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salstray · 1 year

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An Arrangement ((Ghost x Reader))

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Warnings: 18+ Content, NSFW, Smut, p in v, AFAB reader, established situationship, very little plot, also my first time writing x reader smut so let me know if its ass k thanks

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Summary: Ghost and Reader are co workers, of sorts. You work under Laswell, helping with intel and information while the boys are in the field. During the months you work with Ghost, you and him figure out an... arrangment that helps you both relax a little in the midst of all the chaos of war. When the job comes to an end, you give Ghost a letter and a choice. End it here or extend the stress relief beyond work. You get your answer when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night.

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Note: As I said before, first time writing x reader smut.... or really any smut at all! Usually I get to blushy and ashamed when I get to this point in a work, but this one wormed its way out into the pages anyway! Tell me if it sucks, K? Rad. Thank you!

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The letter is so professional, so clinical, it almost makes him laugh.

Your slanted handwriting against perfectly lined paper, calling this whole thing an 'arrangement' between the two of you. Like it was a trade deal or a transaction and not like he'd been fucking you stupid every time he got you alone. It was all for secrecy, he understood that, but it was still funny.

At the bottom of it all, the clipped and emotionless words and flowing business speak, was your address and your phone number.

In case you'd be interested in a continuation, it said. Ending in your name. Just the first one. The only hint anyone would have that this was anything other than work, should any unwanted eyes find their way onto this page. They wouldn't, Ghost was far too careful to let that happen, but still. The only slip you’d made.

It takes a surprising amount of courage to end up at your door. More, he feels, then it takes to stare down the barrel of a gun.

The apartment building is smaller than what he would have expected from someone with your salary, but he wasn't one to judge. His own flat was barely more than a shoebox. Just enough space to keep the walls from closing in when he stared at them too hard and enough to hold what few possessions he had to his name.

He's not sure if you'll be awake when he finally knocks. One glance at his phone tells him that much. Ghost had decided not to text you before he showed up, either. Somehow that felt more intimate than anything else. A trapdoor in his walls that he wasn't willing to address just yet. Or open.

When you appear through the doorway, he nearly collapses on the spot.

Your in a fucking skirt.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a shock but in all the months you'd worked together you'd always dressed practically, more or less. The leggings you favored would probably be considered less, but it was always trousers of some sort. Dress pants, a button down shirt, hair pulled back. Ready at a moment's notice, as you needed to be to survive in this life. A perfect mirror of Laswell. The person you worked under and the reason you two had met in the first place.

But here? Now? In your own home with the only danger being bad TV and loud neighbors you looked so much different.

You favored black in your style, something that drew Ghost in, something Johnny would relentlessly tease him about, and it showed even outside of work. The skirt was that color. Solid black, flowing gently around your thighs, topped with a simple forest green tank top with thin straps and no bra. Your hair was loose and your glasses were nowhere to be seen, leaving your eyes wide and shining.

The way you gasped snapped his gaze from your body, your thighs and your hips, up to your face.

"Simon?" You ask softly, like you weren't sure it was really him. Like you expected anyone else to show up in the dead of night with a skull print balaclava covering their face.

"Evenin', love."

You curl in on yourself. Bashful. Shy. Looking up at him through fluttering lashes, hands tucked up by your breasts. The way you always looked when he approached you with sinful intentions.

Heat pooled low in Ghost’s stomach as he leaned forward, his hands tucked away in his pockets, his eyes dark and heavy.

"Gonna invite me in?" He breathes, knowing damn well what his voice does to you when he speaks like that. The reaction in you was instant. The rapid blinks, the shaking breath. The little nod as you took a few steps back, opening the door wider to let his massive form through the frame. He steps inside slowly. Letting his eyes roam the walls and furniture. Cataloging every little knickknack and art piece and surface he'll be able to bend you over once he finally puts his hands on you.

Your voice draws his gaze back to you.

"I… I didn't think you'd show up," you say, trying to sound casual. Trying to sound like this was planned and not simply offered a few weeks ago with no reply given.

He doesn't give you one now, either. Instead he takes a step closer to you. Closing the distance in one swift motion, causing you to press your spine into the half wall that separates the kitchen from the living room. You're blinking again, trying to gather your thoughts as his hands settle on your waist, palms warm and fingers strong. Ghost’s digits press into your flesh as he hums and leans back, clearly enraptured by the outfit you chose for your quiet night in.

"Look good in this," he mutters. His right hand shifts, sliding lower over your thigh, just enough to slip under the skirt and start a slow, teasing trail back up to your leg.

"Y-you think?" You ask, biting your bottom lip when his hooded eyes meet yours.

"Yeah." His fingers slip up and behind you, pulling you forward, chest flush against his with his hand now cupping your ass. "I do. Think you should wear it more often."

He feels the shiver that rolls up your spine as he speaks. Smirks when your hands reach up to grab at his jacket. Pulls the hand still on your waist away just long enough to push back his hood and tug up the end of his mask. He settles it on your shoulder instead of your hip, however, and slides it up along your neck and into your hair, taking a fistfull and using it to tug your head back.

Your breathless gasp makes him rumble low in his chest. Something between a growl, a hum, and a grunt. Ghost leans forward, his tongue slipping through his lips and marking a wet trail up your pulse.

The little whine you let out makes him shudder and he sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth as his mouth reaches your jaw.

He'd never tell you, never admit it, but he missed this. Missed you. Your reactions, your sounds, the taste and feel of your skin. He'd been in this apartment for less than five minutes and already felt like he was gonna split apart at the seams if he didn't have his cock buried in you in the next two.

The next breath he takes is punctuated by a groan and he uses the hand on your ass to lift you off your feet. He lets the other take hold of your thigh to keep you steady as you make a noise of surprise and wrap your legs around his hips.

"Bed. Where?" Is all he says, his lips parted and panting against your cheek as he speaks.

Moments later your back is hitting the mattress. Ghost is already reaching under the skirt by the time you push yourself up onto your elbows, yanking away your panties and tossing them somewhere into the room. He crawls over you, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, lifting them into the air so your skirt flops up against your stomach, revealing your newly naked sex to him.

He groans again, low and slow, head tilting as his right hand slips away from your leg and down towards the slick heat that had been torturing you for hours.

"So wet already?" He teases. Ghost chuckles when his touch makes you jerk, his fingers just barely grazing your clit and making you whimper.

"I…," your gaze slips away from him, your flushed cheeks only getting hotter as you confess, "I've been… thinking about you… all day." A startled cry leaves you when he plunges two fingers in without warning. There was no resistance at all. Just a loud, wet noise as he slowly drags them back out and presses in again.

"Aww… thinkin' bout me? How sweet," he purrs, leaning in close to watch your face twist with pleasure. "To think that's all it takes to get you so worked up." Your eyes, which had twisted shut at the pleasurable stretch of his fingers, peel open just a bit to look at him. Plead with him. Beg him silently for more.

Luckily he's always been able to read you like a book. That's what led to this arraignment in the first place.

"Want more, love?" You whimper, nodding weakly. "Want my cock?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what, sweetheart?"

"Yes, sir."

You didn't take orders from him. He wasn't your superior in the field and, in all honesty, he was totally fine with that. There was no way he'd be able to keep focus with that sweet voice calling out to him. All it would take was one little 'sir' over the comms and he'd be done for. That's why he made you use it here. Where only he could hear it.

Both of his hands leave your body and you'd have protested if you didn't push yourself up farther to watch him work at his belt. In one fluid motion it joins your panties across the room and you sink your teeth into your lip to hide the moan that draws out of you. The sight of his dick, fully hard and already leaking, pulls another free. One you don't hide from him.

Ghost crawls over you again, tucking his thumbs into the straps of your tank top and pulling them down your shoulders. He tugs just far enough for your breasts to be freed. Another shiver rolls through you when he licks his lips.

"Simon," you whimper, reaching up to dig your fingers into his biceps. "Please." His newly shining mouth twitches into a smirk and he tilts his head for a moment, brows raising with the motion.

"Since you asked so nicely."

You'd hate how cocky he acted if he wasn't so fucking attractive and if his actual cock wasn't pushing into you.

Your eyes flutter shut again as you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as the solid heat of him fills you. Ghost takes the opportunity to slide his arms under you and pull you close, his face hidden in your shoulder, his breathing short and shallow as you stretch around him. It takes a few careful thrusts to get him all the way inside. Slow drags a few inches back, then a steady roll of his hips until his pelvis is pressed against yours.

"Ffffffuck, sweetheart… fuckin' hell-"

He only gives you a few short seconds before he's thrusting. Filling the room with the harsh slap of his skin on yours, the wet squish of your slick, and the echoing moans you can no longer contain.

"Si-Simon! Fu-ahhh! Fuck!"

He's not quiet either, to your surprise. In the past, you'd both been at risk of being caught. On base, hidden between paper thin walls, surrounded by other soldiers. Ghost's self control was honestly impressive, but he had to silence you in anyway he could. Either with his mouth on yours, his fingers down your throat, or just his palm slapped over your lips.

Yet here, in your own home, he's just as bad as you. Moaning freely, cursing and whining along with you, groaning deeply as he sucks at the soft skin of your throat. His teeth sink into your flesh and you clench around him, making him pull away with a gasp.

"Ffuuu… fuck… like that, do you?" He leans forward again, lower than before, leaving a harsh red mark over your collarbone.

One of his arms wiggles free from under you and his fingers appear at your clit, making you nearly sob at the sudden friction. Before you know it your panting and moaning, nearly falling to pieces as heat coils in your abdomen, threatening to toss you over the cliff and straight into oblivion.

You grunt, gasp, curl your legs up around Ghost's waist, then throw your head back with a hoarse cry, eyes shut tight as you cum.

Ghost only stops for a handful of seconds. Long enough to lean himself back on his knees with a grunt, his hands taking hold of your hips. Then, before you've even come back down to earth, he's fucking you again. Deep, hard strokes that have your already muddy thoughts washing away in bliss.

Your orgasm drags on and on as he chases his own high, leaving you a weak, whimpering mess as he manhandles you back into his thrusts. Not much later, he's curling over you again, his eyes clenched shut and lips parted. He rolls his his again, two, three more times. Then his shoulders shake and he moans lowly, his face suddenly slack with relief. You finally fall limp a few trembling seconds later. Utterly boneless beneath him.

The pair of you stay there for a while.

Ghost lets himself lean into you, laying mostly on his side, still buried to the hilt in the mess you both made. One of his arms found its way under you again, holding you close to his chest as he breathes slowly and evenly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was asleep. But you did know better and you grunted softly as you tried to shift your legs.

"Alright, love?" He calls softly, his head raising just enough to look at you through the darkness. He hadn't turned the light on when he'd carried you in here. It would have wasted time.

"Y-yeah… feel like jelly…" you say, still sounding and feeling breathless. You swallow, throat dry, and twist in his grasp, making him groan quietly as his soft cock finally slips free of you.

He twists as well, moving you until you're curling against his chest, sweaty and sticky and satisfied.

"Gonna be able to make it to round two?" He asks teasingly.

You groan. "There's gonna be more?" It's playful. You know perfectly well how much it takes to satiate him. Ghost chuckles and you can't fight back the grin that bunches your cheeks in response.

"I just got here, sweetheart. Maybe if you hadn't worn a skirt…"

"Maybe if you'd given me a warning I could have changed." You wouldn't have, both of you know that. "My number was on that page too, Riley. Use it next time."

You couldn't see the way his jaw clenched when you said that. The way his eyes shifted through the shadows, wondering… thinking… considering the consequences.

Luckily, your hand trailing down his chest, over his jacket, pushes thoughts ever present fears away.

"You should take this off."

"You just wanna see my tits." He speaks before he thinks and it makes you laugh. A full, bright laugh that he's never heard from you before. Not that there's much place for laughter when he's got a gun in his hands and you've got lives on the line.

It makes him smile. Just a little. Not where you can see. The sultry smirks and teasing grins were easy, this kind of smile was different. Softer. It's gone as you tilt your head back to beam at him, not a single worry behind your eyes.

"Well, you saw mine. It's only fair."

#Simon Ghost Riley #Ghost MW2 #Ghost MW #Ghost x Reader #Simon Ghost Riley x Reader #Modern Warfare 2 #Call of Duty #CoD #Cod MW 2 #god tags are exhausting aren't they-#Smut #Ghost x Fem!Reader #okay throwing it into the void and running K BYE

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astrogenica · 2 months

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being plural is honestly a wild experience because every time i think i understand whats going on in here i come to find out something even weirder than before and like. im not even mad at this point it's just like can someone just tell me what's going on instead of letting me piece it together on my own?? can somebody in here gimme a goddamn hand???? creepy ass motherfuckers doing shit in the background and whisper whispering in my ear until i Realize IS NOT AN EFFICIENT MEANS OF COMMUNICATION. USE YOUR WORDS SPEAK WITH YOUR WHOLE CHEST goddamn!

#yall dont have a problem being this loud when im trying to SLEEP i see how it is #don't even know who the fuck i am right now fuck you guys #all you bitches been in here so fucking long you didn't think to write me a fucking handbook or something #you know we're autistic you dumb sluts!!!#jfc #this shit is honestly exhausting #im sitting here tryna have a good time and yall are fuckin Scheming behind my back do you know how hurtful that is???#yall dont ever actually think about how i feel about any of this like you seriously think i can just take whatever you throw at me when *u*#think its the right time #not when im actually ready for it #GOD you're just like everybody else fuck you guys fuck you gguys SEVERELY #with a fucking cactus #admin tags:#text post #vent #venting #vent post #plural #plurality #arguing #i'm just so tired #i feel like knowing what's going on isn't a huge thing to ask yknow #communicating with me doesn't have to be so difficult #autism #i have it #i'm literally as direct as i can get #i don't know why you guys get so mad at me just asking for what i need #why do you keep playing this out #aren't you exhausted?#i am

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sprout-fics · 9 months

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OMEGAVERSE 141 MY BELOVED OH GOD IM GONNA THINK ABT UR WRITING ALL DAY

I do love this idea, so glad everyone enjoys this too!

Poly TF141 x Omega! Reader Headcanons

(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)

(Part Four: The First Heat)

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, Heat cycles, Comfort, SoapGaz, Slowburn

Masterlist

Your heat hits hard

It's not as bad as the one that nearly killed you, but to say it's uncomfortable would be an understatement

You don't notice it at first. You feel off, sure, but everyone has off days. You assume you just ate something bad at breakfast, shrug, and try to move on

As the day progresses you begin to wonder if you're coming down with something. You're parched, too warm, a little shaky. You think maybe it's a cold, that you'll just sleep it off

It isn't until you run into Price later that day that you realize

The scent of an alpha that's scent marked you in the past to help keep other away wafts across your senses, and before you can blink-

It sends you to your knees

Price is alarmed, and reaches for you, before he realizes exactly what's mixed in with your scent. You see his pupils dilatate, see his throat bob as he swallows, but he manages to haul you upwards and slowly helps you to your room

You're sluggish and hazy eyed by the time you get there, leaning your weight onto him fully as your legs refuse to cooperate. You try to apologize, and Price reminds you there's no need, that you can't help it, that he'll make sure you're safely put away

Yet he merely dumps you in your room and extracts himself before he can have a change of heart, quickly texts the others to inform them of the situation

You barely make it into bed, exhausted, feverish, muscles and joints aching. It doesn't take long for you to pass out

When you wake up, it's dark outside, your room is dim, and you feel damp, gross with sweat. Yet there's a little message on your phone from Gaz, letting you know there's a care package for you right outside the door

You manage to crawl over, open the door just enough to slide the box in. Your back presses to the door as you sit on the floor, eyeing the contents

Snacks, water, hygiene items, a little soap bar where someone has taken a blade to redundantly carve the word 'soap' into it, and a black dark hoodie with a scent so heavy that when you hold it to your face you moan.

You notice neither alphas has come to offer their assistance, and for that you're both glad and a little lonely about. The thought is shaken away as you stumble towards the shower, clean off, slide the hoodie on, eat and hydrate, and collapse back into bed

Maybe it won't be a bad heat, you think

You wake up and your world is on fire

There's only hot air as you gasp awake, clawing at your blanket, drenched in sweat, sheets soaked. Your skin itches, and you pull off the hoodie just to get a cool reprieve, only to drag it back on when the ache between your thighs clenches painfully

It feels like you're drowning, like your veins are molten, like you can barely breathe

And between your legs is a searing, pulsing emptiness that makes you clench around nothing, has you buck and gasp and whine in search of reprieve. Yet there's nothing to help. Not even the touch of your scent marked pillow, not even the smell of Ghost's hoodie or water or food

You manage to fumble for your phone, reach and text one single line

"He lp"

It's the middle of the night, you think they aren't awake, and after a few minutes you decide to fix this yourself, pulling yourself from bed towards a cold shower

You don't get far, legs collapsing under you the moment you stand. It's so much, and try as you may you can't seem to drag yourself very far, crying out in frustration and resorting to hauling a blanket from bed to curl on the floor

It's how Soap finds you, curled up and writhing in pain. You see his face float into view, ashen with concern, and still dressed in his sleeping clothes. You take one inhale and whine, arch your neck submissively because he smells faintly like Ghost, like Alpha.

It doesn't take long for him to help you into the bathroom, stick you in the shower with all your clothes on, and turn on the coldest water you can manage

"Yer burning up, hen'." He mutters, eyes cloudy with worry, a hand placed to your forehead. "Need tae cool you down."

He vanishes for a moment, and you whine until he comes back with a clean set of clothes

"Can you get dressed by yourself?" He asks, and you consider, shake your head

Soap is nothing less than a gentleman despite the fact he's already seen you naked before, manages to fumble you dry and get you into fresh clothes before helping you back into your room

It's there that you find Gaz, in the midst of changing your sweat damp sheets, bleary eyed but offering you a smile

You're considerably more relaxed by the time the two sergeants have you fed and hydrated, finally curled up between the both of them on your cot

They're soaked in Price and Ghost's scents, and it's enough to make the need between your thighs relax just enough for you to go limp between them

Your head is cloudy with lust, with need, swimming with low pulsing desire at bodies pressing into you on either side smelling like alpha

It makes you hiccup, tears forming in your eyes at wanting, needing, hoping for them as your blood thrums too warm in your veins, and your voice chokes on their names as if somehow you can summon them the quell the ache

You know, in some distant, logical part of your brain, that Price and Ghost are being more than decent about this, that even if you asked in this state they'd refuse you until your mind is clear

It doesn't stop you from being a whiny, needy, horny mess between the two men that smell like them. Your hips jerk automatically, seeking friction, even as a hand kneads the small of your back to try and soothe you into keeping still. it has the entirely opposite effect, makes your fangs pop out and a low, heady moan tumble past your lips

It aches

Yet then a large, firm hand grasps onto your nape, and you suck in an unsteady breath as someone who smells like an alpha scruffs you, making you automatically go limp and still

"Good omega." Soap purrs in your ear, and you shudder, whine, but remain pliant in his grip, wet eyelashes fluttering as a heavy fog of sleep descends upon you once more, safe in the arms of the two men you trust the most to keep you like this

#omegaverse cod #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #poly tf141 #modern warfare 2 #x reader #reader insert #omegaverse au

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winwintea · 19 days

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how dreamies would react to your first kiss

PAIRING ▸ bestfriend/friend!dreamies x reader

TAGS ▸ none, enjoy the fluff <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ requested by anon! reader + dreamies aren't in established relationship yet.

Mark Lee

Mark’s first kiss with you happens by accident. You were both hanging out in his place together, playing video games. Exhausted, you decided to rest your head on his shoulder, creating very little distance between your faces. So Mark gave into his internal instincts, placing his lips directly on yours, startling both you and himself, “Oh, I’m so sorry that is totally my fault… umm…” He quickly pulls away, embarrassed, but instead of being mad, you stare at him dead serious, “Mark Lee. Shut up and do that again.” His eyes widen at your words, but his face slowly relaxes into a bright smile. He gladly complies with your request, more than once.

Huang Renjun

Renjun had invited you out to his favorite cafe. You two were having such a fun time, before Renjun noticed a couple of crumbs near your lips. He inched a bit closer, squinted, and used his fingers to swipe them off. It was now or never. With your faces so close together, you had to take this chance. Taking a deep breath, you grab his face and lean in for the kiss. Renjun was expecting this however, and he reacted to the kiss immediately closing his eyes. When you finally pulled apart he stared at you breathlessly, “Did I tell you, that you’re beautiful?” His soft hands reach up to gently cup your cheek with the sweetest smile you had ever seen. God how you loved his smiles.

Lee Jeno

Jeno found himself in a quite embarrassing and stressful situation. He had taken you to the carnival, since none of your other friends wanted to go. In the blink of an eye you found yourselves on the ferris wheel. You sat together, no words being said, but the discomfort on his face was obvious. You grabbed his hand and gently squeezed it. Jeno looked down at you from the corners of his eyes, he smiled. "Are you nervous?" You asked him. Jeno nodded, feeling the embarrassment rushing to his cheeks. You pulled him in close, “Just focus on me, instead.” You both leaned in for the kiss, drunk on the smell of one another. When you two finally pulled apart, Jeno looked into your eyes sparkling. If this was what heaven felt like, he would be perfectly content to remain here forever.

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan was shocked. Not only had you repeatedly denied his affections for the past year, but you had also managed to evade his playful kisses as well. Then you did it yourself. It came at him out of nowhere, and he had little time to react. “You kissed me.” He paused, then repeated again, “You kissed me?” He stared at you in disbelief. You only grinned in response, giggling at his confusion. “Does this mean…?” Haechan looked at you nervously, but then his face eased after he saw your smile. He pointed to his lips, puckering them up, and leaning in once more, eyeing you with puppy dog eyes, “Again?” (his kiss was once again rejected.)

Na Jaemin

Jaemin had been waiting patiently for you to make a move on him. You two had been spending more time together than usual, and he hoped that the feeling was mutual, but didn’t want to make any assumptions. Then one day, Jaemin watched as you plopped yourself in front of him, stood up on your tippy-toes, and placed a quick and soft cheek on his lips. He returned the kiss, but not before wrapping his hands around your waist, and picking you up in a swift motion. You found yourself making a fuss and squirming around in his arms, but Jaemin ignored all your protests, placing butterfly kisses on your face, until his lips met yours in another, this time, soft and meaningful kiss.

Zhong Chenle

Chenle and you always bickered. You hated how arrogant he was at times. As much as you sometimes hated his guts, you couldn’t help but begin to start seeing the crazy tension you two had when arguing. Sometimes you just wanted to silence that loud mouth of his. That handsome, sometimes endearing, sometimes cocky grin. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. “If you hadn’t- mmh…?” You grabbed Chenle’s collar pulling him in quickly, and pressed your lips over his, silencing his protests. His eyes lit up in surprise, but you could feel his lips slowly turn into a smirk, as he kissed you back. “Took you long enough.”

Park Jisung

Jisung was comforting you, as you vented out all your frustrations to him, right in the middle of his living room floor. Jisung wasn’t sure why, but for some reason you always came to him when you wanted to vent. He was always bad with expressing things with his words, so you often found yourself buried into his arms, embraced in warm tight hugs. Today, Jisung was feeling a bit more bold. Bolder than usual. He placed his hand on your cheek and suddenly leaned in for a kiss. You felt your shoulders relax, and the tension you had from earlier started to release. He leaned in, pressing your head against his shoulders whispering in your ears, “I will always remain by your side. I will be here for eternity, just for you.” And somehow, through his love for you, he found the right words to say.

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dearhargrove · 1 month

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Hi there! I have an eddie diaz request please. I don't know if you've seen the boyfriend door lean on tiktok but I was thinking eddie either comes across it and tries it on reader to see if it works (reader is a bookworm) or he does it without knowing what it is and reader melts (in either scenario) and she explains and shows it to him and he says he'll have to do it more often? All cute fluffy and adorable if you can please. Thank you!!

summary Eddie finds out about the 'door frame lean' thing on tiktok and tries it on you.

word count 950

tags fluffy and a bit spicy, Chris!!, Eddie's a menace

a/n hope I did this request justice because I absolutely adore that idea! Need someone to do this for me? Also Eddie would most definitely do this at any chance after realising how it had you going crazy 😭 I used this tiktok as a reference by the way!

masterlist

You're sitting up against the headboard with your book in your hands and a glass of wine on the nightstand next to you, simply passing time until your boyfriend comes home from his 24 hour shift.

You're almost done with it when you hear the front door open and close, a bag being dropped on the floor and shoes messily discarded next to the shoe rack (it seems no matter how many times you get mad at him for not putting his shoes away he forgets it and repeats the same mistake).

Moments later you see him walk along the hallway to your shared bedroom. His hair is messy instead of combed back like it was this morning when he'd made sure to ask you if it looked good, and the exhaustion is clear on his face.

You close your book after putting the bookmark between the pages you were reading and look at him with a smile that he easily reciprocates.

“Rough shift?” you move off the bed and walk to lean against the door frame as he approaches. “Yeah. People are stupid,” you chuckle and he stops in front of you, reaching his left hand up and placing it on the door frame and easily leaning his head down to look at you.

You're entirely caught off guard, not sure whether to look into his eyes or focus on the fact that this position was very flattering on his biceps. You swallow nervously which he catches and tilts his head with a small smirk.

“What? Why do you look nervous, amor?” He asks huskily and puts his other hand on your waist. That's just about your last straw and you fluster and look away, “Uh, no, just- how was your shift?”

He laughs and lets go of the door frame to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer until he can reach your neck and bury his face in it. You're pretty sure he can feel your pulse being abnormally high from where he'd placed his head, so in hopes of not making him aware of how crazy this entire situation had you going you bury your hands in his hair and gently scratch his scalp. Something you knew would make him melt any time you did it.

He grunts and his arms tighten around your waist, fingers pressing into the middle of your lower back. “Fuck,” he mumbles, “That feels good.”

Your whole ruse to distract him backfired because he just kept getting more sexy and you're pretty sure he either knew exactly what he was doing or was totally unaware of the effect this whole interaction was having on you.

“Dad, you're home!” Chris distracts both of you and Eddie kisses your pulse point and squeezes your waist again before crouching down to lift Chris into his arms and hug him tight. “Hey, buddy. Aren't you supposed to be asleep? It's almost nine thirty.”

You watch them and take the moment to gather your wits again because, oh my god. You'll never be able to read about the door frame lean in a book again without thinking about this.

Later that night when you're both in bed, his head placed on your chest as he patiently waits for you to finish reading the chapter so you could play with his hair, he looks up at you, “I didn't actually believe that door frame thing would work.”

Your jaw drops and you look at him with furrowed brows, “What do you mean?”

“That.. what's it called? Booktok. Buck was talking about it because he thought it was funny and mentioned how I should know what that is since you read so much. I didn't so I looked it up. Who knew you'd fold so easily?” He teases and you glare at him in slight embarrassment and take your hand from his hair.

“Stop teasing me about it.” He laughs and shakes his head, “Never. You looked way too cute, though I almost got worried with how high your pulse was getting…”

You gasp and flick his forehead with your index finger, about to throw some insult at him when the door opens and Christopher stands in the doorway.

Eddie sits up and you put your book on the nightstand, “Chris? Everything okay, love?” You ask and he pouts. “Nightmare. Can I sleep here tonight?”

You look at Eddie with a worried expression and he slightly shrugs but scoots to the side to make space for the ten year old. He crawls into the middle of you and you pull the blanket up to his shoulders. He looks at you with big eyes and you smile, knowing what he wanted, before carding your hand through his hair. He hums happily and Eddie looks at you slightly offended, “He's stealing your attention.”

You snort and roll your eyes, “You can wait until he's asleep.” Chris grins happily at his father and then at you. “I'm cuter anyway,” Eddie gasps and you laugh as the two banter.

One look at the clock though and you're shushing them both with a forehead kiss, “Alright now, time to sleep.” Eddie looks happy with himself, taking that as him getting all your attention now and you raise one eyebrow, “You too.”

Chris giggles and then settles down, same as Eddie after he scowls at you. You click off the small lamp on your nightstand and see Chris already snoozing with Eddie watching him fondly.

Placing your hand in Eddie's hair instead you whisper ‘I love you’ which he repeats and puts his arm over Chris to put his hand on your hip, falling asleep not long after.

#eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz 911 #eddie diaz #ryan guzman x reader #ryan guzman #that door lean thing has me feral ngl

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ihadlife · 11 days

Text

Achilles' Heel

pairing: (aged up) pro hero!Bakugo Katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 10.2k

synopsis: You and Bakugo aren't dating, so you can't be really mad when he's toying with you. What you can be, though, is miserable. Especially when you get laid off from work. And to whose else's arms can you run into other than the person who's hurting you the most.

tags: 18+, adult content, fem!reader, fem gendered pronouns and pet names, angst, so much fucking angst, baby trapping, unprotected sex, dumbification, masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talking, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, impact play, unrequited love, reader and other people smoke, reader has crippling mommy issues and self-isolates, the worst possible decisions ever made at all times, toxicity contest between reader and Bakugo i guess

an: crossposted on ao3. reader makes decisions so bad i wanted to smack her head against concrete all the time. if you're reading this for the smut i suggest you skip this one, it's not centered around it. it was pain in the ass to write bakugo’s direct speech but if it doesn’t make sense from an accent standpoint i’m begging you let me know and i’ll adjust it. and as always, english is my second language so if you spot any mistakes or even typos pls let me know.

“I get that he was like… busy, and probably exhausted after, but he could’ve sent me a message at least, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve been telling you he’s a dick.”

Your best friend inhaled the cold autumn air through the tobacco and filter in their cigarette, filling their lungs with smoke before exhaling it, letting it mix with the breeze.

“He’s not a dick… there’s just a lot on his plate.” You tried defending him, but even to your own ears, the words that had left your mouth sounded pathetic and feeble. “God knows how I would’ve acted if I had his job.”

You were looking down at your own hands, playing with the handle of the mug that was now empty, the coffee in it long gone. You didn’t even have to look up to know that your friend was giving you a dirty look.

To be fair, they weren't completely wrong. You still couldn’t get behind their words – a dick – but you more or less agreed with their general idea: he wasn’t treating you right and you deserved better.

Knowing and realising all that, you still couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

“You would’ve been honest and communicated.” They took another drag through their cigarette. “And he should be too. If he wants to keep a relationship.”

The truth was, he had a demanding job. Being a pro hero and saving people’s lives almost every single day was taxing. Not only physically, but also mentally. You understood that. You had let him know that you understood.

Still, as your friend said, and even as your own head was telling you, wanting him to communicate his needs and intentions beforehand was the bare minimum. Not even letting a problem arise and preventing it. Because he should have cared.

The thing that hurt you the most was that it hadn’t always been like that.

At the start, when you two met, he was attentive. Funny. Kind. Charming. You were sure he was still the same person, only not towards you. Not anymore, at least.

You entertained your friend and they tried to distract you from your own thoughts for about another hour before you both got up and went separate ways, counting on seeing each other sometime in the next two weeks again. Not that any of you could make it longer without seeing each other.

You decided to take the longer walk home, hop to a small market on your way and buy some necessities you needed. Maybe pick up something small to treat yourself.

Your heels were clapping on the sidewalk loudly, your tempo moderate. Your feet hurt after spending the entire day in your heels and once again you cursed yourself for choosing this type of footwear when you had known you would have to spend an entire day in them. There was a huge blister forming on your right Achilles, you were sure.

You fished your phone from your purse without even thinking about it, your thumbs moving on the screen as if they’d had a mind of their own. Or maybe it was a muscle memory at this point.

You opened the messages app on your phone and stared at the screen. Maybe hoping that if you stared long and hard enough, you would somehow manifest his response. Or maybe he would even open and read the message instead of leaving you on delivered.

I’m sorry to hear that! You really should take a few days off, you deserve it :(

Pathetic.

Scoffing at yourself you put your phone back into your purse and entered the small market. After greeting the lady who owned the shop you grabbed a basket and started browsing the isles.

You liked this market. The owner was aloof, she never asked you personal questions. You had been going here for long enough for the lady to remember you, you were one of the regular customers, yet she treated you like a stranger every time.

You appreciated that. This kind of curtness.

You began your usual route around the small store – a route you’d walked so many times you would be able to walk it with a scarf around your eyes without bumping into a single thing.

You idly strolled through the shop, picking up the stuff you needed.

Toast bread.

A premade sandwich with cheese, ham, and cucumber.

Spam ham.

Canned fish.

A few packets of instant ramen.

Cheap coffee.

Two single rolls of toilet paper.

Two bottles of soju.

Your feet stopped once you were in front of the register. You put the basket on the counter with a tiny smile and waited for the owner to scan the items.

Your eyes slid from the small woman to the stand next to the register, where the magazines were, all kinds together. The serious ones and the ones that just wrote about celebrity gossip. Living and lifestyle ones. Ones for teenagers. Weekly sudokus and crossword puzzles.

You weren’t the same scared, shy, uncertain intern as you were a few years ago. You’ve earned your place in the publishing company; you were a proper columnist at that point. So when your boss had assigned you the interview with the pro hero that would be the main feature of the next issue, you had been elated and had readily accepted the task. You had been sure this would help further your career. Maybe help you get a raise.

As you had soon learned, you might have been a good columnist, but you were still very much naive. You hadn’t gotten a raise. Nor had the feature helped the career.

What you’ve gotten out of the interview, however, was your phone number in Dynamight’s phone.

“Thanks for the interview, it was great.” You smiled and closed your laptop right after saving the file.

“No, ya were great.”

You laughed a little, bashful, a quiet ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you put your laptop into its case and into your faux leather bag that was resting against the chair you were sitting in.

“I mean it,” he leaned back in his luxurious office chair, his elbows resting on the arms of the seat. “Most of the interviews I do are real uncomfortable. People love bein’ nosy and invadin’ my fuckin’ privacy.”

“You can’t blame them,” you grinned. “Of course, they wanna know everything about one of the most popular heroes.”

“And ya?” He asked after a slight pause and butted his chin in your direction.

“Me?”

“D’ya wanna know everythin’ ‘bout the most popular hero?”

You didn’t miss the way he changed ‘one of the most popular’ to ‘most popular’. Shameless.

“Uhm,” you bit your lower lip, not really sure what to answer.

“Lemme take ya out.”

You couldn’t deny his attractiveness. His cockiness and the roughness around the edges were more alluring than you would like to admit.

“Okay.” You breathed out and gave him a nervous smile.

Were you ready to go on a date with a pro hero though?

“Sorry?” You apologised to the woman when you realised she had said something.

She repeated the total price to you.

Oh, right.

You fumbled with your purse a little and fished out your wallet.

“Could you please add a bag to that?”

The woman grabbed one plastic bag from under the counter and put it on top of the things you purchased, not bothering to bag them.

“Actually… I would also like some cigarettes. And a lighter.” You put your wallet on the counter and started bagging the groceries yourself.

“What kind?” Was all she said, but you didn’t miss the judgy look she gave you.

“Gold Marlboro.”

She turned around to retrieve the cigarette box and basic, plastic lighter in a bright blue colour and handed them to you.

You finished bagging your stuff quickly, paid for it and with a goodbye exited the market.

A silent groan left your lips when you felt the rocky cement underneath your feet again, the back of your shoe digging into your Achilles more than before. The blister was going to be a big one.

The rest of the route to your home was uneventful. Thankfully. Once you opened the front door of the crappy building where you lived, you stood in front of the elevator.

It was old, unreliable, and just barely held together. This is why you usually took the stairs, but the painful cushion filled with fluid made you reconsider your actions. You looked from the elevator to your feet. It was either the stairs which would abuse your blister even more, or the risky elevator.

You sighed as you carefully stepped out of the heels.

“Shit.”

The blister that formed on your Achilles during the day must have popped and was now bleeding. Your entire heel and the inside of your shoe were stained with red that was slowly turning brown; the edges were crusty and flaking.

“Great.”

You bent down to pick up the bloody shoes in your free hand and started walking up the stairs. The stone and occasional tiles of the floor were just a tad too cool on your soles but you didn’t necessarily mind the sensation. It felt nice on your slightly swollen feet after the entire day.

Once you made it to the seventh floor – your floor – you stopped in front of the door to your apartment, and with a loud bang let the shoes fall from your hand to the floor. The bag with your groceries followed suit and soon you were trying to fish out your keys from your faux leather shoulder bag.

Your phone started vibrating, set on silent mode. Scrambling to quickly pick it up, you found your phone in record time and checked the caller’s ID, hoping to find a certain hero’s name on the display.

Your eyebrows furrowed a little when you found out it was your mother calling you. Inhaling deeply and breathing out through your nose, you slid your finger over the screen and put the phone against your ear.

“Hi, mom!” Your voice was too high-pitched as you greeted her. You leaned your head heavily to the side and squished the phone between your ear and your shoulder to keep your hand empty.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

You pulled a face at the pet name. You hated loving it.

“Mom, I’m sorry, but I’m really busy right now. Is it important?” You slightly fumbled with your bag as you kept trying to find your keys.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to call and ask how you’re doing,” you could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m doing fine! Listen, would it be alright if I call you tomorrow? I’ve got a lot of things I still gotta do today.” You were lying through your teeth.

It took only a few more seconds of conversation with her, and you both agreed on a call the next day when you ‘have more time’. You tossed the phone in your bag and rummaged through all the things once again before you found your keys in the bottom corner of your bag and unlocked the door.

First, you walked into the small and cramped hall of your apartment and put down your purse, then just halfway stepped out of your flat to retrieve your shoes and finally the bag with groceries.

Eventually, you closed and locked the door behind you, the grocery bag in your arms as you stepped into the apartment that was way too small to even fit a single person. Not even two steps later you were in your living room and bedroom and after three more steps and turning the corner twice you were standing in the ‘kitchen’. ‘Kitchen’ with quotation marks, because the very few cabinets with a sink and without a proper oven could hardly count as a regular kitchen.

The apartment was horrible. It was in a worse part of town – not necessarily the worst, but bad enough. The prefabricated block of flats was old and in desperate need of renovation; the plaster on the outside of the building was slowly crumbling, the insolation was thinner than the walls between apartments, the pipes were rusty, and you heard that several neighbours of yours from lower levels had complained about mould.

Most of the people here, except for a few old grandmas and young women around your age, were unfriendly. The neighbours, with whom you shared one of the living room walls, were too loud.

Oftentimes, there were strange smells, ones you could not identify or describe. Whether they were lingering in the hall of the building or, for some godforsaken reason, in your own flat, they always lasted only a couple of hours.

During your walks up and down the stairs to get to or from work, you’d meet people who’d make you cross the street if you met them in the city at night. They were mostly younger men with pronounced eyebags and a strut that was either overconfident or not confident enough.

The only reason you stayed there was because it was cheap and the commute to your work from here was alright. Even with a salary that was too low for the job you did, you were able to afford it and even save a little bit of money on the side for any possible emergencies.

You set the grocery bag on the counter and went back into the hall to take your probably ruined shoes, bringing them to your minuscule bathroom and setting them on the floor in your shower, deciding on trying to salvage them later.

On your way back to the living room you took your work bag with you. Opening the window first and letting the cold autumn breeze in, you sat down on the couch and fished around in your bag once again, looking for the cigarettes and lighter that you put separately into your purse. Once you found it, you chucked the bag without any care on the floor and leaned back on the couch, putting your bare feet up on the coffee table.

You hissed as the raw meat on the back of your heel came into contact with the old glass top of the table that needed some proper cleaning, but ultimately did nothing to alleviate the pain. Instead, you took a single cigarette out of the package and rested it between your lips, inhaling at the same time as your fingers brought the fire from the lighter to life.

You left the cigarette hung from your mouth, held by your dry lips, and leaned your head back, your hands splayed on the sides of your body.

The fact was, you were exhausted.

And you didn’t even have a good reason for it.

Sure, work sucked. You worked like a dog only to be constantly overlooked and not earn enough. You were lying to your own mother every time you talked, pretending you were much more successful than you actually were, trying to get on her good side and receive any bit of praise. You hated living in your apartment. You were seeing a man who probably didn’t feel the same about you as you did about him.

The only good thing was your high school friend, always by your side and ready to lend a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.

Maybe you should go see a therapist.

You closed your eyes and deeply breathed in the stale air that refused to move even with the window opened through the tobacco and filter. You wondered what Bakugo was doing right now. Maybe he was working on the paperwork in his office, sitting behind the big, wooden table that you’d once seen. Or maybe he was out, patrolling with one of his sidekicks, walking in the streets. Maybe he was covered with fake sweat, flexing his muscles for a shoot for another men's magazine.

Your mind lingered on the image of that.

His healthily tanned skin taut over his herculean muscles, the drops of water rolling down and creating a web of moisture, leaving goosebumps behind.

You pressed your thighs together, putting a small amount of pressure on the nether part of your body.

You thought back to all the passionate moments you’d spent with the pro hero. Bakugo might have been getting on your nerves lately due to his behaviour but he was an exceptional lover. He was the best you’d ever had, not that you would admit it out loud. That fiery personality of his projected itself well in the bedroom.

You brought your hand to the cigarette between your lips, took it away from the dry skin and shook off the stack of ash that was growing bigger and bigger at the end of the tobacco. Even though the hot ash landed on the floor covered by very cheap linoleum that was slowly peeling in some corners, you didn’t care.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, princess,” Bakugo was panting above you, the drops of sweat rolling down his forehead, neck, and chest and occasionally landing on your damp skin.

Your pussy was drooling on his dick, your juices wet on your inner thighs as well as his entire crotch and lower abdomen. He was bullying your body with his cock, repeatedly slamming it in and out of you at a fast pace.

“Katsuki,” you pleaded. You didn’t even know what you were asking him — to slow down? To change the angle? To fuck you harder? Your brain was a mush at that point and all you could think about was him, him, him.

“Not my name, sweetheart,” he grinned and slapped the top of your cunt with his hand, successfully hitting your clit.

You winced and tried to comprehend what he just said to you. Once the words registered, you corrected your mistake.

“Dyna- Dynamight!” His hero name on your lips was cut in half by your gasp.

“There we go.” He praised you. He didn’t move his hands from your hips when he angled them more, making your back arch and your pussy more open for him. “Your pussy fits me like a fuckin’ glove.”

Your head was swimming from all the sensations. Bakugo’s dirty talking, his hot breath hitting your calves while your legs were propped up on his shoulders, the blunt nails on his fingers digging into the skin of your hips, the tip of his dick dragging along your warm walls while he made sure you could feel him for several days to come.

“Look at ya,” he continued. “My dick feels so good’ya can’t even think, huh? Did I fuck ya dumb, princess?” There was a mocking tone to his voice while he talked.

In a normal situation, if you were having sex with anybody else, you would’ve been embarrassed. Both about the mocking and also about the fact that he was right. To be fair, none of your exes were able to fuck you good enough to get you into this state. But with Bakugo you couldn’t even manage to form thoughts coherent enough to feel the embarrassment at the moment.

“Dynamight,” was all you managed to let slip from your lips.

With the cigarette still between your lips, you unbuttoned your trousers and pushed your dominant hand under the fabric of your panties, the tight cotton sandwiching your fingers between the textile and your cunt.

You circled your entrance to gather some moisture, your pussy just starting to get wet. With the now slick pad of your finger, you moved it upward, tucking it a little underneath the hood to touch your clit directly.

Breathing out cigarette smoke from your nostrils, you leaned your head back, resting it against the headrest of your couch. With your eyes closed and a gentle sigh leaving your lips, you started moving the finger in circular motions.

“That’s right, princess.”

Your eyes were watering as you tried to swallow around the thickness of his cock in your throat.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” His grip on your hair tightened. You were running out of air and fighting your gag reflex when you put your palms on his strong thighs, ready to tap out at the last second in case you needed to. “Choke on my dick.”

Your nose scrunched up against the neatly trimmed pubes as you gagged hard and you quickly tapped his thigh. Bakugo didn’t release your hair, instead, he tugged your head backwards so you would get him out of your mouth quickly. Your lips were red and swollen, covered in your own spit and as well as his precum, parted as you panted for air. Two tears rolled down both of your cheeks as you looked up at the man standing in front of you.

“Good girl,” he sadistically grunted through his gritted teeth. “You’re such a good slut for me, aren’t ya?”

You closed your eyes as he gently, almost affectionately, slapped your cheek a few times.

“Open,” was all he said as he pushed two fingers into your mouth, reaching so far into your throat it made you gag again.

You grabbed the butt of the cigarette with your hand that wasn’t down your pants and leaned over to your coffee table to put it out against the glass. Leaving the butt there, you reclined against the couch once again, moving your finger from your clit back to your entrance, adding a second one to cover them both in your wetness and pushing them inside of you, immediately targeting your g-spot.

“Don’t stop.”

Bakugo’s hand on your hip helped with guiding your movements, effectively pushing you up and down on his cock as you rode him. You were so close to him your nipples were rubbing against his chest with every motion and you were practically breathing each other’s air. The tip of him was deep inside of you and rubbed against your g-spot each time you moved. Your arms were resting on his shoulders. One hand was leaning your weight against his trapezius and the other one against the god-awfully expensive leather sofa of his which you were probably staining now.

“Fuck,” he groaned so quietly you were only able to hear him thanks to the proximity. “You’re mine, do you understand?” His other hand, which wasn’t holding your hip but was snaked around your waist and pushing in between your shoulder blades so that you would be close to him, moved upwards and firmly, but not forcefully, squeezed the back of your neck. The gesture only made you feel that much closer to him. You nodded your head as fast as you could, but that was not enough of an answer for him.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

There was a certain desperation in his voice. Desperation that you heard for the first time with him.

“I’m yours.”

The words silently left your lips with a puff of air following suit. Bakugo wasted no time and kissed your lips passionately, seemingly putting all his feelings into it.

But you knew better.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

The buzz of your phone vibrating in your bag next to the sofa disrupted you.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You let out an angry grunt.

You debated not picking it up and calling whoever it was that interrupted you later, but decided against it when you felt a considerable amount of guilt in your throat. What if it was important?

You quickly pulled your hand out of your trousers and wiped your wet fingers on your blouse, leaving shiny, sticky splotches behind. Fumbling with the bag a little, you managed to find your phone just in time, not even looking at the caller ID as you swiped your finger against the screen and put it against your ear.

“Hey.”

Your body froze a little at the sound of the unusually cheery voice on the other end. He must have had a pretty good day, judging by his tone.

“Uh, hi.”

“Ya busy?”

You straightened on the sofa and tried to clear your throat as discreetly as possible.

“No, I was just cooking, sorry.” Lie.

“Cool. Listen, we haven’t seen each other for a while so I wanted to call ya.”

“That’s nice of you.” Bare. Fucking. Minimum.

“Yeah. I can’t really talk now, I’m ‘bout to go grab a few beers with my mates. I’ll call ya later, so we can talk properly, yeah?”

“Oh, sure.” You turned your head to look at the clock on the wall in your kitchen. It was already nearing eight o’clock, just how late did he mean to call?

“Alright. I’ll talk to ya later.”

He ended the call sooner than you could say goodbye.

Your hand that was holding the phone to your ear fell limply against the couch with the device still between your fingers. You didn’t know if his call made you feel happy or even more pathetic.

It was good that he called you, right? He obviously wanted to check up on you. And also promised to call you again later.

So why were you feeling like this? Where did this feeling come from?

You gulped the saliva that gathered between your teeth and the flesh of your cheek, accidentally swallowing a bit of air as well.

No, you thought to yourself. He was trying. That was good enough for you. For now.

You raised your hand with your phone again and unlocked it, opening a food delivery app. You debated between classic pizza and maybe something healthier, but your finger ultimately landed on the pizza picture on your screen, successfully tapping it into the cart. You chose the address for delivery and type of payment and locked your phone.

Releasing a deep breath, you stood up and with your phone still in your hand walked the few steps to your bed. The pizza was supposed to be delivered in 30-60 minutes. Might as well masturbate properly with your vibrator in the meantime.

»»————-　　————-««

After giving yourself two orgasms, eating the entire pizza and drinking several shots of soju, you fell asleep on your sofa just a few minutes after midnight. Bakugo didn’t call.

»»————-　　————-««

It was several days later that you heard from him again. This time, he didn’t even bother with calling you; he decided that two texts would suffice.

hey, sorry for not calling you the other day, i got wasted

you wanna see each other sometime again? ;)

‘That’s not a proper apology. Send him to hell.’ your friend replied when you sent them a screenshot of said messages.

You were sitting behind the desk you were assigned at work, your hands idly resting on the keyboard of your computer, but your eyes were glued to your phone that lay locked next to your cup of coffee. You should send him a reply.

“Do you have a minute?”

You jerked in your seat involuntarily, the sudden proximity of the voice effectively scaring you. Your blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your face, when you realised you were caught slacking off.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You replied to your boss, not exactly enthusiastically.

“Great.” He gave you a fake smile that didn’t reach his eyes and quickly left his lips and tapped the side of your cubicle a few times before he turned around and started walking towards his office, obviously expecting you to follow.

You cleared your throat and got up from your seat, tugged your pencil skirt down a little and followed him as quickly as you could in the garment that was sexy and elegant, but also restrictive.

You closed the door once you stepped into the personal office that was separated by glass walls from the rest of the cubicles where you and your colleagues worked.

“Sit down.” Your boss moved his hand in the general direction of the seat that was positioned in front of his desk.

The table was made of a grey and white particle board, as well as all the desks you and others worked on. The carpet in his office was originally the same shade of dark blue as the rest of the entire floor, but was less walked on and therefore managed to retain its colour better than the carpet in the rest of the space.

The window behind his back that you were facing and that he liked to stare out of so often was as bleak as it always is this time of the year. The strange shift between autumn and winter when the weather gets even colder and the days even shorter, when you usually reach for your second-hand wool coat before leaving your apartment.

“We need to talk.”

You were fucked.

»»————-　　————-««

Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you held the phone in your hand.

When are you free? We need to talk.

A small part of you wished Bakugo cared about you enough to actually get stressed after reading your message. But the more rational part of you knew that that wasn’t the case. The pro-hero with a super-inflated ego wouldn’t get anxious due to a mildly threatening message from an average journalist who had had his balls in her mouth not so long ago.

Unemployed journalist.

You debated calling your mother but ultimately decided against it. You weren’t in the headspace to deal with that kind of phone call.

You also considered calling your friend.

You didn’t, though.

You knew they would pity you. You didn’t want people to pity you. You just needed somebody to listen. And maybe a hug. But none of the people you were in contact with or that were in your life would ever just listen.

So you were left all alone with all these feelings that felt just too heavy on your chest. A lead that made it hard to breathe, a lead that your muscles had to actively fight against to fill your lungs with much-needed air. A lead that made you drag your feet against the pavement.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

this thursday at 5pm, come to my apartment

You didn’t even open the message to properly read it, your eyes just skimmed over the message in the notification on your lock screen before you stuffed the electronic device in your bag once again.

Good, you thought for yourself. You had three days to somewhat get your shit together before visiting him. As much as you had feelings for a certain pro-hero, you were not about to let him see you like this.

Especially not since you were determined to end whatever the weird situationship between the two of you was.

»»————-　　————-««

You rested the back of your head against the cool mirror behind you. The extra thick layer of concealer underneath your eyes to hide the dark circles was slowly creasing even though you’d used enough powder to set it… you could almost feel it.

The Visine in your eyes to make them appear whiter and not like you cried just this morning felt unnatural – too watery and a tiny bit stingy when you closed your eyes for long enough.

Your thought process? Don’t let him see your weakness. Don’t look like you actually care about this ‘relationship’. Could you even call it that? Could you call this situationship a relationship when he kept you secret from the public and his friends as well? When all he ever wanted to do with you lately was to fuck you?

The odd smell of the hairspray that you had used deliberately to keep your hair bouncy was almost palpable in the air, even though you used quite a lot of perfume. Those two smells as well as the lingering stench of a cigarette you smoked earlier combined were almost suffocating you, pressing down on your person, making you feel smaller and smaller.

The supposedly calming music that was playing in the elevator was paradoxically making you even more nervous.

The trousers you decided to wear that day made your ass look extra good, but cut into your stomach every time you sat down – a decision you, again, made on purpose. To get it over with quicker. You can’t even really sit down with these on. Plus, obviously, it wouldn’t be bad to remind him what he was going to lose, right? One last look at your ass was all you were going to grant him.

Saying that you were uncomfortable was an understatement.

You lost your job just a few days ago. It was clear to you you’d have to consider moving soon; the shitty apartment you lived in was cheap, but not cheap enough to keep while unemployed. And now, on top of your job and an apartment, you were about to lose him.

Maybe it was a good thing, though. Even though he made you feel like you were on cloud nine in the beginning, showering you with affection and spending most of his free time with you, lately all you’d been getting from whatever was happening between you two was stress and anxiety. Self-doubt. More insecurities.

Besides, were you really going to lose him? Could a person lose something they’ve never had in the first place?

Your mind wandered on its own to your favourite memory with him. It was still quite fresh, you could remember it as if it had happened a few days ago, even though in reality it had been weeks.

Your head resting on Bakugo’s thigh, the sound of the television and the feeling of his fingers playing with your hair inevitably lulling you to sleep. Your belly was comfortably full thanks to the amazing dinner Bakugo had cooked for you.

“You’re sleepin’.”

“Am not.” You replied, but you could hear it in your own voice, the tiredness and how you slightly slurred your words, your eyes still closed. His smell and proximity was just making you feel so, so safe.

A sigh left your lips as your hand moved on its own and started rummaging in the small purse that you’d brought with you. The fluorescent light in the elevator did nothing to flatter your appearance, quite the opposite, actually. You found the lip gloss you were wearing that day in the depths of your bag and reapplied it generously. You gave yourself another look in the mirror as you stuffed the small thing back into the bag.

God, it looked like you’d tried too hard.

Quickly, with only a few stories left, you tried to card your fingers through your hair to make them messier and ruin your appearance a little. Your hand flew to your lips to wipe off all the gloss you’d just put on as the door of the elevator opened to Bakugo’s floor.

You hesitantly stepped inside of the apartment and took off your shoes, the elevator door closing behind you. Leaving your coat and scarf on the hanger that was situated in the dead end of the hallway, you then stepped in the other direction to actually get further into the flat.

Your feet were quiet on the overpriced Persian runner rug, so you called his name to announce your arrival.

“Hey.”

You were looking directly at his back as you walked into the more open space and the centre of the floor. With his back to you and broad shoulders covered by a simple oversized black hoodie, he was standing right in front of a kitchen counter, probably mixing something judging by the sound of it.

“Hi.” You replied, your voice lacking the usual enthusiasm that laced it whenever you were with him. You put your purse on the couch in the living area and walked closer to where Bakugo was standing.

“Hope you’re hungry.” He said without raising his head or really looking at you.

When you came close enough, you were actually able to see what he was cooking – tamagoyaki.

“Not really.” You’d kill for some tamagoyaki at that moment, to be honest. “I'm not planning on staying long, actually.” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned your weight against the kitchen counter, resting your hip against it.

“Hm.” Was all he said.

You watched as he poured another part of the egg mixture into the pan, helping it spread by tilting the metal and sort of pushing the liquid with chopsticks.

Bakugo was an amazing chef. You’d asked him about it when you were eating curry rice during one of the occasions that you’d visited his flat and his response was a grunt and cookin’s not that hard.

“You know why I’m here, right?” You asked.

You hoped that he would say it first. Yer leavin’ me. You had prayed that he would say it, make it easier for you. Spare you from having to force air over your vocal cords and formulate the sounds with your tongue and lips.

He didn’t.

The silence stretched on as he seemingly minded his business, rolling the tamagoyaki into a perfect little roll and adding more egg mixture.

“I can’t…” You started but cut yourself off. You gave it another thought before you started again. “This has to end.”

Bakugo didn’t move a single muscle to indicate any sort of reaction he might’ve had. You watched him finally move as he took two bowls out of his kitchen cabinet and nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen aisle.

“Siddown, food’s almost ready.”

He started filling the bowls with steaming rice straight from the rice cooker while the egg was frying on the pan.

“I said I’m not hungry. I’m not here to eat.”

“And I didn’ ask.”

“Stop treating me like a child.” Anger was gathering in the pit of your stomach, twisting it more than it already was.

“Then stop actin’ like one.”

A moment of silence.

You were speechless.

A lump formed in your throat, successfully gagging you and preventing you from defending yourself. You could feel them, the tears forming in your eyes, threatening to fall over your lower lash line and roll down your cheeks.

“Please, siddown so ya can eat your food.”

You swallowed around the tightness in your throat and just nodded your head, not trusting your voice to keep steady. Without another word, you walked around the kitchen aisle and sat down on one of the tall bar stools, resting your forearms on the cold granite countertop. The stone was cold enough to sting your already cold skin, goosebumps forming on your arms.

After not even two minutes the meal appeared in front of you – a bowl of rice, another bowl of miso soup with tofu, a plate filled with cut tamagoyaki and a small bowl of steamed spinach with garlic.

“Eat up,” Bakugo said as he put his own bowls and plate on the countertop, sitting next to you.

The food was warm, filling your tummy with a nice feeling.

“It’s delicious.” You complimented after a few careful bites. You meant it.

“It’s alright.”

Ever the critic. Even when it comes to himself.

The two of you were eating in silence, only the sounds of chewing and slurping filling the air.

Bakugo raised his eyes from his meal when he noticed your reluctance to continue eating about halfway through the meal.

“Why aren’ ya eatin’?”

You could hear the disapproval in his voice. Not worry, not even concern. Just disapproval.

“Uhm,” you started, but couldn’t finish your sentence.

The godforsaken jeans you’d decided to wear were digging into your stomach painfully, to a point where a sharp pain was shooting up your chest. And you filling your belly more wasn’t helping it.

“D’ya not like it?”

“No! No, that’s not it.” You moved a piece of the omelette with your chopsticks around on the plate. “It really is delicious.”

Hmph.

You chewed on your lower lip. Bakugo was obviously unhappy with your answer. He was still staring you down.

“I’m wearing my standing jeans.” You admitted after a few seconds.

“Standin’ jeans.” He repeated, obviously not understanding the term.

“Yeah. Standing jeans. Jeans that look great when you stand up, but you can't really sit down in them because they’re too tight.”

Your laughable reason was met with silence, he was obviously letting you stew in the ridiculousness of it all.

“They’re too tight when I sit down, they dig into my stomach.”

Bakugo blinked at you once before he rolled his eyes and without a word got up and left the kitchen, disappearing in the direction of his bedroom.

You heard some sounds coming from the other side of the flat before he reappeared with grey sweatpants in his hand, handing them to you.

“Change.”

“I’m not going to change into your sweatpants.” You protested, looking at the fabric in his extended hand. “I didn’t even want to stay here. Nor eat your food. Can we just get this over with?”

You were this close to begging him. This close. Begging him to say the final words, those ones you had no guts to really say. Even though they were long overdue.

“Ya look like shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me. Ya look like a’mess. Change'nto those damn sweatpants and finish your food.”

You looked from his face to the sweatpants he was still holding out for you. Reluctantly, you took them and stood up, immediately feeling the relief in your midsection. You walked back into the hallway where you came from and disappeared in the door on the left – Bakugo’s bathroom.

You peeked a look at yourself in the mirror immediately after closing the door behind you. He was right. You looked like shit. The concealer was cakey under your eyes; the foundation was sitting on your skin almost unnaturally, making you look like you were wearing some sort of a mask. The mascara formed spider legs on your lower lash line – where some stray tears had gathered. The Visine you had used obviously wasn’t working.

You could just leave the apartment. Just leave and not look back. Obviously, he would get the hint, right?

Leave and not say a word. Save yourself from the uncomfortable conversation, the uncomfortable feelings that would inevitably bubble up your chest and settle in your throat.

You sighed and put some liquid hand soap in your palm, turning on the water with your other hand. Smearing the soap across your face, you rubbed hard enough to get the mask off your face, so you could feel the inevitable tears on your skin without any barrier between the two. The soap was slightly stinging as it got into your eyes, but it didn’t stop you from rubbing your face with your nails until your skin was all red and the makeup was now underneath your fingernails.

It didn’t matter if you wore your mask or not. Not anymore. He had seen right through it. Might as well bare yourself to him.

Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you saw the black streaks of mascara all over your face, which made you dunk your face into the watery, soapy concoction for longer, until it was running down your forearms and to your elbows, dripping down onto the grey rug on the floor. It didn’t bother you at this point.

You only opened your eyes again when you ran out of breath, now looking at beet-red skin with two bloodshot eyes that were staring back at you in the mirror.

That would do for now.

Opening the drawer underneath the bathroom sink, you knew exactly where to look to find the hair accessories Bakugo kept for all his hookups. Grabbing the ones you needed, you pinned your slightly damp hair out of your face. Stripping off your standing jeans, you folded them neatly into a nice square before you put on the grey sweatpants that were ill-fitting on you.

It didn’t matter now.

Didn’t matter what you looked like.

You sniffled a little and opened the door, emerging into the hallway and letting only the slight taps of your feet announce your entry to the kitchen.

Bakugo looked up from his meal, unphased, and nodded his head to himself.

“Thanks for the sweats.” You put your jeans on the counter to your right, where there was empty space.

“No problem.”

That was actually kind of nice of him.

Your brain whined in your head.

He wasn’t supposed to be nice to you. Not now. Not when you needed a final push to end this. Like a coward.

“Is al’this just ‘cause of me, or did somethin’ else happen?”

You stayed silent for a while, instead putting in your mouth a spoonful of miso soup with a piece of tofu.

Should you be honest with him, or lie?

…It didn’t matter anymore, did it?

“I got fired.”

You stuffed your face with the fried egg.

It was really nice to eat a warm meal after some time. Only now that you were wearing his sweatpants and your entire stomach wasn’t hurting from those damn jeans did you realise how much you actually relished the feeling of warmth filling you up.

“Sorry t’hear that.”

All you replied was a low hum from the back of your throat, continuing to fill the dark, empty space inside of you with the home-cooked meal.

“Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?” He asked after a minute.

You could see in your peripheral that he was looking at you now, pausing his eating.

“Not really.”

After that, the two of you finished eating in silence. Once you accepted that Bakugo knew you weren’t alright, the silence actually turned comfortable.

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking things over while the two of you were eating. Was this really the last time you’d ever see him? He deserved to get dumped for how badly he had treated you, right?

Maybe he had his reasons. Maybe something in his life happened the same way you got fired just recently?

You shook your head from side to side discreetly as you swallowed down another mouthful. It was too late. You came here for a reason, and that reason was exactly what you were mulling over now.

Don’t be a fucking coward.

It was the right thing to do.

Bakugo treated you as disposable. If that was what you were to him, there was no reason for you to stay.

Were you ready to prove to yourself that you truly were disposable to him, though?

You realised you had been staring at now empty plates and bowls in front of you only when Bakugo’s hand appeared in the picture to collect the dishes.

“Thank you for the food, it was really nice.”

“Hm.”

You stayed seated at the kitchen island as you watched him neatly put the bowls and plates into the dishwasher. It was obvious that he followed a certain system. You didn’t even consider getting up and offering any help. You knew him well enough to know that he would scold you and tell you to sit down again.

Your eyes drifted over his body while he was bending down to put the porcelain away. The way his back muscles moved underneath the fabric, the way the dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck brushed against the skin.

You could almost feel it. Feel his muscles move under your fingers, taste his skin on the tip of your tongue.

Your eyes followed his movement as he finally turned around once he was done, resting his backside against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes met and your look didn’t falter. It didn’t.

“So ya wanna break up?”

You let him win and looked down at your lap. All you saw was the grey fabric that belonged to him.

“Is it really a break-up if we haven’t even properly dated?” You dared to raise your eyes again.

“Fair enough.”

It was him now that looked down. You won this round.

You were sitting on the bar stool in silence while he was just standing there, in the kitchen, the kitchen island creating sort of a safe barrier between you two. Your fingers were fidgeting in your lap, trying to make your mind focus on anything else than what was really going on in your head.

Don’t say it.

Don’t.

“What happened?”

You winced. You said it.

“Whaddya mean?”

This was a mistake.

You abruptly got up and grabbed your jeans from the countertop. You were leaving in his sweatpants. You’ll send them back to him sometime later.

“Wait.”

You could hear his hurried footsteps following you to the living room area where you collected your purse from the couch.

“Wait, god dammit,” he grabbed your arm and spun you around so you could face him. “What didya mean by that?”

You were staring at the neckline of his hoodie, tears smudging your vision. There was not enough of them to roll over the notional barrier, but enough of them for you to fear that they would.

“What didya mean by that?” He repeated the question. Now that he was so close to you, his voice got much softer. Much quieter.

That along with the smell of his cologne and deodorant made you realise just how much you’d missed him. The emotion filled your body with a strange feeling of sorrow and grief.

His hand left your arm and you craved for his touch to return.

“What happened?” Your voice sounded broken. It felt like it was another person talking rather than you, you couldn’t recognise it. “It was so nice at the start.”

You dared to look up at him, which turned out to be a mistake. The movement sent the drops of salty water over the edge of your waterline. You felt them rolling down your cheeks to your chin where they connected into one and dripped down.

Bakugo’s vermillion eyes followed the movement of the liquid on your face. He almost looked guilty.

“I don’ know whaddya want me t’say.”

“The truth.”

He looked away from you for a few seconds while he put his hands in his pockets. It was clear he was debating it. Whether or not he should really be honest with you.

“You owe me that much.” You encouraged him to talk even though you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to be anywhere else with anybody else than in his apartment with him. Maybe you were a masochist.

“I used ya.”

Fresh tears started streaming down your face as soon as his words registered in your brain. His saying it out loud made it all too real. If he hadn’t admitted it, you could still pretend it was something else. You could pretend and make yourself feel better about it. When he admitted it you lost the possibility and comfort of gaslighting yourself into thinking he had a good reason.

He had enough sense to look at the floor almost shamefully when he carried on.

“I had a lottov things goin’ on ada time. Ya distracted me from it.”

You blinked harshly to force the water from your eyes out. The gentle gasp for air left your lips even though you tried to fight it, to conceal it from him.

“’M sorry. I thought I could give ya more, ‘cause you’re really nice.”

“Yeah, well… really nice doesn’t seem to cut it, does it?”

You both stood there in silence for a few more beats before you felt his hand on your cheek, his thumb smearing the tear away from underneath your eye.

“Don’t.”

It was a quiet plea, a quiet plea that sounded too much like a whimper, leaving your lips parted after rolling off them.

“I meant what I said.” He pulled his hand away from your cheek, moving it to the other and wiping your tears there as well with the upper side of his index finger. “Ya are nice.”

“Whatever.” You removed your face from his touch, eyes glued to the floor.

“Spend the night.”

Was it an order, or a request? You didn’t know, but the sentence froze your feet to the floor before you could turn and make your exit.

“What?”

“Listen, listen. No funny business. Just, spend the night. Ya can sleep inda guest room.” He added the last sentence almost as an afterthought.

Your eyebrows were furrowed above your eyes that were moving from right to left, going from one red eye to the other, trying to gauge the sincerity of his statement.

“Spend the night.” He repeated once more, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Your mind was screaming at you to get the hell out of that apartment, but you felt yourself nod.

A masochist.

“Yeah?” He was making sure.

“Yeah,” you whispered, not even looking him in the eye. The lump in your throat was making you feel like you could choke on it and you already felt bad for betraying yourself like this and agreeing to his outrageous request. You couldn’t bear the way he was definitely looking at you on top of all of that.

Bakugo gently put his hand on your shoulder and guided you back into the heart of his apartment.

“D’ya wanna watch some movie?” He led you to the couch so you sat down on it without any protest.

“Sure.”

He sat down next to you, not really close, but not far away from you either, turning the TV on and switching to the streaming service on it immediately.

You kept biting the inside of your cheek and looking everywhere else than at the TV or him. Hearing the opening of a movie, you raised your eyes to the big screen mounted on the wall. Your throat went dry as soon as you realised what was playing.

“No, something else.” You demanded quickly. “I wanna watch something new.”

Bakugo looked at you for a few seconds and then nodded his head, taking the TV remote in his hand once again and switching the movie to a different one.

The movie that he initially pressed play on was a movie you talked about with him. You could still remember how you gushed about it, mentioning how it was your favourite movie growing up and saying the words we should watch it together sometime. Of course, that 'sometime' never really came. So, now you wouldn’t let him do this. You wouldn’t let him taint your movie. This was yours. He had no right to claim this thing as well.

You wouldn’t let him have this because that would mean that at some point he actually listened to you. It would mean that at some point he might’ve tried if he cared enough.

The sound of a different movie playing commanded your attention then and so you tried to tune in as much as possible. Just from the music, you could tell that it was an action movie.

“Real’ like this one.”

You wished he didn’t say those words.

»»————-　　————-««

You were probably in the middle of the movie and lucky for you, you were already able to say that you hated it. Loud explosions, ridiculous situations, plot with holes. Surprisingly, Bakugo liked a Hollywood action movie with too big of a budget.

Your eyes drifted from the TV screen to the window. Living this high up definitely had its perks. The view being one of the main ones. You remembered how naïve you had been when this situationship started. How you had thought maybe if this goes well, I’ll be looking at the same view every morning.

“Ya don’t like it?”

Ever the observant.

You turned your head to the other side, looking at Bakugo who was looking right back at you. You bit your lip and shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s fine.”

You didn’t want to be mean but you also didn’t want to lie about liking it.

“Fine?”

Wrong answer, apparently.

“I guess I just wasn’t in the mood for an action movie.” You tried to calm him down a little. Lying it was then.

“Shoulda told me that hour and a'half ago. Dammit.”

You watched him as he grabbed the remote and exited the movie.

“What are ya inda mood for, then?”

You watched his profile illuminated by the light from the TV screen for a few seconds. He was so beautiful it almost pained you. The constantly furrowed brows you almost couldn’t see because of his hair covering his entire forehead, his perfect nose, the shape of his lips. His skin without blemishes, apart from a few small scars, even though he didn’t really have a skincare routine.

You remembered how you imagined what your possible babies would look like. They’d be perfect.

“So?” He asked impatiently when you hadn’t answered immediately.

His eyes met yours when you decided what to do.

Moving closer to him, you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Just as you remembered. He still tasted the same. It was Bakugo who leaned back, looking at you. Making sure you knew what you were doing. You leaned in more, kissing him again. Gently, almost tenderly. What if this was the last time you ever got to taste him? You relished the feeling, trying to commit to your memory as much as you could. His taste, his smell, the way his lips felt against you. The kiss got interrupted when he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Are ya sure ya can handle it?”

You knew what he meant. Are you sure you can handle that, emotionally? Are you sure it won’t ruin you even more? You couldn't help yourself. Bakugo was like a scab you couldn't stop picking at. An open wound that just wouldn't heal. He was your weak spot.

“No.” You said with your voice all breathy, kissing him once again, this time more passionately. Bakugo reciprocated without missing a beat, one of his hands grabbing the side of your face and the other one going straight to your waist. Not even a few seconds in, you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling him without breaking the kiss.

You were eager.

And Bakugo was just as eager as you.

Part of your brain hated this. Hated how good his touch felt, hated how familiar all of this was. How safe you felt right in that moment and just how vulnerable and exposed it was all at the same time. You felt weak.

Bakugo’s hand that was on your waist moved to your hip and gripped it tightly, pushing you back and forth, guiding your movements so you would grind against him. There was impatience in the movements from both of you. You knew where it was coming from on your end but the implications of it coming from him made your heart drop in your chest.

“Need you.” You half whined against his lips before you quickly stood up and took off the sweatpants he had lent you. Bakugo followed suit – he took off his trousers hastily and welcomed you back in his lap with open arms, immediately grabbing at your flesh and squeezing what he could.

“Couldn’t leave ‘thout one last fuck, could ya?” He growled against your skin when he moved his lips to your neck and started kissing and nibbling it.

You let out a quiet moan and grabbed his growing bulge through his boxers, the thin fabric the only thing separating you from him. He was almost fully hard already, huffing against your neck as you stroked him.

“Fuck, okay, lemme go grab a condom.” The hero parted from your neck momentarily and was about to get you off of him and get up when you stopped him.

“No!”

You surprised yourself with how quickly you objected to that. Bakugo stopped himself and gave you a look.

“No,” you said calmer this time. “I wanna feel you.”

You deserved it. You deserved this. You deserved at least one good thing in your life. And he would be the one to give it to you. You didn't need his love or affection. All you needed was a piece of him.

You pushed his underwear down just enough so his balls and dick, now fully hard, were free and stroked it, eliciting an almost painfully sounding groan from the man.

“I wanna feel you tonight.” You repeated, pushing your own panties to the side and lining him up with your entrance.

You definitely needed more prep than this, you knew that it would be an uncomfortable stretch and that you weren’t wet nearly enough to help with it, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

You groaned from the slight sting, it was a bit worse than you expected it to be.

“Shit, easy.” Bakugo put his hand on your hip to slow you down a bit. “No need’da hurry. We got all night, princess.”

»»————-　　————-««

You sat on the bathroom floor in your mother’s flat, having to temporarily move in with her due to your unemployment. The phone you kept pressed against your ear kept ringing and ringing. To be honest, you were expecting it to go straight to a voicemail right away.

“Yeah?” He picked it up probably at the last possible ring.

“Hey.” You greeted him. “Listen, could we talk?” You bit your lip as you looked at the positive pregnancy test in your hand.

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #pro hero bakugou #pro hero bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo angst #bakugou angst #bakugo katsuki angst #tw: baby trapping #ves writes

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stargirl-writes · 6 months

Text

devotion

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.3k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

when you decided to sleep with anakin skywalker, you have set an arrangement to keep it purely physical. but it was getting harder to repress that you've fallen for him. and tonight, you aren't sure if you can keep seeing him in like this anymore.

tags : angst, hurt/no comfort, pining.

warnings : !mature content! (implication of sexual themes, but not discussed) and drinking. kind of a cliffhanger (i'm debating whether i should make another part still)

notes : hello lovely people, i'm currently hyperfixiating on media referring/relating love to faith and cannibalism (as smone with religious trauma haha!) so here's my tiny drabble on that, i hope ya like it 🪽

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Corruption begins at the mouth. To consume the flesh— the wanting. The thought of being ready to devote entirely. And to be devoured with the same intensity.

So when you agreed to have sex with Anakin Skywalker, you convinced yourself it was purely physical. The attraction has always been there, one of you is bound to break, and to your favor, Anakin had been the one to come to your quarters.

But it doesn't matter. Whatever you feel is overcome by your fear of intimacy. You can satiate the physical sensations without ever needing to commit.

He wanted you. And you wanted him — in the same manner. Purely physical, that was the arrangement you set.

The days are most exhausting but you can give into the relief of coming apart by Anakin's touch, and his hungry kisses, and his deep thrusts. You'd forget the stresses of the galaxies. You'd allow him to hold you, without him knowing that no one has ever stood to your soul as he does when his eyes fix on you at the edge of your climax.

And Anakin would fuck like you were the most beautiful thing he'd got his hands on. He becomes greedy, he'd become the closest thing to intimacy you can define.

It never mattered how you felt before.

He always made sure to have you feel good first, and you'd always make him crumble by your touch after.

It was a mutual exchange.

There's no need to complicate such a clear line by confusing his kisses as something romantic.

You knew he was carnivorous about love— he'd want to be teeth deep in possession. He could love you, if you let him, you could become his God.

And that terrified you more than your fear of intimacy.

You stood up from the sheets, legs still trembling.

Despite the moments earlier, you wrapped your robe around your body, feeling exposed.

You know Anakin would never stay after. It was good that he didn't. At least, then you can reestablish some space after such a binding ritual of fucking and vows that leave his lips in the heat of the moment.

You sat down by the chair away from your bed, pouring yourself a drink. It was a vice you developed during the war. One you can't entirely quit because it sends you straight to sleep.

Anakin was steadying his breath. You heard him shuffling, as if he too was trying to come down from the high.

You downed your drink and poured another. Begging for that warm buzz to come over quickly so you'd stop feeling so... excessively.

Through the mirror, you saw Anakin put back his garments— his hair stubbornly a mess.

You take your gaze away from lingering on his bare torso. Or his sharp jaw. Or his tight back.

You drank your shot once more.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Anakin says, his profile the only thing you could make out from the reflection.

Your heart aches, torn between wanting to say yes, i'll see you tomorrow, please come find me tomorrow, hold me tomorrow, and no, i can't keep doing this tomorrow, i don't want to see you tomorrow.

You cannot admit that you knew loving would destroy you. if he comes tomorrow, you fear you'd break and finally tell him. But then again, if you refuse, he'll know how you felt.

The stage is finally set; for you and Anakin to dance and circle around waiting to be consumed by one another.

Possession is cruel, it corrupts. You thought, with all the love you have— you could eat him whole.

You don't speak, Anakin steps forward, standing very close to your back.

The heat of his body emanates to your robes— casting imprints on the fibers of your soul.

You saw Anakin's gaze land on the drink you were having. He never did like how you turn to alcohol for some sort of relief.

"Did you not want me to come tomorrow?" He insists after noticing your silence.

Your lips purse, "No"

He tilts his head, lost by what you meant.

"No— no, you can, if you want to" you clarified, unsure how committed you were to your own words.

You downed the rest of your drink— feeling the familiar haze of its effect.

"Then what's bothering you?" Anakin speaks softly, you hated how much you didn't want to ruin this.

You sigh, shaking your head "Nothing"

"Nothing at all"

Anakin kneels down, wanting to see your eyes. His eyes were dark, intent, you wondered what they'd look like if he fell in love.

"Did I—" He begins, Your eyebrows furrow at the concern coating his voice.

"Did I hurt you? Did I do something?"

You pressed your palm against his cheek, forcing him to look up. "No, Anakin"

Under your touch, he looked like everything you asked for. Underneath your sinful fingers, he becomes something you could worship.

You caught yourself dreaming and withdrew your hand, taking the glass of alcohol instead.

You could feel his eyes burn at your skin watching you drink.

"I'll see you tomorrow" You dismissed, standing up, trying to establish some space, so you can stop being so encased by his warmth, or his eyes, or his hair, or his hold on you he was so blissfully unaware of.

Your head spun, you fought through the blurriness.

You found yourself at the balcony instead, a breath of fresh air would do you good.

You waited to hear your door lock— held your breath til he left.

But he stays.

"You know, you really should stop depending on alcohol" Anakin appears next to you.

You ran your finger to the rim of your drink, huffing a breathless laugh.

"It's the only thing that comforts me nowadays" You sigh, not intending the double entendre.

Besides, you doubt he'll interpret your attraction to him as anything else.

The silence hung once more. The cold of the midnight air felt crisp against your bare legs, so you hugged your robe against your skin.

"I worry about you" Anakin's voice was husky, exhausted. "We used to be able to talk about everything before"

Your heart tinges in guilt. Along the way, you somehow have pushed him farther away by denying how you felt.

"I'm sorry, I've just been trying to figure out some things"

You're doing it because of love. And for love, you disappear.

"Well, come to me. You know you can always come to me, whenever you need me." Anakin stresses.

You look up, biting your tongue. Begging to stay in one piece.

If you offer yourself— it'd be the most selfish thing you'll do.

You'll be mine. You thought as you get lost in his eyes.

Burning devotion. For all eternity.

"Anakin, we can't keep doing this anymore" You said finally, submitting to your truth.

Anakin's eyes furrow in focus. "Doing what?"

You frown, trying to explain something incommunable.

You've always felt ashamed for wanting. For taking. It wasn't a virtue, it was a disguise. Because you can't love without giving yourself entirely, bones and all. Ravenous, intense, unforgiving devotion.

Because isn't bite also a form of touch?

Finally, Anakin seems to understand the expression painted on your face. You held your breath, bracing for his reaction.

"You wanted this" He reminds. The sterness of his voice made you flinch. It felt like the cruelest rejection.

"I know"

"You said clear lines. No attachments"

"I know" You felt like you were being caught in the act of doing something forbidden.

Anakin's expression hardens, seeming to process your admission.

Your tears were threatening to fall, but you refused to let them. You didn't want him to feel sorry you felt that way. You didn't want him to know how far you've pathetically fallen for him.

He turns to his heel and your heart breaks.

The tear finally leaks your left eye, as your hand reaches out, just enough to grip on the end of his robe.

"Stay"

part ii?

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onlymingyus · 1 year

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remember me

cw; kim mingyu x afab reader - smut, oral (f receiving), recording a sexual act for personal use, cum eating

an; if anyone gets mad at me or attacked just know this is @dkakapizzaboy's fault. no tag list because it's right after work and i'm exhausted.

You hand starts to lower, your mouth falling open in a quiet moan as Mingyu's lips pull at your wet folds. A groan slipping from his throat vibrates through you causing your thighs to quiver but the moment he notices that you aren't paying attention, he slows down. He pulls away causing you to whine out his name.

Mingyu's hand moves to adjust the phone in your hand, a smirk on his lips. He leans to press a kiss to your mound before pulling back to adjust his place between your thighs. "You have a job to do, darling. Record me, like you were told to. I need you to have something to keep you company while I'm away."

He doesn't wait for your answer, he just dives back in, his tongue running from your entrance to your clit as you stare at him in the screen of your phone. The video was shaky but god it was perfection. You could see his spit and your cum connecting in thin messy strings from your pussy to his lips.

Mingyu was always messy when he went down on you. This was one of his favorite things to do and if you'd let him, he'd spend hours making you cum again and again on his tongue.

Glancing up Mingyu's eyes meet the camera, lust dripping from them. He could sense you were close again. All the signs were there. Your legs were shaking, you were clenching around his tongue every time he fucked you with it, and your breaths were getting labored.

He doesn't wait for you to tell him anything, and he doesn't slow down. Instead he groans loudly against your pussy sending you over that edge once more. You have to force yourself to keep the video on his face and what he is doing between your legs.

Mingyu laps at your cum as it slowly seeps from you on to his tongue and fingers, a grin pulling at his lips when he looks up at the camera again. Leaning back he smirks at you running his tongue along his lips to spread your cum along them causing your cheeks to burn at the lewd scene.

"Now, you really have something remember me by. Tell me, Princess...will you fuck yourself when you watch this while I'm gone?" You whimper out a yes and Mingyu licks his fingers clean, nodding along with you. "Course you will, and you'll send me a video so I can watch."

#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svthub #mingyu imagines #seventeen imagines #svt smut #svt imagines #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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ghostherlig · 6 months

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railao (?) drabble

i have no idea what their ship tag is, but i'll update this if i figure it out- anyway, please enjoy <3

Kung Lao startled at the feeling of Raiden's hand on his shin, the calmer man gasping as he watched what was happening on screen.

Raiden had dragged him into his room, the two having been catching up on one of the shows they had been watching together. It had been a rougher few weeks, and this was what they normally did in their down time.

Though, Raiden was currently a lot more invested than Kung Lao.

"By the gods, he betrayed her!" Raiden whispered, completely enraptured by what was happening on screen.

Lao was closer to passing out than he would care to admit, the comfortable position he was laying in certainly wasn't helping, and neither was Raiden's unreasonably calming presence.

"Ooh, did you see that, Lao? That looked like it hurt..." Raiden commented, shaking his leg a little with his words.

Lao peeked an eye open to watch was happening on screen, a woman and her ex-lover apparently fighting on screen. It was a choreographed scuffle, and Lao chuckled at the obviously pulled punches.

"I bet it did." Lao answered, voice low with exhaustion.

He had worked hard, and since this was supposed to be his down time he wasn't feeling too guilty about using it to rest.

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" Raiden teased, laughter in his tone as he paused their show.

"No, no," Lao answered, waving his hand over at Raiden despite the fact that his head was turned down, his regular straw hat covering his eyes, "You can keep watching, 挚友."

"I can clearly see you falling asleep, Lao, and you only call me 挚友 when you're too exhausted to hold your tongue," Raiden pointed, Kung Lao chuckling and leaning his head back, his closed eyes exposed to the man sitting next to him on the bed.

"You got me there," He smiled, peeking an eye open to see Raiden staring back at him, sitting cross legged next to his waist, his hand still on Lao's shin.

They were comfortable like that. The two of them normally shared space and touches casually, it came with growing up together as they had. And with bunking together as they had and do at Wu Shi.

"You should've told me, I would've stopped watching at the end of the last episode," Raiden scolded, backing out of the episode they were currently watching.

"No, you should finish it. It was nearly over," Lao yawned, and Raiden rolled his eyes at him.

"We were less than half way through, Lao." He deadpanned, getting a shrug in return.

"They aren't that long,"

"They're each an hour! You must be closer to falling asleep than I thought," Raiden teased, getting a scoff from Lao.

"I'm not, just finish your episode! I'm sure it'll be a good one. I can rest after that, Raiden, we get to sleep in tomorrow, remember?" Kung Lao reminded, and Raiden pouted.

"Are you sure? I know as soon as I put it back on and stop talking you're going to pass out." Raiden answered, and Lao sighed.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now put it back on, 挚友." Lao teased, Raiden huffing a laugh and putting the episode back on, Kung Lao listening as it went on.

Apparently, the main lead had been betrayed by her lover, and they were fighting it out. That was, until the ex-lover's mistress came into the scene, helping fight off the first girl.

It was a convoluted mess, but Raiden was always so interested in these shows. Lao remembers the first series Raiden watched. Madam Bo had lent him the tapes, and despite their age they held up pretty well.

"C'mon, get her!" Raiden whispered, cheering on the lead as she fought off the other two.

Lao smiled to himself.

He never really loved these shows like Raiden did, but time spent with Raiden was time well spent. He would spend the rest of his days just like this if it meant he could spent them all with Raiden.

With his 挚友.

His 宝宝.

He could feel the leaden weight of the promise ring in his pocket, knew he would need to show to his 宝宝 soon enough.

And he would. In due time.

But right now, laid out comfortably on Raiden's full sized cot, the sounds of the TV and Raiden's engaged whispers in his ears, and the warmth of a cozy summer's night, Kung Lao was more than happy to wait.

end notes!! chinese translations: 宝宝 is Bǎo bǎo which means 'baby', and 挚友 is 'dearest friend' or 'best friend'. fair warning i do not speak chinese and these may be incorrect!!

#railao #raiden x kung lao #mk1 #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #drabbles by greg #i love them your honor

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mrbluesummers-moved · 1 year

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I'm too tired to write the full Essay™, but someone said in the tags that Stampede took away Knives' fear and it made me realize that the core issue I have with Trigun Stampede is the fact that the characters lack the emotional depth of Trigun Maximum. Like, I'm enjoying Stampede, and it's emotional, but Knives and Vash especially have had their emotional complexity watered down in comparison to the manga.

In the manga, they were as much at war with themselves as they were with each other and world around them. Knives was expressive, animated, and always playing up the megalomaniac god complex in public, but in private he was exhausted and scared and even expressed guilt towards his sisters for being careless in how he orchestrated the fall. Vash was an upbeat pacifist who was constantly fighting his own urge to take the "easy" way out and kill to solve problems.

It's what made the manga so heartbreaking. Neither of them were entirely right, but neither of them were entirely wrong. Knives shouldn't try a genocide, but he was also a deeply traumatized child who was shown how cruel humans could be to plants. Vash should try to do as much good in the world as he can, but holding onto the ideals of pacifism in a hostile environment does more harm than good and he learns that when he's finally pushed to the point where he has to choose between killing and saving someone important to him.

I don't think it's impossible for Stampede to recover in Season 2, but the foundations aren't great. Changing Nai to being cold as child seems like such a small change, but Knives starting out as the optimist who loved humanity is so central to that internal conflict... I don't know. Maybe they'll come back to the point of Rem being important to Knives and make use of the fact that he intended for her to survive and that might save it. We'll have to see.

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #millions knives #vash the stampede #me: i don't have the energy to write an essay #also me:#this is probably incomprehensible and I don't want to be the guy wot rags on stampede bc i genuinely love the show #and find it more watchable than the 90s anime (sorry)#but it's more fun to complain and critically analyze the characterization #and knives is just so important to me and the fact that he hasn't gotten a good adaptation is disappointing #his childhood personality is so core to his character and yet adaptations choose to make him cold rather than bubbly and hopeful #basically the entire basis for vash's adult persona lbr #anyway i had to hold myself back from writing an essay about knives and his expressiveness too #thinking about the way he reacted to the last run and seeing the plants happy memories and how he “greeted” midvalley and #him being calm and collected just feels wrong

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ficdumper · 2 months

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We don't talk about Lucifer

Description: There was a time where you and your brother were inseparable, but everything changed when you fell. Not only was it silently agreed to never talk about him again, but many started wondering whether you will meet the same fate

Type: one-shot, songfic

Tags: angst, open angsty ending

Reader info: GN, Lucifer's sibling, a seraphim

Warnings: slight gore, murder

Song: Mirabel's villain song by Lydia the bard (can be found on YouTube)

We don't talk about Lucifer, no, no

We don't talk about Lucifer

But

Heaven is perfect, any angel would say that. It was true, with it's fluffy clouds and bright skies

Heaven is a paradise, a sacred safe place. And it was true for you, until they cast out Lucifer.

At first your reaction was denial. You just couldn't accept the reality of the situation - your brother, the biggest dreamer you've ever known, was casted out for being different. So what if he made a mistake, aren't angels supposed to be forgiving?

Whenever you actually left your home, everyone either looked at you with pity or looked away, pretending they didn't see you.

You made him walk away

He left himself or so you say

But I've heard another take

Next came the fury. Your eyes lost the once bright spark, your heart grieving, full of anger. You couldn't understand, how was his act so bad they sent him to the fiery pits of Hell for the rest of eternity? It wasn't fair! Not to him, not to the now free willed humans, not to you. They dared to separate you from your brother and expected you to just accept it? Accept as they say vile things about him, about what a disgrace he was?

Accept as they whispered: will they be the same?

You hide in your storm and close off from the rain

But don't see the damage in your wake

Still failing to accept your reality even after decades, if not centuries, after what happened, you continued trying to talk to the highest angels you could find, hoping to ease their decision. But, to no avail.

At first, they tried to let you down politely, telling you that the past can't be changed, that it was God's will, that it was your brother's fault. The more you tried to say something, the more they disapproved, ignoring you like they did Lucifer and his dreams, whispering behind your back. Tired from your constant attempts, they stopped answering. You were warned to stop trying unless you want to make a mistake.

You didn't want to fall like him, did you?

From Lucifer you turn on me

You whisper as if I don't see

The fear, the dread of what I'll be

Slowly being broken down by others' ignorance, you started to lose whatever remained of your hope. No-one grieved your brother, no-one missed his bright eyes full of dreams. Instead, they avoided talking about him as if he was the plague, infecting anyone who stood beside him. They hated talking about him, but seemed to love calling you a curse like him, a disaster waiting to happen.

No-one was going to forgive him, those so called epitomes of mercy and forgiveness, so what's the point?

But we don't talk about Lucifer, no, no

Slowly but surely, you accepted that he was never coming back. You had a lot of time to think about everything that happened. And what did you realise? You realised that heaven is full of liars, that God wasn't merciful, that the angels didn't care about anyone even slightly different from them, including you.

For years you stayed silent, afraid of falling like him. But you started getting tired of them either walking all over you or acting as if you didn't exist. Anyone would get exhausted by this constant abuse, even if they would rather die than admit it. Still, you were an angel. You were supposed to represent kindness, peace, forgiveness.

But how could you ever forgive them for their neglect?

We don't talk about Lucifer

...

Time to bring this family down

Yeah I'm the villain in your fairy tale now

If someone told you even a century ago that one day you will be a murderer, you would've laughed in their face, saying that it wasn't a holy thing to do. But pain changes people.

And here you were now, years later, standing over a fellow seraphim's body. Your hands and outfit were covered in golden blood, guess the angels weren't as untouchable as you were told. Their once bright halo was seemed to burn your hands, but it was worth it.

The sand's run out

And there's just you to blame

How's it feel to stain your family name

The pain meant you won, no-one else will underestimate you again. They won't dare, those scared chockens. You won't let them dismiss you again.

They could have easily avoided this situation if it wasn't for their ignorance. Sure, you brought shame to heaven. Yes, you will now forever be a monster in their eyes. But you will finally be free from them. Even if it meant losing your grace. Even if it meant falling.

I'll reclaim all that I've lost

See you understand what your apathy cost

It's your end of days and I'll still hear you say

We don't talk about Lucifer, no, no

"Y/N Morningstar. For your blasphemous murder of a fellow angel, you are sentenced to become a fallen angel, bound to rot in hell for the rest of eternity"

You couldn't remember the last time an angel was cast out. Standing in the middle of the meeting room, looked at with disgust like usual, you couldn't help but feel a sick satisfaction. You can finally be free. Free from the haunting whispers, free from the hateful glares.

The chains binding your hands burned you, slowly draining your powers. The emptiness that replaced your once beautiful wings felt haunting, blood dripping from your back. Ever the optimist, you still found a sense of beauty in the emptiness. Losing something so connected to your past was a price to pay for a new beginning. One could even call it poetic.

Sera ordered to open the portal to hell. You looked around you one more time, trying to memorize this moment. The faces of your once colleagues, the looks mixed with pity and disgust, the silent questions about what happened to you.

In your last moment in heaven, just before being pushed into the portal, you couldn't help but say:

"Should have talked about Lucifer"

A/N: Hi! This is my first ever songfic ever so I'd be happy to hear your feedback. I have a habit of daydreaming about fandoms and songs at the same time and thought it might be interesting to combine them. I already have another idea what to write about one of the other Lydia the bard's songs, so I'll probably post something about it in the next few days. Hope you enjoyed the angst ;)

#hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #angst #songfic #oneshot

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dtfpeta · 10 months

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Stubborn as a Mule | Price x Fem Reader

Tags: porn with plot, non canon compliant, slight gore, angst, angst/comfort, reserved price, medic!reader, switch!price, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Captain Price doesn't want to seek help for an afflicted wound caused while on a mission. When he does, he learns that doctor's visits aren't so bad if you are acting as his nurse.

Read here on ao3!

__________

It had been less than a day since the mission at the Embassy had to be aborted. Nearly all of the task force had been injured to some extent as evacuation efforts were initiated. With this came more stitches and sutures than you could handle as you tended to civilians in urgent need of care while simultaneously patching up your team.

It was an honest to god miracle that your team didn't suffer any fatalities by the looks of their injuries and their bone-deep exhaustion that had peaked once you made it back to home base. The base was quiet. Ghost and Roach sat on a couch in a dark corner off to the back where they polished their guns and took inventory, both suffering from a sprained leg or ankle that was accompanied by other bandaged appendages yet insisted on getting back to work. Gaz paced the floor, operating his neck from side to side in mechanical like motions to ease the crick in his neck as he impatiently glanced at the sling that contained his right arm. Though most of the men had endured some moderate to low level of blunt force trauma, Soap laid in the infirmary of the medical bay as he had suffered a skull fracture. Thankfully, the injury could have been far worse. No surgery was needed and he was prescribed a dosage of Tylenol for the pain as well as being advised to stay on a lengthened bed rest while the injury healed. Soap, of course, argued through a slurry of words that became incomprehensible after a professionally administered amount of hydrocodone. Thus, increasing his level of inebriated rage at the idea of taking leave which would be discussed at a further date. And most definitely argued against.

Price miraculously remained unharmed. Apart from some scratches and bruises to various parts of his body, of course.

"Captain, are you sure there's nothing you need my help with?" You were fatigued beyond reason but this was your job, and sometimes that included 36 hours of no rest. It was your responsibility to make sure the task force was in prime health and that meant putting their needs above your own when called for. Your efforts didn't go unnoticed by any means though. In fact, many offered their help in the infirmary even though their medical knowledge consisted of first-level basics and the handy usage of a tourniquet. They all however, thanked you for your assistance. And if not verbally some would provide a kind yet limp smile or a hand on the shoulder as an acknowledgment of your work.

Price, however, typically resorted to a firm but simple nod. The man now sat in his office revising a map of the area, glasses set low on his nose, and red sharpie hanging out his mouth in place of his usual cigar. You had just passed by to check in for the nth time if he really was okay when his eyes raised above the rim of his glasses to meet yours. It was a gruesome mission and although he was your experienced captain, he was notorious for writing off bloodied abrasions as a casual sore "Positive." He declared. You weren't going to force him into the medical bay but you did want to stress the consequences of an untreated injury. "Mm'kay Captain, but just so you're aware an untreated wound will only mean more doctor's visits." You commented with a fox-like smile. Unimpressed.

Price responded with a low hum of acknowledgment as he averted his attention from you. You guess that the idea of being in your presence was less egregious than you predicted. Or maybe he just didn't care to bother with your theatrics, which was the more plausible explanation. * 2 more days had passed when everyone had seemed to return to the swing of things. Though still restricted in their abilities, now was the time to talk strategy in a mundane routine of meetings. Some of which you weren't required to attend as they pertained to the personal performance of the other soldiers. And though the idea of peaking in while Price grilled his subordinates was appealing, there was work to be done in the infirmary.

The time seemed to pass slower the more you looked at the clock. Eventually, 1:39 became 1:50, which became 1:58, and then 2:03 until you decided your frequent glances only seemed to put some sort of curse on the damned thing. You were brought out of your self-induced frustration by a knock at your office door that connected to the infirmary. "Come in." You said before seeing an army green hat fill the windowed slot of the door. "Captain! I'm really hoping you aren't here to tell me I was right because I am not afraid to tell you 'I told you so-oh-'" Your eyes widened at the sight of your superior walking through the office door with an obvious limp that caused him to clutch the handle of the door, his gaze trained to the ground as he spoke.

"Yeah, yeah. We can get the whole squad in on a celebration after you fix this damn leg-!" He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth after mistakenly applying pressure to his right leg, which now showed a visible blood stain.

You moved quickly to place yourself under his shoulder. Moving your hand to grab at his side and the other to hold his arm as you supported the part of his weight that he couldn't bear. He then laid on a wheeled bed with a long sigh and taut eyebrows that drew together from the pain.

You looked at him with a regretful expression. A silent apology for the mocking mixed with a tinge of disappointment that he was in this situation to begin with. A situation which you had predicted, and given his avoidant attitude, told you that this injury didn't happen on base. You began to roll the stiff cargo of his pants up. Doing your best to be gentle as possible while fighting the adrenaline that told you this wasn't going to be good. The now rolled-up hem of his pant leg began to expose the bleeding wound, the touch of the material eliciting a searing hiss from the man below you.

"Shit, Cap'." You whispered. To call it a gash would be an understatement. What may have once been a gash was now a raised laceration that had become inflamed. You donned your surgical gloves before placing a tender hand to the reddened lump on his leg. Price bit his cheek at the pain as a yellow-like fluid began to leave the wound. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?" You questioned, the disappointed gaze returning to your eyes.

"S' just a flesh wound." He dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"An infected one... you aren't as dumb and dense as all that so I figure you were just too stubborn." You turned to gather your supplies to dress and disinfect the area when you realized his wound looked too gnarly to have only developed in 3 days. "Captain, what happened on the field? Whatever caused this would have caught your attention sooner." You knew the most likely explanation for the worsened state of the wound was, but to hear it from the horse's mouth would give you confidence in your treatment as well as a chance for him to feel guilty about not approaching you sooner.

He sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "To tell ya' the truth I didn't notice it at first. Just a sharp pain n' a scratch." He glanced at you before returning his line of sight to his leg. "It was right after the explosion. The one that sent the debris towards me n' Soap. He was bleedin' real bad and by the time I got him to you the heli was comin' in. Forgot about it is all...till now."

You returned to the marred limb, gauze placed in both palms of your gloved hands. "It's most likely shrapnel lodged below the skin. I'm going to drain the abscess and remove it, okay? You want something to hold onto?"

Price chuckled, "No love, I don't think a styrofoam 'stress ball' will help either of us, yeah?"

So stubborn... You leaned in to drain the wound of the puss and blood that now seeped down his calf. Apart from the initial jolt of pain and the strained muscles of his hands on the railing that caused his veins to take a defined shape, Price remained relatively still. You used forceps to remove what you discovered was a bomb fragment from his leg and applied saline solution followed by sterile gauze.

The fragment itself was maybe no longer than an inch, making it a bitch to have it pulled out of one's body. Regardless, having any foreign object pulled out of the body wouldn't be a blast.

You turned back to your superior, an animated smirk on your face in an attempt to revive the now solemn mood. "All right! You've been a good boy Captain. Let me get you a sucker and some gauze for you to dress it with later. Of course, I would offer to do it myself but you'd probably prefer to deal with it on your own." Your tone was light but Price still disregarded your observation. "And some antibiotics. Twice a day for a week." You placed the bandages and supplies beside him and turned to return your instruments to their cabinet.

A hushed "Thanks" was all you heard before turning to see that the injured soldier had left the infirmary. * Another long day of being planted in your office went by. Price's injury report was added to the list of paperwork that piled on your desk. Begging to be completed or nonetheless, acknowledged. As you were going to return to your office from checking on Soap you noticed the gauze that laid on the bedding Price occupied. Which also reminded you to add the changing of those sheets to your to-do list.

The time was past 11 o'clock pm already. He was sure to be in his room. You exhaled a breath of irritation. Not only will he not help himself, he won't ask you (the professional) for any either. You grabbed at the bandages and began to march to his room.

When you reached the door of his living quarters you lifted your hand to knock but hesitated. He ought to learn the consequences of not taking care of himself. Or listening to medical advice. You thought, but quickly dismissed the idea of abandonment. You were only six inches away from the door and saw the orange tinted light that shone from the bottom crack of the entrance. With a lid of ignorance placed on the bubbling nervousness in the pit of your stomach, you planted a quick but low knock to the door. That was an awful knock... There's no way he heard it. Or maybe he's asleep. You waited a few moments before raising your fist to knock again when the door opened. Behind the door stood Price in a black cotton shirt and long pajama pants. His face wore a quizzical expression before eyeing you up and down and groaning at the sight of the gauze.

"It's nearly midnight," He spoke in a low, sleep glazed tone. "You planning on haunting me in my dreams too? I can't do with more nightmares, love." A quick flush spread on your face before replying, "I think that would be called a dream, Cap'. Plus I saw the light on so don't act so exhausted."

"S' just my nightlight." He said with a blank face.

The crickets that chirped outside the base suddenly became deafening as a silence settled between the two of you. Before you could properly react he interjected, "M' joking... you gonna come in?"

A smile spread across your face as you entered his room. You would have never made fun of him for actually having a nightlight. You're sure it could provide comfort to anyone, especially the scarred soldiers of 141 who typically kept to themselves. It was good, however, to see that his funny bone remained undamaged. "Okay well, you know the drill. Get on the bed soldier." The phrase suddenly sounded more on the nose than intended. If Price had noticed your somewhat suggestive choice of wording, he didn't make it apparent and did as he was instructed. As he crossed the floor you took in the scene of his room. Relatively clean. Actually, really clean, and not much decorating the walls apart from some photos and a few select 80's band posters. On his desk sat a lamp that lit the room a soft but not overbearing orange that allowed for the shadows of the room to make their home for the night. Next to the lamp were his dog tags and a notebook with a pencil sticking out of the bottom acting as a bookmark. Hopefully I didn't interrupt him.

Price cleared his throat from across the room. "You planning on snooping some more or are you gonna get t' work?"

You scoffed before placing yourself on the floor next to his cot. Price sat on the edge, his leg propped up and pant leg already hiked to his knee.

"You know you're very presumptuous Captain. Not even a please." You placed his leg in your lap before removing the bandages from his leg. "I'm not your personal nurse, and if I didn't know any better I'd think you planned this from the start." You teased.

"Yer' delusional love." Love "You caught me, I got a piece of bomb caught in my leg so I could hear ya' talk nonsense for an hour." He finished with a light laugh.

You both fell into light conversation as you worked to dress his leg. You frequently cast your eyes up to look at the man above you. The light of the lamp mixing with your iris, creating a new hue that Price began to familiarize himself with.

Before you could finish, you noticed Price reach his hand behind his neck to massage at the muscle with a strained expression. "I'm gonna get you something." You began.

"I don't need anything."

You paused before looking at him, the playful impression on your face replaced with a more meaningful one. "I'm getting you something."

With that, you got up and hurried to the infirmary to retrieve a pain reliever. You returned with the pill and a bottle of water that he gratefully accepted from you. You took your place back on the ground beside his cot so you could finish your work on his bandage when you looked back up at him, "You think you’d be better on your feet considering how much you tiptoe around me." You tsk'd. "Could've avoided all this mess."

It was Price's turn to flush at the comment when he shook his head. "I don't 'tiptoe'."

"Oh. You tiptoe."

"I just try t' stay out of your way," He said, turning his head to the side to face away from you. "Maybe I'm just not a fan of doctors." He quipped, a smile plastering on his face. You didn't believe that for one bit.

"Besides. I'm glad I didn't avoid it."

You finished your work when you craned your head to look up at him, his eyes already peering at you. You had always had pleasant conversation with Price, a consistent banter that seemed to dwindle in recent weeks. Thus, making you question his enjoyment of your easy-going friendship. As you locked eyes a new emotion appeared in his gaze. It wasn't annoyance, or anger, or any form of irritation, and it undoubtedly wasn't playful. At least from your interpretation.

He haunched his elbows on his knees as he leaned into the now diminishing space between you two, eyes scattering to explore the features of your face.

"Never noticed that." He spoke in a near whisper. Price raised a hand to brush his fingers against a scar that ran above your eyebrow.

You reached to feel at the now faded lance, your hand brushing against his own. "I hardly remembered I had it."

The proximity between you two encouraged thoughts you hadn't had the luxury to divulge yourself into for some time. It wasn't professional to cross such a boundary, especially with Captain Price. But until now, they had only been short-lived fantasies just out of reach.

Price wrapped his fingers between yours, joining your hands as his other came to reach for your cheek. You were sure of that look on his face now. It was want. Which now verged on the crest of need.

"Price..." You spoke.

You didn't want to be arrogant in assuming Price enjoyed this intimacy as much as you did. He was the one to initiate it, however, you knew that. So if he didn't mind crossing a few boundaries you weren't going to stop him. Both of his hands now cradled the sides of your face as you roamed your own to the inner part of his thighs above his knee.

Price sucked in a breath, he wasn't even sure if you reciprocated his feelings until a few minutes ago and now he felt like he was at major risk of complicating things between you two. Before he could morally battle with himself you brought your lips to his for a soft and testing kiss. A grin extended to his face as he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming to find home at the nape of your neck and into your hair. The stubble that covered the lower expanse of his face was sharp against your skin. His plush lips provided a nice contrast as the kiss became more fervent and you rushed to push off your lab coat. Your shoes having been discarded long ago as you made yourself comfortable in the private space of your Captain's room.

"Oi, let's get rid of this too hm?" You stood to remove your shirt with the help of Price's urgent hands who then worked the button of your pants undone till you were left in nothing but a bra and underwear. You were in a near bare state while Price remained in his pajamas. The only evidence of promiscuity being his red stained lips and the half-hard erection in his pants.

"This isn't very fair Captain." You laughed nervously while placing your arms over your body.

Price grabbed at your arms, pulling them from the skin they hid. "Nah none of that. Too beautiful not to let me see." You let your arms fall as he reached to remove his shirt which was then added to the pile of other "unnecessaries" behind you.

"You consider that even playing ground?" You ridiculed. But Price ignored the comment before pulling you to his lap. Thighs now straddling his hips as he began his assault of red love marks against your neck.

"Mmm what was that?" He questioned through muffled lips. The bra was next to be removed. Becoming too frantic to feel his touch, you wanted to provide whatever expanse of skin you had to him. Let him do what he wanted. And he gratefully accepted. His mouth latched to the bud of your hardening nipple while his palm moved to the swell of your breast. A soft moan left your lips at the sensation. His mouth lapped and circled the bud while his fingers twisted and pulled at its counterpart, sending a rush of heat between your thighs.

You ground against Price's lap to find that his erection had become rock solid. The man below you let out a groan as he toyed with your chest. Your hips moved back and forth to provide friction for both of you. The tip of his cock now rocked against your clothed clit, sending your head flying backward and your mouth agape. Price watched your face, his eyelids hanging low from the drunken euphoria you were granting him.

"S-so good" You stuttered. The pleasure was near drowning when the hand that laid on your chest disconnected. Leaving it cold until Price moved to focus the attention of his mouth where his hand once was. He rutted his hips up into your fabric covered core, allowing for his growled noises of pleasure to settle in your ears. His licks against your breast soon became bites that left an imprint of his canines against your skin. He then sucked at the reddened mark to ease the pain, alternating between sinking his teeth into you and pulling your nipple into his mouth. The pleasure was soon heightened by his hand moving to trace at your cunt. The fabric of which was now wet from what once was "dry" humping.

His fingers traced at your clit providing a sensation that left you shuttering above him but in need of more. Which he soon provided as the fabric of your panties was moved to the side to allow him access to your flesh. "I shoulda' taken you sooner" He breathed as his hand delved into your wanting heat. Gathering your slick with two fingers to then massage back into your bundle of nerves. A string of whimpers began to leave your mouth as his pace oscillated from quickened strokes to torturously slow. "Tell me what you need, love."

Your head was hot. You didn't think you could form words if you wanted to. His touch being the only thing your mind could wrap around as your desperate whines began to amplify. "I know sweetheart, but try your best."

You swallowed the pool of saliva that settled on your tongue. "More. Please Captain, I-I need it."

Price grunted at the use of his rank, knowing that he wouldn't be able to think of anything but this moment the next time someone addressed him. He complied to your wishes by taking one of his slick covered fingers and pushing it into your walls. Roaming the hot smooth flesh of your insides while he searched for the sensitive patch of nerves inside.

"You're swallowing me, love" Price watched as your body took in his finger, your pussy keeping him in a vice-like grip that made him groan at the feeling, only being able to imagine his cock disappearing between your legs in place of his hand. He needed to work you open though. Make you ready for him. He soon added in a second finger, glancing up at you to watch your face pinch together from the stretch.

With the help of his second finger, he was able to find the exact spot he was looking for as he thrusted the digits into you, eliciting a blatant moan from you. His fingers scissored into you, now working to stretch you open as he curled in and out of your cunt.

"You think you're ready for me, or do you want to keep feeling my fingers in you?" Your eyes met his as you fervidly nodded your head. "Need you."

It was your turn to take control. Pushing him back to lie on the bed you reminded him of the importance of recovery.

"You should do your best to avoid any strain, Captain." You saddled yourself above his aching cock, his length fighting against the fabric of his pajama pants and boxers that restrained him. "I wouldn't mind taking the reigns for you."

You leaned in for another passionate kiss, your tongues exploring one another's mouth as you both maneuvered to remove his bottoms. "Me neither, love."

He watched you admire his length with a smirk. The size almost made you wish he worked his fingers in you a bit longer if it weren't for the insatiable hunger you had for all of him to be in you. You assumed your position above him, letting him place his hands on your thighs which soon reached to grab at the flesh of your ass. You took his cock in your hands to spread between your folds. Gathering your slick to act as a lubricant before lowering yourself down him. You heard his breath shudder as his head breached your sex. The stretch was more than you could imagine and caused your cunt to burn as you slowed your descent on him.

"Take your time, sweetheart-!" Price grit his teeth at the torment your tight pussy was putting him through. He wanted to be patient and allow you to take your time but his desire was reaching its pique. He needed you just as badly if not more then he was leading on. The hands on your hips helped guide you down his shaft.

"Fuck, Price!" You softly cried, only being halfway down his length. Just as the stretch began to subside, Price dug his heels into the bed to thrust into you, causing you both to moan at the sudden pleasure. Your breathing picked up as you began to bounce on him, his hips pushing up into your cunt as you timed your rhythm to meet with him. Your hands came to wrest on Price's wrist as he watched your sex devour his soaked cock. Taking it in its entirety as he rutted into your g-spot.

You continued to ride his length. The pain was far from gone and only replaced with a feeling of your nerves being kickstarted. The fiery feeling spread through your arms and legs as you quickened your pace.

Price felt you clench around him and let out a whimper of pleasure. His hand moved from your hip to place his thumb on your neglected clit. He circled the slick bud, causing stars to blur your vision. He strengthened the thrust of his hips as your orgasm made its approach. Your legs shaking while the grip you had on one of his wrists was sure to leave a bruise.

"Let it out, love" Price encouraged in a thick glazed tone. "Cum for me darling, please." He struggled to keep himself composed as your cunt spasmed around him. A desperate moan left your lips as you ground against his pelvis to ride out your high. The nerves in your limbs fired off like sparks as Price let out a final grunt, filling you with his hot seed.

You rose off of him as your pussy elicited a wet vulgar sound before you collapsed next to him, his arm resting underneath your head as he placed his hand to your face. He let out a sigh as he placed his lips to yours once again. A tender kiss that told you a sincere thank you for caring for him as well as a message of his endearment to you. You smiled into the kiss before he separated to grab a rag to clean you both up with.

He returned and placed himself between your spread legs, using gentle strokes to clean up the mess he made. He apologized for finishing in you but was met with a dismissive hand from you. Clarifying to him that you were on birth control provided by the modern advancements in technology.

He smiled before cleaning himself off and coming to lay beside you. "You know," he began "I think next time you should wear those gloves of yours."

You laughed at his out of left-field suggestion. "I try to keep work and play separate, actually" "Pshht hardly!" He replied before falling into a fit of laughter. You rolled your eyes before slapping him against the arm. "Well at least not anymore..." He finished with a glance to the wall.

"Guess I'll just have to make more visits to the doctor then." He suggested before you drifted to sleep in his arms, knowing you'd have to plan a clean escape in the morning.

#call of duty #cod smut #price x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #price smut

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