stand you so why would he spend his after hours to talk to you? There was no point if he was just going to insult you, but you had no choice.

After getting dressed and somwhat drying your hair, you drag your feet to Levi’s office. You stare at the door for a few seconds, contemplating just going to bed. That would ensure a even more hell filled day tomorrow, so you went ahead and knocked on the door. This shouldn’t last long anyways, right? He’s gonna throw a few insults and you’re gonna leave, easy as that. “Come in,” his deep voice says. You open the door, shut it behind you, and start walking up to his desk. He didn’t expect you to state your name or salute him, so he wasn’t too fazed. You sit down in the wooden chair on the other side of his desk, eyes laced with annoyance. He takes in your state, you looked completely beat.

“Do you know why you’re here (y/n)?” He questioned, his fingers interlocked as they sat upon his desk. The man was trying to be all serious but you weren’t in anyway intimidated. “Nope, but i’d appreciate it if you’d hurry up. See I just did all your dumb chores for you and i’m fucking tired.” The Captain presses his lips in a straight line. He stands up from his seat, moving to your side of the desk and sitting on the edge of it.

He’s close to you now, frame above yours. You look up at him, feeling small under his gaze. “That right there, the unnecessary attitude. I’m tired of you thinking you’re better than everyone, when i’m reality you’re just an entitled brat.” So he’d called you here to argue? You didn’t care how tired you were, this man wasn’t going to walk all over you.

You stand up, eye to eye with him, and growl in his face. “I’m the one who thinks i’m entitled? You order everyone around like some King, Well guess what your highass, no one likes you! You’re just some higher rank motherfucker who thinks their life is more valuable than anyone else. When will you face reality and see we’re not different!” You yell in his face, not holding back at all. Your faces were so closer, barely touching.

The air fell silent at your words and he looked into your eyes. Maybe what he was about to do was pure impulse and should be thought over. But he’s already slamming his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss before he can really think it over. He was baffled when your lips moved with his, tongues already slipping against one another. You couldn’t believe you were kissing him right now, but you couldn’t find it within you to stop.

In one swift move Levi had your back pressed on his desk as he hovered over you, the kiss only intensifying. His fingers pressed at your sides and you let out lights moans onto his lips, only boosting his ego. When his lips moved to your neck you realized what was happening, “What the hell.” Levi heard you mumble and only chuckled. His lips bite and suck at your nape and you can’t hold back the sounds coming from your lips. “I fucking hate you,” you said through clenched teeth.

It was aggravating that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop, you didn’t even want him to. His pillow lips felt like heaven against your skin and you already felt your core start to dampen. After those words pass your lips hes pressing his hand to your neck, stopping any air from making its way in. “Hate me all you want, but I know you’re dying for me to fuck you right now. I bet you’d even beg me,” he said with a smirk. His hand stays wrapped around your neck as his other hand pulls your shorts down your legs. “See, you’re already wet.” He eyes the visible mark on your underwear with a devilish smile.

He lets go of your neck and you immediately start coughing, he was for sure insane. Before you could collect yourself he was biting the inside of your thigh, causing you to yelp. He sucked harshly at the delicate skin and you wince away from his touch. He’s fast to grab your thighs with a firm grip, and you’re unable to move away. You gasp as he licks a long stripe on your still covered core. “So sensitive,” he coos.

You’d die before you admitted it, but Levi looked so incredibly sexy right now. His eyes were sparkling with lust and his lips were a light shade of red from the kissing. His fingers loops on the sides of your underwear and he yanks them off. You watch as he bites his lower lip, eyeing your wet pussy. Before you can even think, his lips are attaching to where you needed him the most.

A long high pitched moan slips past your lips and you’re positive someone had to have heard you. His mouth works against you and you’re a complete mess. You fall onto your back and raise your hips, but his arms are fast to push you back onto the surface. His left hand leaves your waist, and soon he’s plunging two fingers into your hole. “Holy fuck!” You yell in complete ecstasy, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You feel your high approaching as his fingers and mouth continue to work. “Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you say with tears forming in your eyes. He smiles at your words, feeling accomplished. His lips wrap around your bundle of nerves and it send you over the edge. Your legs shake as he sends you through your orgasm.

Before you could even collect yourself he was ripping your shirt over your head, and then his own. He nearly breaks your bra trying to get it off, and you snort at him. You sit up so he doesn’t have to struggle, “I still hate you.” He ignores your words and flips your body over so that you’re facing away from him. The sound of his pants being pulled down makes your stomach drop, shit. You were really about to have sex with this asshole. He enters you without any warning and you let out your loudest moan yet. The man doesn’t bother giving you time to adjust as his hips start moving at a ungodly speed. Your nails dig into the desk at the feeling. Levi was much bigger than you anticipated, definitely the biggest you had ever been with.

The sound of skin slapping together fills the air, mixed with your constant moans. His hand comes down to smack you ass, making red handprints in your skin. The stinging sensation brought you pleasure, and he noticed. His hand cracked down harder and you yelled out in pain and pleasure. “Fuck, if I would’ve know you were such a slut I would’ve already fucked you,” he says breathlessly. He grabs that hair at your scalp, pulling you back into his chest. He fucks up into you harder and you can’t think straight. His fingers stay tangled in your hair as his lips attack your neck, leaving small purple marks on your skin.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he whispers in your ear, “Tell me you love my cock.” The filthy words made you shiver even though your body was on fire. You didn’t answer, mustering up words as fucked you ruthlessly was nearly impossible. He lets go of your scalp, making you fall forward. He grabs ahold of your waist and pushes himself into you deeper, making your mouth fall open. “Tell me, now,” he says before pulling back and shoving himself deeply again. “I love your cock,” you say with tear filled eyes. He smirks in gratification and somehow manages to move his hips even faster. Soon your legs are shaking once again as you reach your second orgasm.

Levi pulls out of you harshly and you’re left limp on his desk. Arms wrap around your frail body and carry you into his bedrooom that was connected to his office. The feeling of the soft bed makes you sigh, it was a lot better than your own. He’s already back between your legs, and you finally get to take in his toned body.

You sit up to run your fingers up and down his stomach, feeling him flinch under your touch. His breath hitches when you keep moving down, fingering wrapping around his still hard dick. You pump your wrist a few times and his eyes shut at the feeling. You guide him back to your aching hole, wanting more. As he enters you, you throw your head back.

He starts moving, hips hitting yours harshly. His elbows sit on either side of your head as he fucks you into the mattress. Foreheads press against one another and his eyes stare into yours. The sight was new to you, his eyes were sparkling differently than in the beginning. You’d never seen this side of Levi, he actually looked loving. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly. Your stomach flipped at his words, it was the first nice thing he’d said to you. To be honest, you didn’t even know he was capable of being nice. Yet he’d just let a compliment slip past his lips.

You legs wrapped around his waist, helping him go deeper. The feeling of your third orgasm approaching had you seeing double. Levi pressed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss as you moan through your high, and he comes undone inside of you. The room is filled with heavy breathing as you two try to compose yourself.

Levi is the first to say something, “I’m sorry.” You sit up quickly and look at him confused. “I ordered you around like a dog and it wasn’t right. You just have so much pride,” his eyes look at the ceiling, “I wish I could be like that.” You smile softly, he was just damaged more than you knew. “I’m sorry for shit talking you in front of everyone,” you say and can’t help but let out a light laugh.

He smiles and closes his eyes, “you’re still a brat.”

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the-queen-of-hell-666 · 3 years

Text

Why Did It Have To Be Him

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Words: 2000+

Summary: The Reader had a one-night stand with Bucky. Then a year later when she comes back he’s engaged to her mother.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (protected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, biting, hair pulling kink, light dom/sub vibes), reader is 23 and Bucky is 43, (they’re both consenting adults!)

a/n: 18+!!! SMUT!!! NO MINORS!!!! I really don’t like writing DD/LG. It’s one of my biggest no’s, because I can’t get in that mindset. So the Reader is going to be Domming quite a bit. Bucky might have control for a few minutes but she is going to be in control most of the time. I also will be adding more fics as a continuation so watch out for that. I hope you enjoy this fic!!!

You were home from college for the summer, so you got a job at the local dive bar in your hometown. You hated having to stay with your mother. Even though you’re an adult she wouldn’t give you the privacy you needed. So you got a job to be able to rent your own flat, but you were leaving to go back to college in two weeks. So it didn’t really matter.

It was a normal night at the bar, most of your regulars sat around the bar chatting it up and laughing. You passed out mugs of ale and different themed shots when someone walked through the door. You turned and saw one of the hottest men you have ever laid eyes on. He was easily twenty years older than you, but damn if he didn’t make you want to climb him like a tree.

He wore a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. His dark hair looked fluffy and soft as it sat upon his head. His blue eyes scanned the bar until they landed on you. He smirked and walked up to the bar and took a seat on a stool.

You watched him walk up and rolled your eyes at his strut. Here we go, you thought as you set a mug on the drying rack.

“Hey, sweets.” He smirked, “Can I get a finger of whiskey?” You turned away not fazed by his smooth attitude, and grabbed a glass and filled it with whiskey.

“Here you go,” You said, and slid the glass to him. You were called to a table and went over to collect some empty glasses. You brought them back to the bar and set them in the sink for Steve, the dishwasher, to clean. You watched some guys leave and you went over to collect your tips.

“Hey, sweets. Can I get another?” The guy from the bar asked, and you came back and filled up another glass of whiskey for him. You leaned on the bar as he finished the whiskey in one gulp.

“So, what’s your name?” You asked, and he smirked a bit and chuckled.

“You flirting with me, sweets?”

“No. I’m just wondering what to tell the paramedics when you get blackout drunk.” You shrugged and poured him another finger of whiskey.

“Well, for that reason. I’m Bucky.” He greeted and held out his hand. You shook it.

“I’m Y/n/n,” You greeted, and grabbed two shot glasses. You poured two vodka shots and slid one to him. “To…” You trailed off holding up your glass.

“To getting blackout drunk.” Bucky finished, and you smiled and you both downed the shots.

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So you don’t remember how it happened, but it was probably around the eighth shot when you and Bucky decided to order an Uber and head back to his place. You left the bar for Natasha to take over, she had just got there when you left.

As soon as you were in his flat, your lips collided with his in a hot dirty kiss. He pressed you up against the door and picked you up by the backs of your thighs. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist. He kissed down your jaw and down your throat sucking hickeys all over your throat, marking you up.

He carried you to his bedroom and set you down at the foot of the bed. He pulled back and stripped his leather jacket, white shirt, and shoes off. You kicked off your heels and started unbuttoning your blouse to reveal your lacy bra. You ran your hands up his pecs and cupped his face before pulling him into another makeout session.

You spun him around and pushed him down. He sat on the edge of the bed and you straddled him and went back to kissing him. He gripped your ass as you gripped his hair. You yanked his head back and he growled as you started sucking and biting on his jaw and neck. You left dark hickeys on his skin as you moved down his body. You climbed off of him and stripped off your skirt and he yanked you back onto his lap. He skillfully unhooked your bra and threw it somewhere in the room.

“God damn, sweets. You look good enough to eat.” He groaned, and you smirked and ran your hands down his chest.

“Could say the same about you, baby.” You purred and nipped along his collar bone. He growled and latched onto one of your breasts and nipped on your nipple, while his hand fondled your other nipple.

You arched into his touch as you gripped his hair. You grounded your panty-covered core against his hard-on. He pulled back from your chest and picked you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He tossed you onto the middle of the bed and quickly stripped his pants off, so it left him just in boxers. He climbed on top of you and kissed you passionately.

He ripped your panties off and quickly stripped out of his boxers, without breaking the kiss. You rolled you two over so you were on top. You marveled at the sight of his large length for a minute before he caught your lips in another kiss.

“Condom?” You asked, against his lips.

“Bedside table, top drawer.” He mumbled, and you broke the kiss to reach over and pulled a condom out of the drawer. You ripped the foil package open and rolled it down his length. You lined him up with your dripping pussy and he kissed you as you sank down on his cock. You moaned in his mouth at the feeling of his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never been stretched before. You rolled your hips in an experimental thrust and both of you moaned.

You gripped his shoulders and started riding him hard and slow. So he could feel as your walls pulsed and squeezed around his cock. He was a moaning mess under you and to be honest it made you even hornier. To have this beast of a man at your will to use how you like. Man, you got so hot and bothered at the thought. You kissed him and felt him groaned into your mouth when you squeezed him.

“You look so beautiful under me, baby boy.” You praised against his lips, you felt him whine against your lips and you smirked. You moaned when his cock hit your sweet spot and you threw your head back. He caught one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked and nipped. He bucked his hips up to meet your thrusts, his hands gripped your ass as you ran your fingers through his hair. You gripped his fluffy hair tight and yanked his head back to nip and suck on his neck.

“Oh, god, sweets,” He grunted, as you rode him faster. The head of his cock kept hitting her sweet spot and she hit her high. She cried out his name and rode out her orgasm. He thrusted up into her to help her through her high. Your walls throbbed and twitched around him as he prolonged your orgasm. You slumped against him letting him fuck up into you as he reached his high. Once you regained your mindset you started riding him again.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me. I want to feel you cum.” You purred into his ear, as you clenched around his cock. He cried out your name as he came in the condom. You helped him ride out his high with slow and soft strokes. He bit into your neck to muffle his yell, he lapped over the new mark on your neck. He pulled away from your neck and captured your lips in another kiss.

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The next morning you woke up cuddled in the duvet of Bucky’s bed. You opened your eyes and looked around at the light-filled room. Your eyes squinted as they adjusted to the light. You smelled bacon and coffee so you stood up, only to realized you were completely naked. You found his boxers from last night and shrugged and put them on, then you put on his white t-shirt.

You padded out of the room and down the hall of his flat. You saw Bucky stark naked in the kitchen he was only wearing an apron, while he cooked. He heard you come out and turned his head.

“Hey! Good morning!” He said cheerfully, and you smiled at his enthusiasm. You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his bare waist.

“Someone is in a good mood.” You stated, and pulled back to pour yourself a cup of coffee. You took a sip as you admired his ass while he cooked. He finished cooking and set a plate of bacon and eggs on the counter. “I was expecting to wake with a note that says; “I’ll see you around. Call me.”, then your phone number under it. But if I do call you’ll never answer.” You shrugged, as you took a bite of bacon.

“Nah, I’m a gentleman. So I wanted to make you breakfast.” He said, and took a sip of his coffee. You two ate in a comfortable silence, until your loud ringtone sounded through the flat. “What is that?”

“Oh, my phone!” You exclaimed and tried to pinpoint the location of your phone. You saw it on the phone and you picked it up and saw your mother was calling you. You answered it and immediately she started yelling at you. Asking where you were, why didn’t you answer her calls, that you were supposed to be home for your going away party. Shit! You’re going away party. “Okay, okay. Mom, I’ll be home in an hour I swear.” You said into the phone, and that seemed to settle her. She hung up after you said your goodbyes. You looked at Bucky with an apologetic smile on your face. “I’m sorry. My mom needs me home.” You said, and his eyes widened.

“Wait, you’re legal right?” He asked quickly, and you nodded.

“Yes, of course. I’m just home from college for the summer.” You stated, and he sighed in relief.

“So you have to go?” He questioned a little disappointed, you nodded.

“Sorry, Bucky. But if I don’t my mother is going to find me and drag me home.” You explained, and he chuckled and walked over to you. He leaned down and gave you a passionate kiss, to which you returned. You quickly changed and collected your things and order yourself an Uber. When it arrived you looked back at Bucky as you opened the door. “I’ll see you around, baby.” You winked, as you walked out.

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The next summer when you were off of school, your mother told you that she had a new boyfriend. No, correction, Finance. His name was James Barnes and she wouldn’t shut up about him, but you never got a photo of him. So when you were due home for the summer, she made sure to have a family dinner set up.

It was around lunchtime when you came home. It was the middle of the day on a Monday so only your mother was home. She greeted you and hugged you and showed you up to the guest room since she turned your childhood room into an office for James.

You spent most of the day outside lounging by your outdoor pool. You were wearing a triangle black bathing suit. You were reading a random book off your mother’s bookshelf because you were just bored.

The sun was starting to go down when you went inside. You closed your book and walked inside.

“Hey, mom. When is dinner going to be-” You trailed off when you saw your mother kissing a tall man. She pulled away when she heard you come in. They both turned to you and you saw that the man was Bucky. Your one-night stand from last summer. The guy that filled your dreams when you touched yourself at night or use one of your vibrators. The best fuck of your life, and he was sucking face with your mother.

“Oh, hi honey. This is my fiance James.” Your mother said, gesturing to him.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” Bucky smiled, and you let out a sigh. Why did it have to be him?

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Taglist:

@randomuser0971 @honeyel @deadpoolgirl23 @rainydaystyless @capmanranger

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fandom #soft!bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut #smut

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

A Discowing at the Wayne Gala

Summary: Getting Jason to go to the Wayne Gala each year was more difficult than putting the Joker away in Arkham; he insisted the part was full of pretentious, rich social climbers who were horribly boring. As it turned out, all he really needed to persuade him was an upset, drunk girl rambling about how much she was going to deck her highschool enemies there to convince himself that he’d be in for a great show. (AKA the extremely chaotic and nonsensical salt/crack fic)

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“I, Mar--” she hiccupped, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng solemnly swear to rip Lila a new one with Discowing’s godawful costume.”

“You say it girl!” called some random person from across the bar.

“I will--” another hiccup “--use Batman’s Batmobile to run over Kim. And slam Red Hood’s ugly ass helmet onto Adrien’s stupid face.”

“Better yet,” Marinette pounded the table, “I will use their stupid utility belts to dismantle Gabriel’s empire. Somebody give me a yeah!”

“Yeah!”

All in all, the sight wasn’t that atypical for a bar in Gotham, if it weren’t for the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was barely five feet, wore pigtails, and knocked five men on their asses when they tried to approach her.

“Take that, Hawkass,” she hissed. “Think you can pull a fast one on me when I’m drunk, do you? Well I’ve got news for you!”

Her words slurred together, and she leaned on the bar for support. “When I get my way, you’re going to be tied up into a pretzel and dumped into a volcano, then the tundra and then we’ll see how you like your stupid little jewlery touched.”

“Dupain-Cheng,” her blonde companion hissed. “Get yourself together. We don’t need another one of your breakdowns now. You know we’re going to be busy tomorrow night, and I don’t want to deal with you completely hung over all throughout the gala.”

“Aww,” Marinette squished her cheek onto Chloe’s “You know you love me.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit. If you want to make good on your plans, you need to be in tip top shape.”

“Ughhhh, why are they even invited to the stupid gala? It’s not even like they’re rich! Oh wait, I guess they are…” Marinette pressed her face to the bar, which was undoubtedly dirty. She reveled in it’s coolness, brushing her bangs out of her face. “And why do you have to be right? I guess I have to stop drinking if I want to make any of my plans work.”

“Your plans will work, hungover or not. It’s just a question of how much you’ll be able to enjoy them. I don’t want you complaining for months after the fact that you don’t remember half of what happened.”

“I guess you’re right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I'm feeling a little too warm to ice them out.” Staggering, Marinette got to her feet. “Call an Uber?”

“It’s already here.”

“What made you change your mind?” Tim frowned at Jason, doubtful that he wasn’t going to cop out at the last second. He was sure that he was only putting on his suit as some sort of deliberate ploy to get out of the Gala. Truthfully, it wasn’t required that all of them attend the Gala, but it was one of the few events that brought together most of the Wayne family.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and smirked. “Let’s just say I’m expecting quite the show.”

Jason kept a hawkish gaze on the entrance, waiting for the appearance of one short, pigtailed girl, and a taller blonde. They arrived almost forty five minutes into the Gala, which was good timing; not late enough to be considered rude, but most people have already arrived and have made their rounds.

Marinette looked different out of the dim lighting of the bar, and even though she definitely looks like she’s nursing a light hangover, she still managed to look stunning. With a matte-black floor length dress that attracted all light in the vicinity towards it, it’s hard not to look her way; Tim, for one, stared at the outfits that Marinette and her companion are wearing with stars in his eyes. Any moment now, he’s going to approach them. Or he would if he weren’t on Jason-sitting duty.

“I’ll play nice,” Jason promised.

“You? Nice?” Tim sounded incredulous, and it’s not like he can fault him. Whenever Jason did successfully get roped into coming to the Gala, it’s a sure thing that he gets at least one fist fight started, if not an everyone for themselves sort of situation.

“They’re the reason I decided to come. It’s not me you have to be worried about.”

Tim groaned. “Really? They’re trouble makers? But they’re wearing MDC!”

Jason chuckled, slipping a hand into his pants pocket. Tim was weirdly obsessed with the highly secretive French designer. Nobody ever saw them in person. “Wearing your fashion icon doesn’t mean they can’t kick ass.”

Tim rocked back on his heels, looking at the two girls calculatively. “That’s right. If anything, they’re more likely to kick ass, because that’s the kind of confidence that MDC inspires in their designs. Well, if you’re not going to fight them, I’m going to introduce myself.”

“And I can’t leave my little brother alone.” Jason said, watching the blonde girl point in the direction of, if he wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel Agreste’s son and his plus one.

Who knew that doing a preliminary reading of the guests would be so informative? He could only guess what kind of beef Marinette had with Agreste Jr.--Bruce had enough problems with Gabriel; even though Wayne Enterprises only dabbled in fashion, Gabriel was a ruthless man when it came to his competitors, and tried to edge them out of the market multiple times. Foolish on his part, not taking into consideration that both Bruce and Tim were very, very stubborn people who only get more difficult to face when dealing with a challenge.

Wayne Enterprise might primarily be considered with R&D and technology companies, but underestimating the amount of influence Tim could gather when someone pissed him off was just a bad idea.

“Hi, I’m Tim--”

“--and it’s lovely to meet you, but we’re on a mission right now,” finished the blonde girl, who Jason was now 98% sure is Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’ mayor and Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois. “Dupain-Cheng, it’s your time to shine.”

“God,” Marinette muttered underneath her breath, ducking her head. “I can’t believe you’re holding me to what I said while drunk last night.”

“It’s not just what you said drunk last night, it’s the most effective way of dealing with that liar. She’ll be so embarrassed she’ll hide away forever. Maybe get some plastic surgery and change her name. Daddy will make sure she can never step foot in Paris again.”

“Chloe,” Marinette groaned. “We all know how that panned out last time. Do you want a repeat performance?”

“By that time Hawkmoth will already be taken down. No need to worry about evil butterflies.”

“Evil butterflies?” Tim frowned.

“We can fill you in later, Marinette has a car to steal.”

“Chloe!”

“Oh stuff it, Dupain-Cheng, you’re no goody two shoes, even though you pretend to be one.”

Marinette whispers into Chloe’s ear, eyeing Jason and Tim. “Do you have to discuss that with other people around?”

“Well,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You boys aren’t going to rat us out, are you? They’re part of the infamous Wayne family. They’ll definitely be in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know they already reached out-- I can’t risk--” Marinette kept cutting herself off. “Fine, but if you-know-what falls through, I’m putting it all on you.”

“Like they’re going to pass you up just because of what’s going to go down at this gala. If anything, they’ll be glad to know that you’re as vicious as you are creative,” Chloe checked her nails and touched her hair, making sure it was in place.

“Sorry, what? I’m a little bit lost.”

“Keep up, Drake. I’m beginning to doubt your title as child-genius.You have the unique opportunity to watch history in the making.”

“Wait,” Tim’s jaw almost dropped at the display in front of him. “How did you even--”

“Trade secret. Marinette doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But that’s the Batmobile.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jason laughed. He stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile, Marinette stole the whole thing. What a sight.

Here’s how the rest of the night went: Chloe plied Marinette with copious amounts of water, trying to get rid of her headache. Marinette hopped into the driver’s seat of the Batmobile (to which Chloe cackled, “And she doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet,” and Tim paled to the shade of freshly fired ceramic plate.) They ran over Kim, who, somehow managed to get into the event as a server of sorts, at which point Tim swore that the background checks would have to be upped again. Marinette landed the Batmobile in the middle of the gala, barely managing to avoid several innocents who were in her path. She reached into the convenient storage compartment that Jason was previously unaware of and pulled out the Discowing outfit and his helmet-- seriously, how did she get those?-- and slammed the car door.

Security, of course, was waiting for them. How couldn’t they, with that big of a disturbance? Half of the guests were up in a tizzy-- mostly the ones who were experiencing their first Wayne Gala-- and the other half were looking on, amused. Tim waved the guards off as Marinette made her way to Lila and Adrien, like a vengeful Valkyrie.

“You,” Marinette grimaced. “Chloe, say the words, I forgot them.”

“We decided that words were useless, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Marinette said, before promptly slamming Red Hood’s helmet onto Adrien’s head hard enough for him to fall to the ground, likely concussed. Lila, who started screeching and running away made for a surprisingly difficult target. Well, difficult in the fact that she was using other people as shields, but once she came across a group of Experienced Wayne Gala Goers, she got pushed out of her comfort zone.

In eight inch heels and with her hair down, Marinette stalked towards her prey.

“Lila Rossi,” Marinette intoned. “Your sins will be judged.”

“What are you going to do, Marinette? You have no power here. We’re in America now. No Ladybug to back you up. No public opinion in your favor.”

Marinette shuddered. “Ugh, your voice makes me want to vomit. In any case, I sentence you to life in Discowing’s costume.”

“You can’t make me wear anything!”

Famous last words, Lila.

“I’m still so confused. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe gave Tim a pat on the back. “You’ll get used to this kind of thing if you end up hanging around Marinette more often.”

“I think I’m in love,” said Jason.

“Get in the back of the line. The only thing Marinette has time for now are her plans to take down Hawkmoth.”

“I’m not opposed to joining you. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Jason paused. “By the way, has she already stolen the utility belts to take down Gabriel or does she need more? I’ve got contacts.”

"Fair warning, everything in Paris is at least twenty times crazier than what you’ve seen here today.” Chloe swiped through a few notifications on her phone. “And please, do you think someone who hotwired the Batmobile needs your help getting her hands on a couple utility belts? If she really put her mind to it, she could get the Lasso of Truth from Wonder Woman.”

“Yeah, Jason, I’m definitely not going to join you on that trip.” Tim turned his attention towards Marinette, who was currently passed out on the hotel couch. “Anyways, You two are wearing MDC, right? I have a meeting with them tomorrow!”

Chloe looked at the poor boy with pity. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

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i’m really churning out these jasonette prompts like butter (god butter is so freaking good you ever eat butter straight? i do. heart attack city & the next paula dean) even tho i only thought about joining in right when july was ending but here we are

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wandas-sunshine · 3 years

Text

Strike Three

Summary: Everybody makes mistakes. Your first mistake was telling your family that you were seeing someone when you were just as single as ever. Your second mistake was asking Pietro to fake a relationship to keep your family off your back. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a mistake.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3,826

You didn’t have the best track record with relationships, you knew that. Even if you didn’t know, your family would have made damn sure to inform you. You knew they only fussed so much because they loved you, because they wanted the best for you. But they were such a headache sometimes.

You were going bonkers now. Your mother was becoming overbearing with her insistence that you needed to hurry up and settle down, and your sister was positive that she could handle the whole thing for you. She herself was engaged, so your mom agreed that she probably knew how to steer you back down the proper path.

And maybe it was the exhaustion of hearing them try to arrange a good relationship for you, or maybe the panic of listening to your sister talk about her new coworker (who was a very impressive man, don’t you know?), but for some reason, you went and said something so painfully stupid.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

That was nearly a month ago, and your entire family was pestering you for more information. You felt bad avoiding their calls, but you were bluffing and you had barely gotten out of that conversation alive. Your sister was bringing her fiance to Christmas, so of course that meant you were expected to bring someone as well.

Avoiding conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend was growing difficult. You’d been holding out hope that you would find someone by the time the holidays rolled around, but no luck. A real boyfriend would have been ideal, but your frantic attempts at finding someone to play the part also yielded no success.

You had of course contemplated faking a breakup, but that would only further their idea that you couldn’t handle your own love life. You had dug a hole that you just couldn’t climb out of.

So with one week to your family’s Christmas gathering, you were sitting on your best friend’s bed with your head in your hands.

“I am so royally screwed, Wanda. Stevie is going to force me to go out with some accountant or one of Adam’s firefighter friends, and my mom’s gonna make me marry him. Then what?” You wailed. She laughed, finally looking up from her phone.

“Who’s dating an accountant?” Pietro’s voice made your complaints die on your tongue. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. With him standing there having heard about your pathetic predicament, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that coursed through your veins.

“(Y/N) apparently. If they don’t find a date to Christmas with their family.” Wanda answered him. You groaned again. “They told everyone that they have a boyfriend, and now they have nobody to show.”

“I’ll do it.” He offered so nonchalantly that it took a second to process. Then you’d sat up so fast that you got dizzy.

“For real? You’ll do it?” You clasped your hands together in a silent plea, and Pietro shrugged.

“Why not. Text me the details,” He left you shouting your appreciation after him as he made his way back to his own bedroom.

A week passed by, and you had confirmed your plus one. You kept the information you shared minimal, just giving his name and saying that you hadn’t wanted to say anything until you were sure he’d be able to come. You were nervous about the whole thing, a whole list of things that could go wrong playing on an endless loop in your head as you tapped against your steering wheel.

A few moments passed before he finally came out with his suitcase in hand. Three nights at your parents home with your sister, and your friend who you’d somehow coerced into pretending to date you seemed like a nightmare. But Pietro’s presence was calming. He sat his bag in the back and settled into the passenger seat. He had the brightest smile on his face.

He buckled in and sorted out the music as you started on the drive back to your childhood home. The quiet between the two of you lasted a while before he broke it.

“So what’s our story, cupcake?” He smirked and turned the music down, looking over as you spared him a confused glance.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, you know. How we met, how we got together. The story we’re gonna tell our kids one day.” Your stomach flipped. What were you getting yourself into?

“Um, I guess we met through Wanda,” You started, keeping your eyes on the road and gripping the steering wheel tightly so you didn’t have to focus on how strange the whole conversation felt.

“And I saved you from some drunk creep at a party,” He started. “I took you to iHop-”

“And we’ve been together ever since!” You finished with a laugh. It was mostly true, everything he mentioned had happened, just not exactly like that. It made you feel a little better knowing that you weren’t lying to your family, just...rearranging the truth.

“See, baby, we’re gonna be just fine,” The sound of the pet name flustered you much more than you were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Okay. But if we’re gonna make it, there’s gotta be rules.” You warned him. He motioned for you to go on. “Rule number 1; No saying I Love You. Rule Number 2; No kissing. Not under any circumstances. And Rule Number 3; No catching feelings.”

“Easy peasy,” He chuckled. He didn’t understand why you were so paranoid. There was no way he was going to let them set you up with one of their awful picks for you. No, you deserved better than that. So he’d follow your rules, and he’d save the day if it killed him.

The rest of the drive consisted of him playing music, and the two of you joking around like nothing was any different than it had been from the beginning. But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart stuttered when he’d jokingly call you by those stupid affectionate names, or the way your cheeks burned under his attention. The tension and worry lingered, thinly veiled by his stupid knock knock hokes and classic rock.

It was mid afternoon by the time you pulled into your parents driveway. You were helping Pietro unload the boatload of presents you’d brought along for your family when your older sister came racing out of the house. She squealed and bundled you up into a tight hug like you hadn’t seen each other in years.

“You brought a boy,” She noted as she stepped back, hugging herself against the cold. You bit your lip and nodded a little.

“Stevie, this is Pietro. Pietro, my big sister Stevie.” You stepped back and glanced at Pietro. He had the most dazzling smile on his lips, one that made your stomach flutter. And Stevie certainly seemed charmed enough.

“So you really do have a boyfriend. I was beginning to think he was fake,” She teased. You and Pietro shared a look and he seemed to be barely stifling his laughter. You glared, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut. “They barely told us anything about you. I can see why they were keeping you a secret, if I didn’t have Adam I’d be stealing you away.”

“Well, good thing we’re here for a couple of days. You guys can get to know everything about each other. But can we pretty please get this stuff inside before it gets nasty out here?” You begged, readjusting the armful of gifts you’d grabbed. Pietro huffed and took them easily.

“I can get them, don’t worry.” He insisted. You hesitated a little but he was already following your sister inside. So you grabbed your bag from the back and closed the car up to join them inside.

Once you walked in, you were met by the smell of baked goods wafting out the door. You kicked your shoes off and set your bag down by the stairs. Your family had already stolen your boyfriend- fake boyfriend- by the time you slipped into the kitchen.

“Your favorite kid just got home, but all you care about is the new boyfriend, huh?” You teased, sliding up to hug your dad, then your mom. Pietro sort of liked the way it sounded when you said that. Boyfriend. He knew he wasn’t really the boyfriend, but it was a nice thought.

“You didn’t tell us he was so handsome,” Your mom chided, giving your shoulders a squeeze. Your face flared hot and you glanced at Pietro.

“Don’t worry about me. Your family is great, they’re already trying to feed me.” He smirked. Truthfully he seemed oddly comfortable in the role, but you were glad he wasn’t freaking out. Of course for the sake of not having to date someone with a stick up their ass. But the fact that he was giving you his usual laid-back grin didn’t hurt.

“Why don’t you two go up to your room and get settled in. Dinner will be done soon. (Y/N), your old room is all set up for you two.” Your mom cooed, turning back to the food she was working on. You glanced towards the stairs.

“He’s sleeping in my room? With me?” You asked, glancing between faces. You were used to sharing a room with your sister on the holidays and whatever guys you brought along were usually put into her old room. You supposed that changed now that she was properly engaged.

“Well duh. Adam’s sleeping in my room when he gets here.” Stevie answered. You gave a tiny nod. Made sense. You grabbed your bags and nodded for Pietro to follow you upstairs. He gave a smile to your family and let you lead the way to your bedroom.

Once the door was shut, you groaned and leaned back against it. Once again you were asking yourself the same question. Just what had you gotten yourself into. The idea of pretending to be in love with Pietro was one thing. But now you’d be sleeping in the same probably too-small bed for three nights. That must have been crossing some sort of line. You could sleep on the floor. It was hardwood but you were pretty sure you’d survive it. Or maybe you could take turns.

“Piet, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think they’d put us in here together.” You sighed. Pietro was too busy perusing your room to really think too much of it. There were still a few pictures decorating the back of the door of you and your family and friends. A couple band posters were left up, and there was a stack of books in the corner. “But now that Stevie and Adam are actually engaged...I’m sorry.”

“Chill, it’s no big deal.” He sat at the edge of your bed and you nodded. It was nice seeing him settle so easily into a space that used to be strictly yours. You supposed it wasn’t so bad to share it with him.

The evening passed much faster than you had expected. The worst part was dinner. Your future brother-in-law had shown up which helped to ease some of the tension. But nevertheless your family was all over Pietro. He reached over and gave your hand a squeeze as you sat down, and you knew he’d never let you down.

Throughout the meal, he complimented your mom’s cooking. He talked about his classes, and about being on the track and field team at his college. Within minutes he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

The most startling part was just the way he talked about you. The way he’d just look at you for so long that it would make your throat go dry, or the way he’d beam when asked about the two of you.

“I just knew when I first saw them that no one else could compare. I love them,” He’d said. And he’d looked at you like he never wanted to look away. Your stomach did somersaults and you’d focused on the mashed potatoes you were poking at.

Strike one.

Once dinner had come to a close, you and your sister worked at clearing the table. Your mom ushered the boys towards the living room to relax while the three of you worked on cleanup. You carried an armful of dishes into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter and drawing up some dish water, but not before flashing Pietro an apologetic smile. He just winked and slipped away.

You stared into the sink, watching the suds as they foamed up. Maybe asking Pietro along was a bad idea. Your dad was becoming pretty buddy-buddy with him, and your mother seemed to adore him already. Your fake breakup was probably going to be harder for them than it was for you.

“So,” Stevie set a last stack of dishes on the counter and smirked. “Pietro is really something, huh?”

You chewed on your lip, giving your full attention to the dishes you were scrubbing clean.

“He’s sweet. And he seems pretty in love with you,” Your mom added. And just like that your heart was leaping back into your throat. Who knew Pietro Maximoff was such a good actor? And who knew you cared so much?

“Yeah, he’s pretty great isn’t he?” You smiled, a sick sort of despair clogging in your chest. “Too good to be true,”

With the three of you working together, the cleaning went by in a jiffy. Soon enough you were settling in the living room with the others. You sat on the couch beside Pietro as they all continued their discussion.

You tried not to tense up as he pulled you closer by your waist without so much as a glance. You slowly relaxed and snuggled even closer. Your head rested against his chest like it was meant to be there, and your arm found its way around him. He was warm, that was all, and he smelled nice...You were selling it, nothing more. Just selling it, even as his fingers moved to play with your hair.

“It’s getting late. You four had a long day, we should all get some rest.” Your dad decided. And with the way you were half asleep in Pietro’s arms, you couldn’t argue.

He carefully maneuvered you off of him so he could stand up. You weren’t sure when the two of you had started holding hands, but yours was clutched firmly in his, fingers intertwined as he pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon baby, you’re sleepy.” He mumbled. You nodded and said your goodnights to everyone before letting him lead you up the stairs. You slipped into your room and dug through your bag for your sleep clothes. Once you’d pulled them out you glanced up at Pietro. He chuckled and turned his back.

Once the both of you had changed, you laid yourself down, watching and waiting for Pietro to join you. The silence as he climbed into the bed was heavy, both of you deep in your thoughts and being exceptionally careful not to cross any lines or take up too much space. You were hyper aware of every breath you took, and of every miniscule brush of skin.

You did not have feelings for him. Sure he was handsome, and considerate. Not to mention how funny he was, and the way he fit in with your family better than anyone else you’d brought home. But it was cliche. He was your best friend’s brother. He was Pietro for fucks sake. Falling for him just wasn’t in the cards.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or moving a muscle all night, but you woke up in a mess of tangled limbs. He’d slung his arm around your waist and nestled into your chest, and you had flipped your leg over his. He was warm, and you could feel his breath tickling against your neck. That alone had your heart rate flying through the roof.

You were careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed. He shifted and you froze until you were sure he’d fallen back into his deep slumber. You took a moment, just admiring him all sweet and conked out, his hair a mess and a tiny bit of drool slipping past his lips. Gross. But adorable.

You got ready for the rest of the day and slipped downstairs to find your mom and sister back in the kitchen working on a breakfast spread. You leaned against the door. You could hear Adam and your dad chatting from the living room.

“Want a hand?” You asked. Your mom smiled at you.

“We didn’t want to bother you guys. Where’s the other lovebird?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was too late to hide your smile.

“Still sleeping. I thought I’d let him catch a little extra shut eye.” You explained, moving to help set the table while they cooked. Nobody said much after that, just talking about all of the family gossip you’d missed out on while you were away.

Meanwhile, your mind was drifting to all the ways you could make this up to Pietro. You didn’t have the opportunity to think much on it as he came down the stairs.

He was still tired, you could tell. But his hair was wet from a shower, and he’d changed into a charmingly ugly sweater that clashed with his usual vibes. It was endearing, you couldn’t deny that. He moved to stand by you, arm wrapping around your waist and his hand landing on your hip.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” You teased. He laughed quietly, but then he pouted.

“You left me.” You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“You just looked so peaceful. Plus I wasn’t ready to deal with you yet.” You dodged away from him as he tried to grab at you, giggling and stealing away into the kitchen again to grab the platter of pancakes. Your mom and Stevie shared a knowing look that you disregarded.

Breakfast, much like dinner, had gone without a hitch. The two of you bantered the way you always did. He stole a bite from your plate, and you took a drink from his cup in retaliation. As he finished eating, his hand found yours. You gave him a puzzled look, and he simply slotted his fingers in between yours.

The conversation lasted until everyone was finished. Then everyone was ushered to the living room for the gift opening. You and Pietro were still hand in hand when your mom stopped you in your tracks. You were about to question why when Pietro guided you to face him by your hips. Your hands pressed against his - rather firm - chest.

“Mistletoe,” He whispered. Your eyes flicked up, then back to his.You were suddenly very warm. You had rules, and this was seriously not fair. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Both of you were fairly willing to call that good. Stevie, however, was most certainly not.

“That’s pathetic. Give him a real one. It’s Christmas, (Y/N)!” She argued. You looked at her, then back only to find that he hadn’t looked away from you.

“Yeah, baby. It’s Christmas.” He half-teased, hoping to ease some of the building tension. You thought on it, considering shattering what was left of your rule into pieces. But before your flustered mind could come to any sort of decision, you were being kissed.

You curled your hands into the front of his sweater, and melted against his lips. They were softer than you’d expected, and the kiss was much less demanding than you had thought it would be. When you pulled away, he brushed his thumb over your jaw.

“Sorry,” He whispered. You shook your head, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. The urge to feel his lips against yours was a little too strong, and who knew what you’d do if he kept looking at you like that. You pressed your lips together like you could forget his taste.

“Don’t be.”

Strike two.

The gift exchange was exceptionally uneventful after the mistletoe ordeal. Your mind was still wading through the fog when your mom opened the last of the gifts. You were all about to sort everything out and pack your gifts with your things when Pietro spoke.

“Oh, I almost forgot something. Stay put.” He carefully freed himself from where you’d been leaning against him and headed for the stairs. You sat patiently, sharing curious looks around the room. You hadn’t talked about presents.

He only took a moment, coming back with a small box wrapped neatly in pale blue paper. You figured that was Wanda’s doing.

“Here. I don’t know if you’ll like it but…” He passed you the gift, and you smiled at him. You stared at the little box for a long moment before you finally took off the paper. You didn’t notice all the attention shifting to the two of you as you took the lid off.

“Oh my god, Pietro,” You gasped, your hand moving to cover your mouth. Inside was a stunning silver bracelet with several little charms on it. You carefully picked it up and worried each charm between your fingertips. “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t need to. Look, this one is for that iHop trip, remember? And this one is for the when Wanda introduced us at the beach. And this one is for the butterfly exhibit you made me take you to. Oh, and this is for this trip, see?” He rambled. Tears pricked at your eyes and you giggled. You were in so deep, and the bracelet must have cost him a fortune.

“Put it on me?” You looked up at him and he nodded. There was a pause as he took the bracelet from you and fastened it around your wrist. You admired it with a lovesick grin.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke firmly, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too, Piet.” You slid your hand into his and he looked down at how nicely your hand fit into his. Like you were meant to be.

“I don’t want this to end,” He locked eyes with you again, praying that you really understood what he meant. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to build up the confidence to confess all over again if you didn’t. But he didn’t need to worry about that. You lifted your hand to cup his cheek.

“Then I’m yours forever, Maximoff.”

Strike three.

And there was so much to talk about, but in that moment none of it mattered. Not when the pretending was finally over, and you were having the best Christmas of your entire life.

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