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womburt · 2 years

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Hi! I saw that your requests were open and was wondering if you could write a Helsknight X reader post? :D

And if you don't write for him maybe something with any hermit where the reader is like rouge code that's hijacked the sever?

Reader with they/them pronouns please!

Knight in Sopping-Wet Armor; Helsknight x Reader

Hi Anon! I’ll admit I did not know very much about Helsknight, but I had a lot of fun looking into him while I was researching (watching last seasons Hermitcraft lol)! It was fun to reminisce

I may or may not have gotten a lil carried away, I just love the enemies to lovers trope! Also! Can we tell that my favorite cliche is cuddles?? I’ve only written it into 5/7 fics ive posted…

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

*Warning! This fic contains profanity! Don’t read if this could upset you!

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Y/n was a very lucky hermit to have a neighbor like Welsknight.

They thought this to themself as they leisurely walked toward his house, enjoying the sunshine of the day. Wels was such a generous friend, always willing to help. Which is why they often found themself at his door when they needed assistance or supplies. This was one of those times.

Stopping in front of the large wooden door, Y/n raised a fist and knocked politely, rocking back and forth on their feet. The door swung open soon after, only to reveal a form Y/n was not expecting.

Ruby red eyes caught their gaze, narrowed and untrusting. Thick, dark eyebrows lay heavy above them, a long, roman nose settled in between them. Y/n felt their voice catch in their throat as they admired him, taking in all his features. Their heart rate picked up at the sight of him. He was frowning at Y/n, lips drawn into a thin line.

“You’re trespassing.” He spoke up after a moment, voice low and unsettling. There was little inflection to his tone, clearly uninterested in interacting with Y/n for very long.

They raised their eyebrows at his claim, tilting their head in confusion.

“Me? You’re the stranger standing in Wels’ doorway. Where is he?” Y/n accused, shaking their head and matching his stare with an intimidating one of their own, or at least - as intimidating as they could manage.

The man didn’t bat an eye at their allegation, looking them up and down without moving his head. Y/n suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It was as if he was assessing them, looking them over for any weak points. Subconsciously, they crossed their arms over their chest, hugging themself.

“Go away.” He turned up his head, denying them a true answer.

Y/n narrowed their own eyes defiantly.

“Is he in there? Wels!” They asked before shouting over the tall man’s shoulder. Y/n peeked over him on their tip toes, searching for any sign of their knightly friend.

The stranger was taken aback, raising his hands to block their view and voicing his frustrations.

“Y/n?” Wels’ voice was quiet, seemingly coming from upstairs. Y/n made an ‘Aha!” sound of victory and shoved their way past the stranger, locating Wels’ stairs. They bumped the dark-haired man into the wall as they did so, ignoring his mumbled complaints.

Y/n took the stairs two at a time, finding Wels on the second floor, completely unharmed. He was ruffling through chests, looking strangely calm for there being a strange man in his home.

“Wels! Who is that man downstairs? He’s rude.” Y/n asked with a sigh of relief, sitting down on Wels’ bed.

The blond laughed at their expression, continuing whatever task he’d been doing before they rushed upstairs.

“That, my dear, is Helsknight.”

Before they had a chance to ask about him further, the man in question was standing at the top of the stairs, glaring at Y/n’s form on the bed.

“Welsknight, your friend is obnoxious. Do they always shove their way into the house like this?”

Y/n rolled their eyes and flopped back on Wels’ bed dramatically, avoiding the violent look they knew the stranger- Helsknight was sending their way.

“Wels, would you tell your friend I would not have had to shove my way into the house if he had just gotten out of the way?”

They heard Helsknight scoff and resisted the urge to pick up a pillow and toss it at his attractive stupid face.

“Welsknight, does your friend know it’s impolite to come in uninvited?”

“Wels! Could you tell-”

“Okay that’s enough!” Wels cut Y/n off, making his way to the center of the room.

They sat up on his bed, watching as the man put his hands on his hips, looking in between the both of them. He was smiling despite his frustration.

“Hels, don’t be mean to Y/n. They can come and go as they please. Y/n, you’ll have to excuse Hels, he’s not thrilled to be here.”

All were quiet for a second, Y/n finally looking away from Wels to stare at Helsknight. He was already glaring at them of course, scarlet eyes watching them defensively.

Y/n was the first to break, looking away from Hels and standing up from the bed entirely. “Okay. He’s here and I’ll ignore him when he’s rude. Anyway, I came over to ask if you had any honey? I ran out.”

Wels relaxed his posture a bit, hands falling down from his hips to hang at his sides casually.

“Sure do! It’s downstairs.”

The blond found his way to the staircase quickly, slipping past Hels with a polite smile. Y/n followed cautiously, pausing when Hels stepped in front of them and blocked their way down. Looking up at him with a sickenly sweet smile, Y/n tilted their head. “Excuse you,” they spoke quietly so that Wels wouldn’t hear.

Hels ignored them, instead leaning down to be closer to their level. Y/n’s breath caught in their throat as Hels’ mouth neared their ear, feeling his exhale on their skin.

“You’re supposed to say ‘excuse me,” Hels corrected. He was quiet in their ear, sending shivers down their back. Y/n gulped and tried not to let him see how shaken they were.

Laying a hand on his shoulder, Y/n carefully pushed past Hels, surprised by how easily he fell back and allowed them to pass.

“You’re excused,” they teased without looking back, too busy trying to calm their racing heart.

As it turned out, having Helsknight for a neighbor was about as pleasant as Y/n had expected.

Their usual visits to Wels’ house in the early mornings were now accompanied by the rude knight. He insisted on being a part of all their conversations, butting in to mock Y/n whenever he could. Y/n still tried to go over as often as they could manage, but they had to admit, the brunet knight made the trips less desirable.

That wasn’t all of course.

Helsknight had come up with a multitude of ways to make Y/n’s day-to-day routine more annoying. He hid behind trees when they walked home at night, jumping out to spook them when they weren’t paying attention. When Hels had free time, he often found himself rooting around in Y/n’s house. They’d caught him on multiple occasions and demanded he leave, but he always just smiled and ignored them.

Most recently, the dark knight had taken to sitting around at Y/n’s megabase and pestering them whilst they built.

He reclined against the large mass of chests they’d accumulated (an organized mess of course! Certainly not a chest monster-), head draped over the wooden crates. His helmet was on the grass next to him, eyes looking ahead at Y/n, who was perched atop their tall structure.

“You missed a spot there.” The pale man called out, looking away from Y/n to stare at the slowly darkening sky instead. Heavy clouds were just starting to cover the sky, the sun making its departure over the horizon. He smirked when they groaned, their voice just barely audible from their height. He fought the urge to look back at them, positive they were already looking down at him bitterly.

Y/n, gave Hels a quick glare before looking at their build again. They were embarrassed to see he was right, and hadn’t just been pointing out nonexistent problems to annoy them. They bit their tongue and filled in the gap, refusing to acknowledge him any more than they already had. In the weeks that Hels had been bothering them, Y/n had learned that he fed on their anger. Every time they gave him a reaction, he smiled and did something worse.

Turning back to where they’d been working before, Y/n wiped sweat off of their forehead and got back to work.

“Don’t you have anything better to do besides sit here and point out my mistakes?” They yelled back at him nonchalantly. They remained expressionless, trying to sell their indifference to him.

Hels sat up a bit, eyes following Y/n as they lumbered away at their project. He waited for them to glance back at him, and frowned when he realized they weren’t going to. That simply would not do.

Hels stood up from the ground, walking up to their build. He raised a hand to block the last of the sunlight from his eyes, standing just underneath them. He was still far out of reach due to how high up they’d built.

“Nothing’s more important to me than pointing out your mistakes.”

Y/n scoffed but kept quiet. They refused to look down at him, knowing he was standing there with that stupid smirk, waiting for them to tell him to fuck off.

Hels’ face fell again, dissatisfied with their lack of retort. He shifted back and forth on his feet, metal-clad boots digging into the earth. He opened his mouth to sass them again when a loud crash sounded throughout the sky.

Hels felt tiny droplets of rain begin to hit the top of his head. He grumbled with displeasure, leaving his hand in the air to guard his eyes. The knight spared a glance to his helmet which was still on the ground. He debated putting it back on, but ultimately decided against it. Too much hassle for not enough protection.

Y/n ignored the rain, focusing on their work. They’d gotten a good night's rest in order to build nonstop, they weren’t going to let a bit of rain get in their way.

Off in the distance, there was a bright flash of lightning. It lit up the sky, revealing shaking trees that moved with the wind. The storm began to pick up, splashing harder than before.

“You should come down from there,” Hels shouted up at Y/n, shivering from the cold. He was thoroughly soaked at this point, the droplets slipping through the breaks in his armor and dampening his clothes. Hels watched Y/n carefully, knowing they had no metal defense from the storm.

Their clothes were stuck to their body, but Y/n kept going. Hels’ face twisted when he realized they were ignoring him. He dropped his hand from his face, allowing the rain to barrage him from all angles.

“Hey! Y/n! I said you should get down.”

He was shouting at that point, loud enough to be heard over the whipping wind.

Y/n ignored him still, continuing work on their project, not yet willing to call it a night. They took a step forward without looking.

Y/n’s heart dropped to the bottom of their stomach as their foot began to slide. They quickly tried to put their hands up and catch their balance, but it was too late. They shut their eyes as they toppled backward off of the base, cursing themself for choosing to build something so tall. They tensed their body, bracing themself for the crash.

Before they could, however, Y/n’s fall was interrupted. Sturdy arms caught them just before they hit the ground, one under their knees, and the other on their back, just under their arms. Y/n could feel a solid chest pressed up against their side, the cold metallic armor pressing their soaked shirt impossibly closer to their body.

They were shaking, though unsure if it was because of the cold or the adrenaline. Regardless, Y/n felt themself lean into the chest, searching for human contact. Their eyes remained shut, unwilling to meet the gaze of the man they knew they would see.

“I tried to tell you,” Hels mumbled in an uncharacteristically soft voice, tucking his head close to Y/n’s. He noted their shivering and squeezed their leg reassuringly.

Y/n didn’t answer. Under normal circumstances, they’d be scrambling to get away from the knight. They knew he’d tease them about this for weeks. But these were not normal circumstances, and despite the solid layer of armor that was between them, Y/n could feel Hels’ breaths with the way his chest plate moved. Each exhale and inhale grounded them. So they ignored the way their brain screamed at them to get away, and tucked their head into him.

Hels froze, feeling them shift even closer to him. Rain be damned, there was a beautiful person trying to bury themself in him right now. The brunet cleared his throat and spun his head from side to side, searching for a way out of the downpour.

He set his sights on the trail he’d taken out to their megabase. It was shielded by a thick layer of treetops. Some rain was still getting through the canopy, but it was much less than where they stood now.

Without another word, Hels walked toward the path. Absentmindedly, he stroked the exposed skin on Y/n’s knee where he held them. If the cradled person noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Silently, Hels carried Y/n through the forest, looking down every once in a while to make sure they were still breathing. Y/n remained quiet, sniffling occasionally from the cold.

They made it to Y/n’s starter base eventually, Hels shutting the door behind himself. He kicked off his shoes carefully, trying to minimize the water he tracked into their house. Flicking on a light on a nearby wall, Hels found their couch.

He sat them on it gently, slipping his arms out from underneath them. Y/n immediately curled themself into a ball, suddenly feeling very lonely from the loss of contact. They turned to face the inside of the couch, hiding in the cushions. They heard Hels wander away, but tried not to think much of it.

Minutes later, Y/n felt a fuzzy blanket envelop their form. They gathered all their courage and faced outward, cautiously opening their eyes.

Hels had his back to them. He was no longer wearing his armor, nor the underclothes Y/n had seen before. Somewhere in their house, he’d found a sweater and loose pants that seemed to be his. Y/n realized he must've left them in their house somewhere during one of his previous visits. They were surprised they hadn’t noticed the clothes around the house before.

He spun around to look at them again, a stack of clothes in his hands. Dark red eyes met theirs, and Y/n noted that the way he stared at them was unusually soft. They gulped and waited for him to speak.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes.” He finally said, handing the stack to them and looking away. Y/n noticed a red flush to his cheeks, but did not voice their observation.

Knowing he was right, they sighed and pulled the blanket off of themself.

“Turn around?” They prompted in a tiny voice, having not used it since they’d fallen. Hels complied, spinning on his heel to face the wall.

Y/n made quick work of changing their clothes, sighing in relief when they finished. They draped the blanket over their shoulders again and stood up, approaching Hels from behind.

Y/n argued with themself silently for a minute, fingers bunching the blanket together as they tried to gather enough courage to act on their desire. Finally willing themself to move again. Y/n wrapped their arms around Hels’ middle, pulling him into a tight hug.

The knight tensed, jolting from shock. They were both quiet, neither daring to say anything out of fear the other would pull away. Cautiously, Hels laid his hands on top of Y/n’s, holding them to his body. He fidgeted and turned around so that Y/n’s was hugging his frontiside, leaning down to embrace them as well.

Y/n sighed in relief, breathing in Hels’ scent. His hair was still damp, but vaguely they could smell his conditioner and the soap he’d used to wash his clothes. It was inviting, the clean smell and warm hug. They couldn’t bring themself to let go.

Hels was the first to say something, mumbling from above them. Y/n could barely make out what he was saying, catching only the words “rest” and “sleep.”

They hummed into his chest, still too embarrassed to look up at him. Y/n felt gentle hands leave their waist and find their shoulders, where they were pushed back toward the couch. They allowed themself to be shown the way, finding himself sitting beside the very tense knight.

Hels was beside them, back straight and eyes watching them carefully. Without another thought, Y/n leaned into him. They brought their legs up on top of his, tangling them together and making themself comfortable.

After a moment, Hels relaxed too, wrapping himself around Y/n. He pointedly ignored the way his heart pounded, hoping they couldn’t hear it through his skin. Y/n snuggled into him peacefully, shutting their eyes for some much needed sleep.

“Good morning sleepyhead! I bro- Oh my!”

Wels shouted in surprise, dropping the platter of breakfast food he’d made to share with his neighbor.

Y/n shot up straight at the noise, crying out when they hit their head on something hard.

“Motherfucker!” a second voice shouted, this one much closer, and much groggier. Y/n’s face felt hot as they looked up to see a sleepy Helsknight holding his jaw in pain.

They rubbed the top of their head sheepishly, scrambling off of the couch and away from the brunet, who’d yet to open his eyes.

“Sorry! Oh my- why’re you here?” They asked Wels, trying to calm their racing heart, not yet willing to acknowledge the yawning man on their couch that they’d just been cuddled up to.

“To think, I took care of you last night, this is how you repay me? With a bruised skull?” Hels teased with his drowsy morning-voice, that stupid smirk finding its way back to him.

Y/n buried their head in their hands, hiding from the world as Wels’ laughter echoed through their house. They’d never hear the end of this.

#hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft #helsknight #helsknight x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader

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intertexts-moving · 1 year

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HHHHHHHHHHH

so funny story i saw that post you made some time ago when you were liveblogging the cloak scene, the "did it hurt" scene and it significantly changed my view

also ive never looked at their second meeting that way before. i have many thoughts re: first conversation, first interaction (? is it an interaction when you try to flirt with a stranger up the banister and they ignore you?,,, asking for a friend), but never paid much attention to the ehem conVENIENT "you fall i catch" thing beyond how weirdly interesting it is. since wkx has no romantic/platonic/personal-anything intention at all at that point, but subconsciously is very much drawn to the guy still. but yeah actually, this is kind of spot on. HH oh god fuck im not going to be normal about this. i thought i was insane when i clocked that their first conversation, when wkx starts talking about that butcher and about how it must be impossible for someone to have that level of skill as zzs being in disguise without any traces of it at all suggests, has so many layers already. hes speaking there as if he has perceived zzs without realizing it. perceived him as this guy who has basically made himself into a myth (like wkx himself!) and as this thing completely unattinable for him, a man mirroring him down to his soul and living a life he can only dream of. the yearning!!! ughghguhgg. the complete lack of self-awareness of it!!!! the hilarity of the situation because wkx is right, and he is literally only following a gut instinct, and he has no idea!!! i thought i was overthinking it a little. im glad im not alone there, seeing things in their first interactions that, without ever really being talked about, ripple deep into the story??

and oh a mutual tag! thats a great idea im going to do that too. siren is very much fine, what would you like me to tag you as?

YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!! yeah yeahyeah ive been thinking abt this all day actually.. like. the subconscious recognition. the like. the inherent understanding the two of them have even b4 they know each other!!! first thing zzs ever thinks abt wkx is the "somehow, in this vast sea of strangers, he still found someone who understood." the first reaction he pulls out of wkx is that hey. huh. i was right? moment when he hears him echo that he was sunbathing. & its so indicative of how they continue on out from there- iirc, wkx never tells zzs he's the ghost valley master. zzs never actively tells wkx about the nails. or any of the other shit they have going on. its the. silent hunch & feeling things out & recognition... like fumbling around in a dark room except they find the light switch every time first try.

& YEAH i havent thought abt it that way b4 but u are SO right... the inherent hilarity of wkx just. really just making fifty educated guesses in a row about zzs and each one of them hitting spot on. the way that yeah the only reason that it. Works. is bcos they genuinely are mirrors of each other& all the things they see abt the other map back onto themselves too..

also GOD. i think abt the cloak scene & wkx's way of interacting w/ zzs so much.. this is. probably bcos i'm disabled (re: chronic fatigue & illness etc.) & i've had variously disabled friends & like... idk. i recognize it!!! the way he is like. "okay. i'm treating you like normal i'm not gonna be weird about it i'm gonna try not to make you uncomfortable about it. but nevertheless if you're in pain i'm going to help you in the most straightforward way possible. idiot. just because i dont treat you like you're glass doesn't mean i'm gonna let you hurt. just because your body is slowly running down like a broken machine doesn't mean i'm gonna treat you like you're made of glass. i want to do whatever i can for you though ok?".....makes me froth at the mouth NFNSDFKSDFD.

#& YAY!! >:3333 #roswell or ros or morri all work for me :}#siren tag!#tyk lb #ohh my godd. 11pm & im overcome w/ tyk shrimp emotions yet again.aughh.

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toontowncreepypasta · 1 year

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Miles Upshur headcanons because ive been real autistic since outlast went on sale on the switch

heres just a huge dump of all my miles headcanons and interpretations im sorry it’s so fucking much ive been obsessed with this fag since i was like 13

I think Miles grew up pretty poor, his father in the military and his mother was a stay at home mom who struggled with drug addiction. he had four other sisters with him being the oldest. He ended up raising most of them, the third sister being nonverbal autistic. He was responsible at home but not really anywhere else. He also didn’t get along with his mom very well. He left the house the moment he turned 18 and didn’t look back. He’s transmasc and gay, i can’t see him being into women im sorry. hes like the only horror protagonist i can think og that isnt like oh my gof.ds...... oh my god boobs....

I think a lot of Miles very strong core values come from how he was raised and that mostly pushed him into journalism and needing to shine a light on things. i also think he was in a band when he was in highschool, and still plays guitar pretty frequently (or well, heh, did when he had his fingers.) i also think he sold his adderal and any other meds he was put on all through out highschool and college and got in trouble for it a couple times. He was one of those shitty highschool kids who were like way too smart for their own good so they spent all of their time trying to break every rule they could.

Miles and Lynn Langermann became extremely close in college, and Miles and Blake also dated in college for like two months before that imploded on itself and they never spoke to eachother again.

He’s an aries, he has ADHD and c-PTSD (and you know, now regular PTSD) and is a HORRIBLE chain smoker like it’s really fucking bad. he’s jewish. He is EXTREMELY drawn to anything dangerous or mysterious like it’s a problem he has almost no survival instincts. He is an animal to his own emotions and desires and it’s a problem, if he gets scared of something he chases after it, he doesn’t back down, he’s insanely stubborn, he’s quick to anger. But I will say he is pretty good about assessing situations, he’s lived off blind luck his entire life because he is GOOD at what he does. he always acts like he knows what he’s doing and shit usually ends up in his favor so it’s hard not to believe him. He is unaware of how mentally unwell he is, mostly because he has a habit of repressing pretty much anything traumatic that happens to him. Puts it in a little vault and keeps trudging on.

He’s anti authority and has a hard time taking orders or directions, even just from people he loves/respects. He resents any kind of restraint put on him. Miles biggest fear is death, him dying, specifically. He is scared to die before he’s ready. His second biggest fear is being forgotten/ignored. He’s somewhat of an attention whore, negative, positive, he likes to act out or preform or be wild and “out there” and have everyones eyes on him. he wants to be THE guy. no matter what hes doing he’s doing it with a hypothetical audience. That’s specifically something he struggles to drop at any time, its hard for him to be intimate with people or slow down because of it. he isn’t a narcissist though, it isn’t to an extreme extent. it’s just enough to be noticable in times of crisis. Despite all of these, Miles biggest and most dominante traits are his empathy, passion and his fixation on justice. he’s a good person all around, even if he’s a bit of trouble. he rarely if ever has ill intents to anyone who isn’t a dangerous person, and even then, he can find himself sympathizing and understanding almost anyone if given enough time.

he’s pretty fashionable but... doesn’t utilize it what so ever. he dresses like a very stereotypical binary trans masc, with a bit of occasional gothic/southern flair. he’s no stranger to eyeliner. before his transition he was very similar but in a “feminized” way, think those white southern punk girls with the chunky blonde/black streaks and bedazzled black ripped tanktops and flannels. He just went from one end of the spectrum to the other.

#miles upshur #this is so much and its so rambly excuse me

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peterthepark · 2 years

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okok let me request smt for real:: what if peter found out that you read (and write!) smut about spider-man?!!!!!!!!!! uuuh, that would be so awkardly awesome!

ong ive thought about this before and LORD he would be so mfing cocky i would slap that boy silly!!!! welp here u go enjoy 👀

stroker ace

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: nfsw and more nsfw, graphic sex, sexual tension, best friends trope, 18+ smut, kinda graphic, p in v, some foreplay, thigh riding, peter invading your privacy, mentions of bondage

note: i based this off of the song “stroker ace” by lovage so like u know what to do…

Peter Parker had been your best friend since freshman year of highschool. He had been there for everything - he’d seen you grow out of all your hair color phases, seen you experiment with makeup and your style, had taken you to homecoming for the first time when you were stood up by an upperclassman, had done edibles with you and never did it again, had taken your graduation photos and dropped you off on your first day of college with the proudest smile ever.

Peter could recite every inside joke of yours by heart and memorized all your favorite songs. He liked to think that he knew everything about you - it made him feel special and he prided himself in being the greatest friend any person could have. But Peter didn’t know exactly everything.

He didn’t know you had the biggest long term crush on Spider-Man, and he didn’t know your crush had led you to develop such a dedicated blog to the hero. On the nights that you didn’t pick up your phone after Peter had finished patrol, he had always thought you were sleeping.

No, you were up to something entirely different.

To be fair, Peter had never told you he was Spider-Man. But, he had mentioned some time ago that him and the hero knew one another - he enjoyed how the blood rushed to your cheeks and how you squealed excitedly at him, bombarding him with questions that he couldn’t answer truthfully.

You’d openly tell him about your interest of the New York hero, swooning over his slender fingers and the way that spandex suit hugged his thighs. It wouldn’t make Peter uncomfortable, rather, it would make him blush. He would never tell a soul, but the way you talked about his secret identity made him feel things - because he had been crushing on you, too, for the longest time. You’d jokingly ramble to him over the phone sometimes, saying things like ‘Do you think Spider-Man would be into bondage?’ or ‘I think I have a mask kink.’ as a flustered Peter swung from building to building. He crashed into a pole once when you sent him a picture of you in Spider-Man panties.

Peter is laying in your bed when you leave your room to shower, telling him that you’ll be back in an instant and that he cannot snoop around at all.

He decides to ignore you, and shakes his head as he sifts through several failed college chemistry exams on your study table. He would offer to tutor you from time to time, but you’d type away at that laptop of yours and shoo him off.

“Hm, now where is that…” Peter remembers he had left his skateboard here not too long ago, and rummages under piles of clothing for it. Nowhere in sight, he takes to your closet. He finds the board deep in the corner, standing upright against the wall, but his eyes are suddenly drawn to the blue light beneath a haphazardly-thrown blanket on the floor.

Was this an invasion of privacy? Well, he was your best friend. You’d forgive him, but with a little pizza and a movie marathon. Peter tosses the blanket to the side, revealing your open laptop. He glances out your bedroom door for a split second before he quietly shuts it and takes that damned laptop into his hands. You were always on it, he suddenly realizes. Peter knows this is pretty bad, and he’s breaking best friend code by completely going against your wishes. He plops onto the bed with an amused hum, and checks your Google search history. Nothing embarrassing of the sorts stood out to him, except for your recent tab that presented the question, ‘Is math real?’

Peter sighs in disappointment. There was nothing remotely interesting for him to tease you about. Until he hears a notification go off and a message pops up on screen.

spidey69: when are you gonna write again?!!

His brows furrow, “What is this?”

He notices the hidden browser. You were on incognito mode - that was his first warning sign. He shouldn’t be looking at whatever he was looking at.

Peter knows he should stop, but he doesn’t, not when it dawns over him what he’s been staring at this whole time.

It was a fucking Spider-Man blog. Your username stares back at him blankly, and he blushes at the familiar sight of his suit as your profile picture. The screen is a dark blue, and there’s red accents all over - did you design this yourself? Since when were you so techy?

His eyes widen at a sudden influx of notifications, and he hurriedly drags his fingers over the mousepad to click on a different part of your blog.

Smut.

Spider-Man smut.

“What the fuck does smut mean?” He searches up the term on his phone. Urban Dictionary is the first link he clicks.

‘Erotic writing that contains explicit, sexual content.’

He coughs loudly, covering it with his elbow as he leans forward into your laptop and scrolls through the page. Holy fucking shit.

You were writing about having sex with Spider-Man and it had been under his nose this whole time. All the times you had asked him about Spider-Man kinks, the times you’d thirsted over his physique and his suit, the way you’d perk up at the hero’s name and the way your voice would grow higher in pitch.

You didn’t just have a crush on Spider-Man, Peter thought.

You wanted Spider-Man to fuck you.

“Peter, what are you doing?”

There’s daggers in your monotone voice, and the brunette leaps from his spot in the bed. He quickly shuts the laptop, pushing it away from him as possible. He looks at you breathlessly - your hair still damp from the shower, and you wore nothing but a sports bra and old gym sweatpants.

“Nothing!” He squeaks, tossing his hands in the air to emphasize.

“Why were you on my laptop?” You approach him with long strides, leaning over his lap to take the device away. You open it, praying that he didn’t find what you trying so hard to hide. Your face fills with shock, then embarrassment, and suddenly there’s angry tears pricking at your eyes. “I told you to stay out of my stuff!” You nearly throw the laptop at him, but Peter stands to his feet and takes it away from you.

“Why are you crying?” He wants to reach out and comfort you. He shouldn’t have snooped.

“Because it’s embarrassing.”

You struggle to meet his concerned gaze, and Peter’s thoughts cut back to the things you wrote in that blog. There’s mascara on your lashes that hadn’t fully washed off in the shower, his eyes follow the blackened tears on your cheeks. It makes him hot.

Your declarations to the Internet were so bold, so unapologetic, and so fucking erotic that it was such a shocking contrast to the crying, nervous girl in front of him. Your posts were public, meaning that anyone and everyone could see how you thought about the noble Spider-Man tying you up and fucking you till your legs gave out. You shared fantasies of him coming and saving you, just for it to end with you thanking him by sucking his dick behind an alleyway. You openly pondered to thousands of followers about how his fingers would feel in your mouth, if he’d get off on eating pussy, if he’d enjoy you riding his thigh.

You continue to silently cry in front of him, arms cradling your front as you point your feet away from him. Peter knew the meanings of your body language like the back of his hand, and knew that you wanted to be left alone.

But he can’t leave you alone when your crying nearly makes his dick hard.

“Y/N, you know how I told you that I know Spider-Man?” He starts, hands outstretched.

“Oh, God. Are you gonna tell him?” You sniffle, refusing to even acknowledge how his steps were closing the distance between you two.

“I’m not.” He raises his hand, placing it on the back of your head so that you’d look at him. “Because he already knows.”

You blink at him with confusion, eyes puffy with redness. “What?”

Peter’s free hand tugs on the collar of his sweatshirt. And you see it. The neck of the Spider-Man suit peeks out from beneath, and Peter’s throat bobs as he gulps at your reaction. Your mouth parts, and your fingers mindlessly reach to touch the red material. Your eyes flicker up at him now, and he sees a tear fall down. He wipes it away, watching as your breaths grew uneven again.

“I’m sorry. Peter, oh my god. I…” You try to step away, but he grabs you by your wrists and halts you in your tracks. You look up at him with uncertainty, and you don’t miss the way his eyes darken as he gazes down at you.

Peter starts to lean in, craning his neck ever so slightly. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, and you gasp into his mouth. You let yourself fall into him, meeting his hooded stare through tearful lashes.

Peter’s lips mash against yours harshly, and you kiss him back through a jungle of clashing teeth and wet tongues. You don’t hold back your moans, opening your eyes to pull away and breathe for air.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Peter tries to kiss you again, but you don’t meet him halfway.

“I was going to…” He presses you up against the door of your bedroom, placing his hand beside your head. He kisses up your neck, nibbling on your ear. “I was going to tonight… and then I saw your blog.” You squeal softly, jumping at the slap against your ass. “Your nasty fucking blog about having sex with Spider-Man.”

His words come out as a hiss, and you find yourself fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. He takes it as a sign to get rid of it, and you shamelessly whine as he uncovers the chest of his suit. He takes you by the mouth again, breathing through his nose like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I had a feeling…” You sigh into him, as he rolls your head to the side to get better access to your neck. “… that it was you, Peter.”

“Can we talk about this later?” The confession doesn’t shake him. All he can think about is your smutty writing and the things that you promised you’d do to Spider-Man if you ever got to touch him.

“You don’t think I’ve looked at you, Peter?” You whisper as he towers over you. He holds your chin gently, tilting your jaw up. “I’ve seen your wounds. You don’t think I’ve thought about how similar my best friend and Spider-Man looked?” He kisses the left side of your face. “You don’t think I’ve noticed your mannerisms mimicked his so perfectly?” Then, he kisses the right. “You don’t think I’ve thought about my best friend fucking me… the same way I have about Spider-Man?”

Peter moans, slowly guiding your hand to the tent in his grey sweatpants. “When have you learned to talk like this, Y/N?” You suck on his neck, biting the collar of his Spider-Man suit with newfound neediness. “I bet you learned from writing about me, yeah? I’m sure you’d imagined those words coming true… what, like I didn’t savor every paragraph you wrote? What was it again?” He brings his middle and ring finger to your face, tapping the digits against your watering mouth. “My long, slender fingers down your throat? Christ, you’re a whore, Y/N.”

You rut your hips against Peter’s, whispering his name in a breathy cry as you pull his sweatpants down his long legs. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, Peter.” He sits at the foot of your bed, pulling you between his toned thighs. You watch as they ripple under his suit, and you swear you’re drooling at the thought of what you’d do to them.

“You don’t get to call me Peter.” He looks up at you, gauging your facial expression as he runs his hands down the sides of your stomach. You’re too consumed in pleasure to reply, staring at him with nothing but bliss. He leaves a wet kiss, spit trailing over your belly button. A smirk breaks out on his face. “You can only call me Spider-Man, tonight.”

He grabs you by your hips, sitting you down forcefully on his left thigh. Peter moans embarrassingly once you don’t hesitate to grind your hips down on him.

“Fuck, Pe- Spidey…” You whine while Peter supports you by the nape of your neck and the flesh of your ass, reveling in how he could feel your pussy clenching through the material of his suit.

“God, I haven’t even touched your cunt and you’re almost cumming just by riding my thigh.” He tilts his head at you, dominance looming over his boyish features. His tongue peeks out through his smile, before he shifts to free your tits from your bra. The movement from his leg sets off a different friction beneath you, and you find yourself chasing a high that doesn’t come. You let out a noise of utter disbelief as Peter pulls you off of him, tsking at you.

“What? Spider-Man, please…” You innocently bat your lashes at him, making Peter wish he could fuck your face right then and there.

“You had your fill of riding Spider-Man’s thigh…” He takes off your pants, admiring your lack of panties beneath. He notices the wet patch in the cloth as you step out of them, and his cock twitches at the slick between your inner thighs.

He moves to stand behind you, guiding your quivering body down onto the sheets below you. He pins your wrists above your head, kissing down your arms as he leaves marks all over your breasts. You hum in pleasure, watching Peter carefully as he massaged the flesh. He’s so fucking excited, you see it in his rushed movements, the way he fights to buck his hips into you. And of course, you see it in the way his cock strains against the tightness of his Spider-Man suit. He’s aching, and you almost feel bad.

Peter notices your focused gaze, and buries his face in your neck. “Don’t worry about me, Y/N. Just wanna make you feel good tonight.” He nips at your earlobe. “You can suck Spider-Man’s dick next time.”

Next time.

So he wanted this again.

“Please… please, just… fuck me.” You admit with hot cheeks. You lightly push your heel against his crotch. “I wanna know how it feels to have you inside me.”

“Oh, I know you do, baby.” He croons, reaching behind him to unzip the suit. Your fingers toy with your clit as Peter peels it off of himself, revealing the lean of his stomach and the muscles in his abdomen. “Soon enough, you’ll get to tell your dear followers about how Spider-Man fucked you so hard that you saw stars.”

He pulls you by the legs, moving your body closer to his as he gently pushed your thighs apart. Peter’s cock is angrily hard, and you see the struggle in his eyes as your soft skin brushes against his hard-on. You bit your lip as he strokes himself into his hand, groaning at the sensation.

You writhe impatiently in the sheets, growing wetter at the sight of Spider-Man jerking off. Peter looks at you, searching for approval in your eyes. You nod quickly, parting yourself further so that he can kneel between your thighs.

You moan loudly in unison as Peter starts to penetrate your pussy. His thumb finds your bundle of nerves, praising your name as he leans over you. His hand finds your ass, and he folds you into yourself even more to get the right angle for the both of you. Your juices spill around his cock, and the room fills with a combination of skin slapping and needy moans.

“You tell everyone, Y/N…” Peter starts between breaths, “… on that fucking smut blog… that I love how your pussy feels, how it wraps around my cock…” He kisses you, studying the wrinkles of pleasure on your forehead as he paces his thrusts. They’re slower, but his hips snap deeper into you and he doesn’t hesitate to wait a few seconds before moving again. “You tell them that this pussy is like… fuck, it’s like heaven. God, you take me so well, don’t you?”

“Your cock fills me up so good, Peter.” He doesn’t correct the slip-up, marveling in how his name rolled off your tongue. “I’m… holy, fuck. I’m gonna cum soon.”

Peter pulls you onto his cock further, grunting as you wrap your legs around his backside. You limit his thrusts, and he too can start to feel the heightened sense of an orgasm approaching. His jaw hangs slightly ajar, eyes watching how you wrap around his dick so well and how he disappears so far into you.

“Jesus, Y/N.” He cries into the crook of your neck, before capturing your lips with his. “Everything feels so good. You feel amazing.” His voice is hushed, and your best friend finds himself gasping at the way your pussy flutters around him.

You cum, writhing and trembling over his cock. Peter rests his forehead against yours, muttering. “I fucking love you, Y/N.”

You laugh in disbelief, before his dick hits the right spot and you gasp out. “I fucking love you, too.”

Peter cums at the sound of your voice, the way the remark flowed past your lips sent him tumbling into you. His body nearly crushes you as he topples over, and you steady him by his shoulders before he pulls out to cum on the fullness of your stomach.

You lie there, in a heap of messy sheets and you rest your head on Peter’s bicep. He lets out a laugh, running his hands over his face.

“What?” You ask, rolling onto your side to wipe away the spit from the corner of his lip.

Peter turns to look at you. His eyes are tired, but bright with adrenaline. His fingers prod at your back, and you subconsciously lean into the curve of his body.

“I can’t believe you knew already.”

“And I can’t believe I told you not to snoop around my things. Yet, you did.” You poke at his sternum, and he softly pushes your hand away.

“But look where that got us.”

“Snoop.” You scoff, moving to get up. But Peter is quick to grab you, and you wiggle in his tight loving grasp.

“So, what’s with this whole smut-writer thing?”

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reidsnose · 3 years

Text

doodles

overview: reader doodles on her hands a lot and spencer has to give into the temptation of coloring it in

genre: flufffffff

a/n: sorry ive havent posted a fic in like a week, ive been in quite a slump but i had this idea well after midnight but i just had to write it so lmk what u guys think of this one :)

masterlist

doodling on your hands: a once nervous habit that had seeped into your everyday life and now is just a regular habit. nearly everyday you would come to work with clean hands and get home with a mini art gallery on your non dominant one.

Spencer admired this from the moment he noticed it. at first he thought you had a tattoo but when you came back the next day with it completely gone, he was a tad confused, only to catch you doodling on that very same hand a couple hours later on the jet. he thought maybe it was an occasional thing, a habit you'd quit once you got better situated into the team, but after nearly a year you still left work almost everyday with some cutesy sketches drawn on your hand.

Spencer found himself looking forward to your doodles, imagining in his head what you might draw each day, and thinking of all the colors you would add if you had the time. being the great profiler that he is, he noticed a pattern: you subconsciously correlated your doodles with your mood.

after especially hard cases or just bad days you always drew roses.

when you were very happy you drew all sorts of fruits.

anxiousness bore little swampy creatures and lily pads.

tired days filled your hands with random, intricate designs that you didn't even have to try hard to make.

and content was anything else.

he was so impressed and absolutely adored your little coping mechanism. watching you concentrate on making those teeny pieces of art simply for your own pleasure was definitely a sight to see. the way your eyebrows furrowed and tongue poked out a bit was absolutely positively adorable. and soon he had noticed that he was looking forward less to the doodles and more to watching you draw them. and after that he began looking forward to just you.

you were sat on the jet with your back to the corner of the last seat on the plane, creating a pattern of roses on the back of your hand. Spencer plopped down in the seat next to you, growing tired of watching from so far away.

"that bad, huh?" he asked, noticing the type of flower you were gracing your hand with.

"hm?" you looked up, confused.

"you only doodle roses on bad days." he explained, pointing to your hand.

"what? no i don't!" you defended, " i just think roses are neat."

to be fair, you were having a bad day but he could've profiled that without the doodle. he cant be right, can he? there was no way you had a mood system for your doodles! unless there was.

"repetitive strokes are therapeutic, so roses being rough days make sense. the spiral in the middle followed by however many layered petals you want is a perfectly repetitive while still interesting enough to doodle."

"if i didn't know any better i'd say you've been spying on me, Dr. Reid," you teased, enjoying the slight rouge that appeared on his cheeks.

"what! no! i'm- i'm a profiler i notice patterns! i just- spying sounds creepy." he stammered.

"ok. how about admiring." you jabbed, turning a little red yourself.

"fine. but you know coloring helps too." he flipped back to the old topic of conversation.

"unfortunately i only have the standard blue, black and red ink."

"roses are red." he chuckled.

"interesting point," you bent down and reached into your bag, pulling out a red pen and handing it to him, "knock yourself out."

"what?" he looked at you slightly bewildered.

"coloring is therapeutic, you said it yourself. and you and i both know that you need something to relax you after a case like that. we all do." you explained, trying to be as nonchalant as you could knowing his skin would touch yours.

he grabbed the pen and clicked it open, coloring smoothly and slowly inside the lines you had already made in black, careful not to go over them and smudge the ink. you and him both tried your best to ignore the warmth shooting through your bodies from every place your hands touched. his fingertips lightly grazing your knuckles as he worked.you worked your way up your arm, giving you both space to work and by the time you landed, you had a half sleeve garden of surprisingly well colored (and somehow shaded) red roses.

you went home that night and bought a pack of colorful (washable) pens, hoping this little rose garden with him wasn't a one time thing. and even if it was, you would want to add your own pop of color to your doodles.

thankfully it wasn't.

you and Spencer found yourselves drawing and coloring on your hand a lot. he would catch you doing it and pop in over your shoulder just to add a touch of color where he thought it fit. and you began to feel sad washing off what the two of you had created that day, feeling nostalgic for time that has hardly passed.

and sometimes on the jet you would get tired of your own skin, so you would draw little doodles on his hand, often times leaving a little heart at the base of his thumb. these little hearts he avoided washing off for as long as he possibly could because they felt like a part of you was always with him. he started doing the same thing to your hand, a sort of signature the two of you shared.

most days, the doodles on your hands were pretty much fully colored in.

but now Spencer began to worry. what if you get ink poisoning because of his coloring? sure, the risk was statistically low, improbable even; but never zero. so one night after work he went out and bought a little sketchbook and on the front he scrawled,

"y/n's super duper special sketchbook"

upon receiving it, after giving him a hug he never wanted to let go of, you took a sharpie and started editing the title he had given it. so it now read:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook"

the two of you used up a whole page that day, front and back filled with all types of fruits. Spencer smiled to himself, knowing this had made you very happy. you took a second to take a step back and admire him doing the very thing he admired you for. and you understood why; he just looked so precious and you suddenly realized you craved the feeling of his hand touching yours. so you leaned over and drew a little black heart at the base of his thumb. he looked up at you, smiling widely before returning a red heart to the base of your thumb.

and you guys tore through that book, using a page a day and filling it cover to cover in no time. your own personal handmade coloring book. it turned out to be both of your most prized possessions, a pang of sadness filling your chests as you finished the last page.

you felt bad taking it home with you that night, wondering if maybe Spencer wanted to keep it. maybe you should keep it at work so you can both have it. thats the fair thing to do. you looked down, smiling sadly at the little red heart on your hand.

he did want to keep it. but he had a better idea in mind. he looked down, smiling excitedly at the little black heart on his hand.

the next day when you arrived to work all your worries were solved. on your desk laid a new sketch book entitled:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook: volume ii"

you laughed as you read a small lilac post it note that said, "i want to keep this one please" signed with a little red heart in the corner.

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

#criminal minds #spencer reid #reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #luke alvez #tara lewis #matt simmons #bau #bau x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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tteokggukk · 3 years

Text

summer heat → jjk

–pairing: twin!jungkook x reader

–genre: fluff, mature (? but no smut), drabble, a minor attempt at humor, best friend’s twin brother type of thing

–words: 2.9k

–warnings: explicit language, sexual tension, tiny bit of humiliation, a hint of jungkook and reader having some sort of “history” if u squint hard enough

–summary: in an attempt to calm you down and prevent your mood from swinging due to the blazing heat, your best friend decides to go out and buy you some ice cream. you’re shocked, however, when he quickly returns and looks different, making you see him in an entirely new light and leaving you trying to resist the urge to give in to your raging hormones and just jump on him.

–a/n: i was thinking of this scenario in the shower but didn’t have the brain power to turn it into a full length story so i might just add this to a pile of drabbles that i may or may not develop heh + ive been in my jungkook feels too lately sigh + also this is unedited

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum @mochisjoon @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. Sweat was beginning to trickle down your temples and your shirt was getting stuck to your skin, causing an irking feeling of discomfort. Looking around, you quickly grabbed an empty long folder from your best friend’s messy desk and began fanning yourself to cool down. The two of you were just there, sitting in his room in a not-so-comfortable silence.

You were currently plopped down onto a chair with your legs resting on the desk in front of you, too lazy to come up with ideas to kill your boredom.

It was a tradition for your family to travel every summer and visit a new country you hadn’t been to, but this year you had to pass the plane tickets and sight-seeing due to your best friend, Junghan, asking begging you to help him out with a month-long film project. You didn’t have the heart to decline, so you told your parents you’d stay behind and help him out which resulted in you having to stay over at Junghan’s place for the rest of the summer.

You had to admit though, a small part of you felt disinclined to stay because the project sounded like it would’ve been a tedious workload, but working with your best friend was so much more fun than you’d imagined and even the project itself turned out to be enjoyable. So far, your summer break has been spent filming and hanging out with Junghan—though hanging out usually meant staying in his room and watching romcoms all day while crying over fictional characters, ranting about how you two would never meet such perfect men in real life. It was great.

Until the air conditioner broke down.

You glanced over at Junghan, who seemed to be just as spiritless as you were while he sat in front of a fan, eyes looking empty and distant.

“I told you the air conditioner needed to be fixed,” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling, completely missing the harsh glare he sent you.

“I said I was gonna get it fixed,” He replies and turns back to the fan, his voice quieting down a little, “But the number for repair wouldn’t answer.”

“Right,” You muttered absent-mindedly, eyes staring at the ceiling while your mind was too busy trying to come up with suggestions to beat the heat, “We could go to the pool?”

“Closed,” Junghan grunts, “The mall?”

“As if we’d both drive in this state,” You rolled your eyes as you tried to get your shirt to stop sticking to your skin. Junghan glances over at you when he hears you grumbling, one of the many cues that you were beginning to feel peevish. Deciding that it was pointless to keep tugging on your shirt, you opt to take it off instead.

“You don’t mind do you?” You asked before completely removing your shirt, only leaving you in your bralette. Though you knew he never did because of the countless times he’s helped you change and pick out different outfits, you always asked out of politeness. Additionally, his zero interest in women made you feel much safer and comfortable enough to undress around him.

“I really don’t care,” He says and stands up. You hear him rumbling for a moment while you were neatly folding your shirt, and seconds later you recognize the jingling sound of keys.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“The nearby grocery. You’re about to get grumpy and I am not going to listen to a rambling bitch for the rest of the day,” He says, rubbing his temples as he makes his way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna leave me here?” You asked, too exhausted to even glance at him. He probably wasn’t, you only asked for the dramatic effect.

“No, dumbass. I’m just gonna go and buy ice cream. See you in a bit.”

And with that Junghan leaves and closes the door shut. Only a few minutes later after the sound of the engine had gone did you decide to exert a little effort and move over to his previous spot to sit in front of the fan, the air immediately cooling your skin. You sighed in relief and grabbed a few tissues to wipe your temples dry before grabbing your phone and texting Junghan to buy some lemonade, followed by a second text telling him you’d pay him back once he returned.

You were surprised to hear, not even ten minutes later, that the car was already back and pulling up in the driveway. It couldn’t have been Junghan’s parents as they were out working, and it was only you and Junghan around—not like you two had many friends who would come and visit. Instead of rationalizing with yourself on how Junghan came back home in supersonic speed, you decide to drop it and wait for him to come up back to his room.

Someone knocks on the door, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. Since when did Junghan knock?

“Come... in?” You answer, though it came out more as a question. Your head turns at the sound of the door opening, and your eyes widen at seeing Junghan standing by the doorframe.

Looking oddly different.

“Dude,” You stood up from your place and stared him up and down, “Is that what you were really wearing when you went out?”

His eyebrows raise in shock and you catch his eyes taking a quick glimpse from your chest before quickly looking back at the perplexed look on your face, a small smirk forming on lips. You decide to ignore it.

“What a warm ‘welcome home’,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t answer me,” you replied, still oblivious to the difference in his tone.

He was wearing an all-black ensemble—a black cap, a black leather jacket, black pants that outlined his toned thighs (how have you never noticed?), and some chunky black boots—a huge contrast to his normally colorful and baggy clothing. You were genuinely curious because you hadn’t noticed what he looked like before he left the house as you were too tired and lazy to even look up and say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah. This is what I was wearing?” He narrows one of his eyes, looking confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know… since when did you wear all black?”

“Since way back then? I don’t know,” He replies, and you now noticed how his voice was unusually low. Junghan steps inside and averts his eyes from you, looking around in his room before scrimmaging through drawers as if in search for something.

“What are you looking for?” You asked, folding your arms and following him around.

“A charger,” He replies, and a chill runs down your spine at the sound of his voice. You thought maybe you’d detect how he was just trying to change his manner of speaking, but it was effortlessly low; like he wasn’t faking it or anything. It was weird because Junghan normally sounded a little more high pitched.

“What charger?”

“A laptop charger, mine broke,” He continues searching and not once does he meet your eyes.

“Oh okay, let me help you then,” You begin to look around and help him search, “Though I don’t know what it looks like, I’ll let you know if I see a charger.”

He looks up at you and smiles, but you don’t catch him watching you as you were already busy searching, “Thanks.”

The two of you continue searching in silence, though occasionally you’d look up and glance at Junghan. What exactly was he doing? Was this for his film? Is he supposed to be in character? This new look and manner of talking that he somehow adopted after a quick trip to the grocery store did things to you. Every time he grunted in annoyance after a failed search, something in your stomach would twist and you found yourself suddenly feeling drawn, or maybe even more than drawn, to your best friend. Your gay best friend.

You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts.

Only a few minutes later did you find something that looked like a charger hiding underneath a pile of unfolded clothes before presenting it to Junghan, “Is it this?”

“Yes! Exactly that,” He jumps up from crouching over one of the drawers at the bedside and walks over to you, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t know why you took such a long time searching for something in your room, though,” You rolled your eyes.

“My room?” He smiles, voice a little deeper but with a hint of amusement.

God, you could just jump on him right now.

“Yeah?” You knit your brows, “And stop doing that!”

“Stop doing what?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he was looking up at you. He leans back a bit a folds his arms, a smile still tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Maybe it was the summer heat doing things to your head and making you think about all these things that you never thought you’d ever want to do with your gay best friend, but he seemed so in character it was actually beginning to bother you. What store did he go to exactly? And where the hell is the ice cream?

“That! What’s up with your voice? And your outfit? You look so different, it’s weird,” You folded your arms as if to mirror him.

“Weird, huh?” He asks and looks at his clothing before looking back at you.

“Not in a bad way. It looks good, it’s just not you,” You squirmed slightly before shaking your head to snap out of it, “I don’t know what store you went to that made you look like this—and congrats I guess, if you’re trying to switch up your fashion, but you completely missed the ice cream, so good luck trying to handle this rambling bitch.”

He laughs at the words “rambling bitch” and oh god that is not what his laughter sounded like before. When did the sound of his laugh sound so deep and sultry? You subconsciously sucked on and bit your lip at the sound of his laughter, trying your best not to visibly drool in front of him. He catches your subtle action and his brow raises at the sight.

“Despite all the things you said, you think this looks good?” A playful smile rests on his face and your heart beats erratically at his expression.

“Y-yeah, I don’t know,” You mumbled. He shifts on the edge of the bed to move closer to you.

“And because there’s no ice cream, you’re going to turn into some rambling…” He reaches his hand out, the back of his fingers feeling the skin on your exposed waist before resting his hand on your back to pull you in closer.

“…person?” he continues, brows raised and eyes staring intently at yours, not using the vulgar word you had just used to describe yourself (or the word he had just called you before he left to go to the store).

“I...um, we’ll see,” you replied, and he only chuckles deeply. Your voice had transformed into a murmuring mess and it annoyed you, but you couldn’t really do anything about it, right now he reminded you so much of—

“I think you look good too, you know. Maybe I did miss you a lot more than I thought I did,” he whispers, pulling you in even more so you were now standing between his thighs.

Missed you? After an eight minute trip to the grocery store?

You didn’t question it. Your mind was blanking out, malfunctioning, even. Here was your best friend, your gay best friend (as you had to keep reminding yourself), placing his hands on your bare skin in a way that you knew wasn’t going to turn out to be so innocent. Right now you were extremely attracted and possibly even turned on by whatever the fuck he was doing, all you could do to save yourself was blame it on the heat. Was this absolutely weird? Hell yes. Did you want to stop him? Fuck no.

Were you now completely devoid of all reason and logic?

Definitely.

Softly, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into him so you were now sitting on his lap with your hand resting on his chest. One of his hands was still attached to your waist, the other was resting itself on the bed, gripping on a blanket.

Chills run down your spine for the second time now as his mouth moves closer to your ear, “Lucky for you I know the perfect way to handle rambling bitches.”

Your breath hitches for a moment and Junghan moves back to face you, his lips grazing your cheeks a little before you meet each other’s gaze. The summer heat was definitely nothing compared to this, but you didn’t mind. Your faces were only mere centimeters apart now and you could’ve sworn he was beginning to lean in by the look in his eyes, which were now fixated on your lips.

Seriously, you could just grab him by the collar right now and speed things up. He’s the one who pulled you in first, anyway, you just wanted to get things going. Though you haven’t exactly a clue as to where this would end, you wished he would hurry up a little to find out.

But for some strange reason, your senses were enveloped with the distinct smell of a signature fragrance that you knew did not belong to Junghan and it snapped you out of your thoughts. The scent was strong enough to flash some memories back in your mind, making you frown. Did he use this perfume on purpose? Or was your mind just playing tricks on you? In a flash, you could suddenly think straight and you couldn’t help it, the moral side of your brain had turned far stronger than your currently raging hormones (thank goodness). Something was definitely off.

“But, Junghan… aren’t you… gay?” You asked, your voice trailing off a little.

His eyes widen and he pulls back from you. He stares at you for a few seconds before it hits him, and he starts erupting in laughter. You narrowed your eyes at him and got off his lap, moving over to the side and sitting beside him instead.

“Junghan?” He stresses on the name. You’re staring at him blankly now, like you knew he was just messing with you. His laughter eventually dies down and he places a hand on your thigh, though it seemed much more innocent now, “I’m so sorry, ____, you’ve got the wrong person.”

With one hand, he quickly grabs the blanket off the bed. The back of his other free hand endearingly caresses your jaw, and you notice how he lingers for a while as he moves a bit lower down to your neck—before wrapping the fabric around you and covering your whole torso with it. Your face immediately turns pink as you clutched onto the blanket to further cover yourself, feeling slightly humiliated, though you were still confused.

“Wrong person? What do you mean?”

“I was wondering why you had no shirt on, I thought that was just a regular thing for you now. But it’s probably cause you’re more comfortable around my brother, huh?”

“Your brother…?”

“Has it really been that long?” He chuckles, and instantly your mind began connecting the pieces together. Could it actually be him? You haven’t seen him in years, and no one even bothered telling you he was coming back today. No way, surely this was Junghan playing a joke on you.

“I’m not Junghan. I’m his twin brother, Jungkook. Remember?”

You hastily stood up in defense, still clutching the blanket close to your chest, “Shut the fuck up, Junghan. No one said anything about Jungkook coming back today!”

Junghan Jungkook only laughs and stands up, the melodious sound filling the room, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the wide open bedroom door.

“What a shame, but it was a surprise. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home today,” He folds his arms, “And if I am Junghan, then who is that?” He points at the doorframe and true enough, Junghan was standing there holding grocery bags in his arms wearing his usual oversized colorful jacket and khaki colored pants.

You and Junghan both looked at each other with mouths dropped down to the floor before you looked back at Jungkook, who had the same smirk tugged on his lips, clearly amused at the whole situation.

Jungkook bends forward and leans in to your face, his voice in a lower tone but still audible enough for his brother to hear, “Probably shouldn’t take your top off so leisurely around the house anymore, huh?” He grins and winks at you, causing you wince and force an awkward smile, internally cursing yourself at everything that just happened.

“Anyways, I should probably rest up in my room. See you around,” Jungkook flashes you a smile before placing a chaste kiss on your (now dry, because your body had frozen up) forehead before walking away from you, taking the charger and dangling it in his other hand. He taps his confused looking brother on the shoulder before turning his head back to take one last look at you before walking out, leaving you and Junghan staring at each other in shock.

Junghan walks in slowly and sets the bags of grocery on the floor, shutting the door behind him.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asks you, eyes wide in anticipation.

Your mind replays everything that had happened between you two. Was Jungkook really just about to kiss you minutes before? Heart racing, you clutch on your chest from underneath the blanket he had covered you with. No way was Jungkook back. No way is he back and looking even more attractive than he did the last time you saw him. Not when you had just gotten over your small crush on him a couple of years ago.

The heat returns to your body, but it mainly pools on your cheeks. You look back at your best friend, but no words of explanation come up.

“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”

404 notes · View notes

sorryimanon · 3 years

Text

Pairings: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Tags: 18+, dirty talk, explicit scenes, mutual masturbation, penetration, bakugou being a switch, reader is a dom, lots of back and forth between characters, slow burn

A/N: this was supposed to be divided into two parts but surprise, surprise! i got lazy :) i had so much writing this. this might be my favorite fic ive written so far! this is a loooong one. enjoy!

P.S this is the unedited ver. I will posting the final on my AO3 account (sorryimanon)

Katsuki disliked her. No, he absolutely loathed her. Ever since she stepped foot into the classroom, it was destined for there to be a hostile barrier between the two of them. Granted, all she did was sweetly greet him like the rest of her fellow classmates, but Katsuki completely saw through her fading facade and ignored the kind gesture with a threatening showcase of his quirk.

"Being nice won't get you anywhere, baka," he snarled, glaring intensely at her all the while everyone watched the whole scene unfold.

He treated her like a foolish peasant after that initial encounter, disregarding her in any way shape or form as disgust shone through his eyes.

Y/N persevered the oncoming school years despite the blonde breathing down her neck consistently everyday. Katsuki's aggressive nature towards her subsided once graduation commenced, alluding to the blossoming maturity each student should have endured before branching off into hero work.

Not long after the celebratory succession, y/n bounced to several agencies that offered the same beneficial agreements for her. None caught her attention. Until one day she received a recommendation from Endeavor himself to work full time at his agency. Of course she accepted it and immediately wrote her sloppy signature down on the contract. Unbeknownst to her excitement, a separate copy of the contract was sent to another uprising hero around her age group.

So when she strutted in that morning of orientation, she never expected to see the very infamous Katsuki Bakugou slouched on one of the many chairs in the meeting room. Her throat tightened as she took a seat next to him, his height still freakishly tall even when they were just sitting. Staring straight forward to prevent from any means of eye contact with him, he lowered his head at her eye level and crooked a half smile.

"I'm gonna make you regret for even considering joining here, extra." A fleck of his spit hit the side of her face. Learning from her past encounters with Katsuki, y/n held her tongue in hopes for him to feel satisfied enough to leave her alone.

Thankfully their office hours were inconsistent to where they didn't intervene with each other, neither of them awkwardly meeting in the lobby or an elevator. However, sometimes y/n and Bakugou would desire the same craving for a caffeinated beverage and find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder by the coffee machine.

Bakugou likes his coffee black, she mentally jotted down as she intently watched his usual routine of preparing the beverage.

Like the asshole he is, Bakugou would purposely tip the mug and let a few trickles of the hot liquid burn her hand. He's done this every single time before he leaves y/n alone in the break room. Deep down, he relishes in the strained expression on her face when he inflicts the pain upon her. Thoughts danced across his head. Some involving him blasting y/n into the stratosphere to her kissing the tips of his boots for mercy. Either way, her being so submissive and, dare he say, a pussy to stand her ground sufficed him enough for the time being. But sometimes it pissed him off.

The constant harassment by the angry blonde went unnoticed by their other colleagues, including Endeavor, leaving y/n to prepare every morning to face the wrath of Katsuki Bakugou. His verbal abuse never wavered, occasionally whispering under his breath "weakling" or "stupid girl" whenever the pair were in the same room together. One time he sent her on a wild goose chase to find a missing case file that miraculously disappeared from her desk while she was copying something in the other room. Hours later, she soon discovers the said file tucked behind Katsuki's arm, snatching it from his grip and not once reprimanding him for wasting her time. Y/N eventually got used to it. Adapting to the annual insults of her work ethics and anything he could muster up from his sleeve. Both finally accepted their twisted dynamic, and became accustomed to the work lifestyle.

Months later, the dynamic soon changed when Endeavor announced an emergency meeting with everyone in the building. Apparently a new wave of villains have been reigning terror over the city, causing major damages and fatalities in a matter of weeks. Rumors started to circulate that the new generation of heroes don't have the capabilities to apprehend this group of evil doers. In the meeting, Endeavor made it clear for everyone to be partnered up before he dismisses them to patrol for the night, suggesting that pairing up with someone who is complimentary to your quirk is efficient for when dealing with these kinds of villains.

That's why y/n didn't voice her complaint when she inevitably got matched with Bakugou. His quirk alone was powerful already. With both of their quirks combined, there's no telling how the mission will go, but she surprisingly feels safe knowing he'll be sticking by her side throughout the rest of the night. It'll be a quick mission, then they'll return back to their previous mundane duties in the office. Back to Katsuki's mental and verbal torment.

"Could you move any slower?" Katsuki barked as both he and y/n were taking a quick stroll through the public park, scoping out for any signs of danger.

She was a step behind him, careful not to bump his shoulder or invade his space. She mumbled out a quick apology and fastened her pace, catching up to the man in gear. Tonight he wore his alternative hero costume, the design made specifically for when the temperature reaches an undesirable degree. The collar touched below the tip of his chin, his chiseled chest covered with the thick black material, and his arms protected from the cold with the addition of sleeves.

"Fucking weakling..." she heard him mumble once they circled the perimeter again.

Bakugou insisted for them to scout out as many places as possible in hopes for an encounter. He desperately needs any excuse for some action, to use his quirk out of anger. Previously, they patrolled the empty plaza of Tatoone shopping center. Other heroes were there as well, but still no signs of any villains lurking in the dark. For the third time, they met up at the center of the park after making another round, both already tired of the tedious task.

"Just our fucking luck. Still no signs of those stupid villains. I guess we should patrol the outskirts of-."

A bright luminescent beam struck the middle of Bakugou's chest cavity, ricocheting him backwards to slam against the trunk of a large tree, knocking him unconscious instantly. Startled, y/n's eyes frantically searched for the perpetrator, only to meet a pair of glowing green orbs staring right back. She shifted her stance in preparation for their next attack, blocking Bakugou's lifeless body from the villains view. Another beam shot from the darkness, only this time y/n counter balanced the blow by rolling to side, the blast missing her by a couple of feet. Y/N quickly raised to her feet and ran head first towards the dark figure. Without preamble, the figure shot multiple beams at the hero, each one emitting from the void of their chest.

Y/N dodged the bright suffocating strips of light, her feet shuffling and heart racing due to the adrenaline rush. However, she miscalculated her next move which allowed the figure to strike her left shoulder when she was distracted for a split second. Pain shot throughout her shoulder blade. Eyes drawn to a close, her hand shot up to cradle the injury. The intense sensation started to spread from the upper half of her body to below. Everything suddenly became numb, including her sensors. She couldn't feel the tips of her digits nor move any part of her face. The muscles in her legs soon stopped contracting, resulting in her knees giving out. She felt the hard, coarse ground beneath her as the darkness began to swallow up her line of vision. The last thing she saw was a scuffed up Bakugou laying face flat on the drenched grass.

- Y/N stirred awake, lifting one of her half lidded eyes expecting to see the villain looming over her tired body. But all she saw was the popcorn ceiling sheltering her, an overhead fan turned on and the curtains tightly shut. She slowly inclined her body upright and peeled the covers from her clammy figure. Still in the process of waking up, she made her way to the attached bathroom by the bed and located the sink. She splashed the cold water on her face, letting the droplets drench the clothes she was currently wearing. Turning off the facet, she craned her head to view the damage on her shoulder in the mirror. But how come she couldn't recognize herself?

Tuffs of blonde spiked out from her head. Her eyes weren't the same color either. Red crimson irises replaced the ones she had before. The injury from last night on her shoulder wasn't there no more, but she took sight at how broad they became. And she wasn't wearing her typical pajama top and bottoms. This morning she was clad in a black tank top and a pair of soft sweat pants.

No, this can't be true. This has to be some sick nightmare. Jolting backwards on her heel, she let out a terrible shriek. After screaming for a good minute, she calmed down and rested her hands on the bathroom counter, transfixed on the reflection in front of her.

"I-I somehow transformed into Bakugou!" The deep timbre voice of bakugou replaced her own. She tugged on the unkept hair and knitted her eyes shut. "This is only a dream. I'm dreaming right? I can't possibly be in Bakugou's body."

A loud ringing noise alerted y/n to open her eyes again. It was coming from her bedroom. Correction, his bedroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror one more time before retrieving the phone that was stuffed in a green duffel bag. Her eyes widened. She recognized her phone number on the screen. Knowing the circumstances, she pressed answered and awaited for the receiver on the other end to speak.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!"

"So, we somehow switched bodies because of being struck by that villains quirk the other night. How long did they say this will last then?" Y/N questioned Bakugou the following morning once they agreed to meet up somewhere in private. Right now they were sitting across from each other on a stone bench by the lake, the morning sun peaking through the tall skyscrapers behind them.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders, technically hers, and said, "Endeavor informed me it'll probably linger for a good week. He also wanted us to not be on duty till we recuperate from this, saying that the side effects will drain our bodies." He couldn't muster up the courage to stare at her, because all he would see is the reflection of himself. "Unfortunately the villain fled the scene before the others arrived to retrieve us. They're still out there causing havoc."

"This is freaking weird."

"Fucking."

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. Across from her, Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration.

"If you're gonna be me for a whole week then you might as well not sugar coat my vocabulary-dumbass."

Right, she now has to devote her time and effort into mirroring Bakugou's explosive personality. But that also means he too has to put on a show in order to persuade everyone he was her.

"Oh, okay..." she started but tensed up when realizing Bakugou was gazing expectantly at her. "D-Dumbass?"

Katsuki groaned as he rolled his eyes at her failed attempt of portraying him.

"This is going to be a long ass week."

- Bakugou grunted in disgust as he scavenged through y/n's closet for something to wear. Every piece of clothing so far hasn't met his criteria of approval to put on his body. There was an unnecessary amount of yoga pants and the most ugliest oversized graphic tees he's ever laid his eyes upon stored in her drawer. Growing up in a household of highly praised designers, the influence shifted his taste in fashion over the years. So, he made the rational decision to make a quick trip to the mall and purchase a few outfits for himself. Considering he's going to be in this body for a whole week, maybe even more, he might as well present himself looking ten times better than she ever has.

He tittered around the mall window shopping, entering store after store leaving with a handful of clothes in plastic and paper bags. So far he bought some outfits that edged a little on the fancy side, but paid no mind to his bank account. Bakugou guesstimated y/n's size during the venture, not wanting to pry or see what's underneath these restricting fabrics. He was about to leave when a frilly-pink themed store caught his attention.

It's a lingerie store, Bakugou thought as he neared closer to the entrance.

Posters inside the displays showcased attractive half naked women clad in nothing but the delicate material. Not to mention they were all posing seductively. An involuntary image of y/n flashed across his eyes, her imitating the same lustrous pose as well as wearing the sheer lingerie like the women behind the glass. Steams of heat practically blowed out from his ears, along with the embarrassing shade of pink panting his cheeks. He clamped a hand on his mouth, eyes widen in disbelief.

The fuck did I just imagine? There's no way in hell that just happened!

He must've been loitering there for awhile because a young girl, possibly his age, was standing in the threshold of the store wearing a pastel pink apron, giving him a welcoming smile.

She spoke, "Looking to shop for something, ma'am?"

Remembering back to y/n's distasteful clothing, he noted that she also lacked having any 'pretty' undergarments. It wasn't that he intentionally raided through her underwear, he just so happen to have stumbled upon the almost empty drawer by accident. In retrospect, he's doing her a favor. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes actually. Can you show me your most expensive set?" - "To your left! That dudes been camping by that spot since the match. He'll snipe you in the open!" Kirishima informed y/n as they both sat criss cross on the cushioned couch.

They've been playing the same game for hours. Y/N prayed for at least one water break or grab something quick to eat since they haven't moved an inch from their spots. Kirishima promised after this match he'll order some takeout for the both of them, but he said the same thing 8 matches ago. All she could do for now was pretend to be immersed in the game, getting a couple of impressive kills here and there, subsequently ranking her to a bronze level. Her digits were beginning to cramp up due to the repetitive moments of smashing down on the labeled buttons on the wireless controller. The screen across from them suddenly went dark and flashed the scoreboard from the recent match. Another successful victory.

"BOOYAAA!!!!" Kirishima clapped his hands and did a celebratory dance. "Ah, good game Bakugou."

Y/N flinched from hearing the blondes name.

"Kirishima, it's Y/N," she reluctantly reminded him.

Kirishima's whole demeanor went south. He chucked out a dry laugh and nervously started rubbing the back of his neck.

"R-Right sorry. Couldn't help myself. I mean, I am looking at Bakugou. Same face, voice, hair, and scary eyes."

After being battered by the villains quirk, Kirishima and Sun Eater were the ones to retrieve them before law enforcement shortly arrived once the perpetrator fled the scene. They were all under one strict oath to not mention this to the public, or else everyone’s image will tarnished and skew the potential of our future rankings.

"I know. I'm still trying to process this whole thing. I've been avoiding all the mirrors in the apartment since I came back." Y/N stood up from the couch and sauntered over to her designated bedroom for the week. She reached for the door handle but stiffened when a pair of hardened hands rested on her broad shoulders.

"Aye, don't worry so much. I bet you Bakugou is thinking the same thing. This week will be over before you know it," he absentmindedly began massaging the area between your shoulder blades and neck.

Does he always treat Bakugou like this despite that nasty little Pomeranian being a complete asshole to everyone?

"Kirishima?"

"Yeah?"

"What is Bakugou like around you?"

The red head hummed to himself at the random question, thinking of a perfect answer to her curiosity.

"The same how he was in high school except more tamer I guess. But I enjoy his presence none the less."

Then why does he seem to unleash his untamed feelings towards me specifically?

Y/N sighed, obviously not satisfied with that answer.

"Out of everybody, he seems to despise me more and more like it's a game," she said without realizing.

"You know how he is Y/N. He's very abrasive and blunt when it comes to other people's emotions, but deep down I know he only acts like that because he wants to present a strong image in front of everyone," he started. "He's scared of others looking down on him, I know that for sure. But I always looked up to Bakugou from the day I personally got to know him. So, I guess he just stayed by my side because of my admiration for him."

Bakugou is always putting up a front then.

"Interesting...well I'm gonna go to bed now. Thanks for keeping me company," y/n said once again reaching for the knob and opening the door, ignoring the red heads pleas for her not go to sleep on an empty stomach. -

The next day Bakugou found himself inside y/n's bathroom, feet firmly planted on the tiled floor not daring to move an inch. Even though he wasn't in his own body that didn't stop him from paying a visit to the gym this morning. He went extra hard on every machine, not caring about the wandering eyes men gave him while he dead lifted weights. Drenched in nothing but his own glistening sweat, Bakugou entered y/n's small apartment as he dragged his tired feet to the bedroom he was now familiarized with.

Something foul wafted into his nostrils, almost making him teary eyed to the stench. He tried to recall the last time he took a shower. Vaguely he remembers washing his body the morning before he got attack by the powerful quirk. It's been several days since then. This was one thing he didn't want to endure during his experience of switching bodies. He's been neglecting his own hygiene to avoid seeing y/n's exposed body parts. Changing out from her clothes with closed eyes was difficult enough, but taking a fucking shower?! Such a shitty predicament. But he can't smell like this for the remainder of being stuck in this body. He'll die of suffocation.

Ah fuck, that must mean she has to take a shower as well. Or worse, she already has and saw everything.

His eye twitched, lips trembling in fear at what he's about to witness.

Fuck it, I can't go out smelling like shit!

With shaky fingers he began stripping, eyes trained on anything but y/n's figure, the faint sound of the water streaming white noise to him. Her gym clothes piled on the floor, Katsuki slipped into the shower, head titled slightly to view only the shower head. He messed around with the chrome handle, indecisive on what temperature he wanted. Settled onto cold to awaken his sluggish state, he positioned himself under the shower head, goosebumps prickling his skin due to the sudden drop of temperature. Water droplets streamed down and canaled to his lower regions, the sensation relaxing his anxiousness just a smidge. He surveyed the options y/n had laid out for hair care products and grabbed the nearest one. Rubbing the body wash into the palms of his hands, he caught himself, arm mid raised getting ready to wash each crevice of his body.

Shit shit shit shit

The hand in front of him began shaking.

She won't know. It's not like I'm touching her sexually, I'm just keeping her clean for fucks sake!

As gentle as he could, Bakugou washed away the soapy residue, fingers cautiously ghosting over anything perking out. A moment too soon, he accidentally skimmed over her chest a little too fast, the tips of his fingers touching something that was hard and protruding. His breathing hitched.

I just felt her fucking nipple!

But fuck, it strangely felt quite pleasant. Pleasurable even if he had to admit.

He continued on with his previous ministrations, cupping her boobs like a madman and swiping one thumb over the taunt surface to test the waters. A fierce, tingling sensation surged shivers down his spine. An unsolicited low moan spurred out from the blonde.

"Hah!"

What the hell?! Why am I still touching her tits? And why am I enjoying it?

Finishing up his routine quickly, Bakugou snatched a towel from the cabinet and rubbed away all the sinful thoughts desperately from his head, a constant fight between his morals and neediness. Nobody will never know what he committed in the confines of her own apartment. And it'll fucking stay like that till on his death bed.

I practically assaulted her. I'm so fucking disgusting

For the rest of the remaining day, Bakugou planned on meeting up with Kirishima to hangout. He wanted to coerce the red head into talking about anything other than y/n. His mind needs the relief. He needs this spell to be over with.

He can't stand trying to fit into women's jeans any longer - Kirishima woke up that morning to a chorus of shrieks. Girlish shrieks, might he add. He thought maybe the neighbors were selfishly doing not-so-holy-things at the peak of dawn. But him and Katsuki were resided on the highest level of the penthouse, them being the only residents on the empty floor. It clicked once he heard his name through the thin walls.

"Ah! Y/N I'm coming!" He leaped from his bed and reached y/n's, technically Bakugou's, room in a matter of seconds.

Y/N's body twitched to the sound of the door being slammed open, the impact rattling the very few wall decorations in the blondes space. Standing in the threshold was the friendly red head, huffing and puffing air out of his chest like he just got done running a marathon.

"K-Kiri! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up!" Her words afterwards became a jumbled mess, realizing the predicament she pushed herself into.

"Hey, hey, calm down! Tell me what's wrong. It sounded like you were in pain. Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" The red had to remind himself this was indeed another person inside Bakugou's body, because Bakugou would never apologize repeatedly for the sake of apologizing in his entire life.

Y/N was looking quite pallid now, sheepishly tugging on the black covers of the bed, trying to find the easiest way on how to lay this out to her new roommate.

"Well...I just...I woke up to - ah crap."

Instead of explaining her situation, she pulled back the blanket to show kiri the thing protruding between her uncommonly, muscular legs. Kirishima's eyes widen instantaneously, eating up the pitched tent inside her basketball shorts. Oddly enough, this wasn't his first rodeo upon seeing the blonde with a boner. They were dudes. And dudes living together were bound to witness each other's 'flesh swords', he'd like to put it.

"Oh, morning wood? That's pretty normal. Nothing to fret y/n!" He dismissed her with the wave of his hand. "Bakugou gets them all the time! In fact, I remember he'd get them after sparring sessions back in our U.A days-."

"Okayyyyy, Never mind that! I know I have a boner. Just exactly how do I get rid of it?!"

"You mean, you don't know? Haven't you been taught this in Sex Ed class?" Kiri was actually curious as to why she doesn't know nor remember. He surly does. Learning about the human body by the infamous sultry teacher, Midnight, engraved so much information into his tiny-teenage brain.

"That was considered an extra curricular class. I took a CPR class instead."

"Right well, from what she taught us and from my own personal experience, you gotta rub one out."

Y/N's whole face contorted into a confused mess of disgust.

"Rub a what now?" She asked, although she had a feeling what the euphemism meant.

Kiri's face blotched red, the tint flushing to his chest as well. The man was evidently embarrassed about having this conversation with someone who wasn't Bakugou.

"I essentially mean you gotta masturbate. Ya know, in order to calm down your boner," he paused seeing how distraught y/n became. "It won't hurt I promise you! Don't worry, it feels really good! Like, eating ice cream good! Ah no that's not a good analogy!"

"This is so fucking horrifying..." Y/N poked at the thing, rightfully known as his dick, and kept starring as if it might miraculously subside to its original size.

Kiri coughed, grabbing her attention away from Bakugou's dick.

"He has lotion stashed in his drawer," he started, but malfunctioned seconds later. He revealed something private to someone that bakugou condemned as a 'weakling'. "That is if you need it for lubricant. It's kind of tough to jerk off dry..." his sentence fell off midway.

Y/N mumbled out an "Ok", and retrieved said lotion from the lower bunk of his drawers. She felt a pair of eyes on her. Kiri was still standing awkwardly by the doorway, unsure wether or not if that's his cue to leave.

"Um, thanks Kiri. You can leave now," she plopped back onto Bakugou's king sized bed.

This man sleeps alone. He doesn't need a ginormous bed all to himself.

"R-Right! Well, enjoy jerking off- ah no I meant - I didn't word that correctly! Ah geez, see ya later!" He sprinted out the door like his life depended on it.

Locking the door behind her, y/n forced herself into the attached bathroom, the lotion burning the palms of her hand each second. Once she settled down on the lid of the toilet, she shimmied out from his loose basketball shorts, letting them pool at her ankles.

If there's one thing she learned that morning, it was that being a man had its weird benefits. - "Slow down Bakugou! Let me at least catch up before you black out!" Kirishima was on his third shot while Bakugou just downed his sixth one for the night.

The blonde growled under his breath and tugged the red head by his collar to his mouth.

"Fucking idiot, don't call me that. It's y/n when we're out in public," he loosens his grip and snatches kiri's shot and tips his head back to drain it all down his throat, the burning sensation long gone.

"Ugh, my brain can't keep up with this whole switching body shit. It's been so hard back at the apartment." He internally cringes from the recollection of y/n popping her first boner this morning.

"What do you mean? Has that dumbass been giving you a hard time? If she has, I'll give her a piece of my mind."

"Not at all! She's been a saint while living with me. Which by the way, how come you can't just live at the penthouse while y/n stays at her place?

While Kirishima was talking, Bakugou ordered another round of shots. The bartender shoved a whole bottle of Fireball towards the man, saving him in the future to not ask anymore. The young server gave Bakugou a sly wink and returned back to serving other customers down the line. Cheeks flushed red, Bakugou thinks the man behind the bar was being too nice for his liking. He poured two more shots while keeping an eye on the average looking employee. If kirishima kept babbling, he might as well funnel the entire bottle in one sitting.

"I'm just following endeavors orders. We're not supposed to gain attention from those stupid reporters that camp outside our penthouse," he takes another swing of the warm liquid. "I'd rather fucking be quirkless than mistaken for having any rumored relations with her."

"Can I ask a genuine question? How come you hate y/n so much?"

"I don't hate her, I dislike her. There's a difference."

"I don't know man. Sometimes I mistaken your dislike with love."

"EXCUSE ME? IM NOT IN LOVE OF THAT BITCH?!"

"C'mon dude, I'm sensing a lot of denial from you. Also, shouldn't you be acting like her right now? She's very soft spoken if I'm not mistaken,"

"I'm not in denial idiot. I hate how soft she speaks. I hate how sickeningly kind she is even though nobody deserves it. I hate how she wastes her talented quirk and doesn't see the potential. She's a lost cause Kiri. She won't last for much longer in this field if she keeps this up."

"Wow, for someone who dislikes her as such, you surly sound like you care about heeeerrrrrr," kirshima drawled out in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up and finish your shot, shitty hair."

When the blonde was driving back to her apartment later that night, he slammed his fists against the steering wheel when an afterthought came to him.

His whole reasoning as to why he went out in the first place, and he can't seem to restrict himself from talking about the girl he's trapped in.

Even in this goddamn body I can't seem to steer clear from y/n talk! - Izuku had to do a double take when he entered the small coffee shop. Something about seeing the pensive blonde sitting patiently in a booth by the corner really made him feel like he was sucked into another dimension. Today y/n was wearing a white v-neck with a wool green cardigan and tight black jeans.

Kacchan owns cardigans? He thought, clearly amused.

Upon hearing the ding coming from the door, Y/N raised her head from her phone and waved Izuku over to her table. The poor man seemed like he was going combust right there. It's been awhile since he's spoken to his old classmate.

The green haired hero slid into the booth across from her and immediately started speaking Deku language.

"H-Hey Kacchan! Boy it's been awhile hasn't it? I was a little stunned seeing your message this morning asking to hangout. I'm sorry that I couldn't meet up sooner. I had an early patrol shift from 9 to 5. You might know how that feels, right?! Oh gosh I'm sounding like an adult. Can you believe we're adults-."

"Midor- I mean Deku, I called you up to ask about if you have any leads on the villain with the body switching quirk?" She cut him off.

"Oh yeah, that villain has been spotted a few times since the last attack. Of course most of my team hasn't been able to reprimand them. A few close calls though. But I heard two people from your sector got hit by the quirk! Are they doing okay?"

I hate lying to those big freaking green eyes.

"That's not true. They got hurt, but no one was attacked by their quirk. I just need to know if you have any information on the quirk in particular and what to do in order to reverse it."

Underneath the table, Izuku fumbled inside his pockets in search for his mini notebook. He still obtained the habit of jotting down everything, literally everything, in hopes the information will provide any source of aide. Izuku became all jittery and excited at the thought of sharing anything with Kacchan!

The small, crinkled notebook was slid across the table, hitting the tips of y/n's knuckles.

"Page 124, the first indent I wrote. It's mainly about my own conspiracy on what the villains quirk is. That was before their first debut of course. But now since we know it's a type of body switching quirk, I tried to pin point on what exactly lifts the quirks effect on the victim," Izuku explained casually while y/n skimmed through the notes and passages. "I did a little detective work on my own and contacted the people who were attacked by the villain. From what I gathered, let's just say- it's a bit taboo ."

This piqued her interest.

"What do you mean by, taboo?"

The man began to wave his hands around fervently in attempt to steer the blonde away from prying more. But y/n swatted Izuku's hand and continued reading the sloppy inscriptions.

Her eyes popped out from her sockets.

"I have to what?!" A few civilians stared in their direction, obviously gravitated to the familiar gruff voice.

"Calm down Kacchan! Why are you so angry for?"

Y/N rubbed her temple all the while wanting to slowly die than endure anymore of this.

"Nothing. Just- Ugh...Is it alright if I borrow this?"

"Y-Yeah! Kacchan can borrow anything from me as long as he returns it!" There was that gleam again in his eyes.

"Thanks Izuku, I owe you one!" She squeezed the greenettes freckled hand before leaving the booth and the shop all together.

Still in the cafe, Izuku sat frozen as if someone walked in with gun. Internally though, he was screaming. -

Y/N: Please call me. It's urgent

It was a Friday night when Bakugou received the cryptic message from her. He was in the middle of watching his true crime show when the annoying ding from his phone went off. For once, he just wanted to relax his mind and go on auto pilot without stressing his already strained body. It's the whole principle of Friday's. To fuck off and ignore everyone. What's so fucking important for her to text him out of the blue then?

Another acute ding.

Bakugou peeked over his shoulder to see who disrupted him this time.

Y/N: Bakugou, we need to talk. This isn't something to ignore.

He rolled his eyes and retrained his focus on the tv screen.

Ding Ding Ding

"FOR FUCK SAKE!" He released an animalistic growl from the depths of his throat, scratching his voice box even more. His fingers typed away aggressively, not bothering to read her previous messages.

BK: Leave me the fuck alone. You're to only text me if it involves with the reverse of this stupid quirk 🖕🏼

Three dots appeared immediately after he sent that. Bakugou started losing his patience while waiting for her response. He hated wasting precious time, especially if there was a second party involved. Her message finally delivered. Bakugou's eyes grew larger in size as he read the text.

Y/N: that's why I'm texting you idiot 🙄 I met up with Midoriya today and he may have given me the solution to our problem.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he typed out his last text message to her.

BK: fine. come over then. we can talk about it when you get here.

This time he didn't wait for her to respond back and began cleaning her apartment. - Feeling nervous was an understatement. Y/N felt like she was driving herself to her own execution. Bakugou being the one to carry out the death sentence. She didn't doubt the blonde would be elated at the idea of her being put under a torture device.

Okay, maybe he wasn't too malice to actually do it, but he probably entertained the thought.

Thankfully Bakugou's penthouse wasn't far from her own apartment, saving her much needed gas in case he goes ballistic on her.

The door flew open when she arrived shortly after one knock, revealing a very sluggish looking Y/N shooting daggers at her. Well, at least her body wasn't dressed in bruises or burn marks. That's a win. Bakugou paired herself with a cute crop top and silky pajama shorts. He's got taste she'll give him that.

Her apartment remained exactly the same as she left it when they both were ordered to switch residency's. Only a few traces of Bakugou were found. Mainly in the kitchen, where all his fancy cooking equipment and utensils were laid out. Unlike him, she ate out almost every night due to the red head being incompetent in the kitchen. He almost burnt down the complex last night. He relied upon his friend to do most of the cooking in their household.

The blonde briskly brushed passed her to sit on the couch, slinging his feet on the coffee table to make himself comfortable. Too comfortable, she noted.

"Well, spill it. What did the damn nerd tell you that could help us with this shit?" He inquired without preamble.

Like a hero, she was here on a mission. A mission that needs to be completed as soon as possible, even if the mission itself was ludicrous. She reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve the mini book, and flipped soundlessly to the page Izuku marked for her.

"On here it says that the quirk can last up to a week, maybe even more, depending on the victim(s). The effected will experience dry eyes, nausea, insomnia, painful migraines, and uncontrollable shaking due to being inside another persons body. They must let the quirk take its course then," she read out loud, ignoring Bakugou's groans of annoyance. "But, for rare cases, there have been reports of one's libido being greatly impacted. The victim will be in constant, insurmountable pain unless they relief themselves, then the two bodies will return back to normal."

To her surprise, Bakugou didn't show an ounce of indignation after hearing this piece of information. He seemed almost indifferent.

And there's no denying the truth. Both of their hormones have been off the rails. Ever since the incident in the shower, Bakugou has caught himself numerous times touching Y/N's boobs. Coping a sly feel as he cooked, cleaned, and even while he scrolled through his social media. Sometimes her ass as well to see if it felt good in his hands. Y/N was no saint either. Sporting boners every hour for no particular reason. All the blood rushing to her lower region became unbearable when she didn't take care of it. Kirishima kept reassuring her that it's natural for a man to get them a lot. But how much was too much?

He threw his hands up in the air and scoffs. "That's it? I just gotta jack off and then we're free from this curse?"

This is the part she dreaded the most. An uncomfortable heat flash roused up her face, a deep shade of red inching across her cheeks and nose.

"No. That's not what it means. We basically have to...ya know...," she paused mid sentence, too bashful to finish, desperately wanting Bakugou to put two and two together.

She shrunk in her position as the blonde narrowed his eyes at her.

"We have to fuck each other?" He profoundly acclaimed.

"Don't put it like that! But yeah, technically, we have to...help relief each other in order to switch back."

"If you wanted to jump my bones so bad you could've just asked." He leans back against the couch, arm draped lazily over the shoulder of the furniture, along with a playful smirk tugging up on the corners of his mouth. Y/N's blood ran cold when she felt the tiniest twitch down below. Her borrowed reproductive organ is betraying her!

"Do you want to be in constant pain till this all wears off? Or do you want to get this over with and never talk to each other again?" Y/N shuffled more towards the abrasive man, a strong tidal wave of anger rising within her.

"It won't matter because you always wound up in my presence anyway. Like a fucking pest that won't leave me alone." Without realizing it, Bakugou got up from his spot on the couch and marched over to Y/N, who at the moment looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel.

Another thing he hated about switching bodies was the fact that everyone towered over him, despite him being on his tippy toes. The woman in front of him acclimated his height, giving her the upperhand if they were to battle it out right now. If anything he could kick her shins at best.

"Whatever...I'm leaving," was all she said before storming off to the front door, grabbing her things along with her as she grew farther from him.

Katsuki's legs were moving on their own. His hand reached out and grabbed Y/N's forearm, halting her movements altogether. She's clearly enraged, thrashing her body back and forth to loosen his grip on her. He eventually grew tired of her stubborness and secured his grip on both of her arms, trapping her between the door and his body, producing a loud 'thump!'. Although he was in her body, he still carried his strength. In a matter of seconds, both Y/N and Bakugou were chest to chest now, their centers tapping aganist each other. She averted her gaze to the floor, as if their shoes were more interesting than this whole shitshow of a dilema. Bakugou squeezed her shoudlers, a little too much for her liking, to gain her attention again.

"I didn't say no, did I?" he asked hotly, his warm breath hitting her collarbones. An ice cold shiver ran down her spine, causing her breathing to hitch. Bakugou noticed her sudden stiffness and began rubbing gentle circles into the tender flesh of her skin. "Hoho, someone's excited aren't they?"

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows and backed up further into the wooden door. But her question was soon to be answered as she followed Bakugou's hungry gaze to the prominent bludge taunting from her pants. Betrayed once again by her unstable horniness!

"Guess I'm not the only one," she accuses once spotting the definite wet stain around Bakugou's crotch. He smirked at that.

"Take care of it then," his voice oozed of seduction and want, rewarding him another twitch in your tight pants. The libido was taking full effect now, any animosity they had before was thrown out the window. Past arguments also long forgotten. Their main priority at the moment was to experience the sweet relief of coming undone.

Y/N darted her hand down to the spot Bakugou needed attention from, and cupped his crotch with her abnormally large hand. Bakugou lets out a shaky exhale as her fingers danced around the sensitive area. One of her fingers moved instinctively, feeling how drenched he was in his panties, and rubbed the underside to get a better feel of the sex.

"You're so wet Bakugou," Y/N mused softly. She leaned forward, searching into Bakugou's eyes for any signs of him wanting this to end. But the pool of his irises were blown out, no tint of your original color in them anymore. "Do you want more?"

He nodded quickly, his hair bobbing up and down. Y/N chuckled and removed her hand from its previous position to the hem of Bakugou's shorts, teasingly toying the waistband. She slipped smoothly into his shorts, tickling him in the process, and toyed with the corners of his panties before moving them aside so she could have access to the thing she's been craving to touch. Wetness lathered up her fingers with just one swipe, causing Bakugou to purse his lips and shut his eyes tightly.

"Is Bakugou embarrassed? Are you mad that I have the upper hand now? After all those years of verbally tormenting me, you can't handle my simple touch?" She whispered dangerously close into his ear. During this, she couldn't tell if he was pissed or turned on. Maybe a mixture of both, but she took pride in his strained expression.

"W-Watch your goddamn mouth. Or do I need to shut you up myself, eh?" By shutting her up, he meant mirroring her exact ministrations. The petite hand of Bakugou's latched onto the zipper of her jeans, and impressively dragged it down in one swipe without getting anything caught. He reached into the tight restraints of her boxer briefs and pulled out the hardened dick. He clicked his tongue. "Not to sound like a narcissist, but you gotta admit, my dick looks pretty."

"Just shut up and jerk me off you asshole. I'm starting to see stars," She wasn't lying to speed up the process. Her body felt like it was on fire, including her dick. If Bakugou keeps stalling for the sake of punishing her, then he's going to be seeing white for days on end.

Bakugou tentatively began pumping her, his grip not too tight nor loose on the flesh. Y/N sighed in relief as he swiped his thumb over the slit, covering his fingers in her precum. Seeing that he's giving into her needs, she returned the favor by inserting her index finger inside, not allowing him to adjust once she massaged the velvety walls.

Bakugou arched into Y/N's body, panting harshly against her chest. "H-Hah fuck, slow down. Shit!"

"Take it like a champ, Mr.Dynamight."

"F-Fuck you."

Oh no. Probably shouldn't have patronized him, because Bakugou sped up his languid motions to pure vigorous jerking of the hand. A wave of pleasure shot up through her body, jolting backwards due to the intense sensation. Of course he's a pro at this. What isn't he good at?

Bakugou rested his head onto the crevice of your shoulder since he could only reach so far, and ghosted his lips on the skin, carefully restricting himself to not engage in kissing the area. While doing so, he cupped the underside of your balls, rolling them around in his small hands. They looked so big when being manhandled in her grasp. Y/N stifled her moans as he kept messing with them, all the while stroking her simultaneously. She felt him smile. The cheeky fucker! Two could play it at this game.

Y/N used one of her thumbs that weren't preoccupied inside Bakugou to massage the only place she knew that could make him cum in seconds. Two fingers inside, one thumb attentively on the clitorous. It was enough to make Bakugou bite down on her shoulder, trying to prevent any moans from escaping his mouth.

"Moan for me Bakugou. I know you want to," she tried to persuade him with more strokes to the clit, occasionally pinching it with her unoccupied fingers. She can feel he was close. So was she. But she needed to coerce him into helping her to finish too. They need to be a team. "Say something Bakugou. Don't you want to cum? If you don't speak your mind I'm going to stop." She couldn't believe the words that were spewing from her mouth. Y/N has never dirty talked before. Nor has she gotten this far with anyone without freezing up. Definitely the libido effect.

Bakugou detached his teeth from her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. Pleading.

"Go faster. Please." The want and neediness in his voice said it all.

He indeed felt vulnerable and exposed right then and there when confessing his desire, but he couldn't care less. Her fingers inside him were heavenly. A mantra of ,"yesyesyesyesyesyes", left his throat as her ministrations didn't falter.

"Fuck! Keep going. Just like that- shit - just like that... yesssss." His moans were beautiful. Not because they sounded like hers, but the way how he vocalizes his pleasure made sense in the world. Every whimper or moan puts her closer to the edge.

"Are you- are you about to?" He asked quietly, as though he was afraid you might stop at any rate.

"Yes! So close, just keep stroking," it was difficult to form sentences after that, the build up tension in your stomach tightening like a ticking time bomb, making your pleads indecipherable.

But Bakugou didn't want to hear that. He wanted to her to say those three words of encouragement.

Make. Me. Cum

And then, as if his thoughts were broadcasted live, she snaked her hands into the locks of his hair and pulled him close to where the tips of their noses touched briskly.

In a small voice she whimpers out, "Make me cum, Katsuki."

Listening to her instructions, his grip tightened around the base of her shaft and began teasing the slit, never once averting his glare from her own. Y/N's legs turned into jello. It became harder and harder to stand any longer. She needed to release. She quickened her pace and brutally scissored his pussy, the erotic sounds of their wetness reverberating in the tiny apartment.

"Cum then baby. Cum for me only."

Baby

Next thing she knew a strip of white shot out from below, dirtying the hands of Bakugou's. Her body began to spasm. Katsuki didn't loosen his grip, the stimulation becoming unbearable at this point.

The coil within him loosened, the evidence of his climax coating her fingers, allowing his orgasum to reach its full potential.

The pair blacked out for a split second, but recuperated once the light hit their corneas again.

"Shit." "Fuck." "..." "..."

Silence. Then the realization hit.

"I'm staring at you and not me! It worked! Hallelujah!" Y/N exclaimed, feeling herself to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.

"Gross. You got cum all over my expensive shirt," he said, wiping away the white substance with his sleeve.

Both of them went into the kitchen to clean the after math. Bakugou would grunt occasionally in disgust, sponging away the grime. Y/N throughly washed her hands and towel dried them, thoughts stiffly empty and vexed. She broke the awkward tension.

"Well, I guess we should call Endeavor and inform him that we switched back."

He hummed in agreement.

"And we should probably exchange our things tomorrow or tonight, but preferably soon since we're going to be on duty again."

Another grunt.

"Don't worry about me mentioning this to anyone. We can just keep whatever happened minutes ago between us-

Bakugou cut her off entirely by smashing his lips against hers. Shell shocked by his action, Y/N kept her eyes wide open whilst Bakugou's were knitted shut. She laid her hands on his chest and shoved him away harshly, putting their distance at arms reach.

"Bakugou, what the hell? All of sudden you want to kiss me?" Y/N's face fell, contorting into a mixture of sadness and confusion. "You only kiss people you like. Not hate."

Bakugou moved towards Y/N slowly, a hint of a smile forming as he neared closer.

"And that's exactly why I did it, idiot," he proclaimed confidently, cupping the side of her face. The touch was so tender and gentle she forgot that it was Bakugou at first.

"You're toying with me, aren't you? The libido is probably still lingering. If you really liked me, then tell me the exact moment you did."

Without hesitation he said, "The first day of school. When you walked in."

Y/N slapped the hand from her face, her skin flushing red by his blunt confession.

"Stop lying. You were mean to me the first day of school. And every day after that. I don't think calling people a "weakling" or "stupid" constitutes as liking someone."

All he did was chuckle and continued scooting closer, eventually towering above her. She squirmed underneath him. She secretly missed having his height.

"You're absolutely stupid if you think I really meant any of that crap. I may have gone overboard on the whole berating thing, but that was just my way of pushing my feelings away, in hopes you'd improve better and not take shit from people like me."

"Ya know, it's kind of hard to detect that when you were practically spitting on my face."

He leaned down and pecked a chaste kiss on the crown of her forehead.

"You can call me all the names you want later. Kick my ass if ya want, but for now let me make it up to you," he whispers before planting his mouth to hers again, only this time she didn't protest.

Heat swirled within her as she watched Katsuki's eyes flutter close, enriched in the moment to open them, and gripped the base of her neck to apply more pressure into the kiss. The man guided her as he moved his plushed lips ontop of hers, consuming the pretty noises she made. And my, were they absoultey rich coming from her.

I want to hear more, the selfish thought banged repeatedly inside his lust filled mind.

Y/N nervosuly closed her eyes shut when Katsuki's wet tongue prodded the entrance of her tight, lipped mouth. Letting him take full control, Katsuki managed to enter the strong muscle into her wet mouth and explored the canvernous place with such eagerness, such tenacity. Like he's been dying to do this for as long as his skillful mind can remember. Y/N found herself moaning as Katsuki grabbed her waist and forcefully collieded their bodies together, her soft breasts pressed up against his hard chest. Her perky tits put him in a trance, remincseing back to the day when first touched them, the guiltiness eating him up from the inside-out. Katsuki slithered one of his hands to the taunt boob and gave it a firm squeeze, causing Y/N to squeak out in embarrasement. They still feel fucking amazing in his hands.

"You're so fucking cute," he drew back from her, already out of breath. Everything was hitting him like a tsunami. He can finally admit to himself that he's been wanting this since they became co-workers. Hell, since the fucking beginning. Younger Katsuki would deem him as a horny loser who lost at his own game, but he wasn't a damn kid anymore.

"K-Katsuki...bedroom?" her hands found their way back into his crisp locks, futher egging him to comply. The small action made him moan.

"Fuck yes," Katsuki growled out and in a haste hooked his arms underneath the back of Y/N's thighs, hoisting her in the air to lead them into the bedroom they're both familair with.

Journeying to her bedroom became a difficult task. If only she'd stop giving his neck, the most sensitve spot out of his entire body, kitten kisses then he'd be plowing her back by now. He grew weaker by the second as the shy, acute kisses trandsitioned into full on sucking and biting. Not that he was complaining.

Katsuki threw her down onto the bed, unable to contain his smile when she hiccuped a chorus of giggles. God, even her giggles are fucking contagious. Strong arms scooped her up momentarily, bringing her to the center of the bed. Grazing her aching spot was Katsuki's growing buldge. Y/N circled her arms around his tiny waist squeezing him closely as Katsuki rolled his hips downwards to meet hers. She seized Katsuki's bicep, whimpering, and rythmically pushed her groin towards his, the tin material of her shorts scraping the surface of his jeans deliciously. His head dragged down to her collarbones, panting softly, wetting the skin from the condesation of his breath.

"I want you so fucking bad, please," he managed to choke out in between the continous grinding.

Gaining a newfound confidence, Y/N mimiced the way how Bakugou unzipped her when they were still in opposite bodies and peeled back his briefs till his inflamed member popped out, smacking his lower belly. He cursed under his breath noticing the immense amount of pre-cum leaking from the head. As much as she wanted to lick it all up, there were other things to tend to. She shimmied out from her skimpy shorts and crop top, not wasting any time for lingering touches. But Y/N caught a menacing glare in his eyes. His attention was focused on something else. Looking down, she saw that she was sporting a sheer laced bra with matching panties. She definitely doesn't remember having these in her personal closet.

"You bought me lingerie?" Y/N tried to sound unfazed at the thought of Katsuki willingly purchasing these pretty undergarments for her. That must mean he's seen her boobs!

"Yeah? So what if I did. Your sense of fashion is nonexistent. I pitied you that much to where I bought you shit with my own money."

His face was stern, scarily resembling the times he'd be bashing someone's head on the concrete during a bloody battle. But his eyes told a different story. She couldn't quite pin point the time or place when she witnessed the same gleaming spark in those vermilion orbs, but she felt safe and wanted all in one.

So she began teasing the straps of her bra, head still in disbelief that the blonde underneath her bought it, and let the material slip off her shoulder seductively. Bakugou's breathing quickened as he watched y/n toy with the next strap. He stopped her midway.

"No," his fingers were ironically cold.

"No?" She questioned him, awkwardly frozen still on his lap. His evident boner pushing up against her sex, making her wet even more.

Numbly, Bakugou pulled up both of the straps to her bra and chuckled lightly to himself.

"I wanna fuck you with this on. It's been on my mind since I bought it," he admitted out loud.

Y/N held back a moan, his words carrying so much weight to them all the while directing it straight to her drenched pussy.

Without saying a word, y/n left acute kisses on Bakugou's neck, trailing it down further and further till she reached the leaking head of his member. He became antsy as she wrapped her petite hand around the base, fingers tracing the topography of his veins. Y/N saw the desperate look on his face and took all of him in her mouth, holding in the breath of oxygen she took before doing so. Bakugou hissed, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip nearly ripping the skin apart. This feels way better and more appropriate. He prefers her wet mouth over her fingers any day of the week.

Y/N sucked in her cheeks, allowing herself to take more of his member. The tip of his head eventually hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag and choke due to the sudden pressure.

"F-Fuck. Holy shit, keep going," Katsuki begged, tears swelling in his ducts already.

The saliva from her open mouth created a natural lubricant, making it easy for her to bob her head up and down. Bakugou's ears picked up the erotic wet squelching sounds coming from her as she kept up the brutal pace, the noise alone making him want to come undone. The sight of y/n slobbering on his dick is now engraved in his head. He let out a wanton moan when she played with his balls, recalling the memory of him performing the same ministration on himself with her beautiful hands.

He can feel the familiar sensation spreading down below, his throat constricting as the stimulation of her sucking and licking becoming too much. Before she could continue, Bakugou reached over and lifted her head by her hair.

"I can't hold it in any longer. I need to be inside you now," his voice was strained to point where it came out as a whisper.

Pushing her back gently, Bakugou latched his mouth onto hers as he spread her legs wide apart. Revealing a canal of her wetness dripping from her panties to the inner thighs. Bakugou licked his lips hungrily. Mentally slapping himself for not tasting her before she gave him head. He'll make sure to explore that endeavor later.

Lips still locked, Bakugou tugged the bottom half of her laced panties aside, strings of her glistening wetness shimmering, and positioned himself at her aching entrance. The tip of his cock teased her folds, coating it even more. He agonizingly went in slow circles, occasionally slapping her clit with it. Y/N's arms were above her head, clutching the linen sheets in anticipation. Katsuki smirked against her lips at her wrecked expression.

"Bakugou please...," y/n pleaded with her full chest. She wants to know how it feels to be wrapped around him. To be one with him. "Don't hold back. Just fuck me."

Bakugou's eyes grew darker after the demand, pure lust taking control over his body now. He sheathed into her quickly without taking his eyes off of her face. A quiet whimper left her throat when he fully bottomed out. He checked for any signs of y/n looking displeased or uncomfortable, but he got his answer when he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in as close as possible. Bakugou basks in at the sight of y/n sucking him completely, her legs fully bent back in an awkward position. He decides to pull his cock halfway out. y/n whimpers due to loss of friction but gets rewarded seconds later when Katsuki rams his cock inside again, pushing all his weight onto her.

"Oh, fuck, Katsuki!," she whines, instinctively clutching her walls around him.

"You're so tight for me huh baby? Can't help but to clamp around this dick," Katsuki sneered while pumping tentative thrusts into her.

His hands clasped both of her thighs now, pulling her towards him, urging her to move in a harmonious dance with him. Finding somewhat of a rhythm, y/n fucked Katsuki back by rolling her hips, a synapse of heat exchanging between them. Sweat starts dripping down from the crown of his forehead onto the peaks of her breasts. Lost in thought, he tipped his head forward and lapped up the remains of his salty musk, tongue expertly twirling around the taunt nipple. Y/N mewled, hands searching - reaching - for anything to ground herself, settling on interlocking her fingers with Katsuki's nitroglycerin drenched hands. She titled her head and took a whiff.

Caramel and soap

A popping sound went off in her ears. Katsuki released her swollen tit only to look up with hooded eyes, his infamous smirk on full display.

"Open your mouth," was all he said before raising one of his fingers that she was so embarrassingly fixated on moments ago. When she didn't obey Katsuki grabbed her by the jaw and shoved not one, not two, but three fingers in her mouth. Like with his cock, she couldn't handle the intensified pressure in the back of her throat, gagging instantaneously.

"Atta girl. Just take my fingers like a good bitch. Oh? You like it when I degrade you huh? Don't lie, you tightened instantly when I said that." Katsukis pace sped up rapidly, pumping into her cunt like a madman, fingers still lodge down her throat. Each thrust left her shuddering for more, his hips meeting hers to create a loud song, the noise drowning out her muffled screams.

It became hard to see now, a tunnel vision of just a crimson glow. Soon she feels herself becoming light. Katsuki grew impatient and flipped y/n on her stomach, a tiny oof rocked out from her, and inserted his member back into her stretched out cunt.

Y/N yelps as Katsuki's cock hits the sweet spot - fresh tears flooding down her flushed face, babbling nonsense into her pillow.

She caves, sobbing, "yes, yes, ohgod. you feel so good. you're so fucking good -ah katsuki!"

Looming over her trembling body, the blonde slows his harsh thrusts to a savagely slow grind. He lowly chuckles watching her writhe and wiggle her body in desperation.

"You think you can just come that easy? Beg for me to let you come!"

Smack!

A harsh sting rattled her lower back, causing her to bite down harshly on her lip to avoid showing any pain.

"Such an asshole..." y/n huffed out, oblivious to the way how Katsuki was preparing for her next punishment.

Smack! Smack!

"Not good. Ask nicely for me to fuck this pretty pussy into the mattress."

More whimpers into the tear stained pillow.

"P-Please Katsuki..." she begins, frustration growing exponentially with every word. "Fuck me. I need your cock. I always needed your cock Katsuki. Make me scream out your name when I come!"

She didn't even have time to process what she said before Katsuki enclosed his hand around her throat, forcefully dragging her writhing body to his chest, cranking her head in a 90 degree angle. Cock still warming up her insides.

"That's my girl," he said before kissing her lips again, devouring the sweet noises she made.

Her neighbors were in for a long night. - Both of their bodies the next morning faced more damage than any crusade of a patrol. Bruises painted the outskirts of y/n's body, trailing from her thighs to the divots of her breasts. Katsuki paid no mind to it, seeing how he can make a bloody lip a trailblazer look.

Even though no one wanted speak much about the issue at hand - last night was a pivotal moment for their relationship.

Because y/n wouldn't be making a fresh batch of coffee for the Katsuki Bakugou in her kitchen right now.

Because Bakugou wouldn't be lounging by her washing machine, waiting for the timer to go off so he can put her bed sheets in the dryer.

They found themselves sitting comfortably in silence - the soft whipping of car horns outside her cracked window - Katsuki blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. It all seemed unreal to her. In any other circumstance they'd be at each other's necks by now, screaming nuisances in the air. She considers this whole ordeal a ruse. But it isn't. Thank god it isn't. Because Katsuki never looked calmer or relaxed in his entire life till now. And she wasn't going to bat an eye away from this ground breaking phenomenon.

Intently watching him drink from across the table, she ponders if Katsuki liked her from the get go, and maybe just disguised his feelings with disgust towards her later on. The question will go unanswered, possibly until he confides and tells the story himself, but for now she was content not knowing the what if.

"How did you know I like black coffee?" Katsuki asks, quirking up an eyebrow at her.

Y/N takes a long drag from her mug, indulging in the sweet taste of the caramel creamer.

She smiles and says, "I don't know. Just took a wild guess."

#mha smut #mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki smut #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Enough (Madara x Reader), Part I

Word Count: 1, 350

Tags/Warnings: Uchiha!Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, Kinda Historically Accurate Wedding, Reader has a Father and a Mother, Warrior Society with Old Fashioned Ideals, “Arranged Marriage”, Angst, Reader gets picked up, Reader has the Sharingan

Part I Part II Part III Finale

@brokennerdalert

Notes: Is this cutting it a bit close to Mob Wife part IV? Maybe. I was thinking to myself, there’s no way a warrior society is sitting down in front of a shrine to have a long drawn out ceremony, so I did a bit of research and got creative.

There will be a part II coming within the week that will answer the second Madara request of @animepickle7.

You were considered married but you didn’t see him often. You weren’t even certain that he even thought of you romantically, but you supposed that his feelings (or yours for that matter) didn’t actually hold weight in the grand scheme of things. You left the settlement nightly and Madara always waited for you patiently at the border. He never seemed to have much to say, opting to quietly stand from his sitting position and accompany you on your strolls. You had long since given up on trying to talk to him (Madara had always been more of a physical being), but you didn’t consider him an inconvenience enough to turn him away.

But in the end, Madara’s relative wordlessness didn’t seem to matter at all. The clan did not view your tolerance the same way, collectively though individually deciding that the time you and Madara spent was enough time together to be considered an official, exclusive couple. You knew the custom well, but you supposed that you had never put that much thought into finding a partner. You didn’t think that Madara did either. After all, he had always been more interested in the affairs of the battlefield. You presumed that most of the men in your clan were, but even when you fought side-by-side Madara hardly spared you a glance. Even the ones who did not yet live with their spouses displayed a sort of pride, but Madara ignored you by day and certainly came close to it by night.

You didn’t realize that you had to make a choice until it was already made for you. You sat with your default partner with your parents across from you as you finished up your meal. Madara spoke only to your father while your mother made polite chit chat with the intention of roping you back into the conversation you had checked out of. Perhaps, you considered to yourself for the umteeth time of the night, you should have turned Madara down the night he insisted on walking with you. You were an Uchiha, someone who could handle themselves on a stroll that you had taken nightly since your childhood. You had no reason to accept company when you had never done so in the past. And now, you were celebrating a foreseeably fruitless marriage with an aloof husband whose death you could reasonably predict in the near future at the hands of the Senju.

Madara spoke your name and snapped you out of your thoughts. He frowned over at you.

“You have a sour look on your face.” You met his dark, stoic eyes. “It is unbecoming.”

Thoughts of him, of your future haunted you and made your pulse pound. It all felt so much heavier knowing that you had been stripped of your ability to choose. You felt foolish, having considered the custom for a slip second that first night but dismissing it away and placing your trust in the dark protection of the night.

Without a second thought, you stood with a silent huff and offered your parents a quick apology before excusing yourself. You could save the profuse pleadings for their forgiveness later. For now, you were overwhelmed and angry, deciding that you would be damned if you cried in front of them. In front of Madara. Stuffy, judgemental Madara. You just kept walking, blind and red at the prospect of your life being ruined by your forever tether. And then you just found yourself somewhere else, wondering if you would be subjected to coldness and judgement for the rest of your days.

You looked out over the forest blanketed by nightfall. With your regular sight, you could just barely make out the outline of the canopy and the mountains in the distance. Humidity hung in the air, causing a thin layer of sweat to coat your skin. It was quiet, save for the bugs chirping. Too good to be true.

“Leave me alone,” you groaned, turning to Madara who appeared a distance behind you. “For once, please just leave me alone.” Your fingers tangled in your hair. Madara’s arms coiled over his chest.

“It was rude of you to walk out like that.”

Your sandals shifted on the dirt ground below. You almost felt paralyzed, at a loss for what to even say to him when it felt like your words were being ignored completely. Your lips parted before snapping shut again. One of your canines snagged part of the soft skin, leaving a stinging, copper-tasting sensation behind. Another step back. You didn’t have a lot of choices in life. Between the constant fighting and migrating, life certainly wasn’t consistent. Factor in the looming prospect of death and you lacked a guarantee.

You didn’t notice yourself rambling or the electric sensation of tears gathering in your eyes until you burst out sobbing. Your head hung like a sorrowful veil over the palms that covered your face. Worry grew in your chest like creeping vines and coiled around your heart as you braced yourself for more of Madara’s harsh input. He would certainly have something to say about a weeping member of the Uchiha clan, but his scathing judgement never came.

Something nudged gently against your forehead. The presence of a hand lingered over you before settling on the back of your head and between your shoulder blades. Your fingers moved about an inch from your face to gripping the front of Madara’s robes tightly. You cried into the fabric. He didn’t seem tense as much as he seemed at a loss. Madara played with a lock of your hair, gaze wandering.

“If what I am providing you is not enough, then I will do more.” His voice sounded deeper as it rumbled against you. The remaining presence of his stoic tone made you shake harder. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to take comfort in the darkness that overtook your vision. “I was foolish to believe that my choice would be received with as much happiness as I expected.”

You let yourself be picked up. Madara cradled you against his chest as he began walking back towards the Uchiha settlement.

***

Your parents weren’t pleased, but knowing of your new status put them in a more agreeable mood. You sulked for the most part, opting to stay inside and enjoy the comfort of your living arrangements. Even as the sun set, heat found its way to you. The air smelled like summer and thankfulness for your light robes occupied your mind.

That was until you heard a noise from outside.

It wasn’t loud, but it sounded just out of the ordinary to someone who spent their days listening to the babble of the forest around them. Your eyes swirled into a crimson red and you unsheathed the kunai strapped to your thigh. The clan would have to relocate, that is, if you could make it out to warn them. You knew that you had to strike first.

But as you lept from your housing with killing intent, you stopped yourself short at a familiar face. The sharp of your kunai rested just a few inches from Madara’s neck. His large hand wrapped around your striking wrist. Madara’s expression remained unchanged, even as you huffed, pulling away to resheath your weapon.

“You could not have expected to best an intruder with that.” He gestured to your kunai and you frowned.

“Skill takes precedence over flashy weaponry.” Your sharingan remained activated as you stared into his dark eyes. You expected him to activate his own as a response to your open challenge. Perhaps you should have been more cautious at the prospect of provoking Madara, but his irises never circled into their own red color. Rather, he studied your face.

You did not like that at all. You turned on your heel to resume the nothing that you dedicated yourself to when Madara’s gruff voice called out behind you.

“You haven’t been outdoors.” You haven’t been taking your walks.

You stopped, tapping your finger against the entryway.

“I suppose I haven’t.” And I won’t anytime soon.

You disappeared inside.

Notes: I did the least amount of research ever and I read a few articles about ancient Japanese weddings before the more traditional ones came around. A few sources talked about how men would visit a woman “in the night” (take that how you will) and if they did that enough, people would just consider them to be married. I’m probably boiling it down real hard and there was variance between regions. The woman would only live with her “husband” either when they had a child or when her parents passed away. It mostly talked about straight relationships so I kinda took the jest and rolled with it here.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#madara x reader #Madara Uchiha x reader #madara #madara uchiha #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto scenarios #naruto scenario #x you #x reader #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto imagines #naruto imagine

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alrightberries · 3 years

Text

glimpse of me and you

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff. ❈ word count: 2.6k

❈ summary: It’s your first day out of the Underground District and on the surface. Levi helps you get settled.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity.

a/n: i would like to confess that i was in A Mood.

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

i. morning

The first thing you noticed was that it was bright. Too bright.

Not the kind of brightness you saw in the warm glowing lamps that littered the Underground District, but the kind that made your eyes squint and feel sore- like they were going to pop out of your head any time soon. Your hand slips out of Levi’s to block out the light hurting your irises.

He stops walking up the staircase and turns to look at you.

“Here.” He murmurs. He places down the boxes he was holding and takes off his green Survey Corps cape, draping it around your shoulders and clasping it at the front before drawing the hood over your face. The sunlight is no longer as harsh.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod.

“Much. Thank you, Levi.”

He hums in acknowledgement, one hand picking up the boxes with your luggage and the other one slipping through yours to slowly lead you up the staircase once more. He could tell from how you squeezed his hand and kept taking deep breaths behind him that you were nervous. He couldn’t blame you, either. He remembers being the same with Isabel and Farlan two years ago.

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since he was captured and taken to the surface. Since last saw your face and heard his name slip from your lips.

It took the better part of two years to barely scrape up enough money to buy you citizenship, but as he leads you through the stairway with your warm hand in his, he knows he wouldn’t hesitate do it all again.

For you.

“It’s going to be brighter once we reach the surface.” He says. The last step of the stairway was nearing. “I know you won’t, but close your eyes if you have to. You might get disoriented if you don’t.”

True to his words, you did end up getting disoriented because you refused to close your eyes. But really now, how could you? 26 years you’ve waited for this day to come. And you would be damned if you didn’t take everything in the second you set foot above ground for the first time.

As you reached the surface, Levi notices you flinching, turning your head away from the light and gritting your teeth once you set foot on the cobble stoned streets above. Despite your clear discomfort at the brightness, you made no move to close your eyes. In fact, you even braved to let them roam around.

“Stubborn dumbass.” He scolds quietly.

He leads you a little ways off from the exit of the stairway to put your stuff in the small wagon in front of you. The small wagon was drawn by a gorgeous black horse, and you realize that this was probably the beloved mare Levi spoke of in his letters.

“Is this Estreya?” You ask. Levi hums in agreement and takes the last box you were holding to place it with the rest of your luggage with a low grunt.

When he looks back at you he notices your eyes are still squinted, but your teeth were no longer gritted. The hood was still drawn over your face and one of your hands was still shielding your eyes from the burning light. You weren’t even going to lie, you were half terrified that your eyes were going to melt from how hot the sun was.

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

You scoff. “Yeah, because horses are really common in the Underground.”

He doesn’t reply to your quip. Though the way his eyebrows relax and his lips twitch up in the slightest doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Ride the wagon. You’ll fall on your ass if you try to go on horseback.”

“If you say so, Captain Levi.”

It was now his turn to grit his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t have told you about his promotion.

“Tch, just get on. Or I’ll leave you stranded in Wall Sina.”

ii. noon

The wagon ride to Wall Rose was something you could only describe as ethereal.

You hadn’t the faintest idea the sky was so big and blue, and how fluffy the clouds seemed to be. The sky seemed to stretch for miles and miles, and knowing that there wasn’t a ceiling above you almost made you want to cry.

Wall Sina was beautiful, as well. Especially the market. The market you passed by almost made you want to stop the wagon and drag Levi from stall to stall to see what they had. They housed probably the most vibrant colored fruits and vegetables you’ve ever seen, and the smell of freshly baked bread made your mouth water. Not to mention, the air didn’t smell like moisture or piss or shit.

“Don’t get any ideas.” He says, noticing your longing stare at the colorful tents. “You look like you’re about to jump off the wagon.”

“Will you leave me stranded if I do?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Undoubtedly, though, your favorite view from the ride would be what Levi called “the suburbs.”

The tallness of the trees. The freshness of the air. The sounds of ruffling leaves. Birds and critters running around the ground and flying through the sky. The beautiful greens and blues were the biggest contrast to the drab grays and blacks you typically saw in the Underground District, and now you understood why Levi was so hellbent on taking you to the surface and never looking back.

“We’re almost there.” You hear him call out from in front of you.

Your eyes stop wandering around what Levi called a “valley”. You look past his figure sitting on the horse, spotting a castle made of bricks. It looked small from this distance but the closer you got, the more you realized that distance could be deceiving.

“Is that the Survey Corps’ base?”

“No, it’s a fucking circus.” He replies sarcastically.

“What’s a circus?”

“It’s— nevermind.”

iii. afternoon

When you got to Levi’s private quarters, you didn’t hesitate to ask for a spare towel so you could take a shower.

You didn’t even bother kissing him or unpacking your things or… making up for lost time, if you will. Instead you made a beeline for the private bathroom connected to his bedroom and spent a good hour inside, talking to him through the door about how you’ve been looking forward to taking a proper shower all week. Levi had to drag you out and stop you from wasting more of the Survey Corps’ water reservoir.

“So, let me get this straight.” You mutter.

You were sitting on his bed and he was sitting on a chair across from you. Your hair was still damp and your upper half was clad in a spare Survey Corps button down, while your bottom half was clad in nothing but your underwear.

Levi had complained that your clothes from the Underground were too dirty and would have to be washed. You called him rude, only relenting when he offered to do your laundry. But he wasn’t about to complain about the extra chores when it gave him this view.

“You’ve been captain for an entire year and only bothered to tell last week?”

“Yes.” Came his stoic reply.

“But why?!”

“I’m not hearing the end of this any time soon, am I?”

Before you could respond, Levi hears loud banging from his office door (which you noticed was connected to his bedroom) and he sighs as he wordlessly covers your bare legs with a blanket. Confused eyes met his, and all he could do was shrug as he heard the office door breakdown. The loud banging was now being directed at the bedroom door, the only thing separating you from what you assumed was some rabid raccoon.

“Levi motherfucking Ackerman!” You hear someone shriek from the other side of the wood. Okay, so maybe it’s not a rabid raccoon. “Open this door right this instant!”

You hear the lock clicking and the knob turning rapidly. Despite knowing you should probably be scared, you can’t help but smile at Levi’s clear irritation. It wasn’t the genuine kind of irritation. It was the kind he showed to Isabel— the one where he pretends to be annoyed but secretly enjoys their company.

“It’s not locked, four-eyes.” He replies.

Ah, so this must be the Hange he’s been complaining about.

“Then why can’t I open it?!”

“It’s push, not pull.”

Immediately, the banging stops, and silence takes over the room. But the silence is short lived when Hange suddenly kicks the door open and you jump from surprise.

“Don’t think that I wouldn’t find out about you bringing a civilian to the base, Ackerman!” Hange points an accusing finger at Levi’s bored face.

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. Considering I asked you to sign the authorization letter.”

The soldier ignores Levi’s quip and quickly makes their way over to you, sitting down next to your side and extending a hand.

“The name’s Hange Zoe, Section Commander of the Survey Corps. And you are?”

You warily accept their offer of a handshake. Your eyes briefly flit over to where Levi was still sat, relaxing a bit when he nods to your silent question of whether or not it was safe.

“Y/N.” You give them a polite smile.

“When Moblit told me Levi brought a civilian to the base, I was ecstatic!”

What the fuck is a Moblit? You wonder.

Your hands were still joined, and you weren’t sure if prolonged and drawn out handshakes were a custom of the surface. Not wanting to be rude, you continued to shake Hange’s hand, nodding along as they continued on.

“I didn’t peg shorty as the type to play boyfriend.”

“Neither did I.” You chuckled. “But he’s been more than wonderful. He’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Levi bites back the smile teasing his lips.

“Stop shaking Hange's hand. You’ll catch rabies or some shit.”

iv. evening

It was nearing six o’clock when Levi finally convinced Hange to go away, but only with the promise that he would introduce you to his squadron later at dinner. Normally he’d detest the idea of sharing intimate details about his personal life, but as he listens to you ask question after question about the surface, he deems the small sacrifice was more than worth this small moment with you.

“You said the surface was going to be hot. Why is it so cold now?” You ask, settling into the bed. Levi lifts up the blanket and begins to lie down beside you.

“Because it’s almost night.” He says simply. “It’s hot in the day and cold in the night.”

“Is it always like that?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It depends on the season.”

He feels you shift closer to him, lifting his arm up and placing it around your waist as your head rests on his chest. He takes a deep breath, and the smell that was so uniquely you fills up his lungs. He almost hums in delight because it’s been two years; he hasn’t had this in two years, and no force on earth could ever take it away from him again.

“Season?” You murmur, sleepy eyes staring into his.

Levi immediately knows that you’re a bedtime story away from snoozing, and he figures the fatigue is to be expected. You were, after all, being introduced to too many things at once. And judging by the bags under your eyes, you were probably too happy about going to the surface to get any sleep last night.

“Yeah. There are four seasons above ground: winter, summer, spring, and fall. Right now, it’s spring.”

“Will you tell me about the seasons?”

He feels you shift, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“You missed.”

You smile. A hand gently reaches out to grasp his chin, pulling his face towards yours to give him a gentle kiss. When you try to pull away, Levi pulls you back in.

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.” He muses as your lips broke apart. The arm wrapped around your waist holds onto you a little tighter as you relax to his side once again, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His thumb rubs small, gentle circles into your arm.

“The flowers bloom in spring. Everything blooms.” He explains. “In fall, the temperature gets colder so the leaves start changing colors.”

“What colors do they become?”

“Mostly brown or orange.”

You nod.

“In winter, that’s when things start getting really cold. Colder than the Underground. Snow starts falling and everything gets covered in it. It’s annoying.”

“But don’t you use winter as an excuse to... y’know, convince your bosses to spend more money on tea leaves?”

It was now his turn to nod, and you merely let out a chuckle. He feels your breath fanning against his neck and he doesn’t stop his head from lulling into yours. He really did miss having you in his arms.

“Figures.” You yawn. “You’re obsessed with that stuff.”

He feels a sleepy kiss press against his collarbones, and he places a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs. “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“But you haven’t told me about summer yet.”

A small smile makes its way to his lips, and Levi was thankful that you couldn’t see. He’d never hear the end of your teasing if you did.

“If I tell you, will you stop annoying me?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay.”

v. midnight

The first thing Levi notices is that it was dark. Too dark.

A brief glimpse out his open window confirms his suspicions that it was, indeed, night time. He probably slept through dinner.

The second thing Levi notices is that his entire right side was numb and there was a heavy weight on his body, some of it crushing his arm. He hears your sleepy voice mumble his name in your sleep, and he relaxes once he remembers the events of today.

He kept his promise.

You had an entire future ahead of you, and Levi’s heart warms at the thought. Sure, you were a civilian who couldn’t stay in the Survey Corps base forever; and he should probably start helping you job hunt so you could both start saving up for a new house. He’d fight you tooth and nail if you tried to join the military though, and something tells him you probably wouldn’t listen.

But he kept his promise. And that’s all that mattered for now.

He hears you shift in his arms before taking a sharp inhale, and your eyes sleepily open. They glance around the room, trying to remember where you were, before landing on him. A small smile teases your lips, adoration blossoming in your heart at the man in front of you.

“What time is it?” You softly ask. One of your hands reaches out to rub your eyes before he feels a warm palm come to rest on his stomach.

“Late.” He replies. His free hand lands on your soft cheek, and he tilts your head down so he can kiss your forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

You only nod, too tired to argue. You break free from his grasp and Levi is momentarily disappointed when you turn the other way. But then your hand reaches out behind you to sling his arm over your waist, and he shifts closer when he realizes you wanted to spoon.

“So I don’t kill your arm.” You explain quietly.

Levi presses his chest to your back and his leg wraps around yours. His nose is buried into the crown of your hair and he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale and close his eyes. Your hand intertwines with the one slung around your waist, and he feels you lift up your conjoined hands to place a kiss to his knuckles.

“I love you, Levi.”

This time, Levi doesn’t bother to hide his smile. It wasn’t the first time you’ve said I love you, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. But it would never cease to amaze Levi how just three short words could turn his stoic and uninterested demeanor into one of smiles that reached his eyes.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.”

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

#i figured since i wrote a rlly angsty smut #i should write a rlly soft fluff #and this happened #also i was in A Mood #writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Prisoner's Game Pt. 3 (Rowaelin)

~Aelin~

There was something decidedly pleasant about sneaking out of prison.

It was the thrill, she supposed.

She'd always been a bit of an adrenaline junky, and there was nothing that matched up to the excitement of breaking out of a maximum security prison with no one being the wiser.

Aelin ran through the tunnel, her steps sure and soundless, a smile blooming on her face. What she was doing shouldn't give her such joy, but along with being a thrill seeker, she'd always been just a little bit vindictive.

Or maybe a lot.

The map of the tunnels was still crystal clear after all this time, and she had it memorized down to the number of steps it took to get to the right turn.

It was a three hour run. Two underground, then one through the city out into the suburbs.

While the first two hours were definitely not fun, it was the last hour that was tricky.

Avoiding cameras, not drawing any unwanted attention, dressing so no one could see her face without looking too much like the criminal she was.

It was also more exhausting.

It was an hour of sprinting across rooftops, sprinting through town, then sprinting some more.

It was a little funny to her that the journey to where she needed to go was more difficult than actually breaking into the building.

She had a set of scrubs stored in a nearby lockbox, along with a wig and a few prosthetics to make her look more like Ansel, one of the nurses working the night shift.

The security guard, Shelly, was prone to reading romance novels during her shift and never questioned why she occasionally thought she saw two of the same person wandering around.

It was no different tonight.

Once she had everything in place, Aelin strode confidently through the halls, grabbing charts and nodding like she knew what the hell she was looking at.

No one stopped her, no one questioned her.

When she got to the room and chart she wanted, she slipped inside soundlessly and crept up to the bed.

Despite the ever-present urge to hurry things along, she stuck to her plan and kept the dose the same.

The person on the bed never woke up, never noticed her slip an extra drug into the IV bag hanging on the wall.

Silent, efficient, traceless.

Just like she'd been taught.

Leaving was even easier than entering.

She waited until real-Ansel had been out of the guard's sight for a while, then walked out the back door of the facility like she hadn't just committed a felony.

One of the few crimes she actually deserved to be in prison for, ironically.

Then she ran back, hiding in the traffic camera's blind spots and ditching the wig along the way.

It was a little stupid and drawn out to do it this way, not to mention unbelievably cruel, but Aelin had always had a flair for the dramatic.

Plus, like she said: exciting.

~Rowan~

Doubt is a strange emotion.

It starts small, so small you hardly even realize it's there.

And then, over time, it grows and grows like a fungus, eventually becoming something that you think about all the time. Something that kills you.

Rowan didn't believe in doubt.

His problem had never been with not believing in himself, it'd always been with the opposite affliction: over-conviction.

He believed things so fully, so deeply, it was hard to see it any other way.

It was what made him such a good lawyer. As the top public prosecutor in the city, he had a reputation for being impossible to win against.

He convinced himself of the defendant's guilt so completely, the jury had almost no option but to believe him.

He hadn't always been that way, he didn't think. Argumentative and stubborn, sure. His mother could attest to that. But never so unflinchingly self-assured. So alright with deceiving himself if need be.

If he had to guess, he'd say it'd started two months after the day of Aelin's trial.

He hadn't been lying to her four days ago; every word had been the truth. He'd worked his ass off all those years ago, trying to find something that would help him either clear her name or at least fucking sleep at night.

He'd given himself a timeline, deciding that if he couldn't find a single lead in two months, there probably wasn't one. Two months, and then he'd let it go.

He didn't regret stopping his hunt--he'd seen what an obsession could do to someone.

And when that day had come, he'd thought he was ready. He'd exhausted himself working both her case and the ones he was assigned, burning the candle at both ends and sleeping in the office more nights than his own bed.

There'd been nothing to be found. The evidence, the testimonies, the medical examiner's reports... they'd all pointed to Aelin.

So eventually he'd forced himself to stop looking.

But the sight of her swinging between the two court police officers, fighting for just one more second with him with a desperation he'd never seen from her... he hadn't known how he could just forget something like that.

The image followed him, haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers. Lined with tears and disbelief and so much hurt he felt like invisible hands were wrapped around his neck.

So he'd hardened himself against it.

He'd repeated the pieces of evidence against her, told himself she was guilty until the words were easy to say, forced himself to visualize the crime scenes of her victims whenever he thought of her.

Piece by piece, he'd swapped out the months of positive memories they had with stone cold facts.

And it had worked.

After a month, he could sleep again. After a year, he hardly thought of her and when he did, it was with disgust.

Yet now, over eight years later, he found himself with just the slightest amount of doubt again.

It was the same nagging, incessant feeling he hadn't been able to shake eight years ago. Back for round two, apparently.

At first, he'd played it off as nerves from their conversation. She'd worked him up so much he'd admitted how much he'd once loved her and said things he shouldn't have.

His body was reacting to the sadness in her eyes, the surprise that had bloomed when he'd told her he'd fought for her. It was emotion, nothing based in logic, that made him want to start looking again.

At least that's what he told himself.

But four days later, he found himself on the couch--he really did need to give up and just buy a new bed--staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep and not being able to.

Because... well because what if she was telling the truth?

Why else would she have told him that story?

What had he missed during all those late nights spent hunched over her folder?

The questions grew and grew, until that once-little shard of doubt started to slowly drive him mad.

The uncertainty, no matter how small it had begun, had grown to be almost irritatingly large and unavoidable.

He couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. The breadcrumbs that apparently only he could find.

What did that mean?

And why couldn't he just let it go?

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his blanket off and storming to the closet.

Like a love-struck idiot, he'd kept a box full of the stuff she'd left at his apartment during their relationship. The stuff that wasn't evidence, at least.

If it was something only he could find like she'd said, it was probably something only he had access to.

He dropped the box on his kitchen table and opened the lid.

Then cursed when the first thing he saw was a pair of red lace underwear. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about and remembering.

Especially when he'd barely been able to resist the temptation to kiss her in that interrogation room.

Something about the way she'd looked at him after he'd told her he'd fought for her all those years ago had rattled the grip he had on his control hard.

She'd seemed so... sad. So hopeless. It had brought out the urge to comfort her in whatever way he could.

Hearing about her childhood and how she'd been raised by Arobynn Hamel hadn't made it any better. Truthfully, it'd broken something inside of him.

She'd always been so positive around him--a ray of light he'd felt was put on this earth just for him.

And all the while, she'd been forced to live with and work for one of the most notorious crime syndicate members of all time.

He'd always known she hadn't had a good childhood, but there was a difference between foster care hell and an actual house of horrors. Rowan couldn't even imagine the things she'd seen. Been forced to see, to do.

She made it out, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath.

But had she?

If what she'd told him was true, she'd killed those people because she'd been forced to.

It hadn't been her choice.

But there was something else about her, something he couldn't stop thinking about.

The secret she'd eluded to, the one that apparently only he had the key to solving.

A secret she'd promised would explain everything.

He tossed the underwear on the table, vowing to ignore them.

Then threw them in the trash a minute later when that became impossible.

You're such an asshole, he told himself, shaking his head. It's been eight years.

Even if that part of their relationship was most definitely memorable.

"Jesus," he laughed, running a hand over his face. Why was he even thinking about that?

Maybe it was the look in her eyes four days ago, or maybe it was simply that Aelin had been an important part of his life. He'd never forget the connection they'd had. Maybe it would always be a part of him.

But that was ridiculous, because he'd been connected to plenty of women since. Plenty of gorgeous brunettes and redheads.

For some reason, he hadn't been able to date a blonde, but that didn't mean anything.

He was over her.

Obviously.

Forcing his thoughts away from Aelin, he grabbed the next thing in the box.

Her address book. Maybe she'd left a note in there?

He flipped it open, scrolling through blank page after blank page. Her cousin's address and phone number were there--both of which he confirmed with police records--but other than that, it was blank.

The next thing he found made the ache in his chest expand to a soul-sucking hole.

It was a travel brochure for Aruba.

The edges were frayed from how much she'd flipped through it, and notes in her handwriting were scribbled throughout the pages.

He remembered this, all right.

He'd woken up one morning, a morning that seemed like a lifetime ago, to find her laying on top of him, leafing through the travel pamphlet with a huge grin on her face.

"We're going to Aruba," she'd whispered in lieu of a greeting, leaning down to press her lips to his.

"Why?" he'd asked back between kisses.

"Because it's the perfect place to hide from your real life," had been her laughed response.

She'd planned a trip for them at Christmas. Their very first trip together.

Every time they saw each other, she'd shown him a new page or told him about a new activity she wanted to do.

In general, she was a happy, excited person, but he'd never seen her so thrilled over anything like she was that trip.

He'd hidden it better, trying to play it cool, but he'd been excited, too.

He'd pictured her on the beach, running in the sand and smiling and laughing and drinking from a coconut. He'd imagined sneaking to the beach one night and making love to her in the ocean.

He'd imagined getting down on one knee and asking her to be his travel partner for life.

She'd been arrested two weeks before they were supposed to leave.

He tossed the little magazine back into the box, shaking his head to clear it of the memories and long-lost dreams.

The only thing left in the worn box was books.

Aelin had volunteered at a publishing house, trying to get hired as a fiction editor, and she'd always had a book in her ridiculously heavy pocket book.

She'd given him a few of her favorites, claiming that if he ever wanted to know the "real her," he had to read them.

A statement that made a lot more sense now than it used to.

He grabbed the one on top and leafed through it, going through the pages and scanning.

When that didn't yield anything, he flipped to the back of the book and looked at the inscription she'd written him.

March 1

Rowan,

I know you're not a fan of fiction, let alone romantic, feminist fiction, but I hope you'll read this and fall in love with Elizabeth's character like I did.

Aelin

He turned the book over and looked at the front again, then flipped through it again, then went through the whole process again.

Why did he feel like something about this didn't add up? And why was this, of all things, what she'd left as a breadcrumb?

He didn't figure it out until he reread the inscription for the fifth time and realized the date she'd written.

March 1st.

It was wrong; she'd given him this book on his birthday in February. He remembered because he'd laughed about her giving a grown man a romance novel for his birthday.

Why had she put March 1st? And why did that date stand out in his mind?

Stomach dropping, he finally figured out why that date was so important. It was the date of the first murder.

Maddison Kliff, a state senator who controversially wanted to fund renewable energy in the upcoming year, had been murdered the morning of March 1st eight years ago.

Breadcrumb.

He grabbed the next book from the stack, Wuthering Heights, and flipped to the end.

Almost the exact same inscription, except the date was April 13th, and the inspiring character was Linton Heathcliff.

April 13th was the day another victim died.

Rowan's heart started pounding, so hard he thought he was going to either pass out or go into cardiac arrest.

What was the connection between these dates, characters, and victims? Rowan could feel it in his gut that this was what she'd been talking about. It had to be.

He flipped through the books again, looking for something else, but there was nothing there. Nothing was underlined or highlighted, and the books were all in brand-new condition, no pages were bookmarked.

"What are you trying to tell me, Aelin?" he whispered, rubbing at his temples.

He made a list of all the dates and characters, stared at it until he thought he'd go blind, and tried to think like her.

Except her mind was a complex puzzle he'd never quite solved, so that didn't give him anything besides a headache.

He looked in the box again, hoping to magically find another note or something that explained everything in simple, idiot-proof terms.

But all that was there was that damn Aruba magazine.

It's the perfect place to hide from your real life.

The words came rushing back to him, so suddenly and violently it was like his subconscious had been shouting it for a while.

Was that it?

Maybe the connection wasn't only between the dates and characters, but it also had something to do with Aruba.

Maybe that was where this secret, whatever it was, was hiding.

Knowing he was probably grasping at straws, Rowan grabbed his phone and called the one person who'd help him.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I need a favor, Gavriel."

He heard a heavy sigh. "Like a we've been friends for twenty years favor or like an I'm the Chief of Police favor?"

"The latter," Rowan answered.

"Dammit, Rowan, you're going to get me fired one day." That was what he said every time. There was a long pause, then, "What do you need?"

"Flight manifests from Rifthold to Aruba from ten different days eight years ago."

Gavriel caught on quickly. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a former flame of yours, would it? One currently serving time for ten murders from eight years ago?"

"Of course not," he lied, knowing he was busted.

Another sigh. "You need to let this go, kid."

Rowan ran a hand over his face, knowing that wasn't possible. Not when, for the first time since he'd been assigned this God forbidden case, he had a lead.

"Can you help me or not?"

"I will, as long as you promise to drop it once whatever you're chasing ends up to be yet another dead end."

Knowing he didn't have another choice, Rowan agreed.

Gavriel told him he'd send them over, then said softly, "I know you loved her, Rowan, but it's time to move on."

It's not that easy, he thought, thinking once again of Aelin sitting in that tiny cell, skin pale and hair too long.

"Thanks for your help," he said instead, hanging up before the lecture could continue.

A few minutes later, he was printing out the passenger lists from all the Rifthold to Aruba flights on each of the ten dates.

Starting with August 1st, he went through, passenger by passenger, and looked for an Elizabeth.

There'd been three direct flights to Aruba that day, so by the time he found it, his eyes were so tired he almost missed it entirely.

But there was a name that stuck out, one that was straight out of his copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Seat 14C had been occupied by Elizabeth Darcy, and she'd flown directly from Rifthold to Aruba on August 1st.

Rowan's jaw damn near hit the floor.

His hands shook as he highlighted the name, writing the victim's name next to it to keep it straight in his head.

His mind whirled with possible explanations, but he didn't let himself think about anything except the next date.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he went through the passenger list for April 13th.

And sure enough, Linton Heathcliff was on one of the flights. In the same damn seat.

"Holy fuck," he whispered, grabbing the next sheet of paper.

He went date by date, flight by flight, and by the time he'd located every character, he was sure of what he'd found. What she'd left for him.

It wasn't a breadcrumb, it was the whole goddamn loaf.

Rowan barely made it to the kitchen sink before his stomach emptied as an explanation of what had really happened eight years ago started to form in his mind.

He didn't have all the pieces, but the ones he did have made him literally sick to think about.

Her insistence on being innocent, her begging him to look again, telling him only he could find the clues... it all made sense.

The doubt he'd been struggling with for eight long years suddenly disappeared, replaced by a certainty so swift and thorough and all encompassing, it almost took his breath away.

She hadn't been lying.

She hadn't killed those ten people.

She couldn't have, because...

"They're still alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dun dun duuuuun

part 4 out next Friday (sorry for the slow updates I'm in summer school)

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