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simpcxty · 3 years

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Y/n Kaminari

TW: smut, marijuana use. Characters aged up to 21! Shiggy discovers his quirk doesn’t work when he’s having sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink shiggy, consensual sex,

I realized I had been neglecting my dear villains, so. Shiggy Fuckers, because I know you’re out there. I’m one of them. Don’t say I don’t love you. Here you go.

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Part 1 -

PART 2

It actually ends up being a month later till you see him again.

But not in the normal alley. No.

Right outside his hideout. So he thinks he must be seeing things. His brain must be showing him what he wants to see.

But then he sees two friends next to you and he realizes that’s not the case. It’s Saturday, he shouldn’t be surprised.

He wants to touch you, or at least have you look his way.

How desperate does that sound? So he keeps walking, walking towards his destination, which just so happens to be two stores past you.

Well damn.

Were his eyes deceiving him? Are you wearing his hoodie again? Fuck. You’re gonna kill him, and that baby blue skirt with fishnets? You’re gonna give him a heart attack. You’re going to give him a stroke. Because the way his hoodie scrunched around the skirt pulled the fabric up and you seemed to be getting irritated with the blue skirt.

He’s almost relieved when you don’t look up from whatever it is your friends are showing you as he gets into the dispensary, finally able to take a breath.

“Damn Boss, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He rolls his eyes at Dabi and walks behind the counter to get what he needs. Dabi mumbled something about a smoke break as he walked downstairs and Shigaraki nodded.

He mostly just needed a joint refill and a new cartridge but he grabbed an eighth anyway and sighs as the bell to the door signals someone had walked in.

“We’re closed for-“ but then he’s shutting up because as he stands up from behind the display, he sees you. Beautiful, right in front of him, perfect, squeezable, lovable you. Right in front of him and his eyes must be deceiving him right? You didn’t even notice him as he walked past. Right?

“Well damn, and I was hoping to get a few things-“

“Not to you- never to you.” Your eyebrow quirks at that.

“We’re never closed to you.” He’s blushing and you smile.

Tomura’s mouth went dry. He had already stuffed his new weed products into his hoodie pocket and was about to head downstairs to get prepared to be absolutely gone until he went looking for you tomorrow.

“Do me a favor and lock the front door? I’m going on a smoke break after this and I don’t know how long Dabi is going to take.” You blushed.

“How will I leave then?” You did it anyway and he just chuckles.

“You think you’re leaving babe?” Did he just? Yes. Yes he did. Oh my god he did.

If only he could just take you downstairs right now.

He was almost shocked when he heard what you were getting but then he felt you tug on his sleeve and he’s immediately forgetting that he’s supposed to be grabbing your products.

He seems to forget how to breathe when he finally urges himself to look at you. Really look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful and he knows that but he can’t help just wanting to fall asleep and wake up next to you, you’re so beautiful he can’t handle it at times. Your dyed blue hair had started to fade and it was fading into a pale little baby blue like his at the tips, still fairly dark at the roots. Needless to say. He was living for it, and the way you’d occasionally lick your lips and drag your tongue over your lip piercings.

When he finally wills himself to grab your chin he immediately leans in, and he wants to kiss you so bad but this stupid display is in the way, and he’s almost tempted to hop over it.

He doesn’t, instead opting to quickly grabbing the shit you ordered, stuffing it in a bag and dropping it on the counter. You grabbed it of course, but after that he’s leading you around the counter and grabbing your chin again with his pointer and thumb, just like every other time.

You’re the one that connects the kiss and after that he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and tapping your thigh.

You took the hint pretty quickly and let out a cute little ‘hmph’ as you slightly hop and wrap your arms and legs around him. Tomura only broke the kiss to walk down the stairs.

But you. You on the other hand. You were shoving your face in his neck and sucking dark purple marks that’d be visible to anyone who ends up looking his way tomorrow and the following days of the next coming week.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to take so long. I missed you so much.” He tightens his grip around you as he makes his way to his room.

You stop your attack on his neck and your legs seem to tighten around him involuntarily.

“It’s okay Shig, I know you can’t control it.” He groans at that. Why do you have to be so damn understanding? It’s frustratingly hot.

“Gonna fuck you so nice and full. How does that sound baby?” Baby? The whine that comes from you when he says it has him pulling you closer. Accidentally but not so accidentally pushing your waist closer to his, making his already hardening member in his uncomfortably tight jeans twitch.

He closes and locks his door behind him when he strides into the room, thanking god for Kurogiri cleaning the rooms today.

He’s gonna have to start working on his messes and get used to cleaning them up of course. Just not this one.

“I’m gonna make such a beautiful mess of you babe.” Babe too? The way he pinned you to his bed so quickly had your cheeks flushing.

“I think I wanna start with your pretty legs pushed to your chest huh? How does that sound baby?” You nodded quickly.

“Please Shig, I’ve been dreaming about it, please fuck me-“ he chuckles and a hand wraps around your throat with the obvious exception of one finger, and he grinds his hips against yours.

“You don’t have to worry baby, I’m definitely going to fuck you, but I have to make sure it’s good don’t I?” You nodded and he’s tearing through the crotch of your fishnets earning a whine from you.

“Shiggy! These are new!” He laughs.

“I’ll buy you new ones, look at how pretty they look on your legs. I can’t help but want to ruin you in them.” His four fingers drag across your legs, the soft fabric of the fishnets dragged across your legs and you sighed contently.

“I got them for you.” He pauses at that and his cock twitches in his jeans once again.

“What did you just say?” Your cheeks are flushed and you’re looking away timidly.

“I thought you’d like them. I guess I was right?” He nods quickly and he’s finally undoing his jeans and shoving them down just enough to pull himself out.

“I fucking love them.”

“I’m gonna make this fun baby, you’ll be too wrecked to even go home tonight.” If your legs would have been around him, you would’ve tightened them around him, he could feel the way your thighs tensed while he held them against your chest.

“Awe and your parents will probably be so worried!” You whined at that and you’re finally looking down at his throbbing member. He’s way bigger than you were expecting, but not scarily huge.

The moment he pushes your panties to the side and starts sliding in, you’re wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clenching around him and he’s trying not to cry because you feel so good. You’re letting him do this and you like it. You want this just as much as he does, and because of that. He just can’t help the words that spill out of him.

“F-Fuck, s-so good, s- oh fuck, you’re heavenly!” And tears pool in his eyes as he and you both adjust because the euphoria you’re both feeling from just this is driving you both insane and his hips twitch forward.

“M’gonna move okay?” You nodded and as soon as he had placed his hand down on your thigh, he pulled away and halfway out of you, but the intensity of it all as he did it kept him from leaving your warm cunt.

“SHIT! Shit, Shit, Shit! Are you okay?” But you’re fine, in fact not a single scratch on you, and you’re just confused, but he’s too scared to risk it again.

“S-Shig, please move.” Suddenly he’s reminded of who you are. Where you both are. You’ve got tears in your eyes as you lead his hand to your neck, the same hand you should be decaying from currently. With his middle finger in your hand he squeezes your neck with a tighter force than you’re expecting but you moan and he’s dropping it. It wasn’t enough to hurt badly at all, it just caught you off guard, and apparently him too, his brain is rattled, you should be partially decayed right now.

“That was new.” He nods. Something seemed different in his eyes. He can’t focus now, not that he could before.

“I need to try something. Do you trust me?” You nodded and he goes for it.

He can pull away, is what he tells himself. But his whole hand is touching- no squeezing your thigh and nothing happens. So he puts his other hand down experimentally on your other leg and nothing happens.

That’s when his hands are pushing your thighs back to your chest and he’s plowing into you and you gasp and throw your head back.

“Shit- f-fuck Tomura slow down.” He halts his movements all together and bottoms out inside of you.

His hands let go of your thighs and you let out a breath of relief as you put them down. You were so incredibly full right now. On his end though, he’s holding on for dear life. The grip your cunt has around him is suffocatingly sweet and he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Hoodie off. As pretty as you look in it, I need to touch all of you.” He does the same, stripping his shirt and the same time, and twitching inside you when you take off his hoodie to reveal you were only wearing a bra underneath.

“You’re so beautiful. I need more of you. I need you so fucking badly it hurts.” You choked out a gasp when he twitches inside of you again.

“I’m here, I’m all yours, please move Shig I didn’t want you to stop.” You wrap your legs around his waist and the slutty shy moan you whine into his ear has him smiling.

“No Princess, you asked me to slow down. So I’ll take it nice and slow for you, okay?” He’s taunting you. You know he is, because his hands come in contact with the skin of your waist and the tears that had pooled in his eyes are slipping down his cheeks, but he wipes them quickly and pulls out to finally kick his jeans off the rest of the way. He’s just as desperate for this as you are. He’s just teasing you about it.

The slow thrusts he gives you once he’s inside you again make you actually start crying.

“Shig, please! Fuck me faster! I didn’t mean this slow plea-“ and you’re cut off by your own moans as he starts to pick up speed, bottoming out with each thrust and holding you against him for a good second every time your hips met.

“What would your parents think of you right now Y/n? Such a slutty little girl for your special villain huh? Fucking me in my dispensary and wrapping your thighs around my face in an alley? You’re all mine, isn’t that right pretty girl?” You nod quickly, but the words that come out of your mouth make him love you even more than before.

“I’m all yours Shig. I don’t care what my parents think, just want you, just wanna be with you.” His thrusts start to stutter at that but he recovers and suddenly grips your waist harder and thrusts quicker.

“Wanna be with me? Babe you are. You’re mine. No one will ever hurt you while I’m around.” His hips are stuttering and your legs are tightening around him as he spills into you and he’s wrapping his arms around you. Tears pool in his eyes once again and he’s holding you tightly against him as close as he possibly can while he fills you with his cum, and when he sees the way you’re looking up at him.

He goes feral.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine! Mine!!” Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you at a specific angle bottoming out once again as he stills and you cry out quietly but desperately while you cream around his cock.

“You’re all mine. My special girl. I love you so much. So fucking pretty when you cum babe. You’re so tight and warm. Gonna fill you so nicely and give you a baby. How’s that sound?” You nod quickly and he smiles.

“Good. So good for me babe. Gonna make you a mommy. You don’t mind, do you?” You’re whining and your legs are tightening around him, as well as your cunt. So fucking warm and welcoming, and he’s reveling in it.

“F-Fuck! Don’t d-do that, gonna make me cum again.” He’s whining and groaning in your ear as he pulls you closer and you push your hips up.

“I need you to fill me up Shig, I wanna walk around with your cum soaking my panties like you said, please, I need it Shig plea-nngh~” he’s thrusting again quickly.

He really didn’t need to hear anymore once you had said that.

“That sounds so hot babe, but you’re not leaving tonight. Not when it’s so dangerous at night, there are criminals. Don’t you know?” You let out a breathy laugh as he rolls his hips.

“You are that criminal Shig.” He leans forward, chest pressed against yours and his hands are suddenly roaming around your whole torso, squeezing and groping the skin as he wholeheartedly just feels you.

“Imagine the headlines Shig- Can’t you imagine? ‘Daughter of Pro Hero Electoplant gone missing?!’ Only for me to show up at home a few days later.” You’re laughing when you say it and he even chuckles with you, but the more he thinks about it the more he picks up the speed of his thrusts.

“Don’t want to leave you again. Just wanna cuddle all night and keep you warm.” His voice is cracking and his thrusts seem to slow stilling inside you as he shoves his face in your neck.

“Need to make sure you’ll come back to me.” He’s pressing his lips against your neck and it’s so foreign. Normally it’s his hands that wrap around your throat that makes you whine but as he nips gently and sucks roughly on your neck, you clench around him and he whimpers as he sucks harshly.

“If I’d have known that you loved me abusing your neck so much, I’d have started sooner.” Your legs tighten around his hips and it’s then that he realizes he stopped thrusting.

“S-So tight, fuck m’gonna cum again.” His voice is higher and he’s whining with each soft thrust as he pushes into you slowly again. The way you’re sucking him in has to be a crime because you’re so warm and squishy, and tight. He’s already convinced himself that he’s sleeping like this, buried inside you, that’s what he wants. needs.

“Gonna breed you. Fill you so nice and full. My beautiful baby. Gonna make such a beautiful mommy.” You’re cumming around his cock again as he says it, he had started to pick up his thrusts now and the thought of all of this was turning you on beyond belief.

You never really wanted kids, now thats different though of course. He’s changed everything.

“Doing so good Shig-“ he’s interrupting you before he himself can even register what he’s saying.

“Tenko. You say Tenko.” Your eyes bulge a bit as he picks up his speed.

“P-Please g-go harder Tenko plea-hnnGh~” Your whines come out desperately after that. You couldn’t seem to get a hold of yourself as he drills into you at a seemingly inhuman pace.

“F-Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck! M’gonna cum. Gonna fill you so nicely with my cum and cockwarm you after.” His hands squeeze your hips and the sight of your mouth agape, tongue lolled out, and eyes crossed seems to engrave itself in his brain.

“Say it again babe. Call for me, say my name.” You gasp out a desperate whimper and your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders.

“T-T-Tenko, please! F-fuck-“ you’re cut off by more whines and moans as he drills into you harder.

“So close. S-So fucking close babe.” He tightens his grip on your hips even more and you’re squealing as you squirt around him and he fills you up one final time.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight Y/n.” He lays his head on your chest and catches his breath.

“Can I stay? Feels so good.” He lifts his head to look at you and you nod quickly.

“M’so full Shig-“

“Tenko. Never forget what you’re allowed to use that others don’t know.” You blushed and clenched around him earning a nice gasp from him as he looks down to your connected areas.

“Tenko you’re so pretty.” Your hand reaches to cup his cheek and he tears up.

“W-What..?” He looked like he was going to cry as he looked into your eyes now, which ultimately wasn’t your goal.

“T-THAT’S NOT A BAD THING-!” You sputter and kiss his forehead while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I know. I just- I’ve never- I never thought that-“ he cuts himself off by shoving his flushed face in your neck.

“You’re so fucking pretty Tenko. You keep me so safe and make me feel so special. It’s weird but if I didn’t have you I think I’d be losing my mind being stuck in that stupid pro-hero family.” He snickers.

“Don’t you have your license?” He’s snickering as he says it and you nod.

“Yeah, but I’m not an active hero, I only use my quirk when people are actually in trouble and I see it. Sorry but I’m not gonna become a hero just to be a shitty one.” He nodded. He admired your opinion on it to an extent. But why did you think you’d be a shitty one?

That’d be a question for another day, because his level of fatigue is finally starting to hit him and he’s falling asleep on top of you.

The next morning he’s still buried inside you with his arms wrapped tightly around you, but your phone is blowing up with messages from your friends, mom and dad, and Denki and you can’t reach it without shifting a bit.

“Damn it.” You felt the man on top of you managing to tighten his grip on you.

“Don’t leave me. Not yet. M’not ready yet.” His voice cracks as he says it, and you send your family group chat a quick message.

‘I’m with a friend. Be home soon.’ You were moving out in a few days anyway. It’s not like they could ground you.

“I’m not leaving Tenko. Just had to text a few people.” You’re reminded of those people as they start to spam your phone again.

Demanding that ‘NO! YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY!’ Not that you listened.

“I’m moving.” He tenses, and you can tell he’s scared to ask the question.

“Where?” You smiled.

“You know the apartment complex right across the street from my favorite sweets shop?” Please. Because if you’re playing with him, it’s not funny.

That’s five minutes away from here. He nods and you gasp as he makes a move to finally start pulling out of you.

“So there?” You nodded quickly and he chuckles.

“Come shower with me. Nothing else, I promise.” You nodded and you could stand. It was the feeling of his cum starting to move that mad you sit right back down.

He snickers and picks you up with the exception of his middle fingers again.

“Having issues?” You simply let out a cute little, ‘hmph.’ So he decides to leave it at that.

“Thank you.” You’re confused when he says it.

“For what?” He sets you down in the warm water that he had started running and the familiar feeling of his cum starting to run out of you comes back as he steps in.

You should be disgusted. Grimacing in fact. But as his cum finally starts to leak out of you he can’t seem to answer you for what he’s thankful for.

“That’s- I uhm, I-“ his face flushes and he shuts up when he realizes you’re just as flustered as he is.

“Y-Y-Fuck. You look so pretty like this. So vulnerable all for me.” He whispers it in your ear and the thought of you grabbing his dick never even crossed his mind. But then you do it, and he can’t help but fall a little more in love as you run your thumb over the slit of his tip, earning a loud whine as he bucks his hips forward.

You both eventually get out of his room. After more sex of course and more of his cum being stuffed inside of you.

What you really weren’t counting on however, was running into Pro Hero Hawks as you leave Tomura’s room, as he comes down the stairs.

“Y/n? What are you doing here? Your dad said that you haven’t been answering your phone-“

“Well- I mean, it’s weird. Using your phone in a dispensary and all.” You shrugged and he chuckled.

“For a whole day?” You coughed and sputtered before speaking again.

“Well! I should be on my way! Don’t wanna keep the pro heroes waiting!” You gave him little finger guns and Hawks grabs your wrist only for you to yank it away quickly.

“Don’t touch people for no reason Takami. It makes you seem pervy.” He goes to grab you again but you swerve past him to walk up the stairs.

“Kaminari! Are you a villa-“ you laughed before he could finish.

“No. I’m just fucking one-“ you cut yourself off by slapping your hands over your mouth.

“Welp. I outta go.” You’re up the stairs and out the door before he can say anything else, and it’s then that he sees Tomura leave the same room you came out of.

“I’m sorry. What?!”

#my hero academia #mha shigaraki #shigaraki smut #shigaraki fluff #tomura shigaraki #tomura x y/n #tomura x reader #tomura smut #tenko shimura #mha imagines #mha smut

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ecoamerica · 15 days

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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One, Two, Three: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You and Geto have to get away for a week because clerical work isn’t fun, and he’s dying for a break from Satoru. But a private balcony on a private residence on the beach doesn’t exactly equate to playing in the sand, does it?

words: 2092

tw: nsfw (smut, light pain play, exhibitionism?)

Lips dance around the crook of your neck and down your shoulder blade, making you gasp into the crisp spring air.

“A private balcony… a private residence…” You begin to put the pieces together as your wrap dress easily comes undone in Suguru’s hands. He chuckles behind you, smoothing his fingers over the swell of your breasts and down to your slightly rounded stomach.

“I’m nothing if not purposeful,” he breathes into your ear, making you shudder. “This week is just for us. Like I said, no missions, no curses, and definitely no Satoru.” The promise of no Gojo elated you to the point that you were pushing Suguru out of the door the day of the trip, hoping to avoid the terribly nosy companion on the way out.

Ever since you and Suguru had quietly announced your pregnancy four months ago, Satoru had launched into a full campaign to be the “best uncle” to your unborn child. It was mildly annoying at first, with him showing up unannounced to your private dates to make sure “you were eating the right things”. Then it progressed to shadowing you during your training as a desk worker, making sure no one “stressed you out too much”. If you so much as sighed at the computer, he’d grab the keyboard and type faster than you could comprehend, thus doing your job for you.

But this week, you’d be relaxing with Suguru on the beach, listening to nothing but the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore and the occasional sound of wildlife. No clicking of keys, no shuffling of papers, nothing.

Suguru brings you back to the present moment by taking your neck in one hand and sliding his other hand down the front of your underwear, pressing your pussy lips apart. “I’ve got you to myself all week.” You moan low in your throat as he begins his slow ministrations around your clit, his fingers tenderly rubbing the nub. His lips come to the sensitive point behind your earlobe, and you exhale deeply as you feel the tension building in your core. The raven-haired sorcerer behind you takes in all of your exhales, all of your pants and moans, and delivers them back to you in an endless stream of pleasure. Another shudder passes through you and goes straight to your clit. The sensitivity builds as his fingers dance over it, smearing your slick around and almost playing with it to torment you.

“Su…” At this, he dips a finger into you, and your head sinks back onto his broad shoulder. You see his eyes widen just a fraction, a gentle breath passing between his lips as he fingers you shamelessly on the balcony of the rented home. His middle finger rocks against the inside of your cunt, hitting the soft spot with ease. You can’t help but rock your hips against the palm of his hand, painting his unoccupied fingers with your wetness. “Suguru, please!”

“Say my name as loud as you want,” he sings, making his movements just a little faster before adding another finger easily into your dripping cunt. You grip the wooden railing of the balcony just a fraction tighter and hope that soon, his fingers will be replaced by the thick cock rubbing against your ass. Bucking against his hand, you feel the pressure of release building even more and engulfing your thoughts.

His fingers are doing a delicate kick against your soft spot, and you’re losing your control as Suguru reaches a hand down to palm your breast, tugging at the nipple. You cry out, feeling the tender flesh give way to pain as he rolls it between his fingers again. “Should’ve given it to you much sooner, huh?” His fingers slide out of you, and with one hand, he forces his boxers down around his ankles. With his wet fingers, he pumps his now freed cock eagerly, the angry red tip a sure sign of his desire to be buried inside of you.

Without apologies, he pulls off your underwear, snapping the flimsy thing in half and letting it fall to the ground before angling your hips upward. “Lean forward,” he mumbles, and you rest your elbows on the railing. The head of his cock slides around your entrance for a little while, becoming wet from your own arousal.

When he pushes in, your mouth forms a neat “o” and you inhale deeply while Suguru groans. The filling sensation takes you a minute to adjust to, but when your walls unclench from around his cock, he knows he can move without restriction. He rocks his hips back and forth, hissing at the contact of his balls against your cunt once he sinks into you fully. It takes you both a minute to decide to incrementally speed up, and you thrust your hips back to meet his with ease.

“Shit, y/n…” His hands rest on your hips while he sinks into you time and time again. You look over your shoulder at the man and find his hair is slipping from the neat bun he always wears, his bangs flopping over his grimacing face. You reach a hand between your legs and play with yourself while he maintains his speed.

“Fuck, Suguru,” you growl, and he takes your expression as a need for more, which he answers with a hand on your swollen breast as he tweaks your nipple again, moving his hips much faster. “Su-gu-ru!” A whine begins low in your throat, but is torn from you while your walls contract around his cock and fingers rub the last sensations from your clit. The orgasm lasted a fraction of the time it normally did, and Suguru notices right away.

“That’s it…” His thrusts stutter a little, but he isn’t coming. Not even close. He resumes his normal pace, and your hands quickly find the railing again. “Count your orgasms for me.”

“One,” you pant, and he smiles sweetly, pushing your curls away from your face.

“Three should do the trick, hmm?” His question is punctuated by a deep thrust, and you gasp, losing your balance. “Or maybe four will do…” He pulls out and turns you so you’re facing him before picking you up. With his impressive strength and coordination, he presses you between the stone wall and his bulky frame, capturing your lips in a kiss before sliding back into you.

“Unhh…” The feeling of his hard length inside of you empties your mind, and it isn’t long before Suguru starts to move. His face hovers above yours, eyes focused on your facial expressions as he takes his time drawing soft cries and moans from your lips. “That feels so damn good…” A smile tugs at his lips while he moves your arms around his neck, then trails a few kisses down your face. The sorcerer’s hips rut forward eagerly, but his thrusts aren’t ravenous enough to repeatedly smack your back against the stone wall. But they are enough to fan the flames of desire tenfold. Somehow, every single time you were at his mercy, he found a way to make you unravel until you held no thoughts or memories in your head. The only thing that would be left were the ripples of pleasure he’d give you.

“Su… I need you t--” When one of his fingers hits your clit, you gasp and angle your head back. Your eyes close as he moves his fingers in circles; somehow knowing exactly what you need before you can even articulate it. He presses his lips to yours again, muffling your cries of pleasure only a fraction. “Oh, god,” you moan into his mouth, giving him a chance to slip his tongue between your teeth and kiss you even deeper. You tangle your fingers into his messy hair, tugging gently on the strands as he continues rutting into you.

When Suguru breaks the kiss, he hoists you off the wall and into the bedroom, laying you gently on the impossibly soft sheets. You expect him to re-enter you, but the expectation was only met with a tongue lapping against your core. “Oh, fuck!” You almost shoot right off the bed, but Suguru steadies you with hands against your legs, pressing them back open easily. You lift your head a little higher to watch him eagerly devour you, his eyes meeting yours.

Watch me, he seemed to say without speaking. Watch me turn you into a mess.

The thought was too much. You lay back on the bed as his teeth graze your overly sensitive clit, groaning from the equal dose of pain and pleasure. His tongue swirled around you without care, hitting all of the right spots as if it were a pinball machine. Suguru moans into your cunt when you grab his hair again, and his hairtie falls out completely, letting his inky locks cascade around his face. Combined with his hand pushing back the hair that obscured his view of you, his gaze transfixed you completely.

It was all just too much, and you gasp before your mind hits that point where the only thing you can think of is nothingness and the only word that flies out of your mouth is Suguru’s name. You rock against his face greedily, hoping that you can ride out just one more orgasm on the heels of your second one, but Suguru knows your tricks by now. Lifting off of you, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grasps his cock, and sinks into your heat once more.

“Count,” he whispers darkly against your ear, reminding you of your duty.

“Two!” The word comes out choked, as if he had his hand around your neck, but the only thing he’s doing is making you see stars after your second orgasm.

“You can’t tap out now,” Suguru laughs, seeing your cross-eyed stare. “I need you to hold on for me; only one more.” You only whine in response, feeling the tip of his cock touch your cervix. His arms were caging you in, holding you underneath him with precision.

“I don’t know if I --”

“Oh, yes you can.” His response is clipped short by a loud moan, and you feel his pace quicken. “I know you can.” Suguru’s lips latch onto your other nipple, tugging and pulling and driving you insane. You write beneath him, lifting your knees to add to the depth of his strokes and perhaps even allow him to hit that one spot…

The sensation of needing to pee crashes over you quickly, and you grasp Suguru’s arm, struggling to hold on. He hisses at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, but it only adds to his own feelings of euphoria. “Oh, my god, y/n.”

You whimper, trying to find purchase with anything anywhere, even going so far as to dragging your nails across his back hard enough to draw blood. But in your ecstasy, you don’t hear Suguru exclaim in shock. All you can feel is his cock sending you straight to heaven with no stops along the way. When the dam finally breaks, your legs shake vigorously, wetness running down to the sheets like a river. And Suguru finds his release in yours, pumping his cock into you as he cums, adding to the mess. You both lay there for a moment, sweat dripping down Suguru’s body and onto yours as you both catch your breath.

While he goes soft inside of you, you kiss his face before finding his lips and pressing tender pecks there. Suguru slides out of you completely after a moment, then falls onto the bed beside you. Rolling onto your side, you nestle close to his body heat, feeling cum leaking out of you but not minding the sensation at all. “Three.”

Suguru chuckles, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And that’s when you feel it.

A little flutter on your right side.

You lift your head to meet Suguru’s eyes and find him, as always, looking back at you. This time, it’s not with laser focus, but with confusion. “Did he just--” Suguru insisted it was a boy - because he” just knows these things” - even going so far as to call your unborn child “my first-born son” whenever he spoke about it with Shoko and Satoru.

“I think so…” you laugh, and when you look down at your belly, you see a little raised bump slowly receding for the first time.

#geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jjk shoko ieiri #gojo satoru

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: talks of spencers major anxiety, parental death tw (not Diana or bob and Linda), trauma talks, computer hacking and new members joining the family...

word count: 4k

from the beginning <3

Taylors biggest surprise that weekend was what she had planned for Amoreena that night.

She set up a fort in the theatre room, they had every snack imaginable and any movie of her choice to watch. Karaoke in the corner, popcorn being popped in a theatre-style machine, and 3 different, matching child and adult, princess dresses for them to choose from.

It was all an elaborate plan to keep her preoccupied until bedtime, which Taylor offered to handle so that her parents could have a little wedding night date alone.

They’re all ready for a wonderful night when Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Spencer answers, sneaking away from the girls so he could hear better.

“Spencer, I am so sorry to interrupt you this late, but we have a situation… it’s not something that should be discussed over the phone. Do you have someone to watch Amoreena while you and Y/N come into the bureau? As soon as you can?”

His stomach drops, he feels instantly sick. “Not until you tell me who’s dead, who’s dying or who’s trying to kill us.”

“No one is, Spencer, it’s not a case or criminal related, it’s… personal, someone is here to see you,” she sounds serious and Spencer is still just as worried.

“I’ll tell the girls,” he responds before hanging up.

Y/N is standing right behind him, listening with wide eyes as she waits to soothe his panic. They worked like a well-oiled machine, she could physically feel his anxiety and in return, something about her just being there made him physically feel better.

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asks as she appears behind Y/N, Amoreena now off changing into one of the dresses she picked.

“They won't tell me on the phone but they need me and Y/N back at Quantico as soon as possible,” Spencer explained with a pale face, “we can go in the morning.”

“I’m fine watching Amoreena for the night, there’s a hanger down the road with a few of my dad’s planes, I can have someone take you to Virginia within the next hour? It's only 7 pm, I’m sure you can be back before bedtime?” Taylor offered her services for the 100th time that day, “It’s not a problem, really, and they wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious, they’re the FBI after all.”

With that, they said goodbye to Amoreena and told her they’d be back before she woke up in the morning. If not, she had Y/N’s cellphone for the night to call them before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up, so she won't bother Taylor that early. (Even though Taylor said she wouldn’t mind early morning Amoreena cuddles.)

He was anxious on the drive to the small airport, the old man named Norman, chartering them that night was incredibly kind, they were granted lading access in Quantico and before he could prepare, they were up in the air. He chatted up a storm with Y/N on the headset radio as Spencer overthought the upcoming chat with JJ and stared out at the world below them.

On queue, he jumped from anxious to scared when they land, before getting in the shuttle from the airstrip to the front entrance, but he’s so incredibly terrified when it comes time to actually start the walk to the bullpen.

“Will you come in with me?” His small voice asks as she is pinning a visitors tag on her shirt.

“Of course,” she smiled, taking his hand as they walked into the elevator together.

He grips her hand tighter as the elevator stops, dipping and returning to the right height and making his stomach drop the same way a rollercoaster would. He hated that feeling more than anything, having it alongside the anxiety wasn’t helpful.

He can see JJ and another girl sitting together at his old desk. She’s smiling at whatever JJ says, she looks exactly like Amoreena just with box-dyed black hair that shines purple under the lighting. She’s in all black, she pushes her glasses up her nose with her sweater hiding her hands, Spencer knows she’s a foster kid from just her posture.

“JJ,” Spencer makes their presence clear and the little girl turns to him with a huge smile, running to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hi?”

She’s sobbing ten and he doesn’t know why or even who she is, he lightly holds her with complete shock on his face. He stares at JJ with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he communicates the confusion and terror with his eyes.

“This is Josephine Elliot, or Jo as she likes to be called, her parents passed away a few months ago and she recently found out her biological father was actually a sperm donor and not her moms husband,” JJ explains a little before sighing and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“She hacked into the sperm bank and found your name, and google led her to the FBI and they stopped her at the second gate, the first only let her in thinking she was your other daughter, Amoreena.”

“I’m so sorry,” the poor girl wipes her tears with her sweater sleeves, “I don’t know why I hugged you when you don’t even know me, ew sorry.”

Spencer pulls her back into a hug, “it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about wanting a hug ever again. You can have whatever you need from me.”

She cries more, holding on to his shirt as he holds her, shushing her softly and rubbing his hand over her back. It’s weird how safe she seems this early in their acquaintance with one another, but he understands it. She’s so desperate for someone related to her to love her again, to replace what she was missing from her parents, that she’s already accepted him as a father without thinking it through. Without even know what he would be like to her.

When she finally calmed down enough, Spencer led her towards the briefing room so they could have a moment alone to talk. He wanted to know her, and she needed to know him before she made another big decision. He let her know who he was, what he used to do and the rundown on his relationship with Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you met her at the park and got married a week later because you both have dead exes and somehow through fate, you made a kid together?” She summed it up in a way that made it sound ridiculous.

“Mutual trauma is a great bonding tool, I’m sure you probably listen to rock music or anything sad and angry because you know someone feels the exact same way you do? I was like that when I was a teenager. We've both lost someone we loved and then made Amoreena out of pure luck,” he combated her snarky summary with his own profile of her.

“I actually like Taylor Swift, Paramore, Evanescence and Olivia Rodrigo when I need to scream about being sad, thank you very much,” she teased him, finding a very easy rhythm as they got to know one another.

“You’re going to lose your mind when you find out who’s with Amoreena right now,” Spencer smiles, somehow everything just fits together.

“What?” She looks so confused, scrunching her face the same way he did to push her glasses up without her hands.

“It’s a long story, but essentially we were at Taylor Swift’s house when JJ called, she’s watching Amoreena still,” Spencer explained, watching her jaw drop.

“Who the fuck are you, dude?” She whispered, and it took Spencer by surprise. “Sorry, I’m so used to swearing in front of adults lately to get my point across. But seriously, you’re so interesting…”

“Understandable,” Spencer laughs lightly at her strange compliment. “I have a lot of connections, and I’ll do anything to see the people I love, smile, that includes you now.”

“You barely know me and you’re just ready to accept that I’m your kid? Didn’t this just happen to you last week?” She laughs at the insanity of it all, “you’re going to have a million kids at this rate, dude.”

Again, she calls him dude and he knows she’s just trying to distance her emotions as they grow fonder and fonder. A coping mechanism so that she doesn’t get hurt anymore, she’s lost too much and she’s not going to love him just to lose him too.

“My dad ran out on me when I was a kid, I basically raised myself when my mom’s schizophrenia got bad, I know what it’s like to feel alone even when you’re with people who are supposed to love you,” he makes sure she knows who he is inside.

“I’m sorry,” she reaches a hand out for him, holding it softly. “I never really liked my dad growing up, he always felt off… I can’t explain it, but he was never the same guy twice he was either angry, miserable or scarily happy," she explains him and all Spencer can think is how he sounds like an unsub.

"I do miss my mom a lot, I didn’t know what else to do when I found out they couldn’t have babies together and she went to a Sperm bank without telling him. I know the names of your other kids too, besides Amoreena, I’m really surprised you found her mom without hacking the system too but, yeah, Dylan is 6 and Alice is 10, they’re both in DC with the same 2 mom’s, so if you didn’t want me, I was going to see if they would cause I’m technically their stepdaughter in a weird way and if I spent one more day in that foster home I would have ended it all,” it's a Reid rant, she's his for sure.

It takes him a minute to absorb it all, “wait, Amoreena is mine for sure?”

She nods like it’s a stupid question, “could you not tell my just looking at her? The 3 of us have the same face.”

“No, they wouldn’t tell us at the clinic,” Spencer is still in shock but more so that she got into the database so easily, “how did you do it?”

“It was easy, I had all the information about the sample my mom used so I just encrypted an email to the secretary of the sperm bank so as soon as she clicked the link to read more I’d have access to her computer, they didn’t even know I was in the system, they probably still don’t know I was there,” she explains it exactly how Penelope would.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever not want you,” Spencer holds her hand a little tighter, “I’m not sure what the process will be like trying to get the foster agency to agree to me taking you home with us, but I’ll see what I can do. We have a big house and enough room for you in our hearts if this is where you’d like to be. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, you might hate the farm life and the isolation and all the cousins you now have, but you’re a piece of me and I’m not letting you go.”

She uses her free hand to wipe her tears on her sleeve again, “please, I know it’s not going to be the same but I miss having a family so much.”

He wraps her up in his arms, he knows the feeling all too well. One day his mom was there, the next day she was gone and no one prepared him for that. She never had to do this alone, Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen to her.

“Y/N is wonderful, you’ll love her and Amoreena. We live on a huge farm and there’s a lot to do during the day and people to spend time with, believe me, you’re going to feel so surrounded by the love you won’t know what to do with it all,” he shares from personal experience.

“Okay,” she hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck as he talked more, feeling the vibrations of his voice on her forehead to know that he was real. That his words were true and she was going to be taken care of.

“Is there anything about yourself that you’d like me to know? Or any questions you have? I’m sure this is going to be an interesting adjustment,” Spencer asked as he pulled away, looking down into her sweet eyes and seeing the hope she was still hanging on to.

“Is Y/N even okay with all of this? It’s her house isn’t it?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she knew I had you and the other 2 out there somewhere, we just never expected to meet you so soon,” he’s as honest as possible, talking to her the same way he would with Henry, she seemed even more mature than him.

“Can she come in here too? I’d like to get to know her as well, see if she’s really as lovely as you say she is,” she smiled, coping with her trauma the same way he and Y/N did, with humour.

Almost like Y/N could feel him thinking about her, she knocked on the door before opening it a crack, “sorry, I have some updates,” she smiled.

Josephine smiled at her, “come in.”

Y/N sat down close to her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “my sister is a foster parent, she called her caseworker and they were able to rush the emergency next of kin paperwork, you can stay with us for as long as you would like to.”

“You’re serious? You barely know me?” She kept repeating that as if she convinced herself earlier in the day that they wouldn’t want to know her.

Y/N wrapped her up in a soft hug and Spencer saw all the tension leave Josephines body as she settled against her. It had been a long time since a mother held her, she didn’t realize how much she needed it until she was in her arms.

“You’re half Spencer, so by default you have a portion of my heart now too. I’m not going to love you as an obligation or because I feel like I have to, I love you because you’re part of him and our family,” she whispers into her hair, “I know what it’s like to be alone, you never have to be... unless we’re smothering you then I get it, but you know what I mean.”

She laughed in Y/N’s arms before pulling back. Y/N held her face in her hands and looked at her gently. She ran her fingers through her dyed hair, “you’re going to fit right in with the 4 of us.”

“Four?” She repeats, wondering who else they lived with.

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N smiles as Josephine lights up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a big sister,” she cried a little, “my mom named me after Jo from Little Women, she said she always planned to give me lots of sisters.”

“If this one is a girl she’ll be Eleonora like—“

“Like the poem, Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favourites,” Jo smiled again.

Somehow, without even being there, Amoreena’s mess of glitter glue was able to patch her older sister's broken heart right then and there too.

“I read really fast, my mom said she was going to go bankrupt buying books for me,” she opened up more and more, the hurt of the memories fading as she remembered them with happiness instead of mourning.

Her mom was gone, but the love of a mother filled her space once more. Y/N took her under her wing, keeping her warm and making sure he grew to be as happy healthy and wonderful as all her other babies.

—

They arrive at Taylor's door once again at 11:30. Amoreena is sound asleep in the spare room, not even able to change out of her princess costume or phone them to say goodnight. Taylor said she had a sugar crash and just asked to go to sleep, reminding Taylor that she had the best day ever before closing her tired little eyes.

Jo was very anxious to meet Taylor too, telling her a similar story to Y/N’s from just a few hours prior. Taylor made sure she was comfortable for the night in another spare room, making her a hot chocolate and some snacks from earlier that day at lunch. She was the best host, a wonderful friend and an even better honorary godparent to these girls of Spencer’s.

“Can I have a hug?” She sheepishly asks before she has to turn down the hall to her bedroom for the night.

Spencer answers by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest once more, he wasn’t sure how his heart could hold so much love for these girls, and still have room left to make more one day. It was a dream come true to have a family this big, no one was going to believe that he gained 3 kids and a wife in under a month.

He kissed her on the forehead gently, seeing her smile at the contact let him know it was fine. “Goodnight dad,” she whispers, pressing her lips together awkwardly the same way he did before turning down the hall and disappearing into her room.

She had only a backpack of things currently, not expecting everything to go as smoothly as it did. She had enough clothes to sleep in, and Taylor happily provided some old tour perch to her just in case she needed something new to wear. Something to help her ease to sleep that didn’t feel like she was going back to her old life in the morning.

Amoreena was going to have a field day tomorrow when she met her big sister, the beautiful girl who was busy covering her scars with bandaids provided by Spencer, but it would take a lot of time, effort and care to make her feel truly healed again. It was going to be interesting seeing Amoreena adjust to sharing him so early, especially since he knew Jo would need so much more attention to ease her anxiety moving forward.

Spencer sat on the guest bed beside Y/N, noticing all the rose petals and candles on the dresser and night tables, “oh she really had a lot planned for us.”

“She’s the fairy godmother of our dreams,” Y/N agreed with a laugh. “I don’t mind staying up late tonight if you don’t mind leaving on Monday instead?”

“I was going on suggest the same thing,” he smiled at her, leaning in to press their lips together gently for the first time since the wedding that afternoon.

“let's get into our comfy’s and go for a walk on the beach, Taylor left me the keys to lock up when we come back,” she whispered the words against his lips before smiling.

“Can I call Derek before we go? I really need to talk to him,” he’s honest with her as he pulls away, feeling really anxious and shook up at the events of the day. He needed his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ll go check out the rest of the guest house, come find me when you’re done?” She says softly, getting off the bed with a smile and stepping out of the room with a small wave.

He takes his phone out and dials the number, waiting with the phone pressed against his ear as it rings. Again and again, every new hum in his ear making his heart beat faster, “hello?” He’s finally rescued.

“Have you talked to anyone on the team lately?”

“Who died?” It was everyone’s go-to question when they got a phone call like this one.

“No one, quite the opposite actually—“

“She’s pregnant!” Derek shouts, cutting him off and Spencer can hear Savannah asking who from the background.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I'm calling,” Spencer replies only to be met with Derek's laughter.

“Penny and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“She cheated because she knew we were trying,” Spencer takes the fun from him, Penelope always won. “I have another kid.”

“I know man, birth is so cool— well I’m telling him anyway,” Derek is clearly talking to Savannah and him at the same time, “we’re pregnant again too.”

“No, Derek, I’m pregnant and sick as hell while you’re perfectly fine,” she snaps back at him as she takes the phone. “You better be so kind to her Doctor Spencer Reid; rub her feet, make her breakfast, thank every god on earth and the ground she walks on for being willing to make another version of you, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Spencer hold back a laugh, wondering when Y/N would have a hormonal switch like that, “but I didn’t mean the one in her stomach, another fully formed human of my creation walked into the BAU looking for me today.”

There’s a rustling through the phone as Derek takes it back from her, “what the fuck did you just say?”

“Her name is Jo, she’s exactly a month younger than Henry and her parents died 7 months ago,” he continues without even repeating the last part, “Derek I have 3 kids now and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In Taylor Swift's guest house.”

“Spencer, be serious with me, are you doing drugs again?"

“Ask Penelope, she contacted Portia, Rossi’s stepdaughter, who contacted Taylor so I could help Y/N and Amoreena meet her, then JJ called and made us fly all the way to Quantico and now I have 2 children living with me and one on the way. Not to mention, child 1 is extremely jealous about sharing me with people and hasn’t even gotten accustomed to being a big sister, and child 2 is so traumatized she hacked the fucking sperm bank and explained it to me like it was as easy as making a sandwich. I am in over my head here, Derek.”

“Okay, that sounded more like Spencer Reid,” Derek’s calm and happy voice calms him slightly and prompts him to take a deep breath. “If she’s able to hack she’s most likely like Penelope, we can introduce them. She’ll need someone who understands the loss of a parent. Amoreena, on the other hand, you need to spend a day with just her. Take her to the movies, or to see a play or something. Let her know she’s always going to be your little girl no matter how many siblings she gets.”

“Thank you, I needed someone who wasn’t my overly optimistic wife to tell me if I could do it,” he’s overly honest, Derek is his person and will always be his person.

“I get it, thanks for calling me, I’m really glad you’re okay,” he can hear Derek's smile and all he wants is a hug from him. “How was the wedding?”

“Good, we all cried a lot,” he laughs then, “we were supposed to have a big dinner on the beach before we got called into Quantico, so I’m going to go spend time with her now, I love you, Derek,” he rushes the words out so he doesn’t get overly emotional.

“I love you too, Spencer, have a good night,” Derek hands up before they both get too emotional. They always had a knack for making the other cry in times like this.

He lets out a deep sigh before tossing his phone on the bedside table. 3 of his 5 kids were here with him and Y/N now, safe and sound. If anyone else needed him, they could wait.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

Text

Pt.24 "Hunting for Bunnies"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, stalking, discussion of homicide/suicide (explicit), injury mention/description, blood (explicit), strangulation mention, gun/gunshot mention, character death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, prison mention, tics/tourrettes (descriptive), ptsd/nightmares, panic attack, chloroform use, self injury, x-acto knife (brief), gag/restraints, discussion of past whump, vomit mention (brief), conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome-type language (let me know if I missed anything!)

Healing was a good look on Elias. As weeks went on, his smile returned to his face, his bruises slowly melted away, the numerous scars scattering his body faded into small pinkish lines. He cut his hair a little shorter, dyed a streak of blue through it. He and Tyson got matching tattoos, little rain clouds and with lightning bolts on their forearms. They were happy, very obviously so.

August wanted to kill both of them for it.

He wasn’t entirely jealous (he was, so jealous he was blood thirsty every second of the day), he was more so just frustrated that Elias thought he was able to be happy without August. He was stupid. Adorable, but stupid. He didn’t know that he needed August to survive. He didn’t know that being away from each other was killing them both. Rather, he didn’t know how much the distance was making August want to kill them both. It would have to be a grand gesture, a murder suicide so beautiful there’ll be copycats. He had to talk himself out of those violent fantasies several times a day, hold himself back from getting out of his car while he followed Elias and just grabbing him. Maybe he’d strangle him again, watch the life drain out of his face, watch him slip into the dark abyss of death. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he’d take him home and torture him until he was broken beyond broken and then put him out of his misery. Single shot to the face, like he’d made Elias do to Sawyer so long ago. And then...August guessed he would do himself in after that. He was tired of being in and out of prison, and if Elias didn’t exist anymore, then what would be the point in living? Maybe that was the thought that made him change his mind, when his hand was on the door handle and he was getting ready to make a huge, violent, romantic scene. Maybe the idea of a world without Elias was just too sad, and he knew he didn’t really want Elias dead. He just wanted him away from Tyson.

They were both entirely oblivious that August was even close by, let alone watching them all the time. He was renting a room at a motel a couple streets away from Tyson’s apartment, but he was hardly ever there. He spent most of his time parked near their apartment, which was conveniently on the first floor and had a large window in the living room that was facing the street. There was also a porch in front, where Elias would occasionally sit outside late at night and smoke cigarettes or blunts. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes Allen was there with him. August often thought about how hilarious it would be to walk up to both of them at times like that, just to see them both unravel with fear at the same time. A few nights, when Tyson is working and Elias is all alone, August sits out front in the grass next to a tree and just watches Elias inside. He can see him smoking in the living room, he watches him pass out on the couch, sometimes he goes into the kitchen, comes back with nothing. When he goes to bed, August watches him lock the door, and it pisses him off so badly he wants to throw a rock through the window. He doesn’t want to go inside, he’s letting Elias heal again, he’s respecting his space, for the moment. Still, knowing that Elias actively wants to keep him out stings. So, he holds off breaking in for as long as he can.

It’s just a shame his resolve isn’t so strong, not when it comes to Elias. He can’t stay away from him anymore, he knew it the second he bought a plane ticket back here to find him, despite the very real possibility of being arrested any second. On the plane, he came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no control when it came to Elias. He couldn’t stay away from him, he couldn’t restrain himself when he was hurting him. He loved Elias, loved him so much it was driving him insane. Things just didn’t make sense when they were apart, August could hardly form a coherent thought that wasn’t about Elias, or how much it hurt to only be able to look but not touch. Though, when he broke in he wasn't able to touch Elias still, but it was at least closer than being separated by a window.

Tyson and Elias left the house, August wasn't sure where or when, but when August finally left his motel and pulled up to their place, the car was gone. It would be easy enough to find them, August had Tyson's number still and could get his location in minutes, if he wanted. Instead, he tested the door handle. It was unlocked. He guessed if they weren't there it didn't matter to them whether someone broke in or not.

August didn't make it obvious he was there, not the first time. He went through some of their things, put everything back in its place. He took one of Elias's shirts, a pair of his boxers. He didn't think either of them would notice, which bummed him out because he wanted Elias to know he was close by.

The next time he snuck in, it was when Elias was there. August had held himself off for as long as he could, he'd been in LA for 28 days already and he hadn't been closer than six feet from him the entire time. So when Elias smoked a huge bowl and went to bed without locking the door, it was like he was practically inviting him in, and August just couldn't help himself. He let himself in, he smoked what was left in Elias's bong, and he walked around the house for a little bit, waiting to make sure Elias was actually asleep before he went to see him.

Something about watching Elias sleep had always made August go disgustingly mushy for him. He looked so small, so vulnerable and unaware. This time was even better, because this time Elias thought he was free, thought that life was moving on without August, and yet here he was, kneeling next to the bed and watching Elias's chest rise and fall with each deep breath. He was beautiful, August was jealous of the moonlight kissing his face and making his face glow pale blue, he was jealous of the blankets wrapped snugly around his waist, he was jealous that Tyson got the privilege of sleeping next to this - his - angel almost every night.

August didn't have the courage to touch Elias, he was afraid that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, he didn't want to get carried away. It might start with trailing his fingertips over his face to see if he'd wake up, then if he didn't he might kiss all over his body until he opened his eyes, then he'd probably smother him with a pillow.

That time when he left, he took the blanket that Elias had been using in the living room earlier. It smelled like him. That night he slept in his car right out front, wrapped up in the same blanket that had touched Elias's skin, his clothes, his face. It was the closest he'd felt to him in months.

After that he was cocky. He found their spare key poorly hidden under a potted plant on the front porch, and he completely took advantage of it. He went in all the time when neither of them were home, cleaning up after them in small, nearly unnoticeable ways, or looking through their things, or just sitting on the bed where Elias often slept, wishing he was there at the moment. He also used it on nights when he couldn’t stand being away from Elias for a second longer, waiting until late in the night to sneak in and sit on the floor for hours to watch him sleep. Once, and he never did it again because Elias almost woke up, August reached out and gently pushed his hair away from his face, where it was tickling the tip of his nose and making his face twitch. It was a reflexive touch, August had only realized he’d done it as an afterthought, when Elias huffed softly and started to move under the blankets. August stared at his hand in disbelief, oh shit I just touched him. And then he left. But Elias still didn’t know he was there, and truthfully, August was getting bored. Bored? Try going insane. He wanted them to notice that something was off, that maybe they weren't as safe as they thought. But they just continued on with their stupid, repulsively happy lives. It was maddening, and at some point August couldn't take it anymore.

The first deliberate mistake he made to blow his cover was running into Allen at a grocery store. He wore a hat and a hoodie, and he carefully avoided him until he was near the front, in a crowd of people. August walked right into him, caught one of the many snack foods that he knocked out of Allen’s overflowing arms, and handed it back to him with a smile.

“Sorry, my bad,” he said smugly, watching Allen’s face fall from his tight frown to a blank, horrified stare. And then he just walked away.

Allen surprisingly didn’t go and tell Tyson and Elias that he saw him, at least if he did, neither of them seemed bothered in the slightest. That irritated August further. He’d been counting on Allen to run and tattle on him, rattle them up so that August could dive headfirst into chaos and whisk Elias away. Incompetent. Unreliable.

So August wrote love notes. He taped them to trees in the yard, tucked them under Tyson’s windshield wipers. They said stupid things like “you’re my favorite brand of heroin, I want to overdose on you” and “I can’t stop thinking about the heavenly way you scream my name today, you look nice by the way”. (His sister had taken a poetry class while they were in high school, he would like to think she would find this humorous. He’d tell her, if she would ever talk to him.) That shook them up a little bit. Really, he believed that Tyson was the only one finding and reading them, and he didn’t think he ever told Elias. Probably didn’t want to scare him. But he started really keeping an eye on the locked doors, as if August hadn’t already made himself at home there multiple times. Elias could sense his tension, it seemed, because he started passing out on the couch and staying there more often, waking up multiple times from nightmares. They were anxious. It wasn’t enough to have them anxious.

Again, August just couldn’t control himself.

So he paid Tyson a visit. He knew his work schedule, knew that he left a little after five in the morning, knew that on normal days he would be home and in bed with Elias by six, they would sleep until around nine. But that day, August was waiting for him, along with chloroform and some duct tape. He followed him to his car, he came up behind him and slowly lowered him to the ground as he knocked him out with the dowsed rag he was holding. He was hardly able to put up a fight. Then he dragged him to his car, and drove him to his motel room. It was easy enough to get inside unnoticed, and also easy enough to tie Tyson up in a chair and gag him before he woke up. He made sure it was all secure before he went back to their apartment.

Elias hadn’t woken up yet, so he had some time to smoke some of his weed and pour himself a glass of wine before he got started. He brought an x-acto knife from his motel, and he wandered around the apartment, slicing into his forearm and using his finger to smear his own blood into declarations of love on their perfect, off-white walls. He wished he could be there when Elias woke up. He could only imagine how his face would look as he walked around reading “I love you so much it hurts”, “you’re mine Bunny”, “we’ll be together forever”, things of that nature. He’d be mortified. Before he left, he slipped into the bedroom and left the nearly empty glass of wine, messy with his bloody handprint, on the bedside dresser so Elias would also see that upon waking up. Then, completely on impulse, he reached out and traced his fingertip over Elias’s cheek in the shape of a heart. The blood on his finger stayed behind on Elias’s pale skin, and August smiled brightly. Elias would be so scared when he got up and was all alone, he’d surely call Tyson first thing. Too bad he wouldn’t have his phone.

August left his car there, took the bus home with his hood pulled low over his face, folding his arms so no one could see the blood seeping through. His hands were buzzing with excitement, high off of the idea of being able to get Elias back.

---------------------------------------------------

Elias almost slept late into the morning, that was the first sign that something might be wrong. Tyson would usually be home when the sky outside was the washed-out blue it got before sunrise, would crawl into bed with Elias and pull him close. Then he would apologize to Elias for waking him up, and Elias would ignore his apology and ask him about his night, and then they would fall back asleep for a while. That morning, hours and hours after Tyson would usually be home, the sun was floating in through the partially opened curtains and turning the insides of Elias’s eyelids a bright red in it’s warm light. He woke up, stretched against the soft mattress, and then slid his hand over the sheets until he found Tyson, who would be in bed with him by now. Only, he was met with more blankets and an empty bed. Elias could feel the tired, confused scowl spread across his face upon realizing Tyson wasn’t right next to him, but he pushed the bitter anxiety that came with it away. Maybe he was making breakfast, maybe he was in the shower. It was just like Tyson to not wake him up when he decided to start his day, to try and let Elias sleep for as long as he could. He was sweet like that, always had been.

With a yawn, Elias tossed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his tired muscles out. It was still relatively new, and a little weird, for Elias to be able to stretch and move and even breathe without the addition of earth shattering amounts of pain, but he was getting used to it slowly. It didn’t come with nearly as much strange guilt anymore, he could hardly hear that little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he wasn’t deserving of a painless life, a life of ease. Even some days, when that little cruel voice was more of a brutal yell in his ear, telling him that he wasn’t worth any part of this simple, enjoyable life, he was able to get past it now. The voice would say “this is way too nice for you, you don’t deserve any of this”, he was able to, for the most part, smile and think back, “yeah, and aren’t I lucky I get it anyway?” and most of the time, it helped. On days that it didn’t, Tyson stepped in instead, told him anything he needed to hear: “you deserve everything to be nice, you’re an angel” or “it’s a shitty apartment, not a castle, it isn’t ‘too nice’ for anyone,” or sometimes, when Elias couldn’t be convinced, “even if you don’t deserve it, I want you here with me”. It was starting to feel like today was going to be one of the days that Elias needed Tyson to be louder than that voice in his head, as he pushed himself to his feet with ease and felt bad about it. He tried to reassure himself, he told himself that Tyson was right in another room and all Elias had to do to feel better was go see him. That was easy, he could do that.

He would have done that, if right before he stepped toward the door he hadn't caught sight of a wine glass sitting on the dresser next to the bed. The glass was dirty with a rusty brown color, and Elias frowned and looked around the room before stepping closer to it. He was too afraid to pick it up (it still had some deep red wine at the bottom and Elias knew there was a chance that once it was in his hands it would end up as a stain on the floor) so instead he crouched down in front of it, inspecting the grime closely. It was hand shaped, surrounded by a couple of smudges and fingerprints here and there. It looked like blood.

“What the fuck!” Elias ticced, then, much quieter: “Ty?” As he stood straight, his stomach dropped and his head felt light and airy.

No more blood. No more blood. No more please, god, no more.

“Tyson!” He called louder this time, already feeling the familiar burning of panic clawing restlessly in his chest. There was no answer. His mouth and throat were a desert. His knees were shaking. There was blood in his room. Was he bleeding? He tried his best to keep his arms still enough for a moment to run them over his torso to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t even fucking hurt. “Pathetic,” he heard himself whimper, “pathetic, pathetic, pathetic! Ty-fucking pathetic- Tyson!” He stumbled back, away from the blood covered glass. Where was Tyson? Surely, Elias was being loud enough with his irritating shouting to get his attention, he would’ve come running, by now, with a comforting hug and reassurance and promises that Elias is safe and good and not dying.

The apartment was a crime scene straight out of a psychological thriller. Every few feet there were drops of blood on the hardwood, and then when he got the courage to look, he also saw that there was more smeared across the walls. As soon as he recognized it as more drying blood, he closed his eyes tightly, breathing picking up the longer he stood there. He tried to imagine Tyson’s voice teaching him how to calm his breathing: “Inhale, Eli. Deep, deep, all the way into the bottom of your lungs. Good.”

“Good boy, letting me cut you open like this. So pretty for me, all covered in blood.”

No more blood! No more fucking blood no more no more-

“Exhale now, baby.”

No more no more no more no more-

“Elias, breathe out. Stop holding your breath now.”

“You breathe when I allow you to breathe. I don’t think you’ve been behaving well enough for air.”

Don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me!

With his shoulders held high and his head dropped toward the ground so that he could open his eyes without seeing the blood, he turned on his heel and threw himself back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him, letting all the air out of his lungs in ragged sobs. Even then, it was hard to catch his breath in between his unintentional cries of “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

Something deep in his gut made him swivel around and lock the door, and then he slid down it until he was on the floor. He covered his face with his hands, knees up to his chest to protect himself as much as he could. It felt like a nightmare, waking up alone in the middle of the day to find his walls covered in blood, only he just couldn't wake up. “Tyson...Ty...fuck...Tyson…” he crawled across the room, toward his phone, left on the charger next to the bed all night. His fingers were trembling as he tapped in his password, then still as he found Tyson’s contact to call him. As he waited what felt like an agonizingly long time for the ringing to stop, he tucked himself in the corner of the room behind the bed. He made himself small, “pathetic,” so that any pain would be limited to his arms and his legs, and he wouldn’t be hurt so badly, at least.

He couldn’t wait for Tyson to start speaking once he answered the phone, only able to wait with bated breath until the long pause after the last ring.

Click.

“Tyson!” He sobbed, clutching the phone tighter to him like a lifeline. He felt like throwing up. “Ty-Tyson I need you to come ho-fuck-home, I need you to come home right fucking now! P-please-fucking shit- come home.” There was a soft, muffled, sigh on the other line, Elias let out another hoarse sob. “Where the fu-fuck are you?! I...I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry. Tyson please, please co-come home, something’s wrong-”

“Calm down, Bunny.”

No.

No no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO!

“You’re freaking yourself out way too much. You have a tendency to do that. It’s adorable, really.” August laughed, Elias almost threw his phone, barely stopping himself. “But not very helpful.”

“No…” Elias squeaked out. He craned his neck to look over the bed at the wine glass. August was here. Is he still here? Elias folded in on himself smaller, safer, more pathetic, “fucking pathetic!” He ticced. August laughed again. “N-no, please, August. Please don’t...don’t…”

August made a soft shushing sound, slightly softened by the static of the phone. Elias’s head always gets messed up when August acts like that, makes it feel like cotton candy and causes his chest to flutter in an agonizingly confusing way.

Sometimes he’s so nice to me I think, since I have no other choice, I’ll force myself to love him. Just so that my love doesn’t go unused. That way I’m not a waste of life completely.

“Stop working yourself up, sweetheart. Seriously, I want to have a conversation with you, you always do this.” He sighed, gruffly, with an air of boredom. “Pretty fucking annoying honestly.”

Sometimes I want to give him a bunch of his own stupid drugs and drag his ass down the stairs and chain him up and bleed him dry-

No more blood! No more blood!

Elias gritted his teeth, he tried to feel the scar on the back of his tongue, he tried to keep his mouth shut. “Where’s...Tyson?” He grumbled.

“Ugh, shut the fuck up!” August shouted.

Elias flinched, pulling the phone away from his face. He didn’t think he heard an echo of his yell in the house. He listened, close, and could hear August’s voice distantly on the phone, but not out in the hall. Not distantly, in the living room or kitchen. He relaxed a little, straightened out his spine as he pulled his phone back to his ear.

“I was about to tell you all of that. I had a whole speech...Impatient little thing.”

Elias forced himself to his feet, took a few shaking steps for the door. He didn’t turn the lock, not right away, shaking hand hesitating over the brass knob. “If y-you hurt him I’ll-”

Again, August chuckled cynically at Elias’s stammering, his false braveness, his beginning to an empty threat. Elias cringed hard. He wanted to hang up the phone and crawl back into bed, fall asleep, and then wake up from this nightmare to find Tyson next to him. But he wasn’t in a nightmare, and his apartment was covered in blood, and Tyson was gone.

“This would be so much easier for all three of us if you just listened, Bunny. Can you be a good boy and listen closely for a second?”

Embarrassingly, Elias felt his knees buckle at the words, and he reflexively nodded at August’s voice.

I’ll do anything you ask, just call me good, just stop hurting me, I’ll do whatever you want.

When August spoke again, Elias could hear the smile to his voice without even seeing him. “Perfect, sweetheart. Now, I need you to do everything I say, ok? Tyson will be just fine if you just do exactly what I tell you.”

“Oh, f-fuck,” Elias whimpered, pressing his forehead against the door to try and steady himself, “God fucking d-dammit-”

“Shh, Bunny. Take a deep breath.” Somehow, August had added some sort of softness to his words, making himself sound caring and gentle and human, and it made Elias even angrier.

Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar!

He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, just because he was told to, just because it was August’s voice telling him what to do, and it was easier to just listen to whatever he was told the first time rather than face the ugly alternative.

“I left my car keys on your kitchen counter, my car is right out front. Full tank of gas, it drives beautifully, by the way. Can I trust you to take care of it when you drive it over here?”

Elias unlocked the door with his breath still held, shuffling out into the hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at the blood on the wall, and his stomach churns terribly. Before he could even process it, his shoulder hit the wall as he stumbled to the side.

I love you so much it hurts.

Elias would prefer the freezing blanket of death over the paralyzing fear he felt reading that.

We’ll be together forever.

He could never get away. No matter where he went or what he did, August would find him, August would destroy him. Maybe it would be easier to just hand himself over to the wolves instead of trying to outrun them.

You’re mine, Bunny.

There were scars everywhere on Elias’s body that validated that, there was a switch in his brain that flipped every time someone sounded too much like August that also proved it, Elias belonged to him now, even when he was far away from him.

“I asked you a question, baby. Will you take care of my car?”

“You’re fucking c...crazy.” Elias cast his eyes back to the ground, pushing himself off of the wall and stumbling out to the kitchen. He found the keys August was talking about. Thinking about August in the apartment, helping himself to a glass of wine, tossing his keys onto the counter, made Elias sway where he stood.

There was a groan on the other line. August was annoyed, Elias would have to pay for that. “I know that, idiot. You don’t think I fucking know that?” A sigh, a soft thud in the back, a small laugh. “Just get here, ok? The address is written on a paper in my car. You might want to hurry, Tyson’s waking up and he’ll be wondering where you are. And if you take too long...he’ll be wondering why you didn’t come rescue him.”

He laughs.

Elias wants to kill him.

Click.

18 notes · View notes

harrygroves · 3 years

Text

a simple favor -- chapter three

to chapter two

Billy taps the back of his knuckles against Steve’s door, snapping bubblegum and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He’s got three shirts on hangers swung over his shoulder and it had better be enough for this “shoot”.

Steve answers the door, face scowling. The bags under his eyes are prominent, like he hasn’t been sleeping. Billy doesn’t blame him.

“Hi.” Billy says awkwardly, suddenly very aware of why he’s in front of Steve Harrington. The other day wasn’t as weird. They just talked. There was going to be a little more...involvement today.

“Come in.” Steve says, a little robotic. Maybe he was nervous too.

Billy follows Steve inside and shuts the door, clearing his throat. “So, how are we doing this?”

Steve’s fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt. So he is nervous. “I figure we just get a few casual shots. Call it a day.”

Billy nods. “Alright, well, I’ll wait for you to change.”

Steve bristles, standing a little straighter. “This is what I’m wearing, asshole.”

Billy can’t help the nervous bark of a laugh that punches out of him. “Oh, shit. Well. Do you have an iron?”

Steve sputters at him, offended.

They can’t agree on anything.

“Look, dude -- just -- here, angle it --”

“I know what I’m doing.” Steve snapped, pushing Billy’s hand away from his phone.

“You keep cutting out, like, half my face!”

It’s not going well. They’re sitting on the couch, Billy’s leaning back against the arm with one leg planted on the ground. Steve’s leaning back against his chest. They look uncomfortable and posed in every shot, Steve keeps leaning too far to the right and getting his hair in Billy’s face. Billy on the other hand can’t stop shifting around cause it’s hot in Steve’s apartment and their combined body heat is not helping.

“Please, just get one decent shot. I beg you.” Billy groans, moving again.

“Sit still, they keep coming out blurry!” Steve pushes back into him hard and holds his phone out, pouting.

They both smile wide. Steve hits the button.

Their smiles drop immediately but Steve doesn’t pull away. He opens his photo gallery and swipes through them. Billy watches him delete a few, then scroll back and forth between a handful. Steve smells like cinnamon. That’s not an important fact. Billy doesn’t care. Nope.

“That one’s not bad.” Billy mumbles.

Steve’s finger wavers over the delete button but he just swipes to the next one.

“Okay.” Steve says. “Just a couple more.” He pulls away from Billy, getting to his feet.

Billy, being who he was -- having absolutely no apprehension -- casually stands and pulls his shirt off. Steve’s eyes track down his chest and he moves back like Billy’s presence is a force blowing him over. Steve opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but he doesn’t, just scurries away to his room. Billy smirks.

They sit out on the patio in different clothes, trying to get some more candid shots. Billy smokes, flicking off the camera, tries to give a genuine smile instead of an evil one. Billy takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures of Steve looking at the scenery.

“Don't be so tense, dude.” Billy reprimands. Steve frowns but takes a deep breath, sinking more into his chair. A lazy smile pulls at his lip. “Better.” Billy says and takes a few photos.

He keeps the photos, they’re all good. “You realize we’re not going to have any photos in the snow?”

Steve shrugs. “I’m hoping they’re not going to pay that much attention. You in the flesh is better than a photo.”

“I hope you’re right.” Billy replies.

It’s Billy’s idea to go into the bedroom. Steve’s transparently uncomfortable. Billy launches himself onto the bed and pats the spot next to him. “C’mere. Let’s get some cuddle shots.” Steve over-exaggerates a shiver. Billy laughs. “You better get used to it, man. We’re gonna have to be all over each other next week.” He doesn’t care, but like, Steve is the one that asked him to do this. The least he could do is not make Billy feel gross.

“Don't remind me.” Steve says icily.

“Get over here, sweetie.” Billy says, all smooth and smiling. He’s not going to tell Steve how he’s feeling. They’re not even friends. This is a transaction.

Steve gingerly takes a seat. Billy waits, lets Steve take his time laying down. Billy wraps an arm around him, pulling him close and they snap some photos.

“You’re so fucking stiff, dude. You need to chill out.” Billy mumbles.

He turns his face and presses a kiss to Steve’s face while taking a shot. Steve jerks his head back, shocked. “Shit, sorry -- uh, try again. I just wasn’t expecting…”

Billy does it again, finger hovering over the photo button, pressing in rapid succession in hopes that one comes out good, lips pressed to Steve’s warm cheek.

Steve pulls his face away, doesn’t look at Billy. “We should have something a little raunchy.” Billy says after a few seconds.

Steve snorts. “Are you insane?”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be, like, a nude, but something. You really think your family is going to believe two healthy, young, red-blooded guys aren’t going to have some dirty pictures on their phones?”

Steve rubs at his temple. “What do you have in mind?” He says defeatedly.

Billy tosses his phone on the bed and gets up, undoing his jeans. Steve becomes very still.

He strips down to just his underwear. Steve’s looking very pointedly away from him.

“Well?” Billy says, tone prompting.

“I. I don't want to.” Steve says apprehensively.

“Just your shirt then, dude, god -- don't be such a prude.” Billy says while climbing on the bed and reaching for Steve.

Steve smacks his hand away and sits up.

“Fine!” He snaps.

Steve gingerly removes his shirt, cheeks red. Billy looks right at his nipples then looks away.

“Now what?”

“Okay, so, lay down, I’ll lay on you, it’ll look like you’re naked, and we can get a shot -- ”

“Nope. No way.” Steve says, getting to his feet and reaching down for his shirt.

Billy huffs. “Are you sure? I’m not missing out on this money cause you’ve got some weird touch-starved thing going on.”

“Fuck you, I don't...have that.” Steve says, clutching his shirt to his chest.

“Okay, dude.” Billy says, disbelief in his voice, clearly becoming more and more annoyed.

“Is that the only word in your vocabulary? Stop calling me dude.” Steve pulls his shirt back on, fast and sloppy, it’s inside out. Billy bites his tongue.

He goes to grab for his own clothes. “You’re a fucking mess, Harrington. Fuck you, fuck your trust fund money.” He pulls his jeans up and goes to grab his shirt when Steve stops him.

“Hey, hey, okay, wait.” He says hurriedly. Billy pauses, waits. Steve’s eyes flick back and forth, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “Look, I need this money. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to...shut you down. It’s just...uncomfortable.”

Billy sighs and sits down on the bed. “I get that. But. I kinda need you to make the mental hurdles in order to get in this. If you want this money from your dad, and if this is really the only way to get it. I don't think you have another choice.”

Steve is quiet for a moment before letting out a huff of defeat. “Fine.”

Pouting, he takes his shirt off, leaves his jeans on but unbuttons them and lies down on the bed.

Billy gets down to underwear again and kneels on the bed, moving over Steve and sitting on him.

“Want me to give you a few hickeys?” Billy suggests.

“Don't you dare.” Steve says severely.

Billy smiles and takes his phone, getting some shots of Steve below him.

“C’mon, Harrington. Have fun with it.”

Steve manages, somehow, to pull this tired half-smile out of nowhere and lifts his arms up like he’s trying to swipe Billy’s phone. They’re cute shots of Billy pushing Steve’s hand away, the smile Steve has widening as they play.

It almost feels real, especially when Steve starts going, “Alright, okay, you got enough.”

Billy leans down fast and doesn’t miss the way Steve gasps. Billy holds the phone up and buries his face in Steve’s neck.

“Look up.” Billy tells him.

Steve does what he’s told without bitching and Billy blindly taps at his phone, hoping he gets a shot of Steve looking somewhat happy while Billy rests on his chest.

Once they’re clothed in different shirts and back in the living room, Steve makes mac and cheese with hot dogs and pulls out cold cans of beer.

They eat and watch television, some sitcom neither are very interested in.

“So is there anything else we need to do before next week?” Billy asks once their food is gone.

Steve’s at this kitchen sink, rinsing out bowls, Billy’s leaning against the counter behind him.

“I don't think so. We’ve got background information, photos. Now we just need to survive my family.”

“Well, after dealing with my family I don't think there’s anything yours could do to scare me.”

Steve faces Billy, drying his hands with a towel. “Don't be so sure about that, Hargrove.”

Billy pushes away from the counter and reaches out to Steve, planting his hands on Steve’s hip. Steve flushes, tosses the towel on the counter and hesitates, like he’s unsure of what to do with his own limbs. He gingerly places his hands on Billy’s shoulders.

“C’mon, Steve. You’re going to have to start calling me Billy.”

“Okay. Billy.” Steve replies quietly.

“Good.” Billy mumbles. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Yeah.” Steve replies before Billy leans in and does just that.

It’s soft and sweet but also intense. Steve kisses him back and Billy pushes him against the sink, making Steve let out a gasp of surprise against his mouth.

Billy...he doesn’t want to stop. Fuck, if he’d known how Steve felt, how soft and good, how he tasted. Billy would’ve been after him years ago.

Maybe he had been. Maybe this is where they were always heading. Billy didn’t know that, wonders if Steve did.

He’s dying to lift Steve up, get his hands on different parts of him, but Steve pushes him back, breaking the kiss and Billy has to let him.

“Well…” Steve says, a little breathless, eyes low and hazy. “That part works.”

“Uh-huh.” Billy breathes out, and they’re still exchanging air, still so close. Billy feels buzzed.

“I, uh... I got shit to do, so.” Steve’s eyes dart away and that icy demeanor is back.

The spell breaks and Billy lets Steve go, stepping back.

Holy shit.

to chapter four

#harringrove #my fic #fake dating

28 notes · View notes

imagine-that · 4 years

Text

Target

Warnings: none

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Gryffindor!reader

AN: I love the twins with all my heart but I have a very special place for Fred, he’s my bby and I’m still in denial of his death 🙂. Also figured I would post a fluffy imagine as opposed to the HEARTBREAK I posted last night for the Marauders.

“Fred! George!” You cried out, storming down the halls, a trail of Gryffindor red dust flying off of you at every turn.

Though you were often fine with their pranks and usually let them slide, this one was too much. Your hair was turning a fiery red, your skin was tinged and every inch of your uniform was dusted in red.

“Well hello y/n, what might we do for you?” One of the twins asks as he appears by your side out of nowhere. You screech in fear, a hand flying to your chest instinctively to calm your racing heart. Soon enough, the other appears, making you scream yet again.

“Care to explain?” You ask, gesturing up and down at your figure.

“Well it would appear that you’re covered in some sort of red dust. Might want to get that cleaned up. You are the Prefect after all.” The other sing songs, and in that quick second of him talking, you know it’s Fred.

“You two are both dead, especially you Fred!” You growl, pointing an accusatory finger his way.

He puts a hand over his chest with a dramatic gasp, making you roll your eyes.

“So many years together and you still can’t tell us apart y/l/n?” He asks, feigning hurt.

“Don’t even try it Fred.” You breath a laugh of disbelief, narrowing your eyes at him.

The two look at you in shock, having never had anyone so surely differentiate them from each other.

“Detention again I take it?” They ask in sync, a smile on both their lips.

“Just- stop prank bombing me and I’ll forget about it.” You sigh. They nod quickly, but you know this won’t be the last prank they pull on you.

———————————————————

A little over a week later, you’re proven correct.

You trudge out into the common room, your face burning with fury.

“Weasleys!” You shriek. All of the red headed family looks up in surprise, looking at you in even more shock when they see your hair, now a very vibrant shade of y/f/c.

“Not all of you. Those two.” You breath, pointing a shaking finger at the twins. Once again, they act completely shocked.

“Corridor. Now.” You say as calmly as you can muster, walking outside the room and trying to regain your normal composure. They slowly follow behind, both looking a mix of scared and amused.

You cross your arms over your chest impatiently.

“The both of you are the worst.” You groan, tugging at strands of your hair as they step through the painting frame.

“I must say, I think it looks bloody brilliant.” Fred says proudly but you’re too busy fuming to notice the fond expression on his features.

“How am I supposed to go to class like this?” You moan.

“Well, it’s not as if it’s against dress code.” George shrugs with a grin.

You raise an eyebrow at the both of them. “You mean go to class like this? Isn’t that a bit mental?” You ask, biting your lip, your anger slowly dissolved.

“Not at all. In fact, it’ll turn heads.” George says with a smirk.

Fred nods in agreement. “Some might even say it’s breathtaking.” He says with a smile.

“And I wasn’t breathtaking before?” You ask teasingly, your spirits slightly lifted.

“Oh no. You were actually quite ghastly looking before really.” He says sarcastically, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

“How have you two gits not yet been expelled exactly?” You quip back.

Again in sync, they shrug. “Beats us.” They reply together.

“With much discretion?” George offers.

“And much secrecy?” Fred adds.

You laugh, almost snorting at the response. “The two of you? Discreet? As if.” You say, still giggling.

They take one look at each other and shrug, obviously knowing that you are indeed correct.

“You see?” You ask with a smile.

“Think you know us better than we know ourselves there y/l/n?” Fred asks with another grin.

You roll your eyes. “I probably do but whatever. Just stop with the pranks. Let me at least have the chance to pretend I have no clue what the two of you do around the school.” You say sternly, walking away before either can say another thing to you.

“Breathtaking eh Fred?” George teases with a smirk once he knows you’re all the way down the hall.

Fred gently shoves him, sighing to himself. “Shut up George.” He laughs.

The two bicker back and forth jokingly, walking back into the Gryffindor common room together.

————————————————

You had decided to leave your hair the colour the boys had dyed it, getting plenty of stares from your fellow students and prefects but choosing to ignore them.

Within the month, people finally stopped asking about it, actually growing used to the colour change.

“Hello there y/n.” Fred says with his usual smirk as he sits down next to you in the library, surprisingly with an actual book in hand.

“Afternoon Fred. Where’s your other half? Surely you didn’t lose him?” You tease, looking up from your own book.

“No not at all. He has some studying of his own to do I’m afraid.” He responds, flitting through the pages out of boredom.

You eye him out of suspicion, unsure of what to do. Lately the only time he talked to you was to prank you. It made you a tiny bit paranoid.

“Relax y/n, we know when to take breaks from our tricks.” He assures you without looking up.

“Of course.” You mutter sarcastically.

“We are! That one was enough to last a while. With you at least.” He says, gently touching your hair and sending a shiver down your spine.

“Ah yes, it was a good one I suppose.” You admit with a small smile escaping your lips.

“I trust I got your favourite colour right?” He asks with a toothy grin.

You eye him, pleasantly surprised that he knows anything about you at all. Slowly you nod, your mouth still open in shock.

“Why so surprised? I do try to know at least something about my fellow Gryffindors. Especially the best prefect we could have.” He says, his smile widening and his eyes sparkling happily.

The two of you sit in silence, looking down at your own books until finally he breaks the silence.

“So, how goes the love life? Got anyone special around here?” He asks playfully.

You guffaw, a grin on your face.

“No, not at all.” You reply honestly.

“That’s a pity. People don’t know what they’re missing.” He comments, to your relief not noticing your surprised gaze on him.

“Yes well... I suppose maybe one day in my dreams I’ll meet the perfect person.” You sigh, smiling softly to yourself at the idea.

“You must be dreaming then because I’m sitting right here.” He says, an exaggerated wink your way.

You laugh, an even wider smile blossoming on your face along with a blush.

The two of you quiet down again, refocusing on your respective homework.

——————————————————

Against your many outbursts, reactions and screaming, the twins continued to pull their pranks on you, making your blood boil and your heart race for a reason you couldn’t explain.

Finally, a week before the fifth years had their O.W.L.S, you had fully had enough. Your stress levels had gone up and your patience wore thin.

You’d been helping the young exam takers study, feeling pity for them as you saw them looking almost physically ill from the stress.

Suddenly, as you helped one of them finally figure out the answer to their hardest problem, the twins apparated to your side, spilling water all over you.

“For heavens sake!” You scream, wiping off your face as the younger students stifle their giggles.

“You look like you could use a little help there y/n.” Fred says as he offers you a towel. You snap it out of his hand, dabbing at your face with it.

“I’m so sick of this! Detention, both of you!” You order, pushing past everyone up to your dorm and letting the door slam behind you as you collapse onto your bed and start crying.

You weren’t really sure what the reason was. It might’ve been that you figured Fred only liked you as a pranking target or it might’ve been all the stress. All you knew was you were crying in that moment.

A little while later, a soft knock at the door gets you to your feet, trudging over and pulling it open.

“Fred said he would like to speak to you.” Hermione informs you, taking in your drenched uniform with a look of sympathy.

“Of course he is.” You sigh. “Thanks Hermione.” You add with a grateful smile. She nods before walking back downstairs.

You quickly change out of your wet clothes, leaving your hair to air dry as you walk cautiously down the stairs to find Fred and only Fred sitting at a table in the common room.

“What is it you wanted?” You ask tiredly.

“Come with me.” He says simply, grabbing you by the hand before you can protest, pulling you through the painting at the door and down the many staircases and out into the courtyard.

“Where’s George? Waiting for your signal?” You ask dryly, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

“Y/n...” He starts, putting a finger under your chin and pulling your head up to look at him.

“Yes?” You ask impatiently.

He takes a deep breath, staying silent for a moment. You look over at him, noticing his unusual, almost nervous composure for the first time.

“This better be good, I’m bloody freezing.” You murmur, a smile tugging at both of your lips as you look into each other’s eyes.

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours for a tender kiss, making your eyes widen in shock.

You pull apart, you staring at him for a minute and him looking like he didn’t even know he what he just did.

“Well... you could’ve just done that instead of the pranks.” You say, two fingers pressing to your lips where the feeling of his own still lingers.

He laughs, glancing over at you with a smile.

“Merlin y/n, I was terrified of doing it.” He admits.

“But not of me bloody killing you?!” You shout, staring at him as though he’s gone insane.

“Nah, I reckon your life’d be too dull without George and I, you’d never go through with it.” He says with another grin.

You shake your head, laughing as you bury it into your hands.

“Merlin I can’t decide whether to kiss you or push you off a bridge.” You say, still laughing.

“Can I choose?” He asks, with a smirk.

You laugh a little harder, glancing over at him admiringly.

“You’re relentless.” You giggle, burying your face in your hands.

He moves in closer, wrapping an arm and a bit of his robe around you, resting his head on top of your own.

Your eyebrow quirks up, questioning his motives silently.

“You did say you were cold.” He shrugs with a sheepish smile, something you never once thought you’d see on Fred of all people. He was always loud, confident and daring. It was strange for you to be seeing him calm and nervous, vulnerable.

“Why yes, yes I did.” You smile, kissing him again.

“Well I see you made that decision then?” He asks playfully, making you scoff.

“Ugh I don’t know why I fancy you.” You groan, resting your head on his shoulder.

He laughs a bit. “Perhaps because it’s me we’re talking about here?” He asks, a smug look on his face.

“Yes perhaps that’s why.” You agree sarcastically, standing up and holding out your hand for him to follow. “If we aren’t in bed soon Percy may find us.” You explain, pulling him along with you as he had done earlier.

“Oh yes, Percy the prefect.” He says sarcastically, a mocking grin on his face.

“Oh shush, you know I’m also a prefect.” You snap back with a grin of your own.

“Yes but you’re the better prefect. The perfect prefect!” He whispers.

“Very cheesy Weasley, I must say.” You tease.

He chuckles, the two of you sneaking back to the portrait as quietly and inconspicuously as possible.

You sit on the sofa, sinking right into it with Fred right next to you, content with just being close to each other.

“Are these pranks going to stop now? Because though I may look good in y/f/c, my hair can’t take anymore.” You ask with an eyebrow quirked, your mouth set in a line to try and intimidate him.

He grins again, a mischievous look on his face. “Perhaps.” He says vaguely, making you groan.

“You know, there are other people to prank.” You offer hopefully.

“Oh yes but there’s only one y/n y/l/n.” He argues, pecking your lips.

“Very sweet but I’d hardly call that an apology.” You say with a half smile.

He hums in thought, obviously messing with you as he pretends to contemplate it.

“You may have to work harder for that one I’m afraid.” He says, his teeth glinting with the grin he flashes you.

You scoff, tossing one of the cushions nearest to you at him and wondering what could possibly be in store for you with this red headed prankster.

242 notes · View notes

barbecuebabybackribs · 4 years

Photo

Dating Rosalie Hale Would Include: (Male Reader)

It was a normal day for Rosalie

It felt like the millionth time she went to college, she couldn’t go to ivy league colleges every time- although she wished she could since now she was at an underfunded local college, she was just glad she didn’t need to suffer within the dorms which were- less then hygienic

She already had taken this course dozens of time so her mind was else where, that was until the smell hit her

Something so alluring, it almost drove her mad, suddenly an intense urge to go find something consumed her, she knew what this feeling was, she knew it was her mate- the stories the other told her about described this feeling- she was about to get up and follow it when the door creaked open.

She looked over and saw a young man walk into the room- he looked confused and somewhat embarrassed- it’s him, is all she thought.

Everything about her drew her in, she wanted to run up and embrace him that very second but she knew she couldn’t

She looked around the room, there were a few open chair around the room but most of them were around her- the other humans could instinctively tell something was off with her, that she was a predator even if they didn’t consciously know it- she prayed he would choose a seat next to her

As the younger boy gave a slip to the teacher and then made his way up the aisles to find a seat- they locked eyes for a moment.

Your entire face ran hot as you made eye contact with one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, she quite literally took your breath away

You saw nearly half the aisle she was in was empty.

You weren’t quite ballsy enough to sit right next to the beautiful girl in your class- this wasn’t some cheesy romance movie and you didn’t want to make it obvious

so you sat two chair away from her, your palms sweat slightly when she looked at you and smiled- something about her made you nervous but you still wanted to get to know her.

You spend the whole class trying your best to pay attention but being distracted by the fact that Rosalie keeps looking at you- looking strangely excited

Which was accurate, she was practically over the moon, you didn’t sit right next to her but you were close enough- for now.

She had been desperately searching for a mate for her entire life- even her human one.

She has so desperately wanted to be loved, she died because she trusted the wrong man with her love.

She just wanted to be held by someone she loved, to feel a loving embrace, to simply exist in the presence of someone who loves he unconditionally

That’s why she brought Emmett to Carlisle, she thought she finally found someone who would love her.

And Emmett did, but not the way she wanted. He loved her as a Sister, a Friend- but that wasn’t enough

She was so excited but also so terrified of messing up her one opportunity at love- she was ultimately going to leave it up to you whether or not you would date, she didn’t want to pressure you into anything because of how she felt.

So that’s how it went on for almost a week, casting a shy glance at Rosalie and meeting her sweet smile.

You laughed sometimes at how cold she looked whenever anyone else interacted with her but when you so much as looked at her she looked as if she couldn’t hurt a fly

You wanted to say hello but you were so terrified that you had misread the signs and she just wanted to be alone.

So you decided you would simply sit down in the seat next to her but not say anything- you’d leave that up to her

You nearly jumped out of your skin when she said hello.

You looked over and almost got lost in her strangely color honey eyes- they matched her hair, it was beautiful

“Hello!” You snapped out of it, “Uhm, I’m new, I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked.” You hadn’t that why you were so nervous and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

“I’m Rosalie,” She smiled, “And your Y/N, right?”

“Uhm yeah, how’d you know?”

“I heard you talking to the teacher once, don’t worry I’m not stalking you.” Which was true, she always looked down on how Edward would handle the situation with Bella, so she let you have your space

“Oh,” You said slightly embarrassed at how loud you must’ve been talking

“Well it’s nice meeting you Rosalie, we should talk more often, I don’t know many people around here.” You sucked in a nervous breath, almost dying on the spot when she didn’t respond immediately

“Oh, I’d love that.” Her voice was soft but sweet

From that day forward you two would chat before and after class- about everything.

Simple things like what your favorite things were, what things you disliked, to more complicated things like family. You both could talk about anything and everything and even if you disagreed it was okay, you both accepted it.

You found yourself constantly getting lost in her voice as she told you about her life, her family, literally anything and you were in-captured

You started hanging out, outside of school

First place you went was your favorite cafe- which she was reluctant by but agreed. She ordered a cappuccino

“Rose, you don’t need to drink it if you don’t like it”

“I’m not much of a... coffee person.”

“Then why did you- you know what it’s okay.” You laughed

You decided to find things other then cafe’s to go to

You go to the movies

To parks and just talk, or to goof around

She takes you shopping when your one jacket get’s damaged and she learns you can’t afford a new one with your student loans and student housing debt

Girl wants to cry when she learns how crappy your dorm room is- constantly has leaks from the rain, loud obnoxious dormmates, light’s that constantly flicker and give you headaches.

She makes a vow to try and make your college experience as pleasant as possible.

After a month she finally asks you out

You choke on you drink but manage to wheeze out a yes as she pats your back

She takes you to a cafe- opts to not order anything- and then to the park where she planned a cute little picnic

She’s been planning this for decades and she’d be damned if she didn’t spoil the hell out of you

She ends up rambling about cars when you compliment hers.

Is so happy when you respond with your rudimentary knowledge of cars

She’s so elated the entire day

She drives you to your dorm.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay getting home, Rose? It’s after dark and I wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

“I’ll be fine Y/N... thank you for worrying.”

“Alright... just please be safe alright?”

“Same goes for you.”

There’s a moment of pause and you work up the courage to halfly do what you’d been wanting to all day.

You kiss her cheek

Then rush inside as you almost hyperventilate- was dating supposed to be this nerve-wracking?

You almost don’t go to class the next day

She’s smiling ear to ear when she see’s you

“So about last night-”

“Uh- sorry i should’ve asked- I don’t know what I was thinking, heh, I understand if-”

“No, I liked it.”

“oh”

You blush for the rest of the class

Practically skip back to the dorms

She texts you later that day and asks if you’d want to come to her house during the weekend

You agree although nervous to meet her family so soon

She picks you up in her convertible.

You both find out you have similar taste in music- you sing the songs with her and both laugh at how poorly the both of your singing was

When you pull up you gawk at her house

“Rose your rich.”

“Only slightly.”

“Women- you have a mansion and a convertible- I have a whole in the wall and not even a tire to roll in.”

She laughs and leads you inside

“Y/N!” You almost get tackled by a small pixie like girl,

“Alice!” Rosalie practically hissed yanking her off you

“Uhm- It’s okay? Hi?” You were confused but didn’t want to hurt anyones feelings by being mean

“Sorry, Rosalie.” The pixie girl giggled as a blonde man appeared behind her- are all these people like insanely attractive?

“Y/N! I’m so glad to meet you, I know we’ll be great friends! This is my husband Jasper!” She gestured to the blonde man who smiled stiffly at you.

“Well, Hi. It’s nice meeting you finally, Rose told me a lot about you guys.”

“All good thing I hope,” A kind woman looking in her mid twenties called out from across the room, “Alice why don’t you let Y/N take two steps in the door before you nearly tackle him to the ground.”

You have an awkward but pleasant meeting with everyone before Rosalie swiftly drags you to her room- obviously embarrassed.

“So your family is nice- little odd but nice.” You say when you enter her room.

“Don’t tell them that, it’ll go straight to their heads.”

You end up inspecting her entire room, lots of books on cars- but a lot of other things as well, Medical books, mathematical books, Shakespeare, scientific books and collectibles

“Uhm Rose?”

“Yes?”

“Are you... a genius?”

“No, but I am smart.”

“Rose, your rich, pretty, nice, smart- why the hell are you seeing me?”

You said it in a joking manor but when you looked over you could tell she was taking it very seriously

“Don’t ever say that Y/N.”

“I’m sorry- I didn’t know it’d upset you.”

“It’s okay- just please don’t joke about that sort of thing, your the only person I want to be with.” She breathed out before putting a smile on her face, “Anyways, What do ya wanna do?”

You end up spending the day talking and she shows you around the house, then shows you the cars she’s working on- You also talk to her family some more- Alice and Esme adore you, so do the others they’re just more quiet about it

You end up staying way later then intended,

“I should probably go back to the dorms, I’d hate to keep you guys up to late.”

“Ah right.” Rosalie said awkwardly, “You’re probably tired.”

“Slightly but considering I always stay up to finish paper I’m fiii- Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I HAVE A PAPER DUE TOMORROW AND I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED- I GOTTA GO.” You said practically sprinting out the house,

“Y/N- I drove you here!”

You turn around and grab her hand- not even thinking about being embarrassed- “We have to go!” You announced, hurrying out of the house.

You end up speeding home with her and she spends the night helping you with the paper- finding it cute how stressed you got over a relatively easy paper

She ends up spending the night- your dorm mates don’t mind since they’ve had done much more inappropriate things with women while you were in the room then sleep

Rosalie ends up pretending to sleep until you fall asleep, loving it when you- while still asleep- throw an arm around her and cuddle up to her

“I’m really glad I met you.” She said softly letting you sleep in her arms, knowing your safe helps her relax and she gets as close to sleep as a vampire can get

Loves how you look when you wake up- hair disheveled, cheeks flushed , eyes droopy.

“You’re so handsome.” She said kissing your nose- smiling when she hears your heart beat quicken.

“That’s rich coming from the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

“Would you guys stop it with that sappy shit!” Your dorm mate said throwing a shoe at you- Rosalie somehow cached it and chucked it back at him.

“Sorry about them.”

“It’s alright, it’s worth it to spend time with you.”

You guys are pretty sappy 94% percent of the time- the other 6% of the time you are on some crackhead shit

“Rose look at this!” “Y/N DON’T GO ON THE CHANDELIER--”

She basically is the only reason your alive

She loves when you pick her up- like loves it more then life itself

She finally gets the loving and comfortable embrace she’s been longing

Will leap into your arms so your guard is always up

Your first kiss is simple but amazing, she doesn’t want to stop but knows she has too

Once you share that first kiss the damn has been broken

Long make-out sessions, quick kisses goodbye, sloppy kisses, french kisses, Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses- you guys do them all.

One time she bit your lip and pulled on it slightly- you let out a moan and that girl had to physically restrain herself from going further

When becoming more intimate comes up she decides to tell you

She just straight up comes up to you and says it

“Stop panicking-”

“I made out with a vampire- why don’t you have fangs?”

“That’s a myth.”

“Oh wow- that’s a myth but what about the blood thing- cause I love you but I don’t know if I’m into that.”

She explains everything to you calmly- answering all you questions

You end up getting pretty excited and rambling about all sorts of things

“Omg, can you turn into a bat because that’d be sick.”

“No- You’re taking this very well.”

“I’m dating a gorgeous, strong, vampire woman- I couldn’t be happier.”

Rosalie loves you so much

From that day forward there are no secrets

She tells you everything- even about Roy.

You hold her when she starts to get emotional, stroking her back softly

“Thank you for being... you.” She mumbles into you chest.

“It’s my pleasure.”

On a happier note, she loves kissing your neck

Kissing your nose

Kissing you just about everywhere

Holding your hand is a must everywhere

You watch her work on cars and talk to her

She teaches you a few things

Stroking your hair

She spoils you with gifts- you ask her to stop because it’s overwhelming you

You guys don’t wait to get intimate.

In her car or in your dorm is your go to places- the thought of her family or your roommates hearing you makes you skittish

All I’m gonna say is she like’s having power

She only turns you because you get sick- extremely sick.

Treatments aren’t working and Carlisle know’s you won’t make it

He pumps you full of drugs so you don’t feel as much of it as possible

Rosalie holds you and is on the verge of tears that won’t seem to spill

Want’s to take your pain away when you clutch at her blouse and plead with her to make it stop,

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. But I can’t loose you.”

She knew you wanted to be a vampire- she let you make the decision- and the pain was just taking over, but it still killed her

Hold’s you in her arms for day’s waiting for you to wake up

When you do she doesn’t let go

“Rose- Can I get up please?” You rasp out- your throat unbearable dry

“Oh of course.”

Rosalie can’t help but smile when she see’s you smiling at her

She’s about to speak when Alice bursts in the room carrying a mirror “Oh. Y/N you’re so handsome you must see!”

Everyone is somewhat sympathetic but also excited

Rosalie drags you away and swear she’ll be the only one who teaches you about being a vampire- and she does

You guys are an iconic and powerful duo

You insist on carrying her around bridal style since you obtained your newfound strength

She isn’t complaining

Speaking of bridal

You guys get married a few years after your turned

Alice want’s to plan it all and go all out- but you and Rosalie want to plan a smaller arrangement

It’s cute- Alice could’ve made it cuter but it was cute

Wanting to cry during the vows

You guys can break it down on that dance floor- she gave you lessons

You guys go to Paris for your honeymoon- and let’s just say the wedding night does not disappoint

Although the others in the hotel who wanted to sleep are disappointed

You guys are so unbelievably happy together

You’re so glad you found each other, so glad you got to be with the other.

You don’t know what the future holds but whatever happens you know you can get through it together because you have each other.

(Opinions? Also techinically I didn’t lie it did come out when I said it’s just kinda late lmao) @iiconicsfan25 i hope this was okay

#Rosalie hale #rosalie hale imagine #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie hale x male reader #rosalie cullen x reader #Rosalie cullen imagine #rosalie cullen x male reader #twilight x male reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #twilight fanfic #twilight fanficiotn #fanfic #fanficition #request #twilight request

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

Note

Hmmmmm... JotaKak headcanons? If you want to, of course, just thought some p3 would be nice. It can be platonic or romantic, whichever you like best!

Yo! I’m such shit at writing shippy stuff so I went down the platonic bro route :)

You can tell I have insane brain rot right now because I went a bit too hard on all of these oops-

I’m so sorry about the last one its too cursed drghkjfhg

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Kakyoin is a very active sleeper.

-You can always catch him moving around, twitching, mumbling, etc…he’s a nightmare to share a bed with

-He can’t control it at all, so Jotaro would pay no mind to it when they had to share rooms and tried to ignore it—until it got progressively worse

-He started to notice when Kakyoin would get nightmares, he wouldn’t be able to wake up from them, he would just keep on thrashing around until someone would shake him awake (which he ends up doing more times that Kak would like to admit)

-He never talks about what they're about but judging on what he says in his sleep, Jotaro has a pretty good idea

-He absolutely cannot be touched when he’s finally awake, so stand hugs become a recurring thing :)

- It gets to a point where Star ends up sitting at the end of Kakyoin’s bed all night just watches him to make him feel safer

-Jotaro claims that he doesn’t have control over Star Platinum’s overprotective nature but that’s not entirely true

Since they’re the only two who speak fluent Japanese, they crack jokes with each other all the time and have little conversations with each other way more than they do with the others.

-Kakyoin spent a pretty long period of time studying English (having no friends will do shit to you,) but Jotaro isn’t as confident with his

-Kakyoin is the only one in the group who knows that Joot isn’t just soft spoken, but instead mega self-conscious about his English

-Does he make Kakyoin order food for him? Yes. Does he make him ask for directions? Yes. Does Kakyoin always tease him about it? Yes.

-Kakyoin makes Jotaro speak only in English an hour before they go to bed to help him learn and he feels so fucking stupid because his pronunciation is awful and he can barely say any shit without his face turning red but he does it anyway because he knows it'll help :)

Jotaro is not emotionless.

-I read in the back of my Stardust manga that Jotaro just bottles up his feelings for the sake of the importance of the mission to defeat DIO and I just- dfkjghsdahfd

-Although Kakyoin just cries freely whenever he feels like it, our boy Joot Doot has alternative outlets

-Shit like crying in the shower, while everyone’s asleep, or outside are stuff he’ll do but only if he’s positive that he’ll be alone

-After a particularly rough fight, they checked into their hotel rooms and while Kakyoin left to go get something to eat, Jotaro just collapses onto his bed and fuckin bawls

-Star is squeezing him so hard and he’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice Kakyoin walk back into the room and jesus is our boy shocked

-Jotaro braces himself for a round of taunts but instead he just sits down next to him and asks him if he wants to talk about it :’)

-He doesn’t but its always good to have a bro to sit and cry with

After the Death 13 fight, Kakyoin refuses to sleep.

-Fairly enough, he’s worried that he might not wake up again

-He knows he should talk to someone about it, but if he brings up anything that happened in the desert that day, they‘ll just assume he’s lost his mind again

-So he refuses to sleep, instead

-Jotaro starts to notice things when Kakyoin starts looking rough—our boy had the eyebags, the exhausted expression, on-edge demeanor, the whole-ass package— but Kakyoin just dismisses it as nothing

-He decides to wait to go to sleep until Kakyoin closes his eyes first, and when he just doesn’t, he starts to get concerned

-Jotaro finally confronts him about it and Kakyoin gets ready to deny any of his questions, but something inside him snaps and he tells him everything and Jotaro believes him

-Death 13 was the only tarot card they hadn’t fought yet, so why would he lie about that?

-Although he offhandedly refuses to sleep, the next night Jotaro busts in with this giant mug of sleepy tea and makes him drink every last drop in front of him

-Jotaro thought that would convince him to finally close his eyes, but once he feels too tired to keep them open, he starts freaking the fuck out

-The night ends with Star Plat holding him until he’s able to get to sleep (because who wouldn’t feel safe in the warm arms of a purple punch ghost?) and Jotaro making sure that he stayed that way

-His insomnia never fully went away, but he’s got his best homie to help him out whenever sleep ails him :)

Jotaro is actually really insecure about his height.

-It was pretty typical to poke Joot about his height because, well, he’s a 17 year old that already reaches 6’5”

-It was also pretty typical for Joot to pull down his hat and say nothing because that’s how he reacts to everything

-It wasn’t until the two of them were chilling in their hotel rooms one night when Jotaro quietly popped the question: “Do you think I’m too tall?”

-Kak almost laughs at that but when he sees the concerned look on his face, he realizes, oh my god, he’s actually serious

-His mind immediately goes back to all the times that he’s seen Jotaro staring at himself in the mirror, preferring to sit in the back of the car and never walking side-by-side with any of them

-And he suddenly feels really, really bad

-Jotaro doesn’t talk about it much, but Kakyoin knows he feels the worst when Joseph talks about it even though he knows Joseph is probably just proud of the Joestar trait being passed on

-He stops making comments on his height and always makes sure that he’s not seen as some kind of “freak” for something as stupid as his height :)))

They tried to dye Jotaro’s hair once.

-YES this is total crack but here me out

-Kakyoin finds some cheap-ass hair dye in some store or market

-He busts in and before Jotaro can even speak, Kakyoin is already planning how he’s gonna do this

-Joot is completely opposed to the idea, but Kakyoin says he’ll tell Avdol and Polnareff that Jotaro ate the rest of their chocolate (which he did in fact do)

-They grab some bleach, lock their door, and get ready to screw themselves over

-The process goes a little something like this:

“Okay...the bleach is supposed to sting pretty badly...think you’ll be okay?”

“Just shut up and get it over with.”

*starts spreading bleach*

“ORAAAAA—”

-Turns out that despite punching the shit out of people being his job description, Jotaro has the most sensitive scalp on the planet

-Star Platinum is freaking out, grabbing his hair with one hand and trying to find shit to throw with the other, and Jotaro is sitting there with this blank, lifeless stare

“I’m guessing it hurts?”

“...”

“...yeah.”

-Is Jotaro starting to freak out a bit? Maybe. Do they stop now...?

-They don’t really have a choice because Star just demolished the hotel alarm clock

-They started right in the middle of his head, and when Jotaro looks in the mirror he sees this patch of blond right in the dead centre of his scalp and lets out this bewildered and devastating yelp

-Kakyoin get’s this awful feeling in his stomach they had just royally fucked up, and when it still stays there after they try to wash it out he knows they did an oopsie

-Joot is just standing there in shock and Star starts trying to rip out his own hair and Kakyoin is praying to god that they don’t wake up the others

-They end up just saying fuck it and putting in the dye anyway because he can’t just have a blond spot for the rest of the trip

-The stuff Kakyoin picked out was actually a shade of purple so dark that it almost looks black and it actually works out almost perfectly

-Most of it is covered up by his hat but there’s a little streak that pokes out into the open and it glows in the sun :)

-No one knows about this and no one even NOTICES until they get back from Egypt and Holly is like “YOU DYED YOUR HAIR?! IT LOOKS SO CUTE!” and at this point Jotaro has just completely stopped caring about it because it was weeks ago and gives them this deadass “yep” and walks out of the room

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

hggggnnnnn here’s some feral head canons for y’all, I hope you're having a nice Wednesday! If you have any questions/requests/vibes, you know where to find me :)

#headcanons #jjba headcanons #jjba #stardust crusaders #kakyoin noriaki #jotaro kujo #ask-c-c-cherry

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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

Text

I’ve Never Felt So Helpless

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

“Tim.”

“In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—”

“Tim!”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Tim is a simple man, no matter what anyone else says. Does he fight crime in tights? Yes, and proudly. Does he guiltily watch the occasional Riverdale episode because he had a crush on Cole Sprouse growing up and owes this to his prepubescent self? Obviously. Would he like to enjoy a relaxing night every once in a while, devoid of supervillains and near-death experiences? One hundred percent. Tim has stated this precise case upwards of a dozen times tonight, yet here he is, exhausted and covered in plant matter from a fight with Poison Ivy. All because Steph wanted to handle Ivy’s escape from Arkham themselves despite the fact that she and Tim specifically asked for tonight off so they could have some alone time for the first time in weeks. Tim bought sparkling cider, dammit. “You are way too hung up on this,” Stephanie says, wringing out her hair from when Ivy chucked her into a pond. They stand together on a rooftop, watching the final squad car pull away from the scene. It is not nearly as satisfying as it should be. “I wanted one night. One.” “There will be other nights, Tim. Besides, we caught Ivy before she could do any major damage. I call that a job well done.” “At the cost of our date night!” “Oh, like you’ve never canceled plans to fight crime. You’ve blown me off for supervillains plenty of times. So have I. But this time, we got to do it together, which I think counts as a date night.” “It doesn’t, actually. Normal people do things like going out to dinner, catching a movie, taking romantic walks on the beach. I want to be like that.” Steph turns to face him. She plants her hands on her hips. “Tim.” “And, you know, I can’t remember the last time we got to have a date night that didn’t involve punching someone. Do you know how insane that is?” “Tim.” “In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—” “Tim!” “What?” “You’re bleeding.”

Tim looks down where she points at a spot on his neck, and—was that stinging sensation always there? He touches the part of his cowl that covers his neck. His glove comes away covered in blood. “Oh.” Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel the blood rushing from the wound at a speed that he’s fairly certain wounds aren’t supposed to bleed at. “That’s not good.” Steph is in front of him in an instant, one hand pressed against his neck and making him hiss. “How does the world’s greatest detective not realize he’s got a giant gash in his neck?” Should Tim be feeling this woozy already? It must be the adrenaline rushing out, leaving him a puppet without strings. “There was a razor vine, but I thought it missed me.” His legs shake, dangerously close to giving out. Steph takes notice and helps lower him to the ground so they’re on their knees, facing each other. “Clearly, it didn’t. Take your cowl down, let me see.” Tim obeys. Steph has to let go of the wound for a moment so he can loosen the cape from around his neck. It’s only a second, but Tim already feels warm blood seeping down his collar, soaking into the fabric of his uniform. “Shit,” Steph hisses when she gets a good look. Her hands fly back to press against the wound. “How bad is it?” “Bad.” She fumbles in her belt for a pad of gauze. She pins it to his throat, trying to keep the blood inside of him where it belongs. “It didn’t hit an artery, did it?” That would...well, it would be pretty damn bad. Life-threatening, if it isn’t already. “I don’t think so. The gash is too low.” She presses harder when blood leaks from a gap in her fingers. “It shouldn’t be bleeding this much, should it? The wound isn’t even that big. I don’t think your blood is clotting like it should.” Tim goes even paler than he already is. “Oh.” “Oh?” “Ivy. She sprayed me with something.” He winces as the wound throbs. “During the fight.” “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” “I was busy! And I felt fine, so I figured I would run a blood test when we got back to the cave. I didn’t think she would do something to my blood.” “Damn it. Okay.” Steph closes her eyes, thinking. “Can you reach your communicator?” “Yeah, I think so.” Tim reaches for his utility belt, tilting his head to see better. That small motion causes Steph’s hand to slip, allowing another gush of blood to spurt from his neck. “Shit, shit, shit.” She repositions, gets a better grip on the wound. “Don’t move your head.” Tim swallows nervously. “We good now?” “I think so. Just...be careful, okay? Small movements. You’ve already lost too much blood, so I want to keep you as plugged up as possible.” “Kinky.” “Shut up.” Tim manages to locate the communicator and turn it on. Just in time, too. It’s getting harder and harder to focus, the blood drying on his neck and sticking to his skin. If he wasn’t anemic before, he certainly is now. The communicator crackles. “You’ve got Oracle. I thought you and Batgirl were off duty tonight.” “We are,” Steph says. “Listen, can you patch me through to whoever can hypothetically get me and Red Robin to the cave as fast as humanly possible?” “What happened?” “We had a run-in with Ivy. She’s taken care of, but she did something to Red. Something to keep his blood from clotting. He’s got a laceration on his throat and I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but I don’t know how much longer we have.” “Sending an ambulance to your location.” “Negative. His face is uncovered, so a regular hospital is off the table. It needs to be the Batcave.” “Got it, I’ll transfer you to Batman. He can take you in the Batmobile. I’ll call Leslie Thompkins and have her meet you guys there.” “Tell her to hurry.” Steph’s voice wavers, anxious. Tim wants to reassure her that he’ll be fine, but it’s getting more and more difficult to concentrate, like he’s a radio trying to tune to the right station. He tips forward and presses his forehead against Steph’s shoulder, his body sagging. She keeps him upright, careful not to loosen her grip on the gauze. Finally, the communicator beeps. “Batman here. What is it?” Steph runs through their situation again, leaving Tim free to drift as he pleases. Steph is warm against him, like a fresh latte. There’s blood in her hair. Tim runs his fingers through the bloody patches, trying to separate the clumps. Something prods his shoulder. “Hm?” “I asked how you’re doing.” Bruce doesn’t sound nervous—he never does. But Tim knows him better than most. He can tell when he’s worried. “I’m hanging in,” Tim manages. “How long ‘til you get here?” “I’m ten minutes out. You think you can hold on until then?” “Mm-hm.” Honestly, Tim isn’t sure if he can. But at least Bruce won’t worry as much if he thinks Tim is going to be okay. “Batgirl, do either of you have an Ivy antidote on you?” “I have a couple for her general toxins, but I don’t know how they’d do with this one. Should I give it a shot anyway?” “No, it might make things worse. Keep me updated on his condition. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Batman, out.” A click. Tim tosses aside the communicator, uncaring of whether he turned it off properly or not. The ground rocks beneath him, like the rooftop is floating on a roiling ocean. Steph’s free hand runs through his hair, soothing on his scalp. “Sweetie, are you still with me?” “Mm.” “Stay awake, okay? Just for a little longer.” Tim nods against her shoulder. Steph releases a breath. “Good. Now, do you think you can reach into my belt and get some more gauze? This one is soaked through.” Already? That’s a bad sign. Tim doesn’t move his head from her shoulder. “Which pocket?” “Uh...second one on the left of my right hip, I think? I usually go by muscle memory.” Tim checks the pocket and finds no gauze, but there is a stick of gum and a few rubber bands. “Next to that one, maybe?” Still nothing. “Steph, do you actually know what you’re doing?” “Look, it’s easier when I can see it, okay? Here, bunch up your cape. I can use that for now until Bruce gets here.” It takes some careful maneuvering for Tim to reach his cape without moving his head or neck, but he manages to fold it the best he can. He hands it to Steph, so brings it close to the wound. “Okay,” she says. “I’m going to switch off now. Ready?” Tim nods. “Do it.” She’s quick about it. She yanks away the soiled gauze and replaces it with the cape in seconds, but blood eagerly spills out as soon as it’s free. Tim’s vision goes blotchy, the darkness behind his eyelids sprinkled with stars. He hisses when Steph crams the fabric against the wound hard enough to make him want to jerk away. He doesn’t, though, just digs his fingers into her shoulder and takes deep breaths through his teeth. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs. “It’ll stop hurting in a bit.” She presses a kiss to his hair. “I’ve got the bleeding under control, I think.” “You think or you know?” “I think.” That’s not at all reassuring. Even so, Tim finds that he doesn’t mind as long as it’s Steph with him. He would gladly put his life in her hands, and now that he’s here, he’s content. He trusts her. “Tim?” “Hm?” “I changed my mind.” “On what?” “We should have done a date night instead.” Tim snorts, but it’s weak. More a huff than anything. “This isn't so bad. ‘Least we’re together.” “Yeah, covered in blood on a freezing rooftop. Very romantic.” Tim hums, presses his nose to her neck and closes his eyes. She smells like lavender. “You’re pretty.” “Stop that.” “Stop what?” “Stop talking like you’re dying.” “‘m just making an observation. You’re pretty.” There is blood covering both of their uniforms, smeared across the bat symbol on Steph’s chest. Her face glistens with sweat from the fight, and there’s a bruise on the side of her jaw. She’s still gorgeous. “You’re a dork.” Tim hums. His stomach rolls and his heart picks up until he can feel it throbbing in his skin, like his pulse is racing to get out. He closes his eyes. “I don’t feel good.” “Bruce is going to be here in a few minutes. Hang in there, alright?” How much blood has he lost by now? Two pints? Three? How much longer does he have before the point of no return? Even as Steph keeps pressure against the wound, he can feel rivulets running down his neck. She can’t keep the bleeding at bay forever. “I love you...y’know that?” “Don’t say that. I’m not kidding.” “Someone should...should feed m’cat. Ruby’s tiny, but she eats a lot.” “Bruce is on his way, Tim. You’re gonna be fine. Don’t fall asleep yet.” “I’m losing blood,” he mumbles against her shoulder. “Humans...need blood to survive. ‘m gonna go into hypovolemic shock soon, and then it’s over.” He can barely lift his head now. There are weights attached to his eyelids. “Stay awake, Tim. You hear me?” Steph’s voice trembles, and Tim feels awful for putting her through this. She deserves better. “You’re not dying. I won’t let that happen.” Tim wants to reassure her, to tell her she’s right, if only to keep her from making those shaky crying noises. There are tears dripping on his shoulder. He wants to stick around, keep Stephanie from feeling the hurt that’s about to come, but his pulse is racing too quickly to keep up with blood it can’t circulate. He hears Steph’s voice somewhere above, calling his name, but she’s too far away. Tim lets himself sink into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steph hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet. She knows she should. She’s sticky, covered in blood that dries on her suit in rusty red flakes. The blood is thick in her hair, on her hands, soaked into the fabric over her knees. Tim’s blood.

She can still feel it—feel Tim’s fluttering pulse under her fingertips, growing weaker and weaker with every passing second. The weight of him against her shoulder, slumped as if he was already dead. And then the agonizing moment where she felt him let go, sagging against her like a corpse. She wants to forget it. To forget this entire night, wipe it clean from her memory. Pretend that everything is still okay, even when it isn’t. “How are you doing?” Steph looks up at Bruce. She didn’t even hear him come in. He hands her a cup of coffee, which she takes in cold hands. “I’m fine.” Her voice suggests otherwise. “He’s going to be okay.” Steph looks back at Tim asleep on the medical cot, his skin as pale as a cadaver's. A bag of O-negative hands beside the bed, pumping blood into his body through an IV. Another IV pricks his other arm, delivering the antitoxin. He looks dead. He was unconscious for a full three minutes before Bruce arrived on that rooftop, lifeless in Steph’s arms. It was the most terrifying three minutes of her life. “Stephanie.” Bruce’s face is stern but sympathetic, his eyes gazing into her own. “You did good tonight.” “He nearly died.” “But he didn’t. You saved his life. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” Steph can count on one hand the number of times Bruce has said that to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Alfred prepared a room for you upstairs. You look like you could use some sleep.” Steph shakes her head. “I think I’ll stay here for a while. Just until he wakes up.” Bruce nods and leaves, his footsteps echoing off the cave walls. Steph reaches out and grasps one of Tim’s cold hands in her own. His fingertips were pale before, almost blue, but they are slowly returning to their rightful shade. She sighs. Fuck it. She leaves the coffee on her chair and climbs into the bed beside Tim, pulling herself close and resting her head on his chest. She can hear his heartbeat under her ear, steady and unfaltering. She closes her eyes. “Don’t do that again, okay?” she whispers. “Or I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself.”

#whumptober 2020 #no.30 #wound reveal #timsteph #batfamily #batfam #stephanie brown #batgirl #spoiler #robin #tim drake #red robin #idiot duckboy #batman #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic

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straightouttaneptune · 4 years

Text

You’ll come with me, won’t you?

Pairing: Harley Quinn x Reader

Warning: It’s different. Joker is a bitch. Reader becomes kind of morally weird as the fic progresses. People die.

Summary: Y/N is a baby psychiatrist, who just started out. Suddenly, she is trusted with the most feared case of all. Harleen Quinzel. Y/N thinks it’ll be good for her career, or will it?

A/N: I couldn’t find a good ending to this for the longest time, I’m so glad I did. Also, this is for my 500 followers fic queue :) Thank you for the love, darlings✨

—————————————————————

“Harleen Quinzel?”

That was a name you’d heard before. That was a name everyone’s heard before, at least once in their lives. But it was not the name that had surprised you, but it was the fact that her name was right there on top of your long patient list.

“Yeah, congrats Y/N. She’s pretty famous around here. Straighten her out and you’ll probably be in the big city in less than a year.” Your colleague, Megan peered into your books over your shoulders and patted your back affectionately.

You were one of the new psychiatrists in the business, and you had been dealing with criminal minors, the less mental mental patients and all the clients that newbies would usually handle. Being fresh out of university after holing up in the labs and libraries, you needed to gain some experience first before taking on the really hard cases.

Or... that’s what you were told.

“C’mon, Meg, you gotta know more than that. Why would they pass her case to me? She’s a rank SS psycho.” You pushed, looking up at her through your lashes in a slightly accusatory manner.

She gave you a look that asked; “Do you really want to know?” And you nodded.

“Well, I heard the other docs, the guys who were like 10, 20, hell, 30 years into the business, they all got their brains scrambled by... this girlie.” Her index finger landed on the profile photo of Harley Quinn, an apologetic look in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes, not necessarily at Megan, but at whoever it was that tried to deal this card to you. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s cruel, but you can always turn it down, y’know?” Megan set her books aside, her left arm cradling your slumped shoulders.

“Yeah... But I might not.”

Megan’s dropped gaze snapped back up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a good way to kick-start my career, I guess.”

\|/

“Hello, new doc.” The moment you entered the room, you regretted making this decision immediately. Harley Quinn sat in a big contraption-looking chair, her hands and feet shackled onto the armrests and legs of the seat. Her platinum blonde hair was untied and unkempt, its bottoms still dyed red and blue, although it seemed to have faded over time.

The only thing dividing the space between you and Harley was a metallic table bolted on the floor, wide enough so even if Harley broke off her arm shackles and reached for you, she wouldn’t be able to touch you. You swallowed your nerves and entered the room with a confident stride, smiling sweetly at the guards as they closed the door with eyes of concern.

“Hello, Miss Quinzel.” You thanked heavens that your words came out right, especially in front of a woman who could sniff out people’s fears from thousands of miles away.

“You’re the first girl I’ve had.” She mused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But the light in her eyes has lost its original color, you thought. She looked much more lively in photos taken way back then. When she was just a psychiatrist.

“Hm. I guessed that it would be nice to have some heart to heart, female to female.” You reassured your anxious self calmly in your head, repeating the words ‘you got this, Y/N.’

“Do you know why I’m here, and not... Damien? Who usually comes in for your check-ups?” Stowing your clipboard away on your lap, you continued.

“Yeah. Before him was another guy, then a grandpa and just... a buncha stupid-lookin’ guys. But I didn’t like them.” She replied as if it was the most simple thing in the world. The files back in the company would argue differently. Every single guy, either was tormented by her psychotic attacks or totally gone insane from her mental tricks.

“Are you going to do the same thing to me?” You asked, not really knowing what answer to expect. Your eyes remained soft, a small smile gracing your lips as you waited for her answer.

“No. I like ya.” She answered quickly, shrugging and adverting her gaze away to look down at her shackles. “Can I sit down like you?” She shook her wrist lightly, the chains rattling against the armrest.

“Maybe next time, Miss Quinzel.”

“There’s a next time? Yeah!”

You internally smiled to yourself, what a successful human being she would’ve been if not for a man like Joker to ruin her life. Right then, you vowed to whatever higher power was out there, that you’d get Harley Quinn to break free from his spell.

The people in your office were surprised, to say the least, that you were able to keep up your visits to the prison, and that an amateur therapist like you could get the queen of Gotham in a tight little leash. You didn’t like to think about it like that, but rather that she trusts you better than any of the others.

The weekly visits became 2 days a week, and from weeks of good behavior, Harley was allowed to be without handcuffs during her sessions now. You weren’t afraid she’d leap up and strangle you, because of some sort of connection the two of you formed after all those times spent together.

“Hey doc, why can’t you visit me more ‘round here?” Harley pouted, interrupting the current therapy session with an abrupt comment.

You looked up from your clipboard, dumbfounded. Why would she want to have you around more?

“Harley, I’m just your therapist.” You tapped the end of your pencil against the material of the clipboard, locking eyes with the woman. Anyone could see that she was starting to look better, particularly her eyes. They looked more human, compared to the hollow shell they used to be.

“I know, Y/N. But I’ve been doin’ some thinkin. It’s pretty fuckin clear that Mister J isn’t coming for me, and the suicide squad was probably just a one-time thing. And... You’re all I have.” She admitted, slowly sliding down from her pipe chair and laying down on the concrete floor.

The wooden chair you sat on scraped against the hard floor as you pushed it back. Standing up from your seat, you walked over to her in 3 steps. You kneeled down beside her, her skin just inches away from you. “Do you want a hug?” You questioned quietly, your voice softer and more inviting than usual. Harley felt this too, sitting up in a millisecond just as the offer left your lips.

“Yeah.” She almost crawled over to you, her arms wrapping around your neck desperately. That would’ve been terrifying if it was out of context, but she actually wasn’t trying to kill you. She genuinely just wanted a warm embrace.

You felt her slender torso tighten and loosen as if she was trying to repress a sob. Hand carefully sliding over her back, you whispered; “Let it out.”

And she did.

\|/

Time flew by as you continued to work on her case, and you fell into the worst situation a psychiatrist could possibly be in while working. You grew emotionally invested in your client. As a friend, who cared for her well being and happiness.

Maybe... even more.

You still didn’t know if you could trust her though, you managed to keep a cool head and your mind was rational, but that only confirmed the fact that Harley wasn’t playing any tricks on you. That you were genuinely becoming attached to the beautiful prisoner.

Harley, on the other hand, did intend on ruining you at first. Make them run back to where they came from crying, so no one would disturb her again while she waited for her puddin.

But it was all starting to feel different with you.

“Hey, doc?” Harley called out from inside her electric cage. She was being a little bit mischievous that day, and she pulled an armed guard against the buzzing bars when he wasn’t looking. He probably died, she guessed.

But she didn’t like that she couldn’t be near you during your sessions. So a man died, big deal!

“Can you let me out?” She pleaded in the sweetest voice she could muster, calling out to you who was currently propped up on the usual desk, writing down some notes on your clipboard.

“No, Harley. I don’t have the keys to your cell.” You replied without looking up, but you could imagine the cute pout that Harley had when you denied her of something.

“But would you open it if you did?” You looked up at that question, seeing her smiling from ear to ear now, anticipation glowing in her eyes.

“Maybe. I know you won’t hurt me.” You smiled back at her, watching her facial expression carefully. How would she react if you showed some warm friendliness towards her? Could she possibly return to the life she used to have?

“Maybe I will, doc. You don’t know what goes on in here.” Harley leaped up to her cloth swing she’d made for herself, her now almost completely platinum hair draping down her back.

“I hope you won’t hurt me, then.”

You couldn’t forget that split second where Harley’s eyes looked more humane than it ever has been for many, many years.

\|/

“Warning. Warning. Escape Attempt in Sector 9H11.”

The sound of the speaker and the blasting alarm merged together in a chorus of chaos, guards and officers running around to stop whoever the escapee was.

It was 9:30AM and you were just about to enter the asylum for your shift, when this sudden noise almost blasted your ears off. Before you could process what was happening, a bomb went off right next to you, making you scream and clutch your head as you ducked.

The debris fell everywhere along with broken pieces of concrete, and you just stayed there trying to collect your thoughts. Right when a random hand grabbed you by your wrist.

“Hi, doc. I was lookin’ for ya. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Harley pulled you to the side, hiding the two of you behind a few bushes. Her eyes were electric making you realize that the true “Harleen Quinzel” you’ve been trying to look for is right in front of you now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” You didn’t hesitate to take her outreached hand. Your mind had already been made up since the first time you laid your eyes on her.

#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x y/n #harley quinn x you #dceu #dc #suicide squad #birds of prey #harley quinzel #harley quinn fic #harley quinn imagine

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 23

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 23 - Child Ghost

Twenty minutes later, each of the three hooligans sat on the bench in the hospital corridor in a daze, each clutching a bottle of fresh orange juice. The nurse had just scolded them for disturbing the rest of the patients in the surrounding rooms, and they all looked a little bit ashamed. A-Yan's face had some colour brought back. After drinking a few sips of the drink, he calmly said: "I c-can't exorcise it completely. I can only figure out the source of this thing. Maybe it's a good thing that it's harder to expel."

Lin Yan asked what he meant, and the little Daoist priest explained: “As the saying goes, 'He who never wrongs others does not fear the knock in the night*.' Although this girl is weak from her illness, there must be other reasons why, out of so many other patients, this thing chose her. If we can find the reason, then maybe it will leave by itself."

*(T/N: 不做亏心事，不怕鬼敲门 - means if you've done nothing wrong, you don't have to worry about any retributions.)

"It-It keeps repeating 'Why haven't you come yet?' It may be a wandering spirit who hasn't fulfilled his dying wish. His Yin energy is very weak. He probably died not that long ago."

Lin Yan's heart skipped a beat. He suddenly thought of Xiao Yu, and couldn't help but reveal his recent doubts to the little Daoist priest. After a long while, he turned his head and looked at the ghost next to him, and whispered: "Last time, I was only concerned about getting rid of him. I never asked him anything."

A-Yan sat curled up in the chair and listened to Lin Yan while gnawing on the cap of the orange juice bottle. He looked like a kitten. He jolted up and said: "Ghosts are divided into different categories. Today, the one here can only manifest by attaching itself to a living person and it will disappear once that person dies. However, the one that follows you is very, very strong."

A-Yan continued: "A ghost has no form at first, but if the soul is resentful and the body is buried in a place where the atmosphere has heavy negative energy, it's very likely to turn into a powerful ghost. A ghost will cultivate for a hundred years with a phantom body and, after a long time, it will develop a real body. When they have a real body, they don’t have to resort to 'bump around' like today, and they can even move around in the daytime without fear of Yang energy. They aren't so much ghosts as they are demons or animals." A-Yan clenched his fingers: " The most difficult evil spirit to deal with is known as the true body of the ten thousand clans. It requires special formations, plus needs to be done at the right time and place, so there's not much room for error. Once a part of the process goes wrong, the exorcist is likely to be drowned by the energy, go insane and instead be harmed by the evil spirit."

"L-Last time the formation was set up, Master made a fake one to fool the ghost, and he found the gap in time he needed. Otherwise, if you wanted to eliminate him, I'm afraid that you would have to gather more than fifteen boys in a Mandarin Duck Formation to have any hope." A-Yan suddenly gave Lin Yan a strange smile: "That was because he had just re-entered the world and was still confused when we tricked him. Now, I'm afraid. . . Brother Lin Yan, at this point, he should have already remembered something, right?"

Lin Yan thought back on all the things that happened at the lecture and the ghost's increasingly human-like behaviour. He was secretly surprised; was this ghost really recovering his memory? He nodded and replied, "He told me lots of things the day of the lecture. He can talk, just not very much."

A-Yan smiled nervously: "Y-Your four-pillar pure Yin is the most suitable alignment to feed ghosts. The longer he follows you, the more physical he'll become, and the more he'll remember."

"But. . ." A-Yan looked into the distance with a glaze in his eyes, his fingers tightly squeezed the drink bottle. He turned back and grinned at Lin Yan: "Be very careful."

"All I can say is that every action has a reaction, and I can't help you with anything at that point."

He didn’t know why, but Lin Yan felt that the way the little Daoist priest spoke seemed to imply something. Feeding ghosts. . . Lin Yan harshly inhaled the hospital’s air mixed with the smell of disinfectant and frowned. “Let's not talk about it. We have to save A-Zhou's cousin first and figure out the reason for the possession. Do you have to find out who the deceased is first?"

A-Yan nodded. Yin Zhou held his glasses, a little confused: "We don't have much time left. Dozens of people die in hospitals every month. We don't have time to go through each of them individually."

Lin Yan sighed: "That's no other option. Go and pull up the records of everyone who's died recently in the hospital. Maybe there's a clue somewhere."

After all, there were several people now that were exhausted from the attempted exorcism, paralyzed on the bench and not wanting to move. Lin Yan discreetly adjusted his position. Xiao Yu suddenly walked over to him, squatted down and grabbed his knees with both hands.

Lin Yan turned his face and snorted. "Weren't you ignoring me?"

Xiao Yu didn't answer. He gently lowered his head and put the side of his face on Lin Yan's knees, long hair cascading behind him like a waterfall. Lin Yan instinctively wanted to reach out his hand to touch his head, then he thought that he was probably still angry, so he put on an indifferent air and cold expression, not acknowledging him.

After a while, Xiao Yu raised his head. He pressed his hands firmly against Lin Yan's legs, stood up, turned and walked further down the corridor.

"Where are you going?" Lin Yan asked in a low voice. Seeing that he didn't answer, he had to follow a few steps behind. Xiao Yu quietly returned to the door of Xiao Yang's room and went straight through the door panel. Lin Yan was full of doubts. Peeking carefully through the door glass, he saw that Xiao Yang's mother was tired from crying and was sitting on the side of the bed, dozing off with her arms propping up her forehead. The girl, on the other hand, waited by the window again in the same manner as when Lin Yan had first arrived.

Xiao Yu walked to the girl's back and patted her shoulder lightly. What happened next left Lin Yan dumbfounded. The girl with her rolled-back eyes turned around and quietly "looked" at Xiao Yu, showing a normal human on her face for the first time. The corners of her mouth were pulled downward, a look of aggravation painted clearly on her face. Xiao Yu was tall, so he simply squatted in front of the girl and stroked her hair very softly. They were talking, and Lin Yan's eyes widened. Although he could not hear them, their expressions and slightly moving lips convinced him that they were indeed communicating in a language he didn't understand.

The little Daoist priest and Yin Zhou also followed at this time. They curiously holding the windowpane and looking in. They couldn't help but be shocked by the girl's appearance now.

"She's talking to herself?" Yin Zhou was surprised: "What's she saying?"

"Mortuary language." The little Daoist said in a deep voice. "The language used in ancient rituals to communicate with the dead."

Lin Yan looked at the harmonious picture in the room, unconsciously picking at the crack of the door. He grit his teeth and indignantly thought you're Xiao Yu. At home, you're fierce and want to kill me, yet you go talk to a young girl with such a tender look. You just look at such a pretty young girl that I don’t want to let it go. Zhu Xi's Neo-Confucianist teachings have really gone to the dogs. It’s useless for you to think about it. I decided ages ago. When she's a few years older, I'll take her to watch movies and visit the amusement park. Let's see what you can do. . .

"Hey? Are you going to follow him inside?" Yin Zhou patted Lin Yan on his shoulder. Lin Yan had been distracted internally cursing Xiao Yu, and he was so frightened that the hairs on his neck stood on end.

"Holy shit, when did you get here? Were you trying to scare me to death by keeping quiet?!" Lin Yan grumbled, clutching his heart.

"Did you really not hear me talking so loudly before?!" Yin Zhou said in surprise: ". . . Why are you blushing?"

A-Yan smiled and gave Lin Yan a deep look, not making a sound.

The conversation in the room seemed to be over. Xiao Yu stood up. He leaned over and rubbed the top of the girl's head and walked out. Xiao Yang reluctantly turned and stood by the window again. Lin Yan gritted his teeth and waited outside. He internally decided he wouldn't fall for any more of his tricks considering he seemed to do them with anyone. . .

Xiao Yu had already returned to stand in front of him while he was distracted. Lin Yan turned his face away from him in anger, but Xiao Yu didn't care. He took out the memo and the soft-tip fountain pen Lin Yan had bought from his pocket and began to write.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Yin Zhou looked at the pen and paper hanging in the air and stared in shock.

Xiao Yu shoved the note into Lin Yan's hand, then retreated to stand behind him. Lin Yan looked down. The light green note had two lines written on it. The first line was a series of capitalized numbers: "Three-Five-One-Zero-Zero-Four." The second line was a sentence: "He's waiting for his father."

"Father?" Yin Zhou looked at the words on the note and suddenly clapped his hands: "Hey, I got it, no wonder it came to Xiao Yang. Xiao Yang's mother is a single parent. My uncle passed away last year. I came to the hospital to watch her overnight last week and heard her say she missed her dad and it felt like he was still there with her. . . Then what does that row of numbers mean?"

Lin Yan was also puzzled holding the note. When he asked Xiao Yu, he shook his head and didn't speak. Lin Yan couldn't help muttering, "What the hell? You touched her head and smiled for a long time without asking anything. . . It’s not because the little girl looks good..."

"A g-ghost's memories are incomplete. They can only remember what they want. It would be nice if they can remember the numbers." A-Yan suddenly opened his mouth, his eyes sharply focused towards Lin Yan. Lin Yan's face grew hot, and he hurriedly lowered his head to cover it up. He explained to him that he was searching for people, why did his mind take such a strange turn. . .

That being said, why did he always get distracted by a dead person? This isn't going to work, no. Lin Yan secretly squeezed his fist.

Yin Zhou saw that the two of them were acting strangely. He crossed his hands behind his head and looked around in the corridor. When he saw the computer in front of the nurse on duty at the staircase, his eyes suddenly lit up, and he whistled frivolously: "Look, dude. Time for some fun."

With Lin Yan's girl-pleasing good looks and Yin Zhou's series of honeyed compliments, the three stooges quickly got their hands on the nurse's sister's computer. Yin Zhou stared at the screen intently. His fingers flew across the keyboard and the mouse clicked rapidly. After 15 minutes, the corners of his mouth stretched upward. His whole body suddenly leaned back in the swivel chair. He squinted his eyes and exclaimed: "Done. Turns out the info comes from this hospital. Makes it much more convenient not having to check other systems."

Lin Yan leaned in front of the computer, and the homepage showed: "351004, Zhou Jintian, male, 11 years old, died on May 11. Cause of death: internal organ rupture causing extensive abdominal hemorrhaging." A scanned copy of the body claim form was attached below. In the lower right corner where the family members signed, the family name was written in two large characters: "Zhou Mo" with a small red seal next to it.

"From the deceased's information from the database, this line of numbers is the bed number from the morgue." Yin Zhou touched his head: "This ghost is a child. No wonder he's standing by the window all the time, waiting for his father to pick him up from school."

Lin Yan took a picture of the page with his phone. He smiled and pushed the back of Yin Zhou's head: "Good job."

At the spicy and sour noodle shop across from the hospital.

Lin Yan always disliked eating near hospitals. He always feels that there were grieving patients’ families and infectious bacteria floating everywhere, but these spicy and sour noodles were particularly famous. Lin Yan drove the car for a while, and after a lengthy internal struggle, he turned back. Lin Yan scooped a spoonful of spicy soup and was satisfied that a delicious dinner was definitely worth it.

The little Daoist priest left for a shift in the restaurant where he worked. Yin Zhou stayed in the hospital to see the patient and verify the information. Lin Yan sat alone at the snack bar, a greasy orange plastic table with two bowls of spicy and sour noodles in front of him. One was placed in front of him, and the other was pushed to the opposite side. The "person" only he could see was sitting in the opposite chair with his face turned sideways in a daze. It seems that the ghost really didn't need to eat. Lin Yan sighed and asked in a low voice: "You don't eat or sleep, you follow me every day, aren't you tired?"

Xiao Yu ignored him. His slender fingers propped up his chin, and the outline of his side face looked very beautiful in the dimming daylight. The table was near the window, and the warm yellow halo of the street lamp brushed over the bridge of his nose. His skin looked as fine as porcelain. It felt like porcelain too, icy cold.

Things were still awkward.

"Excuse me, can I borrow the chair? We don't have enough." A childish male voice sounded and Lin Yan raised his head. A boy dressed as a high school student was holding the back of Xiao Yu's chair. He saw Lin Yan looked confused and pointed to the boys and girls chatting at a large table next door. The girls were wearing heavy makeup, the boys wearing ear studs, their school uniforms covered in black and blue pen doodles. There were so many people in the store that they were missing several chairs.

"Someone's using it." Lin Yan replied quietly.

"I know you've been sitting here for a while, no one's there." The boy was unyielding.

"If I say someone's there, someone's there, and if they aren't there now, they will be later." Lin Yan was a little impatient.

"Nutjob, it's just a chair, why so angry?" The boy muttered. Before leaving, he rolled his eyes at Lin Yan.

"Sorry." Lin Yan mumbled to the boy's back. He wasn't sure why. No one could see Xiao Yu, which always made him a little anxious. Lin Yan hesitated and for the first time took the initiative to reach out and touch Xiao Yu's statue-like fingers and whispered, "It's lonely, isn't it? Of all the people in the world, I'm the only one who can see you and I treat you badly."

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei #danmei novel #bl novel

9 notes · View notes

homebody-nobody · 3 years

Text

you wanna play with fire (stick and poke tattoo)

Jax did you actually write a whole nother fic?? Why yes, dear reader, I did. This is porn, blame @hvitstark and @aarchiess and the rest of the jiara gc for filling up the Sin Bin with inspiration every day. PLEASE interact with this post I work really hard on these fics and seeing them get like ~30 notes and then dying drains my soul. ------------------------ ao3 -------------------------

‘Come home on time or don’t bother coming home at all!’

Her mother’s words echo in her ears as Kiara stomps away from the house in the late-summer heat. Tears well and sting in her eyes and she wipes them away, refusing to let them fall. She doesn’t understand why her parents don’t get it. Her dad grew up in the Cut. Her mom fell in love there, had Kie there, got married there. She belongs there, so much more than on Figure Eight or anywhere else in kooklandia. There’s an honesty to the Cut that evaporates the closer you get to the country clubs and McMansions on the other side of the island. Her heart feels open there, loved and loving. What happened, to make her parents forget all that? Is money really that important, that corrupting and all-consuming, that they would forget what loyalty feels like? What family is?

JJ’s sitting on the porch when she gets to the Chateau, a paperback folded in half in his left hand and a soda dangling from his right. He stands up when he sees her. “Hey,” he says. He’s wearing one of his absurd cutoffs, cargo shorts slung low and no shoes. There’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear and his hair is a ruffled mess, like he’s had his hands in it, thinking too hard. He looks like some ridiculous parody of a vagabond, every bad boy the after-school specials always warned her about.

Taking a deep breath, she nods to the book in his hand. “I didn’t know you could read,” she says. It’s easier to make fun then show the way her heart opens and bleeds at the sight of him.

He smiles, lopsided and quiet. “Good to see you, too.”

She mounts the stairs to the porch without asking, even though with every step she takes closer to him, she’s less sure of how to act. They haven’t talked since the night John B died, since the last time she was here. They had sex, the night the Phantom went down. It was fast and messy and a little awkward, because she was still Kie and he was still JJ, and fucking your best friend for the first time is never easy, now matter how long you’ve been waiting to do it.

It’s barely been a week, but it feels like longer, and since she got home that next morning, her parents have been tiptoeing around her, waiting for something to break. It was the simplest thing, really, Kie wondering aloud about JJ, about how he was doing and how she might help him pay off his restitution. (Now that Plan A has spiraled down to Plan L and that failed, besides.) It was her mother and her thinly-veiled scoff, the way it tugged at Kie like calloused skin on fresh sheets. It was Kie mentioning dipping into her college fund to help him, and her parents promptly flying off the handle.

And then, the threat of boarding school, of taking her away from everything she knows and everything she loves, shutting her up in the mountains like some hysterical family member in a victorian asylum, sending her to some institution claiming to be a high school but is basically a finishing school prepping spoiled debutantes for husband-hunting at the ivies. She won’t be one of those girls.

JJ greets her with the usual handshake, and when he goes to sit back down, she grabs at his fingers before she loses the courage, because she doesn’t want to think about any of it anymore, not John B or Sarah, not boarding school, not the tenuous future her parents are planning for her and how little she wants it. He stops, frozen, and every one of her senses is trained on the minimal brush of skin, the tension in his back. She wants her hands on him, her nails dragging down his arms, the taste of his sweat and the burn of his gaze. She wants to be lost in him, because touching JJ switches everything else off. He’s like a magnet for her attention, everything blurring until it’s just his mouth and his hands and his --

“Kie,” he says, a warning in his usually jovial voice. His gaze is locked on her hand, her slender fingers tangled in his, gentle things, held between strength and violence. “You said --”

“I know --” she says, pausing for half a second, surprised by her tone and the immediacy of her response. How quickly she wants to forget the lies she told herself about being able to stay away from him, after knowing what his tongue feels like on her clit and the way he fits perfectly inside her, like they were meant to come together. “What I said.” She’s looking at their linked hands as well, but she’s imagining his between her legs, wants to pull him forward and put it there, just to stop feeling so fucking human, because he makes her feel celestial, instead.

“So?” he asks, licking his lips, his breath picking up like he can read her mind, see her the way she wants to be, naked and underneath him.

“So maybe,” she says, her heartbeat rising in her own throat, taking half a step toward him, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes betray him, flicking up to her face and following the motion. She looks up at him, and the second her brown eyes land on his, he’s done resisting, done even considering it. He melts, when she looks at him like that, so grateful for it, after waiting so many years convinced it wouldn’t ever happen. “I changed my mind.”

The air hangs heavy and charged as JJ’s rational side, weak to begin with and driven deep with years of half-thought-out decisions and anticipated-yet-ignored consequences, scrambles to pull him out of her orbit, to get him to let go and stop her from burning up in the periphery of his constant firestorm. But her eyes are on his, and she’s touching him, and she’s asking, and the moon could fall without him noticing, right now.

She pulls, and he follows, and they’re crashing into each other, a kiss that starves before it is even born. Paint flakes and dust fill the air when she slams back against the side of the house, her arms looped around JJ’s neck, one of his tight around her waist, the other braced on the siding, fist clenched, forearm taught. The second he touches her, the world stops spinning, or maybe just they do, because she’s dizzy and soaring under his mouth, chest to chest and sharing breath between teeth and lips and tongues. Victory rises in her chest, pride and anticipation simmering just below the beautiful, vacant hunger that comes from JJ kissing her like this, and it’s that pride that bruises, just a little, when he pulls away.

“You can’t just jump me when you’re upset,” he says, but it’s into her neck, practically a growl as his hand flexes against the small of her back, gathering up her shirt, his fingernails just grazing her skin.

“Can’t I?” she answers, canting her hips up a fraction, pushing against him, demanding his return to ravishing her indecently.

“Fuck, Kie --” he says, and he’s nipping at her neck in bursts, like he knows they should be talking about this, but he can’t help but touch her, overwhelmed with the need to taste her skin and leave her wanting.

“Fine,” she says, sliding her forearm against his shoulder until her hand buries itself in his hair, pulling him back up and kissing him fiercely. “We’ll talk about it,” she sighs, before diving back in for another hard, demanding kiss. And then, “After.”

“Yeah, okay,” JJ relents, pushing off the side of the house and dragging her toward the front door. It’s not a choice but a capitulation, a giving in to the unstoppable force that is Kiara tugging at his soul. Because he’d do anything for her, anything to her that she asks, no matter what he tells himself. He slides his teeth over her bottom lip and pulls away, panting. “After.” They slam through the screen door, stumbling over a broken ankle tether and the trash JJ had been meaning to take out, not even bothering with the farce of trying to make it to the bedroom. Her calves slam into the pullout and she topples backwards, taking her with him.

Kissing JJ is a little like waiting out a hurricane and finally hitting the eye. Thrilling and terrifying, surrounded by power and strength, destruction and damage, but finding peace and respite, and a promise, a hint of the sun. Once he has her underneath him, he slows down, settling his weight between her legs, keeping himself propped on his elbows while he kisses her, solid and hard in his intent. It’s torture, him dancing above her, licking into her mouth only to back off and press kisses across her face, her jaw, and down her neck, sucking damning, claiming marks before scraping his teeth over her ear with the slightest pressure, teasing her, pulling obscene noises from her throat and driving her insane. She pushes her hips up again, and he responds with a deep, heavy roll of his, and she can feel his cock, hot and already half-hard, through the layers of fabric between them.

She wants to feel it, in her hand, her mouth, pressing torturously, deliciously inside her, and he’s still fully clothed and taking way too much damn time. Surging up against him, she flips the two of them over, dangerously close to the edge, and straddles his hips, dragging her hands down his chest. Tossing her hair out of her face and pulling it all to one side, she risks glancing down at him, afraid of the vulnerable drop of her stomach every time she meets his eyes. JJ’s an eclipse in totality, pupils blown wide, shining underneath her, beaming in her shadow. His lips are slightly parted, red and wet, hair disheveled, hands coming down to slide up her thighs, and the image is so hot, so perfect, her chest aches as her cunt throbs for him, a dangerous, terrifying combination. She takes off her shirt.

The sigh he lets out is entirely involuntary, reveling in the warmth and the weight of her, in awe of the smooth plains of exposed skin and the soft curves of her body. She leans down to kiss it out of his mouth, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head, the other sliding around the back of her arm as she holds face. It’s too gentle, too kind and slow, so she sinks her teeth into his lower lip until he groans and tightens her fist in his hair, pulling her with him as she straightens. His hands frame her hips as she grinds down on him, and he ducks his head to lay kisses across her collarbones, his hands sliding up her sides, electric on her bare skin. Letting her head fall back, she takes in the feeling of his lips on her chest, his thumbs tucking under the band of her bra. One stays to brush back and forth over the side of her breast while the other reaches around and pinches apart the clasp in an expert move. Her stomach drops at the thought of JJ doing this with other girls.

Taking her hands from his hair to cup his jaw, she redirects his attention back to her lips as her bra slides down her arms and her nipples pebble in the cool air. She holds on just a little too long, presses into him closed-mouth and soft, and he melts under her touch, his hands framing her ribs, her hair falling around them in a peach-scented curtain. When he initiates moments like this, she runs from them, too scared of what she might feel if she falls in like she’s falling now, heart pounding, her thumbs skating over his cheekbones. He leans up into her touch, one of his arms dropping to her waist and pulling her in closer to him, holding her tight. She pulls away from the kiss, keeping her forehead pressed to his.

“Kie,” he sighs. Her breath hitches at the sound of her name from his mouth, like it almost always does, except he’s never close enough to notice. The silence that follows holds too much for the small space it occupies, and while she has no idea what he’s scared of saying, it almost falls from his lips anyway. Before he can make too much of an idiot out of himself, she pulls her arms back out of the straps of her bra, reaching between them to toss it to the side. As she does, she keeps his eyes on his, the smallest pockets of relief opening as his gaze drops to her tits, and then the heat in her stomach picking up again as he licks his lips. He ducks his head again, taking one of her nipples into his mouth like a sacrament, like she’s holy, closing his eyes and moaning, deep and satisfied at the taste of her skin. It goes straight to her cunt, and she feels wetness gathering there, even more than before.

This, they’ve already done. There’s still fading bruises across her chest from the first night they spent together, when he ate her out til she screamed and then fucked her senseless, and while that seems to be the course of action he’s aiming for here, she has other ideas. She slides her hands back into JJ’s hair -- God, she could spend hours playing with JJ’s hair -- and tightens her grip, her blunt nails scraping gently over his scalp. In return, he teases his teeth over her nipple, and when she arches and gasps at the motion, tries to flip himself back on top.

But Kiara has a goal, and she tightens her thighs around his hips, flattening her hands on his chest and pushing back, shaking her head playfully. He raises his eyebrows and flashes her half a smile, as if to say ‘oh, really?’, but settles his hands on her hips and lets her take charge. Her first order of business is getting him just as naked as she is; he holds up his arms obediently as she tugs his shirt off of him, and this is different now, than when it started. They’re taking their time with each other, grateful to drop the guise of desperation and explore every secret spot and inch of forbidden skin. It should scare the shit out of her, and it sort of does, but it’s also… kinda fun. JJ makes this shy vulnerability so easy to sink into, knowing that any teasing has no real heat behind it, that he’ll be gentle and kind and listen to what she wants and what she likes. Yes, the bar is on the floor, but this boy is her best friend for a reason, this loving, crazy dumbass, that would set himself on fire to keep her warm. And that trust, those years of rapport and familiarity, make moments like these so much more comfortable, easier with a net underneath the thrill of flying high, trading touch for pleasure and knowing that he’ll be there to catch her on the comedown.

She leans down and kisses him, soft at first and then deeper, licking into his mouth and rolling her hips down onto him, stretching her arms above his head and dragging her tits up his bare torso, smiling against his lips at the sound he makes. Ducking her head against his neck, she leaves her own trail of marks and then shifts her weight off of him to the side so she can reach down and pop the fly of his shorts open with one hand. He hisses in a sharp inhale when she reaches her hand between the layers of clothing and palms him over his underwear, giving him a second of satisfying contact before backing off, teasing him with her fingertips. He rolls onto his side, angling himself over her, kissing her hungrily.

“Fucking hell, Kie,” he says, tucking his face into the side of her neck. “You got no fucking right to feel that good.” He’s warm and solid against her chest, hot and hard under her fingers, and something opens in her chest as he kisses her again, slow and sensual but not rushing, not pushing for things to go further or asking for anything she’s not willing to give. She pushes his underwear down as best she can, and he shudders as bare skin meets. The feeling of his cock in her hand sets her skin alight as he muffles moans in her neck, and she twists her hand over the head of it, spreading the wetness she finds there over the shaft.

JJ surrenders to her, relaxing against her side as she works her hand over him, leaning into her, muttering half-formed praise into her skin like a prayer. She bites down a smile at the words, trying to hide how much she enjoys having him so vulnerable under her touch, how hot she gets listening to him react, feeling the soft skin over hard muscle. Kissing him firmly, she pushes him onto his back, leaning over him as she strokes his cock, one of his arms coming up to hold her, the other hand pushing into her hair. She hadn’t had time to do this the first night they were together, too focused on her own desperate need to get lost in him, so she takes her time working her way down his bare torso, sinking her teeth into his chest, leaving red and purple marks in her wake.

He stutters on an inhale when he realizes what she’s doing, and when she curls her hands in the waistband of both shorts and boxers, concern fills his dear, blue eyes. “You don’t have to --” he breathes, caught between concern for her and the deep, furious want pulsing in his blood. “Just because I --”

Kiara licks her lips, and JJ watches the movement, powerless not to. “I want to,” she says, realizing the truth of it as she says it, and the resulting look on JJ’s face puts butterflies in her stomach. (Which, like, she really doesn’t have time to think about right now.) So, in answer, she pulls his pants and underwear down and off, tossing them to the side and settling herself between his legs. It’s a little intimidating, JJ spread out naked before her, his cock eagerly awaiting her attention. She knew it was big, of course. After last time, the rumors had been confirmed true; JJ Maybank was excellently skilled with both hands and mouth, in addition to being ridiculously well-hung. It isn’t fair, really. But it’s one thing when he’s fucking her, and another when she’s face to face with it.

He senses her hesitation and reaches down, brushing his fingers over her face in gentle reverence, and the touch shocks something inside her she’s not ready to confront. Instinctively, she pulls away, and, when concern colors his storm-sky eyes, she smiles, and ties up her hair. JJ’s breath catches in his chest as the sight, and it bolsters her confidence. She leans forward to kiss him one more time, twisting her hand over the head of his cock, solid and determined, and before he can recover, she ducks her head and takes him into her mouth.

He grasps at the sheets as she swirls her tongue curiously around the tip, letting spit and precum drip down the shaft, spreading it towards the base with her hand. “Fuck, yes,” he sighs, his eyes falling closed, his head dropping to the pillow. It’s satisfying, and triumphant, and hot, to see him so at her mercy, helpless and prone in the oldest kind of worship. After a while of torturous teasing, she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth, pressing her thumb into her palm to push down her gag reflex -- a trick Sarah told her about that she’s never needed til him. He keens, and the noise has her pushing her hips against the mattress, rocking into the seam of her shorts. Bobbing her head, experimenting with pace and angle, she flicks her tongue smartly against the underside of the tip of his cock, and the moan that follows that move is very interesting indeed. She tries it a few more times until he’s gasping out a warning, and she draws back until her lips just wrap around the head, swallowing neatly as he chokes out her name.

She comes up smiling, and he half sits up, reaching for her, sated and grasping. He kisses her soundly, pulling her back down next to him, one hand in her hair, one arm around her waist, his favorite way to hold her, it seems. Settling her on her back, his tongue meets hers and he groans at the taste of himself. “You,” he says, pulling back to press kisses down her neck. She can’t keep in the happy, smug giggle that works its way out of her chest. “Are so fucking hot.”

“Not too bad yourself,” she laughs as he tucks his face between her tits, the last word followed by a sharp gasp as he wraps his lips around a nipple, like he can’t help but have his mouth on her, can’t help but taste her skin and send her heart racing.

“I knew you were looking,” he says, propping his chin on her sternum and looking up at her with a shit-eating grin, mischief and post-orgasm glow sparkling in his stupid, stupid blue eyes. He’s been paying attention to her, thinking about this. The thought flips something over in her chest, and she shoves his head playfully.

“Shut up,” she says, trying to keep her voice light. She picks her hips up, trying to keep him focused on the event at hand. Yeah, JJ’s easily distracted, but she’s half-naked in front of him, She kinda hoped that would avoid unnecessary conversation. “And get back to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, half-kidding -- but his eyes darken just a shade too far to be all tease. (Which, she thinks to herself, is certainly something to be investigated.) He devotes his full attention back to her chest, licking and sucking and biting at her nipples, loving the soft, small noises she makes under his touch. Her tits aren’t usually so sensitive, but JJ knows what the fuck he’s doing, and it’s unfair how much he’s able to work her up with her pants still on. Blowing him was already incredibly hot, and, when his hand finally slides into her underwear, he curses at the wetness he finds between her legs. “Holy hell, Kie,” he sighs.

“Maybe a little more hell,” she says, gripping his arm as his finger drags slowly up her slit, “and a little less holy?” She bites her lip as he teases her, dipping in and out of her folds, tracing his fingers over the lips of her cunt, because he wants her to keep making those godforsaken sounds. Because he can.

“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a smart mouth?” he asks, raising his head to suck a mark directly under her ear, smiling against her skin at the resulting gasp.

“Maybe, ah --” she cries, when his careful fingers find her clit and his calloused fingertips explore the sensitive area, “once or twice.”

This is… way more talking than last time. Last time was desperate and grief-stricken and needy, a request for heedless escape in the wake of the unthinkable. Now -- it’s still a distraction, but there were other courses of action available when she showed up at the Chateau as the sun started to sit low in the afternoon sky. She didn’t have to jump him. He didn’t have to let her. JJ kisses her, deep and filthy, putting himself back in charge, angling his body over hers as she presses back into the thin mattress, arcing into his touch, one hand braced on his (very nice) bicep, the other tangled in his messy, golden hair.

He focuses on her clit, spreading the wetness up from her entrance and toying with different pressure and motions, paying attention to what she likes, and she directs him with the sounds she makes, every small moan a ‘yes, please, more of that.’ He’s the most responsive partner she’s ever had, focused on her and her only, his main purpose to make her feel good, not work her up just to fuck or speed past foreplay to move to something more. It makes it better, and when he finally slides a finger into her, he gasps, too, because it’s a privilege for him to feel her, hot and wet and waiting.

“Oh, god,” she whines, as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of her, his thumb on her clit.

“God’s a little formal,” he says, lifting his head to look at her, his expression teasing even as kindness and something else big and unwanted settles in his eyes. “You can stick with JJ.” She tries to smack his arm for that, but ends up sinking her nails into his skin as he slides another finger inside of her a little too easily. He goes slowly, curling his fingers up into her g-spot with every stroke, kissing her lazily and alternating to her neck when she can’t help but gasp at his touch.

It’s torture, the way he takes his time, and after a while she’s begging. “Fuck me, JJ,” she pleads. “God, fuck me, please,” and his spent cock twitches against her leg because fuck if that isn’t something he’s been waiting to hear. His hand speeds up as he decides his next move. When he takes his hands out of her pants she lets out a sound she’d rather he didn’t remember, but based on the way that he smiles against her skin, he won’t be doing that any time soon. He doesn’t even have time to pause at her waistband as he kisses down her body, because she’s very enthusiastically supporting what’s about to happen next, shoving both shorts and underwear down.

He chuckles and tugs them off, tossing them somewhere that’s future Kie’s problem, and heat rises in him again as she spreads her legs for him. Settling on his stomach, he hooks his arms under her thighs, miles of bare skin pressing together with a quiet whisper of faith. She runs her fingers through his hair as he kisses up her legs, taking his time, reveling in the sight and the smell of her. Foolish smiles meet in shy glances and chuckles that are half breath and half disbelief. JJ radiates warmth from his bare skin, broad and powerful below her, and she hooks a leg over his shoulder, sliding her foot up his back and biting her lip as he raises his eyebrows in response, drawing closer to her hot, aching center.

He starts lightly, dragging the tip of his tongue up her slit, just to taste the wetness there, to make her squirm and curse and ask for more. It’s hard to resist the way she begs for him, and he sets in with a purpose, flicking his tongue over her clit and fitting two fingers inside of her, mouth and hands working with a skilled harmony. She clutches at his hair, not afraid to drag her fingernails over his scalp, vocal and unapologetic in how much she’s enjoying this, how much she wants him. When he finds a combination of hooking his fingers against her g-spot and brushing the tip of his tongue over her clit, her legs clamp around his head as she begins to climb, a deep pull starting low in her stomach.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, “fucking hell, JJ -- God, just like that, don’t fucking stop. Please don’t fucking stop.” He doesn’t, and the sound that comes out of her as she crashes over the edge is loud and guttural and possibly the hottest thing that’s ever fucking happened to him. She cums against his mouth furiously, her stomach flexing and her legs shaking, and he’s a little proud of himself, honestly, as he brings her down gently, sliding his fingers out of her, soothing her with long strokes of his tongue. When her breathing finally slows, he presses kisses over her thighs and then her stomach as he rises back up to meet her.

She kisses him, awestruck and grateful, not minding her own taste as she pulls him down against her, wanting as much bare skin to be touching as possible. She tucks his hair behind his ears and strokes her thumb over his jaw before he falls on his side next to her, staring, tracing his hand up her side in veneration and wonder. It’s hard, the weight of his gaze, so she closes her eyes, drops her forehead against his. “Literally how,” she sighs, and laughs, one arm tucked under his neck and hooked around his shoulders, the other draped over his trim waist.

“It’s not hard,” he promises (falsely), cheshire grin in full force. “Just paying attention.” He kisses her before she has a chance to respond, mostly gentle but with a sense he’s holding back a little, inviting her to take the next step forward. She deliberates for a moment as she sucks on his lower lip, scraping her teeth gently, cataloguing every noise he makes and what move precedes it, learning him. She could go home, now. She’s been sufficiently distracted. She feels a little better, like maybe she can talk to her parents without screaming her head off or bursting into tears. But the pull of the boy next to her is strong and tempting, miles of tan skin with rippling muscle shifting underneath.

The secret is, she always wants to touch JJ. Something about him is magnetic, like a gravitational field she can’t resist. Whenever they’re in the van or on the Pogue or even just chilling on the couch, she finds herself shifting closer. She’s always stepping just behind his shoulder, would prop her chin there -- if she didn’t know that he would freeze up and question the physical contact. Sometimes, she feels jealousy ache in her stomach at his casual physicality with Pope and John B, always slinging his arm around their shoulders or play-fighting or latching onto them, just to be annoying. He’s still physical with her -- she doesn’t think he knows how not to be -- but it’s different, restrained, and sometimes she sees him half-move, reaching out instinctually, only to second guess himself and let his hands fall.

She shifts into him, pressing herself as close as she can, appreciating the gasp he lets out at the press of her bare chest against his, her leg sliding against his dick, already half-hard again. They kiss for a while, and it would be lazy and slow, if they could let themselves relax; but JJ’s still biting something down, and Kie starts to get frustrated trying to draw it out. Finally, tired of waiting, she licks into his mouth with a sudden push, and he’s not surprised, but annoyingly expectant, glad his baiting has finally worked. There’s a moment of tension and pushing as they silently argue who’s going to be on top, and Kie wins when she reaches down and wraps her hand around his cock.

He falls back, and she climbs on top of him, biting down a wide grin of her own. She sits back on her heels, sticking out her chest a little, stroking him slowly, reveling in the way he fights to control his expression. He starts at her tits, palming them with work-roughened hands, before sliding his palms down her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, brushing over her ass, running down her thighs and back up. She lets her head fall back, drinking in his touch, closing her eyes so she doesn’t have to meet his. She can feel him staring, though, unrelenting and hungry, merciless in the way he worships her. She can’t look at him, can’t take the kind of want and lust seething in his eyes, so settles herself over his cock, sliding her cunt up and down his shaft, her hands braced on his chest, his hands gripping her hips, fingertips sinking into her skin.

Part of her wants him to leave bruises, even though she knows he’s not holding her roughly enough for that. He’s being so kind, so soft and respectful, everything she never thought he would be in a situation like this. She loves the tease, the slow build, but she wants him now, viscerally so, rocking her hips over him, hearing him shudder and moan, feeling him clutch at her. She wants him to beg for her, keen her name like she did his. Leaning down to kiss him, she pushes herself all the way up his cock, the tip just brushing her entrance, and he moans, long and filthy. “God,” he gasps, barely coherent. “Fuck, Kiara, please.”

She smiles at that, sitting up, standing on her knees and taking him in her hand. They’d talked about being clean, about her IUD, the first night, and while she’s grateful she doesn’t have to have the same conversation again, it sets an unnerving precedent. The first time was supposed to be the last time. And now there’s today, and she’s not certain she wants to give him up, yet. She doesn’t know what that means, doesn’t know what he’s feeling or what anything between them would look like in a world so tempest-tossed and half-destroyed. But this -- this part will always be easy.

Taking him inside her feels like a prayer. She goes slowly, sinking down, giving herself time to adjust to his size, his hands flexing on her hips. He fills her perfectly, and she’s never believed the bullshit about soulmates or needing someone else to be complete, but with JJ’s cock inside her, his hips, narrow and strong between her legs, she feels a hell of a lot closer to whole. She starts to move, slow and deep, squeezing him on the way up, bottoming out on the way down. He curses and clenches his teeth, wound so tight she can see it, and she wants him to snap, to flip them in a single move and fuck her into the mattress.

He watches her, lets her set the rhythm, thrusting up as she pushes down, but the movement is still tight and controlled. She knows this boy inside and out, knows that he’s holding back for her, afraid of hurting her, of losing her trust or making her feel objectified or powerless. She knows he wants to be careful, to not fuck this up -- because this is a this, now, neither of them have any say in that anymore -- but she also wants his raw power, his strength and abandon, and maybe that’s what drives the next words to fall from her mouth. “Come on, JJ,” she groans impatiently, raking her fingernails down his chest. “Aren’t you gonna take what’s yours?” He’s confused for exactly half a second before she shifts her weight pointedly to the empty space to their left, and before she even registers that he’s moving, she’s on her back, her hands pinned above her head, JJ’s hips slamming obscenely into her own. It’s intense and desperate and fast, and she tugs one of her hands free, bringing it down to her clit to rub hard circles there in pace with his wild hips, knowing he won’t last long like this and chasing that cherished high, just behind him.

He comes before she does on a sharp, animalistic cry, tensing above her and filling her with warmth. She doesn’t have time to be disappointed, because he swears, pulls out, and replaces his cock immediately with his fingers. His cum makes it easy to fit three fingers inside her at once, dextrous and skilled, focused on making her orgasm just as good as his. It doesn’t take long until she’s grabbing at his shoulder, panting and moaning and almost crying, he feels so good, and when he bats aside the hand on her clit in favor of ducking between her legs and replacing it with his mouth, she screams, riding his face and his hand as wave upon wave crashes over her, feet pushing her hips off the pullout, legs quivering and stomach tense. He stays with her, merciless, flicking his tongue across her clit over and over again, until she has to shove his head away with trembling hands, collapsing into the bed in holy, sated exhaustion.

It takes her a second to open her eyes, and when she does, he’s back up next to her, pushing the three fingers into his mouth to suck them clean. “You’re disgusting,” she says, but she’s still panting, out of breath while her chest heaves, and it carries little heat.

He brushes gentle fingers over her temple, tucking away a stray curl. “But we taste so good together,” he teases, his breath fanning across her face as he leans down to kiss her. Their mouths move in lazy harmony, finally at ease, and, of course, he’s right. “C’mon,” he says, tucking his face against her neck, his floppy blond hair falling into her eyes. “Shower?”

“Mmmm,” she hums, thinking she might be anchored to the bed at the base of her spine. “Maybe in a sec.” Honestly, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to stand, but she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing that. He chuckles, knowing exactly what he’s done, and shoves himself up as she curses his never-ending, boundless energy. He brings her water and some paper towels to clean herself up, and, when he sees her sitting up, searching for her underwear, digs in the duffel on the armchair and tosses her a pair of boxers.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “What?” he protests, tugging underwear and a pair of basketball shorts up over his ass. (Which she’s a little disappointed to see disappear beneath layers of fabric once more). “They’re clean.” She puts them on without standing up before rolling over to her stomach and stretching her arms out, tucking them underneath her head. Sweat cools on heated skin as golden hour stretches across the Chateau’s living room, and she wants to live in this moment forever.

JJ lowers himself onto her back, scattering kisses across her shoulders, and she giggles and turns underneath him until they’re pressed chest-to-chest, his weight braced on his elbows on either side of her head. She looks at him, now, her hair a mess and eyes shining, skin still heated from his touch. He leans down to kiss her, and she lets him, even though this is dangerous territory, blurring hazy lines between friends and friends-with-benefits and lovers and ‘together’ and all the other things they could call themselves. The kiss is slow and sweet, and when he pulls back it’s to kiss her cheeks, her closed eyes, her nose. It’s silly and soft and so incorrect to the image of JJ she’s always had in her mind, that she laughs under his attention.

“What?” he asks, laughing with her, dive-bombing her with kisses to her face and neck, her arms coming up around his neck, her fingers in his hair.

“You’re so dumb,” she says, still laughing as she shoves him off. He doesn’t go far, just crashes down next to her, their legs still tangled, one arm tucked back under his head, the other resting on the curve of her waist. Her hands trace his arms, shoulders, chest, mapping them like territory she intends to settle.

“Yeah, but --” he says, and then stops, because the rest of that sentence carries a different weight now. The ‘you still love me’ hangs in the air anyway, and it means something else than it did the last time he tossed it out -- after leaving her stranded on the marsh with Sarah Cameron, a day that feels like years ago.

She curls her hands into fists on his chest before spreading them out again, breaking eye contact and biting her bottom lip. “Yeah,” she sighs. Because she does, even if she can’t define how anymore.

“So you gonna tell me why you came here?” he asks, when the moment stretches on into too many seconds and the weight of it threatens to crush them both.

Kie sighs, heavy and tired, as the memory of earlier that day comes crashing back down, chasing out the golden afternoon and pulling her back to all of the guilt and anger and frustration she’d asked JJ to distract her from. “Do I have to?” she asks, still avoiding his eyes, too tired to dodge it any more carefully than that.

“C’mon, Kie,” he urges, “you said you’d talk about it.” She hates him for a second, because isn’t this JJ’s whole thing? ‘Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies,’ right? ‘Deny, deny, deny’? There are a million things he’s said, just over this summer, that she could pull out on him right now. But also, she’s not him, and she likes to talk things out, has to, or else whatever it is that’s bothering her consumes every waking thought. Maybe he knows that. Maybe he’s just being a really good friend at a really bad time.

So she tells him, because she’s avoiding Pope and John B’s fucking dead or lost at sea or whatever the fuck he is, and so is Sarah. And even though Kiara would never have considered going to her before -- everything -- maybe she would now, if she had the chance. “My parents want to send me to boarding school,” she says, dropping it whole on his chest and hoping he can breathe under it.

“Oh,” he sighs, like this admission has shoved the word out of him. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything else, so she keeps going. “So I freaked out, and I left.” She keeps flexing her hands on his chest, keeping her eyes there even as they threaten to fill with tears. “And my mom --” she chokes, and he pulls her close, putting his lips on her forehead. “My mom said that if I didn’t --” she swallows, trying to keep it together, “that if I didn’t come home on time, not to --” she takes a controlled breath, willing the tears away. “Not to bother coming home at all.” It sounds silly, saying it to him, when she knows, now, what he’s been through. What his dad does to him and why he’s here, instead of his own house. It sounds petty and inconsequential and she’s never felt more like an ignorant kook in her life, so she sniffs, and takes her hands off him.

JJ chews on the information she’s given him, tracing his fingers down her arm, over the curve of her elbow and back up to her shoulder. “You’re still gonna go home, right?” He asks, uncertainty and maybe longing in his voice. She realizes, then, that of course she is. Her parents love her, even if they don’t know how to show it, don't understand what the Cut and its inhabitants (and one in particular) mean to her. Of course, she’s going to go home. Because JJ doesn’t get to. Because she still can.

If she’d had this conversation with anyone else, there would be stomping and cursing and yelling, indignant demands as to why her parents can’t understand her, why they can’t see how they suffocate her, and hold her down. But this is JJ, who doesn’t get to have problems like this, who doesn’t get to have parents that love him or watch him too closely. At least if Luke Maybank threatened to send JJ to boarding school, it would mean that he cared about JJ’s future. It would mean that he’d looked at his son, spoken to him, seen the anger and hurt and desperation to be seen. It would mean, at least, that he was paying attention.

“Yeah,” she says. She’s still scared, of being powerless to control what they want her to do with her life, of being seventeen and helpless. But she’s not going to say that out loud, not when JJ knows what that feels like on a level she can’t even comprehend. He feels like he should say more, and part of her wants him to, but JJ’s always been shit at comforting. This, his presence, is enough. His light touches, his lips pressed to her hairline -- it’s all he has to do. When she starts to nod off, she asks him to hand her her phone, and stumbles out to the porch to dig in her bag for it. She curls on her side, sends a text to her mom about being sorry and that she’ll be home in a few hours, and then sets an alarm for thirty minutes before curfew.

She’ll go home, but she’s going to spend as much time with him as she can. She still doesn’t think he should be alone, and she doesn’t want to be either. He fits himself in behind her, his chest pressed to her back, one arm under her neck, the other tight around her waist. They don’t talk. She doesn’t want to and he doesn’t know what he’d say. She’s exhausted and warm and JJ’s arms around her feel a little bit like armor, like when he’s holding her, the rest of the world can’t get in. Just before she falls asleep, he squeezes her tight, tucking his face into her neck.

“You aren’t going to boarding school,” he whispers. “I promise.” She feels his lips press against her skin. She wants to turn in his arms, kiss him slow and sweet and kind, the way he deserves to be loved. But sleep tugs at her, unrelenting. Just before she slips under the waves, she hears him whisper one more thing.

“I won’t let them take you away from me.”

#jiara #outer banks #jj/kiara #kiara/jj #jj x kiara #kiara x jj #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jiara fic #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #smut #jiara smut #my stuff #my writing

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obxhoe · 4 years

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Anon request//JJ x reader

I accidentally deleted the anon request but it was about Rafe and reader being in an unhealthy relationship and JJ helps/saves her.

a/n: i tried my best with this and i hope this is okay!!! thank you for requesting! Sorry this is so late and that i have been lacking with content, work has been insane and i’m slowly getting back on track. I have a few things in progress. I tried to make this story as positive as it could be, having been in an abusive relationship myself and I didn’t wanna trigger anyone or anything. Soooo yeah enjoy!

word count: around 2,400

Warnings: drugs, abusive/unhealthy relationship (i tried to leave out graphic content, just a lot of yelling), swearing

He was high. Again. This had become the new normal, Rafe getting high out of his fucking mind almost every night. And it was usually the only time he was somewhat nice to you. It started out when he went from smoking with you or his friends to him smoking alone, multiple times, every day. Then came cocaine. One night at a party you two decided to try it. The rush was too much for you, a whiplash of sensations hitting you all at once and you decided to stick to weed from that moment on. Rafe on the other hand fell in love with it and well, shit hit the fan. Fast. It was exhausting having to deal with his constant mood swings.

Last night was bad. He says he would never physically hurt you, but he’s gotten close to it before and it terrifies you. He grabbed your arm last night when you were trying to leave and this morning the bruise was already apparent. It was right above your wrist so it was going to be hard to hide, the humidity was insane and long sleeves did not seem like the move. But, you put on a long sleeve shirt anyway in an effort to hide it from your friends.

You arrive at the chateau, lugging your surfboard up the steps and letting out a huff. Beads of sweat were already forming at your hairline. You drop the surfboard on the floor of the porch and head inside. The rest of the pogues were in the back, Kie reading, and the guys playing soccer.

“Why does it always feel like we live in the actual jungle. The humidity is so disgusting my clothes are literally sticking to my skin.” You complain as you plop down into a plastic lawn chair. Your friends turn and smile at you, happy you finally arrived. John B and JJ run over and tackle you to the ground while Pope stands there laughing so hard that there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes. This is where you are the happiest, not with Rafe. It’s a red flag, one of the many you have chosen to ignore.

“Okay okay hello to you too, now get off!” You squeal. They climb off of you and sit in a circle.

“We haven't seen you in like, what? A week? Where have you been?” Kie asks. Your stomach starts to churn, Rafe doesn’t like it when you hang out with the pogues. The past week you’ve been with him or working.

“I was working, a lot, all the time.” You hope they believe your excuse. The boys seemed to believe it but Kie wasn’t having it as she raised an eyebrow and you gave her a look as to say ‘not now, please’. She nods, but you know that the next time you two are alone, she’s going to confront you.

“Okay well I need water or something because I am dying” Kie gets up and you can tell she wants you to follow.

“I’ll come with you, do you guys want anything?” You ask the guys, trying to seem less suspicious. A chorus of ‘beers’ rang out and you nodded, following Kie inside.

“So spill. I know you haven’t been working all the time because I called your mom and she told me you’ve been spending all of your time with Rafe recently. Yes, we hate him but you don’t have to hide that from us.” You can see worry in her eyes. Subconsciously you roll up your long sleeves, obviously overheating and needing some relief.

“Look, I don’t know why I don’t tell you when I see him. I honestly don’t” That was a lie. “He’s just frustrating sometimes and I don’t want to bring anyone into the relationship drama” You reach for the fridge and Kie kicks the door shut and grabs your hand lightly.

“What’s this?” She asks in regards to the bruise Rafe left last night. Your stomach drops, your mouth goes dry and you don’t know what to say.

“I was walking Ace and he just pulled a little too tight when another dog walked by that’s all, no big deal” You try to laugh.

“Y/n,” Kie shakes her head, nervousness filling your stomach. “This is not from a dog leash. You and I both know that. This literally looks like a handprint, like someone grabbed you way too hard. And it looks fresh as if it happened within the last day.” She says, releasing your arm and you bring your hands to your head, grabbing at your hair. ‘Don’t cry, don’t cry’ you repeat to yourself silently. But it doesn’t work. You choke out a sob.

“He doesn’t mean it. I know he doesn’t. He just gets really angry sometimes. It was my fault for trying to leave so early” Tears now falling and your breath starting to get falter.

“What is going on? Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” JJ slips in from the hallway, eyes almost all black, fits clenched and face bright red. This was the last thing you needed right now.

“JJ-” you try to calm him down but he just cuts you off.

“No. Do not ‘JJ’ me. Let me see your arm” You shake your head. “Y/n, I said let me see your arm!” He’s shouting now, causing you to cry harder, your body shaking. You stick out your arm and he spins and slams his hand through the wall.

“JJ!” Kie screams.

“What the fuck” Pope yells as he and John B rush in, obviously hearing the screaming and slamming going on.

“I’m going to kill Rafe. I’m going to fucking kill him” JJ says in the darkest voice you’ve ever heard him use.

“JJ please. She’s been through enough for fucks sake. Look at her” Kie yells pointing in your direction. You’re now crumbled on the kitchen floor. He realizes what he’s done and rushes over and sits down next to you, immediately pulling you into his arms. He rubs your back and apologizes quietly for yelling, you know he just wants to protect you.

“Can someone please explain what is going on” John B runs his hand through his hair, flustered and confused.

Kie shakes her head no but JJ cuts in.

“Y/n has a bruise on her arm and she tried to play it off as if it was some accident her dog caused. It’s literally a handprint. Rafe fucking grabbed her, hard. He’s dead, I swear.” JJ keeps his tone surprisingly calm, remembering he scared you earlier.

“Ok well as much as I would love to kill Rafe,” Pope starts, “We would probably just be putting y/n in more danger.”

“Well we can’t sit and do nothing” JJ says.

“For once I agree with JJ” Kie states, “Not the killing part, obviously. But we can’t just do nothing. She’s obviously unsafe with him.”

“Well what do we do then?” John B asks, walking over as sliding down to sit on the other side of you.

“I have to talk to him” You state, and everyone starts to tell you how that’s a bad idea and it’s risky etc. etc. “Let me continue. Jesus people, I’m not that dumb. As I was saying. I have to talk to him, but not alone. JJ” you turn and look at the boy “You’re coming with me.”

The group shouts, protesting against your wishes.

“Are you crazy, he’s going to either kill Rafe or get himself killed!” Kie yells.

“I thought you were the other smart one, what kinda plan is this y/n?'' Pope says, shaking his head.

“JJ can’t control his temper when it comes to you, this is not a safe plan” John B says looking over to you.

“Oh since when did you become the expert on safe plans JB? I know this sounds dumb. But Rafe gets scared of JJ when he’s alone, no Topper, no Kelce. I’m going to see him when he’s alone and JJ will be outside waiting in the car. I’ll be on speaker phone the entire time and if shit starts to hit the fan, and I expect it to, JJ will come in and help me.” You say, everyone falling silent.

“Well” Kie starts, “That’s actually kinda genius. But can the three of us at least sit in my car down the road?”

“Yeah that’s probably best” You state as you stand up and look at your phone going to the “find my friends” app. “Well he’s home now, we should probably get going in case he leaves. I know for a fact he’s alone because Topper and Kelce are off golfing” You show them your phone with the boys’ various locations.

“I guess having an overprotective, psycho boyfriend has given us an advantage today” Pope mumbles, referencing the fact that Rafe and all of his friends have your location at all times. You nod, the nausea starting to build in your stomach as you get more and more anxious.

You and JJ hop into the van and Kie, Pope and John B get into her car. The plan was to have Kie follow you but pull off the road before the Cameron’s giant driveway. You text Rafe that you’re coming over and get the thumbs up emoji in return causing an eye roll. If you needed any validation that this was the right decision, that was it right there. No enthusiasm or anything. You pull into the driveway and have JJ sit in back so no one sees. It wasn’t weird arriving in John B’s van, you often borrowed it at times because you liked it more than your own car, who wouldn’t?

“I’ll run in there in a heartbeat if things start getting the tiniest bit heated” JJ says, taking your hand into his and squeezing. You nod at him, forming words right now is too difficult and you don’t want to risk crying beforehand. You rehearse the script you’ve been playing over and over in your head for the last hour.

You get out of the car and drag your feet to the front door, opening it up and walking in. You spot Wheezie walking down the stairs, running to give you a hug. Rose pops her head out of the kitchen to yell a quick ‘Hi!” and goes back to cooking dinner. Thanking the universe that you were not alone in this house with just Rafe, you head upstairs. You call JJ and put the phone back into your back pocket so he can hear everything. Knocking softly on the door, you hold your breath as he swings the door open.

“Hi” he mutters, going back to the video game he was playing. Your jaw drops. His room is a mess, his eyes glossed over and rose tinted, the smell of weed emanating off of every object scattered across the room.

“Uh hi.” You mumble back, staying close to the doorway so that this encounter would not happen behind closed doors. “Can we talk please?” your voice cracks, great start. He looks up at you confused but then starts to realize what's going on.

“You’re leaving me aren’t you?” He throws the controller onto the floor and stands up, making his way to you. You tense up.

“Rafe, I-” He cuts you off, face inches away from yours and fist colliding with the wall.

“You can’t leave me, Y/n. You can’t.” You see sadness more than anger in his eyes and tears start to fall from your own.

“I have to” you whisper.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll do better I promise.” He starts to cry. This is usually when you give into him, but not today.

“I can’t do this anymore, Rafe. I’m exhausted.” You run your hand through your hair and he spots the bruise on your arm. He freezes in place, hand coming up to his mouth.

“Did I, did I do that?” He says reaching for your arm, but you tense and pull away. “Fuck!” He screams. “I don’t remember that. I swear. I never meant to do anything to hurt you.” You hear footsteps coming. You turn. Wheezie. Your heart drops, she just heard everything. She looks hurt and mad and storms over to Rafe.

“You let her leave this house now!” She screams, tears threatening to fall. More footsteps. Rose and JJ. Dear God, this is the last thing you need. You look over to JJ and shake your head and the two of them stop before they make themselves noticeable.

“Wheezie stay out of this please” He says harshly.

“Rafe,” You break your silence. “I need to go. And I need you to let me go.” You say backing up. Thanking the universe that JJ was right there ready to run with you back to the car. Rafe tries to follow but Wheezie steps in between.

“Y/n please” He whispers and you just shake your head.

“Goodbye Rafe” You turn and walk towards JJ, grabbing his hand and running down the stairs. You want to wait to thank Rose and Wheezie, but you can’t risk staying in the house a minute longer so you remind yourself to text them after.

You get to the car and slide in the passenger seat as JJ hops in on the other side. All of a sudden a sob racks your body. You’re free. You’re finally fucking free. He just stares at you for a second before pulling out of the driveway and stopping next to Kie’s car. He gets out and opens the passenger door, climbing into the seat with you, pulling you on top of him. He holds you while you sob.

“You did it” He whispers into your hair, “I’m so proud of you”. He repeats his words over and over again and the three others step out of the car. He looks up and nods at them, confirming that everything was okay and you were finally free. Kie and Pope go back into her car as John B climbs into his and drives the three of you back to the chateau.

Once you arrive, you climb out of the car and strip down to your underwear and walk to the water. You submerge yourself for as long as you can and rise to the surface, taking the deepest breath you’ve been able to take in a long time. You can finally breathe, you’re free. The rest of the pogues join you in the water and you go to hug JJ. You hold each other for what feels like two minutes.

“Thank you JJ” You say against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, y/n” He squeezes you tighter. “Anything.”

#jj #JJ Imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj obx #jj outer banks #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #pope heyward #kie #kie carrera #john b #john b obx

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sachigram · 4 years

Text

Truss

((click here to read on ao3!!))

When Shizuo was little, before he ever lost his temper at his brother and lifted the fridge, he learned about soulmates in school along with everyone else. He didn't have much interest in it— no one in his class really did. All of them were too young to understand, and romance in general was far less interesting than running around outside and skinning their knees up. Shizuo thought to himself, if soulmates were really something, and lots of people had one, then he wouldn't have to work too hard or think too much about it. Everything would work itself out in the end.

As he got older and his fuse got shorter and shorter, he realized how difficult soulmates actually were to come by. Most people never met their soulmates— Shinra would often babble about the actual statistics, but he'd shut up when he saw Shizuo getting pissed off about it. Probability aside, even if someone was fated to be with Shizuo, he knew they likely would never approach him even if they found each other. People avoided Shizuo, and as he grew into himself, he started avoiding them, too.

And then. Then, there was Izaya.

The day he met Orihara Izaya, Shizuo immediately got a headache just from looking at the guy. Izaya was ethereal looking, a mischievous smirk planted on his pretty face, his hair dark and messy, yet falling in artful waves like it was styled that way. His eyes seemed blood red in the orange light from the sunset, and Shizuo hated him instantly. It really was as simple as that.

They fought; Izaya slashed at Shizuo with a knife, and then Shizuo got hit by a car while chasing after him. Things only got worse as they got older, and to this day, Shizuo can't even look at Izaya without being filled with the need to chase him down and bash his pretty face in. Nothing else really ever seems to matter.

After a particularly bad fight of theirs, Shizuo ends up at Shinra's, blood soaking through his shirt. He's pissed off about it for multiple reasons: Izaya slashed him up again, his white shirt is completely ruined, and Izaya got away. Shizuo is chewing a hole in his cheek when he flops onto Shinra's couch and lets the doctor patch him up.

“Oh, wow,” Shinra says, dabbing at Shizuo's wounds with a little cotton ball. “It looks like he carved his name in you.”

“What?” Shizuo barks, looking down. Sure enough, the characters of Izaya's first name are slashed into Shizuo's chest, right across the first scar Izaya ever gave him. “What the fuck!”

“I'm surprised you didn't notice until now,” Shinra says.

“He did it so fast! I was too busy trying to hit him. Fucking flea!”

“Relax, it's not deep. I doubt it'll scar. He probably did it just to make you even madder.” Shinra dabs something that stings over the gashes, and Shizuo grumbles low in his throat, imagines going to Izaya's apartment and yanking his head off.

“He really is the worst.” Celty's PDA says exactly what Shizuo is thinking, and Shizuo nods in agreement. Shinra sighs.

“He goes all out for Shizuo-kun, that's for sure.” He applies an ointment before he digs around in his kit for some bandages. “You know... The way you guys are with each other... Have you considered you might be soulmates?”

Shizuo waits a moment before responding, because he's pretty sure Shinra might be making a shitty joke, but when Shinra just keeps right on working, Shizuo flicks him on his forehead.

“Ow! What the heck was that for?!” Shinra yelps, looking at Shizuo with teary eyes. “I'm patching you up, and this is the thanks I get?!”

“Don't pair me up with that rotten louse! I get enough of that from the girl who hangs out with Kadota!” Shizuo huffs before reclining back into the couch. “Izaya's just an insane little fucker who hates me. There's no romance involved.”

“Well, yeah, but...” Shinra frowns, rubs his forehead, and goes back to bandaging Shizuo. “He's literally all you think about. That's a sign.”

“He makes my life hell! Of course I think about him! If I stop paying attention to him, he'll do something even worse.”

“Hmm.” Shinra doesn't seem particularly convinced. “Well, there's nothing I can do about it if neither of you will listen to reason. I'm only saying, if it is that you're mated, letting it go to waste because of some rivalry is childish.”

“Rivalry?! He— You!”

“Just keep it in mind. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing to ever happen around here.”

Shizuo begs to differ. The thought alone of being Izaya's soulmate is strange enough that Shizuo feels a little nauseous. They can't be near each other without fighting. Shizuo thinks being alone is much better than being matched with someone who clearly wants him dead.

***

Shizuo doesn't see or hear from Izaya a few weeks after their fight.

At first, he revels in the quiet. He goes to work, hangs out with Tom and Vorona, sees his brother. Shinra has mentioned Izaya is busy with work or something, and that's why things have been running so smoothly.

After the first week, Shizuo begins to feel uneasy.

Izaya being quiet can't be a good thing, right? He's got to be involved in...something. He'd never allow Shizuo a moment's peace, and if he's letting it happen now, it means something worse is around the corner. Shizuo feels antsy and jittery, waiting for something he doesn't know for sure will happen.

By the second week, Shizuo is physically ill. He tries to carry on as usual. He's never been one to get sick, as his immune system is excellent, but he hasn't been sleeping much, and he thinks maybe he caught something because he hasn't been taking care of himself.

Tom takes one look at Shizuo and shakes his head, pointing to the door.

“No way, you look terrible. Vorona and I can handle things today. Go home and get some rest, man.”

“It's nothing,” Shizuo mutters, though he does feel terrible.

“You have plenty of sick days since you never use them. C'mon, go relax a little. I'll call and check in on you later,” Tom says, and Shizuo accepts defeat. Tom is hard to argue with, especially since he's never sent Shizuo home before. Shizuo must really look as bad as he feels.

“Would you like me to send you a list of remedies proven to alleviate cold symptoms?” Vorona asks.

“No, thanks though. I'll just try to sleep it off.”

He's lying on his couch later when his phone rings. He expects it to be Tom, but it's Shinra. Sighing, Shizuo answers, knowing Shinra will just keep calling.

“What?” he snaps.

“Shizuo-kun? You sound weird,” Shinra says.

“I'm sick.” Shizuo doesn't really want to tell Shinra that, as Shinra will likely use it as a reason to come bother him, but if he brings medicine along, Shizuo will tolerate it.

“Sick? You?” Shinra pauses. “You never get sick.”

“Yeah, I guess I'm due. I just feel shitty. I'm tired but I can't sleep and— ugh, my head is fucking throbbing.”

“Hmm. Did this just start today?”

“No, a few days ago. It's just been getting worse. Why? Is there something going around?” Shizuo asks. He hopes he didn't expose Tom and Vorona to the flu or something.

“You could say that!” Shinra laughs a bit, and Shizuo tenses up. He hates when Shinra does this, acts like he knows something no one else does, and then refuses to share. It reminds Shizuo too much of Izaya.

“Is there a reason you fucking called me? Your voice is making my head hurt worse,” Shizuo growls, and Shinra's laughing stops abruptly.

“Ah, sorry! Yes, Celty ran into Tom-san and Vorona-san today! She noticed you weren't there and asked me to call. I'll let her know you're fine.”

“I'm not fine. Do you have anything for headaches? All I have is ibuprofen and it's not doing shit.” Shizuo doesn't keep many pain remedies around. He's never really had a use for them.

“I don't think I have anything that'll help. Just get some rest and, uh. Let me know how you feel by Sunday.”

Shinra hangs up then, and Shizuo is left glaring at his phone. He's thankful it's the weekend. Hopefully, if he spends his off days lounging around and taking medicine, it'll pass by the time he's supposed to return to work.

Throughout the weekend, it only gets worse.

Saturday night, his head is pounding so bad he can't keep his eyes open. He tries to go to bed early and wakes an hour later feeling feverish. He gets out of bed to get some water, and then he winds up running to the bathroom to vomit. He's never gotten sick like this before. He calls Shinra, who promises to visit him in the morning.

Sunday morning, Shizuo is wrapped in two blankets on the couch. He's starving and exhausted, but he can't seem to eat or sleep. Even smoking isn't an option for him right now. He's miserable enough to relent to Shinra examining him. Shinra, of course, looks thrilled.

“So, you say it's been getting worse throughout the week?” Shinra asks as he takes Shizuo's vitals.

“Yeah. Every day it's just harder to deal with it,” Shizuo mutters. He's wearing his sunglasses inside because the lights are torturing him.

“I see,” Shinra says, and he studies the results he's written down. He frowns a bit, and then he pulls another chart from a file in his briefcase. He holds the two together in front of his face, and his face pales.

“What? What is it?” Shizuo asks, a little worried. He's been thinking this might be something bad, especially if his extremely powerful immune system can't fight it off.

“It's, uh. It's nothing,” Shinra squeaks, putting the papers away.

“You don't look like it's nothing,” Shizuo says. “What, am I dying or something? Aren't you legally obligated to tell me if I'm dying?”

“A simple check-up wouldn't tell me if you were dying,” Shinra says with a laugh, and then he's rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Look, I have an idea of what it is... But if I tell you now, you'll only get pissed off at me, and I don't want a fist in my face, especially if I'm wrong. I need to do something before I tell you for sure.”

“What the fuck?” Shizuo asks. “There's a test involved?”

“Yes! A test. We should know for sure by tomorrow!”

“I have to work tomorrow!” Shizuo protests.

“I'll give you some pills to take the edge off the headache. It won't get rid of it, but knowing you, you can power through.” Shinra packs up his things, and Shizuo scoffs at him.

“What incredible medical advice. You're telling me to deal with it.”

“I'm telling you it's nothing to worry over! Well...at least not at the moment. Worst case, you miss work tomorrow, too. Surely you have more than enough sick leave to use since you're never sick.” Shinra gives him a smile, and then he reaches in his pocket before tossing a pill bottle at Shizuo. “Take two of those. They might help you sleep, too.”

“Thanks,” Shizuo says dryly. “Do I need to do anything for this test of yours, or am I supposed to just wait around for you to get back to me?”

“Ah...” Shinra looks sheepish again. “I have to make another house call, and then... Well, if I survive, we'll figure it out from there!”

Shizuo doesn't bother asking for an explanation. Shinra never gives straight answers, especially if he's trying to avoid giving Shizuo bad news in person. Shizuo closes and locks the door behind Shinra when he leaves, and then Shizuo goes to the sink, puts two pills on his tongue, and chases them with water straight from the tap.

That night, Shizuo feels groggy and manages to sleep in waves, though it's always a fitful, shallow sleep. It's better than no sleep at all, and Shizuo feels well enough to heat up some canned soup and keep it down. He still feels feverish, so he's walking around his apartment with blankets draped over him. Tom calls a little after Shizuo washes his dinner dishes.

“Yo. Feeling any better?” Tom greets.

“Yeah, a little. Shinra came by and gave me some pills,” Shizuo says. He moves back towards the couch.

“If you need tomorrow off, just let me know,” Tom says. “We don't have any major targets anyway. Vorona can handle them.”

“I know. I'll wait till the morning to decide for sure. If I don't feel well, I'll give you a call.” Shizuo chats with Tom a little longer, and then he passes out in front of the TV.

Right after three in the morning, Shizuo wakes once more.

He feels terrible, but more than that, he feels ravenous, like he hasn't eaten in days. Technically, he hasn't, as soup doesn't count for much, nutrition wise. He groans and gets up from the couch, deciding to just walk to the convenience store down the street and find something to fill him up, as he doesn't have anything else to eat aside from rice.

There isn't anyone else on the street this early in the morning. Shizuo passes a few cabs, but he doesn't walk by anyone. It smells like rain, and the breeze feels good on his skin, though he shivers a bit as he walks. He's always enjoyed walking, especially when it's dark out. The way the lights illuminate everything around him make him feel relaxed, though his headache has him wearing his shades to keep the worst of the lights from exacerbating his already throbbing temples.

He grabs a few snacks and checks out with the clerk, who looks half-asleep and wary of Shizuo, who probably resembles a zombie at this point. Shizuo exits the store and lights a cigarette as he walks, knowing a good portion of his headache might be withdrawal. It drops from his lips and hits the ground when someone steps in front of him, the last person he'd like to see.

“Izayaaaaaaaa,” Shizuo hisses, tightening his hands into fists. He has to stop himself from throwing his snacks at Izaya, who doesn't seem well in the least.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya lilts, waving his hand in greeting. He looks almost waifish, and the dark circles under his eyes make Shizuo wonder how bad his own must be. “You're up late.”

“I can't fucking sleep,” Shizuo says, and then he grumbles. “Why are you in Ikebukuro?”

“Oh, you know.” Izaya shrugs. “I can't sleep either, and it's been a while since I came this way.”

“You're too fucking close to my building,” Shizuo says, and Izaya feigns a surprised expression.

“You're right! I am awfully close to your hovel, aren't I? I must be delirious.”

“Are you sick? You look like shit.”

“So do you,” Izaya says, and then he crosses his arms. He sniffs a bit. “Are you going to break my arm if I go into the store? I was going to buy a bottle of tea.”

“They have tea in Shinjuku,” Shizuo says.

“Yes, but I'm already here!”

Shizuo expects his head to pound again, because out of everyone in his life, Izaya pisses him off the most. Weirdly enough, he feels...better? Maybe those pills Shinra gave him are starting to work.

“Whatever,” Shizuo mutters at last. “If you do anything, I'll kill you later. I'm too tired to deal with you right now.”

He walks towards Izaya, who stiffens a bit. He doesn't know why he does it, but Shizuo bumps shoulders with Izaya as he passes, and Izaya doesn't do anything in retaliation.

Both of them must really be sick and delusional.

***

When he wakes up again, Shizuo feels great, like he was never sick at all. He doesn't question it too much, since this is usually how colds work for him. He'll feel a little sluggish, and then perfectly normal again. Maybe this was just a bad flu or something. Either way, it's over now, so Shizuo goes to work as usual, and he doesn't think about it again until Shinra calls him a little after he gets back home.

“Did you see Izaya-kun last night?” Shinra asks as soon as Shizuo picks up the phone.

“What the... Yeah? I ran into him at fucking three in the morning.”

“Did you...interact with him?” Shinra asks.

“A little bit. We didn't fight. Is Izaya sick, too? He looked like a skeleton. I didn't feel right about attacking him.” Shizuo has a bad feeling in his stomach, and he doesn't know why.

“This might sound odd, but please don't get too angry,” Shinra says. “Did Izaya-kun touch you at all? Even in passing?”

Shizuo freezes in his tracks. He was going to his fridge to get a beer, but now his stomach is lurching uncomfortably.

“He... No. No, I brushed against him. I think I was threatening him, or... I mean, I didn't think about it.” Shizuo swallows. “Why?”

Shinra sighs, and Shizuo knows he isn't going to like what comes next.

“Your symptoms matched with Izaya-kun's. Everything on your chart, your heart-rate, your temperature, your maladies—everything matched. You both got sick at the same time, right when Izaya-kun was too busy with work to interact with you. It got worse and worse for the two of you until you saw Izaya-kun again, and as soon as you touched, even brushing past, both of your symptoms went away.”

“...huh?” Shizuo's voice sounds small even to him. Shinra clears his throat.

“Do you understand what it is I'm getting at? I know I...mentioned before about being mated to Izaya-kun. You refused to entertain the idea, and so did he. I couldn't do any tests without your consent. But now... Shizuo-kun, this is more than being mated. This is... Are you familiar with a soul bond?”

“A what? You're... Are you saying Izaya is my soulmate? This is— You're sure?” Shizuo wants to feel angry. He wants to refute this and prove Shinra wrong, but as it is, he just feels empty inside.

“I've told you before about the rarity of soulmates. Some people have marks, and every now and then, mated pairs will find each other. Neither you nor Izaya-kun have marks, so it was hard to tell, but when you both got sick from being apart... This is deeper than a normal soul-link, not that those are anything to take lightly. A bond is extremely, extremely rare. There's only been one case in the last year, and it's been over five years since any in Japan have been reported.”

“I don't... I don't get it. I have a soul bond with Izaya? What's that mean?”

“You and Izaya-kun are essentially two halves of one whole. You can't be apart from him without feeling the effects. As insane as it sounds, the two of you were able to keep yourselves sated by fighting—hitting each other, touching at all, even with ill-intent. The moment you met, this started, but it wasn't until you stopped seeing Izaya-kun that the withdrawal crept in.” There's the sound of shifting, fabric rustling. “I'm saying Izaya-kun is more than your soulmate, Shizuo-kun.”

“I don't believe you,” Shizuo says, though he does. He wondered, at least a little, why he felt better as soon as Izaya crossed his path. “You don't know for sure.”

“It's not one-hundred percent,” Shinra relents. “There are a few more tests I can do, if the two of you cooperate.”

“Fine, whatever, anything to prove you wrong!”

Shinra comes by the next day with a sheet of paper filled with questions. They're strange, it's by far the weirdest test Shizuo has ever taken. It asks about dreams, intrusive thoughts, sudden cravings he's had that he's never had before. He fills it out honestly, knowing that lying won't get him anywhere. When he's done, he looks expectantly at Shinra, who is reading them over.

“So?” he barks. “Do they match or whatever?”

“Izaya-kun hasn't taken his test yet,” Shinra says. “He's taking this much worse than you are.”

“Why?!” Shizuo growls. “He's the one who starts everything! He's the awful one! It should be me who refuses to cooperate!”

Shinra shrugs. “Tell him that.”

Five days go by, and Shizuo doesn't hear anything from Shinra. He also doesn't see or hear from Izaya, and by the sixth day, the headache is back. In a fit of rage, Shizuo finds himself opening Izaya's contact. He sends a text.

Does your head hurt?

An hour passes. Shizuo is about to stomp all the way to Shinjuku, but then his phone goes off.

Don't tell me you're actually entertaining this. Izaya sends.

What the fuck else am I supposed to do?

No response. Shizuo waits another fifteen minutes before sending another message.

What if he's right?

Izaya responds right away.

He's not right.

You must have thought he was a little since you came to see me at 3am.

No response. Shizuo roars in rage, which only makes his head hurt worse. He sends another texts, his thumbs pressing so hard against his phone screen, he worries he might crack it.

Take the fucking test or I'm going to tie you up and make you do it.

Kinky ;) Izaya sends.

TAKE THE GODDAMN TEST

Oh, fine. When he ends up being wrong, you can stop acting so pitiful.

The next day, Shizuo doesn't hear anything from Shinra or Izaya. Usually, he'd welcome the quiet, but at the moment, he wants to hear something, anything. His head is beginning to pound unbearably, and he has to take sleeping pills to even scrounge up a few hours of sleep. When he wakes, he has a missed call from Shinra, as well as a text message.

Izaya-kun's test matched yours exactly. I'm sorry.

Shizuo wants to throw his phone against the wall, but he doesn't. As angry as he is, he thinks he already knew. He knew as soon as Shinra mentioned it the first time, he just didn't want to accept it.

He lasts one more day before he's marching to Shinjuku. His head hurts, and he's feeling feverish, but he manages to make it through work. Tom asks where he's going in such a hurry.

“I'm going to kill Izaya,” Shizuo mutters, and he ignores the look Vorona and Tom give each other.

Shizuo bangs on Izaya's door until it opens, and an irritable woman looks back at him. His words die in his throat as she glares at him.

“He's in his room,” she tells him, opening the door. “It's right up the stairs.”

“Uh... Thanks?”

“Tell him I'm leaving for the day, please. I'm tired of dealing with him.” He watches as she gathers her things and leaves, and Shizuo waits only a few moments before he goes up the stairs.

Izaya is buried in blankets, looking as miserable as Shizuo feels. He glowers at Shizuo and rolls away, putting his back to Shizuo.

“Go away,” he moans.

“Izaya—“ Shizuo starts.

“No, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about this.”

Shizuo growls. “Why are you being so shitty about this?! As if I'm happy about it! Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Shizu-chan, even if Shinra is right, what do you propose?” Izaya asks, and then he turns to look at Shizuo. “Do you know what soul bonds mean? You being here at all is going to make it worse.”

“What do you mean? I thought it would help?”

“It will, for a while. Every time we're in proximity, it's like a patch over the problem. It'll help a while, but the next time we feel this way, it'll be worse. We lose days every time.” Izaya rubs his hands over his face. “It's like it got even worse once Shinra opened his fat mouth. We were doing just fine before.”

“So what, then? You want to ignore it?” Shizuo asks.

“We can go on as normal, right? We can fight, and maybe if we draw out how often we see each other, we can lengthen the amount of time it takes before we have to see each other again. We'll...build a tolerance.”

“Fuck that! I feel like shit, and so do you! I'm not gonna just build a tolerance to feeling shitty! Who does that?!” Shizuo stomps towards the bed, and when Izaya meets his eyes, Shizuo freezes. Izaya looks scared. No. Izaya looks terrified.

“Don't touch me!” Izaya shouts, and Shizuo's entire body goes cold. “You idiot, just... Just leave, okay? You're making it worse.”

Shizuo runs his tongue along his teeth, counts to ten. He shakes his head.

“I'm not leaving. I'm not letting you ignore it.”

Izaya laughs, and it sounds completely hollow.

“Do you even understand what you're saying? It's not as if you want to be here. If you don't leave, and you insist on touching me, it's only going to get stronger.”

“Ignoring it isn't an option. It's gonna get worse even if we build a tolerance to it. So then what, it takes a month or so before we feel like this? We're gonna have to interact anyway.” Shizuo moves towards the bed, and Izaya watches him warily. “Might as well get it over with.”

Izaya rolls as far as he can when Shizuo sits on the edge of the bed. There's a large space between them, and Shizuo sighs before reaching out, his fingers skimming along Izaya's shoulder.

“I-za-ya,” Shizuo murmurs. “Come on. Meet me halfway here.”

“I hate you,” Izaya says, but he reaches his hand above the covers. Shizuo touches Izaya's hand timidly, and the instant their skin touches, their headaches vanish completely.

“Oh...” Shizuo breathes. He's close enough to watch Izaya's throat bob as he swallows, close enough to see Izaya's eyelashes. He traces his fingers along the soft skin of Izaya's knuckles, and they aren't holding hands, but Shizuo finds he wants to.

“You've only made it worse,” Izaya says. “The closer you get, the worse it'll be next time.”

“We aren't very close,” Shizuo says. “We don't have to get close. We can manage this much. Just...whenever it's bad, we can touch hands or something. It's not the end of the world.”

“You don't get it,” Izaya argues.

“So then tell me.”

Izaya just shakes his head, and then he pulls his hand away. Shizuo knows he isn't going to get anything else from Izaya, so he stands and leaves, the skin on his hand burning more and more with every step he takes away from Izaya.

***

It takes three days for Shizuo to understand what Izaya meant.

The next time the headache sets in, it's terrible. Shizuo's sunglasses do nothing to help his light sensitivity, and he winds up vomiting right in the middle of the sidewalk, Tom and Vorona on either side of him. They each take an arm and lead him to Shinra's, and the entire time, Shizuo is moaning in pain, trying to explain to them that it won't help.

They're at Shinra's for about fifteen minutes before Izaya stumbles in, looking haggard. Vorona and Tom stand instantly to defend Shizuo and tell Izaya Shizuo is in no shape to fight, but Shizuo shoves past them and hurries to Izaya, taking the informant into his arms like they're lovers.

“You fucking idiot,” Izaya murmurs, but he holds Shizuo just as tightly. “What have you done?”

“I'm sorry,” Shizuo says, and he presses his face into Izaya's hair. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

“Ah. Tom-san, Vorona-san, why don't you let me make you some tea?” Shinra asks, and the sound of footsteps leading from the door alerts Shizuo that he's alone with Izaya. He presses Izaya into the wall of the hallway, still hugging him tightly.

“I don't know what to do,” Shizuo admits. He's breathing Izaya in, and he wants to hate it, to feel as angry about Izaya's scent as usual, but he can't. He feels nothing but relief and comfort with every breath he takes. “Tell me what we can do.”

“There's nothing,” Izaya says, his voice muffled by Shizuo's shoulder. “You've doomed us both. It's only going to get worse.”

“Fuck,” Shizuo hisses. He nuzzles into Izaya's hair, can't think about why he's doing it. “Don't go away again. If it's worse every time, next time, I'm just gonna fucking pass out.”

“Shizu-chan...” Izaya's voice is small, unlike him. Shizuo offers a groan in response, letting Izaya know he understands completely. They don't let go of each other for quite a while.

“Man,” Tom says later when he and Vorona are walking Shizuo home. “Talk about a tough break. Being bonded to someone you hate? It's almost better not to be bound at all.”

“Statistically speaking, being bound at all—“ Vorona starts, and Shizuo grunts at her.

“I don't wanna hear the numbers. They only remind me how unlucky I am.” Shizuo is used to being an anomaly, but the universe really cursed him this time around. Vorona only shrugs, and Tom makes a face.

“Sorry, man. You wanna get drunk?” he asks.

“I'll just wake up hungover. Thanks, though. I'll keep it in mind,” Shizuo mumbles, and Tom and Vorona don't speak again.

The next day, it's all over the news that a couple in Japan are soul bound. Names aren't used, as neither Shizuo nor Izaya agreed to be named, but it seems like everyone is talking about it no matter where Shizuo goes. He wants to be pissed at Shinra for reporting it, but he knows why Shinra had to. If it's really so rare, it's kind of like some breakthrough case, and it gives other people hope. Shizuo is only glad his name wasn't used, and the only ones who know aren't blabbermouths, aside from Shinra, who fears Shizuo and Izaya both too much to say anything.

Part of Shizuo worries Izaya might try to work this to his own advantage, but Izaya seems every bit as displeased about it as Shizuo is, and Shizuo thinks Izaya won't want his name bound to someone's publicly either. They agree to meet the next day so they can fend off the sickness, and Shizuo goes to Izaya's place to make sure Izaya doesn't try to weasel his way out of it.

It isn't like the last time. Neither of them feel sick yet, so they're able to sit close to each other and touch hands while remaining far apart. Izaya scrolls his phone, not looking at Shizuo, and Shizuo tries to do the same, but it annoys him to be treated so impersonally.

“What are you doing anyway?” Shizuo snaps after a while, and Izaya turns to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Working,” Izaya says shortly.

“On what?”

“Sorry, I don't think that's your business?” Izaya says, smirking at Shizuo, and Shizuo tosses his hand away like it's diseased.

“God, I detest you. Whatever, I'm leaving.”

“Fine. Leave, then,” Izaya says, waving him away.

“I will!” Shizuo shouts back.

“I'm not stopping you! The door's right there,” Izaya says, and they glare at each other for a few moments before Shizuo stomps to the door and leaves, slamming it behind him.

They last one day.

Shizuo feels the headache settling in the second he arrives home from work. He vomits an hour later, and before he can even contact Izaya, Izaya is knocking on his door, a defeated look in his eyes.

Again, Shizuo takes Izaya into his arms. He doesn't think anything of it. The more he tries to rationalize it, the worse he feels about it, so he just listens to his body. He wants to be close to Izaya, wants to keep Izaya safe, wants to breathe Izaya in, so that's what he does. They stand at the door for a while, and then Shizuo carries Izaya to the couch, arranges them so Izaya is sitting on Shizuo's lap. If Izaya has any reservations, he doesn't voice them. He's silent as he hugs Shizuo around the neck, and Shizuo appreciates the lack of argument. They're stuck together in this, so he thinks the sooner they accept it, the better.

“Fuck,” Izaya says after a few minutes. He pulls away, and Shizuo makes a soft noise of protest before he pulls Izaya back. Their foreheads touch, and Shizuo closes his eyes, careful to swallow the moan that threatens to escape his lips. It feels so good to touch Izaya like this, to be this close. It's like a drug.

“I didn't mean to make it worse,” Shizuo says, his eyes still closed. He doesn't want to look at Izaya this close, worries he might try to kiss Izaya if he does. Izaya hums in response.

“You were right. It would've gotten worse no matter what we did,” Izaya says, and his hands settle on Shizuo's cheeks. Shizuo does moan then, can't help it. He feels Izaya go rigid against him.

“Did Shinra tell you the results of our test?” Shizuo asks. He has to say something to stop himself from opening his eyes. Izaya surely notices Shizuo is trying to distract him, but he goes along with it.

“He didn't tell you?” Izaya asks.

“Not about the test test, no. He told me our vitals were the same, but I didn't really understand the next part.”

“Mm. You described an odd dream I've been having. And you said you were craving ootoro despite not liking it much.”

“So?” Shizuo asks.

“That's my favorite food. As for the dream, it was about destroying some woman's shop. I had no idea who she was, but it was recurring.”

Shizuo inhales sharply, and then he laughs. He can't help it. His life is so incredibly odd.

“You really are my soulmate, aren't you? Fuck. This is insane. So we can share thoughts?”

“I think so. If we worked at it.” Izaya's nose presses against Shizuo's, and Shizuo opens his eyes, shivers at way Izaya is looking at him. “It's not uncommon for soul bonded pairs to be linked mentally, though I doubt either of us wants that.”

“Isn't it kind of inevitable at this point?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya laughs softly.

“Maybe. It's so rare that I don't know for sure.”

Eventually, Izaya untangles himself from Shizuo, and though Shizuo wants to yank Izaya back into his arms, he refrains. Izaya waves before ducking out of the apartment, and Shizuo just knows he isn't going to sleep well that night, whether their bond is satisfied or not.

He dreams of a big house, empty aside from himself and two babies. He's left to care for them, and he isn't good at it, but he has to be. He's all they have. He's cooking and then the smoke alarm goes off, and it wakes him up. He knows miles away, Izaya must be up, too.

Shizuo fights it as long as he can. He can feel Izaya fighting it, too. They last an entire two days before they wind up back together. Shizuo finds Izaya in a cafe, where he knows Izaya will be despite the fact they aren't talking. He takes one look at Izaya hunched in a chair, and then they're embracing, ignoring the looks of the other patrons.

“This place has excellent hot chocolate. Do you want some?” Izaya asks. Shizuo is entirely helpless to him, is resisting the urge to kiss Izaya silly.

“Yes. Fuck, whatever you want,” Shizuo murmurs, and Izaya trembles. He calls their order to the girl at the counter, and Shizuo takes Izaya's face in his hands, brushes his lips over Izaya's.

“Shizu...” Izaya breathes, and then their mouths are meeting. Shizuo groans against Izaya's lips, kisses him softly at first, and then brushes his tongue across Izaya's lips. Izaya resists, and Shizuo growls lowly in warning, and then their tongues are meeting, and Shizuo loses his mind at the taste of his mate. Izaya melts against him, and Shizuo's hands move under Izaya's shirt, span the soft skin of Izaya's back, and it takes the sound of the girl announcing the hot chocolate is ready for them to break apart. Shizuo tries to go retrieve it, but Izaya whines and pulls him closer, silently begging Shizuo not to let go of him. Shizuo carries Izaya to the counter, and then back to the table. He holds Izaya in his lap and lets the drink go cold in favor of tasting Izaya to his heart's content.

“Come over,” Shizuo pleads later. He's pressing Izaya to the wall outside. He knows they shouldn't make a spectacle of themselves like this, but he can't resist the call of Izaya's lips, and he knows Izaya feels the same.

“Shizu-chan... It's not a good idea,” Izaya says, trying to turn away from Shizuo's mouth. Shizuo yanks him back, licks inside Izaya's mouth with a low groan.

“I can't be without you anymore. I don't care what that makes us,” Shizuo says when they break apart again. “We can just sleep. I don't need anything but for you to be beside me.”

“Okay,” Izaya agrees at last, and he mewls enticingly when Shizuo licks at his neck. Shizuo doesn't know how he lived so long without the taste of Izaya on his tongue.

“Thank you,” Shizuo says, feeling pathetic. If Izaya tries to leave, he thinks he might go insane. He carries Izaya back to his apartment building, and he holds Izaya's hand while Izaya orders them takeout on his phone.

They wind up sharing lo-mein from the Chinese place nearby, Izaya feeding Shizuo a bite before taking his own. They pick at everything else, their eyes on each other as they try to eat, but eating isn't what their bodies are screaming for. Izaya just barely manages to set the takeout containers on the floor before Shizuo is pressing Izaya's body into the couch cushions, kissing him hungrily, desperately. Izaya wraps around Shizuo, kisses Shizuo back just as ravenously. Their bond sings between them, and when Shizuo grinds down against Izaya, Izaya gasps and rolls his hips up to meet him.

“Izaya... Izaya, fuck...” Shizuo manages, panting against Izaya's neck as they move together.

“Shizu-chan... We...nnn... We should stop...” Izaya breathes, and Shizuo whines in response.

“Do you want to...?”

“No,” Izaya says, and he looks up at Shizuo, his pupils blown wide. “What do you want?”

“I want you,” Shizuo says, and the second the words leave him, he feels the truth in them. Suddenly, the fact they've waited this long is ridiculous. They're mated. Mates can't be apart like this.

“Are you sure?” Izaya asks, and he runs his hands through Shizuo's hair. “If we do this, there's no going back. We'll never get away from each other.”

“So? I don't want to be away from you.” Shizuo turns his head, catches Izaya's wrist, and pulls Izaya's hand to himself, kissing the soft skin of Izaya's palm. “It's already too late for that, isn't it?”

Izaya breathes deeply, and then he shakes his head.

“It's not you talking. It's the bond. You need to think about this and what it means.”

“How am I supposed to think about it?” Shizuo asks. “If you go away again, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind. And when you're next to me, you're all I want.” Shizuo looks into Izaya's eyes. “What's left? What do I have to do to convince you that I need you?”

“I don't know,” Izaya says. He looks upset, and Shizuo hates it, wants to fight whatever is hurting Izaya like this, though he gets the feeling it's Izaya himself. “No one's ever... It doesn't make sense...”

“Izaya,” Shizuo says, and he hears the desire in his own voice.

“I'm supposed to go to America in a few days,” Izaya blurts suddenly, and Shizuo freezes above him. “I have a few clients there... I'm supposed to be gone for a month.”

“A month?” Shizuo asks, his mouth dry. “You can't. Izaya—we won't last a month.”

“I don't want this!” Izaya sits up, and Shizuo willingly backs away from him. “I don't want to be tied to you! You don't even fucking want me! You need me, and I don't...” Izaya pauses before looking down at the couch cushions. “It'd be different if it was anyone else, but you hate me. You've always hated me. We're only together because it stops you from feeling like shit.”

“That's the only reason you're here, too,” Shizuo says, and he can feel the despair coming from Izaya. It doesn't make any fucking sense. Neither of them want this... Izaya hates Shizuo just as much as Shizuo's always hated Izaya, right?

Izaya stands and hurries out the door. Shizuo feels the pull of their bond, but he doesn't chase after Izaya. He doesn't know what the fuck he's supposed to say.

***

Two days later, Shizuo is completely bed-bound.

Shinra comes by to give him painkillers and a lecture, but Shizuo shoves Shinra out the door before the doctor can say something too stupid. Celty stays behind, and Shizuo doesn't mind talking to her about it. She's his best friend, and she has his best interests at heart.

“So he's just going to go across the ocean for a month?” Celty asks. She fidgets. “I don't know much about soul bonds, but I don't think the two of you would survive that.”

“Izaya doesn't seem to care,” Shizuo mutters. He has his sunglasses on inside again. He knows Celty won't find it rude.

“Izaya knows he can't do it. No one could be away from their soulmate for that long.” Her shoulders sink with a sigh. “I love Shinra, but even we aren't soulmates. Shinra has a human lifespan, and... He'll die never finding his soulmate.”

“Does he have a mark?” Shizuo asks. He's often wondered this. It wouldn't make sense for Shinra, a human, to be bound to Celty.

“Yes. It's faded, grayed out on top. It means the person bound to him is already dead. He says he doesn't care, that he wouldn't love them anyway, because likely they'd have a head.” Celty doesn't have an expression to read, but Shizuo can read it all the same. She's looking at him imploringly, hopefully. She wants him to understand her meaning.

“What would you do, if you were me?” Shizuo asks. Celty has been around for a long time. More than that, he trusts her. She wouldn't lie to him.

“For starters, I wouldn't let him leave. It's basically a death wish for you both.” She pauses, her shadows swirling thoughtfully from her neck. “I don't know Izaya very well, but Shinra does. Shinra says Izaya is afraid of rejection, and that he's scared to be himself around anyone. I think Izaya just wants to know that you want him for him, and not because some otherworldly force is telling you to.”

“How am I supposed to convince him of that if I don't even know the answer for sure?” Shizuo asks, and he can tell she's sighing.

“How can you expect him to stay if he thinks you're doing it in spite of your hatred of him?”

“Fuck,” Shizuo murmurs, knowing she's right. “This is why I never talk to you about stuff like this. You're too smart.”

She whacks him on the shoulder, and he laughs, knowing she's laughing with him even if he can't hear it. When she leaves, he thinks about what she said, what Shinra said, and what Izaya said. He decides to go to Izaya's the next day. He'll make Izaya hear him.

In the morning, Shizuo wakes up to his alarm blaring, and he can barely move. Making it to Izaya's will be impossible, and he knows if he calls Izaya, Izaya won't answer. He considers calling Shinra and having Shinra intervene on his behalf, but there's no need. Shortly after noon, Shizuo hears clicking in the lock, and then the door is opening. Izaya stumbles inside, and Shizuo thinks that maybe Izaya was always the stronger of the two of them, because Izaya is still standing.

“I'm leaving later today,” Izaya says. He leans against the wall, his complexion slightly green.

“So why are you here?” Shizuo asks. “Even if you come over here with me, the effects won't last a month. You'll be overseas, and we'll both be too sick to function.”

“I'm here to tell you goodbye,” Izaya says, and he's inching closer, still tilting into the wall as he goes. “Maybe I'm here to take the edge off the pain until I'm too far for that to be an option anymore.”

“Izaya,” Shizuo says. He balances himself on his elbows as he lifts to look at Izaya. “Don't go.”

“Why not?” Izaya asks, halting in his tracks. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Because we need each other, because we're bound. Because every second you aren't around, I sense what you're thinking, have the same dreams as you, crave the same foods as you. Fuck, Izaya, I don't know. I love you, okay? Isn't that reason enough for you to stay?” Shizuo asks. He rolls off the couch, managing to stand on his knees.

“I've loved you since high school,” Izaya says, and Shizuo doesn't have to look for the truth in Izaya's words. He can tell they're honest. “I loved you before I knew of any bond. But you hated me. You hated me when we met, before I even did anything.”

“I was a pissed off teenager, and we both fought so much it never occurred to me I'd be bound to you. For fuck's sake, Izaya, have you ever considered I hated you because you were too fucking pretty to look at?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya's eyes widen.

“Is that a reason to hate someone?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo laughs bitterly.

“Yes. I hated myself and my strength, and you showed up next to Shinra, looking perfect. I didn't think I'd ever even deserve to be near you. And then you slashed me across the chest—“

“After you charged at me,” Izaya interjects.

“Yes. After that. I'm not denying my part in our feud, okay? I'm not denying any of it. I love you. I don't care what's making me love you, and I don't care if I need you, because I want you, too. I've wanted you longer than I've needed you. I've wanted you since we met.” Shizuo looks up, and Izaya is in front of him now, still standing. Shizuo wraps his arms around Izaya's waist and buries his face into Izaya's stomach.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says. His hands settle in Shizuo's hair.

“Izaya, please,” Shizuo breathes, and Izaya drops to his knees, his arms flying around Shizuo's neck before their lips meet. Shizuo pulls Izaya to him, kissing him as if his life depends on it, and with their bond satisfied, Shizuo is able to stand and pull Izaya along with him to the bed.

“I have lube in my pocket,” Izaya says, his eyes wide as he looks at Shizuo. “I just thought... I thought if it worked out, you wouldn't be prepared, so...”

“I don't need a condom, do I?” Shizuo asks, though he knows the answer already. Izaya is pressed against him from head to toe, and Shizuo can feel in their bond that Izaya has never been touched by anyone else.

“No,” Izaya says. “I... I've never wanted anyone but you.”

“Neither have I.”

It's not perfect. It's fast, clumsy. Izaya prepares himself because Shizuo is too afraid of hurting him, and once Shizuo is pushing himself into Izaya, neither of them lasts long enough for it to be thoroughly enjoyable. Shizuo thrusts once, twice, and comes inside Izaya with a whine. His hand circles Izaya's dick and barely pumps Izaya at all before Izaya joins him.

It's not great sex, but they both know as soon as it's over that they'll never be able to be apart again. Shizuo leans down and kisses Izaya's cheeks, his eyelids. He tastes tears on Izaya's face and feels in Izaya's feedback that Izaya is happy, comforted. Neither of them has to say anything at all.

They have each other a few more times that night, each time getting better. Izaya eventually cancels his flight, saying he knew all along that Shizuo wouldn't let him go. They fall asleep joined together, and they share the same dream, but in the morning, neither of them remembers it.

Shizuo wakes early and nuzzles into Izaya, who moans quietly before tugging Shizuo closer.

“Don't you have to work today?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo kisses him gently.

“I have a few sick days left.”

“Mmm,” Izaya hums, one of his hands moving over Shizuo's chest. He giggles suddenly and moves closer.

“What?” Shizuo asks sleepily.

“I'm tracing my name,” Izaya says, moving his fingers over where he carved his name in Shizuo before.

“Oh, fuck you,” Shizuo grumbles, but he doesn't really care much. He's far too pleased with their bond resonating between them, and he can feel Izaya is, too.

“You were always mine,” Izaya murmurs, and he kisses his name across Shizuo's chest, marks that won't scar, but are settled over a scar Izaya carved in the past, their first meeting, in fact.

“I was,” Shizuo says, and though he didn't always know it, he knows now that it's true all the same.

#shizaya #Shizuo Heiwajima #Izaya Orihara #soulmate AU #soul bonds #separation anxiety

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riotwritesthings · 4 years

Text

Tony Learns Something New

SteveTony, Extremely E, 11k, PWP, complete and utter filth y’all, pre-serum!Steve, vague non-powered AU (check AO3 tags for more info)

This is all Stella’s fault, she put the idea in my head and it just TOOK OVER. And Ant encouraged me. This is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, and yes I’m including the tentacle porn.

ANYWAYS, skinny Steve is hung like a horse and he fucks the way he lives his life, like he’s got something to prove. Thanks for coming to my Tedtalk.

I have nothing to say for myself except NO SHAME 2020. Come get your porn.

In which Tony finds out that his tiny artist boyfriend is not a nice boy. In the best possible way.

Tony likes Steve Rogers. He really, really likes Steve Rogers. He might even love Steve, if Tony could let himself think about things like that without giving himself a panic attack. Steve is short, he’s adorable, he’s twenty pounds of smartass in a five pound bag and he is one hundred percent always down to fight. Tony knows enough about art to know that Steve is good, but he still blushes so adorably when Tony tells him so. He’s also sweet, and thoughtful, he’s a little bit goofy and fun, and Tony is constantly learning amazing new things about him.

Okay fine, so maybe Tony is already dangerously in love with Steve Rogers. They’ve only been dating a couple weeks, and Tony is already gone. So Tony wants to do this right, take his time, Steve is special, and he’s worth it. Tony doesn't want to ruin this by being his usual easy, straight-to-the-sack-and-dinner-after self.

Which is why Tony pulls himself away when the kiss starts to get a little heated, forces himself to settle for one last, short kiss to Steve’s soft lips before he leans back. “Sorry,” Tony says, a little sheepish, and prepares to settle back in to watch more weirdly intense cooking shows. They’re just having a nice stay-in date, curled up barefoot on Steve’s couch, it’s cozy and domestic and Tony is perfectly happy with this, he really is. No matter what his libido keeps trying to convince him.

What Tony is not prepared for, is to be abruptly and aggressively bowled over, landing on his back on the soft couch with barely enough time to blink in confusion before Steve is on him. Steve presses his way between Tony’s thighs, buries his fingers in Tony’s hair, and then proceeded to kiss all the air straight out of his lungs.

“What’re you sorry for?” Steve asks in between toe-curling flicks of his tongue against Tony’s, “other than drivin�� me crazy?”

“Uh,” Tony says brightly, and then shivers all over when Steve bites sharply at his lip. Tony can’t say anything for several long minutes, mostly because Steve’s tongue is doing its best to get intimately acquainted with every inch of his mouth, but finally he scrapes together the brain cells to offer “I’ve been trying not to push you?”

Steve laughs against his jaw, and yeah, Tony can admit that seems a little ridiculous now, with Steve sprawled out on top of him like he’s just been dying for the chance to get there. “Tony,” Steve says patiently, and then bites at his jaw hard enough to startle a moan out of him, “I have been waiting t’ get inside you for weeks now.”

Which is, okay, not exactly how Tony had expected this to go, apparently Steve’s ‘wholesome good guy’ personality is hiding a bit of a freak underneath. Tony can work with that, he’s a flexible guy, so to speak, and he’s about to let Steve know how completely on board he is with that plan when Steve shifts, lines their hips up just right to grind himself against Tony’s hip, and Tony’s brain completely whites out.

Because here’s another fun thing Tony has just now learned about Steve Rogers, for all that he’s a skinny, big-talking little shit, he apparently backs that up by having a monster cock. Jesus, Tony can only hope that thing is already fully hard because if not he’s honestly a little worried for Steve’s blood pressure. He snaps out of his thoughts when Steve leans back just enough to pull his shirt off, his slim, pale chest sending Tony’s brain into another tailspin before Steve is crashing down on top of him, kissing him again.

“H-holy fuck,” Tony finally gasps out, legs snapping up to wrap around Steve’s narrow waist, grinding up aginst him because he just has to double check that thing is real. “What the- are you serious?” He can’t help asking breathlessly, and then gasps when it twitches against the crease of his thigh, thick and long and a little terrifying.

Steve laughs softly, then props himself up on his arms to better roll his hips down against Tony’s. “You wanna feel it, baby?” He asks, a frankly spine-melting smirk spreading across his face, “‘cause I’ve been thinkin’ about it. Been thinkin’ about it a lot. The way you’d look wrapped around me, takin’ me, stretched so wide you can’t take anymore. You wanna feel that, too?”

“Hnng,” Tony says around a stunned groan, and then makes a couple other garbled sounds as Steve grinds against him again, with intent, and oh fuck that’s definitely Steve’s cock lined up aginst his taint now, the head twitching and nudging against Tony’s balls while the base presses against his ass and holy fuck. Tony’s never been a size queen, okay, but he is shaking at the thought of having all of that inside him.

“Tony?” Steve asks, pausing the steady roll of his rips to raise an eyebrow at him, “no thoughts? You seem... uncharacteristically quiet.”

“I thought you were a nice boy!” Tony blurts, and then can’t help laughing just a little at how scandalized it came out. Steve laughs along with him at least, leaning down just a little so his breath washes hot over Tony’s lips.

“I can play the blushing virgin, if that’s what you were expecting,” Steve offers, but the way he’s slowly pressing his hips into Tony’s again and dragging his lips tantalizingly over Tony’s makes Tony wonder if that’s actually a thing he’s capable off.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Tony says quickly, because sure he’s a little (or a lot) shocked, but he’s sure as hell not complaining. To prove his point he tightens his thighs around Steve’s hips, drags both palms up Steve’s chest as he says “can’t just taunt a man like that and then not follow through, you gotta show me what you got now, honey.”

“I’ll show you what I got,” Steve says, voice full of the kind of dark promise Tony wouldn’t have thought him capable of five minutes ago and already wants to see so much more of. Steve leans down to kiss him again, just long enough for Tony to start sinking into it, and then pulls away and grins at the sound of Tony’s desperate whine. “I’m gonna eat you out until you’re sloppy and begging for it,” he says, matter of fact, like he’s announcing the weather.

“F-fuck,” Tony gasps, hips jerking up and Steve just rolls with the motion, one of his hands slipping into the open collar of Tony’s shirt as he bites his way along Tony’s jaw.

“Gonna fuck you open, Tony,” Steve breathes into his ear, hot and so filthy, holy shit. “Get you so loose I can slide right back in, so easy, stuff you so full you feel me for days.” He pauses to nip at Tony’s earlobe and lets out a low groan as Tony’s arms slide around his back and haul him in closer. “Does that sound good to you, sweetheart?” He asks, slender, paint-stained thumb stroking over the hollow of Tony’s throat.

“Yes,” Tony chokes out, eyes squeezed shut because if Steve says one more sexy as fuck thing than this might all be over before it even starts. “Fuck yes, all- all of that, fuck-“ he adds, just in case Steve didn’t get the memo, and then whines pitifully when Steve’s hand slides away from him, when Steve starts pulling away.

“Then we need to move,” Steve says, equal parts patient and smug as he starts detangling their limbs and pushes himself to his feet. “I wanna spread you out proper, can’t do that on the couch,” he adds, holding out a hand and Tony lets himself be pulled to his feet in a slight daze.

“Right, of course, because you have plans,” Tony says around a short burst of giggles, and then shivers again when Steve gives him a slow smirk. Tony’s shivers only get harder when Steve steps into his space, wraps his arms around Tony’s waist and digs slender yet surprisingly strong fingers into his ass through his jeans.

“You have no idea,” Steve says, voice low and rough, then leans up and kisses him. Tony drapes his arms around Steve’s shoulders, the perfect height, and he’s not even embarrassed to admit that he’s leaning on Steve pretty heavily as they stumble their way to the bedroom because the way Steve’s tongue presses demandingly between his lips has Tony’s knees going weak.

Thank god they’re at Steve’s apartment, because as much as he’s a hot-shot successful artist he’s also endearingly modest, and his taste in housing reflects that. It means that at least it’s a short stumble to the bedroom, and then Steve is pressing Tony up against the wall and tugging impatiently at his shirt.

“Been dreaming about gettin’ my hands on you,” Steve breathes out against his lips, grinding himself against Tony’s thigh and driving him insane. “Wanna see you fall apart, gorgeous. Wanna memorize every second of it, leave my mark all over you, inside an’ out.”

“Gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” Tony tries to joke even though it does not at all hide the way his hands are shaking as he reaches for the button of Steve’s jeans, pausing only to shrug his shirt off when Steve starts shoving it down his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Steve says, dead serious, then kisses him again as he tugs Tony away from the wall and starts shoving him towards the bed, stepping out of his own pants along the way. “Gonna draw the way you look when you sob for me, the way your perfect ass looks when it’s swollen an’ used and leakin’ my come. Hang it on my fuckin’ mantle.”

Tony is too busy gasping and moaning and turning to jelly to even try and fight it when Steve shoves him backwards, just goes sprawling down across the bed. Tony can’t help letting out a soft whine, only a little terrified, at the sight of Steve standing above him, huge cock tenting his boxers so hard that the fabric looks strained and visibly leaking at the tip.

Steve smirks, like he knows exactly what Tony is staring at, that Tony’s heart is tripping all over itself in his chest, then starts tugging Tony’s pants and underwear down all in one go. Tony’s legs are still hanging awkwardly half off the bed and he has to resist the urge to clench his thighs closed under Steve’s dark gaze, feeling incredibly exposed because he knows how good Steve is at recreating a scene from memory.

Then Steve steps back, gets Tony’s pants free of his feet and tosses them away before saying “roll over.” It’s almost a relief to be able to press his burning face into the sheets, and Tony lets out a sigh that turns into a squeak as Steve’s hands land on his ass the second he’s settled. “Your fucking ass, Tony,” Steve groans out, fingers digging in as he pushes and pulls at the muscle. And his fingers might be thin but they’re long, and his palms are wide, and he covers a surprising amount of real estate as he spreads his hands wide and squeezes, pulling Tony’s cheeks apart and sighing “this is the real work of art right here.”

“Steve, Steve, fuck- Ah!” Tony nearly squeals at the cold puff of air against his hole, clenching up reflexively even as he pushes himself back into Steve’s hands.

“So sweet, can’t wait to make you cry,” Steve growls, and Tony’s startled laugh cuts off in a warbling moan as Steve licks firmly over his hole. Steve hums and then does it again, slower, flicks the tip of his tongue over the edge of Tony’s rim.

Tony whines high in his throat, braces his elbows against the mattress and tries to push back into it the next time Steve’s tongue moves over him. “O-oh, god- fuck, Steve,” he gasps, thighs shaking at the strain of holding himself up, still half-sprawled over the edge of the bed.

It draws a frustrated groan out of him when Steve refuses to move any faster, just keeps licking him slow and firm, curling his tongue just a little harder against Tony’s rim with every pass. Steve’s fingers dig in harder when Tony tries to rock back against him, tries to to get more, anything. More of Steve’s breath hot and close against his skin, Steve’s nails digging perfect little crescents into his skin and his tongue slick and wet, working Tony open painfully slow.

“Steve-“ he groans again, drawing it out until it sounds more like a breathy whine than anything. Tony trembles all over as he tries in vain to push himself back against Steve’s tongue and fuck, Steve is barely licking into him and already Tony is losing his goddamn mind, can’t help blurting out “please- Ah!” Tony wails when Steve’s tongue stabs into him, deep, wet and demanding even as Tony clenches around him, and then it’s all he can do not to sob when Steve withdraws.

“Shouldn’t be in such a hurry,” Steve says, voice rough and just loud enough for Tony to hear it over his own heaving breaths, “‘m gonna be here for awhile.” He circles the very tip of his tongue around Tony’s hole, just traces around and around until Tony lets out a desperate whimper and tries to jerk back against him.

Then Steve plunges back in again, starts licking Tony open in earnest as his hands pry Tony’s cheeks even further apart. Every shaking moan and gasp that bursts from Tony’s lungs just seems to egg him on, has him pressing in deeper, scraping his teeth over Tony’s rim everytime he presses in close and then flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin on the withdrawal.

“Shit- holy fuck-“ Tony groans out, fingers catching and clawing at the sheets and every time Steve’s tongue wiggles back into him it sets off another shower of sparks under his skin. He tries to shove himself back harder but Steve just moves with him, keeps the pace exactly what he wants it to be. “Steve, please, please- fuck, oh fuck that’s so good, please-“

Steve huffs out a laugh against his skin, breath hot, and teases his tongue in little circles, just barely dipped inside him, until Tony chokes out a desperate noise and his legs threaten to give out. No matter how much Tony begs, how much he pleads and arches and moans, Steve just keeps fucking going. Until Tony’s entire crack feels sloppy and wet, spit sliding all the way down to his balls and his poor neglected cock leaking against the sheets every time his hips jerk forward. Tony’s not sure when it happened but one of his knees is hitched up on the edge of the mattress, spreading him wide for Steve’s tongue, his arms wrapped up around his head as his every breath comes out a hitching whine.

Finally Steve pulls back, far enough that Tony can only barely feel his breath and Tony has to bite down a desperate moan that wants to burst out of him because he feels so cold, and empty, his oversensitive hole twitching and clenching in the cool air. “Still with me, baby?” Steve asks, voice rough and amused, fingers digging in a little harder along the bottom swell of Tony’s ass.

“Guh,” Tony chokes out, and decides to let himself believe that the sheets beneath his face are not soaked through with drool. “F-fuck, Steve,” he finally manages, lifting his head just a little only to immediatly drop it again with a low groan when Steve’s thumbs dig into his muscle.

“You wanna come like this?” Steve asks, then drags the pointed tip of his tongue over Tony’s hole as if Tony could possibly need the reminder of how amazing that feels. “Or do you wanna see what else I have planned for you?” Steve punctuates that question by pressing his tongue in deep, forcing a reedy moan out of Tony before he pulls back again to ask “what do you think sweetheart, you want more?”

“More,” Tony gasps and he doesn’t even have to think about it, he can’t get the feeling of Steve’s cock out of his mind and fuck yes he wants to feel more.

“Good answer,” Steve says and god, Tony can just hear his smirk, but before Tony can huff at him Steve is dropping a quick kiss to Tony’s wet hole and pulling away entirely. “Wiggle up and roll over for me,” he says, giving Tony’s ass a little shove and then laughing as Tony loose-limbed-flails his way up onto the bed.

Tony can’t even be offended, he’s sure he looks ridiculous but he really doesn’t care because he can feel his pulse everywhere, doubly so in his throbbing cock, and it’s so tempting to just grind himself down against the soft sheets until he comes. It wouldn't even take long, just a couple firm rolls of his hips and he’d be gone. Tony forces himself to flop over onto his back instead, sprawled out and panting.

“Look at you baby,” Steve says from somewhere off to the side, voice low and awed and it sends a shiver up Tony’s spine, has him whining softly as his cock twitches against his stomach. There’s the soft sound of something shifting and then Steve is crawling up onto the bed, lube in hand, and settling between Tony’s splayed legs.

“Fuck,” Tony breathes out because Steve is gloriously naked now, his cock thick and too long to even curve up, standing straight out from his body in a proud jut. Tony swallows hard, gut clenching.

“You look so damn gorgeous right now,” Steve continues, smirking wide like he knows exactly what the sight of him is doing to Tony. “All flushed an’ desperate for me, could just stare at you all night. So damn pretty.”

“Please don’t,” Tony whines, hips jerking up under Steve’s heavy gaze, “I might actually die if- fuck, if you don’t get me off in some spectacular fashion. Preferably soon.”

“I do like a challenge,” Steve says, then leans over Tony to grab one of the pillows from the head of the bed. Tony is nearly too boneless to help as Steve wiggles the pillow under his hips, and then all he can do is blush as it leaves him with his ass in the air and his legs splayed out, completely exposed to Steve’s dark stare.

“Honey,” Tony whines, “please just- oh-” He breaks off in a gasp as Steve presses close, head of his cock nudging up behind Tony’s balls and the thick shaft sliding over his clenching hole. “F-fuck, Steve-“

“I said I want to fuck you open, Tony, and I meant it,” Steve says, low and serious, rolls his hips back until the head of his cock just barely presses against Tony’s hole before pressing forward again. He waits until Tony’s gasping moan trails off to add “wanna make you feel every single inch of me. Wanna carve my way into you so deep you can’t ever get rid of me.” He thrusts against Tony again, watching Tony gasp from beneath his gorgeous eyelashes as he asks “you want that too, baby?”

And Tony has no words, none, it’s all he can do to remember to breathe as he flushes hot everywhere because fuck what an idea. An enticing, arousing, and frankly terrifying idea. Steve’s head tips to the side a little when Tony doesn’t answer, looking unfairly like an adorable puppy and a small part of Tony still can’t believe this is the same man who wants to split Tony open on his monster cock. What the fuck.

Apparently Tony is stuck in ‘stunned silence’ mode for too long because Steve leans down to nose along his throat, voice gentle as he says “you can tell me no, Tony. Whatever you want, we can do anything you want.” And Tony believes him, is the thing, even with the way Steve’s cock is twitching against him, fully believes that Steve would let him change his mind without a word of complaint, would do anything Tony wants.

“I want it,” Tony finally manages to gasp out, because he does, “I want that, want to feel you, fuck-“ He drags his hands up Steve’s back to his shoulder blades, feels the way they shift under Steve’s pale skin as he rolls his hips again, a little harder.

“You will,” Steve promises and bites his way along Tony’s collar bone. “You’re gonna feel me every time you move, everytime you breathe, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re not gonna be able to leave this goddamn bed. Keep you right here, nice an’ open for me.”

“Holy fuck,” Tony groans, fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders and tugging at him shakily, “seriously, what- get the fuck up here and kiss me, you filthy little shit.” Steve is laughing as he obediently wiggles up, cock sliding up the crease of Tony’s hip until it presses wetly along Tony’s own leaking cock and then kisses him, deep and heady.

And fuck, Tony has been missing out on so much in his stupid attempts to hold himself back. Even just the way Steve kisses is enough to turn Tony to jelly, hungry and demanding and how the hell did Tony never notice he’s dating a certified freak. That’s the kind of thing he likes to know, so that he can properly appreciate it.

By the time Steve pulls back again Tony has gone full stupid, and all he can do is blink dumbly for a second before Steve’s cock twitches against him and Tony remembers oh right, he’s so worked up he can hardly breathe. “Please fuck me open on your monster cock,” Tony gasps out, and even just saying it sends another shiver through him but he’s really hoping that egging Steve on will force him to finally do something.

When Steve pulls back Tony still whines, because he’d been enjoying that kissing. And then he’s whining for an entirely different reason, gut clenching and heat flashing up his spine as Steve starts lubing himself up. Fuck, Tony’s ass already aches just looking at that thing and he can’t help another impatient noise that has Steve smirking wider.

Steve hooks one hand under Tony’s knee and pushes his leg up, uses the other to press the fat head of his cock against Tony, still slick with spit and quickly smeared with lube. “You ready, baby?” Steve asks, wicked grin on his face as he rubs his cock over Tony’s hole, letting it barely catch on the rim before sliding away again, “you want it?”

“Would you just-“ Tony tries to snap only to break off in a moan when Steve just barely presses inside him before sliding away again, just a teasing burn that has Tony’s legs shaking where one of them is wrapped around Steve’s hip, the other still pushed up towards his chest in Steve’s firm hold. “Steve, fuck-“

“Tell me you want it, Tony,” Steve says, voice deceptively soft considering he’s driving Tony insane and Tony couldn’t stop the whine that drags out of him if he tried.

“I- fuck, oh-“ Tony cuts himself off with another breathy noise as Steve’s cock presses hard against him again, forcing him open around the wide head and fuck Steve’s tongue was nothing compared to this. There’s already lighting shooting up Tony’s spine, every breath coming out as great gasping pants and there’s a small part of him convinced that this isn’t going to work, that he’s going to die. That doesn’t stop him from raising his arms up, stretching up until he can just barely reach the headboard and use that tiny bit of leverage to try and shove himself down against Steve as he gasps out “I want it, please- fuck I w-want it so bad- Steve!”

“Gorgeous,” Steve says, rolling his hips and smiling wide at Tony’s high groan as he presses in a little deeper. Tony makes another soft sound as Steve does it again and the head of his cock finally pops inside, then whines when Steve immediately switches to pulling back, teasing the ridged head against his rim until Tony has to choke down a wet sound. “God you look so good like this,” Steve sighs, finally pressing forward again, just a little bit, sliding in just a little bit deeper, “so fuckin’ pretty, like you don’t even know if you can take it but you want to anyways.”

“Oh- oh my god, fuck-“ Tony moans back because that’s basically the only thing going on in his head, his entire body shaking as fire races through every single nerve ending in his body. Every time Steve presses a little deeper it’s another sharp shock of bright, aching, burning pleasure, every time he withdraws it’s a mix of relief and terrible, echoing emptiness. It’s too much, it’s amazing, the constant back and forth melting every single thought in Tony’s brain and when his next breath comes out uncomfortably close to a sob he doesn’t even try to stop it. “Fuck, Steve-“

“You’re doin’ so good baby,” Steve says, voice finally gone a little shaky, “so perfect, feel so fuckin’ good, Tony, you’re so tight, openin’ up so perfect for me.” He pulls back nearly all the way, ignoring both Tony’s pathetic whine and his foot digging into Steve’s thigh in favor of just hovering there, head of his cock barely holding Tony open as he pours some more lube directly onto his cock, spreading it evenly before pushing back in again, just a little deeper than before. “About halfway there,” Steve says, and grins wickedly at Tony’s answering whine, “you’re so good, doin’ so perfect Tony. How you feelin’ baby? Feels good?”

“Good,” Tony groans out instantly, because god forbid Steve stop, “so good, fu-uck, oh!” Steve presses deeper, and then deeper, breaking Tony open with every roll of his hips in the most amazing way. Tony’s eyes finally squeeze closed and he can’t take it anymore, can’t take the sight of Steve, pale skin gorgeously flushed and glowing, golden hair falling into his face and barely a hint of blue left in his eyes as they drag over the length of Tony’s body. “Steve, Steve,” Tony whines, “god, you- it’s so much.”

“An’ you’re takin’ it so well,” Steve breathes out, shoving forward just a little harder and groaning when Tony gasps and jerks against him. “Wish you could see it, your pretty little hole all stretched out around me, squeezin’ me tight, takin’ me so perfect, you’re so gorgeous, Tony,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over Tony’s near constant moans.

Steve withdraws one more time to add more lube and then tosses the tube aside, thrusts back in and uses his newly freed hand to hook under Tony’s other knee, pushing it up to his chest as well. Tony keeps his eyes shut because the spreading, mind-melting heat inside him is threatening to push him over the edge all on its own and he can’t watch. Bad enough that Steve’s every breath comes out in a low grunt that goes straight to Tony’s cock.

“So close now, sweetheart,” Steve says, hitching Tony’s legs up a little higher, speeding up the rocking motion of his hips and pressing deeper, deeper. “You ready? You want it baby?”

“Yes, yes, please-“ Tony moans out and he’s given up on leverage, hands laying loose above his head and just waiting for anything Steve gives him, everything Steve gives him. Which is just, fuck, so much, and it forces a near scream out of him when Steve thrusts himself in that last little bit, still more than Tony expected, and Tony’s eyes snap open as he gasps out “o-oh, fuck. Steve.”

“There you are,” Steve coos, smiling even as his thin chest heaves with every breath, rocking his hips slightly and shifting his thick cock where it’s lodged deep inside Tony, forcing him to open up around it. “Can you feel me baby? Feel how deep I am, feel me up in your throat?”

Tony’s response is just a series of choked noises, toes curling and fingers tangling in the sheets, shudders racing up his spine constantly. He can’t breathe, can’t move a muscle for fear of splitting open at every seam, stuffed full and stretched wider than he’s ever been and it’s so fucking good, he can feel Steve’s cock twitch inside him and if Tony moves a muscle he is going to come and then he is going to break.

“Breathe, baby,” Steve says, rocking forward a little harder and Tony forces himself to draw in a great shaking breath, and then snaps like a rubber band. The air all rushes back out of him as a wailing moan and he writhes against the sheets, like he can’t decide if he wants to press closer or try to wiggle away and either way he’s caught in place by Steve’s giant cock spearing him open. “That’s right sweetheart,” Steve breathes out, thumbs stroking over the soft skin behind Tony’s knees, “so fuckin’ gorgeous Tony, so sweet for me.”

“Please,” Tony moans, rocking his hips up and then whimpering when Steve slides deeper, bright little burst of aching pleasure shooting up his spine, and he’s so close, so close to tumbling over that ledge. “Please, Steve, I can’t- I need, please-“

“Shh,” Steve shushes and when Tony pries his eyes open again it’s to the sight of Steve watching him through heavy lidded eyes, long lashes fanned across his cheeks and stealing what little breath Tony has left. “Just relax, sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you,” He says, smirking a little wider when he notices Tony watching him back him. Then he pushes Tony’s knees up higher, nearly folds him half while Tony just groans weakly, and starts to withdraw. Slowly.

It’s like being turned inside out in the best possible way, all Tony is aware of is every single nerve ending that Steve’s cock drags over as he pulls out, leaves Tony achingly empty, until it’s just the very tip of his cock holding Tony open. Tony whines when he just pauses there for a second, unable to tear his gaze away from Steve’s gorgeous, smug little smirk. When Steve starts pressing back in, just as horribly slow, Tony moans the entire time because it burns, it’s like being broken open all over again and it’s amazing.

“Fuck,” Tony gasps as Steve’s hips settle against his ass again, blinking slow and a little dazed because holy shit he can’t feel his limbs. Or maybe that’s not right, maybe he just can’t feel anything other than the bright bursts and slow ache of pleasure spreading through his entire body. His next breath comes out right on the edge of a sob, choked and wet as Steve starts to withdraw again. “Oh, f-fuck-“

“Yeah, look at you,” Steve groans, his pace speeding up only ever so slightly as he pulls out and then pushes in, in, in. “Barely even know what to do with yourself. ‘S that more than you can stand, baby? Or d’you want me to fuck you for real?”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” Tony moans out instantly, instinctually, because oh holy shit that’s right there’s more and he has completely lost control over his mouth as he gasps out “god, Steve, please, please honey I need you-“

“Then breathe, Tony,” Steve growls and shoves Tony’s knees nearly to his chest when he tries to arch up, tries to force Steve to move faster. Tony sucks in an obedient breath, entire body trembling, and Steve rewards him by snapping his hips forward hard, forcing Tony open and punching a loud groan from his chest.

Tony can only nod, dragging in breath after whining breath as Steve rocks his hips a little faster, out and then in, out and then in. Tony is melting, another wave of heat spreading through him every time Steve’s cock slowly pushes back into him, spreading him wide and pressing so fucking deep.

“There you go, you feel that baby? How fuckin’ easy you take me?” Steve asks, stroking his hands up the back of Tony’s thighs as he picks up his rhythm enough to have Tony moaning helplessly on every steady thrust. “Loosenin’ up so good for me, you’re so fuckin’ perfect Tony, knew you would be,” he continues on an almost dreamy sigh, then digs his fingers into Tony’s inner thighs hard and says “‘m gonna fuck you hard now, baby. Gonna break you open, take you apart. You ready for that?”

Fuck, Tony can’t imagine more, feels like he’s already shattering apart into warm shards of pleasure with every roll of Steve’s hips, but he nods dumbly because if there is more than fuck yes he wants it. Steve’s next thrust lives up to his promise, slamming into him hard, all the way in one smooth slide that has Tony screaming, head snapping back while stars burst behind his eyelids and sparks fly across his skin. And then Steve doesn’t stop, slams into him again and again in a brutal rhythm that knocks every single thought right out of Tony’s head, using his full body weight to hold Tony curled down around himself as he fucks down into him. And still, Steve keeps fucking talking.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He demands, like Tony could possibly have the breath or the brainpower to answer that right now, like Tony’s constant stream of moans isn’t answer enough. “You want it harder? Want me to make you feel it for a week? Feel me every time you breathe?”

The words register dimly, every one of them just another fission of heat down Tony’s spine, settling heavy in his gut, winding him tighter and tighter until Tony doesn’t know how he hasn’t already snapped. Until he can feel his orgasm building in his eyes and everything is too much and not enough all at once, every inch of him filled with agonizing pleasure, right at the edge and unable to fall and his next breath comes out a sobbing, desperate moan and Steve falters a little before Tony’s needy whine urges him on again.

“‘S that a good thing? You good, baby?” Steve asks, finally sounding breathless, hips slamming against Tony’s ass in time with Tony’s wet groans and when Tony just nods weakly he huffs. Then he smirks, wicked enough that it forces a sob out of Tony all on it’s own, before leaning back enough that’s it’s just the head of his cock fucking in and out of him, not nearly enough. “Go on Tony,” he insists in a low voice, smirk widening and his eyes dark, “tell me how it feels, tell me what you’re feelin’ sweetheart.”

Tony just gapes at him for a minute, mouth already hanging open around non-stop moans, because Steve wants him to use words right now?! Tony is pretty sure he’s drooling, a little bit, his eyes wet and his cock leaking constantly against his own stomach and Steve wants him to use words?! It’s obvious Steve isn’t going to give in though, keeps his thrusts infuriatingly shallow until Tony gathers all the brain power he possibly can and finally manages to keen out “Steve-“

“Damn straight, you feel me,” Steve growls and slams back into him, grinding in deep before resuming his fast and hard rhythm. He finally shifts one of his hands from Tony’s thigh, instead circling the base of Tony’s dick with his clever fingers and oh, oh that’s too much, too much and perfect and Tony can’t believe he didn’t think of that himself, entire body clenching up tight and Steve feels so fucking huge inside him. “God- fuck that’s so good,” Steve groans, thrusts going uncoordinated as he fucks into Tony harder, fucks the air straight out of his lungs. “Now come for me Tony,” he demands, dragging his fingers up Tony’s cock in one smooth pull and grinding in deep.

Tony comes so hard he sees the big fucking bang, lights and colors and goddamn sounds bursting behind his eyelids as he writhes in Steve’s hold, forces Steve to shove him back down or risk being knocked away. And apparently the orgasm loosens his tongue, because with every electric wave of pleasure that rushes though him Tony moans and sobs out and string of “oh, o-oh fuck, Steve, Steve-“

And Steve just fucks him through it, drives himself into Tony’s clenching body until Tony is reduced to breathy gasps, his chest hitching and streaked in his own come. “God that’s pretty, such a fuckin’ sight, knew you’d be so gorgeous, fuck- Tony-“ And then Steve presses into him, deep, so deep, and comes with a drawn out moan, thick cock twitching and pulsing and sending an all new shock of pleasure through Tony’s overwhelmed system.

Tony isn’t sure how long they stay like that, frozen except for the way they’re panting for breath, but all too soon Steve is pulling away, pulling out entirely and petting at Tony’s thigh when he lets out a pitiful, sniffling whine. Steve tugs the pillow out from beneath him and Tony makes another sound he’s not proud of as he’s finally allowed to sprawl out flat again. He opens his mouth, probably to say something along the lines of ‘holy shit’ again, because that hasn’t been said enough, when Steve beats him to it.

“So perfect, you’re so damn perfect Tony,” he breathes out, leaning in over Tony again and using one hand to brush the sweat-slicked hair off of Tony’s forehead. He leans down enough to drop a sweet kiss to Tony’s slack lips before disappearing from view again and Tony feels the bed shift as Steve moves away, apparently still full of energy somehow.

Tony is left sprawled out and staring blankly at the ceiling, every single inch of him aching deliciously, feeling fucked open and used and still a little confused, honestly. “Holy shit,” he whispers to the ceiling, blinking slowly and he probably shouldn’t be so turned on still, shouldn’t be getting more turned on by the fact that he feels hollowed out, sloppy and loose and oh god his stomach is still a mess of arousal and what is happening?

It forces a groan out of him when Steve hops back onto the bed, shifting Tony’s poor abused body, but he’s immediatly appeased when Steve leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet. Steve has apparently fetched a washcloth, what with his having full feeling in his legs, because he uses it to start gently wiping at Tony’s chest between deep, lingering kisses. Tony is trying really hard to ignore his cock’s attempts to make a comeback as Steve’s attention trails down his stomach, tries to swallow down the needy groan that wants to rise in his throat.

Steve thoroughly ruins that when he drags the washcloth down the crease of Tony’s thigh, breath warm against Tony’s lips when he asks “You leakin’ me yet, baby?” Steve just smirks as Tony jerks and groans, cock twitching and yep, look at that, he’s half hard and Steve is some kind of wizard. “Bet you are,” Steve continues, as if he isn’t giving Tony a crisis over here, “fucked you open so wide, bet I could still slide back in so easy.”

“Steve, what the fuck-“ Tony groans, hips twitching as his cock gives another near-painful throb. Steve lets the washcloth brush over his cock as he pulls it away and Tony doesn’t even try to contain his pitiful whine that escapes him. “How are you even- are you trying to kill me?”

“Does that mean you’re not ready for round two?” Steve asks, innocent smile in place again as he tosses the washcloth away and trails his fingers down Tony’s chest but oh, Tony is not falling for that face again, he is not fooled.

“You are a danger, a true menace to society,” Tony tells him seriously, finally convinces his arms to move so he can cup Steve’s lying little face in his hands and pull in him for another kiss. There’s no denying the fact that Tony’s cock is twitching back to life against his thigh, knot in his stomach twisting up again every time Steve’s fingers brush over his skin and finally Tony drops his head back against the bed with a groan. “I mean I’m like half dead and I think I pulled something but yeah, do your worst you freaky little fuck.”

Steve’s smile immediately goes wicked again, and Tony points a finger at him, fully prepared to semi-seriously accuse him of being possessed, but Steve cuts him off by wedging both hands under Tony’s back and flipping him onto his side with one great heave and then manhandling Tony over onto his front. It’s less graceful than it could be, considering Tony is still mostly just a useless pile of limbs, but soon enough he’s sprawled out, another pillow propping up his chest and shoulders enough to let him breathe and Tony isn’t even sure where it came from but he’s not complaining.

“What the fuck,” Tony says again, because the question hasn’t been put out there quite enough yet, and Steve is laughing quietly as he shoves Tony’s legs together and straddles his upper thighs. Tony crosses his arms under his head, turns enough that he can look up at Steve over his shoulder as he says “no I’m serious, you- oh- oh fuck-“

“What was that sweetheart?” Steve asks and Tony can hear his evil little smirk, but Tony is too busy groaning wordlessly to call him on it as Steve’s fingers dig into his asscheeks again, spreading him open. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs, presses Tony’s cheeks together before spreading them wide again and Tony gasps as he feels come and lube start sliding down his crack, “so fuckin’ gorgeous, can’t wait to draw you like this, all fucked out and tired, wet an’ open an’ still aching for it.” He slides his hands inwards, until his thumbs just barely press against the edges of Tony’s sore hole, and then when Tony tries to arch up into it he presses a little harder and asks “wanna know what you look like baby?”

“God no,” Tony groans, clenching his teeth and whining when Steve’s continues to just barely tease him open, and then finally manages to add “I still can’t believe I’m not dead.” Steve’s soft laugh sends another bolt of heat down Tony’s spine, settles low in his gut and makes his half-hard cock twitch, pushes another pitiful moan out of Tony’s chest that only gets louder as both of Steve’s thumbs press into him with a glorious, burning pressure.

“You’re fine, Tony,” Steve shushes him, still laughing a little as he spreads his fingers, prying him open and adding “you’re perfect. Can’t even believe how perfect you are. An’ so damn pretty, fuck.” He just moves with it as Tony tries to arch up against him again, laughs when Tony whines at the feel of Steve’s cock shifting up along his crack. “What’s your hurry, baby? You feel empty without me?” Steve asks, smirking again as he presses just a little closer and the head of his cock nudges against Tony’s stretched rim.

Tony can only groan in frustration because he does, feels broken open and hollowed out and he’s burning and Steve is so close. “Steve,” he whines, tries to arch up again and shivers all over when the head barely presses into him, kicking the low simmer in Tony’s core into high fucking gear. Tony’s cock is quickly filing up again, trapped between his stomach and the sheets, every inch of him still tingly with oversensitivity, and it leaves him gasping out “god- fuck- Steve, please, I-“

“I know what you need, sweetheart,” Steve says, voice deceptively gentle considering he chooses that moment to start pressing his way into Tony’s body again. And fuck it hasn’t even been that long but it still burns as Steve sinks into him again, one smooth slide that forces all the air out of Tony’s lungs in a keening groan.

As soon as Steve’s hips press up against his ass he starts withdrawing again, and Tony doesn’t try to stop the sob that drags out of him. “Steve, oh my god-“ Tony has to pause and let out a strangled moan as Steve slides all the way free only to immediatly thrust back in, all the way, so fucking deep, and finally he manages to whine out “oh, fuck, honey- that, ah, t-that feels so good.”

“You feel good,” Steve groans back, hands still tight on Tony’s ass as he speeds up his thrusts, cock shoving in deep and all Tony can do is try to arch up into each one, let the force of them shift him against the mattress. “God, you’re so- so fuckin’ amazing Tony,” Steve continues and when Tony forces his eyes open, not even sure when they closed, it’s to the sight of Steve watching avidly as he fucks into Tony over and over, eyes dark and face flushed. That alone has Tony’s gut clenching hard, another weak sob escaping him even as Steve groans out “openin’ up so perfect, like you were made for me, made to take my cock an’ wrap around me so tight.”

“Steve,” Tony moans again, because that’s about the only word he knows anymore, just Steve Steve Steve. Every thrust drives Steve’s giant cock back into him and every time it feels impossibly huge, filling up everywhere inside him until Tony doesn’t know anything but Steve and the aching pleasure of his own cock dragging against the sheets. When Steve glances up, meets his eyes, Tony’s entire body tightens up and his breath hitches in his chest.

“Look at you, baby,” Steve breathes out, hips snapping forward a little harder, a littler faster, “wish you could see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, how gorgeous you take it.” His fingers dig into Tony’s ass a little harder and then his gaze flicks up, to something just over Tony’s shoulder, and a wicked smile spreads across his face even as he pants for breath. “You wanna hand me that, sweetheart? From the nightstand?” He asks, jerking his chin up a little, and then slows his thrusts until Tony groans in frustration.

There’s a digital camera sitting on Steve’s nightstand. It’s an older model, probably barely has video recording, and a hot flush runs though Tony’s entire body because oh, that is an idea. Still, Tony had kind of promised himself no more leaked sex tapes after his early twenties, and yeah he trusts Steve, but he’s trusted the wrong people before. His hesitation must show on his face, despite the way his fingers are already twitching towards the nightstand, because Steve’s hands on him gentle slightly, thumbs stroking over Tony’s skin.

“You don’ have to,” he says quickly, thrusts still slow and steady and mind-melting, “but I promise I won’t get your face, an’ you can take the fuckin’ thing with you if you want. I just-“ he pauses again, drives himself into Tony a little harder, drags in a ragged breath and then says “just want you to see this, want you to see how perfect you are. How gorgeous you look all stretched around me.”

Tony’s face is burning, gut twisted up tight and every slow roll of Steve’s hips just drives him higher. Steve is clearly waiting for some kind of an answer, keeps his thrusts slow even as Tony tries desperately to arch up against him, chokes out a couple more wet pleading sounds. And the thing is Tony wants it, still a little bit can’t believe he can take it and yeah he kind of wants to see that for himself, wants it so bad he suddenly can’t think of any reason not to.

“Okay,” Tony says around another jagged moan, nodding dazedly as he reaches out a shaking hand. He has to actually wiggle himself free of Steve’s cock before he can reach the nightstand, whining pitifully, pushing himself up just a little until he can finally hook one finger through the loop of the camera. “There, happy?” Tony grumbles, collapsing down flat again, dropping the camera so he can bury his burning face in his arms. “You’re a kinky fuck, you know that,” Tony can’t help adding breathlessly, shaking with anticipation and overstimulation and a million other things as Steve shifts up against him again, “can’t believe you’ve been hiding this all this time. Under your nice boy face.”

“Maybe you just never asked,” Steve says reasonably, and Tony is dimly aware of the click of old camera buttons but it’s incredibly unimportant compared to Steve’s cock pressing against him, teasingly light against his hole. Tony presses his face harder into the sheets to try and smother his needy moan, arching his back as sharply as he can and god Tony can feel the way he’s trying to clench around the head of Steve’s cock, trying to pull him back inside. “There you are, baby, need it so bad, don’t ya?” Steve asks, voice low, “now open up for me sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” Tony gasps as Steve sinks into him again, wet and easy, still so overwhelming and aching and fantastic. Steve’s come is still leaking out of him with every thrust, sliding all the way down to Tony’s balls and fuck the feeling of it has Tony shaking, only gets worse when Steve pulls all the way out before pressing back into him. Steve continues like that until Tony can’t take it, until he’s moaning and whining and sobbing into his folded arms and he finally manages to choke out “please, please just- god, just fuck me, Steve-“

Steve laughs softly and then thrusts in hard, grinding in deep for a second before restarting his pace of quick, brutal snaps of his hips that force his cock in deep and it has Tony wailing, trying to push himself back into it even as he’s shoved back and forth against the mattress. Tony’s orgasm is building hot and fierce in his gut, spreading up his spine and through his entire body with every drag of his pinned cock against the sheets, every drag of Steve thick and insistent inside him.

Steve has gone suspiciously silent, even as he continues fucking Tony with deep shoves of his hips, only letting out the occasional gasp or breathy groan. When Tony dares to crane his head around to look over his shoulder again it’s to find that Steve’s eyes are fixed avidly on the screen of the camera, held just above his navel and pointed down at where he’s working himself in and out, in and out, in and out of Tony’s body.

He looks up, almost like he can sense Tony watching, and Steve’s grin is a little bit goofy and a whole lot unfairly sexy. “Want to see it baby?” He asks, voice low and rough and sending hot shivers all up and down Tony’s spine, “want to see how perfect you are, how perfect you open up for me?”

Tony can only manage a shaky nod, another whine escaping him, and then Steve is leaning down across his back. Steve plants one bony elbow in the mattress next to Tony’s shoulder and his thrusts go short and deep, forcing a guttural groan out of Tony’s chest as he presses deeper. There’s the soft click of Steve hitting a few buttons on the camera with his free hand, and then he rests his chin on Tony’s shoulder and holds it down so Tony can see the screen.

“F-fuck,” Tony can’t help gasping at the sight of his own hole, swollen and loose and leaking come, and he clenches up instuctially only to groan when it makes Steve feel impossibly bigger inside him. Tony’s breath rushes out of him entirely as he watches Steve’s cock start pressing into him, watches the way his own body spreads almost eagerly and a shudder wracks through Tony’s entire body because holy fuck seeing it with his own eyes really drives home just how huge Steve’s monster cock is, how wide Tony has to spread to let him in, the way Steve’s come leaks out of him as he presses in deeper.

“Yeah,” Steve groans, “fuckin’ gorgeous, aren’t ya? So perfect, feel so fuckin’ good when you clench up around me just- like- that-“ Steve punctuates the last couple words by slamming his hips into Tony’s ass, cock pressing in so deep that every thrust knocks a loud moan out of Tony’s chest.

“Steve, Steve-“ Tony gasps out and he’s not even sure if he’s trying to beg or just wants to say it, needs some kind of release from the inescapable pressure building inside him. With every deep thrust he clenches up a little harder around Steve’s thick cock, until Steve is mostly just grinding into him, pressing deep, deep, and Tony is seconds away from coming with just the friction of the sheets against his cock and Steve moving huge inside him, making a home for himself under Tony’s skin and breathing hot against Tony’s shoulder. “Fuck,” Tony moans, squeezing his eyes shut and he’s so close, every inch of him on fire, “god, Steve- ugh-“

Tony cuts off with a startled grunt as two of Steve’s fingers shove between his lips, deep enough that they barely tickle the back of his throat, calloused fingertips pressing down hard against his tongue and Tony's next moan comes out extra wet. “Open your eyes, Tony,” Steve says, low and rough and right against his skin, and Tony whines even as he pries his eyes open again.

The noise that bursts out of Tony might be embarrassing, if he could focus on anything but the fact that he’s burning alive because the camera is right there in front of his face, Steve’s fingers hooked in his mouth pinning him in place and all Tony can do is watch as on the video Steve’s massive cock sinks into his stretched hole. Over and over and over again, splitting him open wide in a slow, deep rhythm thats a complete opposite to the way Steve is currently fucking into him in short, brutal strokes. Tony’s every breath comes out wet and choked, knocked out of him with every rough shove of Steve’s hips, every press of Steve’s cock so goddamn deep inside him. All Tony can manage is a couple muffled groans and whines, drool sliding down his chin as Steve’s fingers press deeper into his mouth, stroking over his tongue before a third finger joins the rest, prying his mouth open wide as Tony moans and sobs.

Steve’s breath is hot on the curve of Tony’s neck as he says “look, baby, keep watching. Look how perfect you are, look how much you love it.” Tony’s entire body has been reduced to constant sparks of pleasure, every muscle pulled tight enough to snap, and he chokes as Steve’s fingers press deeper into his throat. “That’s right sweetheart, so damn pretty when you’re right at the edge, clench up so tight for me. Now let me feel you fall apart on my cock, let me have it,” Steve drags his lips over the curve of Tony’s shoulder, leaving a line of sharp bites in his wake, and then growls “now, Tony.”

If Tony had the breath he’d be screaming, instead all he can do is let out a high, breathless whine as he finally, finally hits the breaking point. It’s like he’s dying, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure rushing through him, so sharp it almost hurts. It leaves him thrashing and writhing, working his tongue against Steve’s fingers as Steve just fucks him through it, driving him higher and higher until Tony finally comes with a hurt sound, deep in his chest, spilling against the sheets and his own stomach as his cock throbs over and over until he thinks it’ll never end.

Tony’s pretty sure he actually blacks out a little bit, just for a second there, drifts back to awareness slowly with his entire body tingly and only dimly aware of the wet, choked moans spilling out of his mouth as Steve continues fucking into him. Steve has finally let the camera fall away, both hands braced on Tony’s shoulders, throwing his entire weight into it as he slams into Tony again and again and again. “Ste-eve,” Tony whines out, voice slurred and still twitching as every deep press of Steve’s cock inside him sends another spark of pleasure-pain up his spine, his own cock aching as Steve presses him down into the soaked sheets.

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve groans and his breath hitches in his chest, fingers digging into Tony’s skin, hips jerking forward as he presses himself in as deep as he can get and then just grinds there while Tony moans and shakes, inner muscles fluttering and clenching around Steve’s cock. “So good baby, so prefect, so- oh, fuck-“ Steve’s words trail off into a long moan, cock throbbing as he comes.

Tony gasps again, clawing at the sheets because fuck he can feel that, feel every pulse as Steve fills him up again, slick and filthy and when he grinds against Tony the sound it makes is sloppy and obscene, has Tony whining and gritting his teeth as his cock tries to give another impossible twitch.

When Steve collapses down across his back Tony gives the requisite grumble of complaint, but Steve isn’t actually that heavy, and it’s actually kind of nice to have his steady weight spread across him, helps keep Tony grounded as he tries to catch his breath. It also takes an embarrassingly long time for Tony to realize that the ringing sound he keeps hearing is not in fact all in his head. It’s his phone, still in the pocket of his pants, laying abandoned near the headboard where Steve must have tossed them.

The ringing stops, only to immediately start up again, and Tony finally works up the energy to whine out “make it stop. Kill it with fire.” The words come out muffled, his face still smashed into the wet sheets, but Steve must hear him anyways because he lets out a soft huff of laughter.

“It’s your phone,” Steve points out, voice rough and lips moving against Tony’s skin as he speaks, sending another rush of shivers down Tony’s spine to settle warm in his gut and oh god, he might actually die like this.

He tries to ignore the ringing in favor of just soaking up the feeling of Steve warm against him, still buried inside him, but after the fourth time it starts ringing Tony finally lets out an annoyed groan and starts blindly reaching out in the direction of the sound. He managed to hook his fingers into the denim, and finally lifts his head again as he starts dragging the jeans closer. It takes a bit of fumbling to actually dig out his phone, fingers still stupid and sluggish, and he is one hundred percent planning on just turning the damn thing off before he sees the name on the video call request.

Steve must be watching over his shoulder, because he makes a stuttered noise of protest, but it’s too late because Tony is already hitting the ‘answer call’ button and saying “Rhodey. I just had a religious experience.”

Rhodey’s expression on the screen goes from surprised to scandalized to resigned so fast that Tony can’t help a soft laugh, and in the little corner screen he can see the way Steve drops his head to hide his suddenly red face in Tony’s shoulder. And damn, yeah, looking at himself Tony can admit that he looks wrecked, face flushed and hair a mess, and there’s really no way he looks anything other than fresh fucked.

”Hello Tony,” Rhodey says with a sigh, in the long suffering tone of a best friend who has already seen way, way to much to be surprised anymore, “I thought we had a long talk about how normal people don’t answer the phone in the middle of sex.”

“Shows what you know, we’re already done,” Tony says smugly, and tries really hard to ignore the way his stomach gives a little dip when Steve makes a soft, considering noise, like maybe they’re not. “You’re the one who kept calling, what was I supposed to do, not answer the call of my platypus?” Tony asks with a wide grin, forcibly dragging his mind back to the conversation and away from that fact that he might actually die, and what a way to go.

“Yes, for the record, that is exactly what I want you to do,” Rhodey says flatly, then his eyes shift over Tony’s shoulder and he raises one eyebrow, nodding a little as he says “Rogers.”

It’s only then that Tony belatedly remembers oh right, they’ve only met maybe twice, and Steve is still in that phase where he’s mildly terrified of Rhodey. It’s adorable. It also means that Steve is probably not prepared for full ‘Tony and Rhodey’s No Boundaries Experience,’ although in Tony’s defense, he knows for a fact that he’d warned Steve on several occasions. Not his fault if Steve didn’t believe the severity of the situation.

“Hey, uh- nice to see you again,” Steve finally says, red little face tipping up just enough to look at the phone again and that is not fair, how is he so adorable even with his half-hard cock still buried deep inside Tony? Looking all sweet and innocent, like he’s not a filthy, well-hung freak? But oh, Tony is not fooled anymore. Tony knows.

Rhodey gives Steve another nod, and he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s amused but Tony sees right through him too, then turns his attention back to Tony and says “I’m hanging up on you now. I don’t even remember what I needed but I know it wasn’t to get up close and personal with your sex life again. I thought we left that behind when we graduated.”

“It’s like you don’t even want to hear about my religious experience!” Tony protests with a laugh and then has to bite down a noise that tries to rise in his chest when it causes him to clench up and Steve’s cock gives a dangerous throb. Still, Tony isn’t going to let a little thing like that rob him of the opportunity to annoy two of his favorite people all in one go, so Tony says “I saw the face of god and it’s Steve Rogers.”

“Tony!” Steve protests, face scrunching up the way it does when he’s torn between being embarrassed and smugly flattered.

“Please keep your newfound religion to yourself,” Rhodey says, but he’s smirking and distinctly not hanging up. Because if there’s one thing Rhodey loves more than hanging up on Tony for totally valid reasons, it’s putting anyone new Tony starts dating through the ‘friend approval’ gauntlet.

“No you don’t understand, I have been ruined for all other dick. I am a ruined man,” Tony continues brightly while Steve makes more protesting noises into his shoulder and Rhodey sings loud and off-key to try and drown him out. Tony is nearly shouting by the time he finishes with “listen, no listen! Rhodey listen, that thing is a club, it nearly broke me! I haven’t tried to stand yet but I legitimately don’t know if I can!”

“Stop,” Steve groans, pressing his face down into Tony’s shoulder again.

“This from the man who claimed he was going to hang my ass on the mantle!” Tony says, because he has not forgotten about that, thank you very much. He’s going to be hearing that promise in his dreams and he’s still torn between hoping to god that Steve doesn’t actually do that, and really kind of hoping that he does.

Steve groans louder while Rhodey sputters, and Tony laughs right up until he remembers why that’s a bad idea, can’t quite contain the whine that works its way up his throat. “I’m still gonna,” Steve mutters, just loud enough for Tony to hear him, nipping slightly at Tony’s skin, “gonna do you up in watercolor.”

“Yeah, I’ll call back later,” Rhodey says and apparently he heard that too, whoops, “Tony, good luck with... all of that. Rogers, try to keep him out of trouble.”

“Hmm, no,” Steve says, all warm and fond as he noses at the base of Tony’s skull, and Rhodey raises an eyebrow that means he’s secretly impressed. Score one of Tony’s new boyfriend.

“I still love you the most sour patch!” Tony says happily, lifting his other hand enough to wiggle his fingers in an lethargic wave.

“Where does that put me?” Steve asks, and unless Tony is very much mistaken there’s a hint of a growl creeping into his voice. Like he’s trying not to get all possessive right now, and isn’t Tony just learning all sorts of fun new things today.

“Eh, you’re somewhere in the top twenty,” Tony says flippantly, and then lets out a squawk that’s half delight and have actual surprise as Steve bites the back of his neck hard. “Ah, help, I’m under attack!”

“You deserve it,” Rhodey says flatly, still not hanging up, and Steve lets out soft huff of laughter against Tony’s neck before pulling away.

“If you don’t want to be attacked, then stop being a brat,” Steve says matter of factly and drops a light kiss to the skin he’d just had his teeth in.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Tony whines obnoxiously, wide grin on his face, kicking his feet up so his heels knock against Steve’s back, “you’re not my daddy.” Tony is kind of aiming for Steve to bite him again, and then maybe Rhodey will actually hang up on them, and he and Steve can do some more making out. Maybe even figure out if they can defy the laws of nature and logic and go for a third round.

That is, sort of, what Tony gets, Steve’s teeth sinking into his neck again, harder. He also gets Steve’s cock giving a hard twitch inside him, Steve’s hips snapping forward hard and forcing a stuttering gasp out of Tony’s chest. He also gets Steve’s voice, low and fierce against the back of his neck as he growls out “you wanna fuckin’ bet.”

“Hnng,” Tony says intelligibly, because oh hello then. He barely has the brain power to thumb at the ‘end call’ button and toss his phone as far away as possible, he does have some concept of bounderies after all, and he’s only dimly aware of the dull thud of it hitting the ground. He’s far too busy dropping his head to the sheets again and groaning out “god, fuck- yes, try and prove it to me, daddy.”

Apparently Tony had not actually hung up before throwing his phone, because he barely hears Rhodey’s tiny voice shout ‘oh god my ears’ before the line actually goes dead. Tony has way better things to think about, though, like Steve’s lips moving across his neck, hips rolling against him, quickly filling cock spreading Tony wide again.

“Holy fuck,” Tony gasps, clawing at the sheets with fingers that are still shaking, “god- I take it back you’re definitely in the top five.”

“Wow, that’s a big jump, and here I’ve barely gotten started,” Steve says with a soft laugh, and then bites him again.

#my fic #stony #stevetony #superhusbands #i hear you liek filth #have some filth

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