#probably gonna try and keep the call as short as I can because I’m ~exhausted~ and haven’t done shit since I got home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atsadi-shenanigans · 2 months

Text

Feeding Alligators 31 - The Bachelorette

Everyone takes a goddamn breather.

On AO3.

Which is when Gale and Shadowheart find y’all.

“What��s all this about a pass?” Shadowheart says, scenting blood in the water.

“That is where we find my people and the cure for these parasites,” Lae’zel says. “We leave immediately.”

To a chorus of negatives.

Astarion groans, because he’s Astarion. Gale questions the wisdom of setting out on a different venture with other priorities already in play. Shadowheart’s lungs have been magic-ed closed again, and while she can stand, walking is pushing it. Wyll just looks troubled (you remember his gut-churning horror over leaving the demon woman and the defenseless who might stumble into her path).

“Why don’t we at least rest here tonight and figure everything out tomorrow morning?” you say.

And then they’re all looking at you, and you wish you’d kept your stupid mouth shut.

“You found a potion?” Gale says. “I couldn’t find you after that mess down there.”

When you ran away. You ditched them. You couldn’t do anything to help, but you should have stayed; they were there on your idea.

“I didn’t want to be in the way,” you say and gesture to Shadowheart. It’s only halfway a lie. “I don’t know about medicine here. I’m sorry. Are you gonna be okay?”

“After some rest and once wiser opinions prevail,” she says and shrugs.

Fuck a duck.

Y’all are starting to draw a crowd, too. Both tieflings and druids. After what just happened, it makes your skin crawl to have so many eyes on you.

“We should probably make camp, then,” you say.

And one by one, the others agree. Now that everything is wearing off, all the adrenaline petering out, the exhaustion comes knocking.

Y’all set up on an outcrop above the druid circle. The chanting stopped. No more green haze swirling in a vortex around, what you can now make out, is an antlered idol. Rath calls a huddle outside the stone door, and he must announce what happened. Some of the druids slump in relief. But others lean in close to whisper. You catch at least two throwing glares at the steps up to the tiefling cave.

You hope they keep themselves armed, tonight.

So that’s one part of this dumpster fire banked. The tieflings can’t stay forever (don’t want to now, for obvious reasons). And as long as they plan to pack up and hit the trail, the goblins need to be dealt with.

But there’s no looming forced march, now. You’ve cut the hair holding the sword of Damocles. If nothing else, you accomplished that.

It’s only late afternoon, but y’all’s group is done. Even Lae’zel, after muttering and (you assume) swearing, takes a moment after she removes her armor to run her clawed fingers through her hair.

Then she busts out her cleaning kit, including that goddamn wheel.

You manage to join Astarion in setting up your tent as far away as possible (which puts you both near the ledge of the little promontory y’all are on). The sun shimmers over deep, blue sea out beyond the drop of the cliffs. The wind carries the scent of salt and water and growing things. It’s nice. You hesitate a moment, and then slip off your repurposed boots and roll up the legs of your trousers to give yourself shorts as best you can.

Then you find the closest tree and flop down.

Soft wind traces through your toes as you wiggle them. You scrunch them into the soft grass and sigh.

“You picked what I think might be the most beautiful spot here.” Wyll, heading up the slope from main camp holding two cups. He hands you one as he comes to a stop beside you. “May I join you?”

You beckon to the open spot of grass. He sinks down. Sighs. Glances at your bare legs and feet and then, with a smile, starts toeing off his own boots.

“Mmm,” he says and takes a sip of what smells like wine. “That’s much better. Good thinking.

You nod. Give him a silent toast and take a sip. Try not to grimace.

Wyll chuckles. “Not to your liking, I presume?”

The wine tastes like all wine does to you: intensely bitter. “Hints of cherries” a label might say. “Subtle smokiness.” It’s all bitter. Rotten, bitter grape juice. A slander to perfectly good juice, even.

“I don’t like alcohol,” you say. Because it doesn’t end at wine.

Beer? Sparkling, bitter wheat juice.

Whiskey? A burning, bitter punch to the back of your throat.

Vodka? Right out; you took a single sip and gagged into the sink.

This, finally out of all things, earns a startled look out of Wyll. “None at all?”

You sniff the wine. Try another sip. Still bad. “Nope. I’ll drink it if it’s mixed with other stuff that covers it. But even then, I can still taste it.”

You can’t tell if his expression is perplexed, pitying, or just amazed. He sets his own cup down right on the grass and leans back on his hands. “So what do you drink, where you come from?”

“Water. Tea.” A thought occurs. You try to keep your voice nice and normal and level. “Do y’all have coffee here?”

“Yes, actually.”

oh my god oh my GOD.

That thought must be showing loud and clear on your face, because he holds up a halting hand. “But it’s rare along the Sword Coast. You mostly only find it in port towns.”

Motherfucker.

You’ve heard the name Baldur’s Gate from some of the others. Astarion is maybe from there? Maybe he knows a place. Maybe you’ll have a reason to go there after all this brainworm bullshit.

“To my recollection, coffee is rather bitter,” Wyll says.

“Not with enough milk and chocolate.”

“Your people drink milk?” he says.

You pause. Right. Because that’s a genetic thing. One that might not be present over in Faerun (but they make cheese?).

“Historically, my mother’s people handle dairy very well,” you say. “My dad’s, not so much, but there’s enough Wh—of my mother’s side over there that my dad never had any issues. None of his side does, far as I know.”

Your fourth cousin might—little five-year-old spitfire. But she’s the only one.

Then you register what he didn’t ask about, and you have to breath calm and move slow so you don’t give your damn self whiplash. “Do you know what chocolate is.”

Please. Please. If there’s one good thing in this whole shitmess, please.

“Oh yes. Again, port cities, but my home town had at least once shop,” Wyll says and you want to kiss him on the mouth. He catches that expression, too. His good eye sparkles. “You’re a connoisseur, I take it?”

You got no idea how the fuck a French word translates, and you don’t care.

“I don’t care who I have to kiss, marry, or kill, if this place has chocolate, I am going to get it.”

His eyebrows lift. He gives a sort of “hmm” lip gesture and nods.

“Noted,” he says.

You both sit in silence for a moment. You’ve probably made this awkward. You get real excited about few things, but when you do, hoo boy.

You take another sip of the wine to try to cover it, and because he was nice enough to bring it and hospitality is written on your bones. He finally takes pity and gestures for the glass. You almost don’t give it back (it’s so rude). But then he gives you a look, and he’s still got that playful glint. He’s not mad. He’s not even annoyed. You hand it over.

“I wanted to tell you,” Wyll says and nonchalantly pours your wine into his. Is that something people do? Wine does seem important to everyone else; probably bad form to let it go to waste like that. “The way you handled that situation back there, with our gith friend. You did well. Not everyone could stand up against her like that. It was brave.”

It really wasn’t. She was attracting attention; would have attracted more, and with what y’all just did, that seemed a bad idea.

You shrug. “Was just trying to keep us all outta trouble.”

Wyll nods. Sips his wine. Stares at the blue sky a moment, where a crow circles far overhead. You wonder if it’s one of Bird Lady’s.

“Well. I’m glad to see the leader of the group I’m joining has a practical head on her shoulders,” he says.

“I’m not…” you start to say. Oh jesus fuck.

He gives you a knowing look. “Especially when that practicality includes protecting people.”

His praise sends a flicker of warmth through you. Quickly doused by cold shame. You’re not a protector. You never saved anybody but yourself. You were good and practical about that, leaving everyone else behind, leaving them to take the blame when you ran off into the night—

You give a tight-lipped nod. Wyll seems like a genuinely good person. There’s no way he’ll understand your bullshit, let alone sympathize with it.

He gives a formal kind of bow, and heads back down the slope towards the campfire, where Gale has two pots sitting over raked-out coals.

The leader. Christ’s sake. The only damn thing you’re fit to lead is a parade of your own mistakes off the edge of a cliff. Why in the fuck these people keep saying that is beyond you.

Though, a little voice whispers. That means you made yourself important, right? Enough to keep around?

Only so long as you keep performing well enough. Only so long as your shitty plans pan out. The second one doesn’t, the second they see how goddamn inadequate you actually are…

Fuck. You should have kept that wine. Slam the rest back just to take the edge off the constant, churning anxiety in your gut. You fiddle with the glowing ring on your pinkie finger.

A scrape as Astarion emerges from his tent with a small stool he one hundred percent did not have before. He sets it down, wiggles a bit to make sure it’s not going to tip over. Glances over to you, and then down to Wyll’s retreating back.

“Making friends, are we?” he says.

You shrug.

“The Blade of Frontiers,” Astarion says. “I might have heard of him once or twice back in Baldur’s Gate. In the lower districts, mind you. The taverns there care more about quantity rather than quality, if you know what I mean. I didn’t think we’d end up inviting obscure monster hunters into camp.”

“Wait, he’s what?” Astarion had been coiled tight when Gandrel identified himself. The look in his eyes as his fingers inched up to the hilt of his knife. “You don’t think he’s here for you, is he?”

“Oh darling, is that concern I hear?” When you only throw some plucked grass at him, he snorts. “No. I expect someone of his caliber wouldn’t be manipulated by the likes of Cazador. Though one can never be too certain, I suppose.”

Wyll, now seated at the campfire, sits enthralled by Gale and a lecture of some kind. He seems affable. Courteous. And very competent.

Unless that’s the point. He saw you as the leader and came to chat. Be friendly. Exactly like someone would do if they were trying to make themself appear non-threatening. He could be playing a long game. Either lull y’all into a false sense of security to grab Astarion in the night, or simply ingratiate himself well enough to try to turn y’all against the vampire spawn.

“Though I suppose having a mindflayer parasite dims the odds of that,” Astarion continues. “Hardly enough time to receive a summons and get himself abducted and brainwormed.”

“Or the shitbag who turned you already knew him, he already got himself abducted, and then that shitbag contacted him. How do y’all communicate over long distances? Is that a vampire thing at all?”

A pause. His whole tone lifts up into a teasing lilt. “You are concerned. Or at least planning something no doubt sinister in that devious little mind of yours.”

You turn and find him a lot closer than we was, looming over you. He’s changed out of his armor and into that silly, frilly shirt. He peers down at you with the sun lighting his hair into a white halo around his face.

“There’s not much we can do right now, I reckon,” you say. “If he’s just some wandering guy hunting this demon woman who got brainwormed like the rest of us, he seems like a good ally. I think we ought to wait and see.”

Astarion taps one long finger against his lips. Watches the camp a moment. And then, all silky, “And if he were a threat?”

You shrug again. “We’d have to deal with it, yeah?”

“Mmm. I have to admit a certain level of curiosity, my dear. Why go through all this plotting and planning to protect a vampire spawn? Even one as beautiful as my good self? We’re monsters, you know—though maybe you don’t.” And if that isn’t a backhanded insult. “Exactly the type of dangerous creature heroes like our good Blade put down. Yet here you are.”

Astarion is a grade-A ass. A for asshole. He left you high and dry after biting you. He tried to bite you in the first place. He’s rude and a thief and very clearly rolls his eyes whenever you do something halfway decent for somebody. You shouldn’t care. Were y’all back on Earth and all of these people normal humans, if you met this man at work or something, you wouldn’t give two shits about him.

Maybe it’s the brainworm connection. Maybe it’s just the first layer of foundation in shared fucking trauma. You’ve only known these people a little over a week, but already, the idea of losing one of them makes you nervous. And not just because you can’t boil a potato over a fucking campfire. It’s because, well…you might like some of them. Sorta. Very tentatively.

Even this pompous jackass.

You ain’t telling him one word of that, though.

“Pretty sure it’d fuck group morale beyond all repair if we go around letting each other get murdered or kidnapped or whatever,” you say. “Sets a bad example.”

That probably sounded really callous, didn’t it? Or maybe Astarion don’t care about stuff like that (he was down for letting Lae’zel go full ax murderer on that idiot man earlier).

The man tilts his head in a sort of nod. Then stands there for a couple of seconds, staring at you. Long enough to become uncomfortable. Long enough you open your mouth to ask if you got a bug in your hair.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he says.

“Ain’t nobody let Gandrel know who you were. I doubt anybody’ll just stand by if somebody else—Wyll—tries to stab you.”

He actually gives you a fake little pout. “Oh, will you swoop in to defend me, darling? It might be a bit tricky without a chasm to shove him into. Though if you could get him up here, to the edge of the cliff…”

Okay. Wow. Fucking asshole. Maybe Gale had a point kicking him out in the dirt.

Before you can string those words together, he squats down next to you, face level with yours. His eyes are such an interesting shade close enough to see them. Most days, they’re a dull crimson, kind of brown in the right light at the right angle. But all up in his business like this, in full daylight, they’re the color of fresh, arterial blood.

“I do think it’s…sweet,” he says and boy howdy, that last word is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. “Not many would offer to take on a hero for my sake. Even if I’m reasonably certain you’d find a way to kill him without getting your own hands dirty.”

“I ain’t said a single goddamn word about killing—” you start.

And then he reaches towards you. Both brain and body sort of trip over their own feet, and you sit there like a jackass as his fingers brush your hair. Pluck up a blade of grass. Accidentally brush your ear on the way out.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s been bugging me for several minutes. And it sounds like dinner is nearly ready; I couldn’t on good conscience let our dearest leader show up with foliage in her hair. Even if she was the one who put it there.”

When—oh. Right. Throwing grass just blows it back at you most of the time.

Then Astarion stands, dusts off his hands, even as Gale’s voice rings out that supper is, indeed, ready.

He waits for you to climb back to your feet. You step past him to start downhill, and notice he don’t follow.

“There’s really no point in continuing the ruse anymore,” he says and waves dismissively at the gathering below. “I’ll stay at my tent, I think.”

You get it. If you couldn’t eat food no more (wait, what the fuck happened to all those meals he took back to his tent in the first days?) you probably wouldn’t want to sit around and watch everyone else enjoy it. Still. Isolating himself ain’t gonna help none of y’all.

“You sure?” you say.

“Quite. I have a few things I need to attend to.”

Well, you can’t force him. “Right. I think we’re gonna eat up and then figure out what to do, next. Want me to come get you for that?”

His head tilts again, the barest twitch. He looks…odd. Then he’s all smug and smarm again when he grins. “If you like. However, I’m rather beginning to trust your judgment, darling. Careful you don’t take on too many burdens, though?”

Goddamnit, he’s doing it, too. None of them should be doing that. They don’t know you like you do; they don’t know how much of a fuckup you really are, and you’re in too deep now to admit it.

Astarion glances back at you. His chin lowers a touch; gives his eyes a hooded look. “Do feel free to seek me out should you need someone to help alleviate any of those burdens, hmm?”

What a bizarre way to phrase that. And it’s not like he’s volunteered to help with literally anything else (that wasn’t murder). Still. If he wants in on the planning?

“Yeah,” you say and hope it doesn’t sound as weirded out as you are.

Guy is such a nut.

Notes:

Astarion: *seductively brushing Eleanor’s ear* Do let me know if I can alleviate you. Eleanor: *mii channel music playing* Why does he talk like that? My poor girl has the romantic intelligence of a potato. 😂

#feeding alligators fic #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #plus size tav #demisexual tav #bg3 fic #astarion fic #slow burn #they're idiots #but they'll figure it out #very eventually

9 notes · View notes

dorkwithfeelings · 2 years

Note

begging screaming crying sobbing and pleading for dylan and ryan content

literally anything cute and fluffy or like,,, them during the aftermath of it all, reuniting w/each other, bc the quarry didn't show us the characters interact with each other after everything ended so now i have No Closure and i desperately crave it

i need it like i need air

I'm so excited for my first request ahhh-- I just hope it doesn't disappoint! I agree with the no closure, not just with these two but also with everyone else! Looks like us fans have to do all the hard work ourselves. Anyways, I hope you can enjoy this little piece! I poured my heart into it <3

DISCLAIMER - This is by no means beta read, but I did my best!

Title: A Little Closure (totally not because I didn't know what else to call it)

Summary: Dylan and Ryan take a moment to reflect while waiting for the cops to arrive.

Pairing: Dylan x Ryan

Word Count: 768

Genre: Fluff...?

Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of injury.

Whispers of the morning breeze mingled with the song of waking birds in the air around the otherwise quiet group of trauma-ridden camp counselors. They’d survived the night by the skin of their teeth, but what else would they have to fight? The cops would be involved, the public would find out about everything and that all boiled down to one question. Who in the world was going to believe anything they’d say? It was bittersweet to think that their battle was only just starting.

Dylan perched his butt on one of the bottom few steps that led up to the lodge entrance, running scabby fingers through his sweat-soaked, blood-crusted hair. To say he felt gross would be a massive understatement. He was filthy and in so much pain. The stump where his other hand once was throbbed, bandages grimy and in desperate need of changing. It had been easy to forget the stump throughout the night, always having something else to worry about in its place.

Everything was all a teeny bit fucked up.

“That was one heck of a rough night, huh?” Came Ryan’s voice, tone soft and a little gravelly. Dylan looked up at him, having been so distracted he’d not noticed him approaching. He shrugged, lips forming a lop-sided smile, nothing short of exhausted.

“Oh, you think?” Dylan questioned, trying to pull off his usual humor. “I thought it was a breeze. Probably had worse nights, honestly.”

“Worse than getting your hand cut off?” Ryan arched a brow, crossing his arms.

“Pfft, a minor inconvenience.”

Engulfed by silence, each boy let out a sigh. Ryan sat down beside Dylan, leaving a small gap between them.

After allowing the silence to hang for a moment, Ryan spoke up again. “It’s alright to show emotion, y’know?”

Huffing through his nose, Dylan propped his elbows on his thighs and looked at Ryan, chin resting in his one remaining hand.

“I think all genuine emotion has been sucked out of me right now, so I’m overcompensating with supreme sarcasm.” There was no other way for Dylan to put it. He felt numb, for the most part. “I’m sure it’ll all hit me for real soon, then I’ll end up breaking down and sobbing, all that jazz.” His tone was dry, holding very little of his usual witty charm.

“That doesn’t sound pleasant. Like, at all.” Ryan remarked.

“Well, sometimes life isn’t pleasant,” Dylan replied.

Ryan didn’t like seeing him this way. It made his gut churn. Dylan was so full of life before the shit hit the fan last night, bad jokes coming out one after another, presence alone enough

to keep the good vibes afloat.

“We’ve got a long road ahead, man.” It was Dylan breaking the silence once again. “When the police and medics get here, they’re gonna be asking questions… I’ve gotta somehow convince them that I asked you to cut my hand off, because I was munched on by a werewolf.”

Ryan pulled a face that perfectly represented ‘oh fuck’, because oh fuck. He’’d been so caught up in making it out alive that he hadn’t realized until now just how much convincing they were going to have to do. The same probably went for the others too.

“You see, officer, I screamed at my friend here to cut off my hand because a creature of myth busted through the radio hut roof and mauled on my wrist.” Dylan recited to the air, Ryan watching and knowing they were probably going to get hauled off somewhere for psychiatric therapy.

It felt like the whole world was about to declare war against them, and that they were destined to lose.

But if one thing was for sure, it was that Ryan would not let Dylan lose all hope in this situation. They still had to get to know each other better, after all. There was a kiss that Ryan intended to follow up on, and while now wasn’t really the right time, he was sure one would come along.

Putting his hand on Dylan’s shoulder, Ryan gave an encouraging squeeze. “You’re not alone in all this. I got your back, through thick and thin.”

And there it was. Dylan’s ever vibrant smile shining through for the first time since truth or dare at the firepit, paired with a little glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“It’s cool to have your back,” He chimed, slowly arching a brow too. “But can I have your number too?”

And as the dull rumbling of police vehicles pulling in towards the lodge grew closer, Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Smooth."

#dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #the quarry dylan #the quarry ryan #dylan x ryan #the quarry #supermassive games

96 notes · View notes

moxleys-darlin · 1 year

Text

The Tribal Chief's Respite

Pairing: Roman/Yuta, implied Shield/BCC/Renee

Summary: Roman is burnt out from the "Tribal Chief" persona, the twins call in reinforcements.

Disclaimer: I don't claim anything but the idea; characters (unfortunately) and gifs aren't mine

(Gifs aren't mine)

Respite: a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.

Roman stalks into his hotel room and throws his duffle bag on his bed, his cousins walking close behind him. He sighs angrily when they act like they're not going to leave despite there only being one bed.

"You two don't have to stay, you can go."

"Aw, come on Uce, we can hang out for a bit, it's been a long night." Jey shrugs, heading to the chair in the corner, but stopping when he notices the heated look on Roman's face.

"Exactly, sorry but I've had enough of people tonight, I'd like to be alone." Roman sits heavily on the bed, scrubbing his face. His phone buzzes, so he checks it, and his frown deepens.

Tesoro 💙: I'm sorry Chief, I can't get away. I will try to call you tonight if I have a chance. H is trying to kill me 🙄

He sends back a quick message letting him know that it's okay, that he understands and can't wait for his call later. He gets back the kiss emoji and he decides to silence his phone and put it on the charger.

"Uce, you sure you want to be alone?"

Roman startles, forgetting about Jimmy and Jey being in the room, he flops back on the bed, hand over his eyes.

"Yeah, I really would, I'm tired and I'm done with today. Let Heyman know that I don't want to hear anything about work until Monday at the earliest." With his eyes covered Roman never notices the look that passes between the twins or Jimmy checking his phone and smiling.

"Sure Uce, whatever you say, we'll head out, just text us if you need anything."

Roman waves his other hand in goodbye and hears the door close. He sighs heavily when he hears the twins speaking lowly, probably to each other about his moodiness. He feels bad about how he dismissed his cousins, but he is just so exhausted tonight, this persona of his is making him tired and irritable. He really liked it in the beginning, relished in it really, because after Mox left, he wanted away from the Shield “Big Dog” persona that everyone booed.

As time went on though, with the abuse he had to put Jey through, it started to weigh on him. Now some fans find him boring, call him a part-time wrestler due to his new schedule and contract, and want him to drop the championship. Seth told him to stay off social media because those fans didn’t know what they were talking about and there were way more fans that love him and this championship reign. Roman scrubs his face again and swings his legs around, sitting up, to check his phone again. His hand is on the phone when he hears a knock on the door.

“I told you I’m not in the mood for company guys, go on and have a good night.” Roman calls out and is frustrated as the person knocks on the door again.

“I swear guys if y’all don’t-“ He yanks the door open to yell at his cousins when he is stunned into silence.

"You gonna make me go away too, alofa (love)? I did make sure I got all of your favorites, so I hope that gives me enough brownie points to be allowed to stay."

"Yuta? What are you doing here, baby? How-you're supposed to be at Rampage wrestling tonight, it's a live show." Yuta shrugs.

"I got done with everything early, then I got a message from the twins saying that you were being. a grouchy menace, so I told Regal and Mox I was going to come and keep you company. So," Yuta drawls out. "Can I come in? Or do I have to take all these treats and share them with the twins?"

Yuta giggles as Roman takes the drink holder out of his hand and grabs his wrist, dragging him into the room, with his other hand. Roman sets the drinks down on the dresser, then takes the bags from Yuta's hand, sitting them on the bed, and pulls Yuta into his chest, hugging him tightly. Yuta relishes in the heat of Roman's body, nuzzling into his chest until Roman pulls him back slightly. He puts his hands on Yuta's cheeks, tilts his face up, and kisses him deeply.

"Hey, I'm here. I don't know what's wrong, but I want to make you feel better, okay?" Yuta pulls back from the kiss and brushes his nose across Roman's jaw. "I didn't know how I could help so after I got the text, I went to the people that know you the best and asked for ideas to cheer you up." Yuta pulls back from Roman's arms and heads toward the bed to the bags.

"You did? Baby, you could have shown up empty-handed and I would've been happy." Roman skims his fingertips down Yuta's back, relishing in his baby's shivers. "Just what goodies did you bring to make me less grouchy, baby boy?" Roman whispers, leaning down across the younger man's back so that his lips touch Yuta's ear.

"I," Yuta clears his throat. "Mox told me about the Shield tradition, how after a bad match, you guys would make hot chocolate and relax together. I couldn't make it, but Starbucks was still open, so I decided to order us some. While I was there I saw these chocolate croissants and I remembered how much you love chocolate when you're stressed."

You're the sweetest, baby-"

"I'm not done, Ro! So, then Seth told me about this traditional Hawaiian dish that you love but can't find sometimes, so I did some digging and found a place on the way here that has really good reviews, now we have Musubi for dinner!" Roman's sour mood almost disappears at Yuta’s excitement about his accomplishments. “Finally, Renee told me the ultimate secret. She said that Seth kinda hates Monsters and how they taste so you don’t drink them around him because he won’t kiss you. Then I thought, if I can kiss Mox after he chain smokes, I can absolutely kiss you with your Monster breath as long, of course, as it’s my favorite kind.” Yuta winks, laughing when Roman rolls his eyes and kisses Yuta.

“So, they just told you all my secrets, huh?” Roman jokes as he goes for their hot chocolates, sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard.

He hands Yuta his drink when he settles in next to Roman, taking the croissant his baby is offering him. Taking a drink of the hot chocolate, he sighs as he remembers the nights he and his Hounds would sit around, cuddled up, and relaxing.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong? What’s making you so upset?”

Roman takes a minute to get his thoughts collected, then decides to just lay it all out and be brutally honest. Yuta just listens, only interrupting to get clarification or give some advice. When the drinks and croissants are gone, Roman is feeling much lighter, Yuta had finished his snack a bit earlier than him and had been drawing patterns on Roman’s thigh, keeping him calm.

“I’m just frustrated, and I hate how I have to treat my family, I hate how I have to cheat to win almost every match, and I hate that people seem bored with me. I wish I could work with Seth or Mox again; I miss how easy and flawless it was, I just miss them.” Roman sighs and Yuta rolls himself over on his chest, propping himself up by his elbow.

“Why don’t you and I go take a shower and relax, we’ll get clean, come back and eat, and maybe I’ll give you a back massage. It may not cure you completely, but hopefully, it helps a little bit.” Roman swears he falls a little more in love with Yuta.

“Yeah baby, that sounds amazing.” Yuta's smile brightens and he rolls out of the bed.

“Perfect! Stay right there, I’ll go turn on the shower and get it ready.” He runs off before Roman can answer.

Roman smiles when he hears the shower start running and reaches over to grab his phone, shooting off a text to one of his group chats.

OGs ❤️ (Roman’s Phone)

Me: Y’all just giving away all my secrets to Baby Boy huh?

Tesoro 💙: Awww he made it? That’s great!

Canada ❤️: You needed some tender, loving care and Yuta is magical at that

Cucciolo 🐺: Let the Pup take care of you, Big Dog. You’re grumpy and angry, J&J said so… we love you, go relax and text us tomorrow

“Roman! The water’s ready! Come here.” Roman’s glad that Yuta isn’t in the room to see him almost fall off the bed with how fast he moves to get to his boyfriend.

He walks into the bathroom to see Yuta surrounded by the steam, smiling when Yuta beckons him over with the crook of his finger. He puts himself in his lover’s hands, shivering as Yuta skims his fingers up Roman’s sides as he pulls his shirt off, and throws it on the floor near the door. Yuta places his hands on the waistband of his sweatpants and looks into Roman’s eyes shyly.

“May I? Or do you want to do this part?”

Roman puts his hands on top of Yuta’s and pushes his pants down an inch or so, moving his hands to his baby’s face, stroking. He groans as Yuta kneels, taking his pants down to the floor and hears his lover gasp as he realizes Roman isn’t wearing underwear. Yuta keeps eye contact as he helps Roman step out of the pants, a small blush coloring his cheeks. Roman puts his hand down to help Yuta up, then takes his time stripping Yuta of his clothes and steps into the shower with him.

His lover refuses to let Roman do anything except tell him what product to use.

“Mox uses 2-in-1, and everyone else’s things are different. Seth and Mox told me you’re particular about your products, so I want to make sure I know what to use for you.”

Roman is speechless and can’t think of a response that doesn’t make him sound like he’s ready to sell his soul to Yuta. He chooses to kiss the life out of his baby instead while Yuta scrubs his body with a rag and his body wash only pulling away so Yuta can scrub his legs and thighs quickly.

“I love the smell of your body wash,” Yuta groans as he buries his face in Roman’s neck for a moment. “I can’t reach your hair though.” Yuta pouts as he backs away and looks up into Roman’s face.

His baby’s eyes grow wide, and his mouth drops as Roman turns around and gently kneels in front of Yuta.

“Does this work Baby Boy?” Roman looks back, smirking when he sees Yuta’s slack face and chuckles when his lover shakes his head to clear the cobwebs.

“Ye-Yeah that’s perfect, Big Dog.”

Roman growls lowly as Yuta buries his fingers in his long hair. He usually only lets Renee or Seth do this, sometimes even Regal, but Yuta is being so sweet and gentle trying not to hurt Roman. His baby listens attentively as he explains how he takes care of his hair in the shower, groaning deeply when he feels Yuta run the comb through his hair.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt? I was trying-“

“Shh, you’re okay baby, that definitely wasn’t a sound of pain. You’re doing perfect sweet boy.” Roman tips his head back to look up at Yuta and reaches his hand back to grab Yuta’s and gets him to continue.

Yuta finishes Roman’s hair and helps him stand back up. His lover tries to protest when Roman goes to give him the same treatment but lets him do as he pleases when Roman persists.

“Come on alofa (love), let’s get out, dry off, and eat something, if I know you, you haven’t had much today.”

Roman lets Yuta dry him off and after he does the same, they put on sweatpants but leave their chests bare. Yuta leaves him to finish his hair care to set up the food. Roman comes out to the food on the dresser and Yuta sitting on the edge of the bed with a comb and a hair tie.

“Come here and sit in front of me, Mox taught me to braid using Bryan, he said you like your hair braided and played with. Just tell me if I pull too hard or hurt you.” Yuta gets quiet for a second but continues. “I don’t want to make your night worse.” Roman walks over and grabs Yuta’s face, bending over and kissing him deeply, and he smiles when his baby whimpers as he pulls away.

“The only way you would make my night worse is if you left right now, not that I would let you, of course.” He chuckles and pecks a kiss on Yuta’s lips again. “If Mox taught you, it’ll be perfect, and I absolutely love your fingers and how they feel, especially in my hair.” Roman lifts Yuta’s hands and kisses his fingertips.

Yuta reaches back to grab a pillow and puts it on the floor so Roman is comfortable then helps Roman sit on the floor in front of him. Yuta makes quick work of the braid, face reddening each time Roman growls or moans when he tugs on the strands a certain way. Yuta finally reaches the end of the braid and wraps the hair tie around it, tugging gently so that Roman’s head is tipped back and kisses him on the forehead.

“All done, Chief, now let’s get some food and watch a movie, then maybe I’ll give you a massage if you’re lucky.”

Roman gets off the floor, going to grab the food from the dresser and a few drinks from the hotel’s refrigerator. He turns around and his heart stutters when he sees Yuta leaning against the headboard of the bed. He sets the food down by Yuta and grabs his phone from the side table.

“Don’t move baby, stay just like that.” Roman snaps a couple of photos while Yuta laughs and covers his face when he realizes what’s happening.

“Roman!” Yuta groans as his phone goes off with a text message to the Polycule group chat. “No more pictures, come sit with me and eat, Harry Potter is on and it’s almost over so that’s perfect.” Yuta pats the bed, urging Roman to come sit with him.

Roman laughs as Yuta tries the Musubi for the first time, having to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t like it, kissing Yuta’s pout off his face.

“But it’s one of your favorites, Ro. I, at least, want to like it!”

“Seth hates it too, I don’t even think Claudio or Mox likes it either, maybe only Renee or Regal can eat it, they don’t love it but they like it.” Roman chuckles.

Dinner and Harry Potter pass without incident after Roman gets Yuta some leftovers from the fridge that he’s sure was one of the twins’ food, but they’ll get over it. Yuta ends up curled against Roman’s chest as they finish the movie, subconsciously drawing patterns on Roman’s chest and stomach. His fingers draw up his bigger lover’s chest to his neck, and he lets them bury themselves into Roman’s beard. Roman growls as Yuta scratches at his jaw and pets through his beard.

“Baby Boy, you are definitely not watching the movie.” Roman rumbles out.

“Hmm… no I’m not Chief, have I ever told you how much I love these greys in your beard?” Yuta asks as he nuzzles his nose along Roman’s jaw. “Why don’t you turn over and lay flat, alofa (love), I think you’ve earned that massage now.” Yuta whispers as he leans close to Roman’s ear, nipping at his earlobe sweetly.

“I think you were secretly sent to kill us all slowly, angelo (angel).” Roman groans out as he lies on his stomach.

“Kill you? No, more like torture, but none of the others would ever believe you, I’m too sweet to be found out.” Roman’s chuckle is cut off as Yuta seats himself on Roman’s lower back, grinding down slightly to tease him. “Oops, sorry about that, Big Dog.”

“The Devil, I swear.” Roman growls out, feeling a shiver roll down his back as Yuta runs his fingers down his back, leaning down to kiss the back of Roman’s neck.

“You’re so tense, Chief.”

Roman has no chance to answer as Yuta starts massaging his back in earnest, all playfulness put aside as his lover focuses on the knots in his back. Roman is sure he dozes off after a few minutes, waking back up when Yuta resettles on his back and puts lotion on him to help him relax further. He tries to move, but Yuta refuses to let him and lays down next to Roman on his back. He pulls Roman closer to him, leading him to lie on Yuta’s chest, scratching his back to get him back asleep.

“Shh rest alofa (love), get some sleep and I’ll be right here when you wake up tomorrow.” Roman does as he’s told without a fight, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him.

Yuta grabs Roman’s phone from where it was thrown on the bed earlier, finding the group chat he needs.

OGs ❤️ (Roman’s Phone)

Me: It’s Yuta, got him relaxed and resting, I’ll call tomorrow

Tesoro 💙: Damn, you were definitely the right choice for calming him down, so proud of you baby

Cucciolo 🐺: Well shit Pup, you blow him?

Canada ❤️: Jon! Great work babe! Knew you could help him settle and relax! Let us know how you are tomorrow! We love you!

Cucciolo 🐺: What?! That’s what I would’ve done. Love ya Pup, get some rest too.

Tesoro 💙: Love you baby!

Me: Love y’all too, good night

Yuta sends off a quick text to the twins telling them the same thing and locks the phone, placing it on the table next to him. He looks at Roman, who is sleeping peacefully, and smiles, knowing that he is the reason that Roman is happy and content, at least for tonight. He can’t help but feel so in love with this man. He makes sure that Roman is comfortable on him, then lays back, relaxes, and closes his eyes, joining his lover in sleep.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! Much love!! My brain wouldn't work for Chapter 3 of Do You Still Love Me? (but it is coming soon!) so I wrote this!

A HUGE thank you to @sinderellanightwolf, who I'm surprised hasn't gone crazy from getting 3AM messages from me, you have been such a huge help! And to IperOuranos who has been reading snippets of this for me as well! Also, @sarahcakes613, here's another Roman/Yuta for you!

#the shield/bcc/renee poly #blackpool combat polycule #blackpool combat club #bcc polycule #the shield #roman reigns #wheeler yuta #seth rollins #jon moxley #renee paquette #yuta is a cinnamon roll #sweet wheeler yuta #grumpy roman reigns

8 notes · View notes

gyujeongfmd · 1 year

Photo

plot call!

with the event coming to an end, i thought i’d post a plot call considering i’m going to start fresh with threads! (if you’d like to keep some of the event threads, do let me know — i don’t mind continuing!) below the cut will be updates / current state of events regarding gyu & minjung. leave a like or feel free to msg me to plot something out!

gyu

gyu for the most part... is just busy. i hate to do this, considering i don’t consider him a workaholic muse. however, he’s pretty busy because he is writing music for other groups, his own group, all while prepping for a concert tour / new comeback that’s happening in a few months

as a result, he’s just gonna be grumpy when you run into him... or just bitch about how ridiculous it is of gold star to keep him locked in the dungeon till he’s done their bitch work

in terms of personal development, he’s in one of those states of mind where he’s just so physically busy he’s far out of touch from his emotions / what he’s feeling. he basically has no time to be heartbroken (albeit, he’s slowly gotten over his ex to the point where he probably only cries once every month about her each time he passes by their date places) so, mostly, he’s just upset over the workload given

speaking of, anyone in love and ready to flaunt it in front of him? probably gonna make him gag and just roll his eyes because gyujeong will see that as a phony love rather than the real thing then lecture you like he knows what he’s talking about (in reality, he doesn’t know shit)

catch him in the studio, gold star’s building, any off-site dance building or just a random cafe during these times — though, the latter might cause for quick run-in since he doesn’t have time to sit in

some plot points i do have are: someone who comes to platinum’s concert? maybe they’re friends or maybe they’re just friends with his member, and they end up chatting it up post-show.

someone who bumps into him in the studio, talking about the process of whatever song’s he’s writing — we can discuss whatever song, or maybe if your muse is writing a song, they can discuss and toss ideas here and there

this is a funny one — but one of gyu’s new years resolutions is to learn how to drink better. so, maybe it’s unexpected but somehow your muse ends up being his drinking teacher which just amounts to gyu getting drunk and divulging all his deeper secrets only to forget the next morning (ironic start to a friendship where he does the complementing and is a kind boy)

minjung

minjung is exhausted, but less physically more emotionally. last few months have been nothing short of a rollercoaster, and the final touches of our beloved summer are the striking whistle — aka: she’s ready to give up acting and call retirement early

nonetheless, acting is soon to be over and she’s working on equinox comebacks which she is actually happy / excited for since she likes the song and enjoys her part in it

in terms of her solo career, she’s doing less music just because she’s emotionally exhausted to the point of no inspiration when it comes to music. she can’t verbalize any words to how she wants to write, so she just chooses to do the opposite

meaning, her downtime consists of a lot of painting, walking, and museum hopping while mulling over her current state of emotional affairs

during this time, she might seek love advice or ask people what they think about soulmates since she’s constantly trying to craft that out of life

ironically, she’s actually going to do a music stage in america — coachella!! ur gurl is coachella bound, and she’s just happy as she sees it a reprieve from all the shit she’s been through. in tow, she’ll be at gold star prepping for it though it’s still relatively kept on the down low for now

some plot points: i could see someone bumping into her whether it be at gold star or at an undesignated practice room? she’s practicing songs she normally doesn’t perform, so it causes conversation for coachella. ironically, take it one step further and if your muse doesn’t have anything to do, come take the trip with her : )

someone who asks about why she hasn’t write, which then possibly dives into a deeper conversation about feeling so emotionally exhausted you don’t wanna do something? even better if it’s over wine or whiskey

someone who wants to bitch about how icky and mean boys are for playing with your hearts — gossip to the max

maybe, she’s too emotionally exhausted and brushes off your muse which leads to an altercation or misunderstanding for some conflict

aka: i’m open to all ideas and plotting things out further, so don’t hesitate to take a plot point and tweak it any way you want!

#famedcall

4 notes · View notes

geonmia · 2 years

Text

hi all its @epsilonmia again with a muse that absolutely ran me over, hence why sebin had to go and now geon lives !

i’ll but the spark notes version under the cut (along with some plot/thread ideas) but please check out his profile and background and shoot me a message if you’d like to plot!!

so tl;dr:

born in/around grand heights agency but has no memory of his parents; most of his upbringing was actually in a group home setting for orphaned kids. this is also where he met his best friend, a boy called ari, and got the great idea to become a grand heights agent someday

and they both did! but before that, geon realized he was enhanced. he’s reverse-telepathic; he can only send thoughts out, not read other people’s minds. he has to establish a “connection” first though; with strangers he has to maintain eye contact to send his thoughts, but with more practice he can be short distances away and not have to see them to communicate.

long story short, there was an accident and he was turned into a demon during a field mission. the grand heights attitude toward demons isn’t as forgiving as meia’s is plus the senior agent he was working under was especially intolerant and would put down any demon regardless of if they were an active threat or not. so with the urging of his friend, geon ran away from grand heights to survive.

he’s lived in the wilderness for almost two years now. he never truly lost his mind but there were probably moments when it was pretty darn close. he avoided humans, always a little scared that they’d be grand heights agents hunting him down, and would squabble with other demons for resources. somehow he survived all of that without going crazy!

but as a result he kinda lacks a personality now. he’s jumpy and afraid of everything, distrustful that people actually like him being here in meia, and just generally doesn’t want to be either killed or thrown out in the wild again. he just wants to help people.

speaking of, he got to meia by accident. even though it’s only like a 3-4 day walk from grand heights, he somehow got so lost in the wilderness that he never ran into it before. he heard someone being attacked by a demon and got involved in the fight to get the demon away from the human. turns out the human was a meia agent and after the team realized that geon was not a threat, they took him home with them and he joined the agency!

he’s actually really new btw he’s only been in meia for a couple of weeks at most so he’s still very jumpy and still finding himself and his place here

aaaaand some plot ideas!

i would love to have someone be the agent or on the team that first found him... we’d have to talk about what happens next but maybe they feel a bit responsible for him since they’re the reason he’s here now?

because of his enhancement, accidental eye contact sometimes has consequences. he has an annoying song stuck in his head (like baby shark), and after making eye contact, now your muse does too. i’m so sorry.

fun fact: he’s always hungry. we’re not sure if that’s a demon thing or a “i’ve been out in the wild living on tree bark and berries for two years” thing but regardless, he’s gonna timidly ask if you’re gonna finish that meal/snack/whatever you’re eating, and if not, can he have it?

there’s nothing geon wants more than to be human again, so even though he’s still somewhat in recovery and coming back into himself, he’s always there for meia’s demon testing. if he can be part of finding the cure, he’s happy to give his blood, have his vitals taken, whatever it may be. that said, it’s exhausting. he can fall asleep anywhere, so maybe your muse sees him dozing off somewhere unusual (on the stairs? in the middle of lunch? literally standing upright?) and tries to check on him. warning: he’s always jumpy and scared when he’s woken up.

he’s afraid of heights but that’s also why he got into parkour back in his old agency; to try to get over that fear by having skills to keep himself confident and safe when up high. it’d be fun either to have a friend who’s also into that and either wants to train together or learn from him, or maybe someone who sees him jumping on the roof and screams at him to get down!!!

less amicably... the timing of his arrival at meia is rather suspicious... he’s an agent reported dead in a neighboring agency almost two years ago who suddenly shows up again as a demon... coincidentally after kaiser’s resurfaced.... your muse has every reason to distrust him and want to keep a close eye on him.

i would also love to see him interact with muses who loathe demons, because honestly he thinks he deserves that. he’s scared of himself, of that bloodlust that he keeps carefully contained. plus the “no second chances” policy of grand heights.

he’s a baby agent who’s already very well trained, though he is a bit rusty. he originally was a sniper, but now that he’s a demon he feels like he should put himself on the front lines since he has a little better defenses than the average human. so training partners in general: someone who he can work with to build those sniper skills back up and maintain them, someone who’s willing to practice hand to hand combat with a demon (and remind him not to bite; he might’ve had to go a little savage out in the wild), someone who wants to help test the limits of his enhancement... anything

i’ll add more things as i think of them!! but this is what i’ve got in the meantime

#.ooc #intro!!! hi all

4 notes · View notes

toomuchdickfort · 3 years

Text

Let’s play a game called Aaaaaaaaa

#heads up I’m gonna be talkin about scrapes and also injuries Bc I’m freakin out a lil #a while back I was like ‘huh why are my bad scrape scabs always more yellow than my other scabs ever are?’ so i looked it up and most things #we’re like INFECTION but like hey hi hello that would hurt and also be red around it but apparently there’s a thing that just happens w #scrapes and some other things so it probably WASNT infection Bc it also would’ve hurt more probably I think than it did and the biggest prob #was where it was on my knuckle and that in moving my hand I kept breaking the scab. anyway last night it did a weird and the scab just.#didn’t seem to be there by bedtime? and idk why i didn’t knock that part of my hand on anything and also my brothers would’ve pointed out if #I’d bled and I was like um weird and frightening and I don’t wanna look at it but ok #anyway there’s another scab but farther into my hand now and it hurts again but idk if the hurt is just how both my brothers were GRIPPING #my hand to try and pull me to the car earlier and the both of them managed to grab just over that spot on my hand and anyway I can’t look at #my knuckle a ton Bc it’s a bad scrape like there’s an indent in my knuckle bad but an hour or so after getting hime it was still red and #tender around the area and long story short I feel like I’m overreacting? but I’m worried #but also I put a bandaid on my hand Bc looking at it makes me feel Bad and I don’t need to do the ‘staring into my mouth at a broken tooth/#hole in my gums for hours’ thing to myself again #anyway yeah I’ve got a call with my little brothers planned in about 5 minutes and I’ve been getting progressively more tired and. I’m #probably gonna try and keep the call as short as I can because I’m ~exhausted~ and haven’t done shit since I got home #didn’t even put up my backpack #it’s still on the couch

1 note · View note

angry-geese · 3 years

Note

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

#jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #goose answers #ask!#anon #gojo is just very breedable

835 notes · View notes

eepy-pleepy · 3 years

Text

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

430 notes · View notes

polarisbibliotheque · 3 years

Text

Dante & Vergil shamelessly flirting with their s/o (+Nero & Kyrie)

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader; Nero x Kyrie

Summary: In a random day, they just decide it's a pretty good time to flirt shamelessly and without restrictions with their beloved s/o (on Nero's case, with Kyrie)

Author's Notes: I was going for something a little more light hearted, but you can't really get light hearted with Vergil. The man has such a heavy past, I'm trying to get to something a bit more carefree with him. And I had to give Nero and Kyrie some love - I can only write him with her, do apologize.

Age Restrictions: There's some drinking, double meanings and insinuations here and there, you were warned ;)

Dante

Well, Dante could safely say both of you were exhausted after so many working hours.

You were working the same job, but in different parts of the city. It was more effective: you could handle things by yourself, and Dante could take on the most powerful demons without having to worry about you getting hurt around him. You did work together, but it wasn’t necessary all the time.

You were actually very glad Dante understood personal space and independence. It was one of the things you loved most about that devil.

After finishing that job, though, he called you – as Dante always did. He wanted to know how things went, how were you after all. Covered in blood? Yes. Tired? Most definitely. Hurt? Never.

Well, at least you were almost never hurt – it was a very rare occurring calling Dante in distress because you needed help.

“So, how do you feel about going out for a drink, babe?” He asked while leaning on the phone booth. Or at least, what was left of it. “We could use some time to unwind.”

“That’s the best idea you had in months, I gotta say.” Your answer made him chuckle a bit. “I’m just gonna pack things up and meet you there, ok? Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking about The Republic, what do you say?”

“I say you've got a marvelous taste.” And this time, Dante laughed at your remark, making you smile in return. “Meet you at The Republic then.”

“All right! I won’t leave you waitin’!”

But Dante actually left you waiting for a while. You were closer to The Republic than he was, so it was a short walk for you. It was tempting for him to go full sin devil trigger and just fly his way to the bar, but Dante enjoyed the human part of taking his time to walk.

He also needed to let the excess blood drip from his clothing to look a bit more presentable – although it was something the people at The Republic were used to when dealing with both of you.

“Hey there, Jones. I’ll have one of those Strawberry Martini’s for now, please.” You ordered as soon as you arrived, resting your elbows on the bar. Jones – a tall, bearded man who looked more dangerous than he actually was – smiled as he turned at you.

“Rough day today, y/n?” He nodded, indicating your clothing, as he started to prepare the strawberry mix for your drink.

“Nah, nothing I’m not used to.” You shrugged, smiling slightly. “You know the deal. Dante will probably get here covered in demon blood.”

“Yikes, I just hope he isn’t covered on that demon stench too.” Jones scrunched his nose, making you laugh a little bit. Yes, Dante could get horribly dirty after some jobs, depending on the demon species he was dealing with.

You could remember very well how foul he was when he had to kill a giant demon resembling a frog and decided to do that by tearing it up from the insides. You wanted to keep Dante soaked in a rose water bath for months.

“We’re two, then.” You leaned your head in your hand, taking your time to watch as Jones prepared your drink.

It was fine. Everything was fine, really. Life wasn’t necessarily calm, but it was much better than when you were alone. You had a family by your side – the whole Devil May Cry crew that Dante patched together – and you had someone to talk about your troubles. Someone you trusted deeply and that you knew was never going to hurt you.

Dante could be the scariest of demons when he triggered during a fight, but he was one of the kindest souls you had ever met – if not the kindest.

“Well, I can’t believe my own eyes!” You heard his voice right behind you, approaching with a tired but satisfied tone. “Seems like angels are falling from the sky tonight. Did you get hurt on your way down, pretty thing?”

As he leaned on the bar by your side, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. Dante had a goofy smile on his lips – but a beautiful one, nonetheless. He had those sky-blue eyes fixed on admiring you, reveling in your laugh.

“In a matter of fact, I did.” And you took your time to show him how your hands were battered after the job, something you didn’t quite expect, but wasn’t exactly bothered by it. You got bruised quite easily, it was part of your human condition. “Who would’ve known falling from the skies could be so troublesome?”

“Oh, I think I got the right remedy right here.” Dante’s smile got broader as Jones put your Martini right by one of your hands. “Hey, Jones! Can you get me…”

“A Bloody Mary?” As Jones asked, Dante confirmed immediately. You could never understand his love for tomato juice with alcohol and tabasco. And extra tabasco, even.

“Is that your remedy?” You raised one eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look. “I regret to tell you, in heaven we don’t get that hideous taste devil’s do. I’m probably gonna die drinking that thing.”

Dante let a good laugh mix around the noise of the music and conversations in the bar. Holding one of your hands, he kept smiling while playing with your fingers.

“Don’t worry, lil' angel. I also know how to deal with delicate creatures such as yourself.” As he spoke, he lifted your hand to his lips, winking at you.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as Dante started kissing your bruises. Every blood red patch of skin on your knuckles from punching demons without your usual protection got covered by kisses from his warm lips – not the softest in the world, but your favorites. You wouldn’t trade that for anything.

“Well. It looks like you can also be gentle, who would’ve known?” Your tone was low and caring, making Dante smile back at you as he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“I can be a lot of things when I’m not fightin’ demons.” He winked once again, grabbing his drink and thanking Jones as soon as the glass with the red liquid hit the table. “Especially for you, babe. You don’t even have to ask.”

He took a rebellious strand of your hair away from your face, playfully brushing his fingers in your cheek before taking a sip from his drink. Dante had something else in his eyes, a kind of fire he only had when openly flirting with you.

“Looks like someone is all seductive today.” You had to point it out. It wasn’t something too common – Dante was flirty in nature, but usually in a playful manner; more like banter from both of you, resulting in a few laughs and that was it. Full seduction, though? Dante kept it for more intimate moments or when he just wanted to shower you in love and compliments until you were a blushing mess. “Did you get bitten by a lust demon? Did you fight a succubus?”

Of course, you broke his flirtatious aura for a while with that comment – Dante couldn’t stop himself from giving a good laugh. He had to say, he loved your humor.

“No succubus on the menu today, love.” As soon as he spoke, though, his seducing demeanor was back, and Dante even got a little closer than before. Definitely in your personal space – but he was one of the very few people who could do that. “I just felt like admiring the gorgeous creature I’m so lucky to have around.”

His hand held yours again, his lips going back to your knuckles. Dante closed his eyes, trailing a little bit further in your wrists, slowly going upwards.

“My, my; are you going to get all dirty in the bar, now?” You had a chuckle in your voice, but it was obvious your heart was beating like a samba school during Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro. “Trying to get me to blush, love?”

“If only it was that easy.” He murmured back, lifting his eyes back at you, now using his fingers to play with yours. Dante got even closer, setting by your side at the bar, his shoulders touching yours. “But ya know I love it when ya blush for me, lil’ angel.”

You held his gaze, as you always did. But you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, making them burn as Dante’s smile got brighter in admiration. There it was.

“You’re a terrible demon.” You whispered back at him, faintly narrowing your eyes.

“I’m your terrible demon, though.” He chuckled back, still playing with your fingers. He lightly nudged you with his shoulders, still admiring your beautiful and so human blushing. “How was the job at your end?”

“Hmmm, nothing I couldn’t handle.” You shrugged, taking another sip from your Martini. “I forgot to bring my armor this time, hence the bruises.”

“Well, we’ll take care of that later.”

“How about you? Too easy?”

“Eh… I’d say easy to moderate.” He analyzed, allowing a pause to drink a little from his Bloody Mary. “Nothing like one of those really big jobs, but it was enough to get me a little tired after.”

“Hmmm, needing to catch on your breath then?” You raised one eyebrow, trying to conceal the smile that peaked in your voice.

But Dante could always read you like an open book, giving you a dirty smile as an answer.

“Not if I’ll be dealing with you later.” As he said so, his smile turned into a convinced one; his voice lowering its tone. “I bet you’ll be the one catching your breath, babe.”

You had to chuckle, feeling your cheeks burning again as you felt his own laugh next to your neck – not kissing you, but laughing alongside you, so close to your face. Indeed, Dante probably was the only one who could be so intimate with you – in public or in private. You didn’t care, you just wanted to be near him. And it was the very same for him as well.

The night was going to be long – you both could and would spend all the time you had just talking and shamelessly flirting in the bar until walking back home, arms entangled around each other. You could speak about anything and everything, just because it felt so right. Even if life wasn’t perfect for both of you, it was good enough now that you were together.

And during the whole night, you could feel Dante playing with your fingers. He’d never let go of your hand – and you’d never let go of his as well.

Vergil

Days-off were so rare for both of you that planning them was almost a formal event.

Vergil knew very well one couldn’t work all the time and learnt about the concept of burnout after his recent time living what he would deem a normal life – at least compared to what he had before. Maybe that’s what made him cast out his own humanity in order to survive: a burnout.

Humanity was so fragile. But he was learning to handle it – even like it, in some extent.

You were the type of humanity he liked – the type he enjoyed feeling. He was used to feeling helpless, lost, hurt, afraid and a whole myriad of dreadful feelings Vergil made sure to bury inside him so he wouldn’t be vulnerable.

But that vulnerability was part of being human and he couldn’t get rid of it: he could only trust the ones able to see that side of him wouldn’t hurt him. Vergil had been so terrified of being hurt, he allowed himself to become a monster; but he knew you’d never hurt him.

And it was the same way with you – not used to showing any vulnerabilities, it was a long road for both you and Vergil. A little difficult to walk on and most definitely challenging, but you had each other to lean on. And that was enough.

Vergil learnt that everyone needed breaks every now and then – and that it wasn’t unproductive or an indicative of weakness. He wasn’t less powerful for needing a little rest, he was human.

“We don’t have any jobs tomorrow.” Vergil approached you in his serious demeanor as you had just closed the book you were reading before going to sleep. “I was thinking we could go out and enjoy the city a little.”

“That sounds great. What do you have in mind?” You had a pleased smile on your lips. Vergil had come such a long way it made your heart warm.

“The museum is holding a Monet collection for limited time only. I thought we could enjoy the paintings and maybe later stop by that café, the Plaza Delight.” He watched as you carefully put away your book, always so kind with your reads. “What do you think?”

Your chest only grew warmer. Vergil knew Monet was your favorite painter and the Plaza Delight had your favorite desserts and beverages. He learnt to appreciate life with you and his preferences showed your influence, even if just a bit.

“I think you’re wonderful at planning our days-off.” You held his hand briefly, making a small smile color his lips. “Don’t forget to put some comfy clothes before coming to bed, ok? Sometimes you forget that.”

And indeed, Vergil forgot the basic of things on a daily basis. He was lucky to have you around to remember him how to be functional – as you were lucky to have him to help you out with feelings. You both understood lack of trust and living in survival mode; but you didn’t expect you’d be so good at providing a safe space of trust for each other.

Vergil watched as you walked among the paintings, so amazed and lost in thought. You had admiration gleaming in your eyes, unconsciously holding his hand every now and then to show him something – be it a fact from the painting, or a style used by the painter. Vergil always listened with the utmost attention, basking on the feeling of your warm fingers against his rough hand. It was soothing and grounding.

The admiration he had for you was endless. Vergil always thought words wouldn’t be enough to express it, but he had also learnt that, sometimes, humans needed to hear it – something his dear brother remarked once, while scolding Vergil for always seeming so cold and distant.

You looked too beautiful for him to ignore. You were much more than he probably deserved, and that moment was for the both of you. He could let loose a little bit.

“I love how the moon looks in this painting.” You murmured, maintaining your voice in a tone deserving of a museum. Vergil’s heart always got warmer with that – you understood the value and respect of places like those, just like him. “See how it glows in the water? He captured it perfectly.”

“Yet the moon seems so pale and insipid compared to your beauty.” As Vergil spoke you felt yourself coming to a halt. That most definitely wasn’t usual. You turned your eyes at him, forgetting all the paintings in the room. “Just like the fire seems to lose all its passion when I look in your eyes.”

“Did all this art bring out your poetic side, Verge?” You had to tease a little bit, a chuckle playing in your lips. “If it did, please don’t stop. I really enjoy when you speak like that.”

“Hmmm. For you, I could speak like this for an eternity.” He smiled back, placing one of his hands in your hips and guiding you to continue your tour. There were only a few works left and you suddenly wished it was just beginning.

“I should bring you to more art expos, then.” You took the chance to lean on him, resting your head in his chest as you admired the last painting. “My devilish poet.”

“I’m afraid you have a shallow knowledge of poems to know which ones are truly devilish.” As he spoke, you held back a smile that wanted to light up your lips. Vergil’s lips, though, had a convinced smile, sprinkled with double meaning. “If you wish, I can show you a few. But I must warn you: it’s a forbidden garden, with no way back.”

“Hmmm, are you afraid I might get tangled in the vines of lust?” Your flourished tease made him close his eyes, holding back a proud smile as you both left the museum. It was time to walk to the café; time itself completely forgot by you.

“Those are vines you might adore to get tangled on.” He always got over the moon with the fact you could keep up with his way of speaking. You could never disappoint him. Ever. “But I wonder if such a lovely creature would want to get tainted in such a garden. Such a gracious saint longing for the company of a devil.”

“I’m sure many poets would revel on the duality of such purity being loved by darkness.” You answered, entangling one of your arms around his waist. Vergil kept his hand on your hip – having someone touch him with such intimacy was so foreign, but it was so comforting. It was the kind of love he longed for such a long time.

It didn’t take you long, though, to get to the Plaza Delight. It looked like a forgotten café amidst a garden in a little plaza that you discovered once while coming back from a job. It became your favorite place ever since – alongside the decadent cakes and exotic brews of tea, something that was quick enough to arrive in porcelain dishes, ready to warm you up in that chilly evening.

“I am not that angelic, though.” You continued your conversation. “You are aware of it. There’s too much darkness inside for me to be considered a saint.”

“As you told me once, ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’. Sin must go a longway for me to consider it worthy of a demon. This is a name I believe you’ll never carry.” Vergil took a sip from his hot tea, carefully holding the porcelain cup with his long fingers. “You are too lovely to be tainted by Hell.”

You smiled back, a little sorrow in your lips. Vergil never told you what he had been through in Hell – just brushed over it so you could have a little context when he woke up screaming in horror in the middle of the night.

“And you are wonderfully resilient to be back – and even more impressively courageous to try tackling a human life now.” As you spoke, Vergil found admiration in your eyes. You truly believed your words – you truly believed in him. You had made it obvious a thousand times how much you believed he needed a second chance.

And Vergil was so lucky to have you extend him that opportunity.

“I can only do that because I have… Support.” He spoke slowly, still getting used to open up about his feelings. Vergil observed as you took a piece of cake to your mouth, leaving a little bit of chocolate in the corner of your lips. “The most tempting piece of support, I might say. One that can bring a devil to its knees.”

You felt a little shiver down your spine as his words complimented his gesture: Vergil’s hand carefully brushed the chocolate away from your face, his touch always so confident but delicate around you.

He didn’t wipe it clean though – without moving his eyes from you, Vergil licked the chocolate from his fingers. His silver gaze was molten, in a fire you recognized from the intimate times he decided to shamelessly flirt with you. Those were rare occurrences, but oh, did you love them.

“I’d argue it depends on the devil.” You smiled back, allowing yourself to play his game. Vergil’s heart couldn’t be more satisfied to see you getting into that little time of playful seduction. “It takes sorrow to recognize sorrow. The legendary Dark Slayer is a difficult one to crack but is his heart wonderfully passionate after you do so.”

“Hmmm. All this passion is reserved to you.” He had a loving look in his silver eyes that you came to get used to; such out of character, but, at the same time, so fitting for someone with such a deep sea of emotions like him. Vergil planted a delicate kiss on one of your hands before speaking again, without ever letting go of your fingers. “Bring me your pain, love. Spread it out like fine rugs… Show me the detail, the intricate embroidery on the collar, tiny shell buttons, the hem stitched the way you were taught, pricking just a thread, almost invisible. Unclasp it like jewels, the gold still hot from your body. Empty your basket of figs. Spill your wine.*”

And, once more, he kissed your fingers – this time, lingering a little more than he should.

“I can read you the rest when we get home.” He muttered, lips still grazing your skin.

“And I will always love to listen.”

In between classic paintings and devilish poems, you would argue Vergil could always plan your days-off.

*Basket of Figs, by Ellen Bass

Nero

If there was one thing Nero enjoyed in his life, that was watching Kyrie.

He could always put her at the top of his lists – whatever the list. Since they were kids, he liked watching how kind she was towards everyone, how pure and human in a world that – as they grew up – Nero couldn’t see that much beauty.

Kyrie was the kind of beauty that made life worth it.

She had always treated him with care, and he remembered how he used to act like a fool around her – though Nico would make a point he always acted like a fool when Kyrie was present, no matter the situation.

Nero could try and try to be cool and sassy, but he’d get immediately disarmed by Kyrie. Could be her voice, her scent, her touch or her face, Nero would stop everything and become the kindest of humans around her.

That had always made Kyrie smile. She didn’t know anyone as human as him, and she’d stand by that until the day she died. Nero was full of passion, and he could let it out as anger or as love – wasn’t that being human?

She couldn’t see her brother slowly losing his humanity for a cult they grew up in, but she had always been able to see Nero’s heart. He wanted to be strong in order to be respected – and also, to protect those he loved.

It was the first time Nero had a family who accepted him exactly the way he was – and he’d do anything to hold on to that.

He wanted to give a kind of love to the kids at the orphanage he never had back when he lived there, but Nero couldn’t lie: he also enjoyed a little bit too much the quietness of the weekends – it was just him and Kyrie at home.

No kids, no Nico, no Dante, no stoic ominous Vergil, no demons. Just him and the woman he loved most, having breakfast together.

The only song to be heard in that morning as he left their room, was the one falling from Kyrie’s lips as a sweet veil of rain on a golden summer day. Nero stopped by the living room door, leaning on it just to watch her: she was wearing only his old white t-shirt, almond-fiery hair tangled in a rushed bun secured by a paint brush. Kyrie’s delicate hands cut a few pears in a slow morning pace, as her rosy lips singed so absentmindedly. Around her neck, she had the gold and salmon necklace he gave her so many years ago.

Nero smiled with a tiny sigh. He wouldn’t miss the chance – he’d be a fool if he did.

“Has anyone ever said you’re the most beautiful angel to step on Earth?” His voice was soft, catching Kyrie by surprise as he held her from behind. There was no escape from his arms now: she’d be tangled in his embrace for as long as she wanted to. Nero placed a kiss under her ear, as Kyrie only laughed and blushed involuntarily. “Because you are. I don’t think even angels are as wonderful as you.”

“Well, well, look at you. All sleepy and speaking nonsense.” She chuckled back trying to avoid his face. Kyrie wanted to focus on that breakfast, or they wouldn’t eat anything – making Nero rest his head on her shoulder and watch as her hands worked so delicately. “Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, it’s always good with you around…” He muttered, almost unconscious of his own words. He didn’t seem to notice how they affected Kyrie, how much her heart felt warm with that. “But you know, I was kinda bummed when I woke up. You see, instead of this beautiful angel, I was huggin’ a lame pillow.”

“Just like when you were a kid.” Kyrie laughed as Nero blushed, almost hiding his face on her shoulder. It had been quite a long time he wasn’t a kid anymore, but there he was. Hugging pillows like a six-year-old. “I always thought it was so cute. Whenever I’d wake you up in the morning, you were hugging your pillow. Even when we were teens.”

“Well, maybe it was because I wanted to hug someone else, who knows.” He said quietly, making Kyrie bite her lips not to let out a smile. They always had something between them, but none had admitted out loud. It was a sort of understanding they had.

“You know… When I was really sad back in Fortuna…” Kyrie started telling him slowly, in an almost whispered tone wrapped with her cheeks getting more saturated as she spoke. It was that little shy demeanor that made Nero throw everything to the air and care for her and her only. Demons? Dante could handle them. Nico’s hazardous driving? Vergil was a pain in the ass, but could he deal with authorities. Kyrie was Nero’s top priority. Always. “I used to hug one of my pillows before going to sleep… And I liked imagining… It was you, comforting me. And hugging me back.”

Nero felt as if his whole world turned upside down and inside out in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds in a matter of seconds, with air being punched out of his lungs and his heart racing like a Formula 1 car. He was back probably before than the speed of sound that took so long to make him feel like a cow spinning in a tornado, holding Kyrie against him a little tighter.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” Nero’s words were almost whispered in her ears, so close to her skin. Kyrie was already a blushing mess, trying to hide her face from her boyfriend – even though she was smiling.

Kyrie was afraid she would have a fit of giggles out of nervousness from finally telling him that.

“I would’ve hugged you as much as you wanted. I would’ve comforted you for the whole night if I had to. I was right in the next room; you could’ve called me any time. I’d be there.” It was in those moments Nero’s humanity showed so perfectly. Just like he didn’t hold himself back when he was enraged, he didn’t hold back when he was head over heels.

Kyrie was too important for Nero not to show how much he cared about her.

“I can imagine Credo would have been so accepting if he saw us together.” She answered amidst giggles, making Nero chuckle a little while trying to find her face. It was always a playful thing between them: making Kyrie look at Nero when she was so lovely embarrassed. “He probably would have locked you in the Order’s Headquarters for ‘intensive training’ and given me a lecture on the ‘ways of the angels.”

“As if you’d ever need that!” Nero dismissed with a quick laughter, still smiling while trying to find her eyes. Kyrie kept running from him tough, but never letting go of his embrace. After such a long time, the memory of Credo stopped hurting. It was a bittersweet part of their lives they wanted to celebrate, not mourn forever. “I would’ve teared down every single brick from that horrible building to get back to you. And if any of those clowns tried to hold me down, I’d show 'em a thing or two about fightin’.”

“Oh, that would be a sight to see! You, running down the streets of Fortuna, screaming ‘Kyrie, my beloved, I’m coming for you!’ with the whole Order chasing after you, and Credo probably complaining how you’d have to pay for that with your own work!”

Both of them had to laugh over that. It was such an absurd scene – but it wasn’t improbable. What made it even funnier was the fact that it was an accurate description of how all of them would behave.

“But I would, you know…” Nero sighed, finally stopping his laughing fit. He rested his head on her shoulder again, taking in her faint and warm scent – one he loved so much. “I would run down the streets, I would fight anything in my way, I would leave everything behind for you.”

Kyrie finally turned her head slightly, meeting Nero’s aquamarine eyes. She loved how they reminded her of the sea by her former home.

“You already did.” She whispered back; her floating words in that beautiful morning making both blush with the realization that Nero had already even fought gods for her.

“Ya know…” And Nero quickly spun her around, making Kyrie face him, her hips barely leaning on the kitchen counter. She laughed as he helped her not to fall from the sudden spin. “Ya keep saying those things, I’m gonna get all mushy. I mean, such a wonderful angel telling me that, I might get sloppy on my demon killin’.”

“It’s not in you to get sloppy, silly.” Kyrie playfully slapped Nero’s chest, almost blushing in the process. All the time in the world by his side could go by, she would never stop thinking he was hot and blush about it. “Now I should get back to breakfast, or none of us is going to eat this morning.”

“Well, we don’t have to.” Nero shrugged, making her raise one eyebrow. Kyrie almost cursed herself for looking so inquisitive, because the devilish smile that colored his lips right after was enough of an answer. “I can think of something in my arms a lot sweeter than pears for breakfast.”

“Oh, my…” And she didn’t know where to put her face, settling with lowering her head in pure embarrassed dread and bury it on Nero’s chest. There were a lot of times in her life she thought that, but right at that moment, she never felt her face burning so hot as it was.

Nero couldn’t stop smiling, holding her even with more care. She was adorable. Such a ray of sunshine to keep a light in the darkness he had inside him. He probably didn’t deserve an angel like her by his side, but what could he do if an angel had fallen for a demon? He could only praise and adore her as he always did – and would for the rest of his life.

She was so precious he wanted to keep her in a jewelry box, like a little fairy. Kyrie could bless and paint the world with all her colors and when she got home, she’d always have the safest place of the world to sleep in, guarded by her devilish lover.

“Ei.” Nero called and Kyrie sighed in defeat, lifting her head slowly. She didn’t know what to do with herself, but he always knew how to handle that. As soon as her eyes met his aquamarine gaze, Nero smeared her lips with some honey Kyrie had at hand for breakfast. “Will you give me a kiss, honey lips?”

A smile gradually lit up her face just like the golden rays of sunshine in that morning as Kyrie locked her arms around Nero’s neck.

“Always, my knight in shiny armor.”

Their lips found each other in a kiss glazed by golden honey and giggles. No matter how many times Nero tried to make Kyrie blush with his shameless flirting, she’d always make him blush twice as red with her loving words.

#dante x reader #vergil x reader #nero x kyrie #dante imagine #vergil imagine #nero imagine #kyrie imagine #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc imagines #dmc fanfic #devil may cry #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nero sparda #nerokiri #I tried my best to be cute #Nero and Kyrie are so sugary tho

426 notes · View notes

jakesavocado · 3 years

Text

Who Would Have Guessed? || P.SH

Pairing: Sunghoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (Unprotected Sex)

Words: 1.48k

Warnings: 18+ content, read at your own discretion

Synopsis: Your brother's best friend comes over for some video games, only to end up spending the night with you.

﹅﹅★

“Y/n! Can you get the door? It’s probably Sunghoon,” your brother Heeseung shouted from the bathroom. Groaning in annoyance, you got up off your bed and quickly stomped to the door, pulling it open to reveal your brother’s best friend. He smiled at you, brushing past your shoulder without a word. You watched the way he sauntered up the stairs, most likely entering Heeseung’s room for another night full of video games. Rolling your eyes, you went back to your room, getting back to the book you had been reading.

Hours passed, but the boys’ yelling didn’t cease. You wondered why your parents didn’t tell them to keep it down. But then you remembered, if they were home, Sunghoon wouldn’t have been here in the first place. Having enough of their chaos, you huffed and walked over to your brother’s door. As usual, it was locked. You pounded on the door with your fist, not stopping until you heard the lock click on the other side. Instead of Heeseung, Sunghoon poked his head around from behind it, giving you that same, kind but forced smile.

“Can you guys be quiet? I’m trying to sleep.”

Sunghoon’s smile widened. It only looked more insincere. “Sure thing. We’ll try our best.” He didn’t wait for a reply, slamming the door shut on your face. Scoffing, you turned around and returned to your room, trying your best to fall asleep before their chaotic shouts reached your ears again.

Spoiler alert; it didn’t work. You stared at the ceiling, completely exhausted. It was almost 4 in the morning and though your body was tired, you couldn’t seem to get any rest. There was no noise coming from your brother’s room, a sign that the two boys had put their games away and most likely gone to sleep.

Unsure of what to do, you left your bed and ventured downstairs, in dire need of a glass of water. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, mind too fatigued to worry about anything spooky. As you sipped your water, you heard a creak near the stairs. Whipping your head towards the sound, your eyes widened when you saw a tall figure standing in the shadows. “Heeseung?” you called, setting the glass down on the counter. The lights flickered on, revealing the silhouette’s identity. “It’s me,” Sunghoon said, walking into the kitchen. He saw your half-empty glass and picked it up, downing the water inside it, all in one gulp. “You could’ve gotten your own glass you know,” you said, unamused. Sunghoon tsked. “You were done with it anyways.” Scoffing in disbelief, you crossed your arms over your chest. “No I wasn’t. I just put it down cause I saw you creeping around in the dark.” Sunghoon grinned. “I wasn’t creeping around. I just couldn’t sleep.”

He kept his eyes fixed on yours, poised expression not faltering even in the slightest. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird,” you said, in an attempt to disturb the unsettling silence that fell over the room. “Don’t flatter yourself y/n,” he said, licking his lips while running a hand through his hair.

“Why are you even awake,” he asked? Why was he trying to keep up a conversation with you? Never once in his five years of knowing Heeseung, had he ever spoken to you for so long. You were breaking records tonight. “I’m awake because you and Heeseung were being too damn loud,” you shared, still quite bitter that you were missing out on some much-needed sleep.

Sunghoon laughed apologetically. “Sorry about that. We were having a tense match.” You didn’t care how serious their match was. It was no reason for you to lose sleep over. How very inconsiderate of them both, especially Sunghoon. He seemed to read your mind, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

You weren’t expecting him to ask you that, but now that he had, you didn’t know what to say. You shrugged. “How about you put me to sleep?” It was a sarcastic remark, but you noticed the way Sunghoon seemed to consider it. Somehow, you went from standing at the kitchen counter to being tucked under the covers of your bed together.

Sunghoon made sure to keep a fine gap between you. This was new for both of you.

“I can’t believe you’re in my room right now,” you said, thinking out loud. He smiled. “Me neither.”

You sat up, turning towards him. “How come we’re actually getting along? I mean, I always thought you were a douche like Heeseung, but honestly, you’re not that bad.”

Sunghoon surely hadn’t expected to be perceived that way. He shrugged. “I guess it’s just my charming personality that really draws you Lee’s in.”

You threw your pillow his way, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous comment. “You’re delusional.”

Sunghoon caught the pillow and tossed it back at you. Yelping, you threw it back at him, this time more forcefully, and took another pillow in your hands to defend yourself. Sunghoon chuckled and got on his knees, raising the pillow above his head. “Are we seriously having a pillow fight,” he asked dubiously? You shrugged and hit him with your pillow. “I guess we are.”

He managed to dodge your next attack, lunging forward to slam his pillow on your head. You fell on your back, holding your pillow above your face protectively. Sunghoon whacked it out of your hands, toppling over and falling flat on top of you. He froze, as did you. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest, breath hitching when he pushed himself up hovering over you. His eyes locked with yours, shining in the dark. You had no idea why you were having such a hard time looking away from him. Sunghoon’s eyes wavered from your eyes to your lips. Without so much as a second thought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. You found yourself closing your eyes and kissing him back. Sunghoon grabbed your waist, moving his lips against yours passionately. The kiss escalated quickly, with you tugging at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. Sunghoon sat up, pulling you with him and made you sit on his lap. He threw his shirt to the side, doing the same with yours. His lips were back on yours in a matter of seconds, fingers reaching behind your back to unhook your bra. He didn’t bother pulling it off, choosing to leave it be. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, playing with the hair on the back of his head. Sunghoon hummed as you rolled your hips over his. You could feel him starting to harden up underneath you. The sensation made wetness pool in your panties.

“Is the door locked,” he asked, pulling away from your lips for a moment? You glanced behind your shoulder. “I don’t think it is but what’s there to worry about? Heeseung sleeps like he’s dead anyway.”

Sunghoon laughed and kissed your shoulder, going down till the valley of your breasts. Your head fell back, lips parting in awe. Sunghoon groaned against your skin. He was going to cum in his pants if you kept grinding on him like that. So, he made you sit up, tugging your shorts down your legs. He pulled his own pants down, throbbing member slapping up proudly. You took it in your hands, angling his tip at your entrance. Sunghoon held your waist, biting his lip as you sunk down on his cock. He was bit, stretching you out incredibly. Sunghoon guided your hips over his cock, lips finding yours again. You moaned into his mouth, clinging onto him desperately. “Hmm you feel so good,” he praised, squeezing your thighs. You cursed and pulled his body close, nails digging into his shoulders. Sunghoon ran his tongue over your collar bone, sucking on it softly. You mewled and kept bouncing over his cock, feeling a knot begin to form in your stomach. “Are you close,” he asked, feeling the way your walls clenched around his cock? You nodded frantically, not able to form the words to say it. “Me too,” he said, starting to buck his hips up into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warned a while later, toes curling in bliss. Sunghoon grunted, pulling your hips down on his one last time before his cum spurt out into your walls. You moaned, feeling your orgasm hit as a result. Sunghoon dragged your hips over his, riding out your high.

You smiled giddily, placing a small kiss on his lips. Sunghoon returned your smile, not wanting to let go of you. “This was nice,” you spoke, biting back a grin. Sunghoon agreed. “Your brother’s gonna kill me.”

- ♡ -

requested by anon

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #kpop smut

634 notes · View notes

allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

Text

be still my foolish heart (don’t ruin this on me)

Summary: bucky barnes doesn’t have very many people left in his life who care, but he has you... or; five times you and bucky show your love & the one time you finally say it. (bucky x fem!reader)

Words: 4.3K

Warnings: fluff & pining. no major spoilers of tfatws.

Notes: hi! i was going to try and maintain separate accounts to keep my writing organized, but i am lazy and can’t switch back and forth all the time. so! here’s to me now being a multific blog! i hope this does not upset my current followers (and maybe brings some new ones in) this was originally posted my ao3 . happy reading!

You’re the only person who calls him James. It fluctuates between Buck and James, but either way, you’re the only person allowed to call him either.

He thinks his name just sounds so pretty coming from your mouth. He doesn’t want to hear anything else. Doesn’t really want you to call him Bucky because then it won’t sound right when anybody else does.

So you’re the only person that calls him James. The only person he lets call him James.

“James.” You say softly as he falls onto your couch. He’s got a black eye and a busted lip and he knows there’s nothing he can say to quell your worry. So he settles with a smile that causes a wince that makes you let out a breathless laugh. “I told you to be more careful.”

You sit on your coffee table across from him and lean forward with the washcloth in your hand. His eyes fall to his lap and he nods. “You should see the other guy.”

You shake your head tensely as you gently wipe at the dried blood carefully to avoid the bruise still forming. “James. I’m serious. You’re not invincible.” He raises an eyebrow and you sigh. “You may be a super soldier, but you can still get hurt. I hate seeing you hurt.”

You lean back and drop the cloth onto the table next to you. “I know, doll.” You shake your head at the nickname and he smiles. You had told him you thought it was corny, but as long as you called him James, he would call you doll.

And he knew you secretly liked the nickname.

The same way you knew he secretly liked to hear his name when you said it.

“I have some vaseline in the bathroom. We can put it on your lip and then you need to get some sleep.” You pull him by his hand down your hall.

He glances out the window of your bedroom before you pull him into the bathroom. “I don’t need to sleep, the sun is still out.” He says quietly as you search through your cabinet.

You look up sharply. “You need sleep. I’ll be right here, okay?” You stand up straight and lift some vaseline with a q-tip. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Your eyes focus in as you gently apply the vaseline to Bucky’s lip.

He has to force himself not to smile. The cut will be gone by tomorrow and this will have been all for naught as it won’t affect how it heals. He appreciates the comfort it gives him. He relishes in the warmth that came with your care and love for your friends.

You step away with a proud smile. “I think I’m supposed to do the protecting, doll.” He says quietly. He desperately wants to reach his hands out and settle them on your waist.

Feel the warmth through your worn out sweatshirt and pull you close. But he doesn’t, afraid of something but unsure of what exactly, so he smiles graciously.

“We protect each other, James. In different ways.” You say just as quietly.

It’s all Bucky needs to get a couple comfortable hours of sleep in your room.

II.

He calls you every night. Or at least he tries to when he’s not in DC. Sometimes they’re so busy he doesn’t get the chance.

Tonight was one of those nights. He stares desperately down at his phone, urging the time to change so it was earlier in the night. He couldn’t call now. Not in the middle of the night when he knew you were asleep.

“You gonna go to bed?” Sam asks quietly from his spot in the living room. He’s been sitting silently with Bucky since they returned to the hotel, but Bucky could tell he was exhausted.

Bucky nods. “I’ll sleep out here.” He says quietly and unwilling to claim a bed. He couldn’t sleep in one for a full night, he could barely nap in yours when you forced him to rest.

Sam frowns and they both know he understands Bucky’s fear of the too big and too soft bed sitting empty in the other room. But the man nods before disappearing into his room and shutting the door behind him.

Bucky rests his head against the back of the couch and begins to take deep breaths. His phone vibrates in his hand and his eyes widen when he sees your name flash across the screen.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Doll? What’s got you up so late?”

You laugh quietly. “Just knew you needed me.” You say after a moment of silence. “We’ve got that telepathy. I know things.”

Bucky laughs softly. “Yeah? You just knew?” He finds himself believing your words, even though he knows the more likely scenario is that you couldn’t sleep either.

You sigh into the phone and Bucky shuts his eyes again. “Sam texted me, but I was already awake. I switched shifts with the night nurse today, so I’ll be awake all night.”

“You know you don’t have to call when you’re at work.” Bucky says quietly. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

You laugh. “I have a few minutes to myself while the other nurse mans the station. Most of the kids are asleep, so I can spare some time for you. Especially when you need me.”

Bucky nods for a second before realizing you wouldn’t be able to see it. “Thank you.”

“What’s wrong, James?” You ask in a whisper. He listens for a moment as you take a sip of something, probably your water, before deciding to answer.

“This is longer than I thought I’d be gone…” He trails off. Him and Sam were originally only supposed to be in New York for a few days, a week tops, but this mission had dragged on and it had already been almost two weeks. “I…” He trails off.

He missed home. Something he’d never thought he’d think of DC as. Brooklyn had been his home and he was only a bridge away. Brooklyn had been his home. Steve. Wakanda for a short period of time.

But Steve was gone. And he was no longer recovering under the Wakandans graceful care. Brooklyn was a distant memory and DC… Well DC had you. And at some point you had become home for him.

“I know.” You say quietly, like you understand his silence. You do, he supposes. You understand almost every part of him. You understand that he missed you and home , but that he still struggles to admit his feelings. “I miss you too, James.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, but he doesn’t really have a chance to. He hears a siren in the background then you rush out, “Shit. I have to go!” Then all that’s there is a dial tone. Bucky smiles though. You’re off to be a different kind of hero.

He sits in silence and lets your words wash over him. It was new having all these people who cared about him. Decades all alone and treated as a weapon made learning to let people in again a new kind of difficult.

But it didn’t feel as hard with you there to help, he thinks

III.

He has to force himself to keep his eyes open. His nightmares had been particularly awful this week, and now he was sitting beside your heavily asleep body.

He was stuck staring at the repeating trailer on the netflix screen. Logically, he knows he could close his eyes and rest his head against yours on his shoulder.

But he was terrified a nightmare would take over and he would wake you up with a jolt, or worse hurt you if it was particularly awful.

So, he forces himself to stay awake and watches the movie trailer again. He thinks you would like the movie.

“Buck.” You mutter tiredly. His eyes snap to you and he finds your eyes open and staring up at him. “Aren’t you tired?”

He shakes his head gently, careful to not move you. You narrow your eyes and slowly sit up. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You can stay here tonight.”

Bucky hesitates as you stand. He watches as you stretch your entire body and has to force his eyes to his lap when your shirt rides up and your stomach shows.

He had never spent the night at your place. He had spent all day. Even napped at your place often when he came over in the afternoon and you forced him to rest.

He always left before you went to sleep though. So he could suffer through his dreams on his own. So he didn’t drag you down.

You look down at him with soft eyes. “Grab some water. I’ll be in my room, okay?”

“I can go home. I don’t want to intrude.” He answers. Bucky looks out your window and sees just how dark and dead the streets outside were. It wasn’t like he had anything to worry about walking home.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish. “It’s late and you’re tired, I don’t want you getting hurt. Stay here.” The words are quiet but hold a fierceness that Bucky knows not to argue against.

He nods. “I’m gonna grab some water then.” The nerves coiling around his stomach is almost worth it when your face lights up and you nod excitedly.

The two of you split up in the hall. You moving towards your bedroom and him into the kitchen. After pouring a glass of water, he stands still for a moment and just studies the room.

Your counter is crowded. Different appliances pushed against the wall, ready to be pulled out and plugged in whenever you wanted. A utensil holder stuffed to the brim with spoons and spatulas that seemed to keep appearing. Mail piling up on the counter. A scrub top draped over the back of one of your barstools.

Your kitchen was crowded, but lived in and so very you that Bucky loved it. He loved you, he thinks almost hesitantly.

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind when you call his name out. He knew he cared about you deeply and he loved you as a friend but this feeling in his chest and the speed of his heartbeat makes him think maybe he’s started to feel more. Or maybe he always has.

He doesn’t want to ruin this though. So he pushes the thought away and makes his way towards your room. “I can sleep on the…” His words die on his tongue when he sees the small set up of blankets and pillows beside your bed.

You’re watching him nervously as you try to gauge his reaction. Bucky is stuck standing in stunned silence as he looks it over.

You’ve pulled out a thin duvet and placed it on the ground with extra pillows and blankets for him to lay on. “I remember Sam mentioning soldiers have a tough time sleeping through the night in a bed. Obviously you can sleep in the bed if you want but I just figured that…” You trail off and gesture towards the makeshift bed with a small flourish.

“This is…” He trails off. The warmth in his chest grows with each passing second and his heart races. “Thank you. This is perfect.”

A smile spreads across your face. “Good. Good. I was… I’m glad. And I’m right here if you need me. To protect you.” You say with a teasing glance as you crawl into the bed.

You lay on the side closest to where you’ve set up the floor for him. He laughs softly before moving towards his own space.

He’s still nervous to sleep in the same room. Still feels a little self conscious as he lays his head on the pillow and pulls the light blanket over him. But you don’t seem to really mind his presence as you make yourself comfortable above him.

He takes a deep breath. He definitely loved you.

And things like this gave him hope that you did, or maybe could, love him too.

Later that night he jolts awake with heavy breaths and you look down at him with worried eyes. He shakes his head when you open your mouth not wanting to talk about the dream.

It’s the same thing every time. People that he hurt who didn’t deserve it. The pain of his memories being erased. And he doesn’t want to weigh you down with his trauma anymore than he already has.

You watch him for a moment before nodding silently. Bucky thinks that’s the end of it but he’s shocked when your hand falls off the side of the bed palm open.

He glances up at you and you smile gently but say nothing. He reaches his right hand up and interlocks his fingers with yours.

It’s a little awkward and his arm tenses after a few minutes but it’s far too comforting for him to want to let go. Your hand tightens in his and Bucky finds it easier to fall asleep his hand intertwined with yours.

IV.

Bucky felt awkward in the hospital. He felt too hard and intimidating to be standing in the center of the pediatric ward waiting for you in your teddy bear scrub top and white bottoms.

“Excuse me?” He glances down when he feels a tug on his hand. There’s a young boy standing in front of him with wide eyes. “You’re friends with Captain America?”

Bucky hesitates for a moment before answering. “Yes.” He settles on saying as gently as he can.

He glances around in search of you. He had texted you when he arrived at the hospital and you had responded with a thumbs up, but he was assuming you had gotten busy in the time in between.

The boy squeals excitedly. “Is he here too? Can I meet him?”

Bucky shakes his head softly and kneels to be at eye level with the boy. “He’s home with his family.” When his eyes begin to water and his lip pouts, Bucky begins to panic. “But! I’m sure he’d love to visit soon! I can bring him! What’s your name?”

“Riley!” He looks up at the sound of your voice. A large smile spreads across your face at the sight of Bucky kneeling before the kid. You say something to the nurse beside you before rushing down the hall towards them.

“Riley.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be in bed.” You look down with imploring eyes and the young boy looks away with an embarrassed smile.

“But! It’s Bucky! He’s Captain America’s sidekick.” Bucky’s mouth falls open in shock at the boy's statement.

“Sidekick?” Bucky asks in an offended tone. “Well-“ He cuts himself off when you look at him with exasperated eyes.

“And he said he would bring Captain America in! To meet me!” The boy's excitement obviously leaves him ignorant of Bucky's offense at being called a sidekick.

“And I’m sure he will. But right now you should be in bed.” You say sternly. The boy nods dejectedly and allows you to lead him back into his room.

When you come back out a large smile spreads across your face at the sight of Bucky standing and wiping his hand against his pants.

He can’t help but reciprocate the same large smile. He drops the bag in his hand on the counter beside him and opens his arms as you slam into him with your arms around his waist.

“Thank you so much! I thought my night was ruined!” You pull away but don’t let go as you smile up at him. “We can eat in the cafeteria.”

You grab the bag before he gets the chance to. You turn to the nurse that was sitting and going through charts next to you and with a big grin say, “Page me if you need me, I’ll be in the cafeteria!”

The woman nods with a soft laugh before looking down at the computer. You take Bucky’s hand in yours and begin to pull him towards the elevator.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I know hospitals aren’t your thing.” You say quietly as the two of you step in. You lean away and press the two button.

Bucky thinks for a moment that you’re going to let go of his hand now that you’re not leading him anywhere but you don’t. Bucky smiles at the thought of this becoming a normal occurrence.

Your hand just felt right in his.

“Anything for you, doll.” He says quietly. He glances at you quickly before looking back at the descending numbers. “You’re my best girl.”

You nudge him with your shoulder as you laugh quietly. “That sounds like a line right out of the forties.”

Heat rises to Bucky’s cheeks but he laughs along. “You can take the man out of the forties but you can't take the forties out of the man.”

The two of you look at each other before you both burst out laughing. When the elevator stops on your designated floor you pull him out with you.

“As long as I get to be on the end of all that forties charm, I don’t mind a bit.” You lean into his side and smile brightly.

Bucky looks away as his cheeks turn an even brighter red. You giggle quietly when he looks back down at you. “Yeah. It’s always you at the end of it.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment before you pull him into a crowded cafeteria. “Let’s eat before I’m paged back to my floor.”

Bucky had grown more comfortable around you the longer you knew each other, but he still struggled to be fully comfortable with his arm.

It was a different arm, Steve had said once what felt like forever ago. He had rationalized with Bucky. His other arm had been attached to him and forced on him as a weapon. This arm had been made for him with peace in mind. It was untarnished. Mostly.

But a different arm didn’t change much for him. He had still caused so much pain with it. Was it really that different at all? His arm had always and will always be looked at as a weapon.

So he still wore long sleeves and a glove most of the time. Rarely let you see his biggest shame. You usually didn’t push. Sat on his right side. Held his right hand. You rarely said anything about it, it was almost like it didn't exist.

But, curiosity won out sometimes.

“Why won’t you let me see your arm?” You ask quietly one night. He’s sitting on one of your bar stools as you mix a pasta sauce in front of him.

It had been silent most of the night. You insisted on cooking your famous (at least that’s what you called it) pasta dish after not seeing him for a few days as a welcome home.

Bucky looks up at you with shocked eyes. You had never mentioned wanting to see his arm. He had assumed you didn’t want to.

“I… I don’t know.” He says quietly. He taps his fingers, his flesh fingers, against the counter top nervously. You watch him with hopeful eyes waiting for a real answer to the question. “I guess it’s easy to pretend it’s not there when someone’s never really seen it.”

“Hm.” You mumble in response. You step away from the stovetop and move towards him. “Why would you want to pretend it doesn’t exist? It’s a part of you.”

Bucky looks down at the gloved hand in his lap. “Doll… It’s not… It’s an ugly part of me. Dark and violent. And when I’m with you I get to pretend I’m not that.”

You come to stand in front of him. “There are no ugly parts of you. There’s you. There’s dark and there’s hurt and traumatized parts, but no part of you is ugly. Because on the other end of those there’s bright and happy and healing. Growth. James Buchanan Barnes, I can’t emphasize how beautiful I think you are.”

You raise your hand to rest it against his cheek and force him to look up at you. He shuts his eyes and leans into it. “And I’d really like to see your arm. To know that part of you too, but I won’t make you show me. I want you to show me on your own time.”

Bucky lets himself relish in the softness of your hand against his cheek before leaning away. “Okay…” He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

He begins to shrug out of his jacket when your hand comes to rest on his right shoulder. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I need you to know that.” You say quietly.

Bucky gives you a small smile. “I know… Doll, you’re the person I trust most in the world. I want you to know me. All of me.”

You smile down at him and take a step back to give him space. Bucky shrugs the jacket off quickly before he can second guess himself. The glove comes off next and Bucky feels strangely naked as your eyes trace over him.

“Buck…” You trail off. Your hand comes up before pausing. You look up at him with questioning eyes and he nods. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and you raise his sleeve up a tiny bit to look at the scars that litter his shoulder.

Bucky rarely looked at the scars there. Decades of the arm built by HYDRA had destroyed so much of his skin it had taken forever for Shuri to properly fix and build his new arm.

Your hand moves from his shoulder to the metal arm and your fingers trace over the plates and move through the lines of gold. You move your hand in silence. Slowly taking in the creation.

“This is beautiful.” You finally say quietly as your hand meets his. You interlock his metal fingers in yours and he pulls you closer. You look down at him with a sincere smile. “How could you ever think this is anything but beautiful?” You ask quietly.

Your other hand comes to rest on his cheek again. Bucky looks up at you and sees a flurry of emotions flicker in your eyes.

Part of him wants to pull you down and kiss you senseless. Show you how much he appreciates your never ending warmth.

But he can’t bring himself to ruin the moment. Finds that he doesn’t really want to. He enjoys being here intertwined with you.

And I.

He doesn’t hide his arm from you anymore. Finds himself shedding his jacket and gloves the second he’s inside your apartment.

You don’t really say anything, but he’s noticed the smile on your face whenever you notice him in his short sleeve shirt. He thinks one day he’ll be ready to go out without gloves on. He’ll wear short sleeves out in the summer instead of covering up with the jacket.

But now with you, it feels like progress enough.

You sit on his left most of the time now, like tonight, and hold his metal hand in yours like it’s flesh. It had taken some getting used to. He had flinched away the first time you’d done it, but now it felt almost like habit.

You didn’t seem to think leaning against his metal arm was uncomfortable at all. Never showed signs of discomfort when your head rested against his shoulder.

“I love you.” You say quietly. So quietly Bucky almost doesn’t hear it. He freezes for a moment before swallowing and nodding. He assumes you mean the words as a friend, he had heard you say them to Sam and your other friends from work.

“Me too.” He says just as quietly. He’s sure if he says the actual words you’ll see just how much he means them. How terribly in love with you he is.

But that doesn’t seem good enough because you sit up and place a gentle hand on his cheek that forces him to look you in the eyes.

“James, I love you.” You say the words with so much passion that Bucky knows without hesitation that you mean you’re in love with him. That you loved him as more than a friend.

Tears gather in his eyes as he nods. “I love you too, doll.” He laughs wetly as a smile spreads across your face. “God. I love you so fucking much it’s scary.”

You laugh too. “Good. I was so fucking scared. Buck, you’re my best friend. I… I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Bucky’s hand moves from his lap to your cheek before landing behind your neck. He pulls you in and when he kisses you and you kiss back he thinks he finally understands how much you love him.

Moments flash in his mind as you crawl onto his lap so you’re straddling him. Your constant patience with him. The gentle way you say his first name. The bright smiles and great excitement.

The ability to see the beauty in him.

You pull away with a deep breath and begin peppering kisses across his face. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” You say quietly.

Bucky shuts his eyes as he relishes in your affection. “I love you too.” He murmurs. You had become his home.

Somebody who could mend the crack caused by Steve’s departure. Different aspects of his life, yes, but you had helped him heal nonetheless.

He loved you.

And you loved him. You always had. It had just taken Bucky some time to understand how you showed it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x fem #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #james buchanan bucky barnes #cupidswritings

622 notes · View notes

bnhaisliterallymylife · 3 years

Text

Creatures of the Forest

I haven’t written anything on here in months, and to be honest I should be working on my novel rather than this. But, I’m a whore for EraserMic and can’t resist the temptation. Plus, I have a weakness for Monster AU’s, so I’m going to have fun with this.

Also heads up, I did not proofread, and story details might be a little muddy. I am tired and horny, and I will now go to bed.

Word Count: 5,242 (Kill me.)

Pairing(s): Jinn!Shouta x Female Reader x Siren!Hizashi

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, fingering, double-penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, creampie, and probably more filth.

Premise: You just wanted to have some time yourself, and considering how cheap the cabin was you couldn’t pass up the chance at a countryside getaway. And they couldn’t pass up a chance of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cabin is not what you expected, but nonetheless you just felt glad at the chance to get away from the city for awhile. Your job has been stressing you out for months, and your family is no better. You booked out this one bedroom wood cabin from the 1970s for the next two weeks, a vacation away from technology and far, far away from the thoughts that kept you from yourself.

When you first arrived you checked out the whole cabin only to find cobwebs and dust covering nearly every surface, and the appliances were horrifically outdated. So, you decided to spend your time cleaning it up a little so you didn’t feel like a spider was going to crawl into your mouth in the middle of the night. Good thing, too, because you managed to find a fiddleback in its nest just under the bed. Now, you might hate spiders, but you’re by no means a killer.

“Work with me here, otherwise one of us is gonna get hurt.” You carefully manage to put a plastic cup over the agitated spider, and using a piece of paper you’re able to carefully take it outside. You don’t want to leave it near the cabin, and you don’t want to leave it out in the open field - what if a bird got to it? You have no choice but to trek out past the lovely field of wildflowers to the dark forest that lay just beyond it.

The trees tower over you as the sun begins to set in the distance. You’re not that far away from the cabin, but hearing the branches rustle against each other as the wind blows a warm summer breeze across your skin sends goosebumps over your body. It would be best to quickly release the spider and get out of there.

You go over to the nearest tree at the very edge of the forest and take the cup away from the paper. There the spider sits, rearing back as a threat, but its dramatics do nothing to you.

“You’re not so scary out in the open, are you?”

“He could probably say the same to you.”

You drop the paper and cup, whipping your head around to find the source of the melodic voice that had spoken to you, but no one is there.

“Over here, little bird.”

Your gaze falls back towards the forest, and just a few feet in front of you is a man with long, golden blonde hair that cascades down to his waist. He’s tall, probably six feet if you had to guess, and he’s wearing a tank top and jean shorts that show off his toned body almost too well. Then there’s his eyes, a green so bright that it contrasts the darkness of the forest.

“What are you doing here?” This land is supposed to be private, or at least that’s what the listing said.

“Sorry! I forget my manners sometimes. I’m one of the owners, you’re Y/N right?” Oh, one of the owners! You remember now, the listing mentioned that the owners of the property lived elsewhere on the land and might come by to check in on things.

“Yeah. You know, the cabin could have used a cleaning. When’s the last time you had anyone else here?”

“Somethin’ like five or so years. You like it though?”

“It’s... Cozy.” The sun seems to be disappearing much faster now. “Minus the spider.”

“Unfortunately we can’t do much about nature, little bird.” You want to ask him not to call you that, but you don’t want to be rude. The cabin is pretty cheap and you’d hate to cut this trip short because of a nickname. “But, if ya want my husband can come spray the cabin for pests tomorrow. I could bring by some food, too.”

“Oh, no thanks. I think it was just the one anyways.” The point of this whole trip is for you to get some alone time, and inviting this admittedly alluring man and his husband over would go against that.

“If you’re sure...” He trails off, glancing towards the spider that is now climbing quickly up the side of the tree. “If you do change your mind though, let us know! We don’t like pests around here, either.” You chuckle a little at that, but by now you’re already starting to back away from the forest to head back towards the cabin.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir!” You call back, now intent on getting across this field as quickly as possible. But, his next words feel like they’re a whisper in your ear, making you jerk your head back towards the forest. My name is Hizashi, little bird.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After unpacking that night you found yourself exhausted from the long travel to the cabin. After checking that all of the windows and doors were locked securely, you went to bed thinking about the blonde in the woods and the plans that you had for the next day. Your eyes closed with those thoughts mingling together as you fell into a seemingly deep sleep, unaware of the eyes that watched you from just outside of the bedroom window.

“She’s even better than I imagined...”

“You shouldn’t have gone to her today, it’s too soon.”

“If we wait too long then we’ll lose our chance! Let’s take her now, she wants to be far away, so we’ll take her far away.”

“We need time, and permission.”

“Well, I know how to get one of those things.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the sun peeks through the bedroom window you attempt, and fail to stifle a groan. It might have been a good idea to bring curtains with you, but you suppose that it’s part of the woodsy experience. You sit up and stretch your arms high above your head, unaware of the creature slithering across the floor until you put your feet down and hear a hiss. Immediately you pull your feet back onto the bed with a high-pitched scream. The rattlesnake coils itself up and sets its eyes directly on you, only a few feet away from the bed.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” You mutter to yourself as you reach for your cellphone on the side table. Unfortunately for you, the snake leaps forward and takes a snap towards your arm, eliciting another screech from you and making you back yourself against the far corner of the bed. “Go to the woods, you thought, it’ll be a great experience!” You mock yourself, now looking for anything nearby that you could use as a weapon. You could toss the blanket over it and try to make a run for it, but what you miss or what if it still managed to get you?

“Y/N!” You hear Hizashi just outside the cabin.

“We heard a scream, is everything alright!?” Another voice joins him, likely his husband.

“N-No! There’s a snake in here!” You glance towards the window to see it cracked open. Didn’t you lock it last night? “I can’t get past it!” You hear some banging at the front door, but shouldn’t they have a key? Or maybe they didn’t want to just walk in? “The window to the room is open! Hurry!” How close is the nearest hospital if you get bit? How long would it take you to die?

When you see two figures come around to the bedroom window you feel like you could weep in relief, but they hesitate.

“Is it okay for us to come in? How close is the snake?” The dark-haired man asks, and in your panic you don’t even question the absurdity of the first question.

“I-It’s close to me, you can come in. Be careful though.” You’re much quieter now, thinking that maybe your yelling only made the creature on your floor angrier. Hizashi’s husband only then pushes the window further open, sticking one leg inside to stabilize himself before coming all the way in. The snake is too focused on you to notice the new intruder.

“Y/N, my name is Shouta, and I need you to follow my instructions. Can you do that for me?” His voice is low and smooth, it calms you instantly.

“O-Okay.”

“Good girl. Pick up the blanket from your bed very slowly, try not to make any sudden movements - he’s more scared of you than you are of him.” You highly doubt that, but nonetheless you lean down very slowly while Shouta sneaks around the back of the snake to grab the blanket. “Very good girl.” Your face flushes at the almost sensual compliment. “Now, throw it onto the snake. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.” His reassurance calls you to action, tossing the thin blanket onto the snake. It hisses and wildly whips around under the blanket until Shouta manages to scoop up the blanket like a bag and tie it off. Just like that, your ordeal is over.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay now Y/N, Shou’s got the big bad snake.” Hizashi is suddenly by your side in an instant. When did he come through the window? His hand is on yours as he gently guides your shaky body off of the bed.

“I don’t even know how that thing got in, I-I locked every door and window last night! I double checked everything, I cleaned yesterday, I just don’t...” Why was the window open? Did she maybe get up last night and open it? It did get pretty hot last night... Quite suddenly, you’re extremely aware of how bare you feel in your cute light blue cotton shorts and black sports bra. You hadn’t even thought of it during your state of panic.

“I’m going to take this guy outside and let him go. Hizashi brought a dish over for you to try, if you want the company.” The two of them don’t seem to mind your half-dressed state, but you do.

“Sure, um, do you mind stepping out for a few minutes though.” You release Hizashi’s hand and grab the sheet from the bed to cover yourself. They understand pretty quickly, but both men didn’t mind it. If anything they want to see more of your soft, beautiful skin.

“Sorry ‘bout that beautiful! We’ll give ya some space!” With that, both men are leaving your presence and you feel like you can breathe a sigh of relief. What just happened? It feels like it all happened at once, but you can’t say that you aren’t relieved by their excellent timing. You decide to slip on some normal jean shorts and a faded AC/DC tee-shirt you got a few years back.

When you step out of the bedroom you can see Hizashi already bustling around the kitchen, humming in a way that made you feel warm little fuzzies on the inside. Shouta is sitting at the dining room table with his dark eyes shut. You take a moment to silently admire Hizashi’s husband. He’s more filled out than the lithe blonde, and while his black wavy hair is long, it’s only a few inches past his shoulders. And then she notices the deep scar just under his right eye.

“See something you like?” Your face once again turns red when you realize his eyes have opened and he’s looking directly at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare-”

“It’s alright. It’s the scar, right?” When he says this, Hizashi stops his cooking momentarily to look back at you and his husband.

“Oh, no! I don’t mind scars, scars can be sexy!” Why did you have to say that? An amused smirk slides across Shouta’s lips when you say this. Hizashi, meanwhile, lets out a chuckle that makes the air around you feel too light.

“Well of course scars are sexy! Why don’t you tell little bird how you got that scar?” As he says this you come to sit at the table. You may as well indulge them, they did come to your rescue after all.

“It’s not that interesting.” Shouta waves it off, but he can tell that you’re interested. “Unless you want to hear about it?”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do.” You shrug, and with that you get to spend the rest of your morning with the two men.

Apparently, Shouta had a run in with a man trespassing on the land and got a knife pulled on him. He said it wasn’t that interesting, but the way he told it captivated your interest. The guy was probably a hunter, or a thief, but they never found out. The local deputy came to get the guy after the confrontation, and that was that. They continued to talk with you long after breakfast had finished and you all had eaten, asking you about your interests, your passions, the reason why you came out here. You don’t know why, but when they ask you these questions you answer without a second thought. You think that it’s because no one has ever bothered to listen to you for this long, and the couple makes you feel as if you belong here, like you’re a person who deserves to be cherished. Originally you came here to be alone, but when you’re with them you feel something that you never felt back home. You just can’t quite describe it. Hours pass, and it’s well past noon when the two men decide to take their leave.

“If you see anymore snakes-”

“-Or if you just want our company-”

“-just give us a call on the landline.” Shouta finishes for the two of them as they walk out the front door.

“Sure thing, thanks again. I don’t know what I would have done if you two hadn’t come over.”

“Probably woulda sat there, desperately waiting for your prince charming to come save you. Good thing you already have two of us.” Hizashi’s joke manages to get a little giggle out of you.

“You’re cheesy.” Shouta grumbles, though you could see a small smile on his face as well. “Come on, let’s leave Y/N alone.” You watch the two of them walk not down the dirt road that you drove on to get here, but back through the forest that encircles the cabin.

Once the couple is gone, it’s like you snap back to reality. This morning was crazy, and you got lucky, but you swore that you locked that window shut last night. Deciding that perhaps it was better to enjoy the rest of your day than continue to obsess over the snake incident, you take a sketch book and go out back to draw the pretty flowers in the field.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night feels even hotter than the day, making it near impossible for you to cover up in any way. Long ago you stripped yourself bare, sprawling yourself on top of the covers with a sheen of sweat covering your body. If you didn’t feel the cool air struggling to reach you from the vents, then you would almost think the AC is broken. Currently, you’re half asleep in an almost dreamlike state. That’s when you hear a soft whisper.

“What is your wish?”

You turn on your side, letting out unintelligible mumbles. A more soothing, honeyed voice joins the first.

“What do you desire, little bird?”

That voice sends tingles all through your body, setting every nerve on fire. It compels you to answer.

“I want...” You mumbles, eyes half open and glazed over as you give your answer. “I want... Release...” You want to feel all of your stresses disappear as if they never existed.

“I’ll give you release, kitten.”

The voice no longer sounds far away, which snaps you out of that sleepy haze and once again makes you aware of your surroundings.Your eyes adjust to the darkness to find yourself no longer in the cabin, but surrounded by looming vertical objects... Trees?

“Shhh, don’t panic, we’re here.” There’s that voice again, the one that makes orgasmic waves pulse through your eardrums. It soothes any worries that you currently have as two hands come up to your shoulders and gently lay you onto the soft ground.

They prepared this place just for you. The cabin had been a front from the very beginning, a way to lure you away from bustling city life so they could give you what you wanted - release. You didn’t know it, but you had met Shouta months before this at a little bakery just down the street from your work. You had been complaining on the phone about your new boss and how stressed you were because of your obligations, and you wished that someone would take you away from your own life. Unknowingly, you had called upon the closest Jinn in the area, and he had already taken notice of you.

“Be gentle with her, it could be her first time.”

“It’s definitely not. But don’t worry, I took care of the ex months ago.”

You can vaguely hear the conversation of the two men looming over you, but you do not react. On the inside you feel fear, vulnerability, and confusion. You can’t quite make out the figures above you, but you recognize the voices; your hosts, Shouta and Hizashi. You just can’t comprehend why they are doing this. Earlier today they were fine, sure they were getting a little too close and asking too many questions, but you wouldn’t say they invaded your space... Or did they?

“Took care of?”

“Nothing like that, he wished for a job in France, so I got him the job in France... But, he might not like that job very much.” You can hear the smirk in his voice even if you can’t see it. “It was necessary.”

“Agreed.” The hands that had pushed you back onto the pillowy moss are now moving down your sides, just barely brushing over the sides of your breasts. You barely register the sigh of pleasure that leaves your lips at the tantalizing contact.

“Zashi...”

“What? Isn’t this what we wanted?”

“We need permission.”

“We have permission! You heard the wish!”

“It was vague. I want details.” Suddenly, you can feel another set of hands gently massaging your bare feet, then moving up your smooth legs to part them at the thighs. The exposure makes you whimper, though there’s little you can do beyond that. “Release your influence, Hizashi.”

“But if we do that-”

“Release her. I want to hear her.” With what sounds like a huff of frustration from the blonde, that hazy feeling that had come over you suddenly dissipates. Your vision becomes more clear along with the two entities above you.

Hizashi has moves your arms so they’re now pinned above your head, preventing you from covering your bare breasts from their view. Shouta still has your legs spread on either side of you, but he doesn’t move any further. You meet his eyes, eyes that had been onyx earlier in the day but now glow an eerie shade of red.

“Months ago you wished to be taken away from your life. Do you remember that, Y/N?” You can’t focus on Shouta’s voice, all you can focus on is your current situation. Tings sting the edges of your eyes, and your throat starts to close up.

“P-Please...”

“She’s not going to respond like this, Shou.”

“She will, be patient. Y/N, I need you to look at me.” His voice is stern. Even though you want to look away, you once again meet his gaze. “What do you wish for now?”

“Let m-me go!” That’s your first thought, but then you feel one of Shouta’s hands creeping further up your thigh, his fingers just barely brushing over your outer lips.

“Do you mean that?” You nod your head frantically, and unbeknownst to you Shouta’s partner is giving him an incredulous look. “So, you want to go back to that stressful life in the city? You want your asshole boss to walk all over you, making you feel like you’re the scum of the earth? You want your parents to treat you like you mean nothing?” He emphasizes the final word with a hiss, and this seems to get to you. Your sniffling briefly ceases, though you’re still tugging against the tight hold of both of the men as if you could escape.

“What are you?”

“A Jinn, kitten. Do you know what a Jinn is?” You nod you head - you’re aware of the mythology behind beings like him, but how does he exist? They’re fictional! “Months ago I heard your desperate plea, and ever since then I’ve been eager to give you want you want... For a price.” His thumb brushes over your clit briefly, making your body stiffen.

“F-For sex?”

“For partnership. To be with me, to be with Hizashi, to be with both of us. It does get lonely out here.”

“And I can’t leave.” Hizashi pipes in with a sad smile. “I’m a Siren tied permanently to this forest. Remember the story about the man with a knife? He was going to hurt this place, so we had no choice. Once this place is gone, so am I.” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your skin.

“You don’t need me though, I don’t need your wishes or whatever! I want to...” You wish that you could say that you want to go home, but do you? Despite your current circumstances, you found yourself considering this deal.

“If you’re here, then Hizashi won’t be alone. I can go out for supplies without worrying about him.”

“And if you’re here, you won’t have to deal with those pesky worries you had before little bird. You get to have fun, be free, be loved by us.” But why you? Why did they want to take you?

“Because you’re special, Y/N. Because out of everyone in that city, you were the one who wanted to escape the most, who cared but wasn’t cared for. You deserve us.” Shouta drives his point home here, but he hopes that it will be enough. After all, he would prefer your consent, but it’s not entirely needed here.

“Okay.” You whisper. After all, what’s really waiting for you back home? Misery and paperwork, that’s what.

“Okay what?”

“You need to be more specific, Y/N.” You take a deep, shuddering breath before you speak again.

“I-I want release, I don’t want to go home anymore.”

“And in exchange?” Shouta pushes, his eyes glowing as he stares into yours.

“In e-exchange, I’ll stay here. I’ll be your... Partner.”

That seems to be all that they need from you, because in the next moment the two men above you are no longer clothed. You squeak and shut your eyes - it’s not the first time you’ve seen a naked man, but usually they don’t just pop out in front of you like that!

“You’re little noises are so cute.” Hizashi uses one of his knees to keep your wrists pinned above your head so his hands could get to work. While your eyes are still closed you feel his soft fingers run across your neck and past your collarbone, headed straight for your breasts. But just before they can get there, a pair of lips smash to yours. Shouta’s tongue flicks out at your bottom lip, beckoning you to allow him inside. Just at that moment, Hizashi’s fingers find your pert nipples, giving each of them a tiny pinch. This causes you to moan, and Shouta takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth to get a taste.

You can feel Shouta’s thick erection against your cunt, twitching in anticipation. It has been awhile since you’ve had another man, and you have to admit that the thought of being railed by these very good looking men wasn’t so bad. You start to becoming lightheaded from the kiss and constant ministrations of your sensitive nipples when Shouta finally pulls away from the kiss to let you breathe.

“Good girl.” He brings his thumb up to wipe away some of the saliva from around your lips. “We’ll put this to more use later. For now, I want to see you cum.” In what feels like two seconds Shouta is suddenly between your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders so he could get a good view of your waiting, wet pussy. He blows cool air over your sensitive little nub, making it quiver and throb in anticipation. Meanwhile, Hizashi finally leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the little bug while his fingers continue to tug and pinch the other. Your head sits in the blonde’s lap, his cock mere inches away from your face.

“Do you want to suck me, little bird?” As he says this in that low, melodic voice of his, Shouta flicks his tongue over your clit, making your writhe under them.

“Careful, she almost came.”

“Is my voice too much for you?” You can only pant in response, letting out a soft moan when Shouta flicks his tongue over your little nub again.

“Answer him, or we’ll make this last.”

“Y-Yes... It’s... I makes me feel good.” His voice makes you feel like you could orgasm in seconds.

“And do you want to suck daddy’s cock?” The way he words it makes you whine, but you nonetheless give him an answer.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes... Daddy.” The instant that you finish that sentence, Shouta’s mouth latches onto your clit, sucking on it so harshly that you can feel your head spin. Hizashi repositions himself so he’s kneeling right over your face, running his fingers through your hair as he guides your lips to his tip. You take his tip into your mouth and suck it softly, eliciting a groan from the man that gets sent straight to your groin.

“Fuck, just her lips are almost enough... Come on honey, you can take me deeper.” And you do, you try to relax your throat so you can take Hizashi’s cock deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his base, all while Hizashi has his hands continually playing with your nipples, never letting up.

Shouta continues his work between your legs, nipping softly at your clit while bringing a finger to your entrance. He gently pushes it inside of you, giving it a few thrusts before adding a second. You adjust tremendously well. He can already feel your wet cavern clenching tightly around his fingers as he curls his digits upwards. To this you give him a sweet little cry, which only results in Shouta setting a relentless pace. He pounds those fingers into you, hitting your sensitive spot with such precision that you can hardly focus on the cock in your mouth all while sucking and swirling his expert tongue over your swollen clit until you finally clench tightly around his fingers and cry out with your first orgasm of the evening.

Hizashi slows down the thrusts into your mouth as Shouta pulls away from between your legs, slowly pulling himself out as well. For a moment you’re confused, wondering why they could pull away when they haven’t found relief yet, only to be suddenly pulled forward so you’re hovering right over Shouta’s thick length. Hizashi comes up behind you, pressing soft kisses and nipples to the soft spot on your neck - he’s going to leave plenty of marks here later.

“Do you think you can take both of us?” Shouta asks, momentarily confused you until you realize what he means.

“I’ve never done it, um, there before.”

“We can make it easy, if you let us. It’ll only feel good.” Hizashi assures you, rubbing comforting circles into your thighs.

“We want to make you feel good.” Shouta adds, both hesitating until they see you nod your head once again.

“Okay.” You still feel nervous, but you want to feel good, and so far it feels really good.

Shouta helps your ease yourself onto his dick, pressing gently into your waiting pussy while giving your already oversensitive clit little flicks from his thumb. Once he has settled deep within you, you feel Hizashi spread your ass cheeks and press a finger into you. Your face burns from slight embarrassment, but admittedly as he begins to move the saliva covered digit in and out of you, you find yourself enjoying it. You try to move whilst on top of Shouta, but he grabs your hips to keep you still.

“Wait.” He commands, smirking at your impatient whine. That whine then turns into a gasp as you feel a second finger being pressed into your rear hole, nibbling on your bottom lip as an uncomfortable burning sensation takes place of the previous pleasure.

“Relax for me, little bird.” Hizashi whispers, and like his words work magic you instantly relax and that burning sensation goes away. He pumps those a few times while your juices continue to drench Shouta’s cock, then they’re gone, replaced instead by Hizashi’s pulsating member. “Stay relaxed, and take a few breaths.” Hizashi murmurs, placing a few soft kisses to your neck as he pushes himself into you.

At first you feel that uncomfortable burning sensation once again, but then that changes to a fullness that gives you pleasure. You huff in lust as Hizashi pushes the full of his length into you, both men temporarily remaining still while you adjust. Your back is pressed flush against Hizashi’s chest, so you can feel his heartbeat rhythmically hammering against you while they both wait.

“Please...”

“Please what?” Shouta once again brushes his thumb over your swollen clit, making you whimper.

“Please, make me yours.”

As if you said the magic words, both men suddenly begin to move within you. Shouta keeps your hips stilled while rolling his own to thrust up into you, meanwhile Hizashi wraps one arm around your waist to grope your breast. You feel his teeth graze against your shoulder with enough pressure to bruise, but you don’t care, you’re in a euphoric state right now.

Shouta keeps your clit busy with his thumb while the both of them pick up their paces, the sound of sweaty skin slapping together resonating throughout the dense forest. You can feel your next orgasm already building as the two of them continue at their brutal pace, the feeling of your holes clenching around them driving them absolutely wild with lust - they’re not going to last much longer, either.

“Fuck - we love you, kitten.”

“Yesss, we love you so much little bird.” Hizashi grunts into your ear, and while you can’t say it yet, you’re sure that it won’t take but a few months before you’re saying the same words back.

All it takes is one well timed thrust against your g-spot and another flick to your clit before you’re clamping down on both men and letting out a long, strangled moan with your second orgasm. Shouta follows quickly behind you along with Hizashi, both men pressing deep within you before they spill their seeds. They stay inside of you even afterwards, letting you back in your afterglow as they both praise you, pressing kisses over your skin and telling you how great you did for them.

It’s too late for you to turn back now. You’ve made the deal, and you sealed it the second that you said yes.

#erasermic x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #smut #monster au #why do i do this to myself #i really need to get on that novel #i could have done so much work by now DX #erasermic x fem!reader

355 notes · View notes

ptergwen · 3 years

Text

love is more than a word

w/c: a very ouch 3.6k

warnings: so so so much angst and an unhealthy (ish) relationship

summary: after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying

a/n: listen y’all i don’t know what came over me when i made this but i think it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever written? uh try to enjoy tho

you never thought this would happen, but you’re getting tired of peter. it isn’t your fault. that cliche it’s not you, it’s me line doesn’t apply here.

at first, you actually did find yourself believing the it’s me part. you’d came to the conclusion that you expect too much from peter. he goes to class, he works, patrols, sometimes parties, takes you out when he can. he’s got a lot going on for a full time college student, which is a busy life to lead on its own.

it’s why you don’t complain when he wants to spend the night in and order a pizza instead of cooking together like you’ve been wanting to try. it’s why every time your friends ask you two to hang, you have to reluctantly explain that peter is passed out at eight o’clock on a saturday.

there’s a lazy “wanna make out?” some nights, if peter isn’t yawning when he steps through the front door. even that has lost its enjoyment. kissing peter doesn’t give you the rush it used to, the taste of his strawberry chapstick not flooding your senses and intoxicating you. it’s become predictable. comfortable. boring.

peter is boring.

you’ve slipped into unspoken routine. say your hello’s, work on separate assignments in different rooms. peter eventually yells something like “babe, you hungry yet?” across the apartment, his passive way of asking you to make dinner. you usually order takeout because why make an effort if he doesn’t?

you might watch one of the ten movies peter has liked since before the start of your relationship. he’ll usually fall asleep during it. no surprise there. his overpacked schedule exhausts him, which you’ve talked to him about spreading himself too thin. peter is too nice and can’t say no, so this is where it leaves him.

the main reason you’ve stayed with him is that he can’t take care of himself. he’s clueless about paying the bills, sorting his laundry, simply remembering to drink water. peter wouldn’t be able to go a week without you. he even says it himself.

“crap, i totally forgot about these,” when you picked up his special ordered textbooks from your school library. “can food go in the garbage disposal?” a rare time you didn’t wash the dishes. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re literally a lifesaver,” whenever you do a task for him that someone in their 20s shouldn’t need assistance with.

you didn’t used to mind much. he watches over the city every night. you felt you should return the favor. spider-man could use some help, too. after the almost four years you’ve been together, peter has become completely dependent on you. it only got worse when you moved in together your junior year. you’re concerned how he’ll manage later in his adult life.

you’d think he’d be a little more passionate about your relationship considering how much he needs you. you know peter still loves you, of course he does. that’s not what the problem is. he’s become content with the mutual feeling, so he doesn’t try anymore. he expects the spark to keep itself lit.

no more random joke of the day texts that he used to send you. he stopped surprising you with your coffee order in the morning, the one that he memorized the first time you two went to a starbucks. what you initially found most endearing about peter was that he remembered every little thing you told him.

he put whatever energy he had into showing you that he listened. he’d do it all with rosy cheeks and that toothy smile of his. it seems now like he’s under the impression that being in a long term relationship means none of that matters anymore. there’s no need to impress you, keep you guessing, make you feel special.

tonight is your breaking point. as you go over all of this in your head while peter lays peacefully next to you, you can’t take it. you’ve been making so many excuses for him. you lie to yourself. you’re desperate to believe this is okay and normal and you can work this out, and you can love whatever version of him this is.

but, you can’t. you can’t do it. you need to tell him now because if you sleep on this, you’ll end up feeling bad and be stuck under these suffocating blankets forever.

“peter?” you whisper his name, your back turned to him in bed. you haven’t cuddled each other to sleep in a while. his arms don’t make you feel held now, they make you feel trapped. you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore his look of hurt when you reject his open embrace.

“peter?” you speak louder after a moment of silence, except for his occasional snores. a loud one escapes him before they stop altogether. his eyes stay shut as he mumbles out a, “uh... huh?” your heart is thudding through your entire body. you take a breath in from your nose. “i wanna break up.”

the breath you let out next is one of relief, those three words that have been scratching your throat for months finally out. peter slowly turns his head over his shoulder. he blinks rapidly at your motionless figure. you’re still not facing him.

“what?” is all he says. his voice is surprisingly steady, the confession not yet registering with his sleepy mind. his eyes are burning into you. “i wanna break up,” you repeat and squish your face further into your pillow. peter suddenly sits up, flicking on the lamp on his side. he tries to sling an arm around you. you move further away until you’re at the edge of the bed.

“i’m serious, peter. everything we had, it’s gone.” your words cut through him harder than literal knives he’s been stabbed with. “i- i don’t understand. where is this coming from?” he rakes a hand through his mess of curls. you turn onto your back, looking up at peter. his eyes are fixed on your lower half.

he’ll most definitely cry if he meets your eyes. he really doesn’t want to cry, not ever again when you won’t be here to make him feel better.

“it’s been coming,” you almost scoff at him as you prop yourself up against your pillows. peter’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “all we do is this.” you gesture to your bed, slapping your hand down at your side. “i get tired,” he speaks quietly, refusing to look at you. “i know you do, peter. i know, but you’d be a lot happier if you ever listened to me.”

your statement comes off as condescending to him. he works up the courage to look you in the face. “are you kidding? all you do is boss me around, and i take it. i’ve never once complained.” anger is coursing through his veins and voice. at the situation, that he’s about to lose the one stable part of his life. you’re getting pissed, too.

“that’s because you can’t do anything yourself!” you throw the blankets off you and swing your legs over the bed in one motion. peter hops out of bed entirely. “my whole life, i’ve been on my own half the time,” he spits as he comes over to stand in front of you. “sorry for taking you up on your offers to help.”

your peter would never spew that shit out. he wouldn’t guilt you for something he’s in the wrong about. this peter takes you for granted. he has no clue how fucked he’d be without you.

the first time you spoke to peter was on your way to history 227. you’d recognized him from your class, much more interested in the pretty boy taking notes with his tongue stuck out than whatever war your professor would lecture about.

he was carrying some books, a pencil case that didn’t fully zip, and a five subject notebook. you watched him do his balancing act through the halls until his legs started to wobble. a knowing smile on your face, you tapped his shoulder. it was a gentle one so you didn’t scare him and make all his things fall over.

“can i carry something for you?” you laughed out and pushed one of your backpack straps up on your shoulder. peter only stared at you, his doe eyes prompting you to reach for his pencil case. “uh, no, it’s fine. i got it. see?” he proved that to you by hiking everything up in his arms. he gave you a smile of his own.

“are you sure? we’re going to the same place,” you’d checked again and pointed at his impressive pile. “i’m not gonna steal your sharpies.” “really, i’m fine,” peter insisted with a heart clenching chuckle. “you can have one, if you want,” he offered and attempted to unzip his case, one handed. you put your hand over his to stop him.

“wait until we get to class,” you let go of him, leaving the tips of peter’s ears a shade of pink you’d later fall in love with. “i’ll sit with you.”

peter was once determined to do things on his own, to be self-sufficient. it used to be something he was proud of. now, he’s completely incapable of holding his independence.

“we’re done, peter.” your tone is short, you getting to your feet. “you’d probably forget how to fucking breathe without me, but call it bossing around, i guess,” you laugh bitterly and go over to your drawers. peter’s face falls as he grabs your wrist, stopping you when you pass by him. “where are you going?”

no answer. you pull yourself out of his grasp with your lips pressed into a stern line. peter follows you step by step over to the dresser. “wait, wait. don’t leave, baby. please,” he begs you, getting onto his knees beside you. you’re pulling random clothes out as quick as you can. a science t-shirt peter outgrew is in your hands.

peter used to give you all his old clothes. the signature smell of his cologne lingered no matter how many times you washed them. they kept you calm on nights he was out late patrolling or away on missions. peter would sport a smirk whenever you wore them out in public, pulling you closer to him and complimenting the look.

it started when he was packing for his first mission since you two had begun living together. he’d realized he became too buff to fit in some shirts. remembering how many times you’d giggle at their funny sayings, peter gave them to you. you threw one on and thanked him with a peck on the cheek. it became your tradition.

peter would set off for a new continent, but a piece of him would stay home with you.

the stretched out hoodies and ripped sweatpants just sit in your drawer now. another meaningful thing discontinued. whatever he doesn’t want goes to may for donations now. the memory of what they used to mean to you makes a fit of rage burst through you.

you slam down his ‘find x’ shirt in the space between his knees and yours. you’re on a mission of your own this time. you aren’t going anywhere until you get rid of all the stuff that went from him to you.

“y/n, don’t do this. i- i love you. i love you.” peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes. his vision is clouded while you toss more clothes to your side. “i love you, y/n/n,” he whimpers again, and this time you briskly push the drawer shut. the whole dresser shakes. this is the most emotion either of you have shown in the past few months of your relationship. it’s a little too late.

“love is more than a word, peter. you have to back it up with actions.” you’re doing your best not to cry. the memories of how loved peter made you feel play in your mind. he briefly wipes under his eyes and shakes his head. he’s so oblivious. “i thought i- i did.” “exactly, you did. you gave up at some point.” your voice gets weaker as a tear drips down your chin.

you didn’t plan on breaking down when you imagined this moment. part of you wishes you could give him another chance. most of you knows it wouldn’t do any good for you or peter. you’re not right for each other anymore. he outgrew some sweatshirts, you outgrew him.

that takes you all the way back to it’s not you, it’s me. it’s really both of you.

for the last time, you pull peter in for a hug. the two of you need this. he loops his arms around your back, keeping them loose around you as he tucks his face into the side of your neck. you’re a mix of tears and sharp breaths with your chin on his shoulder. you bring a hand up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of curls.

he sobs right into your ear, effectively destroying whatever composure you had left.

even though you’re not in love with peter, you haven’t stopped loving him. somewhere inside of him is the goofy boy who asked you out on a post-it during class. the kindhearted man who gave so much of himself to the world and saved enough for you. the one whose fingertips left goosebumps on your skin with every touch.

seeing him like this, having caused it feels like a dull pain rippling in every part of your body. you’ve been there to soothe him during countless breakdowns over the years. you managed to stay strong for all of them. this is the only exception. he lost people, felt down about life, made mistakes. you were there to pick up each piece and put them back together.

the one mistake peter made that you can’t fix is not loving you right. you became his rock, his anchor whenever he let grief and sadness rule over him. you’d get him back to himself. he could’ve at least bought you flowers once in a while, or done anything that showed his gratitude. every iteration of awful put together isn’t enough to describe how he feels.

“i’m so- i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i don’t deserve you. i never have,” peter murmurs as he cries, wetting your skin that his face is still pressed into. your fingers pull roughly at his hair. hot tears overflow from your own eyes. “i should’ve done more.” his voice cracks on the last word. “that’s all i wanted to hear, pete,” you breathe out and pull away from him.

“does that mean you’ll stay?” he croaks, arms still wound around your body. his eyes are hopeful when they lock with yours. a frown pulls at your lips. “only for tonight. i should... one of us should sleep on the couch.” “oh,” his voice is gravelly, so he clears his throat. “i’ll do it.” you’re not going to fight him on it for once.

peter removes his arms from your waist, you sitting back down on your thighs. you give him a blink and you’ll miss it smile because you can’t keep one for long. it’s to let him know you’re not mad. you were at the start of this conversation, then he took accountability. you also came to terms with the fact that the downfall of your relationship was a joined effort.

there are more factors than peter not giving you what he should have. time, different goals, new outlooks on life. you can’t hate only him because a whole bunch of things lead to this.

instead of a smile, since he physically can’t put one on his splotchy face, peter brushes the pad of his thumb over the corner of your lips. he gets up to leave the room, but you stop him with a “wait!” he freezes in front of you. you get out a hoodie from his pile of old clothes and stand up. “it’s cold.” you put it in his hands, earning a grin that he didn’t think was possible.

“thanks, y/n,” peter sighs and holds the hoodie against his chest. “goodnight. um,” this is the part where he’d usually say i love you. “sleep well, okay?” the replacement stings for both of you. you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without hearing that phrase first. as much as you didn’t feel it anymore, you’d become used to it. “you too, peter. night,” you say softly.

you head back to your bed while peter walks out the door. he glances at you once, and you’re already settling under the covers. he shuts the door behind him before finding his way to the couch.

your bed has always seemed too small. it’s gigantic without peter. you aren’t sure how you feel about that yet.

peter lays across the couch, the hood that doesn’t quite fit him pulled over his head. he’s only wearing it because you gave it to him. you doing that not even five minutes ago was how you backed up your love with actions. it’s so easy. silent tears spill from his eyes at the realization.

he wishes on every star that he could’ve figured out he wasn’t doing enough sooner. you’d be together right now, had he just caught on. there was a time he prided himself on knowing you fully and completely. how to turn you into the shy one with certain combinations of words, what your schedule was each week so he could plan his free time around it.

your relationship became something he thought would last unconditionally. if only he was able pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong.

you’re right in the other room. he can go in there and bawl, plead for you to take him back. how could he do that and claim to love you, though? you’ve made it clear you‘re over him.

the best way for peter to show you he loves you is by letting you live your life, without him in it.

you don’t see peter again for weeks. he moved back in with may, and you got to keep the apartment. you were the one who took all the care of it, anyway.

your semester ended at the perfect time because peter isn’t in any of your new classes. the city is too big to bump into each other. you’re free from the hold he had on you, which would’ve been four years long since yesterday. you’ve been good at picking up his broken pieces for too long, and now it’s time to pick up your own.

for all the hangouts you missed on his behalf, you made up for it. you called mj the day after your breakup and met for lunch. she never explicitly said it, but she took your side. peter had a feeling because when he had the same idea as you, to lean on his friends for support, she never reached out.

betty is indifferent, ned stays cordial with you. his real loyalty is to peter. you can’t blame him.

peter hasn’t been doing well since you broke up. he’s not eating enough, he can’t focus on work of any kind. you were right when you said he would forget how to breathe without you. he often wonders how you’ve been.

he finds out today.

you’re walking around campus, heading in the direction peter just came from. he has a class in the building your last one was. the two of you are on the same sidewalk, opposite sides. he almost doesn’t recognize you.

mj is on one side of you, a guy he’s never seen before with an arm around your shoulders. you’re all laughing about whatever dumb thing your professor said during the lecture. your hair, which is done in a new style, flows behind you in the spring breeze. a smile takes place on your glossy lips. the smile is directed towards that guy. your new boyfriend, peter assumes.

you look amazing, and not only physically. you seem happy with your small group of people. peter hadn’t been able to give you that happiness in years, so it’s nice to see you got it back somehow.

he must have stared too long because you notice him. you fall behind mj and your potential boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in discussing your next project. peter stops walking. you do the same. he’s not sure if he upset you, or what’s going on. his instincts tell him to apologize. his mouth stays closed.

that infectious smile of yours appears once again. you thought about peter yesterday, it being your anniversary and all. you’d only let yourself remember the good things. they outweighed the bad ones when you look back on everything.

“aye, grandma! get over here!” mj calls to you, your boyfriend nudging her side. “take your time, y/n/n. i’m not in a rush to write seven long ass pages.” you laugh to yourself at the two of them. peter fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. it’s from the drawer of things you used to wear. “one sec!” you yell back.

“hey,” you turn to face peter, who’s giving you a tight lipped smile. “how’ve you been?” “i’m okay. just, you know,” he shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. there’s a short silence before peter says, “you seem good. really good.” he smiles for real this time. “yeah, i am. i hope you are, too,” you tell him and genuinely mean it.

you’d like to catch up soon, but it’s not right yet. you both need more time. “i’ll see you around?” you’re already starting to walk, backwards so you can see peter. “uh, sure. bye,” he gives you a quick wave and continues on his way.

you get back to mj and your boyfriend, his arm returning to your shoulders. they waited for you by the stoplight. “what’d ya get up to over there?” he teases, mj suspiciously watching your face for any tells. you carefully think through your answer with a grin. “love.”

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spiderman #marvel #peter parker angst

1K notes · View notes

kurokoros · 4 years

Text

liar liar | bakugou katsuki

Rated: M

Words: 9.4K

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Bakugou is hit with a strange quirk. You reap the benefits.

AN: This fic is 50% crack and 50% raunchy smut. I have zero explanations for this. Also big thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for ranting with me once about the fandoms weird level of hatred towards Bakugou, thus inspiring me to write something for him. I’m so sorry it was this.

Warnings: smut, language, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub undertones, rough sex, degradation, spanking, choking, inappropriate use of quirks

***

Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Kirishima glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they step into Bakugou’s office, red eyes narrowing in concern as he sees Bakugou’s gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Are you sure you’re okay, bro?” he asks, a little hesitant.

“I’m fine,” Bakugou practically snarls between his teeth. Fuck. The tingling sensation starts in his gut, heat spreading through his limbs, and he nearly swears aloud as the sensation shifts to his dick, his boxer-briefs getting uncomfortably tighter. Shit, he’s probably up to at least another inch by now. Thank god his pants are baggy.

Unfortunately, Kirishima isn’t so easily convinced. Brows furrowing, he looks Bakugou over slowly, searching for any lasting effects from their earlier scuffle with a few low rank villains. “You’ve been acting kind of… strange,” he settles on after an awkward beat of silence, “since you got hit by that quirk. You know, you probably should have gone to a—”

“I said I’m—” Bakugou cuts himself off as that tingle comes back. “I’ll be fine,” he corrects himself. The tingle goes away, and he almost groans in relief as his dick returns to its normal size. “Drop it, Kirishima.”

Kirishima holds his hands up in front of him, placating his huffy friend. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He backs off, still eyeing Bakugou warily as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He glances at the time. “Look, man, I gotta go. I have a date in twenty, and she’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.” His smile is apologetic, but exhausted.

“Whatever.” Bakugou tosses off one of his gauntlets, letting it clatter against the floor noisily. Breathing slowly through his nose, he peels off his mask as well, setting it down on his desk. It’s fine. Everything is fine. He can handle this. It’s just a really fucking annoying quirk that’ll probably go away on it’s own by the end of the day.

Another tingle stirs in his gut, and then his underwear tightens again.

Fuck. He can’t even lie to himself.

Just as casually as before, Kirishima says, “Yeah, and since I figured you shouldn’t be alone, I called you a babysitter,” as he types out a quick text on his phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kirishima calls out your name in a sing-song voice.

Bakugou drops his other gauntlet on his foot and whirls around. “You what?” he hisses, only half because of the pain. The sound of your name definitely doesn’t cause his heart to do something stupid like flutter in his chest. And his pants definitely don’t get snug around his crotch as he blatantly lies to himself. “Kirishima, what the fuck? Why would you call her?”

Taken aback by the outburst, Kirishima puts his phone away and shrugs. “I figured she’d make you feel better.”

“I don’t fucking want her here,” Bakugou tells him. Nothing happens in his pants. Like the bullshit quirk affecting his dick can’t decide if that’s a lie or not. Hell, Bakugou isn’t really sure either. Sure, he likes having you around, even if he’d never admit it. He likes seeing your pretty smile as you come flouncing into his office wearing one of those little skirts that make him want to bend you over his desk and—

He squeezes his eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can go any further and his pants grow any tighter from non-quirk related reasons.

On the other hand, you’re quite possibly the last person he ever wants to see him like this. Too bad the universe seems intent on fucking him over today.

“Nice to see you too, Bakugou.”

The sound of your voice hits him like a lightning strike, still sweet despite the sarcastic inflection of your tone. Bolts of electricity shoot up his spine. In his chest, his heart pounds viciously against his ribs, and Bakugou’s shoulders tense as every one of his senses suddenly becomes a tune to you. Even from across the room, the scent of your perfume tickles at his nose—something floral or fruity that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s heavy and enticing and he tries not to shiver as it wraps around him.

He doesn’t dare turn to look at you as you take a step further into his office, determinedly staring at the wall and hoping you’ll leave with Kirishima. Yeah, un-fucking-likely.

When his silence persists, you roll your eyes and turn to Kirishima instead, the pinched expression on your face relaxing into a pleasant smile when you meet the eyes of the more friendly half of the duo. “Thanks for calling, Kiri,” you say, smoothing out your skirt.

A wide grin is the response you get. “Of course,” Kirishima says, stretching out and linking his fingers behind his head. “Figured he’d listen to you over anyone else.” He ignores the glare Bakugou sends his way, his lips twitching in amusement at the stark silence coming from the explosive blond.

You scoff. “Hardly, but I’ll try.” Casting a glance at Bakugou, you’re a little glad he seems intent on ignoring you, because it gives you the perfect opportunity to give him a slow once-over—for injuries, of course. He looks fine to you, a few superficial scrapes and bruises, but nothing severe enough for Kirishima to call you.

The tension in his shoulders is the first thing you notice. Bakugou is awkwardly hunched over himself in a way that isn’t like him at all. Usually, the Pro Hero exudes confidence that would border on cockiness if he didn’t have the skills to back it up, but right now he just looks... uncomfortable. What little of his face you can see is pinched, but not in annoyance; it’s more like pain, you realize, but then his expression melts into one of relief and you’re left baffled once again.

Before you can think too hard about it, your gaze wanders lower and you’re promptly distracted by his bare arms.

Kirishima clears his throat when you stare at Bakugou’s biceps a little too long.

“What happened anyway?” you ask, turning back to Kirishima. Your face feels warm, and by the way he grins you can tell he notices your faint blush. “You didn’t say much on the phone.”

He sobers a little as you bring the conversation back to the other Hero. The humor bleeds from his eyes, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time. We ran into a couple of villains on patrol. One of them caught Bakubro off guard and he got hit with their quirk. Wouldn’t let anyone check him out after.” He shrugs halfheartedly, looking at you apologetically. “You know how he gets.”

Don’t you ever. You’ve never met someone as stubborn as Bakugou before in your life. He can be a real pain in the ass when he wants, and you can’t blame Kirishima for his best friend being a dumbass.

You prop your hands on your hips, eyes narrowing in on Bakugou again. “How long has he been sulking?” you ask just loud enough for Bakugou to hear you.

Ruby eyes pin you with a heavy glower that would probably make anyone else piss themselves. Bakugou’s lip pulls back in a snarl, his teeth bared, and you ignore the pleasant tingle that shoots down your spine. “I’m not fucking sulking!” he snaps at you, making your eyes roll.

“Sure you aren’t.” Before he can start arguing with you, you turn back to Kirishima. “What do we know about this quirk?”

“Nothing. Cops are questioning the guy now, but he’s not talking.” Kirishima gestures to Bakugou with his thumb. “And Ground Zero here keeps saying he’s fine.”

Across the room, Bakugou grumbles to himself under his breath, noticeably displeased with your lack of attention, but like hell he’s going to say anything about it. Jealousy is a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, and for once he can’t even pretend that’s not what it is as his glare shifts to Kirishima. Fuck, he wants you to look at him again. Pay attention to him.

The honesty is surprising to him, but he keeps his mouth shut and definitely doesn’t pout as you and Kirishima continue to chat like he isn’t even there. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to end the conversation immediately, Bakugou huffs and turns around, glaring as he leans back against his desk, watching the two of you. His gaze skips right over Kirishima and lands on you, and he swallows back a frustrated groan when he finally gets a good look at you.

Fuck, you look good today. Unable to help himself, he’s absolutely shameless as he stares at your legs, your short skirt and high heels making them look even longer than usual. Bakugou grits his teeth as his mind drifts to those legs wrapping around his hips and yanking him closer. For once, he allows the thought to linger, lost in his own head.

“I see,” you murmur as your conversation with Kirishima comes to a close. With your lips pursed in thought, your gaze shifts back to Bakugou, only to find him already staring right back at you, watching you intently. Your pulse jumps under his piercing gaze, and it takes everything in you to break eye contact with him and smile at Kirishima instead. “I’ll take care of it. Have fun on your date, Kiri.”

Kirishima shoots you a megawatt smile and a thumbs up.“Will do! Good luck with this guy!” He pays no attention to Bakugou’s grumbling as he heads out the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving you and Bakugou alone together in an office far away from other people.

Yeah, this should be fun.

You twist on your heels so that you’re facing Bakugou directly. Trying for a charming smile, you prop your hands on your hips. He glares at you and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not planning on cooperating. And boy does it give you an excellent view of his muscled forearms, all tanned skin and silver scars from years of hero work. You wet your lips, suddenly thirsty.

“Okay, Ground Zero,” you start, giddily noticing the way he puffs up at your use of his hero name, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do we have to do this the hard way?” Your voice lowers at the end, coming out as a husky whisper.

Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and he grits his teeth against the pleasant warmth that curls in his chest. “Piss off,” he bites out, a low and dangerous edge to his voice that you easily ignore.

If you hadn’t known him for years, maybe it would be intimidating, but despite his gruff attitude and biting tone, you know he would never lay a hand on you. “Come on, Bakugou,” you try again, taking a step towards him as a small pout forms on your lips. “Please tell me? I just want to help and make you feel better.”

The breathy whine you let out paired with you wanting to make him feel better does absolutely nothing to help the situation going on in his pants.

His gaze slides to the side, avoiding your eyes as he tells you to “Just go home,” because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment there.

But you don’t back down. You can be just as stubborn as him when you want to be, and there’s no way in hell you’re leaving just so he can cling to his manly pride, or whatever it is he’s worried about. Clearly, asking nicely isn’t going to work. Honestly, you’d be more surprised if it did. “Hard way it is.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, and his head snaps towards you just in time for you to launch yourself at him. It’s a bit difficult, between your skirt and heels, but you catch him off guard, and that helps. He tries to twist away at the last second, leaving you to cling to his back, limbs wrapping around him tightly. A surprised grunt escapes his at your sudden weight on him, but he doesn’t even stumble, letting you curl your body around him in a one-sided hug.

“Get off me, loser,” he growls at you, glaring at you over his shoulder. Despite his irritation, Bakugou makes no move to shake you off. In fact, one of his big hands latches onto your leg when you start to slip, allowing you to shift yourself for a better grip. He lets go of you just as quickly, standing stock still in the middle of the room while glaring at everything that isn’t you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder where you’re grabbing him. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

This time, he does try to shake you off, and you squeal as your grip starts to slip. “I’m fine!” he snaps at you, only to wince a second later.

Ever the opportunist, you don’t think twice before hooking your leg around him and going for his knees. Bakugou swears as he loses his balance, and somehow you manage to knock him to the floor using a grappling move that he taught you. He ends up rolling in time to land on his back, cushioning your fall aa your knees press against the floor on either side of his hips, straddling him as you pin him with a firm look. Long fingers grasp at your upper thighs, his thumbs grazing the hem of your skirt, and he lets you go just as quickly, as if you’ve burned him

Bakugou looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, but, again, he makes no move to shove you away, though he definitely could.

“Oh, yeah, clearly you’re just fine,” you reply, sarcasm laid on thick. Your hands are pressed against his chest for balance as you regain your bearings, and you can feel the angry breath he takes. Bakugou is warm and solid beneath you, hips pressed snug against yours. It feels way too good, but that’s not what you need to be thinking about at this moment. “Now stop acting like a baby and tell me what’s going on.”

Looking up at you, Bakugou sighs when your fierce look doesn’t relent. He mutters something under his breath that’s too low for you to make out clearly, then grimaces. “It’s nothing,” he tells you again, a harsh edge to his voice.

You pin him with a glare. “You got hit by a strange quirk, Bakugou,” you tell him slowly, contempt dripping from every word. “That’s not nothing.” The crack in your voice on the last word is what makes him drop the sour look on his face. You wince, fingers curling tighter around his shirt, like that might keep you grounded. All the fear you felt when Kirishima called you earlier comes surging back through you, and it feels like a blow to the ribs. You stare at his chest as you continue, the words bubbling up and out before you can stop them. “I know you. You’re too damn prideful to go see a doctor and admit something is wron—and that scares me sometimes, you know? One day you could get really hurt.” Slowly, you force your eyes up, meeting his stare with your own tentative one. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. For me?”

Bakugou’s expression softens nearly an imperceptible amount. His glare smooths out. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath, trying to ignore the violent tug on his heartstrings that comes with that pleading look in your eyes. He’s always been a sucker for you, and you damn well know it too.

But he’s not going to give in this time.

The tingle that goes straight to his crotch proves him very wrong.

You freeze above him, body locking up as something big and hard presses against your inner thigh. “Katsuki,” you say, forcing yourself not to react aside from the widening of your eyes. “Is that your…”

“Yeah,” he replies, jaw clenched. His tone is nothing short of mocking when he tacks on, “You’re sitting on my cock, sweetheart.”

Well, shit. You blink at him owlishly, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of literally anything to say in this situation that isn’t stupid, crass, or a blatant change of subject. It’s surprisingly hard to think with his bulge pressed up against your leg like this, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you turned on right now?” you ask incredulously, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I swear to God, Katsuki, I’m trying to be serious here, and you—”

He cuts you off. “I’m not fucking hard.” A pair of big, rough hands latch onto your thighs to keep you from squirming over his lap. “But if you keep moving around like that, I will be.”

“You liar.” A gasp sticks in your throat as he tightens his grip on your legs. By this point, you’re pretty sure you’re blushing, but honestly, you can’t find it in you to care when you are, in fact, basically sitting on his lap. Besides, Bakugou doesn’t look that much better. “If you were that big while soft, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed by now.”

Well that catches his attention. A smug smile stretches across his face. All teeth. “You spend a lot of time looking at it, angel?” Oh, this time he’s definitely mocking you. The palms of his hands slide up your thighs until his fingertips graze the hem of your skirt where it’s hiked partway up your legs, revealing a few tantalizing inches of your bare skin.

“Oh, no, you aren’t changing the subject,” you snap at him, sitting up a little straighter. “Why the hell is your dick so big, and what the fuck is going on?”

Your questions echo awkwardly through the otherwise silent room. For a tense moment, Bakugou just glares up at you. One of his eyes twitches slightly, his lips turned down in a grimace. You don’t relent, glaring right back at him. Eventually, one of you is going to have to give in, and it’s sure as shit not going to be you this time.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back against the floor. His fingers bite into your thighs when you shift on top of him, leaning a little closer. “It’s that dumbass villain’s quirk,” he sneers, baring his teeth in a snarl as he opens his eyes again. There’s nothing that could possibly prepare you for what he says next. “When I lie my cock gets bigger.”

You almost laugh. Almost. The deathly serious look in his eyes is the only thing that keeps you from bursting into a fit of giggles. And you believe him. You probably wouldn’t if you weren’t currently straddling his lap and sitting on his abnormally large cock. But, yeah. Sure. His dick gets bigger when he lies, and somehow that makes perfect sense.

“What, like some kind of kinky lie detector?” You almost suggest Pinocchio, but you doubt he’d take that well at all.

Predictably, he makes a face at your comparison. “Sure. Whatever.”

Again, neither of you say anything, letting an awkward silence develop between you. While Bakugou just looks all around uncomfortable with the situation, your brow is pinched in thought. Honestly, this quirk seems like some bullshit. You can’t imagine what benefit anyone would get out of making someone’s dick grow when they lie, aside from the exact situation you’re currently in. You almost feel worse for the poor sap stuck with such a bizarre quirk than the Pro Hero currently lying between your legs.

A full body shiver runs through you, and every nerve suddenly becomes highly aware of the man beneath you. Every breath he takes moves his chest beneath your hands, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm. The tips of his fingers ghost against your thighs, not quite touching you, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands anymore. And, suddenly, all you can think about are those hands grabbing you by the hips and grinding you down against him.

Unbeknownst to you, similar thoughts are wreaking havoc on Bakugou. From where you’re sitting on top of him, he has a perfect view of your legs and chest, and every time you shift, the movement goes straight to his cock. He almost hisses between his teeth as your thighs tighten around his hips, which only presses the growing bulge in his pants harder against you. His fingers twitch against your legs. It would be so easy for him to roll the two of you over, pin you beneath him, and show you exactly what you do to him. Fuck you senseless until you—

“What are you thinking right now?”

The question is like a hard slap across the face. His eyes snap from the apex of your legs to your face, caught red-handed. There’s no way for him to get out of this one without his dick giving him away or an actual slap across the face. He chooses his traitor dick. “That I want you to get the fuck off me.”

You look entirely unimpressed when his dick moves between your legs, growing larger in seconds. “Liar,” you deadpan. You drum your fingers against his chest, unintentionally matching the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll move.” Nevermind that he could definitely throw you across the room one handed if he really wanted to. Frankly, you’re a little surprised he hasn’t already, given your current situation.

Not that you want to move right now. You’re quite comfortable where you are.

Bakugou’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Those ruby eyes drag down your body slowly, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you sitting on top of him. An unexpected lick of run runs along your spine; your breath catches. “You look really fucking sexy right now,” he tells you, and his hands grab your thighs again.

It takes a second for you to register his confession, though you can’t say you’re that surprised. “Huh. Never pegged you as a guy who wanted someone on top.” You can work with that.

His brow furrows. “You know, you’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I work in quirk registration for the police,” you remind him, shrugging. “This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve come across.” Honestly, you aren’t even sure it makes the top ten, but you keep that to yourself. You get the feeling he’d take that as some kind of challenge, and you don’t need that kind of stress in your life. “How long has it been like this?”

A shrug. “Shit, I don’t know.” Bakugou shifts beneath you, craning his neck to look at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes, maybe. Why?”

“Effects from quirks like this typically only last an hour or two,” you explain. “Maybe twenty-four hours at most, depending on how much training the user has.” Your head cocks to the side as you give him an entirely unsubtle once-over. “It sounds like he didn’t give you and Kirishima much trouble though. I’d put your... little problem at an hour and a half maximum. You should be fine.”

There’s a wicked look in his eyes. “Nothing little about it, babe.” His palms slide up your legs, rucking up your skirt even higher on his way to grab your hips. “Hour left, huh?” A low hum rumbles through his chest. “I can work with that.”

You freeze. “Katsuki, what are you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off with an irritated sigh, “I’ve liked you for a long time, so if you want to fuck right now, that’s fine with me.” Heartbreaking honesty shines in his eyes, only partially masked by a layer of annoyance and boredom, like he doesn’t care either way. The way his fingers dig into your hips tells a different story.

Your eyes widen at his crass confession, your lips parting as you stare down at Bakugou in shock. “Are you…” you hesitate, swallowing down the sudden lump in your throat as your fingers curl against his shirt. “Are you serious?”

Bakugou glares at you, but his faint blush gives him away. “You’re the one sitting on my magic cock, you tell me.”

You sit there for a good minute, just staring at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of any kind of response. Eventually, you settle on, “That is, by far, the worst declaration of love I’ve ever heard.”

If you thought he was glaring before, it has nothing on the look he levels you with now. “Who fucking said anything about loving you, dumbass?” he snaps, huffing, cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink. “Like hell I do!” He grits his teeth as his dick tingles.

“Yeah, well, your magic cock reveals your deceit,” you mock him. “You’re such an emotionally stunted pain in the ass, Katsuki!”

He opens his mouth—probably to start yelling about something—but you lurch forward and meet his mouth in a fierce kiss before he can say anything. He grunts in surprise and squeeze your hips, but kisses you back eagerly, immediately tilting his chin for a better angle. The hands that were on your hips don’t hesitate to move. One slides up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you closer as the other drops to your ass. A hard grope makes you gasp against his lips, your fingers clenching tighter in the front of his hero suit.

Before things can get too heavy, too fast, you pull back, leaving just an inch of space between your lips. He doesn’t let you go much further. “I like you, too,” you whisper against him. He stiffens as your fingers touch his bare chest where his hero suit doesn’t cover him.

His heart is pounding just as quickly as yours, and he’d never admit it, but he swears your little confession does something funny to his chest. All of it does. The heat of your breath. The gentle weight of your body on top of his. Something about you makes him feel inexplicably soft, and he wants to hate that feeling, but he still can’t lie to himself without his cock growing two sizes. And if he’s going to stuff you full of his cock, he wants it to be all him.

At least at first.

With the hand still tangled in your hair, Bakugou yanks you back down. Your lips mold against his perfectly, the space left between you nonexistent. When he kisses you it’s all teeth and tongue, and your lips part readily beneath his demanding touch. He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat, slotting his lips harder against yours. Using the hand cupping the back of your head, he adjusts you above him, tilting your chin until he finds a position he likes.

The dominating way he touches you makes you keen, and your quiet whimper is smothered by his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. Your legs tremble on either side of his hips as the hand on your ass gropes you again. By now, your skirt is hiked halfway up your waist, and if anyone were to walk in they’d get a perfect view of your ass and the damp spot forming between your thighs.

You arch into his touch at the thought, moaning as his teeth tug at your lip.

By the time you pull away, you both have kiss-swollen lips.

When Bakugou recalls what you called him a moment ago, he chuckles, deep and throaty, and it sends a thrilled shiver up your spine. “I’ll show you a real pain in the ass later, sweetheart,” he promises, squeezing your ass cheek for good measure. The squeeze is followed by a sharp slap, and you lurch forward, a startled squeal slipping out of your mouth.

You glare down at him. Well, you try to. It’s a little hard to pretend to be mad at him when his hand comes up to rub the spot where he smacked you, which only presses your hips closer to his growing bulge. Your tone is dry when you say, “I’m sure you will.” And then, because he’s already propositioned you and has his hand on your ass, you grind yourself against his dick.

“Shit,” he grunts, grabbing your hips. His fingers bite into your skin, twitching like he doesn’t know if he wants to still you or shove you down on his cock. A slow exhale hisses through his teeth. “You tryin’ to be a cock tease?”

The satisfaction that bubbles up in you only feeds the damp heat between your legs. He’s hardly touched you, but you can already feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of him filling you. You brace yourself against him, palms pressed flat against his chest. “You want me to stop?” Purposefully fluttering your eyelashes at him, you slowly work your hand lower, fingers grazing over lean muscle until you stop at his waist, pressing down on his belt.

As your eyes start to follow the path of your hand, Bakugou reaches out and grabs your chin. A warning squeeze makes you mewl expectantly. “Keep talking, baby, and I'll put that mouth to better use.” The pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip. Before he can let go, you tilt your head into his touch, teeth barely grazing his finger as you nip at him. “Such a little brat,” he sneers.

You’re thrown off balance when he sits up. His abdominal muscles flex against your stomach as he crushes you against his chest, and your hands fly to his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. Bakugou kisses you again, lips hungry and demanding as they press against yours, and you give him complete control. He tilts your chin, pulls your hair, bites your lips, and every touch makes you feel hazy and warm.

Anticipation churns in your stomach. Your hands slide over his shoulders, looping around his neck. He grunts when your wrist brushes against the side of his neck, and when you card your fingers through his hair and tug, he lets out a sound that goes right to your core.

The hand on your ass gives you another sharp spank. The motion jerks your hips against his, and you grind down against the hard cock rubbing your inner thigh. His fingers knead your ass and the back of your thigh, groping and squeezing and helping your hips along as you rock languidly over his lap. Each roll of your hips has his cock dragging across your damp panties, the head kissing your clit through the layers of your clothes. You shudder, lost in the feeling.

You’re only half aware of him moving, not noticing until the hand that was in your hair slips beneath your shirt to palm your breast. An appreciative squeeze has you arching into him, hips stuttering against his. Bakugou nips at your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper, and when he pulls away you’re sure it’s swollen and flushed from his treatment.

But he doesn’t leave you for long. You’re barely given a moment to breathe before his mouth is on your jaw, your cheek, your chin. Bakugou trails heated, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, only stopping when he finds a spot that has you lurching against him, a pretty little moan falling from your mouth. He laves attention to that spot, right over your racing pulse. Teeth dig into your sensitive neck, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to suck, intent on leaving a mark. You don’t stop him as he works a hickey just below your jaw, eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation.

Before leaving that spot, he drags his tongue across your neck to soothe the bruise he’s left behind.

Desire curls in your chest as a thought comes to mind, and you’re too slow to stop it from spilling out. “I wanna touch you,” you choke out as his mouth trails lower. Bakugou pauses, lips hovering just shy of your throat. The heat of his breath fans your damp skin, sending little pinpricks of electricity all the way to where your hips are grinding against his. You swallow, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt as his thumb brushes against the lacy cup of your bra.

“Already are, baby,” he says, partly muffled by your neck as he ghosts his lips against you. “Grinding against my cock like a little slut. Gonna get yourself off for me just like that?” He’s hiding a smirk. It’s clear what you want by the way your hips roll against his faster, grinding down harder as teasing touches turn desperate, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you begging for his cock before he fucks you.

He ruts against you, alternating between squeezing your breast and ass.

“Bakugou!” You try to sound reprimanding, but his name comes out as a breathy whine. There’s no way for you to get your hand on him with the way he has you pressed flush against his chest. And he’s definitely not going to make things easy for you.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, the man beneath you laughs. “You want it that bad, you better take it yourself, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you try to put some space between your hips, but his grip is firm. Bakugou swats your ass when you try to move, and you whimper as it forces your hips harder against his. You try a second time, and he pinches your nipple through the flimsy cup of your bra. Your head falls back with a moan, giving him greater access to your throat, and he smirks as he bites down on your soft skin.

Fine. You can play this game, too.

With a sharp grind of your hips, you rub your clit against him just right. Your back arches. Your thighs tense around his hips. “Ground Zero,” comes out as a needy whine against his ear. You feel him tense beneath you, his grip faltering for just a second. That’s all you need.

The momentary distraction is all you need to slide back on his thighs, putting just enough space between your hips to grab his belt and grind the heel of your hand against the massive bulge straining against his pants. Even through his pants you can feel how thick and long he is, and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you senseless.

He grunts as you palm him, squeezing gently as you trace the outline of his cock. His mouth leaves your neck with a wet pop. “Shit,” Bakugou murmurs. Soft strands of his spiky hair tickle the side of your neck as he rests his head against you, reveling in the feel of your light touches.

Your fingers brush against the back of his neck, your palm grinding against him when his hips rock forward. Strong muscles flex beneath your thighs. Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow.

Unable to stop yourself, you duck your head, pressing your lips against the side of his neck. It’s hard to find an angle with the bracers around his neck, and your attention turns to the front of his throat instead. Bakugou groans as you kiss him, lovebites and lipstick stains left in the wake of your mouth. He lets you kiss and nip your way down to his collarbone.

Thank god for the low cut of his shirt, you think, biting down on his chest hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, your fingers grasp at his belt, nearly snapping the buckle in your hurry to get your hand on him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware of him saying something—calling you needy or naughty, you aren’t sure which—but you don’t care as you finally get your hand in his pants and grab his dick.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, eyes widening. The tips of your fingers don’t touch as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him languidly from base to tip. You can’t get a good look at him from your position, but you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft, and you bite your lip at the sheer girth of him. “Is this from the quirk?” you ask him, swirling your thumb over the tip before dragging your hand back down, giving him a firm squeeze. You lean back a little, wanting to look at him, but Bakugou lurches forward to get his mouth on you again.

He groans against your ear, pressing a harsh kiss against the side of your jaw. “All me, babe,” he tells you, smug. For once, you really can’t blame him for being cocky. “Fuck, that feels good.”

The way your soft hand slides against his shaft wrecks havoc on his brain, and Bakugou presses another heated kiss to your neck to smother a loud moan. He’s already painfully sensitive from having you hump his lap, and your tentative touch only makes him harder. And that damn quirk didn’t help at all. After over a half hour of that bullshit cock tease, he’s just aching to bury himself in your dripping pussy.

Your thumb traces the thick vein on the side of his cock, pressing against it gently before twisting your hand. The sudden change in angle and the way you squeeze him have a low sound tearing from his chest, and then your hand is being yanked out of his pants. Bakugou’s fingers clench around your wrist in a vice grip, and you wince at the mild sting.

“Get up,” he demands, nearly growling. His fingers are digging into your ass hard enough to leave faint bruises, but you don’t care. When you hesitate, he releases you only to slap the back of your thigh. “Now.”

You pussy clenches at the pain that quickly dissolves into pleasure. “What’s wrong, Katsuki,” you can’t help but tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him, “afraid you’ll cum too fast?”

He doesn’t spank you again, though his palm does press against your reddening ass cheek in a way that speaks of a warning. “Don’t make me tell you again, baby.”

It takes another second before you shift off his lap, your legs quivering as you stand. You almost consider ignoring the command. Almost. But it doesn’t take much for you to decide you’d rather see what he has planned for you.

Your thighs rub together as Bakugou rises from the floor in one fluid motion, years of training making him silent, almost catlike. He reaches for you as soon as he’s standing, towering over you, an imposing figure. The scattering of small marks on his throat makes you grin, but the smile is wiped from your face as he grabs your chin roughly between his fingers and forces you to meet his eyes.

Ruby red and blown wide with lust, the look in his sharp gaze makes your breathing hitch. A wet crackling sound leaves your mouth as your lips part for him. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he growls.

You stumble a little as he starts walking you backwards, not touching you aside from the firm grip he has on your jaw. You go willingly, eyes on his. Excitement has your stomach flipping, a nervous flutter in your belly, and you gasp when your back hits the side of his desk, the cold wood pressing against your skin where he’s tugged at the hem of your shirt.

Bakugou’s thumb delves past your lips, dipping into your wet mouth, and your lips wrap around him greedily. Sucking gently, your teeth press against his skin possessively, tongue laving attention to his thick digit. With his free hand, Bakugou grabs the front of your plain blouse and yanks it open, careful not to rip any of the buttons. You let your shirt fall to the floor, wriggling a little as it sticks around your elbows. He reaches up to palm your breast, humming in approval once he sees your pretty bra.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he tells you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and smearing your spit across your lips, watching them glisten. “I want to see your mouth on my cock.”

You do as you’re told, practically shaking with anticipation as you drop to your knees for him. Now that you’ve gotten a feel for his cock, you’re desperate to have him inside you. Your mouth. Your pussy. It doesn’t matter which. Any thoughts of playing coy or being a brat disappear into the back of your mind as he pins you with a harsh stare. Bakugou pets your hair, threading the soft strands through his fingers to hold you still.

You bite your lip as his free hand drops to his waist, Bakugou shoving his pants and boxers down just low enough for his cock to spring free. The size makes you swallow. He’s bigger than you thought. Thicker. And you remember how your hand couldn’t wrap all the way around him. Your thighs clench, rubbing together as a dull ache builds between your legs.

He doesn’t waste his time. Shifting forward, he palms himself, lazily stroking his cock with his own fingers, just out of your reach. When you try to lean forward, he pulls your hair, forcing you back again. “Such a little slut,” he murmurs, allowing the head of his cock to press against your wet lips, his hips slowly rocking back and forth. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, and he groans. “There you go,” he says, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face before he starts pushing his cock into your mouth.

You immediately close your lips around him, bobbing your head forward as much as his tight grip will let you. Bakugou feeds you his cock, sliding into your wet mouth slowly as you start to suck, letting you adjust to just how fucking thick he really is. His girth has your jaw stretched wide, forcing you to breathe slowly through your nose. You glance up at him.

“That’s it, angel,” he groans as you bob your head again, “suck my cock.” His hips rock forward in a shallow thrust; his eyes lock on your lips, stretched obscenely around his length. Wet trails of saliva stick to his cock as you pull back to swirl your tongue around the head.

Whimpering around him, you suck harder, swallowing around him, anything that might pull another filthy moan from his mouth. Your hands grab his thighs for balance, your fingers digging into his legs as you try to pull him closer.

You’re rewarded with a low moan rumbling from his chest. Bakugou’s eyes slip shut for a second, his head tilting back in raw pleasure. “Figures you'd be a perfect little cock sucker,” he says under his breath, almost too low for you to hear him. “I bet you want me to fuck your face, huh, baby?”

You settle for moaning instead of nodding, watching him through your eyelashes as he pants above you.

“Fuck.” A long, hissing exhale escapes through his teeth, and his hand tightens in your hair just a little bit as he watches you work his cock. You look so fucking pretty with your mouth wrapped around him, your lips slick with saliva as you take him deeper into your mouth. There are tears beading at the corners of your eyes. “Fuck,” he says again, “you feel so good.” He grunts. “How long have you been thinkin’ about sucking my cock, babe?”

You flush under his gaze, unable to answer with your mouth full of his dick, but the answer must be clear as day on your face. You don’t know what it is he’s thinking about, but you swear his cock gets bigger in your mouth, that strange quirk making him thicker so that you’re nearly choking on him.

Bakugou holds your head still as he starts to rock his hips; he moves slowly at first, his thrusts shallow and even, but he quickly picks up speed when you whine around his cock. It isn’t long before he’s fucking your mouth, thrusts as rough as you’d expect from someone like him. His cockhead brushes against the back of your throat, his hips stuttering as he holds you like that, your lips pressed nearly against the base of his cock.

Somehow, you manage to keep your eyes on him. You force your throat to relax and swallow around him. His eyes almost roll back at the sensation, but he keeps his ruby gaze locked on you, watching how well you take him. He can only imagine how good you’re going to take his cock, too. He speeds up again, groaning as the pressure in his gut starts to build.

His cock pulls from your mouth with a wet sound, and you cough, sucking in greedy mouthfuls of air. Bakugou drags you off the floor, and your startled gasp is cut off by his hand wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, unfortunately, just holds his palm there. The next thing you know, you’re being shoved against the nearest wall, your cheek pressed to the chilly surface as Bakugou all but rips off your skirt, leaving you in just your underwear and shoes.

The fabric pools on the floor in a crumpled heap, and Bakugou kicks it aside in order to spread your legs from behind. You brace your hands against the wall, ass out, and he’s on you in a second.

Teasing is thrown out the window as he finally—finally—touches you. One of his hands reaches around you to grope your chest, palming your breast roughly before shoving the cup of your bra aside to tweak and pinch your nipple. You’re a panting, whining mess by the time he gets his hand between your legs. Two thick fingers drag over the crotch of your panties, and he actually laughs when he feels how wet you are. “Shit, you get that horny just from sucking my cock?”

Blearily, you nod, pressing your pussy closer to his hand. Bakugou shoves your panties to the side, fingers skimming through your wetness before rolling over your clit. You nearly sob at how good it feels to have him touch you. It’s like his hands were meant to please you, big and rough, his calloused fingers providing the perfect amount of friction. Each precise stroke of his fingers feeds the knot in your belly, keeping you right on the edge of coming undone.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good on my cock,” he tells you removing his fingers from your clit to squeeze your ass. His cock quickly replaces his hand between your thighs, his thick length rubbing against your slick pussy, the head bumping against your clit with every stroke. Bakugou lets go of your breast; his hand slaps against the wall beside your head for balance. “Pretty cunt squeezing around me. That what you want?”

“Please. Oh, please,” you mumble. Anything to get him inside you. It almost hurts how turned on you are right now. From the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the hem of his shirt, about to pull it off. “Don’t!”

Bakugou goes absolutely still at your sharp cry. The only movement is his eyes snapping up to meet yours, flooded with concern as he checks to see if he’s hurting you.

But you whimper, trying to shove yourself back on his cock. “Don’t take it off,” you clarify breathlessly, legs quivering with the effort of holding yourself up.

The concern bleeds from his eyes, and they’re taken over by something dark and hungry instead as he realizes what you mean. He thrusts his cock between your thighs, your slick covering his cock as it drips from you. Your eyes flutter as he pressed against your clit again. “Don’t take what off?” He wants to hear you say it.

And you’re so painfully aroused that the words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop him. “Your costume,” you choke out around a loud moan. “I want you to fuck me while you’re wearing your costume.” That’s one dirty little fantasy you’ve had for a while, maybe ever since you met him. The thought of him fucking you while he’s still in costume is almost too much, but god do you want it badly.

“That so?” he drawls. His hand drops from his shirt back to your ass cheek, groping you before spreading you from behind. He takes a step back, ignoring your whine, and whistles when he gets a good look at your dripping slit. Bakugou tugs your hips back, forcing your back to arch for him. “What a naughty little slut. You got a thing for heroes, baby?”

Just you, you think, but all you can do is moan his name. “Bakugou.”

You cry out as he slaps your ass. “No, no, no,” he repremends. “That's not what you call me.”

“Katsuki, please,” you manage to whine around a harsh swallow.

He spanks you again. “Come on, angel, you know what to say.” It takes a second for it to click, but when it does you blush. “Fuck, look how wet you are.” He chuckles as he looks at your glistening thighs. Another love tap lands on your reddening ass. “You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes,” you mewl.

He spreads your legs open wider. “Yes, what?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, cheek pressed against the wall in front of you. “Yes, Ground Zero.” Your tongue runs across your bottom lip. “Sir,” you tack on.

“Good girl.”

There’s no warning as he adjusts himself behind you, cock slamming into you hard enough to steal your breath. There’s no resistance, you're so wet. You pussy clenches around him, your walls sucking him in deeper. That’s all it takes for an orgasm to rip through you, the knot in your belly snapping so fast that all you can do is let out a silent scream as you slump forward against the wall.

Bakugou is equal parts shocked and amused as you try to milk his cock, and he grits his teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, almost pulling him over with you. “Fuck,” he laughs. “You cum just from me filling you up?” You whimper and nod. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.”

He presses you closer to the wall, and his arm slips beneath your knee, lifting your leg and holding you open. Your thigh burns from the stretch. His cock drags along your walls slowly before, only the tip left inside before he thrusts back into you, reaching deeper.

He picks up a steady pace, slamming into you over and over. You’re already so sensitive from your first orgasm, and little gasps and whines keep falling from your mouth with every brutal thrust as Bakugou finds your sweet spot, hitting it perfectly as he pounds you. He’s thick and hard inside you, even bigger than he was in your mouth, and your eyes widen when you realize he’s doing it on purpose. “How big can you get?” you gasp, moaning as his cock expands inside you, filling you up completely.

“As big as you fucking want me,” he snarls back, fucking you faster, hiking your leg up higher.

All you can do is hold on and take it.

You don’t know how much time passes, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and his harsh panting against your ear. Sweat drips down your back where he’s sliding over you, and his fingers bite into your thigh as he almost loses his grip. “You know whose office is on the other side of this wall?” he asks suddenly. “Answer me, baby!” A particularly harsh thrust follows the demand.

“No, Sir,” you pant.

“Fucking Deku.” He grits his teeth as that now familiar tingle goes right to his cock, but you don’t seem to notice the lie. “You think he’s in there right now? His desk is right on the other side.” You pussy squeezes around him, and Bakugou moans against the side of your neck. “I bet he can hear you in here panting like a whore as I fuck your slutty little cunt.”

Your back arches into him, the revelation reigniting the fire he lit inside you. That knot comes back, just as tight as before, and you tremble as you realize he’s going to make you cum again. “Ground Zero,” you whine.

He lets go of your thigh, but keeps your knee hooked around his elbow. His hand snakes around your hips to rub your clit, and you jerk against him. “He’s got some new intern, too. Some little high school brat.” A high-pitched, needy sound falls from your mouth. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name.” He rolls your clit harder between his fingers, and the heat rolling from him is so sweltering that it’s hard to breathe. “Shit, you’re gonna be filling this kid’s fantasies for weeks. He’s probably gettin’ off to you right now.” His cock gets bigger inside you; his hips grind against you harder. “But your pussy’s mine, angel. Got that?”

You nod, delirious.

And, fuck, he just doesn’t stop talking. “You gonna cum?” he asks, fingers moving faster over your clit. “Gonna cum from thinking about Deku and his intern listening to me fuck you?” You shudder and gasp, shoving yourself back on his cock in a weak attempt to match his brutal pace. “That’s it, baby, cum on my fat cock. Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good. I wanna hear you scream so fucking loud that everyone in this goddamn building knows my name.”

Bakugou pinches your clit. Your eyes slam shut, body locking up as he throws you into another powerful climax. “Katsuki!” you shriek, his name ripping from your throat in a raw scream.

This time, he doesn’t hold himself back. A series of harsh thrusts drag out your orgasm until you’re sobbing, a few tears slipping out and rolling down your cheeks. His cock twitches, swelling, and he shoves inside of you as deep as he can go before cumming inside you, his thick seed filling you up and dripping down your thigh.

He doesn’t pull out, leaning his head against your shoulder as you both try and catch your breath. Bliss washes over you as he kisses your neck, mumbling a string of garbled praises against your ear.

You blush when something he said hits you full force, finally able to process it now that he’s not fucking you senseless. “Midoriya,” you gasp, trying to crane your head around to look at him.

Bakugou presses more of his weight against your back, slowly lowering your leg back to the floor. His hands grasp your hips when your legs threaten to collapse beneath you. “Bastards office is on the other wall,” he says, calming you down. “‘Sides, it’s his day off.”

Relief floods through you. “You have absolutely no filter, do you?”

He shrugs, kissing across your cheek. “I don’t see you complainin’.”

You laugh a little breathlessly. “You made me cum twice,” you remind him. “I don’t give a shit what you were saying.” You shift in his embrace, wincing as his cock moves inside you. Fuck, you’re sensitive.

He stills you. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks. When he sees your obviously confused look, he gives you a shallow thrust, his cock still hard inside you. “Oh, angel, we’ve still got thirty minutes, right? We’re just getting started.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnhabookclub #mha #bnha #bnha smut

8K notes · View notes