#'rosie's gonna wonder why the fuck you settled w/me.'

[gctchell]

@damnedrainbows said:

sent you another lol alastor: I have claimed the cat

husk: you're gonna regret that. we're gonna be like this before the event's over;

[aenaxes]

chasing fountains

[fives x afab!reader] it's so easy to forget that the man you love is war incarnate. and maybe that's exactly why he can't be yours.

warnings: nsfw, angst, breakup sex, cunnilingus, unprotected vaginal sex

w/c: 2.6k

a/n: wrote this while listening to the reverb edit of good days by sza and definitely didn't cry idk what you're talking about

"Are we gonna be adults about this, or are you gonna give me the silent treatment until I guess what I did wrong?"

Fives's tone is no longer a novel sound in the dark walls of your apartment, a jagged sneer sawing through the silence as he sets his helmet down hard on the countertop. It's the kind of sound that doesn't cut deep but cuts wide, leaving a broad swath of gnarled scar tissue that will never heal quite right. (The worst kind.)

The holodrama in front of you drones mindlessly over the midnight channel.

You tell yourself that you've grown used to it, the cold and bitter thing that found home between you after the rosy light he flooded into the room faded away leave after leave, tour after tour. It helps you cope. But your body remembers what your mind tries to forget—memories of first leaves in months and boyish glee as Fives swept you into his arms and kissed you breathless in the narrow berth of your kitchen—and you flinch anyways.

"Isn't it obvious?" you sigh. It's a labored thing that crowds the bottom of your lungs up to your collarbones and chokes your throat with what's left of your straining heart.

You don't think it's anger.

It's something muted, something like the ache of a rusted plasma turbine sputtering out what last dregs of fuel it has left, numb and rote but the only thing it's ever known before it careens off the side of a landing bay and into dark waters. It happens, disrepair, discord. But the fact that it happens somehow makes you feel even worse, makes it feel like it was bound to happen.

"No, cyare, it's really not," Fives frowns.

You can hear the scowl in his voice.

"You forgot to call," you mumble, shifting your arms tighter over your chest, and you aren't sure whether the pressure in your chest is anger or the desperate claws of sorrow trying to remind you that you used to care. That he used to care.

"Cyare, I'm sorry I forgot to call, but I was in an active warzone. I can't just call you whenever to tell you goodnight because I'm usually writing condolences to the training squads of the men I bury."

You can hear the anger tearing at the fine threads of his restraint, his voice rising and rising until it's another sound away from a full-bodied yell. Before now, that sort of volume, that sort of presence, had been exclusive to late-night speeder bike joyrides and chasing fountains of youth over sandy dunes—the types of adrenaline rushes that felt good. You wonder if it's now become resentment or regret or a combination of both.

"You forgot to call for our anniversary," you say at last. Maker, you can't believe how pathetic you sound.

"I'm sorry, but I almost lost my entire squadron out there. I have to prioritize... differently, on the field," Fives says after a moment's pause (so he really did forget), his voice soft again but no less cold, no less tired of raising hellfire and being greeted with an impassive glaze over your eyes.

Silence settles through the room again, thick enough that the holodrama playing before you is reduced to a low buzz, and you tell yourself that your fingers feel numb because you always let the air conditioning run colder when Fives was on tour.

"Look, I'll try to make it up to you next time, cyar'ika," Fives murmurs, picking across the threshold and dropping down onto the couch beside you.

You aren't sure if there ever will be a next time when Fives only exists because of this endless war that cracks open the earth and swallows battalions whole. But when you drop your head onto his shoulder; when he tugs you close and cradles your head with a rough, warm palm; when you both pause and breathe the same breath together, you can pretend for just a moment that things are good again.

"'m tired," you mumble.

"What can I do?" It's the most earnest his voice has been all night, seeking gaps in the armor, places where he can reach in past the stony impasse and to that pearlescent light you've long since hidden from him. It's the closest to an apology you'll get.

"Take me to bed," you say.

Fives gently untangles you from around him, clicking off the holo before he secures his arms beneath you and carefully lifts you into his arms. Bittersweet memory, fragrant and dusted from months of disuse, floods your tongue as you loop your arms around Fives's neck and feel him press a kiss to your temple.

It's muscle memory, really. Nothing more. But it completes the little show of normalcy. It shifts you away from the hazy fugue of the present and back into better days when touch carried with it tender intent, more than ritual motion.

Fives presses a second kiss to your neck when you reach the bedroom door, mouthing his dry lips softly over your pulse. You cling to him and sigh. A third on your jaw, the next on your cheek, and another, another, another over your lips as he shifts you upright and lets you wrap your legs around his waist so you can tilt your head and push your tongue into his mouth.

It's muscle memory when, after he's thrown his armour off into the darkness of your room, you shift your hips down against his, gasping softly over his tongue as you catch the bulge in his blacks and heat floods your core. He groans into your mouth, fisting one hand in your hair and kissing you so hard it's almost crushing. It's muscle memory.

"Fives," you breathe, and it's becoming harder to tell performance from truth as something else hums in your chest.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips. "I'm right here, cyare. I'm always gonna be here." And the way he says it almost makes it believable.

You kiss him before he can say anything else, your teeth clacking against his as you swallow his words with a low moan, too afraid that if he says any more, you might actually convince yourself that this is more than an elaborately rewound memory.

Fives is no fool.

He knows, too, laying you carefully on the bed where he would usually toss you onto the mattress with a gleeful laugh and tumble in after you. In the darkness, you catch him hastily twisting out of his top, the low light catching over rippling muscle and warm skin before he rushes between your thighs and drops to his knees. He kisses the soft inner skin of your thighs like he always does, but this time, he does not linger instead kissing you for the sake of motion than playful desire.

This is choreography.

But performance as it might be, you do not need to pretend your pleasure when his heady exhale over your clit serves as a brief warning before Fives licks a broad, wet stripe over your cunt.

In the early days, you had been eager to chalk it up to the end of the gilded shimmer of the honeymoon phase, an entry into a stabler shared life that would be just as sweet. You're not certain what you've become, he and you, but it isn't that.

Whatever you are now, it has no concern in this moment because Fives still knows how to coax pleasure from your deepest parts, finding your softest, most vulnerable places and calling you to something better than a frigid spat to welcome him home.

You clap your hand over your mouth as Fives wraps his lips around your clit, pulling a raw euphoria from your heaving lungs that has you moaning louder than you have in too long. He groans your name into your own skin, gasps, and delves deep again.

"Fives, Fives," you plead, reaching down to grope for his head in your blind pleasure.

"Cyar'ika?" Fives pauses only to respond then plunges his tongue back into the saccharine wetness of your cunt, feeling you jump and spasm around him.

"Fuck me," you cry over a groan, knotting your fingers in his hair.

"You didn't come yet," he murmurs into your skin, almost irritated, his voice thrumming straight to your core as you cry out again.

"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter," you chant. The intimacy will only prolong the ordeal of greed, will only make you want more when you're already drowning under the weight of what little remains now. "Need you inside me, please."

Fives hums his assent, curls his tongue into your cunt one last time, and leaves you with a ghost of a kiss pressed over your clit. He staggers up off his knees, hardly bothering to lick your slick smeared over his lips—to savor it with the mischievous delight he no longer shares before you—and cups the back of your neck to pull you into a crushing kiss that might almost be painful if you weren't so desperate to soak up every last touch he has to give.

"Tell me if it hurts," he says like he has every time he's pulled you into his arms and parted your thighs. Except this time, there is no lingering gaze, no silent professions of something more than physicality in a moment of heat. Fives only kisses you one last time before he buries his nose in the crook of your neck.

This is a performance, you tell yourself as you press close.

And then he's pushing into you, stretching you open around him and filling you in every way you forgot that you needed, in the way only he could as he cages you between his arms.

He sets a pace that is altogether the same and yet nothing like how you remember him. You're playing out something you had done before arguments lasted weeks and couches became occasional beds. Yet it feels just like the real thing, his thighs sticking to the skin of your ass as he plunges up into that spot that whites out your vision and curls your toes tight.

It feels so real that if you squeeze your eyes shut and release the tension coiled at the base of your neck, you can pretend that when you meet his eyes, Fives will flash you the smile that crinkles around the corners of his eyes and bubbles laughter from his chest.

Instead, he shifts your ankles from the base of his spine, his brows knit tight and his chest heaving as he hefts your legs over his shoulders. You sob as he fucks into you harder now, hard enough to nearly fold you in two and fill the bedroom with the sharp clarity of his skin pressing into yours. You wonder if it's to crowd you close, to mold himself as close as he may ever be and take one more fleeting taste of you.

"Fives," you cry out one last time, the flared ridge of his cockhead catching your clit as he pulls out.

Desire crests so high in your core you almost feel sick with want for more. You cling to the feeling, committing to memory what you will later try to scrub away: how you flutter around the ridges of Fives's cock, how he fucks you in the way only months of true, genuine desire would allow him to know, how when your legs jerk and he lathes his tongue your shoulder that you might have called this love.

It's ironic how that's the one thing that crosses your mind when you squeeze your arms around his neck and come with a strangled sob. His hips connect hard with yours, fucking into you in one swift motion that has your back arching off the sheets. You blindly kiss over the coarse stubble of Fives's jaw, and it crushes the air from your lungs as he takes your chin in his hands, all gentle and trembling restraint, and kisses you so sweetly it burns.

A few more sloppy thrusts, and Fives bows his head low and pushes deeper than he has all night. Groping over his shoulder for his hand, he frantically laces his fingers with yours, squeezing tight. And when you squeeze back, you hear him make something of a moan and a sob pushed into one as he finishes inside you.

He overwhelms you with one last gesture of him as you pulse around his softening cock, and you can't help how you look to him with stars in your eyes, just like before, just like how it was supposed to be. He notices—opening his eyes to reveal something forgiving and warm—but before whatever it is drags you both into its inescapable orbit, he takes you into his arms and collapses onto his side.

Fives pulls out of you with an obscene noise, something you might have laughed at before the thorns of distance had grown long and sharp between you. You only sigh at the slow drip of his come sliding over your skin and pooling over the sheets as he pulls out.

For a while, you lie there, the sheets kicked to the foot of the bed and your cheek pressed to the sweat-slicked skin of his chest. You don't remember what you would do to fill the buzzing silence of afterglow, but you remember it felt better than what you're feeling, the slow descent of gilded curtains in a dark room, falling, falling.

Fives takes the guesswork out of it for you, though. There's a semblance of real tenderness when he kisses your brow and shifts away just enough that he can't meet your eyes but instead can keep you close enough to touch.

"When's your next tour?" you whisper into the quiet as he lifts his hand to your face.

"I have a week of leave," Fives responds. He traces his fingertips over the highest points of your cheeks and nose, memorializing in touch what the darkness tucks away.

"Where to?"

"Ringo Vinda." His fingers curl over your chin, cradling you to his skin before he slowly sweeps them up the edge of your jaw.

"That's far," you say.

"Not too far," he chuckles, hollow and weak as he runs his thumb over your ear. "I can still call you at night."

"You don't have to."

"I want to, y/n."

"Don't," you whisper, and you hear his inhale catch in his throat.

It's where this entire evening has been going from the moment he stepped foot into your apartment until now: one final, cresting movement pressed into the absence of space between you, impossibly wide and impossibly close all at once as Fives's hand stills over the skin just beneath your eye.

"Don't call?" He knows his answer, but he says it anyways, desperate rhetoric clinging to something that has already been gone for months.

"Don't," you manage to say over the heat in your eyes and the asphyxiating swell at the back of your throat. "Please."

There's still a part of you that wants him to fight. Wants him to rear back, raise his voice, and look you in the eyes to say horrible things to fight for the sum of you and him like he always has. Because it isn't right for it to end like this, a lonely blip over the comm channels that cries once then blinks out forever. It isn't right.

But you're tired.

"I'm sorry." Your calm breaks with a trembling sob.

And when pries his fingertips from your face to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you close, you know it is the last time you will fly this close to the sun; the last time you will bear witness to the glorious, warm light that had only soured in the time you shared.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup.

"It's okay," Fives's voice rumbles under your ear, backgrounded by tight, shallow breaths that only close the vice tighter around your throat. "I'm sorry, too."

And you let him go.

(He doesn't call.)

[sabraeal]

Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We’re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don’t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

[lovinkiri]

Yours, At Last

Ask: Noncon Male!Reader x Toga with BDSM and dirty talk. And sex toys.

Warning: Dirty talk, slight BDSM, pegging, and NONCON so do not read if it makes you uncomfortable.

I mayyy have gotten carried away 😳🤭

@flamflingo

You sighed in exhaustion. The train you'd boarded was crowded, everyone shoving into someone, sometimes on purpose and sometimes by accident. You were on your way back from the the bar, a bachelor party. Your good friend, Katsuki Bakugou, was getting married. 

Yes, Katsuki Bakugou, the most stubborn and hot-headed person you had ever met, was getting married first. You were happy for him and you showed as much tonight. Katsuki was also a good person deep down, you knew this. But still, it couldn't help but make you wonder if you'd ever find that person. 

You'd snapped out of your thoughts as the train announced you station. As it slowed to a stop, you pushed towards the door with mumbled apologies. Apparently, an apology didn't mean much. An obviously agitated old woman shoved you, pushing you straight out of the door and into Toga. 

Quickly catching your own balance, you caught her, your hand on her lower back. She looked at you with rosy cheeks and almost sparkling eyes. "A-Ah.. Sorry about that." You let her go and bowed your head. Giving a small giggle, she took your chin and lifted your head. "Oh, don't worry."

With a small nod, you pulled away  from her and walked off. You ran into Toga often after that and you felt your relationship stronger with each conversation. That is, until you caught her stalking you at work. She said that ever since she'd net you at that train station, she'd simply wanted to know more about you. So rather than ask, she decided to watch.

What you didn't know was she'd been watching you longer than she admitted. Before you'd even met her at that train station. But she'd never tell you that.

It didn't matter though. You were creeped out either say. There were do many red flags going off in your head that you chose to end your friendship, telling her to keep her distance and ignoring her pleas.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"C'mon, baby! Wakey, wakey!"

Groaning, you stirred from unconsciousness. You felt sore, uncomfortable. And you weren't sure why until you allowed your eyes to flutter open. Seeing Toga's love stricken face was enough to bring out the reality of the situation. You lay in you're bed, hands bound behind your back. 

"Toga? What the hell, get out of my apartment!" You struggled with the cuffs around your wrist, looking away from her. You didn't hear the shuffling of her clothes being discarded. "Y/n, baby.." She practically dung as she climbed over you. You couldn't help but blush at her exposed body. "T-Toga!" 

She grinned and sat over your crotch. "Oooh, I like it when you say my name, Y/n! I've been waiting for this, you know!" With that, the needle of a syringe was in your waist in a second. Too shocked to react, you watched her with wide eyes as she pressed the down on the plunger. 

In only a couple of seconds, your legs were numb. "What.. Did you do to me..?" You asked shakily. She smiled at you, something you'd think was cute about a month ago. "I just don't want you to kick me. It'll wear off soon though. By then, you won't be kicking though." She laughed towards the end, like it was a joke. Like this was a joke. God, you hoped it was.

Your hopes fell as Toga ground herself into your clothed cock. You could practically feel how wet she was through your sweatpants. Toga moaned softly as her clit pushed against the fabric. "Mmm. I can't wait to get these clothes off of you." She grinned.

You tugged once more at the cuffs, not liking that despite the circumstances, this was getting you hard. It'd been do long since you'd had sex that your body immediately reacted to the attention. 

"Is this your first time too? So romantic!" She panted, a grin still present in her face. Rather than tell the crazy chick the truth and ruin her happy mood, you instead chose not to answer the question. 

"I don't think I can wait anymore. I really want you." She lifted her hips and tugged down your sweats enough for your dick to spring out. Sitting on your thighs, she admired it, giving slow strokes. "That looks.. Really tasty." She said with a breathy laugh. You watched as she leaned down, wrapping her pink lips around the tip. Running her tongue around it, she moaned softly. You groan left your lips as you held back from bucking up into her mouth.

Pulling off with a 'Pop!' She smiled at the sound before moving further up your hips, positioning you at her entrance. "W-Wait, Toga! Don't you want this to be special? More romantic?" You pleaded. She titled her head to the side and laughed. 

"Silly. If its with you, it's already special." She slowly sunk down, the tip of your cock pushing into her tight hole. She winced and bit her lip, but didn't stop until you were fully buried into her. 

Once full, she sat and regained herself before slowly grinding. You bit your lip and gripped the cuffs, moving your upper body as much as could you. You didn't want this to feel good. You didn't want this at all.

Pressing her hands against your chest, started to bounce. It wasn't long until she was a moaning mess. "Oh my god, oh my god." She whimpered softly. A moan pushed past your lips. "Fuck.." You mumbled. 

As expected, she was tight around you. Her warm walls seemed to suck you in with every drop of her hips. She allowed her fingers to pinch and squeeze at your hardened nipples. "Please.. S-Stop.." You grunted, earning a giggle that turned into a moan. "You know you want it baby.. You were so hard for me." She cooed mockingly.

It didn't take long for her cum, her head falling forward as she her walls tightened. "Yes, yes!" You groaned, not too far yourself. It seemed she new that because she bouncing didn't stop. Of course it didn't stop. Toga's always been full of energy. 

"I-I.. Not inside.. C-C'mon, Toga, not inside.." You begged. She shook her head. "I need it inside, I need it. Give it to me, baby, please." She whined softly. You groaned loudly, bucking your hips up into her as you came. She gasped and stilled, her mouth hanging open as you filled her up further.

As things settled down, it was quiet, both of your panting filling the room. She slowly pulled herself off, moving to her clothes and sliding on her panties. You watched her, so many thoughts filling your head.

What was her plan? What was she gonna do? What if she got pregnant? Were you ready for that? You didn't think so. Neither was she. What was the plan? 

You watched as she picked up a bag you hadn't noticed when you woke up. Your eyes widened as she pulled out a strap on. The dildo attached was purple and long, thick with bumpy ridges on the sides. She attached his and you shook your head. "Oh God, Toga please.." You whispered, though you knew it was worthless.

She giggled softly and walked over, ball gag in hand and strap on attached. "Open wide and I'll think about it." She grinned. With hesitance, you opened your mouth for what you thought the ball gag. Then the dildo was stuffed in your mouth. You sputtered around it, gagging and choking. 

"Shh, shh. Through your nose, babe." She gently tapped your nose. Closing your eyes, you were slowly able to switch your breathing to your nose. Climbing over as that her knees rested on either side your neck, she grabbed the headboard and started thrusting into your mouth.

You whined around the dildo, obviously embarrassed. Your mouth became covered in spit and you struggled to keep up with her thrusting. "You're so cute like this." She swooned softly. You gave another whine, your pride diminished into nothing. Then she fully pushed into your mouth. You gagged loudly but stayed still. Squirming would just make this worse and the situation was bad enough as it was.

Slowly pulling out of your mouth, she gently praised you. "That's a good boy. You sure you haven't done this before? You're so good at it." 

You didn't get a chance to answer before the ball gag was in your mouth. Exhausted, you laid there and accepted it. It wasn't until she moved between your legs that you shook your head. She spread your still numb legs. "At least its all lubed up now." She joked.

You narrowed your eyes at her before closing them tightly as she pushed in. "Mmm!" You groaned. She leaned down and kissed at your neck. "You're so tight, Y/n." She mused softly. 

Once she bottomed out, your head fell to the side. He tip of the cock pressing against your prostate was amazing, causing you to once again curse yourself for enjoying this. 

After a moment, she gently rocked her hips against yours. You gave a muffled moan and she started her actually thrusts. Your eyes rolled back slightly as the unfamiliar pleasure surged through you and to your cock. "You like that, baby? You like being fucked into the mattress, don't you?" She pressed gentle kiss to the corner of your lips. You only moaned in response.

"You're mine now, okay? You said you wanted to find someone, right?" She gave a particular hard thrust that made you cry out into the gag, giving a quick nod. She pressed her forehead against your chest. "And I'm taking such good care of you. I mean, so what if I watched you? It's just because I care. That's why I'm doing this. You don't want to be alone forever." 

It was odd. Everything she said started to make sense to you. No one had ever gone that far for you. It made you feel special. Everyone around you got so much attention and you sat in the background, ignored. And for once, an attractive girl likes you and you turn her away for following you around. She cared enough to do it. No, you didn't want to be alone forever. 

"I admit, it hurt for a while though. So be grateful I'm even giving you this." Her nails dug into your thighs and you whimpered, spilling muffled apologies and "thank you"s. She felt her smile against your flesh. "Such a good boy. Being so good, taking my cock so well." She cooed.

The feeling slowly came back to your legs. As she predicted,  you didn't kick her. Instead, you closed them around her hips. You were so close and Toga could feel tell. And what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn't give you what you wanted. The next thrusts were quick and deep strokes. Enough to make you moan out, pushing you over the edge. You moved your hips as best as you could as you rode out your orgasm.

Then, once again, there was only panting. Toga slowly pulled out before removing the gag. "Himiko.." You mumbled. She grinned, ecstatic to hear her first name leave your lips.

"Don't worry. You've got me now, Y/n. You'll never be alone again. Never."

[bakugoukatsuki-rising]

Can you give me a angrily pining Bakugou with an oblivious Midoriya, sprinkled with some making out and a happy ending?Your writing is awesome, btw.

Your wish is my command! Also, thank you so much you’re so sweet I love you!!!!!!!

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

“Dude, Bakugo.” 

The blond, who had been talking up until that moment, paused and scowled at the red head before him. Growling like an angry dog whose food had been touched, he barked in response.

“’The fuck? What!?” 

Kirishima sighed while shaking his head. 

“Bakugo, you’ve been talking about Deku for like...10 minutes straight. I get you don’t like him, but could you lighten up a bit?” 

“AH!?” Small explosions burst from his palms, but Kirishima simply sighed again and got up from the lunch table, already used to the fiery boys attitude. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he got rid of his trash and approached Deku, who was sitting on the other side of the large food hall with Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki. 

“Oh! Kirishima, hey!” Deku was the first to notice him, pausing before he could take another bite of his food. 

“Listen dude, could you like...talk to Bakugo or something? I don’t know what’s going on, but he seems to have an issue with you.” 

It was hard to decipher anything Bakugo had been going on about, truthfully. It was mainly mumbled incoherent cursing and badmouthing related to Deku, from what he could pick up. For the most part he tried not to feed into it, in hopes the rabid animal would settle down if he was ignored. Since that plan didn’t work, Kirishima decided it best to confront the green haired boy to get him to handle it.

An immediate look of confusion crossed Deku’s defined features, his emerald eyes shifting from Kirishima to just behind him and across the large building. Though he couldn’t see him well, Deku could tell just by the body language of the blond that he wasn’t very happy. It was of no surprise when Bakugo finally seemed to snap with a loud yell, popping off some explosions before storming outside. Deku and the rest of the table, along with Kirishima, sat in silence for a few moments. The rest of the students pausing for only a second before continuing with their light buzz of chatter. 

“Maybe they didn’t have what he wanted to eat today.” Todoroki chimed in, Iida and Uraraka doing their best to stifle their giggles at the light comment. Deku knew a bit better than that though, and with a soft sigh, he stood from the table and passed his remaining food to Iida and Uraraka. “You guys can have the rest, I’ll go see what’s wrong with Kacchan.” 

“Sorry about this Deku, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay Kirishima, I’ll figure it out.” 

Deku made his way outside after Bakugo, looking around to try and figure out where he could of gone. “Maybe to the dorms..” He muttered to himself as he started walking, jumping in surprise as a loud pop went off behind him. 

“Where ya goin’, Deku?” 

“OH! Ah, Kacchan! I was uh..looking..for you.” He squirmed a bit where he stood, unable to make eye contact for a few moments before finally raising his head and regretting it. There was, what seemed to be, pure hatred pouring out of the teen before him. 

Bakugo sauntered menacingly over to the other, who was still fidgeting and trying to figure out what actions he should take as to not anger his friend any further. 

“You got somethin’ you wanna say, shitty Deku?” 

Little pops traveled along his fingertips as he raised a hand, and Deku wiped some of the sweat from his forehead before straighten his back to face the blond head on. They were only about a foot apart at this point. 

“Kirishima told me you seemed angry, and that it had to do with me. I wanted to know if I did something to upset you.” 

“AH!?” Bakugo cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, lip raised as he snarled at Deku, but Deku was growing more comfortable now that he had been in the other’s presence for a few minutes. His main uneasiness always happened upon first interaction, but when he realized this was just Kacchan, the Kacchan he was so used to since childhood, he found it easy to relax and face him. 

“Let’s..go somewhere else to talk, Kacchan.” 

Deku didn’t wait for the hotheaded teen to speak before he took a step back and turned on his heel, heading in the direction of the dorms. Once there, and glad to find they were alone, he turned himself back around to face the other who had been growling and sputtering foul language the entire walk over. If they were going to talk, Deku felt he should respect Bakugo’s privacy and have them somewhere without others, since he knew it was hard for the blond to express himself in general, let alone in front of an audience. 

“Fuckin’ Deku, you’re so goddamn annoyin’, ya know that? Why can’t you just mind your business!?” As he spoke, nearly shouting, he took steps forward until that distance was cut to less than a foot this time, their bodies nearly touching as Bakugo leaned down toward Deku’s face, continuing to snarl like a rabid dog. 

“No one asked for your help, shitty Deku.”

“Kirishima did.” 

Deku could see the anger rising in Bakugo’s face as blood rushed from the base of his neck up to his hairline, dying his pale skin a light pink hue. It had been a while since Bakugo had approached him this closely, and Deku found himself taking in little things he hadn’t noticed before. The wrinkles underlining those sharp crimson eyes, and the wrinkles were also highlighted by the bags under his eyes. They were large, deep grey half circles extending down about an inch or so. Deku wondered if he hadn’t been sleeping well, and he wondered if it had to do with him. 

“If I did something Kacchan, you have to let me know. I can’t do anything about it if you just get mad.”

His voice was low, nearly a whisper, the other being so close to him was a bit overwhelming, and he could feel his heart beginning to quicken slightly. 

He also noticed how Bakugo’s mouth looked, and how as he spoke or growled or snarled, his lips would bend and shift appropriately for the expression; fitting each emotion perfectly. Deku had never paid such close attention to those lips, but now that he was, he found himself a bit fixated. Bakugo caught on.

“DEKU!” 

But before the teen could even react to the shout, he was thrown off by strong hands grabbing a hold of his shirt and yanking him forward. There was no time to process what had happened, but as his senses came together, he realized the situation. Their mouths had crashed together painfully, teeth scraping against sore lips as neither knew what they were doing. Deku grasped desperately to Bakugo as he struggled for breath and clarity. 

The blond paid no mind, aggressively forcing the other’s mouth open with his tongue, dominating the unexplored space as his own. Their breaths were hot and fast, saliva dribbling down Deku’s chin as his body began to grow weak under the overwhelming pressure that was Bakugo. His cheeks were hot to the touch, rosy pink shining brightly as blood rushed underneath his skin. Bakugo had tore a bit of Deku’s lip with his teeth in the collision, his tongue tracing the wound like a hungry animal, lapping up the iron tasting crimson. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Bakugo shoved Deku back, raising a hand to his own mouth as he panted, eyes narrowed.

When Deku caught his breath and truly realized what had happened, he stumbled back a bit, emerald eyes wide and ...worried. 

“K-Kacchan! W-..what was that!? Why would you..?” He could taste the blood now, running his tongue over his sore and swollen lip before wincing at the sharp sting it caused. The blond scoffed and shifted his gaze from Deku to the window that was nearest to them.

“I’ve been fuckin’ pissed lately, mostly at your dumbass, but I wanted to know why.” Wiping at his mouth, he turned his gaze back onto Deku, who was beyond confused at this point. 

“You’ve been gettin’ ahead of yourself when you’re fightin’, you keep fuckin’ yourself up and you’re gonna end up dyin’.” 

Slowly then Bakugo approached Deku and reached out a tentative hand, carefully placing it on the top of his head. With a bit more force, he ruffled those green locks, his usual sharp gaze had softened slightly. 

“Don’t go where I can’t reach you, shitty Deku.” 

None of this had clarified anything for the teen, but as Bakugo jolted in surprise at the sound of other people returning to the dorm, and quickly scrambled away from him to go yell at Kirishima for butting into business that wasn’t his, Deku found his heart beating with an unfamiliar heaviness. 

The sting of his battered lip had been replaced by a soft tingling, the lingering feeling of Bakugo’s warmth radiating through him and causing him to steam up again in embarrassment. Iida, Todoroki and Uraraka all took notice.

“Oh! Deku, your lip! Are you okay?”

“Did Bakugo do that to you?”

“Bakugo-kun! Violence was unnecessary!” 

“SHUT UP! I DIDN’T DO SHIT!”

All Deku could do was sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of his head as he shook off the concerns of his friends. Tossing a passing glance at Bakugo as their moment together faded, he held onto the feeling the other teens actions left in his chest, and the last words he spoke. 

Don’t go where I can’t reach you.

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

Anon, I wholeheartedly thank you for this prompt, this was so much fun to write. I really hope you enjoy it!

[petri808]

@kyoruweekofficial One Bed prompt

What do you do when you have two co-workers who obviously have crushes on each other, but neither have the guts to make a move? Well, according to Arisa Uotani, you make it for them. So, with the help of co-conspirator Saki Hanajima, the pair decide to play Cupid and stage a romantic intervention. For you see, Saki is the project manager at their company, and it was her job to schedule conference attendances for the employees. How lucky for them that the perfect opportunity presented itself. Oh, this was going to be good! They just wished they could have been there to see it.

The longer the hotel receptionist talked, the more Tohru could feel her ears burning and her cheeks turning a cherry tomato color. “W-Wait a minute, are you telling me we were booked into the same hotel room?!”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s what your company booked for you and Mr. Sohma. Four days in our honeymoon suite while you attend the conference. Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, there’s a problem!” Kyo Sohma, Tohru’s co-worker grits back. “Our company must have made a mistake, so change the booking to two separate rooms.”

“I’m really sorry sir, but the hotel is at full capacity because of the conference, so I can’t do that. If there’s a cancellation later, I could put in a request, but that’s all I can offer.”

“It’s okay, Kyo,” Tohru’s meek voice cuts in before the man has a chance to respond. “There’s nothing this lady can do and it’s just three days, so w-we can figure something out.”

He turns and realizes just how embarrassed his co-worker looked. Though her eyes were averted to the ground, her rosy cheeks, and the glow in her face, stops him cold. Fuck, she looked so cute like that! “Fine,” he feels the heat in his face increasing, “then just give us our keys please, so we can be on our way.”

Kyo takes hold of both their luggage handles, “grab it from the woman,” he tells Tohru and walks toward the elevator to wait.

“I’m really sorry,” Tohru apologizes to the receptionist. “This was a surprise for us.”

“Don’t worry, mistakes happen ma’am.” She placed the items on the counter. “Here are your card keys that includes the WiFi password on the sleeve along with instructions. If you require any extra amenities, do not hesitate to call the front desk for assistance. You’re scheduled to be here for three nights and four days, with check out at 11am on Thursday. Again, I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Not your fault.” Tohru politely thanks the woman and grabs the items, then joins Kyo to head towards their room.

While he waited, Kyo fumed over the whole situation. Being sent to the same conference as Tohru was the first red flag, but not completely out of the norm since they were working on the same project, so he’d chalked it up to coincidence. But now the receptionist said it was a honeymoon suite. Why would Saki book them a honeymoon suite! Rhetorical question, he had a pretty damn good suspicion on the answer. ‘Those two meddlers!’

“Kyo, I have the keys. The room is on the top floor.”

He’d been so focused on his mental dialogue, Tohru’s voice suddenly right beside him, catches him off guard. His body stiffens for a second as if caught in the act of a crime. “Great.” He acts like nothing’s wrong and hits the up button for the elevator. ‘Just... great...’

As soon as they walk in, the pair deadpan at the interior of the room. What did they expect when they’d heard the worlds ‘honeymoon suite,’ a normal hotel room? ‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me?!’ Kyo let’s go of the luggage handles and makes a visual sweep, before landing on the single bed near the window. Not only were they sharing a room, but sharing a bed, and a bathroom for four days! ‘They’re dead. Saki and Arisa are so dead when we get home!’ What the hell were they thinking by sticking us in this kind of a room! ‘If they’re so hell bent on hooking us up, have they ever heard of a blind date?!’

Tohru at this point was faring no better, but instead of frustration her emotions ran more along the lines of simple embarrassment. She was starting to realize that this whole situation was set up by their friends, and she didn’t know if she should thank them or never speak to them again. Because deep down, she was a little excited for this opportunity to be closer to him, and also terrified if Kyo happened to feel the same way. Saki and Arisa were adamant that the man liked her too, a lot, and maybe he, they just needed a push to get things moving. But this was a pretty big push!

“I could just sleep on the floor?”

“What?! No,” what kind of man does she take him for? “I’m not gonna let you sleep on a floor, that’s crazy Tohru. I-it’ll— it’ll be fine,” Adam’s apple bobbing hard, “it’s a big bed, w-we can make it work.” ‘Have to make it work.’

“O-Okay,” she smiles and pretends that everything really is so. If they were going to be stuck in this situation, they might as well make the best of it. “It’s a really pretty room.”

For that Kyo had to agree, and he wondered just how Saki was able to justify its rental in company records. The color ambiance screamed love and romance. Come on, a velvet red bed frame, matching love seat and contrasting white bedding. Red walls, red curtains, and dark cherry oak furnishings really heightened the overall affect. The full bar was definitely getting tapped tonight!

They go about their business pretending everything was fine, hanging up clothes and putting away their things, setting up the bathroom with their items in a ‘his and hers’ manner. If they were going to be stuck together, they needed to be civil and not let things get too awkward. Or so they hoped. At least they had things to prepare for the conference to keep busy, information to go over including a booklet that was sent ahead of time to familiarize themselves with the schedule. The organizers planned on break-out sessions for participants to meet with others working on similar ideas so they could bounce ideas off of each other. It was interesting add on considering these are competitors, but because green initiatives has been a focus for the government, they’ve pushed for more collaborative efforts.

When dinner time rolls around, the pair go to the hotel’s restaurant for convenience, since it was on the property. It had fairly decent reviews on its food offerings, and Kyo was more than ready to have a few beers to settle his nerves. They put the meal on a company credit card. Tohru orders a simple meal, but Kyo spares no opportunity to take full advantage of the most expensive offerings. ‘Saki can kiss my ass on the bill!’

He was quite surprised when Tohru ordered a glass of wine cause he’d heard she wasn’t much of a drinker. Kyo chuckles in his head, she probably needed a relaxer just like him. It irritated him a bit to know other guests probably assumed they were a couple. They sure did look like one, on a date, a romantic one at that, and he swore the server had almost asked, then changed their question at the last second.

By Kyo’s third beer, Tohru’s rosy complexion was really making it hard to stay professional. He knew it was just the alcohol working, but it made her look nervous and embarrassed in a first date kind of way. So innocently adorable, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. They managed to keep the conversation casual, but it was slowly becoming evident, they’d had other thoughts going through their minds.

When the server returns with their credit card slip, the man asks them if they were there for the conference to which they reply yes. “So, you’re co-workers, not a couple?”

“Yeah, why,” Kyo responds to the man.

But instead of answering Kyo, the server brazenly turns to Tohru instead. “I think you’re really pretty, and since I’m about to finish my shift, I was wondering if you’d like to go to a club with me?”

“Eh?” Tohru freezes, “I-I...”

Kyo stands up quick as a flash, getting right into the servers face. He jabs a finger into the man’s chest. “Fuck off guy, or I’ll report you to management!” He then grabs Tohru’s hand and pulls her away from the table, “let’s go!” Oh, he was so pissed! Co-workers or not, the balls on this guy to pull such a stunt right in front of him, what the hell was he thinking?! ‘He’s lucky I didn’t knock him on his ass!’

She knew better than to say a word and simply let Kyo pull her away towards the elevators. It was a little weird, wonderful, surprising, and frankly endearing for him to have defended her like that. Her cheeks were now heating up for other reasons, and the warmth of his hand in hers made her feel special. Did he realize he was still gripping tightly to her hand? Even as they stood there waiting for the elevator and the threat now over, he held on. As she watches his face carefully through her periphery, his serious expression wasn’t wavering. So, hoping not to startle him, and to avoid further embarrassment when he realized what he was doing, Tohru gently squeezes his hand back.

“Yeah?” Kyo’s eyes flare wide. “Oh!” Shit! He lets go. “My apologies.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles softly and keeps her voice low. “Thank you for defending me back there.”

“It was nothing,” he turns his head to hide his blush, mumbling a response. “That guy had some nerve interrupting us like that.”

Safely inside their hotel room, the pair preps for a quiet evening. Tohru changes into a comfortable set of pajamas, while Kyo sticks with a t-shirt and cotton shorts. Nothing racy at all. He offers her another drink as he grabs a beer and again is surprised when she takes another glass of red wine. “You know,” he questions as he pours the glass for her, “everyone said you’re not a drinker.”

She sits down on the bed and takes the offered glass, placing the rim to her lips as if to muffle her words. “I’m usually not,” Tohru answers honestly, but leaves out more details like she needed a bit of courage juice to make it through the evening.

Leaving about a foot of space between them, Kyo sits down on the bed as well. He takes a deep swig of the bottle. “Me neither.” Which was true, he only drank on occasion when he’d go out with friends. But tonight, it was keeping his nerves in check.

They sit there quietly in a companionable silence, sipping their drinks and lost in thoughts of what to say or do next. Kyo would never try to take advantage of Tohru, but the desire to make a move ate away at him, practically screamed to do something to break the stalemate. He’s had such a major crush on the sweet woman for so long, but he always thought he wasn’t good enough for her. As far as Kyo was concerned, Tohru was a perfect complement to his more outgoing nature, and yet deserved someone better. Their co-workers teased him so much about the crush too. Ugh, his cousin Hatsuharu kept telling him if he didn’t make a move soon, he’d steal Tohru. It was a hollow threat considering the man was already seeing another woman, but it still got under his skin.

He could still remember the day Tohru was hired to his family’s company. She was friends with Saki and Arisa, and they’d given the woman glowing reviews so the Co-CEO Shigure Sohma decided to give her a chance. Tohru walked into his office confused trying to figure out where she was supposed to go, and it was love at first sight. That was two years ago.

Tohru could feel the effects of the second glass of wine coming on stronger than the first one had hit her. Which is what she wanted to happen. It made her feel much more relaxed, but not quite drunk, and warmed up in the cooler air conditioning of the room. It wasn’t however, helping with the courage department. She wanted to ask him so badly, just to finally know where she stood, if Kyo had any romantic interests in her. What if he said no? But what if he said yes?!

“That guy was right...” Kyo suddenly breaks the stalemate. “You are very pretty.”

Eh?! “I, um, thank you,” Tohru sputters but goes for the gold. “You’re very handsome too.”

When he looks at Tohru, Kyo finds her staring at the floor with her adorable red cheeks on fire. He chuckles inwardly and places his beer on the nightstand, then reaches over and takes the glass from her, placing it on the table as well. It was now or never. He tips her chin up and forces her eyes onto him. “May I?” His eyes zero in on her lips, communicating his desire. She nods sheepishly with her approval, eyes closing as he leans in and places a soft kiss on her lips.

This wasn’t her first kiss, but it was the best one by far. His lips were so soft and pressured, his fingers gently keeping her from pulling away. They move from her chin to cradles her cheek, his thumb sweeping lightly against her skin as their heads change in angle. Oh, it was such a sweet move! It’d been worth the wait! As he pulls away, Kyo places one final kiss on her forehead.

“We probably shouldn’t rush things but,” he takes her hand and kisses the back of it, “is it too forward to ask if we could cuddle tonight?”

Fuck no! Tohru squeals giddily in her head, but on the outside kept her cool. She smiles and squeezes his hand back. “I’d really like that.” And reminder to self to thank Saki and Arisa when we get home...

[impala-dreamer]

Give

SPN FanFic

~Misha and Jared relax after work one night and things get a little...steamier than usual.~

Misha x Jared

2,984 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Friends to Lovers. Fluff, Smut, Angst. Oral and lots of kissing.

A/N: This is for my Size!Kink square for @spnkinkbingo​ and honestly I'm super proud of this and I hope you give it a chance. It will also be continued in two or three more parts because my brain is spinning. Anyway... Hope you enjoy :)

2019 Kink Bingo Masterlist ~ Feedback is Gold ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

“She wanted me to sign her boobs…” Jared paused for dramatic effect, eyeing Misha over the bottle as he tipped back the dregs of his beer. His friend simply sat back on the sofa, seemingly unshocked by Jared’s statement. “Her boobs,” he tried again, emphasising the Bs. “Boobs.” Last attempt, he motioned with his hands, cupping them in front of his chest.

Misha finally laughed and took a swig of beer. “You expect me to be shocked by that?” He shook his head and leaned closer to Jared as he dropped his voice to a husky whisper. “In Chicago three years ago, this woman insisted on giving me a lap dance for her photo, then slipped her hand down my pants and said, ‘I want you to be my baby daddy’.”

Jared choked on his last swallow, nearly spitting it out in shock. “Fuck, dude, what did you say?”

“I said, ‘no thank you’ and Chris helped me shoo her away. I think she’s banned from cons now,” Misha said with a shrug. “But we still email occasionally.”

That made Jared lose it and he laughed loudly, his body shaking, hair falling out of place and down into his misty eyes. “Holy shit, people are so fucked up.”

Misha sighed, watching Jared’s amusement, somewhat tranced by the redness of his cheeks and the sheen of beer on his lips. “Yes, yes they are.” As Jared calmed, Misha tore himself away and stood up from the tiny couch, reaching for Jared’s bottle. “Another?”

Jared nodded and handed off his empty. “Yeah, sure, why not? What’s a case of beer amongst friends?” He laughed again and stretched out over the cushions, tan fabric soft under his hands and the back of his neck. “I like this couch,” he murmured absently, enjoying the way the plush back cradled his head.

“Thanks.”

“Wait, wasn’t this Jensen’s?” Jared pondered drunkenly as he realized how easily his body sank into the sofa, as if the fabric remembered his weight.

Misha returned from the tiny kitchenette with two more beers. “Yeah, he was gonna get rid of it when he redid his trailer last year, but gave it to me instead. I think it works in here.”

Jared chuckled. “Dude gives you his old shirts, now his furniture…”

“So what? I like free stuff.” Misha popped the caps and handed Jared his drink. “Besides, it looks good. Goes with my decor.”

Mid-sip, Jared looked around the small room, wondering what he could call Misha’s decorating style besides ‘Flea Market’. “Yeah… right. Dude, this place is small.”

Misha scoffed, taken aback. “It’s not.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jared teased, swallowing half his beer. “It’s like a third of the size of Jensen’s.”

“Shut up. This is fine, thank you. I don’t need all that space anyway.”

Jared frowned and finished his beer. “Smaller than mine, too. Mine’s is like...so bigger.”

Misha rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“So what?” Jared shrugged and then pointed at Misha with his beer. “Ya know… it’s probably smaller than Alex’s…” Jared laughed and started to singsong his way through insulting Misha’s home on set. “Your...trailer is… tiny…”

Misha bit back a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Teeny tiny Misha trailer…”

“Are you done?”

Jared leaned close, long body covering most of the space between them. “My trailer is bigger than your trailer.”

Misha sneered and leaned towards him. “Well, my dick is bigger.”

Jared grinned so fully Misha thought his lips would rip. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re an ass!” Jared shot back, rather ineloquently, and snapped his wrist, slapping Misha in the arm, hard.

Misha looked down at the red mark on his left arm, shocked to be struck, and then blue eyes shot up to hazel. “Whoa! Jerk!”

Before Jared could yell back, Misha punched him straight in the chest.

“The fuck?” Jared gasped and then attacked, grabbing at Misha as beer bottles went tumbling to the floor.

Misha followed the bottles, hitting the thin carpet with a grunt as Jared tackled him. They fought with drunken hands that slipped into uncharted territories; bodies rolling back and forth on the floor, hard muscles pressing into backs and sides, bellies and shoulders.

Out of breath, Misha relented, laying flat on his back as Jared pinned him down. His hands were caught by the sides of his head, hips squeezed tight between Jared’s thighs. He looked up in awe as Jared smiled, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow.

“You give?” Jared asked, not willing to ease up until he won properly.

Misha struggled beneath him, twisting his wrists and wiggling his hips, but there was no escape; Jared had him. Misha’s heart stilled to a thundering beat as his eyes traveled down from Jared’s. His throat was thick and pulsing, his chest was huge and rocking with labored breaths, his arms, so big and strong, keeping Misha locked in place. His legs, wrapped so firmly around Misha’s waist, his ass...firm and pressing so hard…

Jared swallowed loudly and looked down in shock. “Dude, is that your dick?”

Hazy with booze and arousal, Misha blinked slowly up at him. “Hmm?”

“Mish-” Jared sat up a bit, unsure of whether or not to move, “you’re… your dick is…”

Misha smiled and jerked his hips a tiny bit, pushing his erection up against Jared’s ass. “Yeah. Does that bother you?”

Jared gaped and stammered, not sure what to say. “I...I don’t know...It’s just-” His hold on Misha relaxed and he sat back, allowing Misha to sit up as well.

“I’m not sorry,” Misha told him with an honest and sexy smile. “You’re… fucking gorgeous.”

Heat rushed through Jared’s entire body, settling in his already rosy cheeks. He struggled not to smile and looked away bashfully as he dismounted his captive. “What? No.” He sat on the floor with his back propped up on the couch, overcome by Misha’s obvious interest.

Misha sat up slowly and scooted back to sit next to Jared, turned inwards so that he could face him. “Yeah,” he assured him, “you know you are. Beautiful…” Misha lay his hand gently over Jared’s, relieved when he didn’t flinch away. “...and big.” He closed his hand around Jared’s long fingers. “These hands…” Misha bit his lip as he lifted Jared’s hand and placed it on his own chest, flattening the palm and splaying the fingers. “I want them all over me.”

Jared sucked in a quick breath and his eyes flit around the room, slight panic rising in his gut. “I… What?”

Misha lifted his free hand to cup Jared’s chin and bring his eyes back to focus on the moment. His cheek was stubbled and warm; Misha’s hand barely covering all of it. “You telling me honestly that you’ve never thought about it?” Misha smiled sweetly, leaning in to peer up at Jared through thick black lashes.

Jared’s heart stuttered, skipping more beats than the thought was possible. His eyes grew darker, pulled in by the sapphire; too much beer and Misha’s forwardness knocking him off balance. “I-I guess maybe. I don’t know.”

“Because I have,” Misha said quickly, running his rough though gently over Jared’s stunning lips. “Thought about it a lot. Can I kiss you?”

Jared’s breath caught. “W-What? I-”

Misha smiled and leaned closer still, dropping his voice to a sultry whisper. “Haven’t you ever been with a man before?”

“No.”

He could see the fear in Jared’s eyes as clear as the want in his parted lips. “So don’t think of me as a man,” Misha suggested, “think of me as your friend… and it’s ok for friends to kiss isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

Misha’s thumb moved away, replaced by the faintest brush of his lips and Jared gasped at the touch, his eyes rolling closed as Misha’s big lips pressed into his. The hand on Misha’s chest tightened, fingers curling into his t-shirt as Misha’s big tongue slid into his mouth.

“Fuck…” Jared sighed when Misha backed away, his eyes still closed, lips still moving with the ghost of his kiss.

“Not too bad, is it?” Misha asked, coy smile on his lips.

Jared shook his head and opened his eyes, zoning in on Misha and taking over. He pushed him back against the couch, hands rising to once again pin Misha down. He gripped his shoulders as he kissed him back, unsure of where to put his hands or what in the world he was even doing. All he knew was it felt good. Misha was solid, compact, every inch of him firm but somehow soft, and all Jared could think about suddenly was running his lips over all the velvety spaces on Misha's skin. He sucked at his lips, marveling at the scratch of Misha's heavy stubble against his cheek, wondering what the rest of him would feel like.

Misha lay back and let Jared explore; giant hands moving tentatively over the bumps of Misha’s torso, long fingers dipping into the sharp cuts of his hip bones. Misha wanted to grab him, force him onto his stomach and rip the loose jeans down his legs, but he held back, enjoying the heaviness as Jared lay into him, the bulk and size of him dwarfing Misha, making him feel so small and delicate.

“You feel so good,” he finally whispered, careful not to break Jared from the spell.

Thankfully, Jared was still caught and licked into Misha’s open mouth. “You do too,” he hummed. “Taste good too.”

Misha moaned, cock leaking in his jeans. “Fuck, Jare…” He couldn’t hold back anymore and grabbed Jared’s face between his hands, kissing him hard as he pushed back and tangled his fingers in Jared’s long locks. Jared fell back against the couch with a grunt, wind pushed out of him by the hard foundation. He stumbled to keep up, befuddled kisses landing wherever he could reach, hands clawing at Misha’s firm flesh through his clothes.

When Misha climbed into his lap, Jared all but melted, his head falling back against the seat, long neck exposed and glistening. Misha bent to it and sucked hard against his pulse, making Jared growl and mindlessly buck his hips. He reached up and grabbed Misha’s ass, digging his fingertips into the firm globes and squeezing as Misha bit down on his throat.

“Fuck!”

Misha smiled against his cheek. “Yeah. Shoulda done this a long time ago.”

Jared was stunned back into silence by the lust in Misha’s voice; how in the world was this even happening? How could he be OK with Misha slowly rubbing his tight ass over his cock? How the fuck did it feel so amazing?

“I...Jesus, Misha,” he panted, sliding his hands up underneath Misha’s shirt. “I- fuck, I need you.”

Misha rocked backwards a bit, pressing down just enough to make Jared suck in his bottom lip and moan. “Like this?” he asked, licking at Jared’s ear with the very tip of his tongue.

Jared’s fingers tightened on Misha’s back. “No...more…” It was the deepest whimper Misha had ever heard and his cock twitched at the sound.  

He pushed a hand down Jared’s stomach and popped the button on his jeans. “This?”

Jared breathed a heavy ‘yes’ against his lips.

“This?” Misha went on, sitting back an inch so he could lead the metal zipper downwards.

“Yes.”

Misha snuck his hand inside the open denim and rubbed his thumb down the top of Jared’s cock. “This?”

“Fuck! Please.” Jared’s bottom lip trembled and his head fell back again, overcome by the warmth of Misha’s hand, the feel of his calloused thumb pad running down his sensitive shaft. “Fuck. More.”

Grinning, Misha slid back, inching his way down Jared’s legs with a devilish gleam in his blue eyes. “How much more?” he asked while slowly lifting the hem of Jared’s blue and white plaid button down. He blew a stream of hot breath across the exposed flesh of Jared’s tight belly and lifted his eyes to see his reaction.

Jared shivered. “M-more…”

Misha ran his tongue across the black elastic band of Jared’s Saxx. “This?”

“Please…”

Misha wanted to strip him right there and bathe Jared’s cock with his tongue, but watching him crumble like this was far better. Something about seeing this giant of a man weak and begging turned Misha into a maniac. He tugged at Jared’s jeans, pulling them down off of his hips, but refused to move the briefs away, instead, running his open mouth up and down over the hefty outline of Jared’s massive cock.

Jared’s palms slapped the floor when Misha’s wet tongue pulsed against the head of his dick, pushing it down into his inner thigh. He moaned in pained frustration and jerked his hips, hoping Misha would take the hint. He did, carefully peeling down the damp fabric and humming in lustful admiration as Jared’s cock sprang up, free of the tight briefs.

“Fuck...you were right,” Misha laughed softly, his mouth watering, eyes wide and dark.

Jared hummed in question, eyes out of focus and glassy.

“You’re huge,” Misha growled, leaning his lips to kiss the beautiful cock presented to him.

Jared blushed but had no time for a cute comeback, damn near howling with pleasure as Misha’s lips ran over him. He held his breath, hands hovering over Misha’s shoulders as big pink lips spread around his cock.

“Oh, fuck.”

Misha shifted on his knees between Jared’s legs and sat up a bit, using both hands to pick up the slack as he swallowed what he could.

“Goddamnit, fuck!”

Jared grunted when Misha gagged and moved his hands up to fist through Misha’s hair; long fingers tangling in the black mess, grabbing tighter with each flick of his sinful tongue.

“Misha, fuck…”

He pushed down on the back of Misha’s head, forcing him to hold still while Jared thrust his hips upwards, fucking into his hot mouth as deeply as he could. Tears welled in Misha’s eyes but he held still, letting Jared have a moment to feel in control.

As Jared’s grip loosened, Misha pulled away; long, thick line of spit strung between his lips and Jared’s throbbing cock. He wrapped his fist around him, pumping quickly as he reached up for a kiss. Misha’s hand was hot on the back of Jared’s neck and he whimpered pitifully into his mouth, near to cumming, close to losing his mind entirely.

Beer bottles rocked next to him as Jared came, his right leg twitching terribly as Misha milked him dry, ruining the pretty blue and white plaid button down.

Misha kissed his moans away, tongue pushing into his mouth with every inhale; hand strong on his neck and gentle around his softening cock. He was savoring every second, memorizing the feel on Jared’s giant body beneath him, his soft lips against his, the heat, the smell of him.

Tomorrow when the beer haze had evaporated and Jared’s eyes were clear of the fog, Misha would only have this mental picture to look back on.

Finally, slowly, Jared pushed him away, his cock too sensitive for anymore contact. He hissed as Misha bit down on his bottom lip, sucking it hard as he backed off; a final goodbye.

They sat in silence for a moment, shoulders touching, backs against the couch. Misha was hard as a rock, but he wasn’t going to push; he could take care of it later and a thousand nights to come with the image of Jared’s eyes rolling stuck in his head.

It was Jared who spoke, mind coming back after a long pause. He tucked himself back in his jeans and wiped a bit of cum from the back of his hand on his already splattered shirt.

“Well, um…”

“Yeah,” Misha said with an awkward laugh. He chewed his lip and watching Jared from the corner of his eye, momentarily terrified of what he would say.

Jared raked a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. “That...was…”

Misha’s phone rang, interrupting Jared and breaking the moment. He rushed to grab it from the little side table, nearly falling over Jared in his haste.

“Hello?” He was watching Jared as he answered but turned away now, hiding his face while he listened. “Yeah, I’m still here...no, no, had a few drinks with Jared is all…”

Jared watched Misha’s back tense as he spoke, his entire body tightening with nerves. He cocked a knee and stood up, using the sofa to hoist himself up.

“No...yeah, I’ll come meet you. That’s fine…”

Misha curled into the phone, trying to hide from Jared without obviously whispering. Jared took the hint and tiptoed towards the door.

“I’ll be right there. It’s fine. Ok... Yes.”

Jared’s hand was on the door knob as Misha hung up, rushing to catch him before he left.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Blue eyes were sad suddenly, filled with guilt, yet searching.

Jared gave a half smile and shrugged. “It’s cool, man.” He nodded and looked away, ready to leave and forget everything. “Jensen done in editing?”

Misha sighed and looked down at the phone. “Yeah, he’s… he’s waiting for me.”

A rush of cool Vancouver air filled the trailer as Jared popped the door open. “So…”

Misha’s stomach churned painfully. What was in Jared’s voice? Disappointment? Guilt? Regret? “Jared, I-”

“See you in the morning.” Jared smiled as if nothing had happened and turned, hopping down the short staircase and away into the night before Misha could finish his goodbye.

“See you.”

But he didn’t see the confusion in Jared’s eyes as he stumbled up the lane towards his car. Didn’t hear the questions rattling around in his head, didn’t feel his heart so close to bursting.

He saw the overhead light go on in Jared’s truck. Saw a flash of blue.

Heard his phone ring again.

“Yeah, Jensen...I’m coming.”

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[multiplesmutthings]

Pyrrha is tired of how dense Jaune is and decides to do something about it. She ties him to his bed before getting him hard with her mouth then proceeds to use his cock on every virgin hole she has, and as she proceeds to suck and fuck him keeps telling him that it's his fault she had to resort to this

Pyrrha has had it. She was going to do what she must to be with Jaune. Even if that meant telling him straight up. So when they were on the balcony for training she looked at him. “Jaune we need to talk.” She said putting her weapon aside. Jaune paused, sheathing his weapon and swallowing. Pyrrha had a serious look on her face, and he started running through everything that he had done that day, wondering if he had offended her somehow. “Jaune you’ve been doing so well and have progressed so much from the first day we’ve done this. And I’m glad for that.” She said as she smiled at him. “But there’s something you must know, something I should have told you since the beginning of he year.” She said making it sound like he did something by accident.

Jaune swallowed again, this time audibly, a cold sweet breaking out over his brow. What had he done? His mind was running through every interaction he could remember having with Pyrrha, but he couldn't figure out what he did wrong. "Pyrrha, whatever I did, I am sorry!"

“W-What? Jaune what do you mean?” Pyrrha said as her thoughts were interrupted by the blondes rambles. “No I mean I’ve had these feelings for a long time and I want to let you know about it.”

Shock was the predominant emotion Jaune was feeling. "Feelings for me...why me? You could do so much better?" the blonde asked, gaping at the stunning redhead.

“YES! I’ve been having these feelings for you for so long! And better? Who do you think can be better?!” Pyrrha said getting a bit irritated at Jaune, she honestly thought those hints she gave from day to day would let him know.

Jaune knew that he had to be honest here. "*Anyone* could be better than me...face it, Pyrrha, I...I'm *pathetic* compared to anyone you could get. Why settle?"

“Your.. you.. J.A.U.N.E.” Her eye was twitching as her hands gripped the air and made to grab him but she held herself back from strangling him. “You.. nnghhh...” then in a fit of anger she then punched him hard enough to knock Jaune out. “OH MY GOD JAUNE!” She yelled realizing what she did as she caught him and put his head on her lap. Jaune groaned in his unwilling sleep, unable to feel the softness of Pyrrha's thighs or enjoy the scent of her skin. Looking down at Jaune, Pyrrha sighed glad he wasn’t too hurt. But then got an idea. Slowly she dragged him to their dorm and laid him on bed. Quickly grabbing some strong rope she then stripped Jaune naked and did the same to herself. Then she began to tie Jaune up with his arms and legs bounced she looked at his third leg and smiled as she began to stroke it before leaning up to kiss Jaune on his lips with her soft ones. Jaune moaned as he slowly woke, the pain in his head being warred against by the pleasure between his legs. Cracking his eyes open, he inhaled sharply as he saw a naked Pyrrha, full breasts and curved hips and shaven pussy, looking at him with a smile, her hand on his still limp cock. “Sorry for the Um.. hit I didn’t want to hurt you Jaune. I just got, frustrated and well I’m doing this for two reasons.” She said as she kissed him once more. “For forgiveness, and to show you how I feel for you.” She said as she moved down and then kissed his cock before she began to suck on the tip now. Jaune inhaled sharply, muscles in his stomach bunching as wet heat wrapped around his sensitive tip, something that after a moment, he recognized as her *tongue* flicking over it. Despite himself, he was quickly becoming hard.

“Mmnnn... hmmmm...” Pyrrha hummed as she sucked his cock. She bobbed her head and looked up at him with her kind green eyes. Soon enough she took it down her throat, never taking anything like it making her gag Cutely on it as she was planning to give him ALL her virginities~ Jaune groaned as he threw his head back, the throb from the punch all but forgotten as pleasure flooded him. He had never even been *kissed* by a girl before just a few moments ago, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. She kept going as she bobbed her head low enough for his balls to gently pat against her chin. She hummed and fondled his balls at the same time as well.

Jaune groaned as Pyrrha's soft lips swallowed up his cock, her tongue whipping around the sensitive shaft. He arched, pulling at the restraints, but they were tied too well. "P-P-*Pyrrha!* Gonna...*gonna*--!" Hearing him groaning she quickly moved her head faster and made sure the tip of his cock went down her throat each time. After doing this a few more times she quickly moved so the head was in her mouth and she swirled her tongue around the tip trying to get him to cum. Jaune did everything he could to keep himself from cumming, but it was a futile struggle. Not only was it something he had never dealt with before, he honestly didn't *want* to stop. *"C-cumming!!!"* he gasped, his eyes squeezing shut as his balls emptied themselves of their first salvo. Her eyes closed as Pyrrha eagerly gulped down all of Jaune’s cum. The feeling of his warm seed going down her throat and into her mouth was amazing. And the taste was even better. Once he finished she pulled off and gave a gentle sweet kiss to the tip of his member. Jaune panted as he recovered from his orgasm, his cock twitching as he watched Pyrrha's throat bob as she loudly swallowed. He mimicked the action, knowing that the streams of cum he had just released within Pyrrha's mouth was now within her belly. He shuddered as she kissed his tip, her hand coming up and caressing his heavy balls as she hummed.

“You still got more in you right Jaune~?” She said as she felt his cock get hard and soon she moved up. Her legs going next to her hips as she sat on his lap. She then panted and rubbed herself against Jaune’s body her breasts against his chest and his cock being sandwiched between her soft asscheeks. “It’s gonna get better~” she said as she held his member and aligned it with her back hole. Jaune groaned as an almost impossible tightness wrapped around his cock, a burning heat covering his shaft. Opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of Pyrrha sitting upright on him, biting her lower lip, her cheeks rosy. Glancing down at him, her lips turned upwards into a naughty smile as she spread her legs and revealed her soaking pussy, letting him know *where* his cock was right now. “A-AHH~! Oh... oh gods~ that might’ve been risky but ooooh it was worth it~” Pyrrha said as she panted and put her hands on his thighs and began to move her hips up until he tip of his cock was just inside of her and pushed back down as it went back in fully. “H-How does my ass feel Jaune~? Cause Nngh... you feel amazing~” she cooed while rubbing her still untouched pussy with two fingers getting it wet and ready for his next orgasm when he was done with her ass. Jaune said nothing, a gurgle being the only thing escaping his mouth as Pyrrha bounced up and down on his shaft, her breasts jiggling and bouncing as she moved, throwing her head back and moaning loudly, making his cheeks burn. He felt her toned, but still somehow soft asscheeks slap against his inner thighs and balls every time she came down upon him, the ever so slight sting somehow only making this better. “Nnnng... Jaune I’m such a naughty girl~ pleasuring myself with your cock... ah~ and it’s in my ass~ how does that make you feel~?” Pyrrha asked as she moaned louder feeling his cock throb inside her, her heat getting much more exited as it dropped onto his abdomen. Her eyes staring into Jaune’s blue once’s as she continued to fuck herself on him with the intent of taking his load.

Juane licked his lips as his cock throbbed, knowing that his shaft spit out pre into Pyrrha's body. "...good..." he whispered weakly, still wondering *why* Pyrrha was doing this, but unable to care anymore. "...it feels so *good*, Pyrrha..."

“Mmnnn... it feels so warm~” she said rubbing her belly and she saw chin oozing out a little. Smirking she moved her hips a bit and felt him get hard while inside her. “Ah~! Final round~” she said seductively before she moved her body up slowly. His cock came out of her ass and as it lined up with her wet slit she looked into Jaune’s eyes. “I love you Jaune, I’ve always have.” She confessed before going down and moaning out in both pain and pleasure as Jaune’s cock took her virginity.

"Pyrrha!...are you okay?" Jaune's cock throbbed angrily in the wetness that coated his cock, despite his worry. His balls ached despite wanting to stop this to spare his partner, the girl who for some reason, saw reason to love him, the pain he had inflicted.

“Y-Yes.. Jaune.. I’m fine... I may not have thought this part through... nnngh.” She let out a few deep breaths as a bit of blood had came from her Pussy meaning she had her hymen broken by his cock. Also meaning that she had gave herself to him as well. After a few seconds the pain passed and Pyrrha yelped feeling a sensation of sharp pleasure hit her when Jaune’s cock throbbed inside. “Oh that feels sooooo much better!”

Jaune's eyes crossed as Pyrrha's walls squeezed around him as she started to rise and lower herself on him, even faster than when she had used her ass. He knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. "Pyrrha...I..." he threw his head back as she hilted herself and twisted her hips, "Can't hold much longer...!" he warned.

“Nnngh.. oh gods Jaune let it out~ cum inside Me~!” Pyrrha said loudly as she bounced her hips against his, his cock hilting in each time as she felt her Pussy being stretched more and more. Soon enough she came and tossed her head back as she orgasm’s her pussy clenching down and milking his cock for its baby batter. Jaune cried out as he finally came, shooting rope after rope of his thick seed into Pyrrha's body, so much that excess oozed out and dripped back down onto his hips. He slumped, breathing heavily as he watched (and felt) Pyrrha shake and shudder on top of him. “Nnngh.. Ah~ oooooh~ yeseesss~” Pyrrha said quietly as she felt herself getting filled up and creampied by her love. She let out a few deep breaths and rubbed her abdomen before she looked at Jaune before she laid on top of him and gave him an nice passionate kiss. Despite himself, Jaune kissed her back, tangling his tongue with hers, shuddering when Pyrrha's soft breasts rubbed against his chest, making his still hard cock twitch within Pyrrha's cum-slick pussy. Pyrrha mewled as she ended the kiss and sighed before laying her head at the crook of Jaune’s neck. “Hmmmm.... that was nice... so.. I hope you can understand that I love you Jaune. And no one else.” She said rubbing his cheek softly before resting her head against his.

(Thank you to @vecnawrites for the help with this!)