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goatchulu · 3 years

Text

jealous! lucifer x gender neutral! reader

Genre: fluff, ig? slight smut in the end.

Fandom: obey me!

Prompt: you find yourself in a fake relationship, and now you're introducing your "boyfriend" to the demom brothers. they don't take it so well, especially lucifer.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of harassment and stalking, they make out in the end, reader's gender is unmentioned for your imagination (and inclusion).

lucifer takes another swig of his whisky, a slight burning sensation lingering on his throat. no matter the amount of alcohol he consumed that night, he couldn't escape the bitter feeling that was left inside his chest.

the two of you have been hitting it off pretty well for the past few weeks, if he could say so himself. the harmless complimenting and the subtle glancing had turned into ardent flirting and shows of affection overtime. you two were finally going somewhere with your mutual pinning, or so he thought.

lucifer didn't think his small (not so small) crush on you would lead anywhere, really. nor did he think you would reciprocate his infatuation. but with all the friendly interactions you had of late, anyone would assume you two were together in a romantic light.

now look, lucifer prides himself as a person. he was assertive, efficient, productive, level-headed and the voice of reason when stress is most prominent. but as a lover? lucifer wasn't so sure. he assumed you'd like someone more jolly and eccentric like mammon or someone more confident and charismatic like asmodeus. he didn't expect for you to even spare him a second glance when it came to the dating game. lucifer was a busy man after all, and he wasn't the most expressive when it came to emotions; not very ideal for a lover.

but what lucifer also did not expect was for you to bring home a common demon boy and introduce him as your significant other.

let's just say that all the built up tension and courting were all ruined by a single dinner party.

you had gathered all the demon brothers earlier that morning, claiming you had an important announcement to make. you went as far as inviting diavolo and his loyal butler, barbatos, to spend the evening over for dinner. they thanked you for the invitation, but they unfortunately, could not attend because of their hectic schedules.

lucifer, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept your invitation (though he was quick to cover up the smile he held when you came up to him). seeing as he already lives under the same roof as you, anways. his happiness would soon be diminished and grinded into dirty, pathetic, dust, though.

lucifer's eyes narrow as mammon's loud laughter bounces off the walls of the dining room. lucienne, your "boyfriend", had managed to crack the demon up with one of his silly stories about a strange elderly wizard that sold expensive medication made out of fairy wings that turned out to just be bedazzled dragon fly wings. he worked wonders with the avatar of greed, considering the fact that just a moment ago, mammon was cursing in jealousy and resentment as you sat with your newly introduced boyfriend.

luficer would've told mammon to shut up, but he feared saying something far more vulgar out of anger. the previous tension was already eased into a more domesticated athmosphere (credits to lucienne's charm and humor), lucifer didn't want to ruin dinner for his brothers, and especially not for you.

i mean, lucifer felt betrayed, he felt used and-- and played. how could you lead him on like this? but deep inside, he knew there was something else. he felt disappointed, he felt defeated, he felt crushed, he wished he'd done something sooner before this lucienne stole you away from him.

but anyways, back to the dinner party.

"you seem unusually quiet, lucy." asmo teases from across lucifer's seat. the phrase seems to capture everyone's attention, all eyes now on the grimacing and glaring lucifer.

"asmo's right, you haven't uttered a word since lucienne arrived, lucifer. is something wrong?" you chime in, causing lucifer to perk up. the thought of you worrying about his state sent sparks into his heart, but they were quick to disappear when lucienne asks him the same question.

"i'm fine." he replies to your concern, unable to hide the venom that strung on to his words. this only causes asmodeus to snicker, and leviathan to sink deeper into his seat. everyone else watches in concern as lucifer downs another glass of demom whiskey. you're about to ask him again, unsure about his reply, but he stops you before you could even form a word.

"i said i'm fine."

the air is tense, until eventually, mammon gasps out of nowhere. "don't tell me! lucifer is jealous!!~" he repeats in a sing song manner, only irking lucifer even further. no one else speaks up, the whole situation akward enough.

after a while, though, lucienne speaks up. he gestures at mammon, especially. hoping to stop the demon from escalating the situation. "hey mammon, wanna hear about that one time i accidentally professed my love for my eight grade math teacher?" mammon only settles back into his seat, ready for another laughing fit. the avatar of pride snaps at this, slamming his fists down the table before abruptly excusing himself with a "i have something to do."

he spares you one last glance. his heart aching with guilt from the way you had lowered your head in shame. lucifer didn't want to make you feel like he owned you, or that you weren't allowed to be with someone else... he just, he has enough reason to justify his anger right now and he really wants to dwell in it. he turns his head away from you, biting his lip to contain the guilt and pain that was threatening to seep out. he doesn't turn to look back as he walks away from the dining room in long and rushed strides.

lucifer walks down the dark hallways of lamentation, familiar with every nook and cranny the mansion had. he sighs in relief as his palm reaches out for a familiar door. it creaks as lucifer walks into his room, sounding just as glum as lucifer is.

he heads straight to his paperwork, silently hoping that they would provide him some sort of comfort. he tries to focus on anything but the thought of you or your unavailability, his mind barely processing any of the words that were printed out in front of him. he groans, his hands pulling on his jet black hair in frustration.

i mean, he should've expected this. lucienne was everything lucifer thought you would love. funny outgoing, caring, expressive, charismatic, a smooth talker and he looked at you with utmost respect and admiration. i mean, who in their right mind would choose old-schooled lucifer over the flawless lucienne?

you deserve lucienne and although lucifer thinks that no one in the three realms could ever deserve to call you theirs, he still thinks that lucienne is more deserving of you than lucifer could ever be. what were you doing to the poor demon? he was never one to admit defeat like this, and he especially wasn't the type of person that'd lower themself like this.

his rollercoaster of thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. his ears already familiar with this particular knocking pattern. he can't help but straighten himself up, suddenly aware of the way his hair is all sprawled out. he slicks it down with saliva, muttering a small "enter" soon after he finshes checking on his appearance.

his mood lightens just a little bit at the sight of your face. as much as lucifer wants to hate you right now, he couldn't possibly feel that way towards you. never, not in a quadrillion light years.

you sit down in front of him, a genuine look of concern on your face. this makes lucifer visibly frown, catching you a bit off guard. "i wanted to talk to you about something, lucifer." his eyes grow curious and a bit hopeful, wishing it were about something that would distract him from the current situation or give him even the tiniest bit of closure.

"it's about lucienne." and once again, you manage to crush all his hope with only a few words. lucifer swears that if he hears that name one more time, he would personally shove your lovely boyfriend down the deepest depths of the underworld.

you watch his brows furrow and his fist tighten on his quill. lucifer looks far from happy to hear you talk about your significant other right now. "look, i know you'd rather not hear about lucienne again, but it's really really important and i want you to just hear me out. just this once, please?"

lucifer couldn't stand the pleading look you were giving him. your puppy eyes were a weapon that you used on him often, and they always managed to work. a tired sigh leaves his lips, if it meant getting it over with then he'd listen. "fine," he snaps, not before rubbing at his temple in obvious distress. he's said fine, but his body language told you otherwise.

"someone's kind of harassing lucienne at the moment. stalking him, giving him unwanted gifts and constantly professing their love for him when he's told them multiple times that it made him uncomfortable. they're an admirer of some sorts. i'm posing as lucienne's lover in hopes that they'd back off for a while, but i wanted to see if you and diavolo could do some actual help. it's worrisome, really. and it's been stressing lucienne out for the past couple of weeks. pretending to be his significant other is the most i can do for him, i hope you understand."

lucifer only freezes in shock, guilt washing over him all so suddenly. you call out for him, effectively snapping him out of his short daze. of course you'd offer to help lucienne out, you've always been a kind person. in lucifer's eyes, atleast. he coughs into his hand, avoiding eye contact with you as he degrades himself for his previous selfishness.

"of course, i'll do my best to make sure this harasser is punished. the school and i will ensure that lucienne won't be seeing this stalker anytime soon. just keep supporting him like this, i suppose. tell him he can sleep here for the night. thank you for informing me about this." you smile at lucifer's response, relief overwhelming your senses. if this meant that lucienne was finally going to be safe and unbothered, you were overjoyed.

you jump at lucifer, thanking him, all the while, squeezing the life out of him. his heart races impossibly fast at the gesture, and you can't help but smirk at the red that tainted his cheeks. "just so you know, i still like you. and only you, lucy."

his breath comes to a halt. he was no longer able to contain the butterflies that crowded his stomach; shock and well, pure bliss apparent on his face. "does this mean i can kiss you?"

"do anything as you please."

lucifer lunges at you. capturing your lips into a hungry and impatient kiss. his hands roam all over your torso, looking for anything he could hold onto. he settles for your waist and you drape your hands over his shoulders. heaven knows how long he's been waiting for this moment.

he manages to stumble through his room, leading you two to his bed. you part as he pushes you down to sit at the end of his king sized bed. he grins at the sight of you, disheveled and thirsty for more. the avatar of pride couldn't help but be excited for the faces you'll make in the unholy endeavors he's planning for you. he'll devour you, tear apart every innocent limb you have in your body. his imagination runs wild as he thinks of the many ways he'd mark you as his, exhibit you to the world and spread you wide open for his contenders to see. for them to know just how pathetic and needy lucifer could make you in an instant.

he bends down to kiss you again, pushing against your tounge with his own. he squeezes your thighs, digging his nails deep into the skin under the cloth still covering you. groans and grunts leave your lips as he countinues to caress your plush thighs.

as you two part, panting, a newfound possessiveness overtakes lucifer's eyes.

"you're mine."

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asmo-ds · 3 years

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If you're still doing hcs, how about the brothers (undatables too but only if you want) with an MC who's been more uncomfortable around the angels than the demons, even before the angelic demons event?

MC More Comfortable with Demons than Angels

Warnings: None (I think)

Summary: How the Obey Me! Characters would react to an MC who feels much more comfortable around demons and is extremely uncomfortable around the angels

- A bit offended tbh; I mean is he really less scary than an ANGEL

- But when he realizes this is something he can hold over Simeon’s head he is ecstatic

- Super smug about it whenever its brought up in front of the two angel exchange students

- “Oh? MC is quiet around you and barely talks, that's odd they talk a lot and tell me everything.”

- Is literally just the biggest asshole about it and its so funny to imagine omg

- Though if he notices that they are extremely uncomfortable around Simeon and Luke he will take action to ensure MC is comfortable and more demons are around them

- He is stunned, he has never met a human (who doesn’t practice magic) that prefers demons over angels

- Cocky about it and is constantly bragging to Luke and Simeon about how MC likes him so much better

- Thinks he is the coolest person ever in MC’s eyes

- If he notices MC is extremely uncomfortable he will immediately step in and take them away from the angles

- Is sure to stay close to them when they are around the angels

- not because he likes them.... just because... i-it’s his job!

- He is so relieved

- One of his biggest insecurities when talking to non-demons is the fact that he IS a demon

- So when MC looks to him for help whenever the angels are around he is so happy, he might literally cry about it

- If the Angels need to visit the HOL for any reason he will drag them to his room to hangout with him because the angels are least likely to bother him out of all his brothers

- Will blush if MC is so uncomfortable that they hide behind him/grab onto him

- Finds it intriguing

- MC is not a usual human and he really wants to know what made them this way

- Will ask questions and be disappointed but understanding if MC does not want to tell him yet

- holds their hand/puts an arm around their shoulders or waist if the angels come to close or are trying to converse with MC

- Very good at scaring both the angels away

- hides in the library a lot with MC if the angels are in the HOL

- SO CUTE!!!

- He loves how MC stays by his side whenever the angels come into view

- Teases them about it and tells them they must be naughty if they get along so well with the impure

- Asks MC why they like the demons more and will whine if MC doesn’t tell him

- Constantly holding onto MC at RAD in case they see an angel

- knows that the angels want to be closer with MC but he’s not gonna let that happen

- Feels a bit bad for the angels

- But if MC is uncomfortable it’s his duty to protect them, seeing as they have a pact

-Will block the angels from talking to MC by literally standing between the human and angels

- He only goes to Purgatory Hall to bake with Luke because he doesn’t want MC to be uncomfortable with him inviting the little angel over

- Asks what caused them to dislike angels and will respect their decision to tell him or not seeing as he has trauma with the Celestial realm that took him centuries to come to terms with,

- and the human is so young compared to him that he doubts whatever happened has settled down for them yet

- Doesn’t blame MC

- Makes fun of the angels behind MC’s back like the brat he is

- Growls at the angels if they try to talk to MC

- Is constantly clinging to MC as they wander the halls of RAD

- If either angel comes over to the HOL he drags MC to the attic for a nap

- and if it makes them uncomfortable that they are sleeping while angels are in the house he is sure to reassure them that they are safe with him and he wont let the angels near them

- Asks Lucifer if they should send the angels home

- When he realizes the problems that would cause he just opts to stalk MC when they are in school and require a brother to be with them at all times

- Threatens Simeon that if he or Luke go near MC he will personally see to it they can never speak again

- Friends with Simeon and sometimes has him come to the castle, and if MC is in the castle as well he has Barbatos hang out with them across the building so that he can meet with Simeon for important matters

- has canceled dinner plans with Simeon multiple times because MC decided to stay over

- Understanding about it and tries to steer MC clear of the angels

- Watches MC whenever the angels try and talk to them so that he knows whether or not he should step in

- If he notices one of the angels about to approach MC he steps in to tell them that Diavolo would like to meet with them on urgent matters

- Dia is always confused when the angels arrive but figures Barbatos must’ve had reason, so he goes along with it

- Asks MC what caused them to be so uncomfortable around angels while they are in a private and comfortable location

- overall v supportive 100/10 recommend having this man around to protect you

- Laughs because he thinks they are joking, surely he’s the only human that truly feels that way!

- but after observing the way that MC behaved around his roommates, he realized they were not lying

- Finally feels understood in his comfort being around demons and will gladly avoid the angels with MC

- Avoids inviting MC over no matter how badly he wants to

- if the angels are still approaching MC a significant amount he will confront them about it and tell them to stop it because they are making a human sad, which goes against angel ethics

- Understands and is super kind overall about it

- He notices MC’s apparent discomfort around him and Luke pretty much right away

- He thinks maybe they are just a shy and timid person so he continues to approach them and talk with them

- After a few weeks of this he realizes that the discomfort never improves and only seems to worsen and he begins to think he is the problem

- When someone tells him that MC is just a bit uncomfortable around angels his whole demeanor changes

- He opts to only talk to them when necessary or if they look like they genuinely need help

- sad that such a kind human could be so weary of his race, but knows that sometimes these things are out of everyone’s control

- :(

- He thinks that MC must think he is an annoying chihuahua just like everybody else does, so he is rude to them in response as it is how he copes with the loneliness sometimes

- When he realizes its because MC is uncomfortable around Angels, he is quick to try and change their mind about them

- He will constantly bother them to try and get them to loosen up

- But when it doesn’t seem to work he realizes that sometimes you just have to leave people alone and let them live their own way to make them happy

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qyllenhaal · 3 years

Text

Good Wives Club [2]

Lee Bodecker x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.2k.

Spin-off to American Pie

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Summary: It's been more than a year since she's escaped the ghost of her past but life is never fair to a girl like her. Lee doesn't care that she has a husband, a nice house, and sugary fake friends, he wants what's rightfully his.

Warnings (series): Cheating, smut, violence, housewife kink, period-typical misogyny, age gap (about a ten year difference), manipulation, dark themes all around.

A/N: If anyone wants to be added to future tag list just let me know!

Y/n woke up at 5am with a dry mouth and her head spinning. Her night has been plagued with restlessness and she couldn't stay still. When she did fall asleep, it was for small periods of time. Each time she woke up she was not aware of where she was for the first five seconds, panic almost setting in before she registered the sound of her husband snoring.

The end of her irregular sleep cycle ended because she saw the hallway light was on. She sighed when realized it must be time for her husband to get ready for work. She virtually got no sleep and she'll probably be tired for the rest of the day.

She gets up from their creaky bed and starts walking down the hallway. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the brightness as she slowly plods down the hallway. She follows the light to the bathroom where she can hear her husband getting ready for work. On the days he goes in this early Y/n is relieved that she doesn't have to get up and cook breakfast for him.

The door is cracked but she opens it to find him inside. She situates herself in the doorway, watching him shave his face through the mirror.

"Good morning," he spoke with a scratchy voice. Even though Y/n didn't marry Llewellyn for love, she's still attracted to him and likes his company most of the time. She feels an ache inside of her that wants him to take her, but after running into Lee last night she's afraid she won't be able to get Lee's face out of her mind while beneath her husband.

"Good morning. Going in early?"

"Yep. Dad wants to do inventory today since he put it off last week."

"Oh okay," she accepts quietly, ready to leave her husband alone so he can get ready in peace.

However he asks her a surprising question, "hey, did you enjoy last night?"

"Uh, it was fine I guess. Did you?" Her hope is that he at least enjoyed himself somewhat.

"You know I don't like that super fancy stuff like that, but I have to eat crow; it wasn't all that bad and Bodecker's not as bad as I thought. He's kind of a funny guy. I still think he's not as hard on crime like everyone claims he is, but personally, he's not that bad. Florence was nice too. She invited us to dinner on Wednesday night, apparently that's the only night Lee has off. I told her we'd be able to join them."

The turn of events was shocking. Y/n couldn't believe her ears and she thought maybe she indeed was still asleep. Lou was not fond of many people and his only "friends" were his two brothers so him warming up to Lee and Florence left her speechless. So speechless that she didn't register the fact that he accepted a dinner invite for them.

"What?"

"What do you mean ‘what’? You dragged me to that dinner last night and wanted me to be nice, and now you're confused when I do just that?"

"I-I'm not confused...just shocked," she admits truthfully, "I can't believe you want to go to someone’s house who isn't your mother house for dinner —are you sure you want to go?"

"We're going Y/n."

His tone of voice indicates that the conversation is done and over with and the decision has been made. Y/n didn't even get to contest his decision but Lou can tell when Y/n is in a defiant mood. Her folding her arms and walking away was confirmation for him. She stalks her way back to the bedroom where she takes to hiding under the covers.

Lee and Lou under the same roof — it makes her stomach churn just to think about it. They're wildly different from each other but the thing she hates about them is what they have in common.

All she can hope is that this nightmare ends and she wakes back up to a life without Lee's ghost lingering around.

She decided to go with a floral dress again. She really wanted to take out the checkerboard dress that made her legs look good and showed off her arms, but Lou would have made her change before she had the chance to step out of the house. The floral print is dizzying, but it's the kind of dress that Lou likes to see her wear.

It's just a small dinner at the Bodecker's house but Y/n opts for kitten heels instead of sensible flats. She feels obligated to look her best despite there being less people to dress for. She's never been alone with Florence save for that day at the grocery store. Florence is always dressed to the 10's and Y/n needs to look just as good, if not better. She claims to hate Lee, but it would be so satisfying if she caught Lee ogling her breasts.

"Are you ready?"

Y/n thought Lou was too dressed up for a home dinner of four. He wore a pinstriped suit and those nice leather shoes he bought himself around the holidays.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighs in an attempt to let off some steam.

It was a shorter drive than Y/n expected. Florence hadn't disclosed where she lived before, but Brewer Heights wasn't that for them to live at a distance. The sun was nearly dipped over the horizon and the remaining light that hits their house makes it look like a model home. Everything little aspect and detail Y/n was going to compare herself too. She lives in a nice house, but Florence lives in a nicer house. It tears her up knowing she has the ultimate upper hand over Florence in the form of her own husband and she can't even act upon it. She would royally fuck up her life and their lives too if she decide to let her jealousy get the best of her.

As she walks up their stairs as another man's wife, she accepts that she is jealous. She's always been jealous of Florence even when she didn't know her name. What made her so worthy of all of these things? Lee used to act like he hates the woman so she must be a bitch behind closed doors. It wouldn't be surprising if she is because most people in this town will smile in your face and then gossip about you a minute later.

Lou knocks on the door and only a second later Florence is opening the door with a big smile on her face and Lee right next to her. He wore his police uniform without the jacket while Florence looked like a Lilly Pulitzer catalog girl.

It only took one millisecond of their eyes locking together for Y/n to feel the electricity between her and Lee. She drags her eyes away from his, but she can bet that he has a smirk on her face. He always liked to see her squirm; in a good and bad way.

"Y/n, Llewellyn! I'm so glad you could make it! Why don't you come on in," Florence steps to the side, nudging Lee over with her, to make way for Y/n and her husband.

Her eyes scan over every inch of their house. It's warm, cozy, and oddly comforting. Everything little thing was in its place; perfectly dusted and polished. Y/n is sure that Lee had no hand in decorating this place, it screams Florence through and through.

"Dinner is almost ready. I started the scalloped potatoes a little too late, but it should be done soon! Y/n, do you want to help me set the table?"

Y/n didn't want to leave her husband alone with Lee, but she also didn't want to be in the room with just them. She nods at Florence and follows behind her to their kitchen.

The house smells like Lou's parent's house on holidays. Y/n's stomach rumbles and she doesn't realize how hungry she was. She despises herself for wanting Florence's cooking, but she barely ate today because of how nervous she was.

"I already laid out the place mates, you can place the plates and silverware."

Y/n picks up the expensive dining ware that Florence points towards. She wonders if Florence cooks like this all the time, even when Lee works well into the night.

The walls of their dining room have an awful floral pattern. Y/n is beginning to become sick at the sight of anything that pertains to flowers. The cedar table is perfect for accommodating guests and Y/n wonders how many dinner parties they had in this room. Florence seems to put a lot of stock into being a good hostess. Y/n herself has yet to throw a dinner party at her home, but setting the plates on someone else's dining room table feels like practice. She silently imagines her house filled with Lou's family as she cooks dinner for them.

Florence enters the room and starts placing the dishes in the middle of the table. Her presence takes Y/n out of her fantasy, and when she sees how Florence made a 3-course-meal she feels worse.

"Does the food look good? I tried some new recipes from Julia Child's cookbook to try to impress you and Llewellyn," she admits, "I wasn't sure what you two would like, but Lee loves when I make those recipes from Julia Child and I bet Llewellyn would love it too! I could lend you the book some time!"

"Of course. I love her work!" Y/n lies straight through her teeth. She has no clue who the hell Julia Child is.

Florence grabs one last thing before calling the husbands into the dining room. She places one beer on the coasters designated for Lee and Lou. Lou has never been much of a drinker, but she knows that Lee can knock down a few beers in one sitting. He might be on his best behavior tonight in front of his wife and company.

"Dinner's ready!" Florence called out.

Y/n took her seat on the right side of the table and Florence sat opposite of her. Their husbands come walking in laughing as if they were young boys sneaking back into the house during a family get together. Y/n doesn't like it; she doesn't like it at all. They look too cheery with each other and she knows that Lee is doing it on purpose — she can see it in his eyes when he quickly glances at her. He takes pride in making her uncomfortable. Y/n wishes she had that same affect on him to scare him off a bit, but no matter how chummy she gets with Florence, Lee looks unbothered.

Florence stands up from her seat as if she's presenting the food on the table to an audience. Everything is placed perfectly with the main dish being the middle of the smaller plates.

"This looks great honey, you made a whole feast," Lee walked up to Florence's side and kissed on the cheek. Y/n's eyes are trained on his hand snaking around her waist and giving her a light squeeze before letting go. When she pulls her eyes away from his hands, she sees that Florence almost looks shocked at her husband's affection; Lee is definitely putting on a show for Y/n and it's a damn good one.

Lee sits opposite of Lou and the first thing he does is open his beer. The food isn't even on plates anymore and he's drinking.

"I hope you like Schmidt's, Llewellyn. Lee loves it so it's all we have in the house."

"I'm not one to drink beer often, but I'll try it. And call me Lou, Florence."

Lou was acting out of his normal character. Him only interacting with his family and Y/n left him a bit awkward in the presence of others, but around Florence and Lee he seems to be much...warmer. If Lee was someone else then Y/n would be over the moon, but because it's him she can't even force herself to even look happy about it.

Y/n takes note of how Florence places portions of food on Lee's plate. They were small portions too. She was always strict about what he ate and how much he drank. She's surprised Florence is letting him drink tonight, but she must be trying to look nicer in front of guests.

Y/n was not as controlling as Florence. She always let Lou fix his plate to his liking. She thought it made her a good wife for letting her husband make his own decisions. But Y/n felt a tap on her shoulder after she finished making her own plate. He looked down at his empty plate before looking back at her and nodded towards the food.

"Y/n," he tries to whisper but his tone is rather harsh.

"What?" She whispers back in true confusion.

"My plate."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, as if it was a common occurrence for her to fix his plate. She starts to scramble to save herself from further embarrassment, the sound of silverware against plates so loud. She can feel the stares coming from the other side of the table but she doesn't dare look up.

Her skin began to grow hot. Her husband had embarrassed her in front of Lee and Florence. The worst part was when Florence tried to change the subject to something lighthearted to pull the attention off of Y/n. She felt small and useless. Lou never expected her to fix his plate, but he looked at her as if she was crazy for not doing so. She didn't want to spend dinner almost in tears. This changed behavior in her husband is giving her whiplash and making her dizzy.

"So, Y/n, did you enjoy the other night?"

"It was really nice Florence," she replies sheepishly.

"Susie and I put so much work into planning it. You should join us next time! We're going to start working on the fundraising events for Lee's next campaign-"

"Let's not talk about that tonight Florence," Lee interrupts. It was a moment that would've left Y/n embarrassed if she was in Florence's shoes but Florence was much better at masking her emotions. Only for a split second can Y/n see Florence flinch at his interjection before she just smiles.

"Sorry Lee, you know how excited I get about those things," she masks her apology in a cheery voice.

Dinner basically became a probe of Y/n and Lou's relationship. Florence wanted to know how they met, when they got married, how long they had been together, and what their future plans together were. Y/n let Lou answer the last question by herself because she genuinely didn't know what their future plans were. Lou usually wakes up and decides what major life change they're going to undertake, that's what happened when he decided to move to Brewer Heights.

When the topic of work came up, Y/n thought the coast was clear. Lou talked extensively about the work he does with his father and what his plan is for the next five years regarding the business.

"Once my father retires I'll have to hire someone to do his job. I didn’t go study in school after high school so I can't take over his position, even though it would make things easier."

"I'm sure you can find someone. I know it's rare for someone to leave the city and come to this little town, but Brewer Heights is always a nice incentive!"

"It is nice here," Lou agrees, "and it's quiet. We were in Meade before which is okay-"

"But, it's nothing like Brewer Heights," Florence interjects. "So, Y/n, what did you do before meeting Lou?"

Lee had not looked her way since the plate-fixing incident but his eyes were sure on her now. If his mouth wasn't stuffed with food he'd be grinning from ear to ear waiting for her answer. He knows she's not a good liar, but she's going to have to come up with something.

"I helped my mom with her business. She used to sell fruit preserves out of the house before she passed."

It wasn't a complete lie. She did help her mother label her jars, but that became less frequent when her hours picked up at Tecumseh. Her parents didn't know about her job either; she told them she was a waitress and it was a safe lie seeing as they didn't go out to diners.

"I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sure she was a lovely woman if she raised such a lovely daughter! Have you ever thought of continuing her business?"

"Not really. It was pretty small. I still make the preserves sometimes for Lou and I."

"If you wouldn't mind, would you be interested in making some for us one day? You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's just so hard to find any good fruit preserves around town." Florence's social habits were very transparent once you were around her for long; she tends to make it impossible for people to say no to her by making them feel bad about even possibly saying no.

"I'd love to Florence. I have fresh peaches at home and I can make peach preserves."

"Oh I'd love that so much," she fawns, "a jar for me and a jar for Lee! He loves his sweets."

"I'm not too big on peaches, Flo. You know I like cherries more."

"You always have," she leans into him and pats him on the chest before straightening up again.

The audacity of Lee is astounding, however not only is he a cop, he's the sheriff. It's such a cowardly move to pick at Y/n when she can't react, but what someone would call cowardly, he'd call fun. She looks like she wants to disappear from her spot and it scratches an itch for him. He missed seeing her get flustered and if he'd known that it would be much more enjoyable to taunt her while his wife was around, he would have found a reason a long time ago to bring her around.

And as if the night couldn't be more humiliating for her, Lou finished his plate before anyone else. He devoured the food on his plate, like a starved man. Y/n felt embarrassed when her husband went for seconds. He never eats this much at home, even when she makes his favorite meals. It makes her want to reach across the dinner table and smack Florence in the face. She hates her; she hates that she has to smile in her face and be friends with her. It's her own fault for continuing this "friendship" with Florence, but her rage makes her blind to her own faults.

She could ruin Florence's life with one sentence: "I've been fucking your husband for years." She'd cause a scene but it would be so gratifying.

Instead she just shuts her mouth and lets dinner continue without anymore incidents.

Y/n thought it would show she was grateful for dinner if she helped Florence with the dishes. She was glad to accept Y/n's help and the two spent their time in the kitchen while Lee and Lou sat on the back porch. With Lee's influence, Lou took another drink out back with him. Y/n wondered what they had to talk about, but she would truly not like to know.

"Your wife cooks like that every night, sheriff?"

"Enough with the title. And she cooks every night, but she went a little overboard since she was happy with having guests," he tells him. If it was anybody else, Lee would just answer the questions and not have any for himself. However, he really wants to know what Y/n has been up to since she's adopted this new image. "How about Y/n? Does she cook for you like that?"

"Not at all. She tries, but she's not the good of a cook," he brings the alcohol up to his lips before pulling away and sighing, "she tries but it's just not her best."

"Her mother didn't teach her how to cook?"

"I don't know much about her family. Her mother was dead when I met her and her father doesn't seem to be doing so well. They're from the same area as my folks but moved when they had Y/n. Maybe she was just too spoiled considering she's an only child."

Y/n's past was a mystery to Lee too, but he's surprised to learn she hasn't opened up to her husband. All he knows is that whether it was her home life or not, something had messed her up and it was almost made worse by her time at Tecumseh. He isn't sure how she made it out, but so much of her old life still bleeds through.

"You know I thought I was getting a good girl. One that would clean and have dinner ready when I get home," Lou continued.

Lee wanted to laugh in his face. Lou is proof that you can come from a smart family and still be dumb as rocks. How could he not know what type of girl Y/n was when he first laid eyes on her? She'd dress just like his sister Sandy; shorts that suffered from mistreatment over the years and a sleeveless blouse that was always stained. He's sure her hair was mussed up that day too. Many people would mistake her for a whore (which many people did see her as one even though she didn't outright sell her body to anyone).

"It can't be that bad," Lee tried to vouch for his former lover. Even he can name some good qualities about her; they just don't include any wifely qualities.

"It's not, but things could be better. Anytime I tell her to shape-up she gets this timid look on her face and flinches a little bit. I try to be nice and gentle but I'm losing my patience with her. I’m not looking to leave her, but what’s the point of marrying a woman who can’t do anything? She won’t even talk to me about having kids — was Florence ever like this?”

“No. Her family is from here so she’s been primed to be a housewife. But I will say it’s not all that fun havin’ a doting wife…she’s overbearing at times and I can never unwind with her around. She’s always on my ass about somethin’.”

Lee felt the need to vouch for Y/n. Anytime he would go to Tecumseh, she would accompany out back or get into his cruiser whenever he told her to. All the gritty things he dealt with at work, everything he kept inside, he dumped it on her. Florence would never sit there to listen to his grievances. Lee would never admit it, but he was vulnerable around Y/n, he knew that she would always be there to listen and he attached himself to that. In the beginning she wasn’t willingly listening to his problems but by the end she was. She took care of him when he was too drunk to go home, or she would let him take his stress and frustration out on her body. However, it doesn’t seem as if Lou is budging; his mind is made up.

“I work long hours. My father is putting more responsibilities on me. I put Y/n in that nice home, the least she could do is not serve me burnt food. Hangin’ around Florence and that Susie woman should have at least influenced her or something,” he continued to complain.

Florence was the last person that would be able to influence a girl like Y/n. Lee didn't know why his wife was seemingly grooming that girl. If anything it was just another person for her to control since Lee started telling her to knock it off. The only time she can get away with controlling her husband is if they're in the company of others where Lee has to be on his best behavior.

Y/n is not the type to be influenced by another woman. The only woman she held in high regard was her mother. Y/n listens to male authority. She listens to a man that will rough her up a little bit but then be sweet on her afterwards. She’s a little fucked up and jaded from her former “profession.” Lee knows this, but not Lou. He seems to know nothing of her past and Lee isn’t going to snitch on her.

“I can talk to Florence and see if she can do something. I know she likes taking people under her wing and shit. She seems to really like Y/n too.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that Lee. I know I sound like I’m hard on her, but I do love her. It’s hard for me to show when she just doesn’t put any effort in.”

"Don't worry. I'll talk to Florence — I'll make everything right."

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x oc #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x ofc #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker smut #the devil all the time #dark fic #fic #sebastian stan

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

Text

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon, profanity, abuse, anger issues, anxiety, arson, bullying, child neglect, child abuse, drugs, addiction, anorexia, guilt, pills, unprotected sex, stalking, trauma

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

IN CASE OF FIRE: PUSH ALARM - PART TWO

IN THE TRAILER

She ran away from him in the hallway.

He’d warned her of what would happen if she did.

Knowing it was a matter of when as the next day he was left waiting, grazing the halls of where she’d left him with a kicked ball-sack on the dirty school-floors, all lovesick and frenzied with fire ants raging over his skin and a manic promise that one way or the other he’d get her. Lying in suspenseful spiteful wait to tell everyone what type of slut the little spitball in class 3c General Studies really was.

But, timing was everything, and as the day went by without him spotting her he realized the opportunity to ruin her reputation in school wasn’t going to rear its head.

She was home…

Sick.

Or, that’s what she’d told the school. One quick question at the reception told him so.

She was home.

Home in that run-down trailer-park sorry-excuse for a home she despised, the one she cried about so often, the one with neighbours who didn’t give two shits worth a damn about who she was or that her mother was a crackhead-whore in no position to take care of her.

She was there instead of at school begging him to stop, begging for him to give her a second chance, begging him to kiss her, like she was supposed to do.

Standing outside her trailer, he wondered if whether her mom was home or not. He wondered if either one of her neighbours would care if they saw him break in, if it even was considered breaking in.

He spotted her mother slouched on a beach-chair beside some other trailer with a needle still stuck to her arm, ugly destroyed skin sizzling in the summer-heat, mouldy flip-flops sticking to her feet.

He cringed at the sight of it, but knew then that his pursuit would go on unprovoked, which at the very least brought him some sense of relief.

She’d gotten in through scholarship as she in no form or way could afford a school like UA. That much was clear, unlike how unclear the crystal-meth shards decorating the plastic salon-table placed on the outside of their van was.

She transferred half-way through the first year, all on the account of pure hard work.

He could respect that.

He did respect that. Given she was quirkless and all. It was the reason she’d caught his eye.

It all went sideways when she rejected his invitation to Homecoming.

He’d already gone miles away out of his comfort-zone, out of his element, talked himself into asking her out, only for her to turn him down.

Him.

Best student in Hero-course 1A at the time.

Rejected.

He knew it was petty of him to bully her because of it, but… she didn’t only make a fool out of him, she broke his fucking heart.

He could have listened to Kiri, and tried to forget about her through some other extra, but... he wanted her. He’d decided. She was his. And a quirkless trailer-rat like her was in no position to just say no.

In some sick sense he believed she deserved better. Him being better. But, he would like for her to ask for his help, instead of him just giving it to her. He would like to see her grovel, beg, just a little bit, or a lot. He wanted to see her regret her decision. He wanted to see her sorry. He wanted to see her want him as much as he wanted her. And he wanted it to be her who initiated it.

But… he could see that wasn’t happening. He could see that his unorthodox methods of courting her through continuously trying to bend her until she broke only consisted of her rewinding or snapping back like a rubber-band.

She was distracted, too busy being broken by what life had given her, too busy with juggling different shifts, bills, schoolwork, to be thinking about him and how he pushed her around a bit at school.

He eyed the cracked paint of the faded trailer with much the look of a snob on his face. Fingers brushing over the door-handle, testing how much noise it would make if he were to pick the lock, coming to a complete loss.

He could barely believe it… the door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside he was even more distraught to see there was no existing lock there to be locked in the first place.

Meanwhile her mother was too busy slowly dying to better protect her daughter from depraved humans who could come and do just about anything they wanted with her.

Meaning… just look at him.

Soft snores brought him back to where he was once he closed the door behind him. Making the short way to the source of the groggy sounds, feeling his stomach flutter at the thought of how wrong it was of him to be there, sneaking about like some love-obsessed sick stalker, getting turned on by hearing his prey sleep.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

And why didn’t he care enough to stop?

He stood at the foot of her bed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, head tilted to the side to view her sleeping frame.

Sleeping on top of the covers, not under.

He doubted it was because of the heat, the same way he doubted the mattress beneath was clean.

She was curled onto her side, knees bent and tucked up. Cute with that teddy-bear she used as a pillow, silly and stupid but cute because of it, especially in her uniform despite having left the tie and blazer off.

She was wearing her uniform.

Meaning... she’d either gone to bed with her clothes on and slept through the entire day, or she had planned on going to school this morning, but weaseled her way out like the weakly coward she was.

Well, in that case… what he was about to do would serve her right then...

Ought to teach her lesson.

He lifted his hand out of his pocket, producing a finger to poke her ankle softly, before stroking up a path alongside her socks, all four other digits joining in the stride before the fabric came to an end and his callous fingertips glided onto the doughy flesh of her leg, over the dome of her knee and onto her even softer thigh, coming to the edge of her skirt.

He always liked her in that skirt.

That’s where his mind was at as he started lifting to see what underwear she was wearing, yet never getting that far as something sharp dug into each side of his wrist.

Her nails weren’t of course any close to lethal, yet managed to surprise him as she whipped around to meet him, digging the talons into his roughened skin.

She might not have prioritized figuring out who it was that was currently touching her in her bed, but she had assessed the situation enough to know that someone was in fact in her house and touching her, something of which is not a good omen when you live where she lived, nor in any other situation for that matter.

He tried subduing the splash of struggles that followed her awakening by climbing and crawling some further up on the bed in order to control what myriad of flailing limbs came at him.

Soon, hands that had primly started clawing at him were safely locked in his much larger hands.

“Oi, relax! It’s just me!”

As if it being him would have any other effect than of rising her already racing heartbeats. Yet, even as her lungs heaved for as much air as her tight chest would allow her, he managed to capture her focus, her hands pinned to each side of her head whereas her feet were stopped amidst their kicking, crushed beneath the weight of the much stronger, much more encompassing mass and weight of Katsuki’s legs.

He hunched over her, back arching with his face a mere half-foot away from her own, the only thing supporting his upper-body being his arms, which were stretched out and grasping at her wrists, pushing them into her pillow.

Her eyes were large with craze-ridden fear as they locked with his recognizable carmine ones.

“Bakugo?”

Shocked and scared, with the creeping feeling of anticipation waving over her again, now all for different reasons then when she first understood there was an intruder in her caravan.

Somehow, it being Bakugo gave her an even starker unsettling eerie feeling than if it had been a total stranger. Maybe because oblivion is bliss and knowing what is to come makes the inevitable that much more inescapable.

Still, she demanded he tell her, even though she thought she might already know the answer.

“What are you doing? Why are you here!?”

“You weren’t at school.” He stated, spoken as though it preforming as explanation enough, though serving as far from it to the girl beneath him, the confusion shown in the way she scrunched her brows together.

He noticed, contemplating whether or not he should make his reasons known, but deciding against it and for playing with her for just a little while longer.

“I thought, since you managed to wiggle your way out of your punishment at school, I’d bring the punishment to you.”

He searched her features for any cracks in her composure, but though she looked beyond uncomfortable, she made no moves to push him off.

Her eyes squinted instead, narrowing at him.

“I’m not scared of you, Bakugo. I know you’re not gonna hurt me.”

Her body started twisting under him. The action far from vigorous, mainly meant to show her discomfort as she knew she wouldn’t go anywhere unless Katsuki decided she could.

And though the intention to her wiggling was not to evoke his arousal, it most certainly managed to do just that.

He inhaled sharply and she felt her body freeze up, seize at the feel of his hips making a shift to slot himself against her, grinding down onto her flattened and unmoving body.

“Hurt you?”

He let out a low rumble of a laugh, like building thunder.

“Who said anything about hurting you?”

Her breath strained as his eyes scrunched closed upon her jerking, his own teeth sinking into his bottom-lip to maintain the hiss on his tongue at the pull in his pants, his head descending to nuzzle against her chest, spiky hair poking at her chin.

Mouth breathing hot breaths onto her ear, causing her to whimper.

“Thought you just said you weren't scared?”

She swallowed thickly, improperly giving his rhetorical question an answer, feeling her wrists go numb under his hold and her blood running cold.

“Bakugo…?”

He didn’t answer and she felt herself go even more rigid at the absence of his voice.

It wasn’t often Katsuki didn’t speak back to her when she willingly spoke to him. In fact, it was never. But now, he was quiet, too quiet, making the frightening rugged sound of his heavy breathing overwhelm her ears, dulling her senses in the process before everything being sent into hyperdrive upon the feeling of his hand leaving her one wrist to cup her breast outside her shirt, giving the mound a careful and slow yet full squeeze.

She yelped at the sudden attack, her body jumping up against him, making yet another teasingly harsh contact with his clothed cock.

This time he hissed, both upon her delicious little struggles but also because her newly freed hand had actively made the decision to pull his hair as a desperate means of making him move.

It worked to some extent, at least in freeing her other hand which opened for the opportunity to drag herself out from beneath him.

Yet, the action was stopped in a series of rather clumsy fighting, where Bakugo managed to retract the upper-hand once again, pinning both her wrists with one hand whilst tugging loose his tie with the other.

He’d slotted himself between her legs now, her skirt spreading and hiking up her thighs as she struggled to stop him from tying her wrists together and fasting them to the handicap-bar mounted on the side of the bed, yet failing.

Her body free for him to touch now, to tamper and play with, and she felt her heart catch in her throat, small pleas coming erupting from the place because of it, but he didn’t seem to hear her, and if he did, he was electing to ignore the pitiful sounds.

His hands traveled down her sides, thumbs rubbing over the scratchy material, the fabric of her shirt stiff as a result of using dollar-store laundry detergent.

White shirt; made up of thin fabric to make the fight against the Tokyo-heat easier, yet resulting in it being so temptingly easy to make see-through with just a little spill of water. Water Katsuki was always so eager to pour, either with light teasing spritzes from his water-bottle or in carrying her over his shoulder into the showers and holding her there as the water rained down upon her, drenching both her and himself, then offering ever so mockingly if she would like to borrow a shirt, because unlike her he had a dorm-room with fresh and dry clothes, whereas she only had that one uniform and all other clothes made up of more holes than actual textile.

He chuckled at the memories as his fingers moved up-front and centre to tamper with the buttons.

“I bet you just hate this uniform, don’t yah?” His voice, although maintaining the snicker, was soft. Not loud and abrasive and rushed, but as though he was enjoying himself, thoroughly at that, drinking in the moment.

His movements too, were slow; careful.

Large warm hands stroking down the bare skin of her stomach, feeling the tremors as he did so, with eyes glued to those perfect mounds found beneath what looked like a well-worn sports-bra, making him wonder what she’d look like if he were to dress her up in expensive red lace. She’d be mouthwatering to look at either way, and breasts are just as soft whichever way they’re dressed… it’s not like the bra is staying on for too long anyway.

He swallowed thickly to stop his mouth from dripping.

He tucked her shirt out from her skirt, taking a moment to grip her midriff and squeeze to try and ease her struggling.

It only resulted in her thrashing even more, whirlwinds of panicked get-off-me’s and fuck-you’s and stop’s spilling from her mouth in rapids, but the plead seemed to repel off Bakugo’s ears like water off a ducks back where the desperation only aided in satiating his sick sadism, in the same fashion tears fell from her eyes aided in making his stomach churn or flutter with something he could only describe as bliss, her arms trying to the best of their efforts at tugging at her bonds, to no avail except for making the skin found their chaffed and sore.

He spent a few seconds deciding whether he wanted the skirt on or off as he felt up the fabric between his fingers, more memories flushing his mind with such sweet and potent nostalgia of him lifting up the short excuse for coverage in the school-halls every day to sneak a peak at her underwear, or those times he would bend her over classroom-desks and push his bulge where it would fit so snuggly against her ass.

“Kinda feels like this skirt gets shorter and shorter for each year...” He mused, stroking up the skin of her thighs, lifting the fabric in the process, revealing a pair of black cotton boxers which, despite being lackluster, forced a groan to rumble from his chest.

The fuck-you’s had turned to please’s and the change made a smirk curl onto his lips as he put his lips to the inside of her thigh before pulling away to look down at her, all spread open and quivering for him.

Breasts all perfect, squished together in the comfort of her bra, hair splayed on top of the pillow, her nose turning all red and adorable with her eyes brimming with both panic and tears.

Her skin felt so soft and untouched beneath his fingertips as he stroked up and down her thighs, pulling them towards him, as far as the bonds on her wrists would allow, slightly struggling with how much the panic had taken a hold of her, her legs kicking and flailing.

But he liked it that way.

Messy and desperate.

“Don’t be difficult, Quirkless, you’re not getting out of this.” He spoke so calmly, so collected and controlled and determined. As though he wasn’t doing anything wrong, as though this was his right. “This is the only thing you’re any good for anyways.”

He leveled with her clothed little sex, slung her legs over his shoulders, watched as she squirmed upon his breath, heard her whimper and plead with his name as he stuck his tongue into the fabric, her legs doing a little involuntary kick while her thighs where firmly secured in his hands.

“Worthless quirkless little pussy on legs.”

She sobbed as his fingers latched around the ribbon of her underwear, pulling, tearing the fabric, with no need to pull it down her legs, just a need to pull them off.

A content and knowing smile made its way onto his lips, yet she was unable to see it in her position, something of which she was thankful for, or… as thankful as one can be when being defiled by a friend.

Not that Bakugo was much of a friend anymore, but he had been, at some point before he'd offered more than one concerning opinion about quirkless people and their place in the world.

Of her place in the world.

He didn’t share her nostalgia though, not when the future was smiling at him with the face of her shaven warm pussy right in front of him.

“Did you get yourself all nice and ready for me? Huh? Knew I was coming?” He teased as she shook her head sporadically, unable to form any type of words in her overwhelming embarrassment and fear and panic.

He grinned smugly, despite knowing it was due to her spot on the swimming-team she kept herself clean and hairless, also knowing that the only reason she took swimming-lessons was because she and her mom couldn’t afford the hot-water bill, making her take showers at school instead, and that a spot on the swimming-team gave her a free-ticket to using those showers anytime she wanted.

How many times had he snuck in there to watch her soap up her body?

How many times had he palmed his erection to the sight of her?

How much he’d wanted to waltz in and take her against the cold tiles, make steam roll off the walls, hearing her voice echo his name...

Now he had the real deal though, no more time for fantasies.

She was smart, she was resourceful, but not enough to put a lock on her door.

She was lucky if one thought about it.

Lucky it wasn’t just any random guy who walked in and took her like Bakugo was going to take her.

Lucky it wasn’t just anyone’s tongue jutting out to lick up her spread folds.

Lucky it was Bakugo who was hugging her thighs close to him, using them as soft warm pillows as he nuzzled between them to lick and suck and bite at the little bundle of nerves found right there in front of him.

Lucky it was Bakugo that had her squirming and quaking and whimpering and crying.

Because, taking everything into consideration, she was safe with him.

Safer than she would or even could be with anyone else for that matter.

Who else could really protect her like he could, like he will, like he has?

She should be grateful he still wants her after she rejected him, humiliated him like she did. She was sure going to pay for it tonight. But first, he could at least treat her to what she had been missing, especially when thinking of how much he was going to take from her before the day let up.

It almost made him feel bad.

Almost, being the keyword, because without it he wouldn’t have thought it funny how many noises she could make without alerting anyone from outside, how no one cared whether she blubbered out common sniveling protests and screams of his name, begging him to stop, or those equally loud yet scarce moans that sprung from her despite her not wanting them to, each time he sucked too hard or too harshly on her clit, teeth rubbing over the sensitive skin found there. Her hips dancing a panicked series of shimming from side to side, controlled in his grasp and only aiding in his tongue finding new places to lick and suck at as he laid abusive worship onto the temple between them. Nose bumping and dipping and rubbing onto places too tender as his mouth moved lower.

Her knees jolting as he kept them spread open, claws digging into the grabbable flesh each time she would pound the ball of her heel into his back, the movement always falling still upon the building simmering threat of explosions in his palms, pain much sharper than that of his nails.

She wanting nothing more but to wrench away, especially upon feeling the shameful treacherous dripping of herself down onto the bedsheets, disgusted with her body, humiliated beyond repair, with the tongue of Katsuki lapping up what mess he had made out of her, teeth from a grin gracing in feather-light motions, yet still managing to shoot electricity up her core.

All she could do was pant and sob through moans and trying her best to force out more protests even though she knew it was to no use, until she felt him pull away, leaving her cold in loss of contact with heat.

She doubted his removal was because she’d begged it from him.

Her doubts being answered as she heard the crisp clatter of a belt-buckle opening.

Her eyes were swimming, gifting her with more panic as she wasn’t even able to see what he was doing, yet knowing, again wishing she didn’t, wishing she was rather deaf as well as blind, wishing all her senses to simply give away, all so that she didn’t have to witness what she was surely soon going to have to be the victim of.

She heard the clothes dropping to the floor, looked up at him through bleary blurry eyes, still recognising the sandy nuance of his skin fully on display before her.

His large hands found her knees again, prying them open. His hips fitting between her thighs.

“Ba- ba- Baku- go, plea- please, don’t- don’t… stop.” She choked on her tears, on her fear, on her panic, on the feeling of the cold breeze making her exposed sex shiver and beg for something warm to fill it up, on her disgust.

“Don’t stop?” He snickered, pinching her clit between his fingers, making her arch with a whine before trying to wrench away, yet stopped by his hands steadying on her knees, spreading her open for him.

His cock-head delved between her folds, and he had to catch a pathetic whimper from escaping his throat, settling for biting his lip instead and ridiculing the reason as to why he was feeling so weak in the first place. Growling at the little girl beneath him, all tied up and defenceless and hopeless and pathetic, but still able to make him feel so small.

“I knew you were just a stupid slut.”

It helped hearing her scream for him.

It helped hearing her choke on her own gasps as he filled her tight little space up with the warm length of his cock.

It helped feeling her squeeze and seize around the girth of him, hugging him close and tight, filling and stretching her out so nicely.

She had resorted to hectic crying, no words, no protests, just sobbing, hiccupping, coughing up her own cries.

And, although he imagined himself growling and groaning he fell short of those guttural rusty sounds and fell prey to whimpering like a lovesick puppy humping a plushie-toy instead.

His hands holding onto her hips as though letting go meant death as he rolled his hips into her, feeling her warm velvety walls welcome him home.

It felt so good he nearly barreled over, his face buried in her chest, hand coming up to enclose over her mouth as so to stop the cries and hear those soft muffled moans she made instead.

Small stifled broken wet mews spurred into his palm, as he kissed a trail up the valley of her chest and onto her neck, whispering with his breath shaky.

“If it makes you feel any better… this is my first time too.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because he was suddenly regretting his decision of being a monster, or maybe because the fright of being vulnerable disappeared at the feeling of conquering what made him afraid.

“I spread a rumour in second that I fucked Ururaka just to see your reaction.” He let out a breathy laugh, the open smile on his face indicated his nostalgia, as though it were a fond memory. “But you didn’t care at all did you?”

He snapped his hips forward, hitting something painful making her scream beneath his hand, opening it to hear her sob out in whimpers.

“Did you?!” It was accusatory and loud and right next to her ears, as he bared his teeth.

She was sure she was bleeding, feeling as though he was tearing her up, splitting her open, every harsh thrust felt deep within her abdomen, churning her guts.

“I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor- sorry!” She spluttered out, more thick gulps of tears streaking her cheeks with red.

“You know what I think?”

He leaned in closer, his nose poking into her cheek, lips brushing her ear, hands now having moved to cup her knees, pushing them up into the bedsheets beside her shoulders, hiking her up to meet his sharp thrusts.

“I think you wanted this…”

She shook her head as his grin gleamed from seeing her discomfort.

“Leaving your door unlocked like that, you were begging for this to happen.” He laughed, biting her earlobe, heavy balls clapping against her ass.

She sniveled. “You- you know we can’t afford-” She started, but was cut off by her own broken moan as Bakugo yet again made another sharp movement, sending an earth-shattering smack to fill the crammed space of her RV, and then again cut off by Bakugo’s own response.

“Yeah? But you could still afford that dress you wore to Homecoming couldn’t you?” He sounded crazed, upset and angry and obsessed with making her regret it. “When you went with that fucking extra instead of me?”

His forehead pushed against hers, eyes a feral red and large with rage, watching in sadistic glee as she scrunched her eyes together in pain, trying to block his voice out from her head.

“Yeah, I bet you’re sorry now.” He growled, again taking a break from his series of shallow thrusts to push deep into her, making her whine in wet agony. “That was the worst mistake of your life and you’re gonna make it up to me tonight.”

He pushed himself up, looking down at the crying mess he was buried inside, licking his lips.

She couldn’t stop apologising, as he fucked into her, her hands going numb under the bondage of his tie around her wrists.

“I’m sorr- sorry-” She croaked, face burning from her tears.

“Yeah? You better be.”

He gathered her ankles in his hands, holding them up, one hand coming to roll her sock down her leg.

“You’re gonna be.”

His hand caressed her small bare-foot tightly, thumb digging into her sole, his mind drifting to how cute and tiny it was, smaller than his hand, and strangely soft for someone who chooses to walk everywhere to save money.

“I’m sorry-” She blubbered. “I’m- I’m sorry...”

She struggled for breath between her apologies and cries, forgetting how to inhale as Bakugo’s cock crammed into her, stripping her lungs of their air.

He kissed the pad of her foot, before leaning down again, hands once more cupping her knees and pushing them against the mattress.

“Good.”

She quaked beneath his stare, his sharp teeth too close as she cringed at the wet creamy sloshing sound of his cock pounding into her.

She had to look away, wanting to twist to hide her face in her pillow and cry until he was done.

But he wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me when I fuck you.”

Gathering her face between his fingers, he scrunched her lips together as his own face closed in, his teeth coming to bite down on the vulnerable pout.

“You’re nothing without me, you understand that?”

One of his hands seized around her throat, adding slight pressure to accommodate his words.

“Good for nothing.” He spit. “Except for being my little slut, right?”

His claws scratched her throat, making her mewl and suck at her bitten bruised lip, tasting the metal.

“Come on, slut, I asked you a fucking question!”

Again, he angled his cock to jut into her painfully, making her gasp in strained pain at the stretch, followed by a sob.

“I’m just a slut-” She sniffled, eyes spiralling when looking into his unforgiving scarlet ones.

He smiled again, kissing her cheek.

“Who’s?”

The kiss became a lick, as he dragged his tongue up her tear-slicked cheek.

“Who’s slut?”

He felt her tremble and stiffen under his tongue, her eye’s squeezing shut.

“Your slut.” She answered, but it proved not to be good enough as another sharp painful thrust hit her core. “Bakugo’s slut.”

She knew it was wrong the second she said it as a growl rumbled against her neck, his teeth gracing, scraping against her tender flesh.

“Katsuki’s slut!”

The words all broken and wet and beautiful coming from her bloated and reddened lips.

He placed a chaste kiss to her jaw, nibbling his way up to her mouth, whispering upon them. “Yeah, that’s right, you’re nothing without me.”

He kissed roughly, growling for her to kiss back, hand still tightly locked around her neck, begging for her to refuse him only for him to squeeze the life out of her.

His tongue pushed into her mouth as he slobbered and drooled above her, mouth sucking on her lips, trailing down her jaw and down her throat, nibbling and biting and lapping at her skin like some hound drooling over steak.

His hand left her throat to grasp her clothed breasts as he hit a particular spot, calling an unintentional bucking of her hips into him, making him groan in pleasure, his own thrusts gaining speed, hitting that same spot he now knew would make her unravel.

“You’re so lucky to get my cock.”

He worked himself into a taller position again, dragging himself off her chest to admire what artwork he’d made of her collar and chest.

“Say you love it.”

She shook her head, a petty begging-look on her face.

It was a weak protest, almost enough to make him let it go, yet still outweighed by his need to make her pay.

His hips suddenly thrusting into her deeply, sharply, in all the ways he’d found out hurt.

She cried out. “No, no, Bakugo, please!” Panicked sobbing, her chest arching in pain, her legs coming to kick him off, yet were stopped as he pushed her knees into her chest. Jutting into her brutally.

“Say you love it and I’ll go slower.”

He saw her knuckles whiten at how hard she was balling her fists, tugging at her bonds desperately.

“I’ll fuck you good.” He promised, finding himself grow excited upon the thought. “Nice and slow like lovers do.” He had to snicker, even as she sobbed and hiccupped up screams that caught in her throat at his sharp thrusts, her eyes screwed tightly shut, allowing no tears to drop yet leaving them swimming in stinging salt.

His head dropped again to her temple, lips nibbling lightly on her cheek bone, his heavy breaths sounding louder than what snapping noise was made between his hips and the softness of her ass.

“Come on…” He drawled an impatient growl into her ear, a rumble that strung another whimper out from her.

More sobs followed, broken in their execution. “I love it… I love it.”

She hadn’t screamed it the way he wanted, but hearing it hang loosely onto her cries, all trembling and weak, was somehow better than what he thought he’d wanted anyway.

He slowed down, enough to lessen the sound of flesh slapping flesh and for the squishy noise of him filling her up again and again to replace it.

“What do you love?”

He made his way to rip open the seams of her shirt on her shoulder, not caring in the moment that she didn’t have a spare uniform to replace it. The shirt gone before she could even answer his question.

“You’re cock, I love you’re cock.” She sobbed, as her bra met with the same fate her shirt had, leaving her in just her little black skirt and one sock remaining, her tits springing loose, bouncing on both her cries and Bakugo’s movements.

“Fuck, good, such an obedient little pet.”

His head fell into the newly presented bare flesh with a moan, heavy panting as he slobbered up the valley between her breasts, palming the soft mounds before twisting the nipples between his fingertips, pulling at them, playing with them, his mouth sucking and biting, teasing the tender sensitivity.

His hands quitting their torment in favor of holding onto each their knee to keep her spread open for him as he rolled deeply into her spot.

“Feels so fucking-” He groaned, not bothering to finish the thought, before another impulse struck him.

His position in having his face buried in her neck and his body laid tight and snug on top of hers moved, making her feel the wisp of a chill coat her as their warm sweat-slicked bodies parted, feeling almost as though they were glued together as he pulled away, cock still being kept warm inside the comfort of her walls.

His hands came up to fickle with the knot that kept her hands locked above her head, his fingers sloppily tugging to loosen the tie, before gripping her hips tightly in a fashion meant to make sure she understood that despite being loose she was far from actually free.

Lifting her up of the spot she’d sunk into on the mattress and on to straddling his torso, his feet hitting the ground with a dunk with her propped up on his thighs, every little movement of his adjusting making his cock poke and message into other new dangerous places, places too tight to be attacked in whichever reckless unthoughtful way Bakugo saw fit.

Fingers running, or rather digging into her skin and making way to rake up her sides, grabbing and clinging to her midriff to pull her close, with his thighs beginning to impatiently move in a boyish manor to satiate the need for friction his member craved.

One arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand made to grab her chin, allowing him to look over her, again tempted to bite into those lushes red lips, all bloated and made for his teeth to gnaw on. Yet, his mouth made way to her neck instead, licking up her throat, sucking on the thin skin, wanting to make his mark flourish in red explosions all over her.

“Be a good quirkless slut and bounce on my cock, make yourself useful for once.”

His knees jolted upwards making her hop, followed by his cock sinking deeper into her.

Her hands held uncertainly mid-air made to grip his shoulders at the further intrusion, biting back another cry, however unable to keep the sobbing sigh from rupturing her throat.

However, she wasn’t given long to recover as his hand came down to plant a red-hot slap on her ass, making her jump on her own.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

She started moving, unsure of what or which way to do it, finding the rhythm of rocking her hips forward after a while, earning a disgusting sigh of satisfaction from the blonde holding a bruising grip on her.

“That’s right...”

His arm moving to hold a death-grip on her waist, thumb digging into the underside of her ribs, poking each time she lolled forward and at the same time threatened her to stop.

His other hand came to grip her face again, stiff lips crashing against teary lips. Sucking her face as though stealing her life-source, only breaking between breaths to announce cocky cruel comments and instructions.

“Stay right there, slut.” A thrust from his hips accompanied the nickname, making her wince and lurch forward into him. “Aww that’s cute.”

Both his hands went under her skirt to grab at her ass, lifting her up only to sleeve himself inside her once again.

“Does that feel good? Huh? Right there?”

Another slap and she rested even harder against his chest, trying to find comfort in the pitch black her screwed-shut eyes left her in, yet the overwhelming scent of caramel wasn’t easily ignored, and neither was how perfectly his cock sunk into her.

His hands fingered the fabric of her skirt as he bumped into her from beneath. Tugging on the textile until ripping it off, the action earning her gasp as she was now wearing nothing but her one sock, the skirt having provided as some false sense of coverage.

“Is the slut enjoying herself?” He mocked, a salacious grin constantly spreading on his face between moans and grunts.

She shook her head, the urge to fight herself to freedom awakening yet again as her hands moved to push at his chest.

“No… stop.”

But her back was supported, or rather steadied, with Bakugo’s large palm, little sparking ignitions gaining control of her struggles quickly, the fight leaving her body with a whimper of defeat, just as quickly as it had arrived.

Another sharp thrust ripped a strangled moan from her and he grinned.

“Liar.” He snickered. “You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good little slut 'cause that's the only thing you know how not to fuck up, only thing your whore mom ever taught you.”

Forcing her hips to roll faster, the slick coated their thighs as her tits bounced for him.

“Does she share this bed with both you and her crackhead fuck-friends?”

He couldn’t defend his need to make her cringe in his arms, why he wanted to see her ashamed, why he wanted her crying into him.

“Such a freak. Are you gonna cum on the same sheets your mom sleeps on?”

Sharp fingers dug into her cheeks again, all because he wanted to be entertained by the show of her breaking.

He pulled her hips closer, fighting to hit that spot that had her mewling earlier, wanting to hear her mewl again, wanting to prove his point.

Once he found it she fell flush against him, melting in his hands, soft-spoken moans falling like drool down her chin.

“Like that, right there?” His words fell hot on her lips as his thumb pushed into her mouth and down onto her tongue, holding her chin in place.

Her eyes crossed then upon his cock nudging in just the right way against her cervix, as well as her brows drawing up into a pretty eruption.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groaned, clutching tighter onto her hip, rocking her forward to meet his thrusts. “Are you gonna cum on my cock, huh?”

With his thumb still dipped into her mouth, she tried her best to retort.

“No…”

It couldn’t be referred to as defiance as it was too pitiful to be called that.

“Yes, you are.”

He sucked on her collarbone, making his way up by kissing a trail of slobbering kisses and bites to her ear.

With his hips still angled just right, his thumb left her mouth to grip her other hip.

He could feel her tight little pussy start to convulse around his shaft, small flutters that squeezed him tightly, milking him.

She hated that she wanted to spill over so badly. The surging swimming boiling buzz constantly teased by Katsuki’s plush cockhead pushing and poking and jabbing at her cervix again and again.

She felt it coming, the snapping, breaking, splitting, the building coming close to bursting, yet she was reminded of who she was with in her reach for bliss and found herself regretting chasing it.

“No, no, not with him, not with him, not-”

It was too late as she tried holding it back, tried grasping it as hard as she was clamping down on his cock, as hard as she was digging her nails into his shoulders.

The movements of his hips slowed down.

“There you go. Feel good, slut?” He mocked as her body spasmed, skin freezing over under his touch, feeling disgusted, skin-crawlingly disgusted with herself and how she was unable to control the continuous spasms that seemed to ricochet through her spontaneously. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

His speed picked up again, humping into her, making her ride through her orgasm, feeling the almost painful ticklish pressure build again upon each time he bottomed-out ruthlessly inside the comfort of her wet walls.

“No, Bakugo stop, stop!” Her pleads weren’t met.

“Is it too much?” He laughed, gathering a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck in order to make her look up at him, making her wince as he spit his words into her face. “Mommy didn't do too good a job at raising her slut, I see. Can't even handle cumming without crying." He jeered, mock pouting at her with his forehead pressed into hers, blood-soaked orbs forcing eye-contact from her wide tear-stained ones as she whimpered. "Aw, is my cock too much for the little whore?”

“Yes, stop!” She couldn't care less if she was answering some cruel nickname , the painful pressure assaulted inside her was something too vehement she needed to make relent, but yet again was her plead answered with a lack of mercy in an eerie whisper and nothing more.

“I’m not finished yet.”

All she could do was beg for him to finish… so that’s what she did.

“Please...”

He gathered her face in his hand again, fingers squishing into her cheeks hurtfully as he made to sneer into her face.

“Please what? Please fuck your whore cunt harder? Please make you cum again?”

Even as he snickered and mocked, his cock twitched at the sight of her.

Eyes all puffy and swimming in her own tears, eyebrows knitted together, begging for mercy.

Completely and literally held in the palm of his hand, yet her gaze still managing to make him feel fuzzy with the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

“Oh fuck, say you love me.”

Cold dread made up most of her body, what else was the rising crippling shameful feeling of something sweet knotting up somewhere in her lower abdomen again, this time harder than before as her already abused high was continuously pocked by Katsuki’s swollen cockhead kissing her cervix harshly again and again and again, driving her insane. And all of it made his demand impossible to answer, impossible to even comprehend.

Yet, she was in no position to refuse with her face held up between his fingertips and his crimson eyes boring holes straight into her terror-wide heart.

“Say you love me or I’ll cum inside you.” His voice lacking all she considered still human. Not a hint of remorse or guilt or shame or pity.

She gulped on her breaths, yet managed to voice the words. “I love you, Katsuki.”

Her eyes now unable to look away from him. Even as he picked up the painful pace, stabbing at her core, in places she had no former knowledge of, places the length of her fingers could never even as much as dream of reaching.

“Fuck.” A boyish virginal whimper laced the moan that escaped him at her words, satisfaction easing the raging and crazed look on his face. “I love you too.”

His toes curled painfully, cold and numb against the floorboards.

“I love you.”

Hands warm and sliding against dewy and doughy flesh.

"I love you."

Something pulling, straining, building to burst was chasing release, sending spasms to shoot through his shaft.

"I love you."

He knew what was coming. He knew it would be better than ever.

“We’ll get you a pill later, ‘kay?”

The guilt was washed over with the promise of painting her walls.

“It’s fine.” He tried reassuring as he felt her revolt in his arms, all her strength fighting to get off him, yet was no match against the force of his hands holding onto her, and his need to explode inside.

She resulted to begging instead. “No, no, Katsuki stop, don’t, please!”

Feeling her hope being crushed in his palm, picturing his laughing face as she turned her vision to black, his feral smile like supersonic light, dangerous and deadly and made to rip throats out.

And then it was done, she felt the last thrust like the last blow through her gut.

Cream filling her up, smearing between their thighs, Katsuki’s head resting on her shoulder with his hands holding onto her hips, fingers marking their presence into her back yet softening their grip with each of his panting breaths landing on her breasts.

Her blood ran cold through stiff veins, as though she were dead. Her skin crawling, as though rotting with mites.

Sickness.

Sickness in her lungs, in her throat, building, climbing up her pipes.

She slung herself off in a hurry, and with Katsuki coming down from whatever sick high he was riding, he wasn’t alert enough to catch her, which was probably a good thing because after her staggering her way to the bathroom, feeling his cum and her wetness leak out of her and drip along the inside of her thighs, she only barely made it in time to open the toilet compartment, get to her knees in the small space and haul her guts out into the small stained bowl.

Feeling like her mother, each time she came home all sweaty, mascara smeared with tears on her face like a garbage racoon, sticking her fingers down her throat and gagging until she collapsed on the floor, face laid in her own puke.

She heard Katsuki’s heavy footsteps, one and two before his hand met with her neck. Collecting her hair in a ponytail in his grip with the other hand encompassing her naked back.

She was afraid he was going to pull her up, expecting her scalp to soon scream in protest at the feel of her hairs being ripped up from their roots.

Yet, as she awaited the torture… all she felt was the slow stroking of carefully placed paths running up her spine and then down to the small of her back in a manor either meant to be comforting or patronizing, with her hair being kept away from her face as she retched on repeat.

It was mostly just water and acid, and Katsuki made a mental note to make her eat later as he helped her up with his hands under her arms, supporting her when seeing how her shivering rendered her knees too weak to stand on her own, lifting her up on a tiny counter which would have been impossible for him if he were to try and sit on it, yet seemed the perfect size for her.

The ruff base of his thumb brushed the spit from the corner of her mouth, her large eyes meeting his own as he leaned in, soft weak hands only barely pushing against his chest in an act to stop him, but his lips pushed onto her anyway.

Parting with a string of silver connecting them, and he couldn’t help but fall prey to how beautiful she was even in her broken ugliness, how prettily her eyes fluttered with sticky eyelashes clutching together as though hugging for comfort, stray wisps of hair dancing in front of her face. Her wet breaths, sobbing breaths, hiccupping breaths, trembling past those soft pillow-y and blossomed lips, plump and full and bitable, or huffed through her nose, sniveling and sniffing and so very unfairly precious.

His thumb stroked over those lips, watching them quiver.

He took time admiring her, feeling her cold fingertips vibrate against his chest, wondering if she could feel how hard his heart was hammering inside his ribcage with how much she was shaking. Wondering if she knew just how much he’d wanted this, how long he’d wanted this, how despite him ignoring her cries, that she understood how this wasn’t in vain, how he wasn’t just doing this because he could, that he was doing this because he needed to, that he wasn’t doing this because he hated her but because he loved her, loved her too much to let her simply slip from between his fingers again.

His fingers latched onto the band of her sock, pulling it down and off at her toes, finally leaving her completely bare.

“Let’s get you in the shower.”

He moved to pick her up, uncaring of her newly sparked urge to fight him.

“No, Katsuki…”

She tried pushing, she tried making him stop despite everything being slippery and sticky and gross. The want to cry herself to sleep knowing and finding some comfort in the fact that Katsuki was done with her and long gone outweighed the want to get clean.

“The water’s cold, you won’t like it.” She argued in a weak attempt to sway him from the idea, yet knowing full well that he didn’t care.

“Come on…” He drawled as he caught her bothersome fists by the wrists in his massive hands. “We’ll take a shower and then we’ll go get your pill…”

He fought to find eye-contact.

“We both know you don’t have the money for it anyway…”

Typical of him to mention her situation. Typical of him to use it against her. And though it was typical, though it was predictable, it still made her heart clench, her soul twist, her spirit crumble.

He swore he saw something start to break in her eyes, wanting to deliver the final blow to snuff out whatever fight she still had left.

He leaned in more, his nose brushing against hers.

“You need me.”

Her struggles stopped at that, Katsuki wrapping her legs around his back to support her as he carried her to the shower. Her cheek resting on his shoulder, completely deflated.

It wasn’t at all as in the movies. Sweet couples who help wash each other’s hair, warm bodies gliding against one another, soft perfect handprints printed on the dewy glass.

She hadn’t been lying, the water was freezing as the showerhead spritzed the water down on them with a force close to that of aching.

They didn’t both fit in the crammed space either, Katsuki was sure that even him alone wouldn’t fit in the tight space, where he was left to have one foot on the floorboards outside the door, water rushing into the hallway, running down his leg, but he didn't care.

His frame blocked the door completely, allowing her no shape or form of exit as he made her stand there, under the showerhead, hair slicking to her neck and nipples perking into hardness under the freeze, goosebumps strutted and coated her flesh from head to toe, her cheeks and lips blossomed with a purple hue, her eyes closed, head dipped in discomfort or shame or embarrassment or sorrow or a bit of everything and even more.

Her body trembled beneath his warm hands, as they cupped her breasts, palming them and playing and pinching with her back hunching in a weak effort to get her discomfort across, despite knowing how he didn’t care, with the fact having been proven time and time again.

His warm calloused fingertips brushed down her abdomen, eyes stark and loud as they looked at her body, thinking of how unblemished and beautiful her skin was as opposed to him, no roughness or ugly greenish bruises, just milky smooth and rosy suppleness and all his.

His hand traveled further, causing her small ones to reach out and grip around his wrist, both hands giving their best effort at trying to stop him. Though his other hand was quick to wrap around her throat and extract a sweet gasp with the movement.

Her hands removed their pressure yet remained on him as he brushed featherlight touches over the sensitiveness of her sex, fingertips dipping into her folds, slithering in the slick velvet of his cum mixed with her wetness.

A sob ricocheted through her as her toes curled, fingers bending and nailing into his wrist. Still, he continued. Fingers pushing inside, pumped knuckle-deep inside the puffy spongey walls, reaching deep before scissoring, making her knees bend, yet kept from falling by the hand around her neck keeping her up like a noose as he curled the two digits.

Her eyes avoided his, looking down at his limp cock who somehow seemed just as intimidating as before, like a sleeping beast ready to wake at any second.

Yet, as much as he played with her sex, his own remained still.

He picked her up again as he saw more of her skin going purple, not really wanting her to get sick, just refreshed.

Water flooded on the soft-with-mould floorboards in the tight hallway as her feet dragged against the walls when he yet again carried her to the bed. And as much as she wanted to fight as he placed her dripping body down onto the sheets, she couldn’t find the energy. Tears, however, still managed to drip down her face, unhurriedly gliding down her cheeks, warm in stark contrast amidst the freezing shower-water.

“Do you wanna hear something really fucked up?”

It was rhetorical, but he wouldn’t have gotten an answer either way.

“I used to be jealous of your crack-whore mother…”

Her face cringed, confused yet still not desiring to know what he meant.

“Fuck, I’m still jealous when you come to school and I see that there's somebody else who makes you cry harder than me.”

She had to swallow in order not to gulp.

“You’re sick.”

Those were the wrong words, for as quickly as they entered the air, he was once again on top of her, squeezing the breath from out of her lungs.

“I’m sick?” He questioned, fingers plunging inside her, a forced moan ripped from her throat. “You’re the one cumming and creaming and squirting all over my cock while crying.” He bit out while starting to pump into her cruelly, finding it easier now as she was already wet from before. “Telling me you love it, telling me you love me.” He laughed as he sneered. “Who would’ve known what a slut you are. So desperate you let your own bully fuck you like this. You fucking whore.”

His pushed his thumb into her clit cruelly, a sadistic smile on his face as she struggled.

“Stop, shut up, shut up!” Her palms made to push at his hard chest, yet was weakened as she felt the burning sweetness start to pool were his fingers poked.

“You don’t like that nickname? No? Aww, that’s fine.” He hissed, then scoffed. “It’s not true anyway...” He muttered beneath his breath, trying to find what sweet spot his fingers could reach as so to have her unravel beneath him again, wanting to lick the sin from her expression, wanting to bathe in his victory of making her his. “How did it feel to have my cock balls deep inside your precious little virgin innocent cunt, huh? Better yet, how does it feel to know how I am your first? First to kiss you, first to fuck you, first to make you cum.”

“Fuck you.”

Any remnants of strength was now spent on those last words, as the rest was spared to support her oncoming orgasm, the one she could feel clawing, sucking all senses up as though preparing for an implosion.

“That’s right…” He whispered. “Fuck me. Your first and your last.”

His ominous tone had her guts churning, which in some sick sense only added to the pooling dam that was about to snap inside her, but she kept her eyes wide, further digging into what his words meant, wondering if this would be her last day on earth, wondering if Bakugo would be the last person she'd ever see, ever feel, ever touch.

“You look like I’m gonna kill you.” He observed as he curled his fingers once again, making her hips buckle into his hand, which in turn made him grin. “Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you…”

His head dipped so that he could nibble at her neck, lick up the tender flesh with his fingers pumping in and out of her, coated in slick, collecting and drenching in his palm.

“I’m just gonna make sure no one ever touches what’s mine again…”

She couldn’t explain why the growl in his voice had her abdomen doing flips.

“Including that fuckface slut you call a mother.”

His fingers scissored, her back arching as she moaned.

“You’ll be lucky I even let you graduate.”

She couldn’t quite catch what he was saying anymore, just the lilt in his tone which had her falling apart beneath him, the walls of her pussy fluttering in pleasure.

“People go missing all the time.”

Her toes curled and she braced herself.

“That way I can have you all for myself.”

His warm lips pressed against her neck, his growls reverberating on her skin.

“All mine.”

His fingers poked at something that was about to burst and as she wanted to climb further up on the bed to escape it, she also wanted him to follow.

“Where you belong.”

And there it was, body melting into the mattress, all shame obsolete in those seconds.

Unable to see him lick her orgasm off his fingers as her eyes had crossed and traveled way too far into the back of her skull.

Unable to prepare for his kiss as her mouth hung open, soft feeble moans cut loose into the air, captured by Bakugo’s mouth.

She didn’t catch the second he stopped kissing her, nor did she catch the moment he got off the bed.

She must have fallen asleep for a short while because when she opened her eyes again Bakugo was dressed, rummaging through cabinets containing worn out clothes and things like it, seeming displeased with most of what he found.

She looked to her side, where placed on the bed was a towel, fresh underwear and a bra.

She motioned for the towel first, feeling the shameful wet stickiness between her thighs, hurriedly wiping it clean before putting on her garments, looking up to see Bakugo staring at her, having found something suitable to dress her in.

“Put this on.”

She didn’t bother looking at what he’d so graciously offered her of her own clothes.

Her eyes narrowed at him instead.

“I don’t want your help.” She sneered, looking away, crossing her arms over her chest as so to hide herself from his piercing gaze.

His fingertips were quick in clutching her cheeks, raking them into her skin as he turned her head back to look at him.

“Too bad, you need it.”

The fabric was cast at her lap unceremoniously, the soft silky feel cold against her bare thighs.

“Put it on.” The growl was followed by him removing his hand with a push.

She huffed before looking down at the presented article, wondering what Bakugo wanted to dress her up in, her lips forming a disgusted snarl.

“It’s my mother’s.”

The yellow summer-dress, flowy and frilly in texture, something she’d never wear, something Bakugo knew well she would never wear.

“It’d go to waste on her.”

This made her look up, curiosity or maybe even a form of flattery evident in the curl between her brows.

The sudden eye-contact catching Bakugo off guard as he’d shared the uncharacteristically tender opinion of the girl out loud.

He scoffed, crimson eyes darkening in an attempt to hide the building flustered panic, masking it with a growl instead.

“Put it on, I won’t ask again.”

She fingered the fabric for a while longer before treading it on over her head, letting the skirt dress her thighs with a featherlight fall.

Looking like a spring-daydream, not at all as though she’d just lived through a nightmare.

With her drying hair falling in messy curled tousles down her shoulders, Bakugo reached out a hand to fasten the small wispy strands coming to tickle her forehead behind her ear, grabbing her wrists in favor of her hand when he pulled her up.

“Let’s go. I can’t stand this shithole.”

Wondering if he should have said that he couldn’t stand her in that shithole instead.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

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stanknotstark · 3 years

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5 Times Loki Held Your Hand and One Time You Held His

Only realizing it when they have to let go

You and Loki had become close friends when he came down with Thor. You were friends with Jane and through her knowing Thor scored a job at Stark Enterprise in R&D. This is where you basically just played with Tony’s new toys to make sure they work correctly and efficiently. Tony had invited you to live at Stark tower so you didn’t have to make an hour commute every day. Thus when Thor came down with Loki you ran into him randomly in the tower.

You two first met one night when you couldn’t sleep and decided to wander the tower. Your final destination was one of the common areas that held a bar and an open view of the entire city with floor to ceiling windows.

You had entered the common area and spotted a dark figure sitting in front of the windows. Clearing your throat the figure looks at you and you realize it’s Loki.

“Mind if I join? I can totally leave if you’d prefer.” You say nervously from in front of the elevator.

Loki looks you up and down with his eyes then shrugs. You take that as a cue to do whatever you please. So, you make your way over to him and sit far enough you don’t touch but close enough that you share companionship.

It’s silent for awhile but you can tell Loki is thinking so you stay quiet and just look across the lights lighting up the never sleeping city.

“Are you not scared?” Loki finally breaks the silence and asks.

You look at him confused. “Of what?”

Loki looks at you, now confused too. “Of me.”

You really look at Loki. He has bags under his eyes, almost too hidden to see and you can see his face holds line of stress. His features are taught as if trying to hold himself back from something.

“No.” You say, taking your eyes off him and looking at the city again.

“Why? I could kill you.” Loki nearly demands but his voice doesn’t raise from the almost whisper you had both adopted.

“And? Anyone could. Natasha could, a random stranger on the street could, hell I’m sure a really dedicated cat could kill me. I can kill myself. Why are you so special?” You say, your left hand coming up to rest in between your knees where you lay your chin. Your right hand stays on the floor to support yourself. You don’t look at Loki.

However, you do hear him scoff. After a few seconds when you’re sure he’s not looking at you anymore he chuckles. “I would ask if you’re alright but I don’t particularly care.”

At this you laugh lightly, “I didn’t ask for you to care.” You look at Loki who turns to look at you, squinting.

“You’re weird.” He says and you shrug with a smile still on your face. “I like it.”

You both go silent and look out at the city. Loki breaks the silence again by asking what certain buildings are and their functions. Through your explanations both of you fail to realize Loki let his left hand drift and cover your right hand still on the floor. It’s natural and you both like it subconsciously.

When you yawn you go to raise both your arms and Loki realizes he had been holding your hand and pulls away like he’s burnt. You don’t say anything about it, you’re not even bothered by it, you simply stretch and stand.

“I’m tired. Good night.” You say, Loki nods, and you make your way to the elevator and to your wonderful bed that sits waiting for you.

Not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd

The next time you hold hands isn’t for another month.

Your relationship has developed a lot since that night in the tower. You’re practically inseparable and spend hours together daily. Loki appreciates your humor and non judgmental attitude about him. You enjoy his sarcasm, wit, and love for knowledge. Of course there is more you both love about each other but you keep it simple.

Today, Loki has agreed to attend Stark’s Expo with you. He is curious as to what Earth has to offer with science and technology. He relishes in the fact that you turn and look at him and accept his offered hand to drag him from table to table, without losing each other in the crowd. You explain what everything is and how it works. You were obviously passionate about technology and science and what new things these students had to offer. Loki found he really enjoyed whatever it was that made you so passionate and animated about the new tech.

You keep a tight hold on his hand as you both make your way around the convention room and if he squeezes your hand back with just as much vigor he knows you won’t say anything.

You both finally make it to the center stage where Tony is supposed to appear for a grandiose speech on the winners of the Stark Fund scholarship. When you both sit down in seats not far from the stage you keep holding Loki’s hand.

Loki vaguely hears what you’re saying but more so is focused on how well both your hands fit. While his is cold, yours is warm, where his is calloused and rough, yours is delicate and soft, while his is big yours is small. He thinks that there could be no better fit. He could hold your hand forever. Unfortunately you let go of his hand when you make it to the car, after the expo is over, but he vows that you will hold his hand again.

Grabbing hand to show them something

This time, when Loki grabs your hand, you’re both on the roof of the tower waiting for a meteor shower. He grabs it in between your conversation when he spots the first meteor and points at the sky.

“Look.” He says watching you watch the meteors flash across the sky like shooting stars, as you had called them.

He lovingly watches as your mouth opens a little, your face filled with mirth and excitement. From his spot he sees your eyes practically twinkling.

“It’s beautiful.” He hears you whisper.

“It truly is.” He says, still staring at you adoringly.

You turn and look at him with a smile. “Thanks.” You say in reference to him bringing you out to experience this.

Loki gives a small smile, closed lip, and a short nod in understanding. “Any time.”

You both look back at the sky and watch as one more lonely meteor passes and then it’s over all too soon. You sigh, look at the ground in an attempt to look at Loki’s hand holding yours, then look up at the god.

“I’m sure I’ll never see them up close but this is just as magical.” You say.

Loki purses his lips in thought. “If that is your wish, I shall make it happen, some day.” He says with determination.

You smile again, something you can’t stop doing around the god, “I’ve no doubt you’ll achieve this, somehow.” You laugh a little.

Loki smiles down at you, lifts your hand to his lips, and kisses it.

“Shall we go back inside and try some of the Moon berries Thor brought back?”

You nod excitedly and rush to the door with Loki behind, never releasing each others hands.

Possessive hand-holding

You’re attending Stark’s gala for some charity you’ve never heard of. Tony had told you to attend so you could make some connections and further your research with funding. Loki had agreed to be your plus one when you asked him a few days before. That’s how you found yourself in a dark, emerald halter dress that flowed to your feet in elegance. Loki wore a three piece suit, the outer suit jacket and pants black, the inner vest the same dark, emerald as your dress, and a white button up underneath.

What you don’t expect is for all the men to flock to you when Loki excuses himself to grab you both a drink. You’re surrounded by three men asking you questions about your work but you can read the flirt in between their words. You act nice but don’t play into their flirtations. When they start to lean closer to you you start to get a bit uncomfortable.

Luckily you spot Loki not too far away coming to you with a soft glare on his features. You know he’s downplaying the glare so he doesn’t outright scare everyone in his path. You knew all too well Loki could very likely kill someone with his infamous glare.

When Loki makes it back you subconsciously hover into his side and take your drink from his hand with a small thanks. When his hand is free Loki’s hand finds its way down your arm and takes your hand into his. He smiles at the three men sharply and you introduce Loki as your date. The three men back off but don’t leave quite yet.

Once they’ve asked all their questions they leave you with their business cards and stalk off to their next victim.

You wait till they’re far enough and deflate a little with a small sigh. Looking up at Loki, who looks down at you concerned, you smile reassuringly and take a sip of the champagne in your hand.

“I need to give Stark more credit and I now understand why he hates these things.” You say after your sip of the dry alcohol, shaking your head, “Everyone in here is like a shark waiting to feed on you if you show an ounce of weakness.”

Loki chuckles. “They’ll have to get through me before they even look at you.” Loki empathetically says, squeezing your hand.

You look away from Loki, “So, technically, are we dating? Is this what’s going on? Because I’m honestly a little confused.” You say shyly. Squeezing his hand in yours.

Loki doesn’t say anything so you look at him a little anxious that you might have crossed some unseen boundary. When you look into his eyes he finally answers. “Is that what you want?”

“I mean,” You bring your drink to your lips, let the drink coat your mouth, swallowing, and cherish that Loki is leaning into you with anticipation, “Yes. Quite frankly I’ve been wanting this for months now.” You finally say with an opened mouth smirk.

Loki smirks too. “Then yes, we’re dating, exclusively.” He adds the last part in case that wasn’t explicitly clear.

You watch as Loki takes a drink of the champagne and his Adams apple bobs, his neck is bared to you and you want to lick a stripe up it. The moment is over too soon and you look at Loki with a glare.

“What’s a girl got to do to get a kiss around here?”

Loki smirks, places his drink on the counter you stand next to and looks at you with a raised brow. You smile. Loki then uses his free hand to cup your face, stare at you with amazement that this is actually happening, then close the short distance between you two and finally kiss you.

Only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely

It’s a few weeks after the gala and officially dating Loki that you hold hands again. This time it’s in public. You’re both walking central park, mostly so you could get some fresh air. After the gala you had made a lot of connections and were getting unbelievable funding for your personal projects which in turn had you cooped up inside working constantly. Loki took it upon himself to get you out and about.

You had both been totally besotted in each other and talking about random exciting things while walking and holding hands, when you make it to Bethesda Fountain. At the sight of it you ramble on about having change to throw and pull Loki towards it with glee. As you near it you both pull your hands away but only enough to still hang on my the pinky. You turn and look at Loki with a loving look, bring the god’s face to down to kiss you, then let go of his hand completely to cup his jaw with both hands. After you pull back Loki opens his eyes to fall in love with the way you look at him.

“We both make a wish when we throw in our pennies, ok?” You ask, completely pulling from Loki’s hold and searching in your purse for two pennies. Loki watches you with a frown but accepts the penny you give him.

When you both stand at the edge of the fountain you count down from three and as the pennies hit the water you both silently make your wishes. Loki wishes for marriage with you and he’s honestly not quite sure what you wish for. He questions if he’s moving too fast but disregards that thought. Both of you had been very romantic leading up to dating and knew each other inside and out from constantly spending time together. Just because it’s only been official a few weeks means nothing. Loki knows he wants you forever.

You turn to look at Loki and wag a finger, “Don’t tell me what you wished for or it won’t come true!”

Loki smiles and grabs your hand again, “Then I shall keep my lips shut, darling.”

+1 comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together

It’s you who initiates the hand holding this time. It’s a couple of months into dating when you do it. Loki will never forget it because you had initiated it this time.

You’re both casually spending time in the common area with Nat, Clint, and Thor when it happens. You’re sitting across from Loki, both of you with crossed legs, playing a game of cards with him on the big couch Stark has. Nat and Clint are making bets as to who is going to win each round and Thor is fascinated as you explain everything going on in the game.

Loki goes to flip his card when you stop talking to Thor and grab his hand. Loki looks up at you confused but watches with fascination as you flatten his hand out then put yours up to it and compare sizes. His hand looks like it could engulf yours. You hum thoughtfully and intertwine your fingers with his and return to the game as if nothing just happened, setting your hands to the side of the game on the couch.

Loki himself feels a little breathless but takes is a small gasp when Thor claps his shoulder.

“Brother you’re at 19 are you truly sure you want to get hit again?” Thor asks.

Loki glances back at Thor but disregards him and looks at you instead. You look innocent enough but the spark in your eyes says you know what you’ve just done to Loki.

Loki clears his throat. “Hit me, the risk is well worth it.”

He watches as you give him a faced down card next to his jack and nine cards.

You look up at him with a smirk, “Try your luck, Mischief.” You say.

Loki raises a brow then turns the card you gave him.

It’s an ace.

Loki smirks at you when you gasp and look at his cards with wide eyes. Natasha groans and pays Clint, Thor laughs roaringly.

Both of your hands are still linked on the couch. Loki uses his thumb to caress your thumb and says, “What’s even more satisfying is that I didn’t even have to cheat.”

You look at Loki with a mix of awe and satisfaction. “And here I thought I was the lucky one in this relationship.”

Loki chuckles, “You’re severely mistaken.” He says, obviously not talking about the game anymore when he gives you a look full of tenderness and love.

#5 times loki held your hand and one time you held his #whoa it took me freaking 4 hours to write this completely out in one sittingXDD #loki x reader #loki #reader insert #my writing #one shot #5 times #ill write more 5 times one shots but only occasionally #because they take a few hours to write and research what i want to do lol #all my 5 times shots will be tagged under '5 times'#and ill put them on the master list too #i hope you guys enjoy idk if im gonna beta read this cuz my neck and back hurt from not sitting properly to write lol #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #ok i beta read it and i can't promise i caught everything but damn there were some big mistakes in there XD #enjoy!

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ratmonky · 3 years

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Deceitful Curse

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: non-con, stalking, obsession, mild blood, chikan, gaslighting, manipulation, humiliation, degradation, misogyny, exhibitionism

AO3 Link

As promised, this will be a gift fic for my lovely friend @lyrrotting , I promise I will write your four armed Sukuna fic soon to make up for this shitty fic lol <3

It was said that most people had an angel sitting on their right shoulder and a devil sitting on their left shoulder, the two bickered into the person’s ears about many things. While the devil would try to tempt the person, the angel would become the sound of conscience.

However, Yuuji only had the King of Curses whispering in his ear and he himself had to be the voice of conscience within his own mind.

Certainly, there would be a time he would be tempted to listen.

~~~

Life was good, Yuuji had already graduated over a year ago and gotten his sorcerer license to work until his inevitable execution.

Life was good, everyone had moved on with their lives. Inumaki had gotten a girlfriend, Fushiguro had a girlfriend and from what he heard, Maki and Kugisaki were dating each other.

Life was good, they were all happy.

Life was good, everyone else was happy.

~~~

There was a new coffee shop that had opened just two blocks down from where he lived. Naturally, Yuuji wanted to check it out for the sole purpose of seeing how big the place was. When he invited his friends over to his place and if they ever stayed the night, he wanted to have a place he could take them to for a brunch or a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately for him, the place was small. There were barely a dozen tables and nobody seemingly wanted to sit at the cramped coffee shop when they could walk to the nearby park to enjoy their coffee.

The place was crowded due to rush hour so he returned a couple of hours later to finally order something.

As soon as he walked inside, the sugary smell of the sweets and the strong aroma of the coffee surrounded him.

“Welcome!” said a cheerful voice. It was you, beaming at him with the brightest smile he had ever seen on anyone. It looked too genuine to be a fake service worker's smile.

He hesitantly walked up to the counter with a blush coloring his cheeks from the intensity of your smile that was aimed towards him. “Hi,” he said before lifting his eyes up to the menu displays. “Ah.” He had no idea what to get. “Takeaway, I think, and ahh… Um…”

As if you noticed his struggle, you started talking. “If you like sweets I’d recommend my special summer drink. If you like coffee, I can give you the best brew in the whole city. It isn't strong but the aroma actually tastes like fresh coffee beans, I roast them fresh every day.” You were so bright, still smiling. Didn’t your cheeks hurt? How could anyone be this sweet? “Or I can choose a drink for you! Trust me, I’ll make it count!”

He understood none of the things you were saying but he felt like he could trust you to choose a drink for him, so he nodded approvingly.

Clapping your hands together, you walked behind the coffee machine and disappeared from his view. “You live around here?”

Yuuji was caught off guard and didn’t realize you were talking to him for a while until you repeated your question. “Ah, yes! I live around the corner.”

“I’ll do my best to impress you so you’ll buy coffee from here every day.” Your tone wasn’t flirty. It was friendly and inviting, actually welcoming.

“That’s a good business tactic,” he said, matching your tone. “But I’m not that easy to impress.”

“Isn’t my prices enough to impress you? They’re rather cheap for the service you get and I’m not even talking about the quality of my products.” You reappeared with a plastic coffee mug, it had ice and apparently black coffee in it. You poured some sort of golden cream over the coffee on the counter where he could see it.

Like hypnotized, Yuuji watched with his mouth wide open as the two colors mixed in a gradient effect in his drink before you put a lid on it.

“Was that good enough?” you asked, proudly. “To impress you I mean.”

“Y-yeah.” He reached and took the drink you set on the counter. He was carefully examining the colors in awe when he abruptly realized that he hadn’t even paid yet. Hastily he dug his hand in his pocket and took out his wallet, “I’ll come here more often I think if I like the drink of course.”

“Hmm, you’ll like it so I’m not worried.” You smiled as he paid with his credit card. “See you later…” Furrowing your burrows, you looked at him so he would fill in.

“Itadori,” he introduced himself, blushing. “Yuuji Itadori.”

“(name),” you said, offering a cute smile. “Have a nice day, Itadori.”

“Y-you too.” He waved awkwardly and you did the same with a giggle. It was clear that he was a little overwhelmed.

By the time Yuuji exited the shop, he hadn’t realized how hard he was blushing or how he had forgotten to even try his drink. Then he blushed even harder realizing how embarrassing he acted back in the shop but he shook his head to get over those thoughts.

Decidedly, he took a sip from his coffee and immediately understood why you were so confident that he would be back to buy more.

~~~

The next day, it wasn’t exactly the incredible coffee you had sold him yesterday that brought him here.

It was you.

He was trying to convince himself that wasn’t the case though.

However, Sukuna knew the truth.

~~~

“Being single sucks!” Yuuji complained with a whine after slamming his empty glass on the table.

“You should try those dating apps if you really want a girlfriend,” Fushiguro replied and flicked the ash off his cigarette on the ashtray.

“I agree, Itadori, if you really are determined to be in a relationship then you should try meeting new people.” Yuuta fanned the smoke Fushiguro blew towards him away using his hand with a forced smile.

Inumaki nodded in agreement, continuing to munch on the salted crackers and avoiding drinking.

“It’s easy for all of you with pretty girlfriends to say!” Panda cried, “It’s only me and Itadori who’s single.” He wrapped his big arms around Yuuji and started rocking back and forth.

“You can always book a flight to China to meet with a female Panda?” Yuuji said in a confused tone, “Or the zoo?”

Panda froze and loosened his arms around Yuuji before pushing him away from himself. “That was rude.”

“Huh?” Yuuji raised a brow, still confused.

“His type is more… humane, I think.” Yuuta scratched at his cheeks and raised his brows, hoping that Panda would deny what he just said but he didn’t.

“Wait.” Yuuji’s eyes widened, “So, you’re telling me that it would actually work between you and a human, or is it-”

“Itadori,” Fushiguro said to stop Yuuji from delving deeper into the uncomfortable topic. “Leave Panda’s love life alone.”

“Hmm, why did you bring up the topic of wanting to get a girlfriend?” Yuuta asked, humming thoughtfully. “Do you have someone you like?”

“Deja vu,” Panda mumbled under his breath, nobody heard him.

As soon as the question was asked to him, Yuuji thought of one single person; you. The image of your smile and your cheerful voice. It was just a simple crush, the two of you were total strangers. Yet, he was still thinking about you right now and couldn’t get you out of his mind.

He suppressed all of those thoughts and noticed how everyone was looking at him, waiting for his answer.

“No, I don’t,” Yuuji replied.

~~~

Unlike Sukuna, Yuuji was an inexperienced young man. He was a celibate too. Which meant that to him, sexual desires had to come after love. The feelings of love and affection were important when it came to sex. Having sex was an act of love and a form of affection, to prove to the person he was involved with that he was devoting himself to them.

Pathetic.

The kid had already grown up to be an adult but still had the mentality of a child.

Sukuna knew he could help.

~~~

“You’re coming here more often now,” Sukuna pointed out. “Is it because you know the server likes you?”

“No, she doesn’t like me,” Yuuji deadpanned. He pouted cutely seconds later and watched you walk over to his table holding a tray with his drink on it with a bright smile. “I’m here only because this place makes the best coffee.”

“Here you go,” you chirped, putting Yuuji’s drink on the table. Your friendly smile and gorgeous eyes wandered on his face for a moment longer than usual. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you.” He was blushing.

You flashed him another stunning smile before turning around on your heels.

“She’s into you,” Sukuna declared.

Yuuji ignored Sukuna’s words and stared after you as you walked back to the counter to take another order. His eyes couldn’t leave the way your hips moved with each step you took.

Sukuna’s lips on Yuuji’s hand grinned before disappearing.

~~~

“The girl looks like her,” Sukuna said.

“Will you be quiet?” Yuuji groaned and slapped his cheek so he would go away.

It was silent, he smiled to himself. Finally, he had some privacy.

The porn actress spread her legs and Yuuji wrapped his left hand around his cock after licking his palm as he was holding his phone with his right. He slid his fist up along his length and squeezed tightly towards the tip. The pressure felt the best when he applied it to the sensitive tip.

Loud moans coming from the actress filled his apartment since he hadn’t bothered to put on headphones. Not that he needed them when he was living alone but it was a habit now. So, he lowered the volume.

However, there was another reason why he didn’t need to hear the moans of the actress.

“She doesn’t sound like her, does she?” Sukuna made fun of him.

Yuuji ignored him and didn’t bother to tell him that it wasn’t the case. He just needed to cum and go to bed, that was it. He was too used to Sukuna interrupting his self-care time at this point and if the King of Curses didn’t mind watching a guy jerk off to some cheap porn, so be it. They were sharing Yuuji’s body and mind. Or not?

Yuuji focused on the video as the girl bent over and started fingering herself in an awkward position. His hand around his cock started moving to match the way her fingers went in and out of her cunt.

She really looked like you.

Wasn’t that why he had chosen this video?

Nevermind. Forget about it.

He had read or heard somewhere that masturbating with the non-dominant hand could give more pleasure. It was something he had done when he was only a teenager to try it out but now he liked to use his left hand.

It felt different, sometimes his hand went numb and it felt like someone else was touching him. You were touching him.

You.

This had to be how a handjob felt, if you ever gave him a handjob it would definitely feel like this.

Yuuji dropped the phone and closed his eyes, only focusing on his fantasies about you while jerking himself off. His hand moved faster while his hips were desperately thrusting up as if to mimic fucking you.

You would tease him, wouldn’t you? Stare at him with a grin, edge him and even slow down just to make him whine.

Or perhaps you would get rid of your clothes hurriedly to ease yourself down on his cock. Were you a virgin? You would be his first, he would want you to be your first too.

Were you the type to whimper or moan during sex?

Where would you place your hands?

Would you move your hips?

Which position would make you lose yourself?

He would want to be on top, so he could watch your face and kiss you.

What kind of face would you make?

Would you be blushing and moaning?

The image of your eyes overflowing with tears while your face was being stained with the same tears and your ruined makeup appeared within his mind.

Yuuji abruptly came harder than he ever had in his whole life and his seed landed on his stomach, his orgasm left his legs shaking in pleasure.

~~~

He didn’t go to the coffee shop the day after from embarrassment.

~~~

“You weren’t here yesterday,” you remarked while making his drink. “I was sure you were going to be here after I made you my new drink on the menu.”

“Ahh, I was just busy and didn’t have time to swing by.” It was a simple lie and it wasn’t like he could ever tell you that he was scared of himself after he came to his fantasy of seeing you cry. “I didn’t think you’d miss me this much.”

“Well, you’re my only loyal customer,” you pouted and put his drink on the counter. Nobody else was in the shop, another coffee place had opened just around the corner. “You always drink my special brew coffee too. It’s like an honor to me that you like my coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee I’ve ever had,” his reply was instantaneous and honest. “I like this place, I can tell how much love you put into making your drinks and it feels cozy here.”

You were grinning, “Mm, tell me more. Praise me more. What else?”

He started smirking but his blush ruined the smug face he was making. “Never mind, you’re weirding me out.”

“Hey! I was just asking you what else you like about my place! What’s weird about wanting to know how I can make this place better?” you feigned anger.

He wanted to tell you that he was only coming here for you. Wait, no. He came here for the coffee. Nothing else.

“What about making new drinks every week? They’d sell more and you’d get to try out new things?” he said after careful thinking.

“That’s actually a good idea, thank you, Itadori!”

Ahh, the way you said his name… Yuuji wanted to hear you say his name again and again. Over and over again.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, rubbing his neck nervously with his hand. “I’m just trying to help.”

~~~

It started with small words of encouragement.

“That woman likes you, I can tell from the way she smiles at you. Talk to her more and befriend her.”

“It’s not like you to say nice things,” Yuuji said, averting his gaze from yours in embarrassment when you looked his way. He hoped you hadn’t caught him looking. “Besides, she’s just a server. It’s her job to attract customers with a smile and sweet talk.”

“Every server needs a master,” Sukuna spoke through Yuuji’s hand. Nobody could see him since the guy had his hand pressed against his ear. “She doesn’t look at you the same way she looks at the other peasants here.”

Yuuji didn’t say anything.

~~~

His finger hovered over the follow button.

”That’s her?” Sukuna asked, his ancient soul was getting used to the technology he saw his vessel was using. “Those are her pictures?”

“Yeah.” Yuuji gulped, nodding languidly. It would be weird if he followed you, right? He had found your account by chance. Not because he found the account of your coffee shop and then scrolled through the following list to find a friend of yours and then searched through their following list to find your name to eventually find your account. Only by chance.

“She looks different in the pictures.” Sukuna was right. You were smiling as usual but you weren’t wearing your cafe uniform. You were wearing normal clothes. Clothes that revealed more of your skin, your shoulders, legs, thighs, and in some pictures your cleavage. There was a smug look on your face when you were looking at the camera as if you knew whoever was looking at these pictures was admiring your beauty.

“Yeah, she does.” He was now looking at a picture of you in a dress that fit you just right, showing your curves he hadn’t noticed in your uniform.

“She’s beautiful.” Sukuna could sense the intensity of his vessel’s stare at your picture.

“Yeah.”

“I’d save that picture if I were you.” Sukuna grinned.

Yuuji took a screenshot.

~~~

“You should be more assertive if you want her to consider you as a man,” Sukuna said as Yuuji was walking towards the coffee shop. “Women like confident men.”

“You come from the ancient times, this is the new age. Women are equal with men and I want her to feel-”

“Women want men. Not boys. Definitely not brats like you.” Sukuna disappeared when his vessel entered the coffee shop.

Yuuji sighed in a dismissive manner, “Whatever you say.”

~~~

Women want men.

~~~

“What do women like in a man?” Yuuji asked.

The happy laughter of the guys died out as soon as he asked that and the loud chatter of the other people inside the bar couldn’t fill the dead silence Yuuji created.

They were all looking at each other around the table now. Nobody wanted to talk.

“I guess they like guys who are assertive,” Yuuta responded when no one else did. “Megumi, why don’t you say something? What does your girlfriend like about you?”

Fushiguro was inanimate as he stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray and took a long moment to consider what he was going to say. “She said that likes that I’m possessive and get jealous when she talks to other guys.”

“Hmm, possessive and jealous...” Yuuta nodded and then turned to Inumaki. “And your girlfriend liked that she can depend on you, right?”

“Salmon.”

“There you have it,” Yuuta concluded. “They like possessive guys who they can depend on!”

“What about you, Okkotsu?” Yuuji asked. “What does your girlfriend like about you?”

The person in question looked a little lost and taken aback that he was being asked. He had to take a deep breath to keep his facial expressions normal. “She likes that I take control.”

“How?” Yuuji was desperate.

“Isn’t that a bit invasive question, Itadori?” Fushiguro warned in a soft tone.

“It’s not invasive at all!” Yuuta forced a laugh and spoke in the same joking manner. “It means that I was a little pushy and bold, I think?”

Both Fushiguro and Inumaki started agreeing.

“I see.” Yuuji realized that Sukuna was right.

~~~

“Isn’t that her picture?”

Yuuji ignored him and continued rubbing his cock.

His hand started moving faster, his eyes were trained on the picture of you, eyes roaming on your body and imagining how it would feel to run his hands along your curves.

“She looks like she’d love taking it from her ass.”

“Shut up, she’s not like that!” he immediately protested. His cheeks were bright red from shame. He had never done it to the pictures of the people he had met. Only celebrities. It didn’t feel right.

“She’s a woman. I know what women want and like.” Sukuna was confident. “I know exactly what she wants, unlike you.”

Yuuji tried blocking out the curse’s voice in his head and tightened his grip as well as his pace. He was imagining you again, eyes full of tears and you were twisting your body to push him weakly away with your tiny hands as he took you from behind.

Thanks to that fantasy, he came in an instant.

~~~

Yuuji was a good guy.

He was sacrificing his life to save others every day and he was going to be executed for the sake of saving humanity from the curses.

He could never be the bad guy.

~~~

“Welcome,” you chirped as soon as he walked through the door. “The usual?”

Yuuji awkwardly smiled and bowed his head to greet you. “Y-yeah.”

“Had a good day?” Turning around, you walked away from the counter to reach the coffee machine, disappearing from his view.

Yuuji made his way towards the counter and tried recalling how his day had been. He had exorcised a couple of curses and even got the opportunity to catch up with Fushiguro and his girlfriend when they ran into each other downtown. To put it simply, his day had been the worst. “It was a good day, how was yours?”

Dumb.

You were only making small talk because he was a regular here, nothing more. He knew people who worked in small coffee shops like this were always friendly to attract customers, to give a sense of home to people who come here for a drink or the tasty sweets. It was a marketing strategy.

“My day was tiring. I took your advice and put a new drink on the menu but apparently, it’s really good because everyone wanted to try it. However, the thing is… it’s so hard to make it!!” You appeared in front of him again with his drink and pointed behind you, at the menu displays. “I ran out of strawberries twice and had to call to ask my friend to go buy some from the store for me.”

“Woah, that sounds really exhausting!” he said in a tone to match your own while you were making a cutesy pouting face. “Hmm.” There was a momentary pause as he took his coffee from you and grinned. “I changed my mind, I also want to try this incredibly hard-to-make drink too.”

Your shoulders slacked and you gave an exaggerated sigh. “I thought you of all people would pity me…”

“I’m known for being ruthless,” he joked, chuckling. The smile on his face was genuine and he couldn’t stop smiling, it was as if he could never be in a bad mood around you. “But yes, I was joking. No need to call a friend to buy more strawberries or anything.”

You pointed a finger at him with mock threat and anger. “Don’t make fun of me or I won’t serve you again.”

“That’s better than threatening to spit in my coffee.” He tilted his head and shrugged.

“You said it as if I don’t do it all the time.” You raised a brow.

Both of you laughed but once the joke died out, there was an awkward silence.

“Anyway,” you said, gesturing towards one of the tables you clearly had wiped and cleaned because you were getting ready to close the place. “You can take a seat there if you wanna, I sadly have to finish up cleaning.”

When he looked around he could see that there was a mop you were planning to use. He didn’t want to disturb you any longer. It would be weird if he sat down when you were desperately trying to close the shop for the night.

It was rude and you were only being polite to him.

“I’ll drink this on the way home,” Yuuji replied with a nervous grin, and the tension from your shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Have a good evening!” you chirped after him as he turned around his heels.

“You too!” He exited the shop.

“Coward,” Sukuna spat.

“Please, be quiet.” Not again. Not this devil again.

“You could’ve fucked her against that counter. She was all over you, begging for you to make a move.” There was an undeniable smile in his voice.

“Be quiet, will you?” No. You were just an innocent girl. Someone who was nice to him because he came to buy coffee. He was just a customer.

“You, brat, are going to die as a celibate if you keep this up. Have you ever stick it inside a woman before? Do you have any idea of how heavenly a woman’s warmth is? The way they squirm and moan under you as they give you the look of an angel’s and beg for you to take it slow, cling onto you with tiny little hands-”

“Shut up!” Yuuji slammed the coffee on the concrete ground, his chest heaving in anger and frustration.

Some passersby stared at him and walked further away from where he was standing.

Sukuna disappeared with a smile.

Yuuji took a deep breath to calm himself.

~~~

The bells over the wooden door chimed, announcing his arrival.

“Hi!” you quickly yelled and appeared by the counter, your smile widened when you realized it was Yuuji. “The usual?”

“You don’t need to ask,” he replied, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He felt like himself in here, he felt at home.

“Did you have a good day?” you asked before disappearing behind the coffee machine.

“It was a bad day until I came here,” he said lumberingly, his cheeks flushed from nervousness. He was terrible at flirting.

You laughed, he couldn’t see your reaction but you sounded happy when you spoke. “Ahh, I’m glad I’m able to make you happy! It brings me joy when I manage to help others have a good day in one way or another!”

So kind and selfless.

The two of you were a perfect match.

Seconds later you were standing in front of him with his drink on top of the counter. “I hope you’ll have a great rest of the night, Itadori! I’m glad my coffee was able to help you feel better.”

He opened his mouth to say that it wasn’t the coffee that made him happy but he closed it when he realized how weird it would sound. “Thank you.”

~~~

“I like you and I think we should hang out sometime,” he said, smiling awkwardly. Seconds of silence passed and he slapped a hand on his face in embarrassment. After taking a deep breath he tried again. “Do you wanna go out for dinner this weekend?”

“You are acting like a brat,” Sukuna mocked. “Go up to her and tell her you to want to make her yours like a real man.”

Yuuji ignored him while staring at his reflection in the mirror and groaned. He hated when Sukuna said things that made sense.

His clothes were ironed and his hair was slicked back with the hair gel he had bought in a rush.

“You look pathetic.” Brutally honest, Sukuna’s voice had a tone of embarrassment in it. He was ashamed of living inside him.

“I look good.” Yuuji wasn’t going to let him ruin this moment. He was going to prove to everyone else that he could get the girl if he acted like himself. There was no need to be pretending something he wasn’t when it came to you. He knew you would want him to be honest.

“She’s going to reject you, brat. Don’t ridicule yourself and take my advice.”

“What’s your advice?” Yuuji scoffed, “Manhandle her?”

“You’re feeling the instinct of mating and lust,” Sukuna said. “You want to fuck her, you don’t want to make love to her or whatever the humans call it.”

“What?” Yuuji forced a smile on his face and laughed hysterically, “Are you even hearing what you’re saying?”

“Love isn’t real. Obsession, lust, and devotion are real though. You want to breed her. Don’t mix up libido with what peasants would call love.”

There was a grim pause.

“I like her,” Yuuji said. “She’s pretty and she seems like a nice person. Her smile is cute and-”

“Do whatever you want, brat,” Sukuna yawned, getting ready to disappear from Yuuji’s cheek. “Try not to throw a tantrum when you get rejected.”

“You were the one who told me to go up to her and make her mine?” Frustrated, Yuuji rolled his eyes in irritation.

“Making some woman yours doesn’t mean to woo her or make love to her. Are all brats the same as you? Don’t you know that women are pleasure dolls for men? They live to please men.” Sukuna was getting serious, he raised his voice with each sentence. “Women are like fish, they don’t have feelings.”

“That’s not true.” Yuuji’s voice got a little weaker than he had intended to. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t sound like he was denying what Sukuna had said and trying to convince himself that wasn’t the truth instead.

Sukuna disappeared from his cheek with a malicious grin.

Shaking his head to gather his thoughts, Yuuji quickly walked out of his room and exited his apartment.

It took him twenty minutes to get to the coffee shop when it usually took him barely ten minutes. He had gotten flowers for you. Not really sure which ones to get, he had chosen one of the pink and red bouquets on display. He was nervous and sweating. He had to wipe his palms down on his jeans to keep them dry way too many times, he had stopped counting after the seventh time.

He stood outside of the cafe, trembling in excitement. There weren't any windows at your coffee shop thus he couldn’t see if there were any customers inside. He could only hope that it would be just the two of you alone since there was something very special he needed to tell you.

I love you.

He grabbed the handle and opened the door. You were behind the counter, looking down at your phone. As soon as the bells over the door chimed you put it away and smiled, “Welcome!”

I love you.

Yuuji’s grip tightened around the bouquet he was holding, his cheeks started burning in nervousness.

“Woahh, you’re going on a date?” you asked while he walked up to the counter, your voice was as cheerful as ever. “I couldn’t recognize you, should I give you the usual?”

“Uhh, no.” He paused. When both of you stared at each other he realized how awkward and confusing his answer was. “Um, it’s not a date but I’m gonna ask the girl I like out.” His face was turning beet red.

“Aww, that’s so adorable! She’s so lucky, you’ve even bought her flowers, so cutee!!” You pressed a hand over your chest, feigning being hurt. “Ahh, my heart can’t handle it.”

“Y-yeah.” He blushed harder, shifting his weight on his feet nervously. “She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

“You better treat her right then and I hope she’ll say yes.” You didn't miss the eyes on you and continued smiling in discomfort. “The usual?” you asked once it started getting a little too quiet and he nodded.

The uncomfortable silence started making Yuuji reconsider what to say or if he should say them at all. You put his coffee on the counter before he could take his time thinking.

“Is that all?” you asked as you were putting his order’s total into the cash register.

I love you.

“N-no,” he replied in a quiet voice while reluctantly taking out his wallet to pay for his coffee.

“I hope you have a lovely night, Itadori. Go get the girl!” you cheered him on with a cute smile.

“Actually,” he started, looking at you with his flushed cheeks and fidgeting with his fingers. “Ahh, (name), I wanted to tell you something.”

“Hmm, what is it?” You were smiling, watching him in confusion.

Yuuji decided that he shouldn’t beat around the bush at this moment because he wanted to seem confident. He knew if he didn’t spit it out now or else he would never say it. He had to get to the point and dive in ahead without any hesitation.

“I like you.”

Lifting the bouquet, he held it up towards you as you looked at him and then at the bouquet repeatedly with wide eyes but you didn’t seem shocked.

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again.

“I mean, you’re such a nice person and I found myself always looking forward to seeing you. I think about you all the time and I can’t get you out of my head. I used to hate it here, it’s a large city with too many people… but then you took over this shop, and now I… don’t hate it that much.”

He was saying all that with a puffed chest and a big goofy grin on his face, his cheeks were blushing as he tried not to look nervous. However, when he saw the way your smile curled down to a frown as he kept on talking, it felt like someone poured iced water down his head.

Yuuji couldn’t breathe.

“Um, that’s flattering,” you said, forcing a smile on your face and taking the bouquet from him. “Were these for me?”

“Y-yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

You nodded languidly, noticing that you were the girl he wanted to ask out. “I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, I really appreciate it.” You couldn’t find the words that wouldn’t hurt him.

Gradually, he noticed how uncomfortable you looked and his smile disappeared from his face.

“I’m sorry but I’m not looking for a relationship, I’m really busy with working and taking care of this cafe but I appreciate your feelings.” You averted your gaze from him for a moment, a scoff left your lips. Were you laughing at him? “I apologize if my affable demeanor gave you the wrong idea but sadly I can’t return your feelings.”

He looked down to his feet to pull himself together, an icy shiver ran through him as he spoke. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

So childish.

“Of course,” you said, forcing a chuckle.

“I hope we can still be friends, I wouldn’t wanna lose you.” Yuuji was desperate, he couldn’t imagine a life without you.

“Of course!” you repeated with a louder forced chuckle. “I don’t want this to ruin our friendship!”

“Me neither.” He couldn’t lift his head or move, his body had turned to stone.

The pauses started to grow longer and eerily quiet. You were the one who spoke next.

“Thank you so much, Itadori, I’m flattered by your confession and I hope we can be close friends!” Pressing the bouquet on your chest and hugging it with both arms, you used a soft tone to talk to him. “I need to close down and catch the train home, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah…” Yuuji turned around and walked out of the cafe without saying anything else, leaving the coffee he had paid for on the counter.

“I told you, didn’t I, brat?” Sukuna mocked, voice full of mischief as he appeared on his vessel’s cheek.

“Leave me alone,” Yuuji hissed. He was walking away from the coffee shop, not going home though, not yet. He needed to calm down.

“Women want to be ordered around, brat. They want men to take control. If you act like a brat, they won’t see you as a man.”

Yuuji’s breath hitched upon hearing Sukuna’s words. His knees started feeling weaker than they ever could but he had to stand proud, assert his dominance over the King of Curses and collect himself.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he was in this situation, it wasn’t fair that he was rejected, it wasn’t fair that he was cursed to live in despair. He was eventually going to get executed and he hadn’t had a youth where he fulfilled any of his dreams. He had wanted only one thing, to feel happy with one person and that childish wish must have been too much to ask. Not only he got rejected but now he had Sukuna making fun of him.

“You must be a man and make her yours.”

“She told me she didn’t want a relationship.” Yuuji couldn’t deal with him anymore. “We’re friends.”

“Do you want a woman for yourself or not, brat?” Sukuna sighed in irritation before humming thoughtfully. “I’ll help you,” he offered generously, “I’ll help you make her yours.”

“Leave me alone, Sukuna.” Yuuji was getting angrier, and soon he started to tremble in rage.

“Let me help you to get a taste of a woman, brat.”

“She rejected me-”

“She’s just playing hard to get. A woman like her wants to be chased. She didn’t tell you to get lost because she wants you to keep coming back to her so you’ll continue to give her your attention. That girl would spread her legs for anyone who gives her attention if she wasn’t a prude. She’s a virgin, that must be why she’s acting like this. I can smell it, the blood that’s yet to bleed once her innocence is taken. You need to take it, brat.”

“You want me to rape her, is that it?” Yuuji spat, he had never thought he would say those words out loud.

“I never said that, brat.” Sukuna let out a chuckle, lying. “Let me show you what I mean.”

“I’m not letting you take over my body,” he replied coldly.

“I don’t want to take over your body, that woman is yours,” Sukuna assured.

“Then, what do you want me to do?” Yuuji asked.

Sukuna grinned viciously, “Let's go back to where she works first.”

~~~

“Itadori-”

The door closed after him with a soft click.

You let out a frustrated sigh and pressed the bouquet against your chest, hugging them tightly.

That hadn’t gone well at all.

Your eyes landed on the coffee he forgot to take with him on the counter. “I’m the worst,” mumbling, you put the flowers on the counter to prepare the cafe for closing.

You took the paper coffee mug and poured it out, the dark liquid went down the sink as you watched, hypnotized and lost in your thoughts.

That guy… He wasn’t like any other you met. He was adorable and matched your energy like no other person ever had. You enjoyed being around Itadori and you were glad he felt the same but… he knew you for less than two weeks. He was clearly confused, he had made a friend who he managed to click instantly and mistook his feelings for love.

Nonetheless, you felt terrible. It was never easy to reject someone, especially when you were so busy trying to manage the coffee shop of your dreams you finally got to open.

Itadori had to understand that. He would understand, right?

Oh, he had looked so excited and nervous. He had even slicked his messy hair back and brought flowers…

You hoped he would get over it quickly or at least, he would come to the shop tomorrow so you could comfort him. The two of you needed to talk a little more, you needed for him to know that you didn’t want to break his heart. You felt the need to apologize, ahh, so stupid. You hadn’t even done anything wrong.

It hurt though.

It still hurt.

You hated making other people feel bad. You wanted to be the reason behind their smiles and laughter, not tears.

Packing your stuff and turning off the lights, you left the shop. The door was locked two times as usual before you hurried down the street towards the subway.

The station was packed more than usual and you immediately regretted not listening to your friend’s advice on renting that one apartment down the block. But complaining right now wasn’t going to get you home.

You hopped on the train and shielded the bouquet with your arms wrapped around it as you tried not to get crushed by the swarm of people getting on the train. Once the doors closed, you had successfully managed to find a place by the train door with a little space so you could avoid getting the bouquet crushed.

Facing the doors, you stared out the small window, it was dark but every second or another a light would zoom in and out. You weren’t sure if they were there for navigating or not but you found yourself too focused on the lights as the sudden brake of the train made you stumble forward.

When you regained your balance to stand up straight, there was someone behind you. They were a little too close but it was nothing out of the ordinary, you always found yourself being pressed against other people during rush hours in the subway.

At the next stop, the doors on the opposite side opened and another swarm of people filled the train. Now, the person behind you was trapping you between their body and the door that was in front of you.

You were showing extra carefulness to not let the bouquet get crushed, you wanted to take it home in one piece without anything happening to it. These flowers were beautiful, they smelled amazing too. You wanted to cherish them even if you hadn’t managed to cherish Itadori’s feelings.

As you were inspecting the bouquet you saw a small card that was attached to one of the flowers. You checked it and realized what it was.

It was Itadori’s phone number and a cute little heart drawn next to it with a small message.

‘I’d love to hear more of your voice and complaints about work in private!!’

You didn’t realize you were smiling at the note until something brought you out of your trance.

A voice to be exact.

“Your lover got them to you?” A husky voice asked.

Lifting your head, you stared at the small window. From the almost transparent reflection on the window, you could see that the guy behind you had talked. You couldn’t see his face from his hoodie covering his features but you could tell that he was talking to you.

“Um, not really,” you replied. It wasn’t abnormal to you that other people made small talk to you, you talked to strangers more than anyone else every day. You always overshared anyway. “They are from a close friend.”

“He must love you.” There was an undeniable smile in his voice.

You forced a chuckle, looking down in front of you. “Y-yeah.”

When the train braked abruptly, he got closer. “Touch her-” It was a whisper from the same guy, you were unable to make out the words clearly but you decided to ignore him for the rest of the ride. You needed to get off in twenty minutes and were too tired to act friendly.

That was when you felt the back of his hand brushing against your ass.

You froze, before you could call it an accident and blame it on the crowded train, he pressed the back of his hand more purposefully on the soft flesh.

Fear paralyzed your body and you found yourself at a loss of words. You didn’t know what to do, you wanted to move away but you were trapped between him and the door.

“You’re not gonna ask for help?” he asked, leaning forward to mock you.

It was too humiliating and you were unable to think of anything. Somehow, you shook your head to tell him to stop because your voice wouldn’t come out. You pressed the bouquet harder against your chest in panic, praying to whoever was listening that the guy would stop.

You heard him say something but every other voice was muffled now, it was as if your ears were filled with cotton.

The only thing you did was to hope that you could muster up the courage to push him away and get out on the next stop.

Why was this happening to you?

Why?

“See, I told you.” Sukuna scoffed as Yuuji’s entire face was beet red. “She’s not even gonna ask for help because she wants you to continue.”

Yuuji saw your blushed cheeks in the reflection in the window, you were breathing heavily and standing still.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

When Sukuna convinced him to follow you into the subway train and let him do the talking, he was conflicted because he wasn’t sure what the King of Curses wanted to prove but now, he knew.

“Women live to be conquered by men,” Sukuna concluded, “Do you understand it now or should I elaborate more?”

Yuuji was quiet.

“She’ll bend down and beg for you to fuck her right now if you continue touching her.”

You wouldn’t.

Right?

Using his whole hand, Yuuji groped your ass while trembling from dismay but he couldn’t forethought the way you reacted being anything other than screaming for help or pushing him away.

Instead of fighting back or doing anything he had thought you would, you mewled and stayed exactly where you were.

They were all right.

Fushiguro, Inumaki and Yuuta. They were all right.

Sukuna was more than right. He had been trying to help him but Yuuji was too blind to see it.

“Check her cunt, I bet she’s soaking wet.” Sukuna had said to mock his vessel. He didn’t expect for him to move his hand between your legs and under your skirt to press his fingers against your clothed pussy. Neither did you.

Letting out a squeal, you hunched forward, pressing your legs together in panic as his digits moved along your clothed slit that was completely damp.

He started rubbing his fingers between your folds, your juices soaked your panties and made sloppy sounds each time he moved his digits.

“I can hear it from here, did you wet yourself, or are you this wet for me?” Sukuna laughed audibly.

You shook your head, slouching further down and trying to move away from Yuuji’s hands.

“Women aren’t good liars,” Sukuna said as Yuuji slouched forward with you and pressed himself against your ass. “You’re aching to have a cock inside you, no?”

“Please,” you begged. You wanted him to stop.

“Oh, look, she’s asking so politely to be filled with a cock.” Sukuna made fun of your misery while watching the brat finally grow into a man.

Yuuji was sure Sukuna had taken over his body because he would never hump the girl he liked as he was fingering her over her clothes in a train. In public, he reminded himself, in a train and in public where nobody seemed to care.

His hands were moving on their own, he hooked a finger under the elastic edge of your panties to pull them to the side.

“W-wait, please,” you whispered in a weak voice, finally using a hand to grab his wrist to try to pull him away from your pussy. You weren’t strong or convincing enough though.

Yuuji slipped his fingers inside you and grinded his growing erection against your ass, earning a surprised moan out of you.

The hand that was grabbing his wrist immediately went to cover your mouth to suppress your voice as he started humping you to deliberately mimic fucking you.

“Please, stop…” Your voice was fainter than a whisper behind your hand.

“You say that but you’re pitifully trembling in anticipation.” His lips were brushing against the shell of your ear but it was as if he wasn’t using his mouth to talk.

“I’m not…” You pressed your legs together and trapped his hand between your thighs while he twirled his digits around inside you.

“Lying isn’t cute, you know.” There was a smile in his deep voice, “Come on try harder to lie and make me believe you don’t want it.” He dragged his tongue along the shell of your ear, earning a surprised but muffled moan from you.

Yuuji brought his other hand up to cup your breast over your shirt, his cock was painfully hard against his jeans, and the knowledge of him touching his crush was too much for him to handle. He could cum in his pants if he wasn’t careful enough. Sukuna was saying the most vulgar things to you but instead of pushing him away, you were staying exactly where you were. It was fascinating to see how much you were begging to be touched.

It disturbed him a little, would you let any stranger touch you like this? Would you be this wet for anyone?

Yuuji didn’t want to know the answer but Sukuna did.

“Come on, be honest. Would you be this keen to be fucked by any man or is it because it’s me?” Sukuna asked, he was barely holding himself to switch with the brat, he loved corrupting innocent souls like you. He loved seeing the painful and pathetic cries they would let out as their faces were stained with tears.

You shook your head rapidly as his fingers inside you curled to rub a sweet spot you didn’t know existed.

“So, does that mean you wouldn’t want to be fucked by anyone but me?” Sukuna laughed while Yuuji let out a low groan, grinding harder against your ass, humping you roughly.

“N-nooo,” you were sobbing now, tears started running down your cheeks.

“Good girl… You’re finally being honest. You hear that? She would never want to be fucked by anyone but me.”

“T-that’s not what I meant…”

It was fun to tease girls like you. Sukuna could feel your fear and took incredible joy from hearing your voice crack. “Now, that’s cute… I wanna hear you cry out my name in your cute voice too.”

Yuuji groaned, shaking his head as if Sukuna was going to listen to him.

“S-Sukuna,” he mocked your crying. “Come on, say it just like that and beg for me to fuck you.”

Your body was shaking in fear, your cries only spurred him on and you didn’t know what to do. “P-please stop, S-Sukuna.” The way you whimpered his name, there was no way Sukuna could hold back.

“You better take her innocence before I do it myself, brat.” Sukuna was a man of his word, he had promised the brat to not touch you but if he didn’t man up and fucked you here, he would have no choice but to do it himself. He would never let a girl’s innocence go to waste. The blood of purity was something holy for curses like him. It was the nectar of the gods from the most ancient times, something that could only be attained by the perfect innocent virgins.

“Don’t you dare,” Yuuji spat, speaking for the first time. “She’s mine.”

You didn’t hear him though. His fingers were thrusting in and out of you vigorously while he was humping you and fondling your tit. Your walls clenched around his digits as he moved his hand on your chest between your bodies to impatiently pull the front of his pants down.

Realizing what was about to happen when he finally pulled his cock free and hiked your skirt up, you stared at your reflection on the window, crying and begging him to stop.

Yuuji froze momentarily, pulling his fingers out of you. He could see your expression in the window but you couldn’t see his face. He was stunned by seeing your cheeks wet with tears and mascara running down to ruin more of your makeup, it was… it was purely so erotic and better than his fantasies.

He slammed his hips forward and buried the entire length of his cock in your pussy.

Your virgin walls squeezed tightly around him and the sharp pain of your hymen being torn made fresh tears run down your cheeks. Your hand covering your mouth went to the door in front of you to keep your balance because of the ferocity of his thrust. Your lips parted to scream in pain but his fingers being shoved inside your mouth stopped you.

You tasted your bitter juices on his fingers as he twirled them around your tongue, catching the muscle between his knuckles.

Yuuji felt lightheaded by the fact that he was actually having sex with his crush, on top of all that, you were both each others’ first. He knew he was going to cherish this memory forever and even though he would have liked to do it in a bed with the lights off, this was fine too.

It didn’t matter where he was as long as he had his cock inside of you.

With a moan, he staggeringly pulled his hips back to abruptly slam into your pussy. The blood of your innocence acted as a lubricant, made it easier for him to slip inside, and made a sloppy sound each time he thrust inside.

You could feel his entire weight settle on your back while he nuzzled against the side of your neck before he shakily licked the sensitive skin to get a taste of you. Instinctively, you tried moving your head away from his mouth but his fingers in your mouth prevented you. To put it simply, you were trapped and were at his mercy.

He picked up a discreet but still desperate pace to fuck you, he was still cautious of the two of you being in public but he was still delirious to be having sex with you. Sex. Did it always feel this good? Were you feeling good too? You wanted it, he knew you did because you told Sukuna you wanted it.

Slamming his hips forward, he knocked the air out of your lungs, you gasped on his fingers, drooling all over yourself from having your mouth forcefully kept open by his long digits.

Yuuji was hopeless to mark his territory, to mark you as his. He wanted everyone to know that you belonged to someone when they looked at you. You were his and only his.

His cock grew bigger inside you at the thought of him owning you. He started fucking you frantically, no longer bothering if the people around had noticed or not. Your cunt tightened around his cock and you felt his teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of your neck. He bit hard, hard enough to draw blood and leave you trembling in numbing pain.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the tip of his cock hit a sweet spot and your legs shook uncontrollably under you, they were struggling to carry your weight.

His teeth sank deeper into your flesh and you dropped the bouquet you were holding against your chest to involuntarily arch your back instead. He chewed on your skin as he felt your virgin walls pulsate around his cock, you were begging to be filled with his seed, weren’t you?

Women were nothing but a bunch of breeding holes anyway. They all acted like innocent angels when deep down they all were whores. Pleasure toys for men. They lived to please men, didn’t they?

You lived to please Yuuji, didn’t you?

Yuuji pulled his hand out from your mouth and stopped biting you. He licked the blood from your neck to focus on fucking you with frenzied thrusts instead. All of his inexperience and desperation were behind his thrusts, along with his entire weight, forcing you to take the very shape of his cock and never forget the girth of it.

Continuing to peppering small kisses on your neck, he started angling his hips just right to hit the spot that made your knees unbuckle. One, two, three thrusts, and your legs were a shaking mess. You moaned in response before he wrapped an arm around you to keep you up on your feet.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Sukuna spoke suddenly, startling both of you. “You shouldn’t hold back anymore.”

Yuuji wasn't sure which one of you he was talking to but he kept on nodding and moving his hips.

“Nobody else is going to hear you, give me an honest answer,” Sukuna was chuckling. “How does it feel?”

How does it feel to be fucked?

How does it feel to be fucked on a train?

How does it feel to be fucked in public?

How does it feel to have your innocence taken away?

How does it feel to indulge the darker parts of your mind?

Yuuji’s hips stuttered when your walls clenched around him tightly as you refused to answer.

“I won’t know how it feels if you don’t tell me, (name).”

Your mouth popped open and you moaned upon hearing your name. How did he know your name?

As soon as he thrust into your pussy, you forgot about it and let out a moan.

Were you always this depraved?

He continued fucking you frantically. His pace was faster and more ruthless, he was close. With each thrust of his hips, he left you moaning in involuntary pleasure but there was no denying that it felt good.

It felt so good.

“Tell me, (name).”

It felt so good.

“Come on, tell me.”

“Please,” you begged. It feels so good. Feels so good.

“That’s not what I wanna hear,” Sukuna murmured. “Come on now.”

The automated voice announced the next stop.

“Hurry it up already.” He was getting impatient.

“It feels so good,” you whimpered, defeated.

“Good girl,” Sukuna grinned before disappearing from Yuuji’s cheek.

The shame overwhelmed all of your senses and you looked at your reflection in the window once more, you caught a glimpse of your aroused expression. You were such a whore.

Yuuji slammed his hips forward one last time and you felt the small twitch of his balls against your skin before his cock twitched, spurting thick ropes of cum inside you.

The train stopped and he pulled out of you.

His seed started gushing out of your pussy before starting to trickle down your legs. Most of the bodily fluid had pooled under you and when you fell hard on the ground, they soaked into your skirt.

The guy who assaulted you was nowhere to be seen as the doors of the train on the other side opened. Many people hopped off the train but nobody paid any attention to you and you were sure they had been oblivious to what had happened. Nobody would care anyway.

A sob tore out of you and you tried getting up. Your legs were like jelly but as you managed to stand up, you noticed the bouquet you had dropped. More tears started to come out, they blurred your vision and you found yourself grabbing it from the ground.

Thankfully, it wasn’t crushed.

The train doors closed and it started moving forward while you were trying to fix your skirt.

Ah, that was your stop…

You sobbed again but pressed a hand over your mouth to not disturb anyone. Your crying didn’t stop even after you got off of the train on the next stop. You wanted to call someone to help you get back home because you weren’t sure if you could make it alone. Your legs were hurt, the throbbing pain coming from between your legs wouldn’t let you walk or stand up.

You weren’t going to tell them what had happened. Nobody could know. You didn’t need their pity. You were too ashamed.

Sitting on a bench, you scrolled down your contacts but none of the names there would help you. Not unless they had something to gain from it. Wasn’t that why you dropped everything and moved here to open a coffee shop?

How pathetic of you.

People only used you for your kindness.

You shifted on your seat and something slipped out from the bouquet. When you picked it up, you noticed that it was the note Itadori had written for you.

There was an ugly pause before you dialed the unknown number and a familiar voice responded.

“Hey,” he sounded awkward. Of course, he would, you rejected him. “What’s up?”

“Itadori,” you whimpered, voice cracking. Immediately, you cursed yourself for being this pathetic.

“A-are you o-okay? W-what happened?”

Bursting into tears once again, you only told him that you only needed help in shame after clearing your throat.

It took him barely fifteen minutes to arrive at the station to get you. You wiped your tears as soon as he came into your view. He was breathless, face beet red from running.

“You okay?” he asked in between breaths. “I ran here as fast as I could.”

He ran here.

Has anyone cared for you this much?

“Yeah, thank you and ahh, I… This is embarrassing… I twisted my ankle and needed help getting home.” You were never a good liar but you hoped he was gullible enough to believe it. “I know it’s weird to call you here but none of my friends would come if I called-”

“Ah, it’s no problem!” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and chuckled. He had been worried for nothing. “I can carry you, that’s what friends are for, right?!”

You nodded and bit your lip to prevent yourself from crying. He was too kind. Too similar to you.

“Want me to carry you on my back? Or like this?” He emphasized his words by holding his hands in front of himself to show you that he was offering to carry you bridal style.

“Yeah, that would be better.” You masked the shame with a fake smile. You were embarrassed that you were pathetic to ask him for help even after you rejected him earlier tonight.

He smiled and took a step closer towards the bench. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he slid his arm under the back of your knees and placed a hand on your back to support you as he lifted you up to take you home.

You were grateful that you had a friend like him in your life.

~~~

The next day Yuuji came to the coffee shop to take your offer from the last night about giving him a free coffee drink of his choice.

You served him his coffee with a smile and sat with him on one of the tables, talking about your day as he listened to you complain.

In the end, Sukuna was right, Yuuji realized.

Women were begging to be fucked. Women secretly wanted it and that was why you were acting indifferent after all that happened the day before.

He had been worried over nothing, besides, he needed to be more confident and assertive like everyone told him to be. Then he would get the girl. That was what every article he read online, all of his friends and people around him told him. That was what Sukuna told him.

“Wanna go get dinner after you close the place?” he asked, taking a mouthful of his coffee.

“I need to clean and it might take a long while-”

“I’ll help,” he replied, smiling. “Everything’s on me.”

How could you say no to that? How could you say no to anything he had to say?

In your eyes, he was the nicest guy in the world.

Were you really going to pass on the opportunity to have him in your life?

“It’s a date then?” You were grinning, cheeks flushing as you said it. Slowly, you placed your hand over his on the table.

Yuuji gave you a blank stare, something sinister sparkled deep within his eyes but you couldn’t see it. Unbeknownst to you, his other hand under the table had a mouth on it that had an unsettling grin on it too. It was funny how clueless you were. Nonetheless, Yuuji took your hand in his to give you a reassuring squeeze and made you blush harder before agreeing, “It’s a date.”

#idk if i should tag this with the characters tbh this was too dark for me...#i won't tag it cuz i don't want anyone reading this lmao anywayy #i know my endings suck but yeah <3 #panda x munkey fic coming up next <333 #anywayyyy going inactive again byeeee <3

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openforjean · 4 years

Text

aren’t you a pretty thing?

dark!bucky barnes x innocent!fem!reader

warnings: +18, dark fic, stalking, handjob, manipulation, praise kink, sexual thoughts, daddy kink, mentions of breeding, oral sex, anal sex, I think I got everything??

a/n: for my queen @sultrygoblin hope u like it

The smell of popcorn, the screams of riders and laughs of children run by-still doesn’t distract Bucky from you.

Ever since he saw you at the library, a year ago. He’s followed you everywhere. Your job, stores you visit and your home. He even watched you celebrate your twentieth birthday from his car.

Bucky’s eyes trail your body, slowly. Those white stockings make your skin tone pop. His eyes spend a little more time on your legs, he licks his lips. Your skirt barely reaches your mid thigh, his eyes shift to your backside.

He can just imagine pounding you from the back.

“Say it, sweetheart. Say you want my cock,” Bucky says, gripping your hips from behind. You whimper and respond “I want your cock daddy, please, please fuck me”. Bucky doesn’t waste a second, he penetrates your sweet, virgin hole and pounds into you.

His thought is interrupted by a ballon popping from a nearby game booth. His eyes snap back to you and you’re now sitting at a bench...all alone. This is Bucky’s time to bite.

Bucky makes his way to you and sits on the other side of the bench. His arms spread and “accidentally” brushes against you.

You look at him and he quickly mumbles an apology.

“It’s okay,” you say. Bucky nods. And from the corner of his eye, his eyes trail up your thigh. He groans and adjusts his jeans. “Your friends ditch ya?” Bucky asks. This is the riskiest question yet. “No, no, this boy stood me up. He was supposed to meet me here and he isn’t showing,” you answer, with your head down. Bucky tusks and tilts his head at you. “Boys are shit. Get yourself a man, all boys do is fuck everything up. A man with experience, will show you a good time,” Bucky says.

“Oh, well, I don’t...know any ‘men’, but I guess you’re right about boys,” you admit. “You know me, remember?” Bucky says.

“Umm, I don’t think I’ve met you before...I might’ve forgotten, what’s your name?” You ask.

Gotcha.

“Bucky. We met at that party,” he says. You nod, “wh-what party? Anthony’s?” you ask.

“Yeah! Crazy party wasn’t it?” Bucky asks. Bucky doesn’t know who Anthony is, all he knows is that he now has you in his grasp. “Must’ve been, I wouldn’t know. I left early,” you answer.

Good girl.

“Don’t be sad about the boy, he probably wouldn’t have showed you a good time,” Bucky says to ease your heart. You nod. “Wanna get out of here? I can take ya home,” Bucky offers. You smile and your heart melts. No guy has been this sweet to you. “Sure, thanks Bucky,” you say. Bucky stands up and you follow him to his car.

Walking to his car felt magical. The sunset was pink, the smell of cotton candy filled the air. He opens the door and you get in, he closes the car door. You strap yourself in as he makes his way over to the drivers seat. He gets in but he doesn’t start the car.

“Bucky? What’s going on? Is everything okay?” You ask with panic growing in your voice. He looks at you with a a sympathetic look. “I guess, I just feel bad that you’re not having fun. You came here to go on a date and have fun, and you’re not having fun. I’m sorry, I just feel bad,” Bucky says. “It’s okay, I’m still having fun! It’s not your fault, we can have fun together. We don’t need to be here, it’s okay, I promise,” you affirm him.

“As long as you’re sure,” Bucky says, gripping the wheel. “I’m sure, we can have fun at...my place, if you want. I have some board games, I can make us some cookies too...” you offer. You don’t know him and you’re inviting him to your place. What’s got into your head?

The drive to your place is relaxing. The windows are rolled down, the radio plays smooth jazz and his car smells like cologne. You look at him as his eyes watch the road. His hair, his arms and thighs, so pleasant to look at. His hair flows, his veins flex, his metal arm shines and his thighs look so good to ride. Your feel your private part tingles and you shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together.

“I live on Maple, by the way. Good thing you’re already heading the right way,” you say. Bucky’s eyes widen and he nods. “Good thing, right?” He says. He’s slacking already, ah, what you do to him. “Thank you for taking me home, I really appreciate it. And thanks for cheering me up, I feel better. All because of you,” you say, looking up at him with the most innocent pair of eyes. He gulps and shifts in his seat. “Of course, anytime,” he says.

He makes the stop at your house and the driveway is full. Your parents must be home, shit. You undo the seat belt and look at him once more with those eyes. “Thanks again, the offer still stands to come inside,” you say. He wishes that meant something else but he’ll take what he can get. “I don’t know, seems like you have a packed house.”

“No, no, no! Come in, my family doesn’t mind, you’re a friend now. The least I can do is treat you for taking me home and making me feel better,” you assure. Bucky would love to go inside, but he doesn’t want to risk your parents becoming suspicious. “Okay,” he says.

“Mom, dad, this is Bucky. My friend, he drove me home cause that boy stood me up,” you announce. Your parents smile and thank him. Your parents are just as naive as you, huh sweetheart? Your parents head to the porch to talk and you and Bucky head to your room. Bucky is much more at ease knowing your parents are just like you. He enters your room after you and his heart flutters.

You’re so cute.

White walls, medals from former extracurricular activities, paintings and stuffed animals. A white and gold vanity, golden bed with fluffy white sheets. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air. Your curtains are light, you can see right through them.

“I have Uno, Sorry, Dominoes and-”

“‘S okay doll,” Bucky says. Your mouth parts as he paces around. “Are you okay, Bucky?” You ask. He stops and spins to face you. “No, I need to tell you something and I get it if you don’t feel the same or want me to leave. I will. But...ever since I met you that night, I-I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And when I saw you at the carnival, I knew I had to make a move and talk to you. I spent weeks trying to forget about you and I couldn’t. My mind couldn’t seem to forget you, I don’t think I can...forget you,” Bucky confesses to you. You stand in awe and your heartbeat quickens.

He likes me. A really, really cute guy, likes me! What do I do? I mean, he’s cute and is very nice and friendly. He hasn’t done anything wrong, and he met your parents and they seem to like him. He’s already passed the test, basically. What’s the harm in going out with him?

“You like me, like me?” You ask, stepping closer to him. His nose brushes yours and he nods. “I do, a lot. And if this going too fast, we can slow down. Don’t wanna rush you into anything you’re not ready for,” he says. Your heart pounds and your minds spins from excitement. Someone likes you! You smile and you lean in to kiss him. When his lips touch yours, fireworks went off in your body. Your heart flutters and stomach flips, you feel like you’re in a different dimension. You pull away and wipe your mouth, and you shy away from his gaze. “Don’t look away pretty girl, that was a good kiss. Was that your first one?” He asks.

“No, it’s my second,” you answer with a smirk. He smiles and pulls you to your bed to sit.

“What do you wanna do now Bucky?” You ask, sitting next to him. Bucky stares into your eyes, lovingly. He doesn’t blink. You begin to feel uncomfortable, and your stomach stirs.

There’s a lot he wants to do with you.

He wants to see your body. Kiss every inch, make love to it.

He wants to taste your lips. Have ‘em around his cock and have them on his. Your sweet, pretty lips.

He wants to eat you out til you cry. Swirl his tongue around your clit and finger fuck your tight cunt.

He wants to fuck you. So, so, so bad. He wants to stretch you out and have you scream his name. Cum in in you, raw. Knowing he can knock you up with his baby.

He wants to make love to that sweet, little pussy too.

And of course anal. Thinking about fucking your ass makes him shudder.

But we have to climb to get to the top, so for right now. He’ll just have a little fun and have you jerk him off.

“I want you on your knees,” Bucky says, his breath hits your lips. “My-my knees? Why?” You ask.

You are innocent.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Bucky coos. “Okay,” You say. You get on your knees, willingly and you flatten your skirt. He licks his lips. Bucky moves his hands to his belt and undoes it, he unbuttons his pants and pulls his zipper down. Bucky’s hand reaches into his pants and pulls his half hard member out. His cock is thick, veiny and uncut. Bucky pumps his cock, with pre-cum leaking from his tip creating a mess around his cock and hand.

You stare at his cock, this is the first time you’re seeing one too.

“Touch it,” he whispers. You reach for his cock, you grip his shaft.

He sucks a breath in between his teeth.

“Does it feel good?” You ask, as you slowly pump his shaft.

“Yes, it feels very good,” Bucky says with his eyes glued to your sparkling ones. You’re so cute. Pumping his dick like a good girl, your hand feels so good too. “Faster baby, you have to make me cum, I’m almost there,” he says. You pump his cock faster and you fondle his balls in with your hand. “Shit baby, you’re so good. You’re gonna make me cum,” Bucky says. Your thighs clench together and you bite your lip. “You like that huh? You wanna make me cum? You wanna make daddy cum?” Bucky asks as his mouth falls open.

“Yes I do, I wanna taste it. Is that okay? Can I taste your cum?” You ask.

“Yeah baby, you can taste my cum. You’re not only gonna taste it, I’m gonna dump it in you. Over and over again, full you up with my cum just like the s sweet baby you are,” Bucky says. Bucky’s eyes shut and his mouth spills curses as he releases in your hand. You don’t stop pumping him, Bucky grabs your wrist and stops you. Breathing heavily, he says “taste my cum baby”.

You take a lick of his cum in your finger. You like his cum clean off. “What do you think?” Bucky asks.

“I like it,” you answer.

“Good, now get on the bed. I’m gonna fuck you full of it.”

pls reblog with ur thoughts and feedback, it helps me write more :))

#imsorry if this is bad #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x innocent!fem!reader #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky barnes

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation.

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day.

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No.

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her.

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public.

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears?

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—”

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking.

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation.

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him.

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already.

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity.

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait.

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl.

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy.

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

#timari #timinette #maribat #ml x dc #family-friendly content #who would have thought #tumblr dont fucking try me

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onebatch2batch · 3 years

Note

Heyo, dialogue prompts: 14 or 30? 😊

HI THIS WAS FROM FOREVER AGO BUUUUUT that's my m.o. so here we are. Hope you like it!!

And no, I'm never going to stop writing different versions of Frank and Karen getting together, you can't make me :)

14. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Frank can practically hear David scheming, and he’s proven right when an anthropomorphic mop of hair bends into his line of sight and he says, “Hey, remember in the bunker, when we were still on the run?”

They’re both standing in David’s front yard. Frank’s van is in need of an oil change and a replacement filter and since he’s not keen on anyone else working on his getaway vehicle, he called up David to request use of his paved, suburban driveway. It’s been a few weeks since he’s managed to get over here, and David had instantly agreed on the condition that Frank stay for dinner. It’s a beautiful summer day, even if it’s a little hot, and he’s feeling a little off-kilter from the sounds of children playing all around. It’s so painfully normal that for a moment he’d regretted asking, and then David had offered him a drink. The taller computer genius doesn’t know shit about cars, so he’s alternating between fetching more beers and talking Frank’s ear off. It’s been about an hour now, and Frank has slowly relaxed into the background noise.

“Yeah,” Frank responds dryly around the flashlight between his teeth. He’s elbow deep in grease and not really interested in where this line of questioning is going to go, but David has other ideas.

“Uh huh. You know, when you got yourself on the news after that kid held Karen hostage?”

If Frank is affected by the name, all David notices is a sharp glance. “Yeah.”

“And how you freaked out and begged for my help and said she was family?”

Frank straightens and sets the flashlight down on the bumper of the car. “You got a point, Lieberman? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Was that all just bullshit, or what?”

They stare at each other. Frank’s jaw ticks.

“...what.”

“Thought so.”

“No, what?”

“Well you made this huge declaration and then almost got yourself killed trying to rescue her so--”

“God damn it, Lieberman, you’re never going to let that go, are you--”

David shakes his head, exasperated. “I mean, we haven’t even gotten to meet her yet and it’s been six months since Madini used her government wiles to give you a new identity--”

Frank scowls. “It’s none of your--”

The other man cuts him off quickly, hands up. To Frank’s immense displeasure, the other man looks less cowed and more placating. “I’m just saying, invite her to dinner next week. What harm is there? Maybe something good might happen to you for once, god forbid.” His friend stares him down, using every couple of inches of height to try and look intimidating. Of course it doesn’t work, but Frank is too busy thinking about having a family dinner with Karen, with his friends, like a normal person. Like a couple. He realizes too slow that David is leering at him, pleased.

“David, shut the hell up.”

“You’re blushing. Is that a yes? I’ll tell Sarah.”

Karen doesn’t question it when Frank calls her up after half a year of radio silence. She asks if it's a casual dress dinner and what kind of wine to bring, and then announces she’s got to go and she’ll see him Friday at six sharp.

He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than her just telling him to shove it.

Friday creeps up on him, and by the time he parks outside of her apartment it hasn’t really sunk in that he’s about to take Karen Page to a domestic dinner in the suburbs. Because it’s definitely not a date, even though it kind of is. It’s the stuff he used to do with Maria and the kids all the time when he was on leave; double dates and cook outs and all that crap. He’s rusty as hell and usually shit company, but they keep asking him back. And now, he’s throwing Karen into the mix.

It’s a feeling similar to being shot in the head and waking up in a hospital room. Disorienting and uncomfortable as hell.

He picks her up in the van, leaning against the side of it as he waits. The Lieberman’s neighborhood is outside the city, about a twenty minute drive. It’s going to give them plenty of time to talk, and he’d barely restrained himself from looking up conversation starters online before leaving his place. He doubts there’s any suggestions for a vigilante-cum-construction worker who’s picking up a date he’s spoken a handful of words to for the first time in six months. He’s just considering cancelling the whole thing when the door to her building opens and she steps out.

He’s seen Karen a lot of ways. He’s seen her in pencil skirts and heels and blouses, in tshirt and jeans, bruised and bloody. He’s never seen her in a sundress with her pinked shoulders bare to the world and strappy sandals on her feet. Her hair is in a long braid over her shoulder. She looks fucking resplendant. Absolutely divine. Fucking poetry in motion.

He’s fucked.

“Hi,” she greets, coming to a stop in front of him. She’s got a bottle of wine in her hands. Her eyes punch little, individual question marks into his skin when she searches his face.

“Hey.” He inhales, bracing for her reaction. His throat closes up when he gets a whiff of her perfume. So familiar from the handful of times he’s been close enough to smell it--something soft and floral, something that makes his head swim. He thinks back to that moment so many months ago, swaying together in the elevator, her skin against his, her perfume subtle under the metallic tang of blood.

Karen doesn’t immediately go for interrogating him. She only lifts the bottle in her hand. “I brought a white, is that okay?”

Wary relief loosens the knot at the top of his spine. He nods, pushing off the car to open her door. “Sure.”

When Karen climbs in, carefully arranging her skirt around her, the dark interior contrasting with the soft yellow of her dress, Frank thinks about a conversation with Curtis all those months ago. Wonders when the kick is coming.

They spend the first ten minutes looking out separate windows and listening to the radio. After that, Karen starts talking like she’s made her mind up about the evening is going to go. She asks him how he’s been, if he’s gotten a job, how Dinah is, what the Liebermans are like. Nothing is accusatory. They could be old friends passing one another on the street, the way she’s talking. Almost like she’s talking to a scared dog. Coaxing it out of a corner.

Guess he deserves that.

By the time he pulls onto the appropriate street, it almost feels normal. They’ve fallen into a familiar back and forth that’s easy to keep up with, and when he opens her door she gives him a small grateful smile, accepting his hand on the way down.

He’s not disappointed when she lets go to straighten the fabric of her dress. He’s not.

As always, the Lieberman household is an explosion of domesticity. There’s shoes on the stairs, a sweet smelling candle burning on the coffee table, toys and books strewn over the floor. Pictures line the walls. When Frank knocks on the door, Zach opens it like he’s been waiting for them.

“ Hi, Pete!” he greets excitedly, and then his eyes land on Karen. “Who’s that?”

“Hello, I’m Karen Page.” She crouches down to look him in the eye and smiles. “You must be Zach, right?”

He flushes, twisting his fingers nervously. “Yeah. Are you Pete’s girlfriend?”

They’re saved from answering by a sudden, high pitched shriek. “Frank!!”

Karen manages to stand out of the way just in time for Leo to come barrelling down the stairs directly into Frank, hugging him tightly around the middle.

“Frank, Dad says you were here Saturday but you were gone before I left Ann’s house!!” she pulls away and waves a book at him. “I’m reading the book you told me about!”

He grins down at her. “I waited around for ya, but your mom said you wouldn’t be home until later. How’s the book, huh?”

She scrunches her nose. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know. Are you Karen?”

Karen laughs. “I sure am. Leo, right?”

“That’s me. Come on, my mom is in the kitchen.” She nudges Zach and then four of them head into the other room. Sarah Lieberman is standing behind the kitchen counter, chopping up a head of lettuce. When they walk in, she beams at them.

“Hey guys, welcome! Hang on, let me finish this. Pete, David’s out in the garage trying to fix the sprinklers. Can you--?”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Say no more.”

He lifts his brows at Karen, but she gives him a jerk of her head. Frank huffs and stalks off after kissing Sarah on the cheek, Leo trailing after him talking about sprinkler systems and tools. Zach joins his mother behind the counter and peers at Karen curiously. She sets the bottle of wine down.

“So Karen!” Sarah exclaims, dumping the lettuce into a bowl. “Let’s get you a glass of wine and chat. How’s that sound?”

They end up on the patio furniture. After completing the salad and sides, Sarah turns on the grill and then ushers them to the corner of the patio, refilling their glasses.

“So,” she starts, and peers at Karen over the rim of her glass. “I’m going to be forward, but I get the feeling you’ll appreciate that. What’s the deal with you and Pete? Sorry--habit. Frank.”

Karen could have guessed this was coming, even if she expected a little more subtlety. And Sarah’s right, she appreciates the bluntness. It gives her a chance to answer in kind.

“I don’t know.” She runs a finger over the rim of her glass, frowning. “I haven’t--we haven’t spoken in...a while. Six months, actually. And the last time I saw him..well, it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I thought I scared him off, actually.”

“How so?”

And the story falls out of her mouth, in pieces. She hasn’t spoken to anyone about Frank, about her feelings for him--the good or bad--or about that afternoon in the hospital. “--and I thought...I thought maybe he would finally kiss me.” She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “And then he pulled that I’m not a hero bullshit and that’s the last I saw of him. Until he called this week.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “That sounds like him. Honey, did you know when we first met he was gathering information on David?”

“Ah, yes. I was the one who found David for him.” She grimaces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be! We’re lucky he came looking. Without him…” she shrugs. “I would still be a widow. And my kids still wouldn’t have their father. I’m just trying to say he may do things backwards, but he ends up doing things for the right reasons. Even if it takes him time to figure that out.”

Dinner goes well. Dinner goes really, really well. Not that Frank was worried--there isn’t a person alive who can sit down with Karen Page and at the very least admire her. The Liebermans fall in love with her immediately. The kids demand that she stay for a board game after dinner. Leo brags about her science project. Zach shyly asks if Karen likes football. Sarah drills her with questions about her job. David keeps her laughing while stupid jokes and send Frank knowing glances throughout dinner that makes Frank want to throw peas at him.

Karen is charming, sweet, and great with the kids. She gets along with David and Sarah, and sends him warm, unsure smiles until dessert.

They play Apples to Apples, and the kids decimate. Karen is a close third. Frank loses terribly, but he’s still busy ruminating over the warm feeling in his chest at the cacophony of noise that surrounds him as everyone submits to another peal of laughter to notice.

“Frank,” Leo says innocently once they’ve put the board game away and Sarah has told the kids it’s time for bed. She stands in the doorway to the kitchen and looks at him sternly, hands on her hips. “Please bring Karen around more. It’s not fair that you get to hog her and we’ve just met.”

“Leo, that’s Miss Page to you.” Sarah tries for sharpness but ends up laughing. “Off to bed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“Bye Miss Page!” the kids chorus, and then it’s just the adults.

“Great kids,” Karen laughs. “Smart, too. You’re in trouble.”

Sarah sighs and pats her husband’s cheek fondly. “Yeah, we know. Somehow both of them got his brain.”

David chuckles, turns quickly to press a kiss to his wife’s palm. “At least they didn’t get my hair,” he jokes.

Karen sneaks a glance at Frank, then quickly looks away. He catches it, just briefly, as does David.

“Sarah, we should probably make sure the kids are actually brushing their teeth. I’ll tackle Leo if you tackle Zach, tag team it? We’ll be right back, guys.”

It’s quiet in the kitchen after that. Karen takes a sip of her wine and taps her fingers. There’s something on her mind, he can tell. When she doesn’t say anything he leans forward to capture her gaze. “What is it?”

“Why now, Frank?” Karen asks.

The conversation he’s been dreading. A feeling of shame bubbles up so suddenly it nearly knocks him off his chair. He scratches his neck for no reason other than to expel the nervous energy building in him.

“I didn’t want to…” There’s no use pretending like they’re talking about something else, not when she’s staring at him like that. Like she's been waiting all night for this conversation while he’s been tricking himself into thinking it may not happen. His finger dances restlessly on the table top. “I didn’t want to get you sucked back in.”

“Into what?” She arches a brow. “You?”

“Me. My life. My goddamn baggage. I know you deserve better than me.” He clears his throat. “So I wanted you to have a chance to live your life without my ghosts hanging around.”

“Frank Castle,” Karen sighs, exasperated, “please don’t tell me you’re making decisions for me. And that still doesn’t answer my question--why now?”

His expression tightens. “C’mon Karen. I’m just tryin’ to keep you safe--”

“How many times do I have to tell you--”

“As many as it ta--”

“Frank--” David steps into the kitchen, Sarah in tow. They pause, looking between the two people seated at the table awkwardly. “Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“No, David. Thank you both for tonight. I think I should be going.” Karen stands and looks at Frank. “I have loved you for two years, Frank. No amount of avoiding me or trying to protect me is going to change that. Excuse me.”

And then she walks away.

He catches up to her just down the street. As soon as he sees that familiar head of blond hair he pulls the van over and hops out, jogging to catch up. Karen glances at him and then pauses, as if waiting for something.

“Let me drive you home,” he asks. “Please.”

He doesn’t take her home straight away; she doesn’t ask. Frank drives until he finds a spot overlooking the water. The heat has finally broken and a cool breeze comes in through the open window, stirring Karen’s hair. He shuts off the engine. They sit in silence while he tries to decide what to say.

“I guess I should start by apologizing,” he says finally, tapping the steering wheel. He’s past nervous, he just wants to fix his own screw up. “I’m sorry, Karen. I don’t want to make any decisions for you. I should have--I should have talked to you about it. I should have started this conversation a long time ago.”

“So, start it.” She’s watching him, waiting. There’s a tense expression on her face--like she’s either trying not to cry, or trying not to smile. Or tell him off. He’s not sure which, yet.

Frank clears his throat. “Okay. Uh. I’m not gonna make excuses, I’m just gonna tell you what I know. I know that I have done some shit, and I’m going to continue doing that shit. I’m not ever gonna be normal. I know that you’re smart as hell, and you check me, and you’re a fucking force of nature. I know that I have been telling myself that you deserve more than some--fuckin’ vigilante who wakes up to nightmares more than he doesn’t. I know you deserve to be safe and happy. You deserve more than I can give you. But uh,” he takes her hand cautiously, waits for her to pull away, relaxes when she doesn’t, “...I wanna try.”

“You gotta mean it, Frank,” she says, voice watery. “You better fucking mean it.”

“I mean it. I swear to Christ, I mean it.”

She pulls her hand away and for a millisecond, he thinks he’s said something wrong. Then she’s unbuckling her seat belt and clamoring over the armrest into his lap. It’s not the most majestic first kiss he’s ever had (of which there are few) but her breath is hot on his lips and her fingernails scrape gently over his scalp as if entreating him closer. Frank makes a low groan that he hasn’t heard from himself in a long time--too long--and then Karen shifts and his breath catches in his throat. The heat of her, all wrapped up in his arms, her hair falling over one shoulder as she peppers his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw with the tiniest of kisses.

He could have ruined this without even knowing. He almost ruined it before it even happened.

“I do want you, you know,” Karen murmurs against the skin of his jaw, fingers grasping his shirt. “All of you.”

“I know.”

“Does that scare you?”

He pushes gently until he can look her in the eyes. “A little,” he admits. “I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“You’re doing okay so far,” she says, smiling. “Now that you’ve pulled your self-deprecating head out of your ass.”

“Took me long enough.” He cradles the back of her head in one hand, drawing her closer until their lips meet again. They’re both uncomfortable at the weird angle but it’s not until the horn beeps once, gaining the attention of a woman walking her dog, that Karen reluctantly returns to her seat.

They work to catch their breaths, watching the water.

“The Liebermans aren’t upset I left so--...abruptly, right?”

“Nah,” Frank chuckles, grasping her hand. He finds an indescribable amount of comfort in brushing his thumb over the ridges over her knuckles. “Actually, I think they like you better for it. Sarah almost chased me out of the house with a goddamn spatula.”

“I knew I liked her. Take me home? I’ll make coffee.”

“It’s a date.”

Frank’s phone lights up that night. If he were to reach an arm over and hold it up to see, David’s text would read, WELL?? Did you get the girl, Lloyd Dobler?

But he doesn’t. He tugs Karen closer and goes back to sleep.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastle fanfic #my writing #answered #cant-think-of-anything-creative

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lalainajanes · 3 years

Text

This completes column #2 on my bingo card, the square was “Eager Backstage Groupie”

Another Shot of Courage

Saturday, May 1st, 8:16 AM

Caroline wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in the little black dress she'd worn to Kat's birthday party, with a headache and a foul-tasting mouth. She's sprawled in the middle of a very large mattress, so the first thing Caroline does is explore. She stretches her arms out tentatively, expecting to poke someone (hopefully an unobjectionable someone) awake.

She appears to be alone, and Caroline relaxes into the fluffy pillows. She wiggles experimentally, satisfied when her bra and underwear dig into uncomfortable areas and gives in to the temptation to burrow under the duvet.

She just needs a minute to regret her life choices before she confronts them. Caroline sighs, stretches, and her fuzzy head begins to clear, memories sharpening.

And yikes.

Can she stay in her self-made blanket fort forever? A lot of her conduct last night had been highly irrational, some of it downright hypocritical. She is a public relations professional, highly sought after. Her clients pay many pretty pennies for her services.

Had she seriously mauled Klaus Mikaelson in one of the trendiest clubs in LA?

Caroline tugs down the blanket, intent on confirming her suspicions, allowing her to look around and study the room with new eyes.

There's a brick fireplace at the end of the bed, a wide armchair in front of it – not particularly revealing. Her eyes flick to the left. There's nothing, but dark curtains pulled tight over a wall of windows.

When she looks to the right, there's a smoking gun. Well, kind of. It's a drafting table, an easel, and shelves featuring paintbrushes, haphazardly stacked sketchbooks, and a bunch of other things that Caroline doesn't currently have the brainpower to identify.

She considers slipping out of bed and checking to see if those curtains cover any kind of door. She thinks it's logical to assume so. She's only been to Klaus' home a few times, tries to insist they meet at her office. She's never ventured far beyond the kitchen and living rooms, but it's a Spanish-style bungalow on a sprawling lot. Why wouldn't he have a walk out into the yard from his bedroom?

She discards the idea with some regret. Running away without a word is a coward's move and would probably backfire. Klaus is still her client, whatever psychosis had gripped Caroline last night, and it's not like she could dump him via email at this point. He's got a huge movie coming in three weeks, and they're flying to London tomorrow to begin the premiere tour. She could probably pass it on to another publicist, but she'd still be on the hook, would have to coordinate her plans long-distance.

Selfishly, Caroline hopes that's not necessary. She'd hate for someone else to reap the benefits of her hard work.

She heaves herself into a sitting position, wincing when her head throbs. Her stomach seems solid, with no hint of queasiness, so that's a plus. Caroline tosses the covers aside, shifts until her legs slide over the side of the bed. She catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror through the open closet door and cringes.

She'd done an excellent smoky eye last night, and it's migrated all over her face. She doesn't even want to consider how long it's going to take to detangle her hair. She decides she can wait a bit to hunt down Klaus, stepping forward and twisting the knob on the closed door. "Jackpot," Caroline mutters, walking into Klaus' bathroom. There's a stack of towels on the counter, and she figures it won't hurt to take a shower.

She'd had her tongue in his mouth and had apparently kicked him out of his bed, so what's one more presumption?

Friday, April 30th, 10:47 PM

In the VIP lounge Kat had rented, elevated above the main dance floor, Caroline waves away a shot of tequila. She'd had one during the birthday toast, wine at dinner. Had just ordered an overpriced cocktail. She's pleasantly tipsy but needs to pace herself because she can't get too drunk tonight.

Besides, Caroline and tequila have a complicated relationship.

Kat boos her, a few of the other girls joining in. Caroline laughs, "I know, I'm boring. I have a million things to do tomorrow to make sure I'm ready to live out of a suitcase for weeks."

Katherine scoffs, "Just make Klaus buy you anything you forget. What good is a guy who's hot for you and makes big fat superhero movie paychecks if he won't buy you pretty things?"

They've discussed this a bajillion times. Caroline has actually run away from this exact conversation, shouting nonsense syllables, with her fingers jammed in her ear, as if she and Katherine still fight over Barbies and who gets to wear dress-up trunk's best princess dress.

Caroline still can't resist arguing – it's a character flaw. "He's my client. That's it."

"Oh, please. Men in this town bone their clients all the time."

"That doesn't make it okay!"

Usually, this is the part where Katherine tries to convince her that Klaus is dying to be boned – her words, not Caroline's – but she gets distracted, squinting across the bar. Kat's lips curl, expression growing sly, "It appears my argument is moot."

Um, what? Katherine's literally never backed down from an argument in the twenty-plus years they've been friends. Puzzled, Caroline turns, trying to see what caught Kat's attention.

The club features several VIP lounges, each located at the top of a short staircase and decorated with wide velvet sofas and crystal chandeliers. There's an attendant who keeps booze and food flowing. It's clever – the sofas are inviting and squishy, tend to force people close together. The chandeliers ensure that anyone who happens to take a picture can get a decent shot, and the free flow of liquor has lowered the inhibitions of at least half a dozen celebrities, resulting in photos that send the gossip blogs into a tizzy as soon as they hit the internet.

When Caroline spots Klaus across the way, a redheaded model sprawled in his lap, she's immediately fuming.

"Looks like he got tired of waiting," Kat drawls. "Wanna reconsider the tequila?"

"Katherine. I love you. But zip it."

Katherine makes a face but leaves Caroline alone, turning to another one of their friends and asking a question. Caroline takes a deep breath, counts to ten.

She'd busted her ass to make him appear family-friendly enough to land the movie with the very PR-conscious studio that had netted him the big fat checks Katherine had just been crowing over. He's jeopardizing that on the eve of the most significant press tour of his career.

She looks over again, leaning forward. The redhead's moved away, she's sitting at Klaus' side, and they now appear to be merely engaged in conversation. Caroline does her best to think like a photographer – is there an angle that could make the scene look tawdry?

Probably not. So really, Klaus isn't jeopardizing anything.

Caroline's anger doesn't cool at the revelation.

She's so screwed.

She's on her feet before she decides to be, stalking down the stairs. She hears Katherine yelling borderline lewd encouragement at her back, but Caroline knows better than to take her advice.

She's marching over to diffuse, not inflame.

Hopefully.

Saturday, May 1st, 9:01 AM

She finds Klaus in his living room, asleep, his legs hanging awkwardly over the arm of a too-short couch, his torso twisted so awkwardly that Caroline's back twinges sympathetically. With the confirmation that she had stolen his bed, more of Caroline's irritation fades. The shower had helped, as had the bottle of water she'd guzzled and the three Tylenol she'd popped.

She takes a seat on his coffee table, setting down her second bottle of water. Caroline reaches out, shaking his shoulder gently. "Klaus," she murmurs when he begins to stir. "Wake up."

She could probably leave him to sleep. Klaus' stylist will handle most of his packing; he's borrowed a dizzying volume of outfits and accessories for Klaus to wear on this trip. The announcement won't come for another two weeks, but Klaus is shooting a Dior cologne ad once his press obligations wrap. The brand had requested he start wearing the newest line. Caroline had attended the last fitting, and she'd had a hard time keeping her blatant ogling under wraps.

Klaus looks good in ratty jeans, in a suit tailored to his measurements? Just about anyone attracted to men would have struggled not to appreciate the sight.

That's how Caroline had justified letting her emails pile up that afternoon.

She'd been a little worried about her control slipping on this trip, once they were alone in the hotel, and Klaus dropped the shiny, press-perfect façade he's learned to maintain. Caroline had designed that mask to appeal to the broadest possible audience. Doing interview prep has unfortunately only emphasized how much more she likes Klaus without it.

Klaus stretches, eyes fluttering open. "Good morning," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep. "I hope you slept better than I did."

Caroline winces, "Don’t you have a guest room or two you could have shoved me in?”

He smiles lazily, “You were quite insistent on touring my bedroom.”

Her eyes slam shut, face heating, “And that is why I don’t drink tequila unsupervised,” she grumbles.

He laughs, sitting up, his legs bracketing hers. He reaches for her water bottle and helps himself to a sip. Caroline leans back, fishing the Tylenol out of the pocket of the hoodie she’d stolen from his closet. She’d needed something bulkier to hide the fact she hadn’t been able to convince herself to strap her bra back on. “Do you want these?” she asks, rattling the bottle.

Klaus shakes his head, “I’m not hungover. I didn’t drink at all, and you stole that shot of tequila that was meant for me, remember?”

Ohhh no. She’d forgotten about that. She’d stolen his and the model’s.

Which, in hindsight, goes a long way to explaining what had happened after. Caroline’s problem with tequila is that once she starts, she has a hard time stopping. It heightens her usually non-existent impulsive streak, leads to sub-par decisions.

Occasionally, tequila does make her clothes fall off.

Caroline buries her hands in her face, wishing she hadn’t tied her hair back. She’s mortified, probably growing splotchy. “I am so sorry,” she mutters.

Klaus sighs, tries to tug her hands away. Caroline resists, tensing her muscles, wishes she’d gone with her first instinct and fled out the backdoor. He rests his hands on her knees, squeezing, voice dipping into coaxing tones. “No apology necessary. I’m not the least bit upset.”

Unfortunately, Caroline’s totally up to the task of being upset enough for the both of them.

Friday, April 30th, 10:53 PM

Once the attendant in Klaus VIP area confirms that he does know Caroline and lets her up the stairs, Klaus has managed to increase the distance between his body and the model’s. He seems pleased to see her, grabbing her hand and tugging her to sit next to him on the couch.

Close enough that they’re connected thigh to shoulder.

The model, whose name Caroline doesn’t particularly care about, is less welcoming. She glares daggers at Caroline’s hand, still enclosed in Klaus’. He makes polite introductions. “Genevieve, this is my publicist and very good friend, Caroline Forbes. Caroline, Genevieve. She’s a friend of Kol’s.”

Klaus’ younger brother is also an actor, still firmly in the throes of his wild child phase. Caroline finds him entertaining, despite her best intentions, but he’s known to delight in making her job more complicated. She glances around suspiciously, “Is Kol here?”

Klaus gestures vaguely to the dance floor. “Somewhere. He dragged me out to celebrate a pilot he booked, then disappeared.”

Hmm, that could lead to disaster. Caroline wonders if she should shoot his publicist a text as a professional courtesy.

Caroline smiles at Genevieve sharply, “So sweet of you to keep Klaus company.” It’s mean, but Caroline wonders if Genevieve has somehow heard about Klaus’ Dior deal through the grapevine. Maybe she’s aiming for a co-starring role – Caroline’s read the treatment for the commercial; it’s supposed to be streamy.

Oh, good lord, High School Caroline has somehow time traveled and taken over her body.

Genevieve pastes on an equally fake smile (at least Caroline’s not the only one regressing). Before she can snipe back, a silver tray is set in front of them, two shots resting on it. The attendant catches Caroline’s eye, “Can I get you anything, Miss?”

Klaus interrupts, squeezes her hand in an absent apology, “Sorry, there must be some mistake. I ordered a water.”

He’s contractually obligated to maintain a ridiculously chiseled body. Caroline’s got a reminder in her phone to order him a pile of celebratory spaghetti after his press obligations are officially over and he can relax for a few months.

The attendant’s eyes flit to Genevieve in confusion, “I…”

“I cancelled that,” she chirps, sliding her hand up Klaus’ arm. Genevieve leans in, tone lowering to what Caroline thinks is supposed to be a seductive level. “Figured we would toast.”

Caroline catches it because she’s practically plastered to Klaus’ other side. “Who toasts with tequila?” she asks. “Other than creeps at bars, I mean.”

Had Caroline not been well acquainted with Katherine Pierce, she might have been intimidated by Genevieve's attempt at a lethal glare.

Caroline stares back, reaching blindly for the first shot. She tosses it back, then the second, fighting the shudder that wants to wrack her frame through sheer willpower alone.

“Bitch,” Genevieve mutters, standing and flouncing away.

It’s petty, but Caroline savors her win.

Klaus is staring at her oddly, a touch concerned. “Maybe we should get you some water, love.”

Saturday, May 1st, 9:04 AM

“There were more shots when I got back to Kat’s party,” Caroline moans. “I’m going to kill her. She knows my weaknesses.”

“While I am reluctant to defend your irritating friend, she did seem rather intent on her fun. It was her birthday, wasn’t it?”

Caroline nods, “Yeah. And Kat’s always been firmly convinced that she should get to do whatever her little black heart desires on her birthday.”

“She did insist I ensure you get home safely. I’m afraid you were rather reluctant to supply your address.”

She sighs, finally dropping her hands. “Honestly, I just moved into a condo. I might not have remembered it.” That’s the less embarrassing option. It’s probably more likely that tequila drunk Caroline had crafted a plan to seduce Klaus, and step one entailed getting invited to his house. “I know you said not to apologize, but I obviously put you out. I’m supposed to babysit you, not the other way around.”

Klaus laughs, his knee nudging hers. “I haven’t needed that for ages, as you well know.”

He has a point – Caroline likely wouldn’t have agreed to take him on if he was still indulging in public drunkenness and paparazzi punching. When she’d first met with Klaus, it had been out of curiosity. She’d made a comfortable living from her client roster, did not need to take on the project of a difficult actor.

Klaus’ bad behavior had been a few years in the past, and he’d just come off a run of festival darlings and had produced a surprise hit sci-fi drama. He’d been frustrated by the doors that remained firmly shut to him, had laid his ambitions on the table.

Caroline had been intrigued. While she’s excellent at her job, but it’s always easier to work her magic with clients who are willing to dive into the work. Klaus’ talent was undeniable; she’d thought he could be a household name with the right opportunity. She’d agreed to take him on, and three years later, it’s paid off.

Caroline tugs the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over her hands, eyes on the frayed trim. “I was mad when I saw you last night, and that wasn’t fair. You’d set you were resting up for the press tour, but it’s not my business if you changed your mind.”

“Did you think I was resuming some bad habits?” Klaus asks. “I know that particular venue has a… reputation. Probably why Kol picked it.”

Caroline sneaks a glance at him, trying to gauge how he feels, but he’s not giving much away. “No, not really. I trust you. I wasn’t thinking super logically.”

She has to admit, at least to herself, that she’d been jealous. Caroline’s going to have to think about how deep that goes, if the feelings that had slapped her in the face last night will prevent their working relationship from being effective. What if Klaus meets someone? Will she be able to plant sneaky tidbits about how happy they are, scour the gossip blogs for rumors that could become issues?

“You? Not thinking logically? However could that be?”

She glares at him, though she knows his teasing is good-natured. “Some of it was the booze. I totally wouldn’t have hauled you onto the dance floor without it. And I wouldn’t have… well, you were there.”

She’s not up to list her transgressions. If Klaus hadn’t been drinking, then his memory of her wandering hands, her flirtatious comments, and heated invitations should be crystal clear. Caroline had been drunk, and she’s having a hard time not dwelling on the kiss – which, to be fair, Klaus had enthusiastically participated in – that she’d initiated.

“I was there. I have no objections to anything that occurred last night, save perhaps wishing you’d been sober.” Her head snaps up, eyes widening in shock, and Klaus laughs incredulously. “Surely you must know of my interest in you, Caroline.”

She’s suspected, but she’s also well aware that Klaus has no shortage of offers. Last night is proof of that. Caroline has always assumed that take one of them, at some point, and his flirtatiousness with her would fade away. She’d dated an actor or two when she’d moved to LA after wrapping up college. Caroline had been working insane hours then, trying to claw her way past the other assistants at the agency where she’d worked. Her exes from that time period had been quick to move on once they realized she wasn’t willing to center her universe around them.

“Interest can be fleeting.”

“It’s been three years.”

“You never made a real move.”

Again, Klaus counters quickly. “You’d not have accepted, and then you’d likely have pawned me off on someone else.”

Yeah, he’s got a point there. “I’m your publicist.”

“I have no objection to mixing business with pleasure. If you do, I suppose I’m willing to suffer a less competent publicist.”

“I’m beginning to suspect you’ve been plotting.”

Klaus shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “Perhaps a bit. I’ve always been entirely honest with you, I merely prevented a situation that would lessen the time we spent together until such a time as you were ready to consider me in a romantic light.”

“That’s a lot of words to confess you’ve been trying to flirt me into submission while flashing your hot body at every opportunity,” Caroline grumbles.

Klaus’ smile widens, dimples now visible. “It seems to have worked. Assuming that you meant the things you said to me last night?”

“I…” she hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that directly. She should have been – Klaus is skilled at choosing the best way to catch someone off guard. Caroline glances away from him, eyes catching on the clock across the room. Crap. She has so much to do. “I have to go,” Caroline tells him, standing up.

His eyes narrow, and his head tips to the side, like he’s searching for a sign of weakness. Both telltale indicators that Klaus is gearing up to argue. Caroline holds up a hand, “I know, okay? This looks like I’m running away, and technically I am, but this is not the time to begin that mixing you mentioned. We’ve both worked too hard to risk screwing up the next few weeks. Did you read your contract? The fines for non-compliance are no joke.”

“Now is not the time,” Klaus says slowly. “Meaning?”

“We table it now. I’m open to a discussion later.” Three weeks is plenty of time for her to sort out where she stands, right? Caroline never sleeps on flights anyway.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I want a timeline. I understand that you feel obligated to ensure this press tour goes smoothly, but you can only use it as an excuse until it’s over, love. I’m prepared to be persuasive.”

“What, do you want me to schedule something on your calendar? Maybe set an agenda?”

“No need to be so formal. Just agree to have dinner with me once we return. Here, if you’d like, so we don’t risk inflaming the tabloids before you’re ready.”

“You seem awfully sure that this is going to go a certain way. So eager to fire me?”

Klaus gets to his feet, and Caroline sucks in a nervous breath. Sitting across from each other, he’d been a reasonable distance away. Now, with both of them standing in the narrow gap between his couch and coffee table, if one of them breathes too deeply or shifts deliberately, they’ll be plastered together.

She’s tempted despite knowing she’s right about the timing.

Klaus rests his hand on her waist and turns them so Caroline could step back if she wanted to.

She stays where she is.

A tiny smile curls Klaus’ lips and his hand moves, pressing her closer. “As much as I enjoyed your more… explicit ramblings last night, I must confess my favorite revelation was when you confessed to just how long you’ve had them.”

Caroline, not for the first time, curses tequila’s wretched existence.

Wednesday, May 5th 2:20 PM

The meet and greets are going to kill her.

Caroline had thought they were a good idea when she’d poured through the itinerary the studio had sent over. Inviting popular bloggers, auctioning off tickets for charity, allowing fans to enter random draws – it’s great PR and provides the opportunity for viral moments, while also controlling the environment.

Caroline’s leaning against one of the walls, unnoticed, eyes on her client.

A lot of eyes are on her client, some of which irritate Caroline more than others. The two teenage girls, trailed by an exasperated dad, who’d both burst into tears when Klaus had smiled at them? Totally adorable. The nerdy college student who’d grilled Klaus about his character’s comic backstory? Kind of a pain, but Klaus had done his homework, and Caroline had been impressed.

And annoyed. Excessive preparation is very attractive and unhelpful at this juncture of the press tour. Caroline’s already begun to reconsider what they’d agreed to, wonders if knocking on his hotel room door on the last night would be such a bad thing.

That line of thinking might be overly influenced by the scene in front of her.

Klaus is speaking with a woman in an afternoon inappropriate silver dress. Caroline’s sorely tempted to have her escorted out by security. She’d slipped a key card into the back pocket of Klaus’ jeans within 90 seconds of meeting him.

He’s handed it back, said something that made her laugh. They’re still talking.

Klaus glances up, eyes landing on her immediately. Caroline hastily tries to soften her irritated expression lest he guesses its reason. Klaus smiles, subtly tips his water bottle in her direction. Silver Dress invades his personal space a little more.

Ugh. It’s gonna be a long three weeks.

#klaroline #klarosummerbingo #klaroline fanfiction

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antebunny · 3 years

Text

Wei Wuxian, worst supervillain: part 2

Full series here.

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian, with the urgency of a doomed man. “You gotta help me.”

“What’s the problem?” Wen Ning says immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Wen Qing says, without looking up from her book.

She’s sitting comfortably on the single couch in Wei Wuxian’s so-called villain lair. In reality, he couldn’t afford anywhere else, and the Burial Mounds are rent-free and neighborless. She still made Wei Wuxian buy the red couch, and it remains the only splash of color in the whole complex.

Wei Wuxian pauses, his palms still slammed down on the creaking table in the center of the room. Wen Ning continues mixing his tea. “Okay, first off,” he says, mortally offended, “you didn’t even know what I was going to say. And second, I wasn’t even asking you!”

“I’m answering for A-Ning,” Wen Qing says calmly.

“Wen Ning is a free man!” Wei Wuxian argues. “He can make his own decisions!”

“What do you need help with?” Wen Ning intervenes, dragging Wei Wuxian’s attention away from the argument.

“I’m not being taken seriously!” Wei Wuxian wails.

Wen Qing snorts. “Why would I?”

“I didn’t mean you,” Wei Wuxian says, once more mortally offended. “I mean the superheroes! They’re not taking me seriously as a villain! Last time I robbed the national bank, they just sent Lan Zhan, and we didn’t even fight!”

“Right,” Wen Qing says drily. “You just debated philosophy for two hours.”

“He had some interesting points,” Wei Wuxian mutters sulkily. “What was I supposed to do, just not debate him?”

“Yes,” says Wen Qing.

“I can’t just ignore Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says belligerently. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be concerned? If the superheroes don’t take me seriously, how am I supposed to secure the safety of your family? If I just rescue them the government will never stop hunting them!”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault you chose the stupidest way to go about it. Now both of your siblings are mad at you.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to retort and then pauses. “Okay, but,” he tries, “it’s too late now! After last Friday–”

“There were easier ways to explain to Meng Yao where he got his psychic powers from,” Wen Qing notes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning flush bright red.

“–the truth, Meng Yao,” the Yiling Patriarch said melodramatically, and his black coat billowed out behind him as he stalked towards Meng Yao.

The young man scrambled backwards over the rubble of the destroyed convenience store, his honey eyes wide with fear at the sight of the masked supervillain loomed over him. He was the communications director for the superheroes before all this happened, but during this fight Wei Wuxian had noticed his fledgling psychic powers and looked at the young man, who happened to look eerily similar to Jin Zixuan, and realized what was going on.

“They never told you what happened to your father,” Wei Wuxian continued, easily cornering Meng Yao.

Back in the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning leaned towards his computer like he could merge into the scene. His fingers flew across the keys, as he suddenly remembered some quote about a father that would be perfect for this situation. If only he could get to his list of villain phrases fast enough–

Wei Wuxian paused as the line flashed in front of his eyes, projected by his mask. Without registering the words, he read it out loud. “I am your father!”

Meng Yao stopped cowering.

The Yiling Patriarch stopped stalking dramatically. “Ah, fuck,” he said, his pointed finger drooping. “Wait–I meant–”

Two superheroes landed on the pile of rubble beside Meng Yao.

“Darth Vader, The Empire Strikes Back,” Hanguang-jun said confidently.

“How are you so fucking stupid,” Sandu Shengshou said, almost wonderingly. Bright purple lightning crackled around his fingertips.

“Shut up, I don’t know you!” The Yiling Patriarch cried. “I meant Jin Guangshan! I meant Jin Guangshan!”

“I think Zewu-jun’s handling it,” Wei Wuxian says evasively.

Wen Qing snorts. “Sure.”

“The point is they’re not taking me seriously!” Wei Wuxian insists. “Wen Ning, what can I do to make them take me seriously as a villain?”

“Do something only a villain would do,” Wen Ning suggests.

“Well obviously,” Wei Wuxian says. “But what?” He pulls out the chair across from Wen Ning and plonks himself down in it. They both ponder this question.

“Maybe you could kidnap a hero?” Wen Ning suggests.

Wei Wuxian brightens. “That’s a great idea! But who?”

“Oh my God,” Wen Qing mutters from her comfy seat on the couch.

“Not Jiang Cheng, he’d kill me,” Wei Wuxian muses. He props his chin up with one hand. “And I don’t want to kidnap someone who’d get actually scared…Lan Zhan! Perfect. I’ll kidnap their precious Hanguang-jun. Then they’ll have to take me seriously!”

"Kill me now," Wen Qing groans.

When Lan Wangji wakes up to see the Yiling Patriarch looming over him, he thinks he’s still dreaming for one embarrassing moment. He’s glad he recognizes his mistake, or he would’ve said or done something mortifying that he prefers not to think about.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” The Yiling Patriarch says, grinning evilly. “You are in the lair of the Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji sits up. He’s on a soft red couch, wrapped in at least three blankets. Other than that, the large room is rather sparse; the walls are plain stone, as is the floor, save for a threadbare rug on top of which a rickety old table sits, with four chairs of varying styles situated around it.

“How does it feel to know you’ve been kidnapped by your worst enemy?” The Yiling Patriarch says gleefully.

He leans closer, and Lan Wangji swallows, his throat dry. It seems that the Yiling Patriarch forgeos his high-collar black coat when he’s at home. He’s currently wearing a baggy black shirt and black ripped jeans, which means that when Lan Wangji looks up, he’s looking directly at his collarbone, then up at his jawline, and then at the bottom half of his face. As he leans in, his lips curve in a wicked smile, and no, Lan Wangji not thinking about his forearms, or those beautiful, slender hands–

“How does it feel knowing you’ve been rendered powerless?” The Yiling Patriarch continues. His silver eyes track the movement of Lan Wangji’s throat. “Are you uncomfortable?” He asks worriedly. “This place has no heating–you know, free rent, that’s how it is–and I didn’t have anywhere else to put you, but I thought I brought enough blankets. Do you want tea? I can make tea!”

And the Yiling Patriarch bustles off, throwing a “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” over his shoulder.

Lan Wangji pushes the blankets off. “I am quite comfortable,” he says to himself. Perhaps he could’ve said it earlier, but he wasn’t going to dissuade the Yiling Patriarch from making him tea.

The Yiling Patriarch returns with two cups of jasmine tea, and invites Lan Wangji to take a seat at his table.

“Sorry about the chairs, they’re kinda falling apart,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “I got them at a yard sale. Well, four different yard sales, so none of them match.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says.

“Right, right.” The Yiling Patriarch clears his throat, and pushes one teacup towards Lan Wangji. “Anyway. I thought it was time I proved my worth as a villain, don’t you think?” He leans back in his chair. One of the chair legs squeaks.

“You could always retire,” Lan Wangji suggests.

The Yiling Patriarch’s casual smile drops. “Not until I’ve done what I set out to do,” he says seriously. He pulls up his villain smile again. “Though I’m sure you heroes must be eager for me to retire, hm?”

“I am worried one day you might be seriously injured,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” the Yiling Patriarch says, shaking his head. “The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted. I have so much–”

“Hannibal Lecter,” says Lan Wangji.

The Yiling Patriarch scowls at him. “Stop doing that. As I was saying, I have so much to do, and so little time on this earth. If I must turn to villany to accomplish my goals, then I will. You cannot debate me into giving up my pursuits.”

“Why must you turn to villainy?” Lan Wangji asks. He drinks his tea. It’s over boiled, but still the best tea he’s ever had.

“Because otherwise, nobody listens,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “You think I didn’t try the proper way first?”

“No doubt you tried,” says Lan Wangji. “Nevertheless: what are your goals? Why do you hide your face? Who are you protecting?”

The Yiling Patriarch slams his teacup down. “You want the truth?” He pauses. “You can’t handle the truth!”

Lan Wangji sips his tea. “Colonel Nathan Jessup, A Few Good Men.”

“Stop doing that!” The Yiling Patriarch cries. He stands up and shakes his finger very threateningly at Lan Wangji. “You seem to have forgotten that you have been kidnapped, Lan Zhan.”

“I have not,” Lan Wangji says. The location leaves something to be desired, but other than that he thinks it’s a very fine first date.

“Then–! Don’t forget who holds the power in this situation!”

“Mhm,” Lan Wangji agrees. He sips his tea again. “Thank you for the tea.”

“O-oh, of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says, thrown. He sits down again. “You seemed like a no sugar type of person.” He pauses. “I mean, if you want sugar, I have some in the pantry. I think. Unless we ran out.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji says. He is, in fact, a no-sugar type of person.

“That’s good,” the Yiling Patriarch says. He smiles at Lan Wangji, who almost smiles back, heart set aflutter by the gentle smile on the Yiling Patriarch’s face.

“What is your plan?” Lan Wangji asks.

“My plan?” The Yiling Patriarch echoes, thrown once more. “I mean, my villainous plan! Uh. The one that I have.”

“Is this all for your image?” Lan Wangji presses.

“Of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says immediately. “You know me. Vanity, definitely my favorite sin.”

“John Milton, The Devil’s Advocate.”

“Shut up! I can’t believe you memorized all these quotes,” the Yiling Patriarch bemoans. “Lan Zhan, you’re ruining all my fun.”

Lan Wangji sips his tea again. “I am quite capable of research.”

“I’ll say,” he mutters.

“It is not too late to turn back,” Lan Wangji says, trying for once to put the turmoil of emotion he feels into his tone. “We can still put old wounds behind us. I can help you.”

The Yiling Patriarch slumps against his table. “Can we?” He asks, subdued. “After all, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.”

“Hannibal Lecter again,” says Lan Wangji.

“Fuck you! Hannibal Lecter is a good villain!” The Yiling Patriarch swells belligerently.

“And you,” Lan Wangji says calmly, “are not a very convincing villain.”

“What do you mean?” The Yiling Patriarch demands. “I kidnapped a hero! Only villains do that!” He sweeps one arm across the situation, gesturing at the hot jasmine tea and the pile of blankets on the couch behind them, and at Lan Wangji, seated primly on the old wooden chair provided for him. “This is a kidnapping!”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji says.

“I am a supervillain!” The Yiling Patriarch insists. “There’s no coming back from that. I destroyed a skyscraper last week. I’ve cost the government too much money for them to ever forgive me. There’s no way for you to redeem me!”

“There is nothing to redeem,” Lan Wangji says sharply.

The Yiling Patriarch flinches. When he stops, his expression is scraped raw. “R-right,” he says shakily. “O-of course–”

“I meant there is nothing to redeem, because you are already good,” Lan Wangji says hurriedly, realizing the misinterpretation of his statement.

The Yiling Patriarch pauses, mouth half open. “Lan Zhan, there’s no way for you to know that,” he croaks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I do,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “And I don’t need to.” He hesitates, then reaches for the Yiling Patriarch's hand. He grips it tight, and the Yiling Patriarch lets him. “You are good.”

The Yiling Patriarch draws in a shaky breath. “Wei Ying,” he blurts. “Courtesy Wuxian. That’s. My name.”

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his lips curve into a smile. “Wei Ying,” he repeats. “Wei Ying, you are good.”

#antebunny's ficlets #my writing #writeblr #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wen qing #wen ning #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian

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nanasparadise · 3 years

Note

Please~ yandere la squadra with a darling that heals them after a battle? Angel 👼 anon but Christmas inspired~

Hi anon! I hope you had a beautiful Christmas! <3 I know I’m super late (T-T), but I hope you still enjoy the headcannons! Where I live, it’s still freezing cold, so the Christmas spirit still lingers a bit in the air.

!!!!! TW: mentions of blood and wounds, implied stalking, implied NSFW, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY !!!!!

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Yan! La Squadra x gender-neutral Stand user reader who heals them during a battle (Christmas edition)

Yan! Risotto

Risotto hates to go to you for help: he likes to appear strong in front of you.

But the battle has been tough and his wounds are quite deep.

You rush immediately to the hitman, inspecting the severity of the wounds.

With your Stand, you’re able to heal him pretty fast and effectively.

Risotto keeps staring at you throughout the whole healing process, red eyes boring intensely into yours.

It does make you quite uncomfortable.

But you push that thought away and instead sigh: why did Risotto have to get into trouble on Christmas?

After you’ve patched him up, you try to look out for the other hitmen in case they need your help as well.

But the silver-haired man puts his calloused hands on your wrists under a tight grip and keeps fixating you.

You are surprised by his action, but he simply states that he needs you in this moment and that you shouldn’t worry about the others.

For Risotto, this admittance of weakness bothers the Italian. But he’d rather like you only for himself. The capo can’t help the feeling of jealousy and possessiveness rising up in him like bile whenever he sees you with the other team members – or anyone that isn’t him, for a fact.

You want to escape his grasp, but something in his gaze – something dangerous that you shouldn’t unleash – makes you remain by his side.

The capo bores again his intense eyes into yours. You feel as though he pierces right through your soul. For you, the quiet feels unbearable. On the other hand, for Risotto, this moment of calmness feels like bliss, like the perfect Christmas present, as he’s got everything he needs right next to him now.

“Good God, Risotto!” “It’s fine, it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Risotto, could you please let me go? I need to look after the others.” “They’re fine. I need you more by my side.”

Yan! Illuso

Illuso comes back with blood covering his clothes. He weakly breaks down on the nearest chair, too exhausted from the battle and the wounds.

You immediately notice the deep cut on his torso. Rapidly, you hurry to his side.

Illuso’s face is adorned with his typical smug smile as you approach him, despite his injury and severe blood loss.

Swiftly, his wounds are healed with your Stand. During the process, the hitman goes on confidently about how he beat the enemy to a bloody pulp. Though you quickly notice his boasting is just to distract himself from the pain.

After you’ve helped him with his injuries, you’re about to see the other hitmen, but Illuso quickly stops you.

The Italian shoots you again one of his self-assured grins and asks you to come sit next to him. With a sigh, you do as he told you.

Illuso mentions how you shouldn’t waste your time with the other members of the team, especially not on Christmas. After all, he could give you a much better time and already has a gift for you…

After all, Illuso knows exactly what you want for presents. He took his time observing you through your mirror to find out everything he needs to know about you.

You feel highly uncomfortable by his comment. So you decide to stand up and leave.

But before you could truly escape the situation, Illuso takes your arm with an iron grip. He discreetly nods at the mirror in the room.

You understand immediately the underlying threat. Not wanting to be dragged into the mirror world, you simply swallow the lump in your throat and sit down again. Internally, you curse your Stand, knowing that it is practically useless in a fight…

Illuso smiles at your compliance, a dark spark glimmering in his red eyes.

The brunette babbles about how he’s gonna make this Christmas perfect for you.

“Of course he was no match for Man in the Mirror. You should have seen how I disfigured his face.” “Sure, Illuso…”

“Why don’t you stay a bit? These men don’t deserve your attention. I can make this Christmas so much better for you, tesoro.”

Yan! Formaggio

Unlike the other members of the team, Formaggio comes with a crooked grin and cracking jokes when he perceives your form. Even though his bloody and bullet-ridden body was nothing to make fun of, you thought.

The Italian groans from time to time when you heal him, but he secretly also relishes the fact that you touch him so freely.

He keeps on talking about how he can’t wait for the holidays to be over so that the football season can start again. You simply roll your eyes and smile mindlessly at his comment.

Though the young man must admit that he likes the thought of you curled up in your arms while watching a cheesy holiday film.

You nervously chuckle, hoping this was just another one of his jokes.

But the green eyes that stare intensely back at you do make it hard to believe so.

You utter an apology, saying you should see the other hitmen, but your movement is halted by Formaggio’s hand on your upper arm.

The Italian flashes you another grin, though it appears much more sinister this time.

He suggest to stay, having already found the perfect film to watch for you two. You are well aware of the fact that it’s a threat, recognising the menacing edge in his voice.

You aren’t sure how to react: should you risk it and leave or should you just stay?

In the end, much to Formaggio’s satisfaction, you decide to remain with him. After all, this couldn’t be so bad. You two are friends, this doesn’t lead to something more, right?

Meanwhile, the hitman already plans the next intimate moments between you, not taking in account whether you want this or not.

“Well, look at that Y/N, I do give my name much honour with these holes in my body!” “Please Formaggio, don’t joke about that! You could have died.”

“C’mon babe, it’s just a nice evening between us! It’s Christmas, share the spirit, be kind and stay with me.”

Yan! Prosciutto

If it wasn’t for the trail of blood, you wouldn’t have noticed that Prosciutto is injured.

As usual, the blond hides his pain by putting on a perfect stoic face.

You heal him with your Stand, Prosciutto being silent during the treatment. You are shocked to see that his wounds are so deep.

After the process, you ask him about the battle. The assassin quickly gives you all the important information about the enemy, though he reassures you that they are dead now.

Prosciutto has a hard time keeping his professional façade up around you: he can’t help but feel touched by your sincere worry.

Wanting to share the information with the rest of La Squadra, you intend to leave the room. Though Prosciutto’s voice cutting through the air, that leaves no room for disobedience, stops you from doing so.

The Italian confidently asks you out for dinner, wanting to indulge you with his favourite Christmas recipe.

You raise an eyebrow at that invitation, shooting a questioning look at your colleague.

Prosciutto is fully aware of his out of character action, but you made him react untypically more often then you knew: when he kept thinking about you instead of concentrating on his mission, when he kept photos of you in his room, when he imagined your lips on his…

You politely decline his kind offer, pretending you don’t want to bother him. But it’s more the fact that your gut feeling says that something is wrong about the hitman’s sombre gaze.

Prosciutto clicks his tongue at your reaction. He simply takes ungently your hand and drags you out of the room.

You try as best to fight against him, but your resistance turns out to be futile.

The blond is visibly annoyed by your fighting. With The Grateful Dead, he ages your soft hand, leaving it all wrinkled.

You stare at your hand in distraught. You’re smart enough to see the threat behind his action. So you let him drag you out, too scared to act up again.

“Prosciutto, are you alright? You never say when you’re hurt.” “Showing weakness would put a bad example, now wouldn’t it?”

“Why must you always be so stubborn? I just want to take you out for dinner, it’s not too much asked for.”

Yan! Pesci

Pesci groans when he enters the room. He hates to see you worried because of him, but the battle left him in an excruciating pain.

You patch the hitman up as fast as you can, using your Stand efficiently.

During the healing process, the Italian’s dark eyes glisten with something you recognise as affection. You feel uncomfortable under his stare and don’t know how to react. You simply shove it off as him being an emotional friend and man in general.

Though his following words make it clear that he thinks of you more than just a colleague or friend.

Pesci gathers up all his courage. Shyly, he asks you if you would like to spend the remainder of the evening by his side. You could maybe bake some Christmas biscuits, if you like!

Immediately, pity blooms in your chest. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, knowing that he already suffers enough under the sneers of your teammates.

Still, you decline his offer. After all, you don’t want to falsely lead him on… To make it alright, you offer him to do something together with the team instead.

Already being emotional, Pesci’s eyes start to water. He insists spending time with you alone, nearly begging you.

The Italian goes on then about how he can never spend time with you alone… He just wants to participate for once and not being able to watch you doing activities with other people.

Majorly distressed by what he’s just told you, you don’t hesitate a second to leave the room, all sympathy for him gone.

The assassin doesn’t follow you, lucky for you.

Again, Pesci is all by himself, without your presence. It’s going to be a lonely Christmas for him.

“Thank you so much for healing me, Y/N! You’re really like an angel.” “Oh stop it, you’re exaggerating…”

“Please, I’m begging you to stay! It’s going to be fun, I promise! I just want you all for myself, just for once.”

Yan! Melone

It’s untypical for Melone to actively engage in a battle. So when he comes back from the mission, being wounded severely, you are more than surprised.

Even though you tend to avoid the rather lecherous man for his inappropriate comments towards you, you don’t hesitate to heal him. After all, he’s still your teammate.

Seeing you so willingly tending his injuries seems like an open invitation for the assassin to continue his usual dirty talk with you (which of course it isn’t).

He bathes into your warm touch on his cool, naked skin, caused by the cold temperature outside.

You wrinkle your nose at his rather disgusting remarks, threatening him to just let him bleed out the next time, to which the Italian only laughs.

After you’ve fully healed him, you intend to immediately rush out of the room, desperate to create some space between you and Melone.

Your escape appears to be fruitless though as a gloved hand grips tightly on your upper arm. The hitman has surprisingly lots of strength for his slim build.

With eyes of a predator, Melone lets his gaze wander over your body, lust and darkness swirling in his blue eyes.

You are unaware of how much he has longed for a moment with you. He’s grown tired of you avoiding him. You’re his perfect match: the compatible birth charts, the messages from the tarot cards, all of it let to you being his. Or so it should be, in his mind.

You are repulsed by him and do your best to get off from his grasp on you.

Melone doesn’t mind your resistance, perceiving it only as an encouragement for his advances.

He rambles about how he’s got some fun Christmas games prepared for you. Though you definitely don’t want anything about the nature of these supposed games…

With one final push, you finally manage to get out of his hold, a scowl adorning your face. Throwing a rude comment at him, you eventually leave Melone and his creepy tendencies.

The Italian watches you storming off, a smirk on his face. He doesn’t worry about this incidence. He will get you afterwards, he’s made sure off it.

“You should touch me more often like that, amore.” “You’re disgusting Melone, next time I’ll leave you out to die.”

“I’ve got some special games for you prepared. And if you behave well, I make sure to give you a gift.” You get sick to your stomach at his words.

Yan! Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio seethes with anger as he stumbles through the door. Why did he have to get attacked this bad by the enemy? Though he’s more than proud to have annihilated them.

As you see the man clutching his wounded side enter, you make your way to him to heal him, earning a scornful look by the prideful Italian.

What you don’t know is that his ego is only that big because he wants, like Risotto, appear strong in front of you.

During the healing process, a string of insults escape the assassin’s mouth. You roll your eyes at the dramatic behaviour.

Ghiaccio has a hard time to express his affection for you. At first, he has been annoyed by you infiltrating his mind, but now he has grown tender to it. He wishes he could be more soft with you, but having his feelings under control has never been his strong suit. Though he wants to try it today, because what day could be better than Christmas?

You grow uncomfortable by the hitman’s intense gaze. Tentatively, you ask him if everything’s alright.

Ghiaccio snaps out of his thoughts. Impulsively, he just blurts out if you wanna spend Christmas with him.

He keeps on going, saying that he usually hates the cheesiness that comes with the holiday, but he would like to make it a nice experience for you, with him by your side…

You interrupt his rambling by saying that you already spend the holidays with your family off-base.

Hearing your answer, the assassin’s hot anger returns. He’s making an effort for you, could you not see that? Why would you decline his offer then?

You are about to leave him as suddenly ice hits your feet and legs and you are frozen to the floor, giving you no choice as to remain in the room.

Ghiaccio didn’t mean to use White Album on you, but he can’t help it if you act so stubborn and ungrateful. Now you would spend Christmas with him for sure.

“This little son of a-“ “Ghiaccio please, calm down.”

“Spend Christmas with me. I know, I hate this corny shit, but with you, it will be more bearable.”

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