#AND someone keeps turning the temperature number setting down so it's not as cold. THE FRIDGE WAS AT 50°F

[casiavium]

Hi. If you haven't cleaned out your fridge in a while, you should check for expired food.

[hide-in-imagination]

Cruel Summer | Simbar Fic

-*Simón and Ámbar spent the summer in Cancún after the Roda Fest— That much is known. What no one knows is what happened during that summer.

This is a could've been. A glimpse into a moment lost in time.*-

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

New year, new multichapter! Hello, everyone. This is a project I've been working on for about three years now and I've finally decided to share it. It'll be four or five chapters, they're already drafted and halfway done, so I'll be posting this story along with Roads That Cross whenever I have the time. I'm hoping I can post all of it by the end of this year, 2023. Fingers crossed! Without further ado, I leave you with chapter 1. Hope you like it. — ☾

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

1. Fever dream high in the quiet of the night…

The sea breeze was hitting Simón's face as he walked down the beach. The sun had set recently, turning the clear, turquoise color of the water in Cancún into a dark blue. It was probably time he returned home, he thought. But the salty scent, the softness of the sand under his feet; all of it was like a part of him and it made him feel whole.

He needed that feeling.

He had lost count of the number of times he had volunteered to take the dog out for a walk these past days just so he could breathe in the sea. It was nice, but it always ended the same way.

With a sigh, Simón rubbed the sand off his feet and put on the shoes he had been carrying in his hands. Staying here until late wasn't going to help. If it could, it would've done so by now.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts and gave one last long look at the waves, willing their sound to drown his thoughts. He was turning around to leave when he caught sight of something. No, not something— Someone.

The skip of his heart wasn't something he could help or control. It had followed him around all summer, every time she was even mentioned, every time some seller by the coast offered handcrafted jewelry made of the semi-precious stone.

Ámbar.

Seeing her was a rare occurrence these days, and so much worse than just having to deal with the memories in his mind. She was walking in his direction, her gaze down, focused on how the breaking waves skirted close to her sandals and then retreated, never touching. Much of her skin was bare, covered only by a bikini as black as the night sky and short denim shorts. Her blond hair was loose and fluttering wildly from the wind. Her hand reached up to move it out of her face, and Simón remembered when it was him who did that.

That was then. Now was now.

When she saw him, she stopped in her tracks, clearly as taken aback as him. They looked at each other for a moment, then she turned to face the sea, her back straight, chin high. Her whole posture sent the message to just ignore her and keep going on his way.

Simón wanted to do just that ever since the moment he caught a glimpse of her. After all, they had managed to avoid each other for weeks now— They could keep doing it. But something pushed him to come closer instead. Maybe the exact same part of him that wanted to flee.

When he stood next to her, she made no sign of sensing his presence. He watched her profile, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the horizon.

"You shouldn't be here alone this late."

His words were only met with stoic silence.

His eyes stared at her on their own accord. There was a lot of exposed skin he wasn't used to seeing; he tried to ignore that. What he could not ignore, however, were the goosebumps on her arms—And everywhere he looked, now that he was paying attention. Being in the tropic, Cancún was always warm, but in winter, at night, and right next to the sea breeze, the temperature was as low as it could be.

"You look cold," he told her, but got no response. "Do you want my hoodie?" He offered, bringing his hands to its open front to take it off.

"No," Ámbar spat.

It was the first word she had said to him in weeks.

Simón hesitated, seeing small shivers in her body. "But the wind is blowing strong and you're—"

"What the fuck do you care?"

Her snap made him startle. His chest hurt— A quick pain that just as quickly turned bitter. He shouldn't be surprised. This wasn't the Ámbar he'd spent afternoons skating and talking with. This wasn't the sweet person he thought he knew. And even if she was, even if any of it was real, it was all too wrapped up in lies and revenges and heartbreak for it to mean anything positive in his life.

God, what am I doing?

Simón clenched his jaw, smoothing his expression; he refused to keep looking like a fool. "You know what? You're right. Forget it."

He turned around, stomping through the sand in the direction of his house. He looked back after a moment, expecting to see her walking away as well, but she was still there, staring at the waves.

Who the hell cares. I try to be nice and she barks at me. Serves her right.

Simón kept walking. He could see some people far ahead walking along the beach too, apparently a family. He heard some loud voices and laughs to his right, coming from one of the shops on the sidewalk. It sounded like a group of guys, either drunk or getting there. He couldn't tell from this distance if they were locals or tourists.

He looked back again. Ámbar was still where he left her, except sitting on the sand now.

Her house is not that far, she can walk. Not a big deal.

He walked a little more. Stopped. Turned.

Ámbar was curled up in the sand, her legs up to her chin as she hugged them. Even from this far he could tell she was shaking.

Oh god freaking damn it.

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

One second Ámbar was looking at the waves touching the shore, and the next, she felt a material crash and drape over her right side, momentarily blinding her as some of it covered her face.

"You can throw it in the trash later if you hate it so much, but don't freeze to death."

By the time she pulled the fabric out of her eyes, confirming it was indeed Simón's pale yellow hoodie, he had already turned and was walking away to where he came from.

A fire, dark and feral, burned in Ámbar's chest. That was what he always did— Turn his back to her.

She crumpled the hoodie into a ball and threw it at him. It hit his back before falling to the sand.

"I don't want anything from you."

Simón turned around like a storm.

"Why are you being so damn difficult?" He exclaimed, picking up the spurned hoodie from the sand. "I'm trying to be nice here, even though I have no reason to be, and you still reject my help!"

Ámbar stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, staring him down. A small, mirthless smile graced her lips. "Sorry, that's just how we people full of hate are. Nothing personal."

Simón felt a jab in his heart at hearing his words thrown back at him. Guilt, regret, sadness— All three hit him like a slap, but he squished the sensation. He was not the one who did things wrong. He was not the one who lied. He was not the one constantly looking for ways to hurt someone— Like she was doing right now, telling him this just to make him feel guilty, to make him feel even more miserable than he already was.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

"Just put it on, okay?" He asked her, extending her the hoodie.

"No. Leave me alone."

Simón took a deep breath.

"Ámbar, you're freezing, and you're barely wearing anything more than a swimsuit, at night, alone, in a foreign country," he stated pointedly, appealing to her good judgment. "The walk to your house is still many minutes long, and it doesn't look like you have any money on you or your phone to call a car— Which, by the way, is very irresponsible of you. Now, do you want to die of hypothermia just to prove a point, or are you going to take my hoodie and live to hate me another day?"

Ámbar looked at the hoodie for a moment. Then she turned her head toward the waves, her murmur barely audible over their sound.

"What if I rather freeze?"

Simón did a double take. She can't be serious.

"I'll put it on by force if I have to— Why are you being like this?!" He demanded, no longer able to contain his frustration.

"Why are you being like this?!" Ámbar volleyed back, bringing her fuming gaze back to him. "You don't care about me, you made it very clear that you hate me, so why are you insisting so much?"

"Maybe because I have a heart and I can't just see someone like this and do nothing?"

"I don't want your pity," she seethed.

Ámbar passed by him and began to walk towards the sidewalk. She had seen enough pity in the eyes of everyone in the last few days—

'We're sorry that Sharon lied to you like that.'

'Luna might be Sol, but you're still my granddaughter.'

—She didn't need any more of that; especially from him.

Deep down, she knew she was being unreasonable. That the mature thing to do would be to just accept the damn hoodie and carry on with her life. But she had this instinct— this need— to preserve the last shred of dignity she still had left. After the way the two of them had left things, Ámbar wanted him gone from her life, she wanted him as far from her as possible.

It wasn't that cold. She'd probably warm up if she jogged a little or something. She just had to get away from the sea breeze. From him. Very far from him until it didn't hurt anymore.

But no, of course he wouldn't give her that. She could hear his footsteps on the sand as he followed her, probably eager to deepen some wound, just as he had to go gloat in front of her after Luna won the Glass Skate.

And then people said she was the cruel one. That she was insensitive.

Fuck them and fuck him.

Simón tried to call out to Ámbar, but she kept walking away from him, acting as if she didn't hear him.

Just let her go, a part of him said. It's not your problem, you tried, if anything happens, it'll be her fault.

He couldn't. He couldn't let anything happen, he couldn't let her go.

"Ámbar, please! I—" Simón stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself inside. "It's not pity, I'm just... an idiot."

Some steps ahead, Ámbar stopped in her tracks, gathering she hadn't heard that right. She turned slowly and looked at him with a frown.

"What?"

Simón seemed reluctant to meet her gaze, reluctant to even speak further, but he let out a sigh and did.

"I'm stupid. I really, really am because, you lied to me, you broke my heart— By all means, I should hate you, but... I still care about you."

Ámbar was sure this time around that she had heard him wrong. He couldn't really mean that. But the way he averted his gaze, as if embarrassed, said otherwise.

She was stunned.

"So, as you can see, I'm the biggest idiot on this planet," he said dejectedly. "Now, can you please just put the hoodie on?"

Simón extended his hand with his eyes lowered. He wanted to save himself the humiliation of seeing the smugness on her face after what he had just confessed. He hated himself for it. He hated to give her that satisfaction, but he couldn't help the way he felt, and he had given up trying. Simón had spent all these days in Cancún trying not to think about her and it hadn't worked. So, he had just accepted the fact that he was pathetic and carried on with his life.

Honestly, the whole current situation was pathetic. Ámbar was the one with the problem and yet, somehow, he was the one begging her to let him help.

He could almost hate her for it. Except, as he had already established, he wasn't capable of it.

If she rejected his help this time too though, that was it, he wasn't going to insist anymore. He had at least some pride and self-love left. He could maybe call Miguel or something to send a car here so he could make sure Ámbar would be okay without getting involved any further. In fact, that was probably what he should've done from the beginning instead of walking back here and following her around. Why was he even—

She took it. Ámbar took the hoodie.

Simón looked up.

Ámbar slid her arms inside the hoodie, feeling his eyes on her. She pulled the zipper up to her chin and dug her frozen hands into the pockets.

The first thing she noticed was the warmth. Her body sighed as the fabric enveloped her, automatically feeling better. The second thing she noticed was that it smelled like Simón. It was quite obvious it would, he had been wearing it, but somehow, having his scent envelop her after so long of not smelling it at all was as big a shock to her system as the warmth against her cold body.

"Thank you," she said, sinking as much as possible under the soft cotton. It was the least she could say, and the only thing she felt comfortable saying.

Simón observed her. The hoodie looked big on Ámbar, the sleeves drowning her hands and the length falling down to her thighs. It was just long enough to cover the shorts she was wearing, making it look as if she had nothing underneath.

His treacherous heart jumped against his ribcage. He shouldn't be looking at her that way. Seeing her in his clothes shouldn't please him so much.

Simón gulped and nodded slowly. "You're welcome."

Ámbar crossed her arms to hug herself against the cold, and the movement drew his attention to her chest. He turned away quickly.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your house," he said, and if his voice sounded a tiny bit different, lower than a moment ago, he counted on the sea sounds to cover it.

Simón was aware that he had changed rather drastically his original plan of just handing her the hoodie and then lettling her walk back alone, aware that he was setting himself up for a big chunk of awkwardness because of it, but after taking one good look of Ámbar, there was no way he could leave her alone. The hoodie was a solution for one problem but there was another. If his mind had wandered seeing her like this, he knew others' would too, and there was no way in hell he was going to let Ámbar walk alone at night for some depraved man to harass her or worse— Simón would rather die.

(He might die, if he later found out that something like that happened and he let it.)

"I don't wanna go there."

Ámbar's voice snapped him out of his grim thoughts. Halting in his step, Simón spun around to find that, true to her word, Ámbar hadn't moved from her previous spot on the beach.

He frowned at her reluctance. "Why not?"

She averted her gaze. "I just don't."

That wasn't an answer, but Simón guessed he had no right to push, so he just went along with it.

"Do you have anywhere else to stay?"

Ámbar considered it. "Emilia could take me in."

Simón's face contorted in disbelief. "Emilia? Are you really that close to that girl now?"

"No, but I prefer her."

Why?

Simón wanted to ask but he suspected Ámbar wouldn't answer. He didn't like the idea of Ámbar hanging out with that girl. Didn't like it at all.

But that doesn't concern you. Not anymore.

"Well, where does she live?" He asked instead, swallowing his unease.

Ámbar seemed to think about it. "I'm not sure," she admitted reluctantly. "I think I'd recognize the general area if I saw it, but I have no idea where that is."

"Well, do you know her number? We can call her from my phone," he offered.

"I don't know it by memory, I need my phone."

"Okay, and where's your phone?"

"...At the house."

Simón let out an exasperated sigh. "Let's go to your house then."

He started walking again, just as he had one minute ago. Thankfully, Ámbar didn't protest this time and just followed along, walking slightly behind him.

"Why did you leave all your stuff there anyway?" Simón asked after a moment. It wasn't only dangerous but also didn't sound like her at all.

"I kinda left in a hurry and forgot to grab my things," Ámbar replied. "I wasn't supposed to walk that far either, I just lost track of time."

Their footsteps on the sand filled the silence that followed, along with some faraway voices of people in the city.

"Why didn't you go back to get your things?" Simón asked next. "Why do you still don't want to go back? It's your house."

"Summer house."

"Same thing."

Ámbar didn't say anything. She kept staring ahead, avoiding Simón's gaze, and for a long minute, they just walked like that, in silence. She clearly didn't want to answer his questions. She refused to open up to him at all.

Simón couldn't blame her; he felt the same way. It was totally understandable after everything that had happened between them. And he should've been okay with that. He should've been able to just leave it alone.

But...

Simón stopped in front of Ámbar and turned to face her, forcing her to a halt.

"Okay." He offered her his hand. "Truce."

Ámbar looked at him confusedly.

"What?"

"I said 'Truce'. I forget for the rest of our walk how you lied to me, and you forget for the rest of our walk how mad you are at me. Deal?"

Ámbar stared at him and his outstretched hand long and hard. The expression on her face showed what both of them knew— That they couldn't forget, not really. What had transpired between them had left a mark on both of them that wasn't easy to ignore. She looked at him with apprehension, seemingly trying to figure out his angle, what his objective was, what he wanted to gain from a deal like this.

Simón wished there were anything to be gained. He wished that this idea was in any way or form good for him, that he had been strong enough to convince himself to stay away.

But he was worried. Unrest in his chest, knot in his gut worried. Against all his better judgment and the bitter part of him that claimed whatever was going on with her served her right— His need to do something about it was stronger.

He had already let that petty part of him win once, when he went to see her in the dressing room after the Roda Fest. He thought he'd feel better after that. He didn't. He thought if he did the complete opposite of comforting her, his first instinct upon seeing her downcast, before he remembered why she deserved to feel that way, he'd finally be able to drown that urge once and for all. Yank it out of his chest like weeds.

He couldn't.

Ámbar, faced with this nonsensical offer, wanted to laugh scornfully at Simón's face. You want me to forget how you told me to go fuck myself? She wanted to bark. You want me to forget how I humiliated myself for you, begging for you to stay, and you didn't care at all?

But he looked honest. He really seemed willing to push everything aside for a moment and Ámbar didn't understand why. If I hurt him so much, why is he doing this?

The truth of the matter was, even after everything, she never did understand him. She thought she did, but that illusion broke as easily and as fast as that dressing room's mirror, back at the Roda Fest.

With this truce he was basically asking her to trust him again, even if only for a short time. Could she do that? She didn't really want to. Scratch that— She definitely didn't want to. Last time had ended in disaster.

But if it meant that, for just some minutes, for just one moment, he would trust her again...

You're not the only one who's an idiot, Simón.

Slowly, Ámbar raised her hand to his.

"Well, since I'll have to put up with you anyway..." She said with detachment. She gave his hand the shortest of shakes, not wanting the touch to linger for too long. It would just be another thing she'd miss later if she let herself have it again.

With the deal made, the two of them resumed their walk. Simón spoke again in a gentle tone.

"Okay. Now, tell me, what's wrong with that house?" He asked her. His eyes were inviting as he looked at Ámbar. It was almost how he used to look at her before, when they were friends and he consoled her.

Were we ever just friends though?

Ámbar pushed the memories away. Nothing was as before anymore. It would never be like that again. All she could do was answer honestly. At least he deserved that much.

"There's nothing wrong with the house itself, it's the people in it."

Simón stopped short.

"If you're just going to complain about Luna, let me tell you right now that I won't—"

Ámbar rolled her eyes. "It's not just that!"

Great, they had lasted five seconds without fighting. Why did she think it would be any different?

"Not just that?" Simón volleyed back with indignation. "What has Luna even done to you?"

Ámbar raised her brows at him. "Do you want me to make a list?"

Simón tossed his hands up and started to walk again. "Enlighten me."

Ámbar put a finger up as she fell into step beside him. "First, she invaded my house."

"That was not her decision, she had to move with her parents," he countered quickly.

She put up a second finger. "Then, she invaded my school."

"Again, not her decision."

"Then, she stole my boyfriend."

"That—" Simón closed his mouth before starting again. "Matteo was the one who went after her."

Ámbar glared at him. "I'm quite aware of that fact, thank you for reminding me."

Simón winced. He could imagine it hadn't been nice to watch her boyfriend going after another girl. Matteo wasn't even subtle in his interest in Luna.

"It doesn't erase the fact that if she hadn't arrived, Matteo wouldn't have done that," Ámbar continued.

"Well, if anything, it shows the kind of person Matteo is, not Luna," Simón argued. "She only started dating him when you two had broken up for good."

"Yeah, yeah, she's a saint." Ámbar rolled her eyes and counted more. "She also invaded my rink, stole my spot on the team, brainwashed everyone so they would love her, invaded my stage—"

"Luna has loved rollerskating for as long as I've known her," Simón said. "Of course she was going to go to the Jam & Roller— that place was like paradise for her. And she needed a place like that if she was going to be in a completely different country with completely different people. It's not easy to just jump on a plane and start your life anew in a new place you've never known before, surrounded by strangers. So excuse her if she started making friends and participating in stuff. It was her way to fit in and get along with everyone. Otherwise, she would've been alone."

The bite in his voice gave Ámbar pause. Somehow, throughout his speech, she got the impression that Simón had stopped talking about just Luna. The tightness in his jaw, his shoulders, the way his eyes had focused on the road ahead instead of meeting her gaze... Yeah, this wasn't just about Luna.

Suddenly, it occurred to Ámbar that Simón had been pretty much in the same situation as Luna those few years ago. He had arrived in a new country and stayed at her house (albeit secretly), had started frequenting the Jam & Roller and joined her skating team... The only difference was that he hadn't enrolled in her school.

But while Luna had her parents, Simón didn't have anyone when he first came to Buenos Aires. Except Luna. Luna who chose Matteo.

Why hadn't she realized any of this before?

Because he never showed he was anything but alright.

Sure, everyone could see the kicked puppy eyes he threw Luna's way, but besides that heartbreak, Simón was always all smiles and excited energy.

Just how lonely had he been?

Simón turned his gaze back to Ámbar. Many seconds had passed and she still hadn't screamed at him to stop defending Luna or something of the sort as he had expected her to do. In fact, she wasn't saying anything. Their eyes met for an instant but she looked away quickly, setting her gaze on her feet as she remained quiet.

"What, that's it? That was your list?" He couldn't help but taunt her. Maybe it was bitter of him, but he was just so tired of Ámbar's bad blood with Luna, especially because Luna had never done anything to deserve it. Excluding the Matteo thing, all of Ámbar's reasons to hate her were so damn superficial Simón felt like shaking her. It was unfair and ridiculous.

"Or what are you gonna tell me now? That Luna made Tamara leave?" He said with irony when the silence continued. "That she brought Juliana to the Roller? She made winter colder? Made split ends appear in your hair?"

"She made my godmother leave."

Simón's feet came slowly to a stop. All humor and annoyance drained from him as he turned to watch her.

"Ámbar..."

"I know," she said, looking away. "You don't have to tell me."

She knew what her godmother had done was wrong and probably illegal. She didn't need to be reminded of that whole mess. She spent every day trying to forget how Sharon had left the country with barely a goodbye to her.

"Do you know where she is?" Simón asked after a pause, his tone gentle. It was mostly out of curiosity really, and because he could sense this was an important topic for Ámbar, a painful one.

"No," Ámbar replied. "She hasn't contacted me since. And even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you," she said curtly, her eyes fiery as they met his. "You would probably just run to tell the Valentes and they would call the cops on her to get her behind bars."

Simón swallowed the pang he felt in his chest seeing the distrust in her eyes. The spark of anger and the cloud of sorrow that followed it.

So this is what we've come to.

"Ámbar, I don't think they would do that," he replied, focusing on them instead of him, even when what he really wanted to say was that he wouldn't do that to her. She probably wouldn't believe him.

"No?" Ámbar questioned, raising her brows with apparent incredulity. "And what do you suppose they'd do? Sit down to have a nice quiet dinner with her and reminisce about old times?"

"Of course not," Simón replied, glaring slightly at her tone of irony. "What she did was wrong; she tried to keep Luna from finding out who she is, from reuniting with her grandfather and getting what's rightfully hers. But she's still family," he said. "I don't think Mr. Alfredo wishes her harm. I think he even misses her."

Ámbar snorted and averted her gaze. "No one in that house misses her."

Maybe Simón had gotten to know Ámbar more than he thought he had. Maybe she was just easy to read if you really tried at it. Because right then, just looking at her posture, at her crossed arms and the expression on her face, it was easy for him to know what she wasn't saying.

"You miss her. Don't you?"

Ámbar flinched and turned further away from him, facing the waves instead.

"I'm mad at her," she declared, her voice sharp and filled with resentment. "She lied to me. She told me I was Sol Benson, made me believe that, and then when everything came crashing down, she just ran away. She abandoned me."

And yet you still miss her.

Simón could relate to that. Missing something, someone, even though you know it's not good for you.

"... Well, what else could she do?" He said. "Aside from facing the consequences of her actions, of course. It's not like she could've taken you with her if she was going to be on the run."

"I would've gone with her," Ámbar said immediately.

That was what she had wanted. She wanted to be away from here, from Buenos Aires, from everything. She wanted to leave her past behind and start anew with her godmother some place else where there would be no Lunas, no Valentes, no heartbreaks. She had spent all these days in Cancún thinking that it would've been better if Sharon had just taken her with her.

Simón didn't seem to agree though.

"Ámbar, that's crazy!" He said, positively looking at her as if she had lost her mind. "You don't know what she would've done to you. You said it yourself, she lied to you about who you are! And you don't know where she would've taken you. Your whole life is here. Your family's here, your friends are here—"

"Family?" She turned to him. "Friends? I have no one, Simón!" The cracks inside of her grew bigger as that sad truth came out, the one that'd been hunting her for weeks. "My godmother abandoned me. Alfredo doesn't even know I exist anymore, ever since he found out that Luna is the real Sol Benson, he totally forgot about me. The Valentes aren't my family, Luna definitely isn't my family nor do I want her to be, and everyone who used to be my friend turned their backs on me."

"Well, that one was your fault, if you hadn't burned down the rink—"

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!!"

Simón flinched back, staring at her wide-eyed.

But Ámbar didn't care if she looked crazy, she didn't care if she scared him, she didn't care what he thought— She was done with everything.

"How many times do I have to say that until SOMEONE believes me?! No— You know what? Forget it. Whatever!" She threw her arms to the sky. "You wanna believe I'm an arsonist? Perfect, go ahead. You wanna believe I purposely burned down the only place in which I've ever felt like I'm worth something? Be my fucking guest. A ton of other shit that I did do and I admit, but of course everyone would hate me for the one thing I didn't mean to do! It's just my fucking luck."

"Ámba—"

"And I guess it's also my fault that I'm not Sol Benson," she continued. "I should've just been born out of Bernie and Lily, how silly of me to have been born out of some stupid teenage girl who never heard of what a freaking condom is and gave me up to Sharon because she didn't have a penny to raise me!" She advanced towards him, making Simón take a step back. "You don't wanna believe the fire was an accident? I WAS A FUCKING ACCIDENT! MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE WAS A FUCKING ACCIDENT! IF THE WORLD GOT ITS WAY, I WOULDN'T EVEN HAVE BEEN BORN. HOW HAPPY EVERYONE WOULD'VE BEEN THEN, RIGHT?!"

She shoved against his shoulder and sprinted away, leaving Simón stunned. His mind was reeling, his heart pounding. He couldn't process everything she'd just said.

But his body reacted. He ran after Ámbar without thinking, because he didn't need to think it through— He just had to do one thing.

Catch her.

"Ámbar!"

He caught her arm, forcing her to a stop.

"Let me go," she said, trying to pull her arm free but he held on tightly to her wrist. Simón pulled her toward him and she started fighting, trying to break free with all her might. "I said let me go, Simón!"

He brought his other arm around her and pressed her firmly against his chest. "I'm not going to let you go."

Ámbar continued to struggle, trying to break away to no avail.

"Let me go!" She yelled in distress, smacking and pushing him with her free hand. "I hate you! I hate everyone! I hate-e—"

Her voice broke, and with it, so did her will to fight.

Ámbar burrowed her face on Simón's chest and her fingers clutched the material of his tank top. A loud wail tore out her throat, and she started to cry.

Simón let go of her wrist and wrapped both arms around her, holding her as her body shook with sobs and his skin got damp from her tears. Ámbar's arms slid around his sides and Simón felt her cling to him as strongly as she had tried to pull away before.

It was a cry filled with anguish; loud and desperate. Tears gathered in Simón's own eyes. Every little sound that came out of Ámbar's throat seemed to tear him apart.

"Shhh... Easy, bonita, easy," he murmured, caressing her back softly as his other hand cradled her head. "I don't ever want to hear you say anything like that again, okay? I don't want you to think it either. No one would be happier without you, Ámbar. Mr. Alfredo loves you like a grandchild, I know he does. He mentions you a lot. You're not there to hear it, but I have. He worries about you being out of the house so much."

A hard sob made Simón hold her tighter, wishing he could extinguish her pain with his arms.

"Delfi and Jazmín are angry right now but I'm sure they don't hate you. You've been friends for years, that doesn't go away one day to another. The rest of the guys are mad too but I'm sure they would forgive you if you apologized. Mónica and Miguel could be your family if you let them. Hell— even Luna wouldn't be happier without you, Ámbar. Who'd compete with her, huh? Who is a better skater than you, a better singer than you, to push her to be better? I know she annoys you, but I think she pushes you to be better too, doesn't she?"

Gradually, Ámbar's crying was easing down. Simón gently caressed her hair, beckoning the calm to come back. "I'm sure your mom loves you as well." He felt her tense up, but he kept going, knowing she needed to hear this. "That's why she gave you to Sharon. She wanted you to have a better life; a good one. I'm sure she doesn't regret having you. I mean, a girl as talented as you? Who could regret that?"

Ámbar let out a couple more sobs and then they receded, leaving just ragged breaths in their place, which shook her frame from time to time. Simón could feel her breath against his skin, warm as the tears she spilled, but they became fewer and fewer. Her hands slid down his back, and it was like they pulled the words out of his mouth before he could think whether he should say them.

"And I don't regret meeting you. I don't regret skating with you, singing with you, falling for you... even after everything that happened. So, please, don't say those things, Ámbar."

Finally, after what felt like a shredder to his very soul, Ámbar's crying ceased. Her chest rose and fell steadily against his own and no more tears fell from her eyes. They stayed like that for a moment longer— how long, Simón did not know, only that by the end of it both of their breathings seemed to have synchronized.

Slowly, Ámbar started pulling away from the embrace, and Simón felt the sudden, irrational urge to bring her back into his arms and keep her there forever, but he reigned it in, and let her go.

Ámbar swiped her hands across her cheeks and sniffed, wiping away the remnants of her crying as much as she could, but there was nothing she could do about her reddened eyes. Looking at her, Simón felt a need to protect so strong that it hurt.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked her softly, hoping that the shaking he felt inside didn't show in his voice. He had to be composed. For her.

Ámbar's eyes found Simón's shyly before shifting away. Not trusting her voice yet, she nodded.

She was embarrassed. She had never broken down like that in front of anyone. Hell— she had never broken down like that, period. She felt like she had cried for every misfortune in her life in one go. She wanted to berate herself for it, for letting herself break down, especially in front of someone, but she didn't have the energy for it. If she had been alone like all those times inside her bedroom, she probably would've been able to hold it in. But with Simón holding her, she just...

Ámbar checked him over discreetly, careful not to catch his gaze. There was a wet stain of tears, smeared makeup and maybe what else on his tank top that she had left there, and she was sure a lot of his skin had gotten wet from her crying too. It didn't seem to bother him, but then again, he was too nice to complain about it if it did. Even if it was her.

Simón's hands settled gently on her upper arms and rubbed a little up and down.

"Is it alright if we keep going?" He asked in that same soft voice he had used before. A part of her hated it, and the look on his face too; rebelled against the idea of him thinking her a fragile crystal thing. But the bigger, more honest part of herself wanted to reach out to that softness and wrap herself in it like a blanket. "I just think that the sooner you get inside your house, the better. I don't want you to get sick."

Again, she only nodded, not having the strength to say anything back anymore. Not having the guts to say she wanted to stay with him a little bit longer.

For a instant, it looked like Simón was going to grab her hand, but then he seemed to think better of it and dug both his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

She would've held his hand.

Ámbar felt embarrassed once more. She was so weak when it came to him.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, both to fend off the cold and also to try and keep in all the things that were swirling inside her. They walked like that for some time, just the sound of the waves touching the shore and some people walking down the street.

"I would recommend you stay in the house too," Simón told her, breaking the silence. "I know you were meaning to just grab your stuff and go to Emilia's, but I think it'd be better if you took a warm bath, got rid of all the sand... and ate something, because I don't know when was the last time you did." He watched her attentively, searching for any reaction to his words. "Maybe have dinner with everyone one of these days?" He suggested. "Like I said, Alfredo misses you."

Ámbar didn't answer or looked his way. She just kept walking ahead with her eyes fixed on the ground and her hands tucked under her crossed arms. Simón was at least glad that she didn't seem to be crying anymore, but she didn't look fine either. Given the circumstances though, he guessed it was too much to ask for her to be.

Simón considered trying to strike up more conversation but decided against it. Maybe silence was good. A lot of things had been said already— surely it was enough for one night. For many nights. Ámbar probably wanted to be left alone now, not pestered with questions or small talk. Maybe she wouldn't even want to see him again after this.

From her demeanor, he couldn't tell if she was just lost in thought or mad at him. She clearly hadn't wanted to cry, at least not in front of him, and he hadn't given her the option to leave alone, so he could understand if she was angry about that. Ámbar wasn't good at vulnerable. Maybe just the reminder of what happened would make her want to run and so she'd avoid him like the plague starting tomorrow. Simón would understand that too. But nothing would be able to stop him from worrying and wondering how she was. He didn't even know how he'd be able to fall asleep once he got home.

Finally, the wide entrance to the mansion could be seen ahead of them, the orange ceilings of the structure standing tall against the dark of the night, almost blending in together. Simón knew Ámbar didn't have her keys with her, but surely the doorman would let her in through the gate, so it was alright. Should he come in too? A part of him wanted to tuck her in himself, but he knew that was ridiculous. No, he'd just stay by the entrance until she got to the door and then—

"Simón?"

Simón turned at the sound of Ámbar's voice and found her standing some steps behind him. She must have stopped walking at some point without him noticing, lost in his thoughts as he was.

He didn't know what was it exactly that he saw in her gaze at that moment, only that it rooted him in place. Their shared look didn't last more than a couple of seconds— it couldn't have— because in an instant, Ámbar was running over to him, holding his face between her palms, and kissing him on the mouth.

Simón's eyes closed on instinct, but the rest of his body became paralyzed. His breath caught in his throat at the feel of Ámbar's lips on his, a little chapped from the sea breeze but still soft. She was kissing him firmly, with a taste of urgency or some deep-rooted need.

Whatever it was, he had to pull away. This was wrong. He had to pull away.

But when she started to part, he didn't let her. Each one of his senses rebelled against her retreat at once. His hands grabbed her waist and pressed her against him firmly, and he kissed her back hard, so full of desperation that it felt like a plea.

Don't go.

Simón didn't need to pull away, he didn't need to stop this— He needed her.

Please don't go.

Ámbar's lips moved against his with renewed confidence, rekindled fire. Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing them even closer. Simón let out a sound, low and pleased, and allowed his hands relearn her. He had missed her hair, her shape, the slow slide of her lips, and the taste of her mouth. He missed the way they seemed to fit together perfectly, the warmth of her touch as her hands ran over his body, the way she seemed delicate but her hold was strong and sure, electrifying, just like her presence in any room.

Nothing else mattered right now or even registered in his brain. Nothing was important, not even breathing, only this. Just her tongue against his, her scent mixed with the salt of the sea, the feeling of her body between his arms, and the little gasps she took in before he smothered them out.

They had never kissed like this before. The few kisses they'd shared had been unhurried, soft, because they had all the time in the world.

They thought they had all the time in the world.

Now their kiss was ravenous, frantic, with both of them trying to consume the other. Ámbar's fingers tugged at his hair. Simón tried and failed to get enough of her mouth. He was gripping her so tightly he would wonder if it hurt if she hadn't been holding him just as hard. It was like they wanted to fuse into one so they'd never have to part again.

But the burn in their lungs was too strong for them to keep fighting it forever.

They broke apart just enough to draw in some air. They were both breathing hard and trembling from the aftershock of sensations. For a moment, that was all they did— Hold onto each other and try to keep their hearts inside their chests.

Simón opened his eyes and found Ámbar's— Beautiful, dilated, and yet, so very melancholic.

She moved, bringing a hand to the side of his face. Her thumb caressed his cheek.

"Thank you," she said, softly. She lowered her hand. "Goodbye."

Just like that, she parted from his arms and walked away, leaving nothing but air where she once stood.

It was the first time in the entire night that Simón felt cold.

He turned to watch her cross the gate and walk up to the front door of the mansion. It closed behind her. Ámbar didn't look back once.

Simón understood what that meant.

That kiss had been a farewell, one last goodbye, the closure they didn't get to have because of all the drama that surrounded their end.

Now their walk was over, and with it the truce they had put on, like one final performance before the curtain closed on what was once them.

There was no 'them' anymore.

(There hadn't been for a while.)

Standing there outside the mansion, Simón wondered why it hurt so much.  

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

His keys rattled as he opened the door and walked inside his house. His mom, sitting at the living room table with a cup of tea in front of her, greeted him back.

"Didn't you have a hoodie?" She asked him.

Simón looked down at himself. Considering how things had left off, he doubted Ámbar would approach him again.

"I... must have left it somewhere."

"You lost it, you mean." Her mother shook her head, with that blend of exasperated fondness only mothers seemed to pull off so well. "You airhead. You're hopeless."

Flashbacks of the night ran through his mind. Simón went up to his room.

"...Yeah. I guess so."

…

..

.

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

We can play the game 'How many references to songs and other things can I put in one chapter?' I don't know the answer but I think I outdid myself with this one.

[physsting]

A Cruel Prank

CW: Exposure, environmental whump, unnamed whumpee, whumpee death (fade to black, left ambiguous)

1k words, lemme know if anything else needs tagged! Written for @amonthofwhump 's March Whump-a-Thon!

Whumpee zipped up his pants and started the couple minute trek back to the campsite from the bathrooms. It was his first real camping trip -- the one night ones as a kid that ended with no fire and a lot of swearing didn't count -- and he was a little surprised at who he was taking it with. This group of kids practically ruled his college. Their parents bought the salaries for half the professors and skated through their classes with ease. Whumpee, well, he was on a scholarship he'd earned in Science Olympiads.

He really couldn't believe his luck. He'd come up to their table in the lunch hall expecting to be laughed off, and instead they'd invited him on a trip! Sure, it'd been a little awkward so far, they'd talked over him a lot, but he was certain things would turn around today.

The campsite was quiet when Whumpee returned. He'd left Friend making coffee on the fire, but now the fire was kicked out and Friend nowhere to be seen. No matter, she probably also ran to the bathroom. A different bathroom that the one he'd just been at. He looked around for the lighter but couldn't find it, and figured she must have set it in her tent to keep it dry. He'd simply wait next to the fire in his pajamas for her or someone to come out. Everything was normal.

"Hey, Whumpee! How's it going?" Friend laughed on the other line. Other laughing voices were quickly stifled in the background.

Several minutes later, Friend hadn't returned. No one in any of the other tents had stirred either. Whumpee had pulled out his phone and began playing games on it, not worrying about the battery. He wasn't a picture person anyway. It did allow him to count up the time. 10 minutes…then 20…then 30… and still no one had come.

Whumpee got up and circled the tents, looking inside for the outlines of sleeping forms. There weren't any. Whumpee's heart sank, memories of being left behind on field trips flooding his brain. He pulled out his phone again and dialed a number. It rang several times before someone picked up.

"Um, not great. Where are you guys?"

"Chill out dude! We just ran into town for a few things, we should be back in a couple hours."

"Hours?"

"You'll be fine! Get close to nature!" Friend laughed. Whumpee spluttered.

"You can't just leave me-"

"Woops, sorry, bad connection, gotta go!"

The phone clicked off. Whumpee stared down at it in his hand. He could yell. He could scream. He could drop kick it into the woods. Instead he tucked it into his pocket and went to get dressed.

The sun rose into the sky and there was no sign of Friend's Jeep. The area was remote, with no other campers nearby. Whumpee played on his phone until the battery reached 20%. He sighed and tucked it into his pocket. The chargers were all run off of the car's battery. He took a walk around the grounds of the campsite and eventually sat down to wait by the campfire again.

The sun began to travel down the sky and the temperature began to dip. Clouds formed, dark and angry. Whumpee hugged his coat around himself and pulled out his phone.

"Are you coming back yet?"

"Pssh, we're almost ready to head back, don't get your pants in a twist."

"Its getting cold up here, I think it might snow."

"It's not supposed to snow today, don't be a baby, Whumpee." Friend clicked off the line without saying goodbye and Whumpee stared angrily down at his phone again. 10%.

Despite the forecast not calling for snow, all of the others had taken their winter coats with them. The firestarter was in the back of the jeep with the wood. Whumpee sat down next to the dead fire and pulled his coat tighter around him. Big flakes of snow began to fall. Whumpee retreated inside his shitty $30 tent he'd bought just for the trip.

It was fine. It was fine. The others would be coming back soon, he'd be pissed at them, and they'd all go back home and he'd never talk to them again. No need to call anybody. He began to shiver and pulled out his phone again.

"Are you guys almost here?"

"No, we're still two hours out. The roads got real bad out of nowhere."

"Two hours? It's really cold up here!"

"We can't be there any faster, Whumpee!"

Whumpee clicked off the phone and nearly threw it in frustration. It was on 7%. He stared at it for a second, thumb nearly on the emergency dial button, before putting it away. Two hours wasn't a lot. It would suck, but he'd survive. No need to bother anyone from emergency services about a stupid, stupid prank.

A couple minutes later, Whumpee was shivering violently. His teeth were chattering. The tent was doing little to keep the wind out. His toes were long since numb in his sneakers and his fingers down to the second knuckle were going the same way. He pulled out his phone and hit the emergency dial button.

"Thank you for calling kssshhh what is the khsss of your emergency?" The operator chirped through a cloud of static. Whumpee cursed not getting the roaming package.

"I'm - I'm stuck on the mountain, my friends left me."

"Please rep - ksshh, you sai- ksssh- 're stuck?"

"Yes! Yes I'm on the mountain, I can't get down and its really cold!"

"Underst- ksssssh - we have - kssh - cation but - ksssh - take -kssssh- pter - kssh- hours to get - kssh- you."

"What?"

"It'll take - kssh - rs to get -kssssh, but hold - kssssssh - coming."

Whumpee's phone shut down. He stared at it for a several seconds before hurling it against the side of the tent. A couple hours either way. Whumpee started to panic. He'd never make it, he'd never make hours. Maybe the helicopter would be able to save him once they got here, but how specific was the location? How long would it take them to get him to a hospital? How long until he died?

His breaths came out in rapid huffs. He wanted to scream and cry and tear everything apart, his shitty tent with his two shitty blankets and his shitty coat and shitty phone that couldn't hold a goddamn charge. He unzipped the tent and dove outside.

He immediately regretted it, all of the warmth trapped by the tent immediately dissipated and the wind sapped all of the residual warmth from his core. He let out a guttural cry and went back inside the tent. It was freezing but at least it wasn't windy. He curled up and pulled the blanket tight over him, hoping for a swift rescue.

His shaking began to subside, which he hoped was a good sign but knew was bad. He was so tired. His head seemed magnetized to the ground, every push to get up met with an equal force pulling him down. He couldn't fall asleep. He knew people who fell asleep in the cold never woke up. But he was so tired.

Tears streaming silently down his cheeks, without even the energy to sob, he said his goodbyes to his family and finally slipped into the warm void of sleep.

A couple minutes later, the sound of helicopter blades beat against the sides of the mountains.

[atlanticcanada]

 Extra spaces open at shelters ahead of freezing temperatures; heat pump users warned of pipe bursts

An extreme cold warning has been issued across the region, with some saying the arctic air could break record-low temperatures in the Maritimes.

The approaching weather has outreach workers working overtime to get as many people as possible off the streets.

The Sackville Warming Centre in Lower Sackville, N.S., is adding 10 more beds to bring their overnight capacity to 30.

"If more show up, I’m not going to say we’re going to shut the door on them either. We’re trying to be accommodating to whomever shows up," said Jim Gunn, a Beacon House board member.

Nova Scotia's community services minister says the province has been planning all week for the dangerous temperatures.

"If someone wants a bed, I promise that they will have a bed," said Karla MacFarlane.

Shelter locations have been shared through social media, libraries, service providers and MLA offices in an effort to get the word out to as many people as possible.

"They will be opening tomorrow and they will be open until Sunday, but please keep in mind that we will certainly be assessing the situation of the weather, all the time," said MacFarlane.

Bus passes will also be issued to anyone who needs transportation to a shelter in the Halifax Regional Municipality.

"There’s going to be good food already prepared for them, the freezers are full. There’s volunteers ready to serve the meals from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. in the evening," said Gunn.

In Nova Scotia, shelters open when temperatures drop to -15C – a number that will easily be passed this weekend.

Temperatures are expected to be even colder in New Brunswick, with the windchill forecast expected to be in the -40C range.

Mickey Maguire, who lives in Moncton, N.B., has been waiting for permanent housing.

"I spend pretty much every winter outside usually," said Maguire.

He admits he's not prepared for this weekend's weather.

"I don’t even have shelter, a tent or anything set up," he said.

It's an issue outreach workers are hoping to avoid.

HOMEOWNERS BEWARE AS TEMPERATURES DROP

Experts are also warning homeowners who rely on heat pumps to take note as extreme temperatures settle in.

"They (heat pumps) typically don't have the same heating capacity when it's this cold," said Gloria Haydock with the Insurance Bureau of Canada. "It's really important to include an additional heating source, such as your furnace or electric baseboard heaters that you've got. Especially if you go to bed thinking everything is fine and you’re okay, and you wake up in the morning; the last thing you want is some frozen pipes.”

Plumbers around the region are already receiving a stream of frozen pipe calls.

James Pentz, the CEO of Halifax Plumbing and Heating, said he responded to 10 calls on Thursday morning alone. Pentz said it is critical for heat pump owners to have another source of heat during extreme cold.

“The ambient temperature in the room is not always the same on the exterior walls,” said Pentz. “It can cause freeze ups if you have your heat pump running in one room and the other side of the building is not getting adequate heat.”

Ken Bain, the parts manager with Mr. Plumber in Charlottetown, said most heat pump owners make the necessary adjustments for extreme cold.

"Because so many people are using heat pumps today, they have their boilers either turned off or down very low," said Bain. "It would be a good idea, because of the wind and cold temperatures, to have that boiler up and running."

Bain said homeowners should also try to locate drafts of cold air.

"I just had a cottage, or small home, freeze up last night because of drafts,” said Bain. “A gentleman called this morning and everything had frozen on him.”

There are several preventative steps homeowners can take to avoid frozen pipes.

"Throughout this time, run water through all plumbing fixtures regularly just to make sure that things are not freezing up," said Haydock.

Other preventative steps include:

raising the temperature in your home by a degree or two, particularly at night

unscrewing any hoses, turning off outdoor water supplies, draining those taps

leaving a heat source on and having somebody check on your home if away for an extended period

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/NDhFY1L

[finelinevogue]

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

[badassbuchanan]

Secrets and Spies

Request: Could you write something where the reader and bucky have been seeing eachother for a while but no one from the team knows. But they know something is different with bucky so they follow him one night to the readers place and kinda catch them in the act? I don't know if that makes sense

Warnings: smut; shower sex, loud sex, unprotected sex, swearing and some really bad writing skills on my part!

a/n: my first request, yay! I hope it came out okay! it’s different to the writings i’ve done before - I hope it makes sense

also I'm sorry if you didn't want this to be smutty but my thirsty ass brain took the ‘catch them in the act’ part a little too literally. I'm just a whore for bucky let’s face it. 

“You coming to the game with us next week, Buck?” The blonde haired Captain asked his childhood friend as he stood with him and Sam in the kitchen.

“Hm?” The long haired winter soldier looked up from his phone which had previously captured all of his attention.

“The baseball game,” Sam frowned at Bucky suspiciously, crossing his arms as he leaned his back against the kitchen worktop. “The one we talked about last week.”

“Oh,” Bucky raised his eyebrows and nodded, lifting his metal hand to scratch the back of his head. “Uh yeah,” he looked back down at his phone which was now buzzing in his hand. “Um, I’ll be there.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Bucky was out the door, lifting his phone to his ear as he softly answered “hello.”

Sam and Steve turned to look at each other with a puzzled look on their faces.

“You know he’s been acting weird right? Even for him.” Sam raised his eyebrows at Steve who rolled his eyes softly, leaning his hands on the counter.

“He’s probably just stressed or something.” Steve dismissed Bucky’s recent behaviour, but even he’d noticed how distant and odd his oldest friend had been acting.

“Steve, I know you always want to see the best in him.” Sam’s voice dropped an octave in seriousness, mirroring Steve’s stance from across the kitchen bench. “But don’t forget what he’s capable of.”

“No, that wasn’t him. That was Hydra.” Steve defended Bucky, hitting his palm against the worktop before lifting it to rub his jaw anxiously. Sam’s words were making him worry.

“Okay, so what if Hydra, starts controlling his mind again?” Sam spoke softly, understanding what the weight of his words were doing to Steve. “Regardless, that doesn’t excuse his sneaking around, all the secret conversations, the frequent disappearing, or the fact that he is constantly distracted.”

“Oh, so it’s not just me who thinks Mr.Bionic is acting like more of a weirdo than usual?” Tony waltzed into the room, removing his sunglasses as he did so.

Steve shot Tony a warning glance but nodded his head anyway. Bucky had been acting strange for a while, it started off with small things, but now he was hardly ever around. And when he was, his mind was distant. Everything Sam said was true and Steve could only ignore it for so long.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y informed me he’s arranged to meet someone tonight.” Tony added, shoving a handful of almonds in his mouth as he did so. “You might wanna keep a close eye on him.” He more instructed than suggested, shrugging his shoulders before leaving the room to answer his ringing phone.

Steve loved Bucky. He believed in Bucky. But he couldn’t deny the small amount of constant doubt that lived in his mind. What if Hydra was still dormant in Bucky’s brain, controlling him with such a subtlety that no one would notice?

Steve let out a sigh, running his hand through his pushed back blonde hair. He was torn between trusting his childhood friend and doing his job as an Avenger to protect the world from potential threats. “Just let me talk to him.”

Sam nodded understandingly as the kettle clicked, signalling the water was done boiling just as he turned his back to grab a mug from the cupboard.

—Bucky’s POV —

“The baseball game,” Sam frowned at Bucky suspiciously, crossing his arms as he leaned his back against the kitchen worktop. “The one we talked about last week.”

“Oh,” Bucky raised his eyebrows and nodded, lifting his metal hand to scratch the back of his head. “Uh yeah,” he looked back down at his phone which was now buzzing in his hand, Y/N’s unsaved number flashing on the screen. “Um, I’ll be there.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Bucky was out the door, lifting his phone to his ear as he softly answered “hello.”

“Hey mister,” The sweet voice cooed through the phone, a bashful smile appearing on Bucky’s face as he leaned against the wall. “You coming over soon? My housemate’s gone out for the night.”

“Yeah, just finished working out with the guys. I’ll have a shower and then make my way to you.” Bucky fiddled with the drawstring of his grey track pants absentmindedly as he spoke.

“Or you could have a shower here,” Y/N spoke in a suggestive tone. Bucky living at the compound and Y/N’s housemate almost always home meant they never got much alone time without having to worry about Y/N’s housemate hearing what they were up to. “We could even have one together.”

Bucky’s eyes almost popped out of his head, her words catching him by surprise as he pushed himself off of the wall to stand up straight. “I’ll be there soon.”

Y/N chuckled at Bucky’s attempt to try and keep his cool, her heart skipping a beat at his excitement. “Okay, see you soon.”

“Okay.” Bucky breathed through a bashful smile. turning quickly to walk back down the hallway.

— Sam and Steve‘s POV —

Bucky walked back into the room in a slight rush.

“Hey, Buck. We need to talk.” Steve looked Bucky up and down, analysing his body language to test his reaction. No matter how busy he was, Bucky always made time for Steve and vice versa. They were always there for each other.

“Yeah buddy, later. I have to go.” Bucky turned to reply to Steve quickly before walking down the stairs out of sight.

Sam turned around to face Steve, mug in hand as he chuckled. He shook his head, looking up at Cap who was frowning in both confusion and concern.

“Okay, we need to find out what’s going on with him.” Steve crosses his arms, biting the inside of his lip as he racked his brain for any and every possible solution to reason Bucky’s behaviour.

— Bucky’s POV —

“C’mon Buck, we still have to cook it.” Y/N giggled softly as she watched her boyfriend dig his finger into the raw brownie batter they’d just finished mixing.

Bucky lifted the chocolate covered finger towards his mouth, licking off the mixture as he shrugged. “Taste good enough to me.” He smiled cheekily, using his metal arm to pull Y/N against his chest.

She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands playing with his hair as she admired his handsome face. Bucky leaned down to press his lips against hers, the sweet taste of chocolate enticing her in.

She moaned against him, tilting her head as Bucky let his tongue run teasingly over her lips. “How about that shower, hm?” She mumbled against his lips, feeling the kiss heating up fast.

Bucky moaned with a nod, feeling his cock stirring beneath his sweatpants. Y/N made a quick move to turn away from him, putting the brownie mixture in the oven.

He couldn’t help but watch her ass as she bent down, the workout leggings she wore left nothing to the imagination. He bravely moved forward, his hand slapping her ass cheekily as she quickly stood back up.

“Hey!” She shot Bucky a glare, smiling at the same time after she made sure to set the timer on the oven. “Save it for the shower.”

Bucky chuckled in amusement as he followed her down the hallway of her house which he’d become so familiar with. He didn’t go many places outside of the compound, and Y/N’s house felt like his special little hideaway from everything and everyone.

Y/N adjusted the temperature of the shower before removing her clothes, turning around to face Bucky as she did so.

Bucky couldn’t help but get distracted as she undressed, watching her every move. She walked towards him when she was left only in her panties, running her hand over his stomach.

“Need some help?” She offered, looking up at him innocently as she tugged on the tie of his sweatpants.

Bucky clenched his jaw as he looked down at her perky tits, nipples hardened in the cold air. His cock twitched at the sight of her bare skin, his metal hand reaching out to palm her breasts.

Y/N reached her hand inside his sweatpants, grabbing hold of his cock as her mouth dropped opened in shock. “Already so hard, Buck.” She smiled widely, slowly pumping his hard member in her hand.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, his hips bucking into her hand as he tugged on her nipple. Y/N felt her arousal dripping onto her underwear from the thought of his cock inside of her.

“Baby stop or I’ll cum.” Bucky grunted, his face screwing up as he grabbed hold of her hand with his flesh one, his metal hand still full of her boobs.

“I don’t want you to cum until you’re inside me.” Y/N spoke against his lips, giving his cock one last squeeze as she felt her pussy start to ache in need.

Bucky’s cock throbbed at her words, his eyes drawn to watch her pull his track pants down his legs. She tugged his underwear down with them, admiring the way his hard length bounced to slap up against his stomach.

Y/N bit her lip, her hands running up his thick thighs and over his abs, pulling his t-shirt up as she went. Bucky helped her out, lifting the material over his head, leaving him completely naked.

Y/N pushed her chest flush against his, leaning up to kiss him teasingly. Bucky felt her hard nipples rub against his bare chest, her soft skin felt so good against his as he held her waist.

She gave him an open mouth kiss before turning around in his arms, still pressed against his body as Bucky’s cock rubbed over her ass.

“Take them off for me, Buck.” She said softly, guiding his hands to the waist band of her panties.

Bucky complied with her request, pulling them down to her knees before she bent over in front of him to take them off the rest of the way, causing his cock to nudge between her bare ass cheeks.

Bucky groaned at the feeling of his tip in her wetness, quickly pulling her hips tightly against him as he refrained from shoving his cock inside of her.

She smiled cheekily, knowing exactly what she was doing to him as she ground her ass against him, his cock saturated in her juices.

Bucky grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to stand back up, his chest flush against her back. He kissed up her neck, his metal hand sliding down between her thighs to rub her folds, immediately saturated in her slick.

“If you want me to fuck you like that, doll, all you have to do is ask.”

“Bucky!” She giggled softly, almost becoming shy at his filthy words. It was still something she was getting used to, Bucky was her first boyfriend.

He chuckled at her response, spinning her around in his arms to face him. He lifted his flesh hand to cup her cheek, pressing his lips against hers.

Y/N immediately kissed him back, relaxing into his touch as Bucky’s hands slid down to the back of her thighs.

His tongue pushed into her mouth the same time as he lifted her off of the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist as she let out a satisfied moan.

Y/N hugged his neck to hold her up, his thick length laying flush between her folds. She whimpered into his mouth, rubbing her hips forward slightly as Bucky walked them into the shower.

The heat of the water hit them immediately, warming their bodies as Bucky pressed Y/N’s back against the tiled shower wall.

“So gorgeous.” Bucky grunted softly, pecking her lips as he pushed his hips forward. Y/N’s pussy started to ache with a dull emptiness, his cock against her folds wasn’t enough to satisfy her. “I love you so much.”

She smiled into the kiss, tugging on his now dampened hair. “I love you, Bucky.” She looked up into his bright eyes, admiring his beauty as Bucky moved his flesh hand down between their bodies.

He grabbed hold of his cock, lining the tip up with Y/N’s entrance. The intense feeling caused her head to drop against his chest, kissing up the skin where his flesh fused with the metal.

Bucky’s heart fluttered at her touch, still so thankful to have found someone who loved and accepted him for him. It was something that he never thought would happen.

“Baby, please move.” Y/N moaned as her pussy clenched around his tip, causing Bucky to snap back to reality from his thoughts. He pushed his entire length inside her slowly, the tightness of her walls constricting him.

Y/N moaned again when he was fully inside of her, her nails digging into the flexed muscles of his back. Bucky stilled inside of her, knowing she’d need a moment for the stretching pain to subside.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N panted out in pleasure, her throbbing pussy hungry for more. Bucky bent his head to kiss a line from her collar bone to the underside of her jaw.

He began thrusting his hips slowly, allowing her pussy to adjust to his size. “You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” Bucky moaned into her ear, his breath tickling her skin. “We’ve got the house to ourselves remember?” He picked up his pace a little, his fingers digging into her ass so hard she’d definitely have bruised tomorrow. “Let me hear you.”

Y/N’s head fell back against the shower wall, her eyes closing as she let her moans flow freely. Her thighs clamped around his waist, trying to pull him closer as he fucked into her.

Her pussy clenched around his length, the slapping sound of his balls hitting her wet skin filled the room. It only turned Y/N on even more, that and the fact that they didn’t have to keep quiet for once.

“Bucky.” She moaned out his name shamelessly, arching her back which caused their chests to press together.

Water ran over their bodies as Bucky picked up his pace, already feeling his climax approaching as he listened to her moan his name.

Y/N kept up the volume, knowing it was driving her boyfriend crazy. Bucky stepped towards her, practically squashing her against the tiles.

The new position caused his pelvis to rub against her throbbing clit with every thrust. Y/N felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach, the pulsing of her clit making her toes curl.

She moaned breathlessly between thrusts, his pace quickening as she tugged on his hair.

“Oh fuck.” Bucky moaned, his head dropping back as he chased his high, fucking into her fast and hard.

Her pussy clenched around him with every thrust, the feeling of his big cock deep inside of her was something she didn’t want to end.

She moaned like a pornstar for him, her mouth dropping open as she looked into his eyes. Bucky bit down on his bottom lip, keeping his rough side locked away as he fucked up into her.

“Bucky, oh shit.” Her eyes widened in panic, her cheeks covered in a pink blush as she felt her orgasm taking over. “I’m gunna cum.” She cried, head throwing back against the tiles as she rocked her hips into his.

Bucky watched her in awe, always so proud to be the provider of her pleasure. Her hair stuck to her wet body, her breathing shallow as she continued to moan.

He didn’t let up his pace, watching her tits bounce against his skin as he leaned his head back into her neck.

His moans were muffled in her skin, Y/N’s only getting louder as Bucky fucked her through her orgasm.

Her body was so sensitive, the sound of their skin slapping together had grown louder with his erratic thrusting.

Y/N’s pussy throbbed around his silky length, her arousal dripping onto his balls. She turned her head to kiss him, so fucked out and breathless.

Kissing her made Bucky more determined to chase his high, his hands pinning her hips against the wall as he fucked into her.

“Oh, yes.” Y/N moaned loudly, her hands clinging to any part of him that she could. She panted in unison with his thrusting, Bucky’s face screwing up as he chased his high. “Oh, Bucky, fuck.” She cried out when his cock twitched inside of her.

Bucky felt his orgasm about to hit. “I’m about to cum.” He suddenly moaned, hardly even finishing the sentence before he released his load inside of her.

He dropped her legs to the floor, Y/N almost tumbled at how jelly-like her legs felt. She grabbed onto his biceps to steady herself, Bucky’s hands planted themselves either side of her head on the tiled wall.

He went to kiss her softly, missing her lips because of the way she turned her head. A sudden loud noise from outside catching her attention.

— Sam and Steve’s POV—

“Are you sure?” Steve looked over at Sam in the drivers seat with a slight frown of confusion on his face.

“Yes,” Sam nodded insistingly, turning the engine off which would’ve left them in total darkness if it wasn’t for the light illuminating from the house they sat outside of. “This is the last place F.R.I.D.A.Y traced Bucky’s phone.”

“But it looks like a normal house.” Steve’s frown didn’t leave his face as he stared out of the window, scanning the area for any sign of danger. “In a suburban area, full of civilians.”

He didn’t know what he expected to find when he’d agreed to Sam’s ridiculous plan to spy on Bucky. But it sure as hell wasn’t this. The unknown set off a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn’t fond of. A feeling that made him think the worst.

“Maybe Hydra has finally figured out that creepy warehouses attract more attention than normal houses.” Sam half joked with a scoff, turning his body to take off his seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” Steve’s head immediately whipped round to look at Sam with a worried look on his face. Sam could sometimes be hotheaded and jump into things without a plan, which didn’t sit well with Cap.

“I’m going to check it out.” Sam replied matter-of-factly. He knew that Steve would oppose to what he thought was the best plan of action, so he wasn’t going to ask permission, which he realised wasn’t going to work.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Steve pressed his lips together in a line nervously, his eyes darting back to the location where they’d tracked Bucky.

“Okay, why?” Sam dropped his hand from where it had lifted to open the car door and looked over at Steve. He decided he at least respected Cap enough to listen to his Star Spangled reasoning.

“Well for one, if it is a Hydra location the perimeter will be highly alarmed, not to mention the calibre of dangerous assassins that will be waiting inside, you won’t stand a chance.” Steve sighed, thousands of thoughts bouncing around his mind as he ran his hand through his hair stressfully. “And even if it’s not,” Steve’s voice dropped as his eyes grew worried. “Bucky will know we were tracking him.”

Sam chose to stay silent of a moment, something that didn’t happen very often. He knew Steve had just opened up about the real reason he didn’t want to go charging in like a bull in a china shop. He didn’t want to hurt Bucky. He didn’t want Bucky to feel like his two best friends didn’t trust him. Steve didn’t want to betray Bucky’s character and allow him to know that he had his doubts. That he could become Hydra’s Winter Soldier again.

“Okay, we’ll do it your way.” Sam said softly, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“We’ll start by securing the perimeter, then if, and only if, anything seems off, we’ll move in for closer inspection.” Steve instructed directly, only opening the car door once Sam had nodded in agreement.

They’d chosen not to bring any uniforms or weapons, knowing it would only draw more attention to themselves. Making sure to shut the car doors silently behind them, the pair slowly approached the white picket fence surrounding the property.

Sam veered to the left, Steve to the right as they inspected the location. Nothing seemed off. A few lights in different rooms illuminated the house. The curtains were drawn, making it hard for the two avengers to know exactly what was going on inside.

“No sign of movement on the east side.” Steve whispered, loud enough for Sam to hear as he slowly moved to inspect the gate.

Sam looked over at where Cap was, walking casually to meet him, finding no need to be as stealthy as his partner. “I got nothing on this side either.”

Steve sighed, relaxing a little when he saw no sign of danger. He stood up straight and crossed his arms, he was growing more curious by the second.

“Why this house? This family? In this neighbourhood? Who lives here? There must be some significance. I’ll call Tony and get F.R.I.D.A.Y to run the house through the datab-“

“Shh.” Sam quickly lifted his hand, cutting Steve off as his eyes darted from side to side. There was an eery silence in the street, followed by a muffled sound which made Steve’s ears prick up in attention. “Do you hear that?”

The boys made eye contact, frowns covering both of their faces as they slowly turned towards the house. Sam gestured towards the front door with his head, Steve nodding in agreement as they carefully opened the gate and moved in towards the house.

They crept up the garden path, stomachs sinking as the noise becoming more apparent, informing them they were on the right track.

“It’s coming from around the side.” Steve whispered as he pointed his finger, Sam’s eyes drifted to where Cap was pointing with a nod of acknowledgment.

The pair continued on their search, ears on high alert as they followed the sound down the left side of the house, a small passage which was as dark as the night. They stopped when they got to a room illuminated with light, the small open window too high up on the wall for them to see inside.

Low grunts, loud moans and harsh slapping sounds made both of their faces go pale in fear. It had to be Bucky. But they weren’t his moans, they were the moans of a woman. He wasn’t alone. And it sounded like he was torturing her.

“Shit.” Steve couldn’t help but let the language slip passed his lips as he dropped his head in a sigh, his hands on his hips. He tried to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt, but the evidence was stacked against him.

“What do we do now, Cap?” Sam whispered sadly, he wanted Bucky to be innocent just as much as Steve did. Yes, he would wind up the metal armed soldier at every opportunity that he got, but he had grown fond of him.

“We can’t let this go on.” Steve gestured towards the window where the near enough screams of a women were coming from, knowing they had to act fast as he tried to think up a plan.

“Oh, yes.” The girl moaned before Steve could even begin to think, causing both Sam and Steve to look at each other in surprise. “Oh, Bucky, fuck.” She cried out in pleasure, both boy’s brains ticking over as they tried to catch up with what was happening.

“Oh. My. God.” A cheeky smile washed over Sam’s face as a chuckle erupted from his throat. Steve let his face fall in his hands, humiliated and relieved at the same time.

Steve was thankful that his friend hadn’t been taken over by Hydra again, thankful that he wasn’t causing anyone harm. But now, he was stood in an alleyway listening to his best friend have sex.

Steve, still in shock, shook his head as he looked up at Sam who was still softly chuckling.

“I’m about to cum.” Bucky’s sudden moan caused both boys to snap back to the moment, eyes widening as they realised they didn’t want to be in ear shot when their friend reached his climax.

“Go,” Sam said quickly, his hand lifting to softly push Steve when he didn’t move. “Go, go, go.” He added with a bit more urgency, both boys turning to run from the alleyway in such a hurry that they weren’t looking where they were going.

They didn’t even make it more than a couple of steps before a loud crashing sound came from beneath them. “Shit.” Sam sighed, scrambling to pick up the pipes which he’d knocked over in his rush to get away.

Steve turned around with a sour look in his face, watching Sam try to clean up his mess. There was no way all that commotion would’ve gone unnoticed by the couple inside.

Sam gave Steve a knowing look, the only chance they had of escaping was to make a break for it.

Steve nodded, turning to run back down the alleyway with Sam right behind him. They were almost in the clear, close to the front of the house when a metal arm punched across Steve’s face to stop him running, only missing him by an inch.

Sam stumbled into Steve’s back at his sudden halt, the metal hand twisting to grab Steve by his throat. He was pulled around the corner, his back shoved against the brick wall of the house harshly.

“Steve?” Bucky’s face dropped in shock as he let go of his best friend’s throat. He stepped back and looked to the side, noticing a sheepish looking Sam. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

Steve and Sam both looked at each other before back at Bucky, noticing his wet body only covered by his track pants hanging low on his hips.

“I think the real question is, who are you doing here?” Sam asked cheekily, a cocky smirk on his face which got wiped off as soon as Steve hit his chest in annoyance.

“Bucky, we can ex-“

“How did you- Did you follow me here?” Bucky chose to ignore Sam’s comment, cutting Steve off before crossing his arms as he waited for an explanation.

There was another moment of silence as the two culprits looked at each other once again, saved by a small voice coming from beside them.

“Bucky, everything okay?” Y/N’s soft voice made all three boys turn to face her from where she stood on the porch, a slight whistle coming from Sam as they took in her appearance. Her hair was still wet, her body only covered by the shirt that Bucky had been wearing earlier that night.

Bucky sighed, running his flesh hand through his wet hair, his metal one firmly on his hip. “Yeah, baby. It’s just my friends.” Bucky said the word ‘friends’ through gritted teeth as he glared back at them.

“Oh,” Y/N perked up a little as she pranced down the steps to where they were, almost hiding behind Bucky as she cuddled his flesh arm. “I apologise for my appearance. If Bucky had told me you were coming I would’ve been more prepared.” She giggled softly, her reaction to the whole situation made all three boys frown in confusion.

They’d expected her to yell, to ask what the hell they were doing around the side of her house, to kick them out, to yell at Bucky for telling his friends about them without consulting her first, to just walk back into the house and ignore them. In that moment, Bucky knew she was a keeper.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Y/N spoke as the two boys opposite just blinked, half surprised that Bucky actually kept such a secret from them for this long. “I’m Y/N.” She held out her hand.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve immediately responded, stepping forward to shake her hand with a sweet smile.

“I’m Sam.” Sam followed, shaking her hand as

Bucky, still half confused about why his best friends were there, wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist. “So are you two-“ Sam dragged out the words.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Bucky responded shortly, Y/N’s heart fluttering at the word, something that was only shared between the two of them until now.

“Well we should all probably move inside, it’s a bit chilly out here tonight.” Y/N offered sweetly, gesturing towards the front door. “I hope you guys like brownies.”

taglist: 

@harrysthiccthighss​

@annestine​

[cuttoothed]

A little fic for @jonsimsandcats and also inspired by some adorable art on discord! Featuring notes on kitten rearing, and of course some Jmart because it’s me.

Jon works at the Institute here, but a non-spooky version of it!

*

Martin is doing a final check on the fish tanks when he hears the bell above the front door jingle. He sighs; he knew he should have locked up first. Just his luck.

“This is your fault,” he tells the angelfish balefully. They don’t seem contrite, too busy nosing in the fine gravel for any food they’ve missed. Martin walks out to the front of the shop, preparing his best customer service smile to tell whoever’s come in at—he glances at his watch—three minutes past eight that they’re closed, and no, they can’t just wander around for a few minutes to look at the animals. Honestly, some people seem to think there’s no difference between a pet shop and an art gallery.

There’s a man standing at the front counter, looking around anxiously, a bundled up jumper clutched against his chest.

“Sorry, we’re—” Martin begins, and that’s as far as he gets before the man unleashes a frantic tirade.

“Please!” the man says, “I need your help, I-I’m not sure they’re breathing and they were out there for hours on their own, I know you’re not supposed to move them in case their mother comes back but I couldn’t just—just leave knowing they were still there, and all the vet offices nearby are closed, this was the only place I could think of!”

The man is wild eyed, almost panicked, and Martin lifts both hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Woah,” he says, “Uh, maybe start from the beginning again? Slowly?”

“Right, ah, sorry. Sorry. I spotted them this morning, under a bush just outside my work.” The man sets the bundle of jumper down on the counter, and unfolds it to reveal two tiny scraps of fur: one gray, one black. Kittens, Martin realizes, so small they can only be a week or so old; certainly not old enough to be without their mother.

“I left them alone, because I’ve heard that the mother usually comes back after a little while. A-and I meant to go and check on them again during the day, make sure.” The man sounds anguished now, his face miserable. “But I—I got caught up in work, forgot about it. It was only when I was leaving that I remembered. And they were still there, on their own. Barely moving. Please—is there anything we can do?”

Martin looks down at the tiny creatures in their nest of wool; he can just about see the shallow in-out of their breathing. All day outside alone, at their age, the odds aren’t great. But he’s met enough kittens to know that they’re shockingly resilient little sods, and he’s never given up on a so-called hopeless case before. He’s not about to start now.

“You did the right thing moving them,” he assures the man, moving to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. “We need to get them warmed up and get some food into them. Body heat is the best thing for them right now—can you start warming them with your hands?”

“Oh—ah, yes,” says the man, turning to his bundle of jumper with a worried frown. Martin leaves him there while he rushes around the shop, grabbing kitten milk replacer and nursing bottles, and then into the back to heat two mugs of water in the microwave while he makes up the bottles. He pops them into the mugs to warm, and brings the whole lot out to the front. The man now has a kitten in each hand, and is holding them pressed carefully to his chest for additional warmth; his expression is still worried, but also desperately tender, and Martin feels a pang of something behind his ribs at the sight.

“One of them is moving,” the man says eagerly as Martin sets the bottles down. Martin can see the gray kitten wriggling weakly in the man’s grip, responding to the heat. Its sibling is still motionless, and Martin’s heart sinks a little.

“That’s great,” he says. “Hold onto her for another minute, and let me see if I can get her sister moving too.”

He holds out a hand, and the man almost reluctantly passes him the black kitten. Martin doesn’t try to notice that the man has lovely hands, with long, slim fingers, narrow wrist jutting out of his shirt sleeve, but, well, he notices a bit. He turns his attention to the kitten; he can’t make out the motion of its breathing anymore. He takes it in both hands and starts to massage it gently. It lies limp in his palms, head lolling, and Martin starts to feel despair crawling cold up his spine.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You can do it.” The man is watching him anxiously, the gray kitten cradled against his chest, and Martin knows he can’t give up. He keeps rubbing the kitten’s small body, trying to will warmth and life back into the tiny, fragile form. At last, after what seems like an eternity, the kitten squirms in his hands and a faint, plaintive mew escapes it. An answering mew comes from the gray kitten, and Martin laughs, relief washing over him.

“Right, let’s see if we can get them to eat.”

After checking that they’re not too chilled to feed, Martin tests each of the kittens with a drop of formula on their tongue; thankfully they both seem able to swallow without difficulty. He shows the man how to feed the gray kitten, holding its body in a neutral position with the bottle tilted for a gentle flow. It doesn’t take long for the kittens to figure out the process, and Martin can feel the tug on the bottle as his kitten begins to suckle.

“Oh,” he hears softly from beside him, and turns to see the man gazing in delight at the gray kitten, whose tiny, unfurled ears are twitching as it sucks.

“She’s doing great,” Martin comments. “Good job.” The man gives him a tentative, pleased smile, and Martin still isn’t trying to notice but it’s a very nice smile. “I’m Martin, by the way.”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon,” says the man, and then gives a small, tense laugh. “God, I haven’t even apologized for storming in here while you were clearly trying to close up for the night.”

“That’s all right, I didn’t have any exciting plans tonight anyway. I’d much rather be spending time with these little beauties.”

Jon smiles again, more sure this time, and all right, maybe Martin deliberately notices the dimple in his right cheek. Just a bit.

Once the kittens are fed, Martin shows Jon how to stimulate them; both of them only pee a little—poor things are dehydrated—but it’s a good sign. They clean them up and tuck them back into the nest of Jon’s jumper, where they curl up into a small puddle of black and gray. Jon gives a sigh that’s somewhere between relieved and exhausted.

“Thank you,” he says. “I, ah, I think I forgot to say that as well. You know a lot about this.”

“I volunteer at a shelter, there are a lot of kittens. If you like, I can take them for tonight and bring them in tomorrow?”

“Ah,” says Jon. “Do you think that’s—I mean...I-I’m not sure I’d feel right, handing them off to someone else. Not that I think you’re not capable!” he rushes to add, and Martin finds himself smiling.

“No, I get it. You found them, you want to take care of them. I’ll warn you, though, it’s a big commitment. For the first couple of weeks you have to feed them every two hours, even during the night, and then it’s every three or four hours until they start weaning. It’s like having a newborn baby.”

“I don’t get much sleep generally,” says Jon. “At least this way I’ll have something to do while I’m up all night. And my work is—well, I’ll explain the situation.”

He looks set on it, brow furrowed with determination. Martin considers arguing more: that a shelter will be better equipped to care for the kittens, that there’s no guarantee they’ll survive in any case, that Jon doesn’t know what he’s signing up for. But the shelters are always crowded, and kittens this young have simple needs, and really, a dedicated foster parent—armed with the right knowledge—is probably the best thing for them.

“Right,” he says, “Let’s make sure these two are well wrapped up before you take them home.”

He scrounges a cardboard box from the back and they settle the kittens into it, still wrapped in Jon’s jumper along with a soft fleece blanket printed with cartoon fish. Martin gathers a couple of cartons of liquid formula and extra bottles to get them started, and shows Jon how to pierce the nipple so the flow isn’t too strong.

“It should be warmed to body temperature,” he explains, “But not directly in the microwave—put the bottles in heated water, like I did earlier. Do you have a hot water bottle?”

“Yes, I do,” says Jon, frowning intently as he listens. Martin nods.

“It’s better than a heating pad at this age, they’re less likely to get overheated. Don’t make it too hot—body temperature, again—and wrap it in a blanket so they’re not touching it directly.”

“Got it,” says Jon firmly, and Martin believes him. He bags up the formula and bottles and an extra pet blanket, and presses them into the hands of a startled Jon; the till is shut off for the night, but Martin can explain and pay for the items tomorrow.

“What’s your phone number?” he asks, and Jon looks even more startled.

“S-sorry?”

“Or your email. I’m going to send you some links—videos, a couple of good blogs that should be helpful.”

“Oh, ah, right. Of course.” Jon recites his number and Martin saves it under “Jon (Kittens).” He peeks into the box one last time before Jon scoops it up, and sees the kittens snuggled in the folds of the jumper, paws waving in little kitten dreams.

“Thank you again, Martin,” says Jon. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” His tone is shy but genuine, and it sends warmth through Martin’s chest and up into his cheeks.

“Any time,” Martin says. “And feel free to text me if you need anything—if you have a question or...anything. Or call me if you like.” He’s aware he’s rambling a bit, but it’s not every day an attractive man says that he doesn’t know what he would have done without you, so he can hardly be blamed.

“I will,” says Jon solemnly.

*

He doesn’t text Martin any questions that night, but when Martin sends him the links to a youtube channel and three blog posts on kitten care, he replies:

Thank you :)

Martin spends most of the rest of the night wondering what that smiley face means.

*

He doesn’t necessarily expect to see Jon again, and certainly doesn’t expect to see him the very next day. But just before one o’clock in the afternoon the bell above the door jingles and there’s Jon, looking tired and more than a bit sheepish.

“I got all the way into work this morning before I realized I’d never paid for any of the things you gave me,” he says, reaching for his wallet.

“Those were gifts,” Martin tells him firmly. “Sort of a “welcome to foster parenthood” care basket?”

“No, I couldn’t let you—” Jon starts to protest, but Martin shakes his head emphatically.

“It’s no big deal, honestly. I get an employee discount anyway.”

“I...well, then I suppose I need to thank you yet again,” says Jon.

“It’s becoming a bit of a habit,” Martin jokes, grinning, and Jon smiles in return. He hesitates a moment before continuing:

“Maybe I could buy you lunch instead, then? To pay you back.”

“There’s no need, honestly,” says Martin, even as his brain berates him: What are you doing, idiot, he’s asking you to have lunch with him? Say yes!

“Please, I’d like to,” Jon says, and then gives a thoughtful frown. “Only if you want to, of course, don’t feel obligated—”

“I’m on lunch in five minutes,” Martin blurts out before he can overthink it.

“Great!” says Jon, sounding pleased. “If you have time, we could go by my office as well and visit the kittens. I just fed them before I came to see you.”

Before I came to see you, not before I came to pay you back, and Martin feels that warmth crawling up towards his cheeks again. Even if Jon’s intentions are purely friendly rather than...anything else, well, Martin could always use more friends.

“How were they last night?” he asks, and the smile that spreads across Jon’s face this time is pure delight.

“Oh I barely got an hour’s sleep,” he says, waving a hand. “And today they’re sitting under my desk reminding me every couple of hours that they need attention and that they are far more important than whatever I’m working on. They’re perfect.”

“Sounds like cat parenthood suits you,” Martin teases gently, and Jon laughs.

“I think it rather does.”

*

Lunch is...nice, and only slightly awkward in the “getting to know a new person” sort of way. Jon is serious, but also funny in an understated, acerbic way, and there’s a gentleness to him that wouldn’t be immediately apparent, if Martin hadn’t seen him cradling two tiny, fragile lives to his chest last night. He’s the kind of person Martin would like to know better, he thinks.

Afterwards they go to Jon’s workplace, which is extremely academic with a brass nameplate by the door and everything, and down to the basement office where Jon works; Martin doesn’t really know what archiving entails, but it looks like mostly a bloody great pile of paperwork. Jon’s two colleagues give Martin friendly and extremely curious glances as they pass; Jon pointedly ignores them in favor of directing Martin to his desk and the cardboard box sitting beneath it.

When Martin glances inside, the two kittens are curled up in the folds of the fish-print blanket, lying against the shape of what he assumes is the hot water bottle. Their bellies already look rounder than they were last night, thanks to regular feeding, and their limbs twitch as they sleep.

“I’ll take them to the vet for a check up after work,” Jon murmurs quietly, gazing down at them with a soft expression. Martin recognizes that look of adoration, and he knows this pair won’t be going to a shelter or anywhere else; they’ve found their home with Jon.

“They’re lucky you found them,” he says, and Jon smiles self-consciously.

“I think I’m the one who was lucky,” he says.

They spend a bit more time with the kittens, and then Martin realizes that it’s about time he got back to work if he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He excuses himself, waving goodbye to Jon’s still curious colleagues, and Jon walks him out to the grand front entrance of the building.

“Thanks again for lunch,” he says. “And—you have my number, right? The offer is open, if you need anything, just text me.”

“I will,” says Jon. “And, ah, let me know if you’d like to come and see the kittens again. Any day. Well, most days,” he corrects himself. “We could, ah, maybe have lunch again?”

“That sounds...really nice,” says Martin. Jon smiles, pleased, and Martin isn’t trying to notice the faint flush that spreads across his face, but it’s very cute anyway.

*

As he walks back to work, Martin’s phone vibrates with a text. It’s a picture of the kittens, curled up on top of each other, with the message:

Come back and see us soon!

Martin grins; the kittens, he thinks, weren’t the only ones lucky to be found last night.

[dontfeeltoohot]

happy birthday! I hope you have a good one :) tiny little bday prompt: locked out~

Thank you!! This is actually my second ‘locked out prompt’ I’ve gotten in the past hour LMAO. Y’all out here wanting misery 🤣 enjoy some locked out canon (divergent bc he lives) Eddie. Also this got a bit long, whoops.

X X X

Of course. Of fucking course today of all days he’s going to get locked out of his damn van. There’s no way he’s breaking his window or door, and though he knows how to break into a car, it requires a damn hanger which he doesn’t have. Sighing, he knows he’s going to have to get help.

The thing is, it’s fucking cold outside, and he’s already feeling like shit. Whatever flu’s been going around Hawkins has started hitting him since he woke up, and his dumb ass didn’t even wear a heavy jacket. The walk back to the trailer park is well over 5 miles from the pharmacy he’s just walked out of, a brown paper bag containing Tylenol, cough drops and a thermometer in his hand. The long haired man would rathe walk to Harrington’s than attempt walking icy back roads right now.

Harrington.

Looking around, he spots a pay phone down towards the next store, so Eddie huffs, grips the bag tighter, and walks over, careful of the patches of ice on the sidewalk. As he gets closer, he pauses to cough into his arm, grimacing as his throat stings. Fuck Hawkins and their inability to cover their damn mouths. After paying the 25¢ to call, the musician dials the ex-jocks number and waits, praying the guy is home.

“Harrington residence.” The voice, while still his friends, is much more enunciated and proper.

“Harrington, hey, it’s- snf! it’s Eddie.”

“Oh, hey man,” the voice on the phone relaxes into a completely different persona. “What’s up?”

“I kind of got locked out of my car…is there a way you could pick me up? I have a spare set of keys back at my-“ Eddie turns away to cough, before returning to the mouth piece. “-sorry, my trailer. I can come back to get it later.”

“Oh shit, yeah, I can pick you up. Where are you?”

Eddie can’t help but thank whatever higher power there is. He’s starting to feel gross and achy, and while he knows his name has been cleared, people still look at him with disdain. Going back into the pharmacy, or any other store, really, isn’t his best option. Freezing to death would suck too.

“The pharmacy down off Main.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in like..ten minutes. Just gotta find a jacket and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks princess.”

By the time Harrington gets there, Eddie’s shivering, nose pink from both the temperature and the attention he’s been giving it from it getting runny. Hauling himself up, body feeling ungodly heavy, the twenty year old walks up to the others car and gets in, instantly blasted with heat. Thank fuck.

“Sorry about this,” Eddie clicks his seatbelt and puts his bag on his lap, wincing as he swallows.

“No worries man, seriously. Happy to help. What were you doing over here anyway? It’s cold as hell, would think you of all people would just stay in your house and keep warm,” Steve smiles, and Eddie watches, warmth pooling in his stomach.

“Think that shit that’s been going around finally hit me, needed to grab some Tylenol, we don’t really have anything at the trailer.”

Rubbing his face, he’s thankful Harrington knows where his place is, even if the reason for knowing sucks. He’s too tired to keep his eyes open, though he wishes he could, with someone as hot as Steve sitting next to him. Eddie curls away from the driver and presses his arm tight to his face, not wanting to get his germs all over the man’s car.

“Damn, that sucks. Robin just caught it too. I had it back last week, finally feeling human again,” he explains, looking at Eddie in sympathy.

“Why does it not surprise me you caught it first?”

“Yeah yeah, my immune system sucks,” Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “Have you eaten? We can grab soup on the way.”

“Nah, I’m not hungry. But thanks anyway.”

“I was going to bring some to Robin anyway. You sure? It’ll save me a trip too.”

And damn, Eddie’s too gone on Steve fucking Harrington to say no to that, especially when he’s been grateful enough to come pick him up in the first place. Forcing his eyes open, he looks at the man and nods.

“Yeah, that’s fine then. I don’t need any though, kind of scared I might hurl it up if I try to eat it.”

Steve turns down one street, then back up on to Main, parking in front of the small family owned deli. He keeps the car running, then puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right back. You just stay here and relax.”

As if Eddie would do anything else. He drifts for a bit, letting the aches and chill take over. A door opening and shutting makes him open his eyes again, and Steve is there with two brown bags, setting them in the back of his nice BMW.

They don’t speak as Steve drives, Eddie’s too tired and the other man seems to respect that. He did say he’d been sick last week with it, he probably still remembers how awful talking is. The long haired man leans his too warm temple against the cold window, a tiny, quiet moan escaping his mouth.

“Eddie? Hey man, we’re here,” Steve shakes his shoulder gently, and he opens his eyes, feeling worse. Damn this shit hits quick.

“Thank you, seriously,” Eddie gives the shaggy haired man as much of a smile as he can muster.

“No problem, what was I going to do, say no?”

“Could have. Instead you were my knight in shining armor,” Eddie jokes, grabbing his pharmacy bag, opening the door.

“Oh! Here.” Steve thrusts one of the two bags from the deli at him.

“What-“

“It’s soup. I know you said you did t want any, but…you might get hungry later.”

“…you bought me soup?”

“Yeah? It’s not a big deal.”

“Thanks Stevie.”

Half an hour later, Eddie’s back in sweatpants and one of Wayne’s old, heavy sweaters. If he finishes the entire cup of soup, almost wishing for me, well….Steve won’t need to know.

[theringers]

counting crimes - pierre gasly

illicit affairs, part three

summary: “wandering eyes and comfortable lies, you seem to sleep just fine” counting crimes / nessa barrett

a/n: i’m thinking there’s only gonna be two more parts but that may change, we’ll see. enjoy this and let me know what u think! feedback is always appreciated xoxo

also this gif today killed me

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, semi public sex shocker!, lil angst, cocky pierre

Your eyes widen as you try to comprehend what to do. Someone was at the door and Pierre was still inside of you, in shock. “Hey, y/n? Are you in there?” Max’s voice could be heard through the door. He tried to push the door in but the deadbolt stopped him.

You glared at Pierre, cleared your throat and placed a finger on his lips. “Yes, give me a few seconds.” You panicked and pulled your dress up, trying not to make too much noise.

Where the fuck was Pierre supposed to go? You should have just kept quiet. Your eyes focused on the window and you pointed towards it, quietly shoving him out.

He squeezed himself through the window and stepped down onto the grass. After quietly shutting the window, you looked in the mirror and readjusted your dress. Your hair needed some readjusting as well, so you quickly brushed through it.

You unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to see your husband. “Hey,” he smiled at you, genuinely happy to see you.

“Hi, Max.” Your voice was shaking but you smiled to try to play it off. You usually had a good amount of time to psych yourself up before you went back to Max but you could still feel how Pierre had fucked you.

You were awful. He placed his hands on your hips and kissed your cheek. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re kind of hot.” He placed the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Yeah, it was really hot in there but I feel better now.” Hopefully he would buy that story.

“Well, if you’re feeling better now, I have an idea.” His hands rested on your hips again and pulled you into his body. “We have a few minutes to kill. What do you say we have a little bit of fun in here? It is our anniversary after all.” His lips found your neck and placed soft, gentle kisses on the skin. “You look so beautiful tonight, baby.” You were feeling sexually frustrated after being interrupted but he was right. It was your anniversary, so what the hell.

You leaned your neck to the side, inviting him in. “I love this dress, but it needs to come off.” He looked you in the eyes and smiled, reaching around for the zipper. He bent his knees and slowly pulled your dress to your ankles. His hands rested around your calves and move upwards while his lips trailed kisses on the soft skin of your thighs.

His finger pushed aside your panties and he slid a finger between your folds. “Jesus baby, you’re so wet.” He smiled and looked up at you. You moaned and rolled your eyes into the back of your head to avoid making eye contact with him. His tongue found its way between your legs, licking lightly before fucking your pussy with his tongue. You let out a moan while your body jerked toward his face uncontrollably. You needed him to finish you off so badly.

His fingernails ran lightly over the skin on your abdomen down to your thighs. “Oh, Max” you moaned.

Your hand quickly covered your mouth, remembering that even though he wasn’t out there possibly listening there were other people who shouldn’t hear you right now either.

He pulled his suit pants down and took himself in his hand, smiling at you. “I love you,” he said before entering you. He pressed against your body and thrusted up into you while looking in your eyes.

“I love you too, baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a moan.

Sometimes you forgot what it was like to have sex without the looming threat of someone finding out. Instead of worrying about someone catching you cheating, you were able to focus on the sensation and the intimacy but even now, something was missing.

Max left the bathroom before you, allowing you more time to clean up and look normal. You didn’t want to draw any more attention. “Hey guys, sorry I wasn’t feeling to well.” You said, grabbing your napkin off the table and taking your old seat. Max looked flushed for obvious reasons and couldn’t hide his smile.

You turned to your left and smiled at Pierre and Anna. “Did I miss anything?” Pierre’s gaze was glued to the stage ahead and he refused to look at you. His jaw was clenched and you could feel the steam coming out of his ears. You made eye contact with Anna and cocked your head in confusion. Why was he acting this way? Maybe Anna thinks it’s something she did wrong.

“Nothing important, for us at least,” she said, fixing single pieces of her hair.

Max’s hand gripped your inner thigh and he looked over to you and smiled. You returned the smile but immediately looked in Pierre’s direction to see him still refusing to look at you, his fist balled at his side.

Hotels in random cities at 2 am are lonely. The sound of Max’s snores kept you awake longer than expected. Your mind was wandering to places you wish it wouldn’t and you couldn’t get silence long enough to dream. The air conditioner in the room was set to the coolest temperature - hotel air always hitting different. Your mouth was dry, making you uncomfortable and adding to another thing making you unable to sleep.

You pulled the covers aside in frustration and grabbed a pair of shorts to put on under Max’s oversized Red Bull Racing shirt. You looked around for the room key and slid it off the table as soon as you spotted it.

As you stood in the elevator, you looked down and noticed your bare feet. It was 2 am so you were hoping there was no one important in the lobby. You just wanted a sip of cold water to help put you to sleep.

The night before races always made you nervous. You never knew what was going to happen so you had a constant pit in your stomach over your husband’s safety. That stress only increased when you began sleeping with another driver. Someone else’s safety to worry about.

You smiled at the older couple that greeted you when the elevator door opened. You crossed your arms and tip toed to the mini bar, grabbing the largest bottle of water they carried. After giving the gentleman your room number, you ran towards the closing elevator doors only to be met with familiar blue eyes. His hair was messy and his skin was glowing from sweat.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, stepping to one side. Even though he clearly just worked out you could still smell the strong scent of his cologne. “How have you been, y/n?”

“I’ve been okay. Your summer break looked fun,” you took a quick sip of your water and smiled at him.

“As did yours.” The silence was uncomfortable. You two were always laughing and talking nonstop. It was what you loved about him.

You focused on the pounding of your heart and your eyes wandered, trying to pass the uncomfortable time.

You suddenly lost your balance as the elevator shook, the lights flickered off, and the cables stopped. Turning your head towards Pierre, you began to get worried.

“Did this just break?” He asked, pressing the floor buttons and hoping the lights would come back on.

“Just our luck.” You laughed at yourselves. Why did the universe hate you? You plopped down onto the ground and twiddled your thumbs, realizing that you left your phone in the hotel room. “Do you have your phone?” You asked Pierre.

He lifted his wrist to show his apple watch. “I just went on a run. I never bring it with me on a run.” Of course he didn’t.

You groaned and banged your head on the wall behind you.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” He laughed, pleased with himself. He slid down to join you on the floor, the summer heat starting to creep into the elevator.

After not speaking for the entire summer break, this unconventional meeting was quite uncomfortable. You watched on Instagram as him and his wife vacationed in Bali, looking happy as ever. Granted, he did the same with you but he would never admit it. He had too much pride.

“Why didn’t you ever reach out?” You asked him, bluntly.

He looked at you making you feel dumb. “Why do you think I didn’t? I spent four weeks straight with Anna. Would you want me calling you up while you were on holiday with Max?”

“I don’t know,” you stumbled over your words. “I just would have liked to talk to you.”

“I told you before, I can’t keep doing this.” He said, exhausted at the back and forth you two had done.

“Yet, you do. You tease me and torture me and then say you need to be devoted to her. It’s not fair to me.” You let out a deep breath, exhausted over feeling this way.

“You want to talk about fair? You had sex with Max right after me. Less than five minutes after I was inside of you, he was too.”

You looked at him confused.

“I thought you were just going to talk to him for a few moments and then send him off.” Oh no. “I was waiting for you to open the window and let me back in.” He ran his hands over his face.

“Pierre, I’m so-”

“Don’t, y/n.”

He heard you and Max. You felt remorse for doing it, putting Pierre through that. But at the same time, you didn’t. Pierre is sleeping with his friend’s wife. He has no place to be jealous or mad. He comes second.

“How much did you hear?”

“I left when I heard him talk about how wet you were. He thought it was because of him but he had no idea that it was all for me.” Pierre scooted closer to you and put his hand on your thigh.  “He has no idea how wet you get for me.” He moved in closer to your ear. “How good I make you feel.”

Your head spun at his words. When he made you cum, you forgot about everything in the entire world except for him.

“I’m really sorry, Pierre. That was shitty of me.” You rested your hand on his chest. “Let me make it up to you.” Your hand moved to his thigh and grazed over his thin mesh gym shorts.

You pulled his shorts off and took him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head. He pulled your loose hair into his hand as a makeshift ponytail. He let soft groans escape his lips, being mindful of the setting. He would look down to see you taking him fully and have to look away or else he would finish quicker than he would like. Each time his eyes trailed down, his hips thrusted uncontrollably and a grunt would leave his lips.

“That’s it baby,” he said, in a low tone but almost whining. “God, your mouth feels so good. It was made to take my cock.” He continued to fill your mouth and throat, making you gag and tighten around him.

He pulled your head up by your hair and looked at you. “Come sit on my face.” He looked at your outfit, examining how he could take it off in the easiest way possible. He slipped off your comfortable sweat shorts, leaving you in just your Red Bull tee.

He laid down on the ground and hoisted your legs up and around his chest, getting the perfect view of your ass.

You stroked his cock and started to grind your hips against his chest. He took you in his hands immediately, not up for teasing, and pulled you onto his face. You rocked your hips over his face at a slow, light pace while still focusing on taking him in your mouth.

His tongue flicked your clit while his thumbs massaged your ass, pressing down hard and most definitely leaving bruises.

You moaned at the feeling of your legs beginning to tingle. He loved to 69 with you because every time you got an ounce of pleasure, your moans vibrated around his cock. You would tighten your throat and gag, sending him down a spiral. You both knew how to make each other feel incredible.

His facial hair tickled your inner thighs and left light scratches on the skin. As you ground your hips into his mouth, the sensation got rougher but the pleasure just increased.

He used his ab muscles to thrust into your throat, looking for his release. You tightened your grip around the base of his cock and suctioned even harder with your mouth as he let go.

Your legs went fully numb as the tension began to build in your stomach. You reached your peak, hearing Pierre’s tongue lap at your juices.

You rolled off of his body, looking for your shorts. The guilt was already beginning to set in and you couldn’t escape it now. You were stuck.

Pierre wiped his mouth with his hand and you noticed his whole face was wet. He was still smiling.

“I just hope Anna and Max aren’t standing there waiting for us when these doors decide to open.”

“Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?” You laughed, brushing your fingers through your now knotty hair.

Pierre pulled his shorts back on and looked at you. “Now be honest with me, who eats your pussy better? Me or him?”

“You can’t ask me that.”

“I can and I did.”

“Well, I’m not going to give you an answer.”

He laughed at you, not the reaction you were expecting. “Don’t worry, I already have the answer. I heard the sounds you make when he’s between your legs. It’s nothing compared to the sounds you just made for me.” He winked at you, knowing exactly where you stand with him.

next part

[burnedbyshoto]

house sitting & concupiscence

— In which Endeavor asks Shouto for a favor, and Shouto decides to take his payment by fucking you on his bed. —

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, 18+ smut, dom!shouto, masturbation, toys (spreader bar, bondage, vibrator, collar, leash, gag, & fuck machine), master kink, spanking, temperature play, marking, pain, choking, torture punishment, overstimulation, voyeurism, slapping, oral (giving), hair pulling (receiving), semi-brat taming, anal (receiving), breeding kink

word count: 18,631

a/n: i know its long, but,,, please read LMAO. this took me a full ass week to write. im exhausted, im buzzing because idk how this went LMAOOOO, let me know what you think! please carefully read the warning, I will not be addressing anything about anal in my askbox (unless youre roasting me, which is understandable because lmao)

message to join tag list :)

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Why are we going to your dad’s house?”

Tonight was supposed to be your date night with Shouto, and given that for the past two months, the two of you had been busy every day and night adjusting to being working adults, the two of you had been excited to go out. Next week would make two years, but it seemed the two of you would only be able to celebrate it during the dead of night. So, with a kind smile and a gentle kiss, you convinced Shouto that the two of you could celebrate the week prior. After all, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t quite two years; you both loved each other plenty enough to overlook the actual date.

Like for any celebration, you found yourself sitting in front of your vanity mirror as you applied your makeup. Your hair was done up in the most elegant style you could muster on your own, and you wore a simple yet gorgeous little black dress. Your head tilted in the mirror as you looked at your reflection. Your legs were shapely and smooth from the increased physical work you were doing, and the heels you paired with the outfit hung from your fingers.

You thought you looked hot, to say the least. What you didn’t expect was for Shouto to step into your shared room with his nostrils flared and eyes cold. Your eyes widened as you turned toward him, but the anger in his face disappeared immediately as he took you in.

His eyebrow quirked; a natural smile pressed into his face as his hands shoved into the pocket of his slacks.

“Don’t you look beautiful,” Shouto comments as he strolls up next to you. The steps were so casual, it was as if the two of you were strangers flirting in a bar, and not lovers two years into a serious relationship. “Who got you this outfit?”

Biting your lip, you chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck, and you relaxed as he locked his around your waist. Your fingers rose to brush his short hair, the undercut was new, but it was a look you very much enjoyed on him.

Rising up onto your toes, you smile, seeing the way he leans towards you until your ruby painted lips brush against his earlobe.

“Your brother,” you tease, laughing loudly as he moves away, mock disgust and jealousy on his face.

“My brother? I’ll teach you to accept such pretty things from people who aren’t me,” Shouto warns as his fingers slip under the hem of the dress, eliciting a shout from you. He doesn’t seem to be deterred as his fingers hike the skirt of the dress further up until your cheeks turn red, and your protests are nothing but stutters.

“T-The reservations, Shoucchan,” you manage to get out as his lips press against your jugular vein.

“What about them?” Shouto mumbles against your skin as he backs you towards the bed.

“They’re s-soon,” you gasp as his teeth skim your skin, and his hands massage slowly against your ass. “We can’t miss it.”

Two months of hardly seeing each other also meant two months of not having sex or any sort of physical contact, and your actions exposed your need quickly. Your heels dropped with a loud clang, and you let Shouto do as he pleased.

To your dismay, however, the clatter of your heels on the floor caused Shouto’s ministrations to cease. Your eyes blinked as you focused back on him, your chest hammering and lust scorching your skin as you tried to concentrate on your boyfriend.

“Shouto?”

His eyes were once more consumed with the irritation and annoyance that had plagued him before you two interacting. Groaning loudly, you did not miss the way his eyes rolled before he focused back onto you.

“…we have to cancel the reservation.”

So, there you sit in the car, still dressed up with Shouto to your right driving, his hands clenching so tight around the wheel that his knuckles are white.

You sigh and tug his arm towards you. The way he attempts to jerk his arm away doesn’t escape you, but you still clutch his arm and lace your fingers with his. You place a soft kiss to the back of his hand and smile when you see him relax. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to leave me in the dark?” You ask again, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

Shouto sighs and looks over at you. His face is still set with annoyance, but his eyes brighten when he looks at you, and his lips quirk into the smallest of smiles.

“You’re annoying,” he says, and you scoff in protest. He smiles broader and brings your hand to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to it.

Shifting in the leather seat to face him a bit better, you stretch towards him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Answer my question, brat!”

Shouto sits there for a bit, gathering his emotions before he sighs, annoyed once again. “He asked Fuyumi-nee to take care of his house for tonight.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. You know that Fuyumi has a vital interview tomorrow for her job, and knowing the hero’s life, she would have to stay there late into the night. “Doesn’t she have the—?”

“Yeah, so she said no,” Shouto sighs, his hand in yours tightening. “Natsuo also has a lot of exams, and he and Endeavor aren’t on good terms still, so… that’s why he couldn’t take it. So, Endeavor called me and pulled a ‘you owe me a favor’ card from our second year. Didn’t fucking care that I had plans.”

“Why does he need someone to take care of his house?” You ask, trying to keep Shouto from hyper-fixating onto Endeavors’ ignorance detail. “He lives there alone?”

“He’s paranoid about some low-class villains going to his door when no one is there since his address was exposed,” Shouto rolls his eyes as the two of you pull into the driveway of Endeavors Residence. “Some fucking number one hero he is.”

“And he wanted Fuyumi to watch the house?!” You gasp, your eyes widening. Shouto nods his head as he unbuckles his seatbelt, and he’s out of the door before you could finish asking your question. You sigh and unbuckle your belt, knowing how infuriated Shouto is.

Your brush your hair out of your face, and the car door opened. You looked up with a small grin as Shouto offered you a hand.

“If I’m being forced to spend our anniversary here, I’m going to do it correctly, as if everything was going according to plan.”

Giggling, you let Shouto help you out of the car, and you couldn’t help but bring your exasperated boyfriend in for a gentle kiss. The kiss lasts less than a few seconds, but as you pull away, the irritability on Shouto’s face is gone as he smiles.

“I love you,” he says, closing the car door behind you.

“I love you too.” You smile like a lovestruck idiot as he begins to lead you to the front door. “We should have brought our costumes; surprise a few lowlives with our signatures.”

“Are you suggesting we let them rob Endeavor?” Shouto asks as he unlocks the front door.

“I just might be!” You laugh as you step in and remove your shoes.

It was currently five in the evening, and thus your date night commenced.

After two hours, you found yourself curled up on Shouto’s lap. You busied yourself with shoving popcorn in his mouth as you two watched Avatar the Last Airbender. The two of you had been watching it together since Shouto finally confessed that he had no idea why he was always compared to Prince Zuko.

Months of watching a few episodes every occasional night when you two had time lead you two to the finale now.

“I see the comparison now,” Shouto admitted with a mouthful of popcorn, and you hushed him again.

“Zuko may die!” You cried as on the screen, Zuko faced off with Azula, “He can lose, and you finally getting the comparison to the hottest man in the world is not a good excuse to distract me!”

“We can use fire, a scar, and a horrible father,” Shouto continues talking despite your attempts to quiet him as fire and lightning roared on the screen. “I was never the bad guy, was I?”

“You were a complete prick in the beginning, like Zuko,” you point out as you still focus entirely onto the T.V., “I mean, you did threaten to kill someone when we were fifteen. Talk about edgy! Plus, you didn’t want friends until Deku destroyed half of his body for you!”

“You’re an asshole,” Shouto huffs as he pushes you off of him, and you groan as you watch as he stands up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You call after him as you sit up onto your knees, you faced him as he walked out with his cellphone raised for you to see that he was getting a call from Endeavor.

Your mouth drops, and you nod as Shouto walks outside to talk with his dad. You settle back down onto the couch and grab the remote, pausing the show and sinking into the sofa. Your fingers brush against your dress as you wait for Shouto to come back.

It felt like an eternity before Shouto returned; the front door slamming behind him, causing you to wince. Shouto stormed over, his eyes blazing with fury, and he clenched a case in his hand as he glared in your direction. It would have been unsettling had you not known whom his anger was directed at. He stops a few strides away from you, clearly not in the mood to finish up the Avatar series.

“What happened, baby?” You ask, standing up. A soft scoff escapes his lips as he shakes his head.

“He thought I was here alone,” Shouto explains, his head low. “He makes me come take care of his house, knowing that I had plans tonight, then he expected me to be here alone?!”

Your eyes widen as a chill runs down your spine. Endeavor was not a people person, that was a given, and there was no saying whether or not he liked you being Shouto’s girlfriend, but for him to not like the idea of being here was a bit off-putting.

“Do you need me to leave?” you find yourself asking as you walked over to Shouto with short strides. You knew that their relationship, while it had vastly improved since three years ago, was still rocky. You wanted Shouto to be as comfortable around his dad as much as possible, even if it meant you stepping away when needed. “I can get—”

“No,” Shouto snaps, his nostrils flaring, a furious fire flashing in his eyes, and his lips curling into a wry smile. “You’re not leaving.”

“If Endeavor doesn’t want me—”

“Fuck what Endeavor wants,” Shouto growls as he lets you pull him into a soft embrace, but he’s tense and doesn’t melt into your touch like he usually does. “I want you, y/n, and he ruined our night. He doesn’t have the damn right to tell me what I can or can’t do when I’m happy.”

You nervously licked your lips as you stroked his back gently in hopes of derailing his palpable anger. There was just no use in having Shouto getting worked up about something that Endeavor wasn’t going to be able to change in the long run anyway.

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you pull away, your eyes trying to shine brightly as you press a gentle kiss to his mouth. “I won’t leave!”

There’s a harsh stream of air that escapes his nose, and he’s stiff against you, his lips unmoving, but he returned the kiss nonetheless.

“This is our night,” you whisper against his mouth as your lips press against his jawline and pepper slow kisses down his jaw. He seems to have an internal battle of remaining angry and caving to your touch. “You have a room here, it’s just us two, let’s have some fun! Come on, forget about Endeavor.”

As a hero, there were moments where you could feel impending danger or something on the horizon. Be it a sixth sense, or just fantastic gut feeling, but the moment those words left your mouth, they hit you in the gut. Pulling away, your eyes focus on Shouto, whose eyes are shut tight, and you watch as his jaw muscle flares before his eyes open.

Todoroki Shouto was no longer his younger self. While still prone to acting solely on his emotions, he was in control. The last time you had seen the pure rage in Shouto’s eyes was long before the two of you had been together, and something crawled down your spine as you attempted to speak, to understand what he was thinking about, and to stop whatever he was planning.

But then he let out a dark chuckle.

And you were too slow.

His mouth slams against yours, and your body goes back with the collision, but he doesn’t let you free. His kiss is hot, drowning, intoxicating, and full of burning energy that you didn’t realize he had in him. His free hand presses into your lower back, keeping you pressed against him as his mouth tries to get you to break. Your hands press against his shoulders in an attempt to slow him down, but it doesn’t seem to have the effect you were hoping for.

His hand leaves the bottom of your back to tangle into your hair, your resounding groan of both pain and pleasure resonates through you, and it clouds your judgment. Your hands — against your better sense — wrap around the back of his neck, drawing him in closer. His hot tongue swiped at your bottom lip immediately.

Not wanting to give in to his insistence, you purse your lips against his harsh kiss. He didn’t seem to agree with you. The hand that held the black case smacked against your ass, and you gasped at the stinging pain as the case rattled.

His tongue invades your mouth in an intense affair, and your mind spins at the way his tongue drops in temperature before warming up. It sends a pleasant and dull throb through your body, and you moan into his mouth. Were you really going to let Shouto fuck you in a house that wasn’t yours? The two of you had fucked in places that weren’t your house, but it was never a family home, much less his dad’s house, but his tongue curls to tease the roof of your mouth, and it sends an uncontrollable shudder down your spine.

Your cheeks glow with embarrassment, and your eyes are wide in shock. “Shouto’s really going for it,” you thought. His lips are scorching, but it’s his eyes that make your thighs tremble. His eyes are nearly glowing with lust and desire, there’s still that animosity in his eyes and a sense of arrogance that made you want nothing more than to retaliate.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s happening tonight,” Shouto smirks, and you pant trying to control your racing heart.

“You know I am,” you lie confidently, despite the tremor in your voice and the weakness in your knees.

His hand moves to your cheeks, and you feel a growing heat from his hand as he places yet another ardent kiss onto your slowly bruising lips. Shouto’s lips are magnetic against yours, continuously pulling you in, sucking you in until you were gasping for more. Then he would move to nibble on your senseless lips in your overwhelmed state.

Low and soft pants with intermixed gasps begin to leave your mouth as you try to calm down, this kiss was so unlike his typical embrace, but you fucking loved this dominant persona that he dons. Your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him nearer, eliminating the space between you so that nothing could dare to come between, but your hips have a mind of their own, and you feel yourself grinding your crotch against his.

A low and nearly angry hiss leaves his lips, and your breath hitches as his mouth leaves yours. In a fashion similar to yours earlier that day, his mouth presses multiple kisses against your jawline, but they’re sturdy, intense, and full of teeth. Your mouth drops as you let out a curled moan at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin below your jaw.

It wasn’t a typical love bite; this was marking. You could feel his intent to break your skin with the mark, and the heat between your legs flared as he took a step forward, and with that, you made a step back.

You’ve only been to this house a few times, and most of the time, you only come here for Fuyumi’s sake of keeping the family close. Awkward yet lively dinner conversations had led to Shouto showing you his childhood room that hadn’t been touched since he was fifteen. Sure, the two of you were nineteen, but a bedroom that hadn’t been touched in four years was something sinisterly haunting.

Shouto’s bedroom was the closest to the master bedroom — Endeavors room. That you knew because the grandest and most intricately beautiful door in this house belonged to Endeavors’ room.

Imagine the horror that sank in your when your lust hazed vision watched as Shouto’s childhood room passed you and your back hit a door.

“Shouto! This is—”

“I know,” Shouto growled against your burning neck. He had left enough bites on your neck to hurt, but the throbbing pain only added to the throbbing heat of your core. “You deserve to be fucked on a good bed, not my childhood one.”

“But Endeavor!” Pathetically you try to get him to move off you, but Shouto opens the door, and the two of you stumble in. “We can’t—!”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles as he pulls away from your marked neck, “he won’t know.”

Your eyes widened as he lets you go, and you hesitated in moving towards the enormous bed before you. This was too much, you couldn’t let Shouto fuck you on his dad’s bed! That would be so disrespectful! Blatant and honest disrespect! Even if Shouto was in a “fuck his dad” mood, you couldn’t let this happen.

Turning to face your boyfriend, the release of him on your body, allowing you to think logically, you were ready to stay firm in your decision.

“What are you doing?” Shouto asks as he walks to the bed, placing the black box onto the bed with a quirked eyebrow. “Get on the bed.”

“N-No,” you wheeze out. Wow, go confident you! “We can’t fuck on Endeavors bed! T-That’s going too far! I… I can’t do that!”

Shouto blinked slowly, once, twice, and then returned his attention back to the case as he released the clasps.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shouto says as he lays out a few things from the box, and a nervous shiver goes down your spine as you see what he brought.

A collar, leash, vibrator wand, ball gag, a spreader bar with bondage cuffs, so much lube, and a fucking machine.

Your jaw drops as he lays them out neatly, his eyes turning back towards you, and there’s a silent moment where the two of you simply stare at each other.

“That’s going too far,” you squeak as you pull at the hem of your dress, the nerves hit you as he shifts to look at you directly. “I can’t… if Endeavor found out, he’s going to kill us!”

“Endeavor isn’t going to find out,” Shouto’s upper lip curled into a snarl as his eyes flashed dangerously. “We’ll wash the sheets, whatever the hell makes you convinced he won’t find out. But right now? I fucking need you the way I was planning on having you.”

His words fall almost alluringly in your ears, and goosebumps flash across your skin; butterflies fly in your stomach as you moan at the thought of what his intentions were for tonight. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you thought it over, trying to figure out what exactly you needed to do because there was no getting out of this. You were beyond horny now, but it didn’t take much to see the danger in doing this.

But no, you couldn’t do this!

“Shouto, let’s — oh my god!”

Shouto, while you were lost in your thoughts, had begun to strip off his shirt. His toned and scarred torso ridiculously defined in the lighting of the room, and he stared at you dead-on as he ran a hand through his falling locks. Your breathing turns into a frenzy as he walks over to you, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks until he’s centimeters before you.

Your eyes struggle not to scour your boyfriend’s body like some hormonal fangirl, you recited the Pro Hero Guidebook in your head as you fought off the urge to just jump him. Were pheromones a thing for humans? If they were, he was definitely putting you under some spell that was making you succumb to his own lusts.

“I know what I want,” he whispers as his lips brush against your sore neck, and a voluptuous moan resounds loudly from you. Your breasts rise and fall quickly as your hands press against his warm skin, and your eyes flutter closed as his lips press heavier against your skin. “I know what I need. I need you more than life itself, and I only want you, y/n.”

Not daring to open your eyes in fear of having this gone too soon, you feel yourself nodding.

“Fuck me right then…”

A chuckle deep in his throat reverberated against you, and then you felt his lips back on you.

Hot, fast, dangerous.

You struggled to keep up as Shouto tossed you up, and your legs automatically went to wrap around his waist.

Hunger, desire, need.

That was the way Shouto kissed you right now, his lips downright eager, yet it wasn’t the right word to use. You could feel his hard-on pressing against your ass as you drew him in closer. Hands pressed against his neck, clawing at the bare skin as you wanted more from him — you craved more from him.

It was when you pressed your chest into him that caused a small yelp of protest to escape your lips. In your impassioned drunkness, Shouto had been holding your ass firmly in his grip. His fingers digging into your soft flesh under the hem of your dress until he seemed to be sick of it.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed in your ears as you pulled away from Shouto’s luring mouth. The dress fell loose around your body as you watched as he pulled the remains of your dress from between the two of you. You slammed your hands against his chest in protest as Shouto took the destroyed material and tossed it onto the floor.

“It was in the way,” Shouto chuckles as he ignores your protests as he brings you back in for another kiss. “I’ll buy you a new one, I’m the one who bought it after all.”

Your eyes twitch as his fingers trace the lingerie that remained secured on your body; the anger you had vanished quickly the moment he brushed his thumb over your clothed nipple. Yes, there were apparent problems with knowing everything about your partner’s body, as in times like this, your anger flew out the window as his thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple.

You reacted with a shrill mewl as your hips automatically ground against his, and your head slammed against his shoulder. You felt his cold fingers press the bra down, and your mind nearly went blank as his calloused fingers made contact with your sensitive nipples.

“S-Shouto,” you stammer as you feel your neck blushing as his teeth nip at your earlobe, tingling pleasure scorching your body as he does it a few more times. Low and sultry moans escape your mouth as the heightening bliss of this interaction was getting to you.

“Fuck,” Shouto chuckled as he began moving towards the bed, and you tremble as the friction between your crotches increase. The pressure of his clothed cock sends your mind spinning against your barely covered core. “You’re so gorgeous, love.”

Panting in agreement, your hips bucked weakly against his as the pleasure of him biting your earlobe, his fingers pinching, pulling, and rolling your nipple, and the way his hips met your grinding hips.

Low and pounding heat grew in your stomach, and you whimpered as his hand groped your breast.

But then it was gone, and your body was tossed against a soft bed.

The coolness and freshness of the sheets once more sent a memory of whose bed this was. And the consequences for your actions.

“Shouto!” You squeaked as Shouto climbed onto the bed, his hands holding the lube as his eyes glanced at you.

Lust, amazement, love, and confusion.

“What is it?”

“This is Endeavors bed,” you find yourself repeating, although you were past the point of caring. It just came back up like word vomit.

“Fuck what he says,” Shouto snaps as he drops the lube. His eyebrows were scrunched together in his annoyance and anger, and you could see the muscles flaring in his jaw. There’s a cold laugh that leaves Shouto’s mouth as he grabs the spreader, and you feel your heart stop. “I don’t like it when you’re saying other trash names when I’m about to fuck you, princess.”

Your eyes widen as Shouto is by your feet with the spreader, his head down, and his hair falling to cover his dark eyes.

“I think you need to prove to me that you deserve to let me fuck you.”

Before you could ask, before you could question his actions, Shouto tore your panties from your hips and held them in his fingers. His eyes widening as he sees the soaked thin fabric between his fingers.

You sat up straight, trying to grab for your panties, embarrassed by how wet you had been even though practically nothing had happened. But Shouto was faster and far stronger. With a heavy hand, he shoved your shoulder back, and you fell back onto the mattress, and as you collected yourself, something tight wrapped around your ankles.

“SHOUTO!”

On your ankles sat the spreader bar, the black steel shining dangerously at you as you stared up at your boyfriend, who placed your panties into his slack pockets.

“You’ll get those back if you behave,” Shouto hums as he sat down. “Now, if you want my cock, you better make yourself cum.”

“I’m not masturbating,” you snap embarrassed as you felt exposed. Your legs were wide open, your slick essence already coating your inner thighs and the smell of your sex filling your nose as you tried in repetitive failure to close your legs.

“Fine,” Shouto says coolly as he stands up from the bed. “Have fun letting Endeavor see you like this. Cunt wet and exposed like a filthy fucking whore.”

You’re stunned into silence as you watch as he walks towards the door, his eyes unamused yet challenging as he places a hand on the knob.

“But you would like that, huh? You’d let other men fuck what’s mine? Is this what you wanted all along?”

Shouto lets out a dry laugh as he dares you to not do anything, but the pure stupidity behind his words makes you angry. It boils in your stomach as you lay down, your eye contact not breaking as you pull down the other bra cup. Then your fingers trail from your collarbone down to your breasts, teasing your pert nipples.

Electrifying pleasure rolls through you as you play with your breasts. Each tug, pull and turn making your knees slam together in an attempt to get friction to your cunt.

“Come on,” Shouto smirks as he rests at the foot of the bed. His arms are crossed against his chest, and he’s drinking you in. “Put your fingers where you want me.”

“I’m not putting my fingers up my ass,” you grin, your bottom lip captured between your teeth as another building pleasure slams through your body.

Shouto doesn’t say anything, his eyes only getting darker as you bring your fleshy mounds to your mouth and take a playful bite.

Eyes were powerful, and Shouto had some of the most intense eyes you’d ever known. So the way he gorged your figure as your hand flattened against your skin while trailing down your navel to where you were desperate for attention set your skin on fire.

Your legs trembled as the nail of your middle finger teased the middle of your lower lips, and you felt like you were choking at the way he zeroed in on your teasing fingers.

“Give me a show.”

Groaning at the way his words clung to you, your fingers pressed against your throbbing clit as your eye contact was broken by your head tossing back. You were so turned on that this gentle pressure felt overwhelming as you cried his name.

Your other hand dropping your breast and pressed against your inner thigh, your other fingers moving from your clit to your cunt.

In went one finger, the initial tightness making you sigh as you pumped your finger with no intent in mind. Then went in another finger and another. Your inner walls clenching around your intruding fingers, making you gasp at the velvety warmth of it all. Eyes fluttering open, you move your wrist, and your fingers move fluidly within you.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Shouto groans as he watches your movements like a hawk, his eyes burning themselves into your exposed cunt.

But it made you feel so good.

With a single heave, your pumping fingers increased in their speed and intensity. Growing so much, your walls squeezed against your moving fingers. Your fingers pounded into your wet core, the sounds of the entering and exiting appendages, making you whine as your free hand pressed against your clit. Your hips bucked up against your moving fingers in an attempt to further increase this intense desire.

Your fingers continued to dance against your needy clit as you shook.

Hot fire slammed to your toes as they curled in your overwhelming pleasure. Your eyes clenching closed as you rubbed hard and fast circles into your desperate clit. Your back arching off the bed multiple times, almost ending with you falling onto your side due to the imbalance caused by the restraint bar.

Faster and hard, faster, and harder.

The squelching of your soaked pussy and pistoning fingers were heavy in your ear as you shrieked. Your legs were spasming, kicking, and your hips thrusting as your end was nearing fast. Shouto’s name continued to be cried from your mouth as you curled your fingers in you, and your fingers pinched your clit, and then an idea slams through you.

Use Endeavor’s name.

And as your orgasm crashed through you, a pitched scream sounded in the room as it all clashed within you.

His name was used.

Your body trembling as you lay on the bed, your fingers still knuckle deep within you as you pant. Your slick essence coats your hands as you manage to sit up, out of breath, and staring at Shouto in a challenging way as you removed your fingers from within you.

There’s a scoff, a sound almost similar to a snarl, and you watch as Shouto shakes his head.

“Aren’t you being a fucking slut.”

Blinking slowly, you heard his pants hit the ground when the belt clacked against the wooden floors. Then you saw that he was by your legs, his cock erect and pressing onto his stomach, the head already beading. Pre-cum dripped from his tip, and you feel victorious at the way he was so turned on.

But it seemed that the dress wasn’t the only thing being destroyed today.

His left hand held onto the fabric of your bra, and you watched in heated horror as he reduced the lingerie to ash.

“Shouto?! What the fu— mmph?!”

Shouto shoved your cum slick fingers in your mouth, and you mewled at the taste of your sweet essence on your fingers.

“Suck it all off,” he practically hissed as he moved your wrists, emulating a blowjob as you groaned against your fingers. “You don’t deserve to be fucked like a princess, do you?”

Your protests against your fingers were ignored as he pressed you against the bed, and you choked as your fingernail stabbed the back of your throat. But it didn’t matter to Shouto, no, not at all.

“If you want to be saying Endeavor’s — fucking scum’s name in bed, I’ll treat you no better than a fucking whore.”

There was a moment of silence as he watched you gag against your own fingers, his weight keeping you locked onto the mattress. But then it was over, and his hand grabbed the bar between your ankles, and he yanked it up.

Your teeth lock around your fingers in your surprise, but he lets go of your wrist, your eyes lock on his as your knees rest beside your chest, and you blink in confusion as he glares down at you.

“Hold it,” he commands as your hands move to hold the bar. It’s cold against your fingers, and the areas that are coated with your saliva make the bar slippery and wet.

“W-Why?” You hoarsely ask, your throat thick from the continuous stabbing of your finger. Typically when the bar was used, Shouto always held it.

“I told you you were going to be fucked like a whore, right? That makes you easy. I don’t need to work hard for someone who does this daily. But that means you should be good at this, so see that clock? In ten minutes, if you cum more than three times, you’ll get punished.”

Your mouth opens to respond to him, but Shouto presses his hands against the bottom of your thighs and, with accurate precision, thrusts wholly into you.

Your grip on the bar almost weakens entirely as his cock fills you completely, your words of protest become gasping pleas as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix, and you feel dizzy, your fluttering walls adjusting. His cock was thick, and it was lengthy; your inner walls ached against him as you adjusted, but regardless of how tight it felt, you could sense your essence spilling from you as Shouto sighed.

He shifted, and in a matter of seconds, you watched as his hips snapped backward before thrusting back into you.

The stretch of your legs makes you feel as if you weren’t breathing correctly. Each breath was short and raspy as you clung to the metal bar as Shouto repetitively slams his cock into your cunt.

“Shit, such a pretty cunt you have,” he rasps as your walls spam against him with his wild thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, pushing you into the mattress, increasing the angle of which he drills down into you.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up in meet him, to increase this brutal force he was using as you crave even more. It was too much.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that you cried in embarrassment, but Shouto found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are music to your ears as his cock hits your walls every time. The stretch he gives you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gorge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal.

Your hands are weak against the bar, and it feels as if it’s slipping the moment he releases his right hand from your leg. You cry as the angle of penetration lessens, but his ramming continues at the same pace, and his fingers land on a puffy and sensitive bundle of nerves. The simple action set you enflame as you wailed his name, and Shouto bit your inner calf as his finger cooled dramatically against your clit.

The difference between your body that felt like it was on fire and the bitter ice of his fingers made your body spasm uncontrollably. The bar was being pulled in by your forearms as exploding pleasure slams through every vein in your body. But your thrashing and wailing do not stop Shouto, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the bed begins to sway with every powerful thrust.

“I needa— holy shit, r-right there!”

“What? Do you need to come already?” Shouto mocks against your calve, and you whimper as he bites it again.

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him in an attempt to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is curse loudly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. The feeling of Shouto’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. His finger getting colder by the second as it simmers against your burning clit. Your heart hammering in your ears as you heard Shouto snap at you.

“Cum.”

The orgasm that had been surging within you crashed through you in a fiery white heat as your jaw slacks in a silent scream. Your body convulses against your hold and his, but Shouto doesn’t stop, not even when your toes curl, not even when you sob.

“Shouto!”

He pulled out then, his pants heavy in your ear, and something ripped through you as the weirdest sensation floods through you. Your cunt throbs uncharacteristically harder as you softly sob Shouto’s name.

You had squirted.

It was all over the comforter; there was even some on Shouto’s lower abs that shone in a mixture of sweat and you.

Your head slams back into the mattress as you can feel your heartbeat in your cunt, your chest heaving at the experience you just had. You’ve never squirted before, and your body felt like it was short-circuiting as you remained on your back.

“Look at that,” Shouto mused as he unfastened the restraints on your ankles, and your thighs crashed together, an inevitable soreness throbbing within as you lay speechless. That had winded you. “For someone not wanting to make a scene on his bed, you just wet a whole portion to it. I don’t think you even care if he finds out I fucked you on his bed, y/n. A little whore like you, you probably want the entire neighborhood to know.”

“I don’t,” you gasp as you struggle to find your breath still, and Shouto hums as he turns you over onto your stomach.

You’re not sure if it was a forcible push or something gentle. All you know is that your body burned where he touched you, and your thighs ached as you settled on your stomach.

“How the fuck am I supposed to fuck you like that?” Shouto snaps at you, and your eyes widen as you shift your head to look at Shouto’s whose cock is still erect, and you realize in a dawning horror that you had come twice now, and he had not.

Then there was the challenge, he only had to make you come three more times to do whatever insidious things he had planned. Your fingers fisted in the sheets as you groaned loudly. His body heat radiated onto you, and you rub your thighs together at the thought of Shouto gripping your ass as he drilled into you from behind.

You needed to get him to do that, but to make sure you didn’t come.

“I don’t want to,” you stall, hoping that in moments like these, it would help in your favor.

“Let go of the sheets,” Shouto ignores you as he gives a pointed look at your hands that clutched the sheets.

“Nope.”

The heat he provided was suddenly gone, and your eyes widened as a closet door creaks open. You watch as Shouto stands by a closet, a hand on his hip as he studies the closet before him, and you let out a strangled noise as you can already taste what he’s getting out.

“Shouto, do not!”

“Don’t what?” Shouto asks as he pulls out four brightly colored ties that Endeavor owned. “They’ll get cleaned up and put away, I mean look at the mess you already made, this shouldn’t concern you.”

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you look at the stained sheets below you, and you sit on your knees as you cross your arms.

“Using Endeavors clothes as bondage is going too far!”

Shouto looked at you, his eyes annoyed, angry, and uncaring, then he shrugs. He takes a few strides, and he’s back on the bed.

“He should have thought of that before being a dick.”

There was no time to react as Shouto grabbed your wrists in his hand and tugged you towards him. Before you could attempt to pull back, to resist ruining more of Endeavors’ personal belongings, the tie is properly looped around your arms, and you’re locked in place.

“Now on your hands and knees like a good slut,” Shouto directs running a hand through his sweaty locks while rising to his knees. The tie is almost uncomfortable with how tight it is, and you remain stagnant, staring at your boyfriend, who was insistently becoming more of a dom than you had ever seen him as. But with your lack of action, his expression sours, and he grasps your cheeks in his hand. “Are you fucking deaf?

You gasp loudly when Shouto’s hand brings your face to the mattress, your back curved, arms pressed into your breasts.

“I thought whores had better form than this,” Shouto sneers while pressing a heavy hand against the center of your spine. You adjusted immediately under his force, your back arching with your pert ass in the air. “Much better.”

The mattress pressed against your chest in a suffocating way, your heart hammering as you realized what was to come.

“Shouto, please,” your voice pleads again; his hands roam your ass and hips, whispering nasty sweet things to you while the tip of his cock presses against your still wet cunt. “Don’t make a mess of me, not on Endeavors bed.”

There was a moment of silence while his hands disappeared from your skin. Licking your lips, you turned your head to see what exactly his expression was. But you were too late.

He slammed his right hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. The pain made your legs buckle, a hot pressure reigniting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on your opposite cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you yelped loudly when Shouto yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your troubled skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Who the fuck matters to you right now?” He hisses in your ear. “Is it Endeavor fucking you on this bed right now? No—” his hand comes down against your ass with every word, ignoring your growing sobs— “I’m the one fucking you. The only man’s name you should be uttering is mine. Do. You. Understand?”

The next spank that comes across your ass nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Shouto abused your ass.

“Answer me, whore.”

There was no stopping Shouto’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It delighted you.

“Y-Yes, sir!” You pant, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more.

“You like this, don’t you,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you here. Do you want me to leave you here? With no clothes, no way back home? Count the number of times I spank you, I want to hear you counting and thanking me every time.”

Slap.

“One. T-Thank you, sir.”

Your words were barely above a whisper, just enough for Shouto to hear you thank him as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a sneer as he let go of your hair, throwing your head into the mattress, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that, don’t make me ask again. From the top.”

The words were like honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“One! Thank you, s-sir!”

Your mind reeled as Shouto continued his conquest against your ass. You could barely remember the number you were on by the time he was done with you, the added sensation of his alternating heated and chilled hands increasing the desire in you to find you as you were now. Ass bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto your bond arms.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he observes as two of his fingers slide against your wet slit, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued petting you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips began to buck against his wandering hands, trying to get them to slip between the folds. “Such a greedy little slut.”

His chuckle is barely heard by you, for as he said that, he pressed the head of his cock into your cunt. A sharp whine slams from your throat as the emptiness of this action makes you crave more. You shift your ass back, the action full of temporary regret as soring pain flashes through your lower body. He did not hold back.

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Shouto chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Shouto slams into you at full force again, causing you to bite down hard against your saliva-coated and bound arms as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you focus on the nightstand and see the clock. It’s felt like an eternity, but only three minutes had passed since the bet was made. If you won, you’d move this fuck feast into his bedroom.

“Seven minutes,” you choke against your skin, not wanting to show how turned on you were.

The instant you were done chiding him, you regretted telling Shouto the amount of time he had left. The bed shifted by your knees, and you could only imagine what was happening as you could feel his cock moving out of you and slamming back into you.

The angle and power behind these thrusts were different than what you were used to from the standard doggy style. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, shrill moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you preened your head to look at Shouto.

Sure enough, Shouto was positioned on his feet, his knees bent as he dropped into your awaiting cunt with such savagery your eyes rolled back watching him. Sweat dripped down his neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“That feels so — fuck — do that!”

“Who—” slap— “Are—” slap— “You—” slap— “Addressing?!” Slap!

“Y-You, sir!” You scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second.

Shouto chuckles at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in a zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure had built up all over again.

His cock twitched within you, it knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length. Shouto curses loudly, pulling out of you while your cum drips from your folds. But a hot and sticky substance hits the curve of your ass while Shouto lets out a string of curses, and you moan knowing that he came on you.

“That was two,” Shouto reminds you as you groan into the sheets.

“That was two,” you mock hoarsely, but you’re unable to move, your body locked in the way he had fucked you.

“Look,” Shouto says, ignoring your disrespect, for you can hear the prideful smirk on his tone as he forces you onto your side. “You made another mess.”

“You’re cleaning up Endeavors bed when we’re done,” you whimper, making no attempt to sit up, your body screaming in pain when you lay still.

“You really can’t seem to get his name out of your fucking mouth, can you?” Shouto barks while he moves to sit against the headboard. “What do I have to do to get you to fucking forget him? Choke you until you pass out? Break that pretty little mind and pussy of yours?”

There is no time to argue, Shouto grabs your legs and drags you over to him, your sensitive ass burning against the cum soaked comforter until you were at his side. Your pained breaths still as Shouto glares down at you, his left hand undoing the saliva-coated tie around your wrists, leaving the fabric slightly burnt while he tosses it to the side. Your arms throb as blood rushes back through it.

But before you could relish the feeling of your arms back, Shouto has his chest pressed against your back, and his right hand angling his once again hardening cock upwards.

“Since I mean nothing to you, make yourself cum.”

With that, he dropped your aching pussy onto his dick.

The feeling of his cock wholly sheathed within you, mercilessly slamming against the wall of your cervix and staying pressed tightly there. The delirious sensation made your head crash back against his shoulder, and your legs kicked out in response. Loud and low moans reverberated from your lips while adjusting to him buried within you again.

Your mind reeled while you adjusted, and Shouto angled his knees up, his scorching and robust grip moving your legs outside of his, causing your hips to spread against him.

“I told you to move,” he snaps, his fingers twisting your sensitive nipple harshly, your resulting wail muffled by you burying your face into his neck. “I didn’t pay for you to sit there.”

Puffs of air escaped your mouth quickly, and your feet shakily pressed into the mattress. You needed to move for him. But you were too slow, and a sharp and icy cold slap hit your clit.

Your body impulsively arched forward, your body rising up from his cock before you collapsed back down. But the sensation of his cock hitting your cervix made you shudder.

“Faster.”

So you began to rise and fall against his length, his hot breathing fanning against your sweat-soaked skin made your body shudder against his. His fingers found a place on your hips to hold, and you moaned at his bruising grip.

Your thighs burned with every bounce of your body, your head lolling to the side, stammering Shouto’s name as your walls clenched and squeezed against his hard cock. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him. Choked out screams rung from your throat as your hand gripped onto his knees, your body trying to support the numb ache that was shooting through your body.

“Shouto,” you puff, his fingers digging into your flesh, making you gasp.

“Why don’t you follow fucking instructions,” Shouto gnashes his teeth, and his left-hand moves from your hip to your clit. A jolt of massive arousal shoots through your body, a warm presence pressing into you as he teases your clit, causing you to roll your hips against his. But it grows hot, hotter, and hotter. It’s too hot, and his movements are painful yet disgustingly pleasurable. Pained and animalistic sobs pouring from your mouth while he deliberately abuses your throat. “What are you supposed to call me?!”

“S-Sir!” You weep, slamming your hips back down against his in pathetic attempt to lose his hold against your puffy nerve. “I’m supposed to c-call you, sir!!”

“Then why haven’t you been?!” Before you could attempt to respond, Shouto’s right-hand leaves your hip and slams to your throat, choking the response from you. “I don’t want to hear your answer.”

His hand remains heavy and tight around your throat, his hold barely allowing oxygen to travel through to your lungs. Your vision fuzzed, and you could feel your heartbeat in your head, but your core shook with Shouto’s now reciprocating and rhythmic slams.

Choking, clit stimulation, his cock pounding into your cervix, his fingers hotter than coal, and Shouto chuckled into your skin. His thrusting hips were becoming more precise, angling into you in a way that made you audibly choke when you needed to gasp. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to your body that was making you delirious, or perhaps it was the fact that he was slamming into you with the strength of rearranging your guts, but your hips began to swivel at an inhumane pace. Your cunt held a vice grip around his cock, yet it did nothing to slow Shouto down, but the growing heated pit in your lower belly was making your legs tremble against his. Still, you tried to keep up with his rough and cruel pace, and Shouto enjoyed knowing that detail.

“Such a fucking tramp, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He sneers, his teeth biting down against the curve of your shoulder. “You enjoy being choked?”

Your head nods, “Y-Yes, sir!”

“Do you need to cum?” There was no reason for Shouto to ask that; the answer was obvious enough. “Good.”

If you thought Shouto was rough, as soon as that word rolled off his tongue, he only got worse.

His hand against your throat tightened, and black dots littered your vision; the coldness of his ice burned against your skin. His teeth sunk far into your skin, enough for you to feel your skin breaking as his tongue moving in cold and heated strokes to calm your now irritated skin. Then there were his nimble fingers running against your clit, and entering your cunt between your spastic walls and his hammering and throbbing cock. But your bouncing held no value anymore, Shouto’s hips snapped upwards fast enough and powerful enough to overcome and overwhelm you. The only thing you could tell was that along with the tip of his cock hitting your bruised walls, the sounds of your sopping wet pussy crashing against his forceful hips rang in your ears in a primal yet excited fashion.

Despite his hold on your neck, nothing was holding back the scream that left your mouth as you orgasmed.

White stars filled your vision as Shouto ripped his cock from you, and that same sensation of peeing bewildered you as he held your body up. You had squirted again, but your ragged and shallow breathing had only increased, and there was something warm and wet painted on your back.

“That was three,” Shouto whispers into your ear, his teeth tugging at your earlobe, and you shuddered. “I should get extra points for making you squirt.”

To that, all you could muster was an embarrassing moan as your dazed eyes focused on yet another wet stain on the bed. Three minutes left, that’s how much you had to endure to win.

Three more minutes.

Unfortunately for you, Shouto was well aware of this, so he wasted no time.

Once again, he shoved you to the side. Your body crumpling onto the mattress, aching and sharp pains flooding your body as you lay there. Your clit throbbed in time with your heartbeat, and your inner thighs were coated entirely with your cum — both new and old. Maybe your body would be incapable of cumming at this point now? You sure hoped so… or not.

“Up,” Shouto commanded but gave you no autonomy since he grabbed your hair by the roots and tugged you onto your knees. You whimper in your throat at the stabbing pain settling in your lower body, you were still recovering from him rearranging your guts. But you caught sight of the cum he had released onto your back pressed all over the covers, and your breathing stopped.

“Shou— ack!!”

A collar locked around your throat, and you wheezed loudly; you hadn’t managed to catch your breath still. Your body swayed forward into his hold as your head spun due to the lack of oxygen, but Shouto seized you his eyes wide and worried as he stared at you.

“Shit, baby, are you okay?”

You nodded your head, oxygen slowly spreading back into your body.

“Sorry,” you hoarse, pushing away, your face burning with embarrassment. “You just surprised me.”

Shouto seemed unconvinced as his hands held onto your cheeks, his fingers stroking your sweat plastered hair out of the way, tracing your bruised lips and against the marks and bites on your exposed skin. The delicate touches are long forgotten on your skin, your lips sighing while he sends warm pulses from his fingers to the aches of your joints.

“You sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved Shouto away, “I’m fine! You just made me spread your cum on Endeavor’s bed!”

Just like that, your loving boyfriend died, and the man who had been fucking you this entire day was back. His hands locked back to where the collar was, and your eyes nearly boggled out of your sockets when he tightened it more until it burned to breathe. But you remained calmed as a black leash appeared from seemingly nowhere and attached to the collar.

“Since you liked being choked so much, I might as well give you what you want without straining me.”

Your eyes widened, your ability to talk back removed.

“Now, ride my cock again,” he grins with the slightest hint sadistic, and as you move to do as instructed, he yanks at the leash. Falling onto your hands, your eyes widen while you stare at Shouto, who merely raises a cocky brow at you. “You have two minutes to make yourself cum.”

“I’m not going to,” you strain, the choking of the collar and the simple manipulation of your body already making that all too familiar heat spread upon your loins.

“You don’t have a choice,” Shouto mocks, his hand moving to grasp the leash centimeters from the collar and yanks your face close to his. But the movement is sharp and rough, the collar strangling you. You scramble on your hands and knees to get closer, stopping when his lips ghost over yours. “And you won’t have one until you’re begging me to fuck you into a puddle, not until you’re nothing more than my cum slut, and until you no longer care about dirtying Endeavors bed.”

The words are fire on your skin, and bubbling lust grows in you again.

There’s nothing to say except give a doe-eyed nod, but Shouto appreciates this submission as his lips take yours. They’re hungry, possessive, and ardent, moving against your mouth with fervent intention. Your mind slips when you straddle him, your soaked core brushing against his tip, and Shouto guides you back down onto his cock.

Your abused pussy had been through a lot, and a loud hiss passes through your teeth as you sunk all the way on him. Your teeth biting onto Shouto’s lip to control the pain-filled pleasure that corroded your body at the moment. It still felt so crazed, the sensation of your heartbeat in your inner walls shifting and hugging Shouto’s still throbbing head,

But the slowness is gone when Shouto pulls away. His hands on the leash as he yanks the cord up and back down.

“Follow my actions, “ Shouto warns, and you weakly nod.

His hand moves the leash back and forward, and the soreness of your cunt bleeds into your actions as you imitate him. Your rolling hips are slow, your hands pressing against his shoulders as you roll your hips against him. There’s a dark mutter from Shouto’s mouth when you lock eyes with him, and his nostrils flare. His hand suddenly grabs onto your waist, making you freeze in your decent back down onto his cock, but he beats you too it, for his cock rams into your dripping cunt. A shriek ripping from your throat as he pounds into you. Your fingers digging into his shoulders to hold onto for support.

“SHOUTO!” You shriek as he ruthlessly slams into you. His hips coming up so fast your body bounces with every thrust. Your moans tumble out in chokes, your face turning red as oxygen fails to fill your lungs. The thrusting is intense, and your hands on his shoulder are more of a lifeline; the bed is quick to move with your movements, the considerable bed groaning under the harsh actions. Its squeaks and tremors are loud in your ear alongside his insistent pounding.

“What’s that, whore?” He growls, his hips hammering into you at mind fogging speed. The leash on the collar being yanked to pull you closer; your bare and sweat-slick skin pressed against his. “What’s my fucking name?!”

“Sir!” you shriek as your pussy throbs around his pounding cock. You’re unable to even twirl your hips in rhythm with him. You were stuck to the lap, only able to feel his cock entering you at toe-curling speeds. “Oh my god, FUCK, please— I —shit!”

Words failed you miserably as Shouto’s hot and sweet tongue drags against your collarbone, his teeth burying into your primed skin as your eyes roll back.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. One more minute.

“You take my cock so well,” Shouto grunts as he releases one hand from your waist and runs it down your navel to press against your clit. Your head throws back, your back arching further into his chest as you scream again. Your pussy clenching with no remorse around his cock. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Do you want to come now, slut?”

You can only shake your head, you didn’t want to cum; the pressure continues to build and build.

“I need to hear your words.”

“I don’t need to cum,” you sob out as your body trembles under his thrusting, you’re so close you see stars. “I don’t need to — sir, please, I can — oH SHIT!!!”

Shouto growls as his hand wraps around the leash, wrapping it around your bruised neck as he tightens the chokehold on you. You’re being strangled, and the air feels like its burning as it goes down your tightened passage, but your cunt throbs in excitement when he presses his mouth to your ear, “I don’t give a shit if you don’t need to cum, you’ll do it regardless.” Your mouth dropped open, your eyes crossing, and a loud whine emitted from you when his hand moved to pinch your nipple, and his mouth found a place on your sensitive nipple.

That’s all it takes, and you come hard around his dick, his name ripping through your abused body as he groans. His tongue lashes against your nipple, his teeth tugging at the pebbled skin all while he continues pummeling into you. Chasing after his own orgasm now.

You pant harshly, moving your hips against his own. Your pussy still twitching around his throbbing dick. You hear him expel a wavering sigh, and you can feel him come within you. The heated fluid fills you up, and he lets go of your sore breast; he collapses onto the bed with you landing on his chest.

“You lost,” he whispers after a moment of silence. Your breath picked up in a panic, you were fucked. “On your knees.”

You groan loudly when Shouto sits up, lifting you up with him, and you can feel the intermingled cum dripping out of you, falling onto your thighs. Your eyes flutter when Shouto kneels before you, his face victorious and poised as he undoes the collar against your throat. Although you took a full breath of air with every, inhale, your breathing is finicky as you’re terrified of what’s to come. You’re silent while watching Shouto make his way make to the no longer neat line of sex toys.

He grabs two things: the vibrator, spreader bar, and four of Endeavors’ ties.

Shouto rises to his feet as he walks back towards you, and while you hated doing this on Endeavors — now filthy — bed, your mouth opened.

“Close your mouth, whore,” Shouto chides, his arms above his head tying the colored fabric to the fan blades above the bed.

“What are you—?!”

“You care too much about making a mess for some selfish pig,” Shouto shrugs, he falls into a squat after securing the ties to the fan. There’s a dark and almost amused glint in his eyes when he stares at you. “Now, I’ll give you a reason to worry.”

Before you could protest, pull away, or scramble from the center of the bed, Shouto grabs your right hand and secures the tie around it.

“Shouto!” You panic when he succeeds in capturing both your wrists. Breathing sharply, you looked up at the flimsy blades that curved under the weight of your arms. If you moved to harshly, if you struggled against this punishment or collapsed too early, it would break. Oh, no… snapping your head behind you to where your boyfriend was relocking your ankles into the spreader bar. “Please, baby, I can’t do this!”

Shouto ignores you, and cold sweat runs through you at what’s to come, you wouldn’t be able to resist bringing your elbows down if the vibrator was pressed into your clit. How were you supposed to not wholly destroy Endeavors’ property?!

“S-Sir, think this through!” You begin to word vomit in your desperation while Shouto presses the vibrator against your right thigh, the smooth head holds against your clit, and he uses two more ties to secure it into place. “The bed is already a-a mess, I squirted! Twice! You came two times on the bed! Not to mention my saliva and the cum that’s dripping out of me! I can’t — we can’t break his fan!”

Shouto is unconcerned, his tongue tracing his teeth while mocking concern, “Then I guess you’ll have to work extra hard not to ruin more things in his room. Considering you care about that shit still.”

Your mouth opened to argue again, your body feeling like you needed to fight this because there was no way you were going to be able to last with your arms above your head, legs unable to come together, and a vibrator pulsating into your cunt. But as soon as you made your initial noise, Shouto turned on the vibrator to low.

The low buzz of the vibrator filled the room, and your mouth dropped in a silent scream. Your body was half numb already, having cum multiple times within the past hour was causing your body to convulse on occasion, but now with the vibrations being sent straight to your core, you felt on edge once again.

Trying to control your visible reaction, your hands gripped onto the cloth ties, your arms quivering as you try to keep from pulling down, and your hips thrusting subconsciously to the vibrations.

“S-Sir!” You sob as the slow and steady build in your belly was already growing. Your eyes locked on Shouto, who was a length away, his eyes gleaming in sadistic joy as his hand ran up and down his once again hardening cock. “P-Please, tie me to the bed! Not to Endeavor’s fan.”

The glint disappeared.

“You just won’t let me enjoy my fucking victory, will you?!”

You sucked in a harsh breath when you shifted your hips, the head of the vibrator brushing deliciously against your softly throbbing clit. You thrilled at the feeling of the vibrations on your clit, and your toes curled as your head fell forward. You needed to keep vigilante, you had to continue complaining so that Shouto would cave.

But you had completely forgotten about the ball gag.

“Open up.” Your head shakes no when Shouto holds the ball gag against your lips, there’s a warning noise. A dark growl emitted from his throat, and you feel your heart rate spike when his other hand roughly pinched in your cheeks. Your mouth opens against your will, and you splutter when his fingers shove into your mouth. You try to bite down on his fingers, but Shouto’s fingers turn ice cold making your mouth widen further, so then the gag was placed behind your teeth pressing into your tongue. You feel him lean against you, his lips by your ear as he whispers, “I don’t fucking remember asking.”

His hand lowers, and he amps up the vibration of the vibrator, and your body stiffens under the powerful waves. Being gagged was the worst, first drool always seeped past your lips with this particular gag on, and the uncomfortable pressure on your tongue sent your gag reflex flaring. Staring up at the ceiling, your noises were muffled at the source, staggering pleasure shooting through your veins as the medium vibrations made your long-abused cunt weep.

Your slick coated the head of the vibrator, and soaked you inner thighs, soaking the tie where it held contact with your skin. Your body spasmed as you sobbed in pleasure, your mind reeling and short-circuiting when your head dropped.

Focusing onto Shouto, your legs nearly gave out at the sight of your sweating and smirking boyfriend, his ears tinged with blush, and his fist stroking his huge cock. You wanted to have him slamming into you with the vibrator pressed into your clit, not this.

“Aren’t you having fun,” he pronounces slowly, his eyes — still dark with excitement and lust — dropped to your soaked thighs. “You look fucking delicious right now, princess.”

You clenched your core, the feeling of the vibrator only intensified, and you gagged when you tried to cry out. The feeling of your saliva pooling from your lips mortified you, your body twitching as Shouto only laughs again.

“I think we should go higher,” Shouto groans, his eyes momentarily closing as you assume a particularly gratifying shiver crawls down his spine. The muffled sounds of your disapproval only make his smirk more sinister when he abandons his own length and moves closer to you. Your eyes are wide, body attempting to shift away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

Air passed through your nose are heavy and sharp breaths, your chest hammering, and your puffy nerves throbbing while the vibrator continued powering into you.

“You’re so messy,” he drawls on his knees before you, his fingers touching the saliva coating your chin, and you sob in anticipation of what’s to come. He trails his fingers down your throat, the slickness of your saliva cold against your raw and bruised neck. “Maybe you don’t really care about fucking up scums bed, do you?”

You make a disapproving noise, your will holding on to a thread, and you vigorously shake your head. Shouto hums, his upper lip curling before his hand flattened and smacked your breast right on your nipple.

There was a loud crack when your arms pulled down, and you shrieked, your eyes trying to choose between focusing on Shouto and the fan blade you very much could have just broken. You whimper, your body twisting in an attempt to show submission, but Shouto isn’t done.

With an icy cold hand, he hits your aching and hot breast again and again and again. Your pained and pleasured wails muffled while you choke against the ball, and saliva pours from your mouth, your body trembling with excitement.

“Shut up,” he hisses, bringing his other hand to your face and striking you.

Your head slams to the side, the throbbing of your cunt intensifies with the burning of his handprint. Why did you like being slapped?! Saliva dribbles from your lips when you straighten back up. A now unignorable ache fills your arms from being in this tiresome position for a while now.

Everything felt like it was burning, sensations, and wantonness flooding your senses galore.  

“I forget you like this,” Shouto groans as his hands grope your breast. Pulling, kneading, gripping and pinching the soft and moldable flesh in his hands, Shouto grins at your whimpers and the soft groans of the fan above the two of you. “Break the fan, I dare you.”

Your eyes slam shut at those words, and they remained closed as his hot and cold hands trail down your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your lips twitch, the involuntary action to bite down on your lip prohibited by the gag. He must have seen considering the teasing pinch to your ass.

It was then that you froze. He was flushed against you, and the feeling of his cock pressing into the bottom of your sternum. Shouto’s right hand snaked behind you, those fingers playing with your dripping sex, and his left hand skimmed down your right inner thigh, resting onto the switch that changed the vibrational power.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he speaks in a low tone, an arrogant tone to his voice, “I’ll make you cum again.”

There was no time to contemplate his actions, for the vibrator was turned onto the highest setting and pressed into your clit, and his fingers sunk into your sopping wet cunt.

Even with the ball gag, the shriek of being overstimulated was as loud. It was as if you didn’t have the gag on at all. Your arms lurched forward against your will, the fan creaking loudly as you fell onto Shouto. You trembled more than a leaf in a storm, his fingers pumping deliciously and savagely into you, leaving behind the squelching noise of your wet core. The buzzing of the vibrator clear and steady and his cock twitched between the two of your bodies.

Sobbing and drooling moans escaped the gag, and Shouto relished in his ability to manipulate your body like this. His teeth leaving nipping kisses against the broken skin he left minutes before.

But the feeling of his teeth against your aggravated skin, the sensation of the powerful vibrations against your clit, and how he was still so responsive to you was nothing against his pistoning fingers dragged against that particular spot in your walls. His fingers scraped and slammed against your g-spot, and you felt your vision give way as a powerful force crashed through you.

You had squirted again, only that it seemed to last forever this time. Your lower body throbbing in its wake.

Your head collapsed against his shoulder, and when your vision came back, it was hazy and swam in your eyes. Whether Shouto had noticed or not, he still was slamming his fingers within your cunt with such intensity that — alongside the still buzzing vibrator — pressure built again within you. Heat seeped through you, and tears fell from your eyes when you came again.

Everything felt lethargic when Shouto removed his knuckle deep fingers from your sopping cunt, his tongue lapping away any of your essence remaining on his fingers. With a long pause, he finally turned off the vibrator.

Your breathing was shallow, your head spinning while he removed the bondage from your wrists and ankles. Collapsing onto your face, you felt your slick running thick on your thighs, mixing with the sweat that soaked your skin too.

Good god, were you exhausted.

“You broke the fan,” Shouto murmured.

Shrieking against the gag, adrenaline shot through your veins as you looked up. The fan blade had visible cracks in it, and your jaw dropped further.

Oh, fuck!

“Still haven’t learned,” he sighs, shaking his head. “That’s okay, you’ve always been a stubborn bitch.”

You whimper in agreement, your leg shifting so that you could feel the wet puddle you had made this time around. However, there was no time to relax.

Shouto grabbed you by your armpits and dragged you to the edge of the bed. Choking, you stared at him startled. There was no use in asking what was happening; Shouto bent your knees and wrapped two ties around each leg. One holding your ankle and upper thigh together, and the other one near your knee.

“Good,” Shouto approved, walking back to the side of the bed where the toys lay. Though soreness struck your body, you rose to your elbows and watched Shouto grab the fuck machine before returning to the bedside. “Because you squirted.” He says with a coy smile, lining the dildo to your exposed pussy and thrusting it in.

Your body slammed back down against the bed at the slickness of the dildo. You were so used to Shouto’s cock that the dildo was foreign as it buried within you.

“Now,” he sighs as he turns on the machine. Immediately the fuck machine blows into your tight and slippery cunt, your eyes rolling backward at the mere sensation of the speed it was at, and a loud mewl leaves your throat. His fingers snuck behind your head, unfastening the gag, and is removed with a saliva string, and a sob croaked through your voice as your mouth was finally free. “Suck my dick.”

With your head past the edge of the mattress, and the height lining you near perfectly to Shouto’s cock, he slides his cock into your sore throat. But ever so eager, Shouto wastes no time starting his conquest.

You try to keep up with the momentum of the toy and his viciously thrusting hips, your hips snapping against the toy despite its insane speed. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you choke against his cock. Shouto chuckles, his hands kneading your breasts, his moans tight and low, it had been a while since the last time he came.

“Look at you, so desperate,” Shouto chuckles, his fingers tweaking your hard nipples. “So fucking needy.”

The words ignite a fire within you, and your legs tremble in unspoken glee. You wanted him to fuck you until you were nothing less than a mess. You needed him to give you his cock instead of this stupid fucking machine — wait…

Your eyes widened when you realized the extent to your thoughts.

Fuck Endeavor, you thought, a shiver rolling down your spine. Your boyfriend was giving you the best dick down of your life, and you were too preoccupied with foolish worry! Shouto promised he was going to be cleaned up. You wanted Shouto, you needed him. Maybe you were whipped.

Your arms shot out, gripping the back of Shouto’s thighs as you willed him closer. Your jaw widening; you let hot breaths of air expelled from your mouth. You could feel Shouto peering down on you, but rolling your hips against the machine that was making your stomach bulge with every slam of its rod, your tongue lashed against his swollen head. Shouto’s thighs clench when your mouth sucks against the head of his cock, your tongue pressing flat against the tip.

“Did someone finally fucking wake up?” Shouto grunts, his hips moving with more unrestraint into your mouth.

Making a pleasant sound, you hollowed your cheeks out and tasted the saltiness of his pre-cum. Delighting at the harsh curse, you guided him further in.

One of his hands is soon braced on the fuck machine between your legs, but the other is tangled in your hair, pulling it and twisting it as he wishes. He’s pulling hard enough to hurt, enough so that you can choke against him, the angle and the position on your back already increasing the likeliness of that happening.

Shouto’s grip on your hair tightens, and he realizes that you’re keeping up impeccably. His dance between aggression and concupiscence is too much for you to keep up with. You don’t have time to tease his length with your tongue; he steers his cock further down your throat. You don’t bother to hide how satisfied you are by his action as you relax your throat and hollow your cheeks against the length of his snapping cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hips bucking forward, he can’t stop himself from demanding more. You don’t mind; you open wider to take more of him in, and his cock thrusts further down your throat. He’s now panting, in his desperation, judging from the strangled sound he makes as you take him even deeper. “You take my cock so good, princess.”

He was doing this for you, despite everything that could happen to him after this night was done. Shouto loved you enough to tarnish his dad’s room with you. The thought makes you moan, and you wiggling trying to take him deep enough now that he must be able to feel the vibrations from your throat because that makes him hiss out another curse. He’s shaking with the effort of slamming his cock down your throat and holding the machine.

The raw, primal, and wet noises of his cock entering and leaving your throat are maniacal, added onto that is the dildo penetrating your sopping cunt again. The pressure is back, and it’s settled deep in your lower belly, and you want to cum more.

He’s underestimating you, however; you could take him in all power and length he could muster. You know that as you begin bobbing your head despite the backwardness of your position. Digging your fingernails into his ass, you silently letting him know that you’re okay, and he understands.

Shouto grunts, bending his knees as he begins to face fuck you with no remorse. It’s savage, uncontrolled, and brutal. Your choking noises music to both your ears; he doesn’t let up, only snapping his hips faster, harder, rougher. Your eyes begin to roll backward at the force, his balls slapping you in the face with every slam of energy.

But you like — you lust — the sensation of the raw and primitive fucking he was giving you, and you felt your hips rising off the bed when your walls begin to clamp against the insanely moving dildo. Yet, when you shifted higher, his hands slammed down against your hips, keeping you down, and you cry around his cock.

“Take my fucking cock like the slut you are,” he snarls, taking giant thrusts until his cock is completely buried in your throat, your nose pressed into his balls. Your tongue still revolves around the veins in his cock while you grip his ass. You choke against him, the noise music to his ears, while your legs spasm as your orgasm is hitting you.

“Y/n,” he manages to get out through gritted teeth. “Fuck, y/n. You—” He cuts himself off with another groan as the tip of his cock hits so far down your throat you feel your neck bulge.

There’s a brief moment of panic as you struggle to breathe. The force a but more than you expected, but you relax, getting yourself to calm back down. But then you inhale through your nose and force your throat to rest until you can take him all in, the oxygen burning as it made its way past his cock in your throat. Not long after that, Shouto lets out a long, loud groan when his seed shoots down your throat.

It burns, and to your horror, you find yourself unable to take the sheer force of his load and the fact that he just seemed to keep unloading within you. Uncontrollable panicked coughing and choking rattle your throat while Shouto is still balls deep in you. The second he removes his cock from your throat, you shoot up, your core throbbing, and your airway burning as cum drips out from your nose.

You continue hacking, the bitter taste of cum scorching your throat, and you continued to rub cum from your nose. It burned and hurt to breathe. Turning your head towards Shouto, who turned off the fucking machine, his eyes were locked on you already, a grin on his face while he ran a hand through his hair.

“That was hot,” Shouto rustles, running the flat of his thumb against your upper lip, smearing his cum against your skin.

“That fucking hurt!” You snap, throwing his hand off your face, a fire exploding under your skin because you were more embarrassed than anything. You enjoyed the feeling of his cum coming out of your nose, but you weren’t about to admit it!

“I don’t care,” Shouto perversely informs you, his hands taking you cheeks and twisting you towards him before his lips press against yours.

His lips are libidinous against yours, his mouth opening as he coaxed you to join him in this affair. His kiss was bruising, his teeth knocking against yours when hot and breathless puffs of air exchanged between your mouths. The heated pressure does nothing to ease the burning in your throat, only intensifying the pain while you dig your fingers into his back, leaving crescent marks and bloodied tears behind. The pain does not deter Shouto, not even a little bit. There’s an approval growl emitting from his throat and his tongue soon pressed against yours, and you resisted the sharp moan threatening to leave while his muscle danced with yours.

“Stop holding it in,” he grunts, “make everyone know that you’re being fucked.”

The next noise to escape your mouth is a loud mewl when Shouto sucks against your own tongue, his eyes ablaze while he stares down at you, victory and lust in his eyes.

“Where should I fuck you next?” He asks, his body pressing you down into the mattress, ignoring your pained hisses for your legs were still bound. His fingers dig into your breasts, pinching at the edges of your areola instead of your nipple. Your fingers dug deeper into his skin when you sob at the teasing. “How does that filthy little cunt of yours want to be ruined next?”

“In his chair!” you cry in gluttony, your body thrashing and reaming against his touch. “Fuck me in his chair, sir!”

“Look at that, maybe the slut can learn,” Shouto grins into your skin, the tracing movements salacious, and he stands. You’re weightless when Shouto scoops you from the bed, his hands supporting your tender ass. Mindlessly, your mouth nibbles against his throat, leaving purple hickies in your wake while he collects more items.

The taste of his salty sweat invades your senses, your tongue lapping, and circling against his skin while Shouto gave no attention towards your actions. He merely dumped you onto the cool leather of Endeavors desk chair, and you arched in pain.

“Now, now,” he ruthlessly grabbed the ties on your legs. He slides them off with such amoral strength your skin throbs in his wake. Your legs, finally free, slam to the ground, and you let out a fervid noise as you stare up at your boyfriend, whose stomach is taut and sheened with sweat. “I thought you liked pain.”

“You haven’t been giving me any,” you sneer, your tongue dragging against your bottom lip.

Rage fills his eyes, and he chuckles depravedly, “Okay, brat.”

Grabbing your hips, he drags you on the chair so that your ass barely remains on the cold leather. Shoving you down by your chest, the wind is knocked out of you, and you heave when he grabs onto your ankles. With a familiar tightness and the strain of having your knees under your shoulders, the spreader bar is placed behind the chairs back, keeping you trapped to the chair.

You’re folded in half, and his hand pressed onto your stomach before he began to tie your arms and thigh down. Two ties to secure your wrist into place, two ties to secure your thighs into place. The position — being placed into an ‘L’ shape — prohibited you from breathing correctly as your inflexibility flashed through your muscles.

“Oh my god,” you breathe while Shouto presses the back of the chair into the desk for additional support. Your wrists throbbed with the loss of blood circulation, and Shouto stood before you, his hand fisting himself.

“Hard to breathe?” He mocks, his cock now fully erect again.

“Make me stop breathing, pussy,” you challenge unwavering.

“God, I was hoping you’d say that,” he smirked, grabbing the top of the chair, and placing his feet by the side of the bed, he rammed himself into your cunt.

There was nothing for you to do except pathetically howl when he slammed into your cervix, your body tied so tight to the chair any other action was stopped.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Shouto hisses, but you could hardly tell the difference with the way he pummels his cock deep within you. Perfectly hitting the back of your wall every time.

His girth was stretching you out far more than you could seem to remember, his thrusts were urgent as they were voracious, slamming deep into you with every second, scrambling your mind with every shift. But, he didn’t gag you, and you weren’t one to give in.

“It’s because you n-never fuck me r-rIGHT!”

His left fingers slammed into your mouth, his fingers touching the back of your throat as you choked against him in your surprise. Tears watered in your eyes, and his fingers dug into your spongy muscle, making you gag even more laborious.

It already hurt to breathe, with the sensation of his cum still falling from your nose, the angle of which you were tied up, and his finger in your throat, you began to panic. Your eyes close, your throat relaxing immediately to let things be okay. But as soon as you regain your breath, you feel your core throb in how much you liked that. Tears flow down your cheeks, your eyes locked on Shouto, who’s scorching you with his sight.

“I thought you were going to tap out,” he taunts, and your tongue pushes up against his fingers, your throat humming lowly to control the insistent gag at the back of your throat. “You’re crying, and yet you’re still so defiant.”

You tilt your head up, alleviating the pressure of his fingers in your throat, and still looking like a brat.

But his cock brushes against your g-spot and your eyes nearly bug out in ecstasy for his right-hand wraps around your neck. His cock still slams into you with speed and power, the oxygen in your body being denied with his tight grip around your neck, his fingers beginning to thrust within your mouth emulating a cock, and the chair starts to squeak with every movement.

Your ass pathetically rises off the chair, a desperate attempt to move in time with his drilling cock. Both of you delirious under your overstimulation and refusal to stop until there was evidence for years that the two of you fucked in Endeavors’ room. His grip around your neck soon became bruising, where his fingertips were burned you, but you cared not. His cock was stretching you out in shameless thrill, the angle only increasing the pleasure buzzing through you. Your eyes cross over in your elation, and you splutter when his fingers leave your throat, moving to press cold and wet figure-eights onto your clit.

“Fucking take my cock,” he growls.

Your head nods, the heated pressure in your belly scorching. Your walls clamp down against his hammering cock, but it doesn’t slow him down, only encouraging him to increase his speed and strength until the chair creaked against your weight. The sopping noises of your meeting sex filled your ears, and you moaned loudly, your teeth biting down onto your lip.

It takes his cock brushing against your g-spot for your legs to slam forward, your arms nearly succeeding in destroying endeavors ties as you try sitting up as your orgasm slams through you.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scream hoarsely. Your scream only increases in great thrill when you feel the chair snap under the force of his fuck. But Shouto ignores it, his hips continuing to drill into you, his hand clamping tighter against your neck, cutting off your voice. Shouto isn’t done yet, after all.

His hands move to grip the exposed back of your thighs, his grip bruising your supple skin. He slams into you faster, his cock continuing unaffected by your convulsing walls. There are no other noises except your wet cunt meeting his cock, your shrieks of approval, and Shouto’s heavy breathing as he continues to drive into you. His body is giving you unreplicable sensations, and your body only making Shouto stammer and curse loudly.

His lips find yours, and there is nothing to say, the kiss is messy, more teeth than anything. Saliva passed between the two of you without care, as he chases his orgasm. His brutal pace continues, your name growled from your throat, until one last thrust and one final clamp from your cunt sends him over.

He pulls out as soon as he cums, his seed slipping down from your slit, tickling your tight ass and dripping onto the chair and the floor.

Your eyes are barely opened; you try to peer at Shouto, who is pressing his right hand to his forehead.

“You cheat,” you rasp, knowing that he had successfully cooled his body down.

He smiles at you wickedly, choosing to ignore you before walking back.

“Look at that,” Shouto whispers, bending down so that his face is level with your cunt and ass. “Can’t have anything not falling onto Endeavors things getting out of you…”

His finger pushes his cum back into your sore cunt, and you sharply breath when he pats your cunt.

“You want me to have your babies,” you tease, and he remains silent, dragging his fingers down the center of your pussy. His breathing teases your sensitive flesh, and you feel yourself clench when he pulls his fingers lower than where he usually goes. Soon, his fingers trace around your puckered asshole.

“S-Sir,” you pant, your chest rising as far up as you could in this position, and your eyes widened when he looked up at you.

“Have you ever wanted to try anal?”

Your mouth drops when the pad of his finger teases your other entrance, and your thighs shook while you remained silent.

His opposite hand struck your ass sharply, your body thrashing as it stung against your unprepared skin.

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Yes, what?!”

“I want your cock in my ass!”

Your boyfriend’s quirk did not involve speed; in fact, without his quirk, he was not that fast. Sure he was athletic and adequately trained, but in comparison to those on the Hero field, if you took away quirk usage, he was barely above average. But there were times that you believed he was incredibly fast, and this was one of those moments.

You found your face, chest, and knees buried back into the mattress, your back arched so much you swore you would need a spine replacement after this, and the ties and spreader bar were gone.

His fingers slide between your folds, lathering in your essence. A low groan left your lips at the feeling, and you quivered when Shouto’s hands spread your ass cheeks.

“B-Be gentle,” you whimper when he presses the pad of his forefinger against your pert hole. Your ass tightened instinctively, and Shouto huffed but pressed his finger in. A weird full pain shot through you when the tip of his finger entered your rectum, your ass squeezing against his finger, trying to deny him entrance.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his other hand massaging your ass cheek, trying to calm your instincts to let him in.

Your fingers dig into the comforter, the still wet fabric from your multiple orgasms was cold under your heated fingers. But something cold splashed against your ass, and you shook, demanding to know what it was.

“Lube,” he answers, a smirk evident in his tone as his fingers leave your asshole. A soft groan exhales from your breath at him exiting your ass, and soon enough, his finger returns to your puckered tight hole. The feeling of his fingers pushing in you to his first knuckles sends your ass flying backward toward him, a desperate and idiotic way of getting him further in.

It was a weird feeling, almost reminiscent to the first time you had sex, only completely different. It made your head spin in a frenzied way and felt backward but in a way where you needed more.

“You like this,” he laughs, his lips pressing against your spine. Your head nods, you’re unable to speak as his fingers push into you and pull back out. It’s a slow and chilling movement that fills your asshole and makes you dizzy.

“Shit,” you breathe, your body rattling, your ass rolling against his fingers.

“Are you ready for my cock, whore?” He asks, and you whine in response. His hand grips your ass, and his finger curls within you. You loudly call out his name, feeling your body turning weak as you lay there, a slave to his manipulation. His manipulation of your ass sends warm liquid falling down your thighs, shining against your skin as his hand smacks your inner thigh, and he relishes in your high pitched squeal. “You finally cave to anal when I’m fucking you here. Is this what you wanted all along?”

Your eyes clamp shut as his fingers exit your ass, and you only manage a panting groan in response. There’s a soft ripping noise before a package hits your face.

Your eyes open to see a condom package sitting by your face, its empty, and you shift your head to stare at Shouto who’s unraveling the condom on his cock.

“You haven’t used those in a while,” you remark snidely, your eyes glowing with amusement as he locks onto you, his eyes rolling.

“I remember a certain someone begging for me to put it in her raw,” he smoothly states, lube in his hands now, and he applies a lot on the smooth condom. “Besides, you want my cock up your ass, you don’t get to play that card right now.”

“Yeah, well — oHMY GOD!”

Shouto, without warning, presses the head of his cock within your asshole. It stretches you out disgustingly, sharp pain throbbing in your ass and cunt as he settles within you. Despite his cock halfway buried within your ass, it’s your pussy that weeps. Your slick runs rampant down your inner thigh, falling onto the bed top. Shouto’s fingers dig into your waist, the both of you breathing heavy at this new feeling.

Slowly, his fingers move to your breast and your nipples, and with the smallest nod from you, he begins.

In and out, he moves, his hips moving faster than a manageable speed, and your eyes welled with tears at the constipated feeling in your asshole. His fingers tweak and pull at your clit and nipple, savagely teasing them, uncaring that your cries left drooling puddles on the bed. His thrusting movements became quicker, harder, and more solid until a familiar sensation of his balls slapping your skin burned your mind.

“More,” you beg against the sheets, drool coating your cheek, your body nothing more than his fuck toy. “Fuck my asshole harder.”

Shouto merely growls, the pinch on your clit, making your hips buck against his cock, and he began to barbarically slam into you. It was as if it was your pussy and not your ass he was drilling into.

Your body shifts with his every movement, your slick pouring from your cunt, and he let go of your nipple. In your crazed state, you sob at the loss of contact, but his hand strikes against your soaked cunt with a loud sound. The force alone nearly sends your eyes flying open, your vision blurring when his finger dive into your sex.

His fingers work at double the speed of which his hips slam into you. His fingers pushing the limits of your velvet walls; he curls his fingers against your walls, dragging them deliciously against your clenching heat. Then there was his cock, and at times the thin walls that separated his fingers and his cock brushed together, sending you into a new frenzy while you sobbed his name.

Begging for more, begging to come.

“You already need to come?!” He snaps, his hips not at all weak, and you moaned loudly, knowing that he was nowhere close. “Then come you, filthy bitch, I just started, and you need to come!”

“I-It feels so fucking good,” you garble, your jaw unable to move for its slack against the mattress, electrifying pleasure singing your nerves, and with a loud smack to your pussy, you come hard against his fingers, splashing against the bed top.

There’s no time wasted; Shouto pulls himself from your ass and shoves you onto your back again. There’s no fightback, no attitude, from you. Without being forced to, your legs are brought to your chest while Shouto discards the condom onto the bed.

“Aren’t you so fucking enthusiastic, getting all ready for me without asking,” Shouto grins, his hands grabbing your legs right below your ankle. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you right now?”

“Y-You’re going to fill me up with your cum,” you stammer for he pushes your legs slowly towards you, the stretch in your muscles overwhelming for your sore body. “You’re going to give me your babies.”

“What else?” He taunts, the top of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“B-Breed me like the bitch I am, sir!” Your cry, wanting nothing more than his cock to bury all nine inches in you.

“Come for me one more time, and I’ll make sure to fill you until you’re dripping with my semen for an entire week,” Shouto promises, and his hips slam within you.

Your knees are buried within the mattress by your head, your feet curling and pressing against each other.  Shouto lays on top of you, the penetration deep, and his hands gripping yours. The weight of having him on you is exhilarating, and for the first time this night, his lips press hungrily against yours while ball deep within you.

His cock slams against the wall of your cervix repetitively while his lips overwhelm you. Each slam into you is massive and powerful. Powerful enough to have you sobbing into his mouth while he kisses you, his hands clutching your smaller ones in his.

Again and again, he slams into you. His thrusts knocking the wind out of you until you release his hands and find yourself digging your fingers into his back, crying out his name desperately while his teeth find a home on your neck, sinking into flesh he had long ago broke. The powerful pounding of his cock makes you keen, your hips jerking up to meet his, but you’re useless against his downward thrusts.

“Impregnate me, sir,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, “breed me, please!”

“You’ll be full of my fucking kids in no time, your cute belly will be round with my kid,” he snaps, his cock throbbing within your pussy, and loud echoing slaps fill the room. Your nails claw at his back, marking him in multiple places with clean four red lines.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved perfectly within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises reasonably similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, whore?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh. “You like the way my cock fills your pussy the same way it did that pretty little ass?” You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. Your sanity was lying on a string, his actions the reasons for your downfall.

His leverage was small, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. Before he drilled back into your pussy. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“You like the way I fuck your pussy? The way that I’ll fill you with my seed for days to come?” he growls into your ear, his hips inhumanly slamming into you.

“I need you to breed me,” you sob, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the familiar spastic clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

You squirt wildly, your juices going everywhere, wetting his groin area, and splashing against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, sir,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your seed!”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

Who knew Endeavor was the key to making Shouto lose control. Maybe you needed to get him to fuck you on this bed more often now.

You can feel the cum seeping from your cunt, and Shouto must have too, for he scooped it back in with his fingers, and you chuckled at the feeling of his warm fingers against your seizing cunt. This was nice, you loved this.

“I didn’t go too overboard, did I?” He asks, his voice small given that he saw the blood that trailed down your neck and the raised handprints on your ass.

“No,” you say, your hands running down his muscled sides. “Not at all, I really enjoyed this, sir.”

Your words are teasing, and the two of you chuckle as silence overtakes the two of you.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispers, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, too, Shouto,” you mumble, your eyes fluttering closed, sleep consuming you.

You don’t remember anything else, only that you woke up the next morning in your bed, your body is strewn with purple bruises, red hickies, and handprints on your body, wearing nothing but Shouto’s shirt and your panties.

“Good morning beautiful,” his voice greets you, and you sigh, soreness rampaging your body.

“Good morning, my love.”

Bonus!

Endeavor walked into his house at three in the morning, the strains of a late night at work had truly exhausted him.

Shouto, who he had asked to take care of his house for only two hours had stayed much later. His son had informed him that he left ten minutes before he arrived. It was too bad, Endeavor thought, he wasn’t able to get back on time to see his son and girlfriend. Tossing his case to the floor, Endeavor was ready for bed.

Trudging through his house, he was quick to realize how humid the house was when he neared his room. His eyebrows scrunched, his attention on alert as he threw open the door, the lights and fan turned on by mistake.

CRASH!

Endeavors’ eyes widened at the sight of the cum-stained bed, the ruined sheets, the slanted chair, and his bed being held together by ice. His eyes locked on the fan blade that fell from its place; it was cracked entirely in the middle. There was no denying that his room was wholly and disgustingly used, and for what?! His stupid kid didn’t ever need to stay!

“SHOUTOOOOOO!”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Book of Soulmates

Chill Out

pairing: Jungkook x reader

premise: you thought you had the upper hand going to a BTS concert which was sure to be miserably hot for everyone else. that is, until you realized that things were getting a little...heated.

So. Much. Screaming.

Of course, you were right there with them. The pre-concert VCR was playing, signaling the beginning of what was sure to be an unforgettable night. Clinging to your sister beside you, the two of you watch with bated breath and already strained throats as the lights dim and a hush falls over the stadium. 

Over 40,000 people wait in silence for a group of only 7 men, the influence they hold making your eyes grow wide. 

When a flicker of warmth alights in your chest, gradually spreading outward to your extremities, you fail to join in with the deafening screams as the music begins and seven figures appear. 

Instead, you’re completely mute. A feeling as foreign as warmth has rarely graced your life.

Soulmates are everywhere, and no two soulmates are alike. To complement the variety of soulmates, comes a myriad of soulmate bonds. 

For example, your sister shares dreams with her soulmate. That particular bond has been on the rise for the past twenty or so years. 

Your parents share a rare bond: hearing the same music.

And you? The Goldilocks bond, as it has been so lovingly dubbed by soulmate specialists around the world, is fairly common. One out of every six people have it, which means that one of every six people are born with a lower internal body temperature than deemed average. 

Essentially it’s all just some glorified way to say one simple thing: you’ve been freezing your entire life. So much so, that you’ve grown numb to the cold. It doesn’t tend to bother you much anymore. 

Which is exactly why when earlier today you were waltzing down the sidewalk with your sister and felt a spike in your body temperature for all of thirty seconds, you nearly collapsed right then and there.

The two of you searched and asked all of the surrounding pedestrians if they had felt something similar, you were simultaneously dreading and hoping to meet your soulmate there on the corner of 6th and 14th. Yet nobody came forward, and you were left to accept the fact that you were on a busy street and chances are your soulmate had just sped by in a car. 

Now, as your internal body temperature steadily begins to increase you cling to your sister even tighter. She pays you no mind, she’s already clinging to you for dear life as she watches without blinking as BTS begin their opening number. 

As much as you long to not miss a single moment of their performance, your eyes begin to scour the surrounding crowd to see if there is anyone else that appears to be going through something similar. Your search is futile; everyone is completely glued to the stage. 

Little drops of sweat begin to drip off of your forehead despite your stationary position. Squeezing your sister even tighter, you make her look at you.

“Isn’t this amazing?!” She shouts to you. You give her a shaky smile in return. 

“Y-yeah,” you mumble. “Look, I’m sweating.”

She laughs. “Same! It’s so freaking hot in here, there’s so many people-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m sweating.”

It takes her a few more seconds to really understand what you’re trying to say, but as her eyes take in the beads of sweat dripping down your forehead, she goes utterly still.

“No way. Who...who?”

Shrugging your shoulders, a giggle leaves your lips. “I have no idea!”

Despite your happy attitude, your sister looks to be growing steadily more concerned. And rightfully so. 

Right now, it’s warm. It’s a strange, but not horribly unpleasant feeling. However, there’s a reason it’s called the Goldilocks bond.

All your life, you’ve been too cold. All the necessary precautions have been taken to keep you comfortable and alive: heating pads, heated blankets, coats, warm tea, you name it. Even now, being surrounded by thousands of people in what is sure to be a hot atmosphere is ideal for your body. You might not have been able to feel that heat, but it was doing a great job of keeping you warm enough to not let the cold take over.

Now, your body will begin to overheat. Dehydration and heat exhaustion will soon follow. 

You need to find your soulmate, and quick.

“Excuse me!” Your sister waves frantically at a security guard. “Excuse me!”

The smile is wiped off of your face as the reality of your situation settles in. You crane your neck now, beginning to frantically search for who your other half might be. 

The surrounding fans begin to notice your plight, and although they might not exactly know what’s going on, they can recognize an emergency when they see one.

Sweat is practically pouring off of you now in sheets, making you grit your teeth as the warmth from before turns into a raging inferno. 

Just as the security guard steps away from their post to address your sister, a hush falls over the crowd.

Glancing up at the stage, you’re shocked to see Jungkook on his knees, unable to get up as he pants. The other members instantly surround him, trying their best to buoy him up as the backing track plays on. A few seconds later has staff rushing out onto the stage while the music is cut.

A few girls around you seem to piece everything together before anyone else can, and are quick to steady you as you begin to sway on your feet. 

“It’s her!” They shout to the bodyguard and whoever else will listen. “It’s the bond!”

What happens next is all a blur. You feel as though your entire body is on fire as you struggle to breathe through your dry and scratchy throat. The smaller hands of your sister are replaced by larger hands that scoop you up, and the bodyguard looks down at you with a worried gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he attempts to comfort you as he gets someone to move the gate for him before beginning to ascend the stairs to the stage. The sound of a few random screams from the crowd barely reach your ears. 

Some part of you is aware of Jungkook being practically dragged to the lift, where he pants and looks down at his shoes. You remain in the bodyguards arms as you two stand beside Jungkook and the lift begins to descend below-stage. 

Your eyes are focused on the purple-blue sky of the evening as you descend, already beginning to feel a bit more focused and better at the close proximity to Jungkook. 

Below stage staff members are scurrying about and clearing space for the two of you as you’re set down on a couch beside Jungkook. You haven’t even had an opportunity to look at him yet before you’re slumped beside each other and a staff member that looks like they know what they’re doing grabs your hand and puts it in Jungkook’s.

Like jumping into a pool after sitting out under the blazing sun, you emit a long sigh at the instant feeling of relief. 

“Drink,” the same staff member says, handing you an open bottle of water and extending another one to Jungkook. 

You drain nearly the entire bottle in one go, but it’s the acute realization that you’re currently sitting on a couch holding Jeon Jungkook’s hand - your soulmate’s hand - that has you setting the bottle down and turning to look at the man in question.

Jungkook is still drinking his water, his eyes closed in pure bliss as a bit of water streams down his neck due to the fast pace. 

His long dark hair is clinging to the side of his face and forehead in damp streaks, a testament to the intense and painful heat the two of you just went through. The beautiful white costume he wears is now damp and sticking to him, making a small part of you feel guilty for ruining it.

Glancing down to where your hands are still joined, you swallow thickly. How embarrassing. He can probably feel your heart rate through your hands right now.

You go to remove your hand, but find that you can’t as his grip unconsciously tightens. 

At the feeling of you attempting to pull your hand away, Jungkook opens his eyes and sets the water bottle beside yours on the small table. 

You realize, as his eyes turn to yours, that where the expensive clothing, beautiful hair and sharp jawline make him handsome, it’s those warm brown eyes that have you falling in love before he’s even uttered a single word.

His eyes reflect the concern he feels for your sake in a single instant, almost making you rush to reassure him that everything is alright. The feel of his thumb running over your knuckles, however, leaves you speechless. 

Staff all around the room turn a blind eye to the intimate moment, allow the two of you as much privacy as they can provide. You hardly notice, though. Not as the smallest hint of a smile makes Jungkook’s lips curve upward. 

“How foolish of me,” Jungkook mumbles, his eyes committing your face to memory.

You furrow your brows, making his smile grow. “What?”

There’s a redness in his face now that isn’t from the heat, but you don’t point it out for fear of embarrassing him further. “It’s just...” he smiles completely now, his nose scrunching up as he chuckles to himself. “I memorized what I would say to my soulmate when I met them,” you heart skips a beat at the word soulmate, “but looking at you now, I can barely remember my own name.”

A giddy laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “Don’t worry too much about it, I already know what it is.”

masterlist

[moon-lixie]

"Were you this touch deprived?" The amusement could be easily missed in between the calm of your voice that threatened to melt under his fingertips.

"Yes," he answered immediately, no time for thinking needed, "when it comes to you I'm always touch deprived, I can never get enough of you."

word count: 1.970k

genre: fluff, Hyunjin x gn reader.

song: Wrong About Forever - Jeff Bernat

Every great waltz has its spins that make you feel like you're flying as the music pushes you further, Hyunjin wasn't a stranger to this concept, nor was he ignorant to the part in which the two people dancing move apart, stretching their arms as far apart as physically possible while their hands stay clasped together.

He, more than anybody, knew what it was to dance, to give yourself to music and get lost quicker than he could even realise.

What he wasn't familiar with were the matters of the heart, at that he had always been clumsy and hesitant, comparing love to a dance.

That's exactly why he could never understand when you walked away; his mind couldn't wrap itself around the concept of you leaving for good, in his heart there was always hope for a last dance.

Your face was carved into his memory, he could draw your every feature down on paper as easily as he could dance with his eyes closed.

Loving you wasn't a rational decision, it was an impulse, something he had grown to adore despite the difficulties it brought along.

The music filling the room suddenly faded, leaving behind the thrumming of his heart reverberating in his eardrums.

He had to admit there was always a bitter taste when that moment arrived, his body not being able to push any further and the music coming to an end.

If it was his decision then he would spend every second of his life doing the things that he loved, without the need of a break, without knowing what an ending meant.

But wishful thinking only ended up hurting his heart, bruising it carelessly as if he wasn't the type to hope on behalf of the entire world.

With a loud exhale he allowed himself to relax, shoulders loosening and eyes opening slowly, as if rushing through the process would be a mistake.

The first thing he saw was his reflection, the rolled sleeves of his shirt, hair clamped together on the front of his face because of his effort, lips parted and chasing an extra breath.

His surroundings were one of those places that gave comfort due to the long time it had been the background of his happiness, his passion for what he did had been sprawled all across the room.

Dragging his feet across the wooden floor, he scrambled to gather his things, barely remembering to grab his phone that had been discarded on the couch when he arrived if it hadn't been for the light buzzing sound coming from it.

The device loomed like a threat over his heart, having the ability to mend everything or put an end to one of those things he loved with an inimaginable fervor.

An unseen message had been sent in blue, waiting impatiently despite not being the first one sent between the both of you.

You had contacted him first; after two weeks of radio silence you had sent four words his way, typical of you.

'Can I call you?' It was unknown to him how long he had spent staring at the dark screen, forcing his eyes to trace the eleven characters that shaped your unorthodox way of asking for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for what? That he no longer knew, perhaps this time you had gotten scared of how ever so well you two worked together and that's why you had decided to walk away, or maybe there was a chance you had just gotten tired of him, again.

The game the both of you played didn't feel like the typical love he saw portrayed in movies but he couldn't find it in him to care, after all, dancing around you had never bothered him in the slightest.

With trembling fingers he had typed an answer, one word, three letters, a simple affirmation.

He tried to be quick, direct and concise; searching the deepest corners of his mind for the answer that could please you the most and immediately regretting the dry response.

But what had been done already wasn't something that should trouble his mind, even if it came to you, the person he craved to have by his side the most.

So, he had abandoned the mobile as soon as he stepped foot in the dance studio, leaving it screen against the couch in hopes that would soothe his anxious heart if only for long enough to enjoy his dancing.

Now that it buzzed with the call that could be the one he couldn't help but walk cautiously forward and take deep breaths before picking up.

"You're done with dance practice, right?" If he had ever wanted to get high on something, it was your voice, along with every single detail about you.

His lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Oh, so you do remember my number?"

A dry chuckle resonated on the line, forcing his mind to picture the scowl twisting the features of your beautiful face, portraying the guilt you never owned up to in front of him.

"Are you free?" Of course you would dodge his comment, but yet again, he couldn't bring himself to care, simply humming in affirmation.

"Okay, then see you in a bit."

Dumbfounded, an amused laugh found its way out of his lips. "Should I know what you mean by that?"

The harmless exasperation painted itself across your every word as you answered. "Do I really need to spell it out for you, Hwang?"

He was inexperienced when it came to love, very much so, but he was an expert when it came to you, always knowing what you meant, what you wanted, the things you needed.

Walking in the direction to your apartment he answered, "I'm afraid yes, I can't know what you mean if you don't explain it, now can I?"

You laughed annoyed, staying in silence for a moment; he couldn't have pushed things far enough yet, he could never, because you happened to love him just as much as he loved you.

"I miss you, okay? Happy now?"

"Very," he said, lips curling in a lovesick grin that shielded him even from the way you abruptly ended the call.

No matter how much you tried to walk away from him, suddenly cutting yourself from his life, you always came back, always stayed in the tiniest of details around him.

Perhaps that had been his mistake, to accept you even with that quirk of getting cold feet, because if only he had stopped it at once then it wouldn't have become a habit, a necessary routine.

But to love is to get tangled so awfully that you can't find your way out, only further falling into the mess of affection and longing.

The two of you just had your special way of working and tackling things, for instance, you hadn't talked to him for half a month and still your spare key remained under the pot of his favourite flower of yours.

Victory grin plastered on, he reached for the metal piece, opening the door of your apartment as if it were his very own home.

Alerted by his steps at the entrance you came to greet him, arms crossed over your chest as if to keep a final barrier between you and the man that owned your heart.

"I missed you too." Was the very first thing he said once he found your eyes staring right at his; it made you smile and he felt accomplished.

"Of course you did." His words melted you in an instant, making you move closer to him and take his hand in yours. "You always do."

And how could he not? How could he bring himself not to miss someone like you? Someone whose mere presence was intoxicating, seeping inside his muscles and veins, putting his being at ease.

Gently, he allowed the pads of his fingers to trace the outline of your nose, your lips, your chin, before leaning in towards you.

A firm hand against his chest stopped him on his track, causing a question to paint his face with confusion.

"You're all sweaty and you stink." You scrunched your nose adorably, as if actually bothered by his smell. "Go take a shower."

"But I want to kiss you first." A pout made his lips stand out, well aware that it sometimes worked wonders with convincing you.

"Nope, no kisses while you're all smelly." And just like that the both of you were back to normal, not caring to drag things for longer than they should with explanations or apologies that fell into deaf ears.

Against your petition he moved forward and embraced you in his arms, suddenly set on stone in making you squeal in complaint.

Moments later dragging you towards the bathroom despite the verbal refusal that didn't match with your eager steps trailing behind him.

Leaving his things forgotten on the entrance along with whatever fear he had harbored in his heart about this time being the time you would leave his side for good, he closed the bathroom door and kissed you.

Your lips felt unfairly soft against his, warm as a blanket that shielded people from every possible unfavorable outcome life could have prepared for them.

Sure hands moving to clasp on the hem of your shirt, slowly moving it upwards the further he got lost into the kiss.

Piece by piece he undressed the both of you until you were down to heart and soul, truths lying bare for eyes to pry and discover the biggest vulnerability in them.

Knowing the place as well enough as his own home, he turned around to set the water into the perfect temperature for the both of you, never cold.

Then he led you like you needed to be held, careful and attentive, eyes never leaving yours in a new attempt to learn every detail embedded in your pupils.

He turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and hugging you close until there was no space in between, his lips finding the way to your shoulder, pressing soft kisses meant to fix any remnants of doubt.

"Were you this touch deprived?" The amusement could be easily missed in between the calm of your voice that threatened to melt under his fingertips.

"Yes," he answered immediately, no time for thinking needed, "when it comes to you I'm always touch deprived, I can never get enough of you."

He couldn't be more honest even if he was asked to testify in court and make a pledge that allowed him to say nothing but the absolute truth, because he loved you with an intensity that sometimes could be mistaken as meek due to it's soft and innocent nature.

Hyunjin loved you the way someone loves something unobtainable, innocent and patiently, willing to wait entire lifetimes for stars to align and give him the pleasure of being in your presence.

Your hands moved to rest atop his where they were clasped together against your bare torso, thumbs escaping to rub soothing circles into your skin.

Trailing kisses up your neck he allowed himself to hope that every one of his touches reverberated with warmth all the way to your heart in the same fashion that yours did to him.

For you he would learn how to love properly, he would even understand to let go if that was what you truly wanted at some point in the future.

"I love you." The words felt like dripping honey as they slipped in between his lips for the very first time.

"I love you too," you answered, not even leaving time for him to panic at the sudden frankness with which his deepest sentiment had been revealed.

For a love like yours, he would always wait, always fight to make things better.

[nukacoola]

Companions React to Sole Visiting Their Dead Spouse Part 1/2

Ada:

Today Sole had informed Ada that they wanted to visit the vault they had come from. Ada had heard a bit about vaults from Jackson but she had yet to visit one herself. When they began to descend on the elevator that led to the vault, Ada noticed Sole’s mood start to shift. She recognized the emotion in Sole’s face to be sadness, greif. Ada knew of this emotion from what she had experienced with Jackson and her fellow robot’s deaths. She began to suspect that Sole was visiting the death site of someone who she was close to. They continued to walk

 through the vault until they arrived at the entrance of a short hall. The hall seemed to house a number of large machines. Ada’s internal thermometer told her that it was quite cold so she assumed the machines were the source of the unusual temperature. Sole’s mood seemed to worsen as they led Ada down the hall. Ada noticed as they walked that frozen human corpses were held in each of the pod-like machines. When they stopped before one of the pods towards the end of the hall it became clear to Ada that Sole had a relationship with the deceased human they had stopped at. Sole looked up at the deceased human and their eyes began to water. Ada remembered back to her own experiences with death and grief. She felt she had to help Sole as Sole had helped her. 

“I understand how you feel, Ma’am/Sir. If there is anything I can do to aid you please let me know.” Sole smiled sadly and turned slightly. 

“Thank you, Ada. I appreciate you being here for me.” Sole then turned back to face the dead human. They shed a few tears before they approached a control panel that presumably controlled the machine the dead human was in. They pulled a lever and the Ada heard a hiss of the pod depressurising. The door to the pod slowly opened as Sole approached the human. They seemed to be taking a ring off of the hand of the human. They held the cold metal to their lips and whispered something Ada could not hear before slipping the ring in their pocket. 

“Alright, we can go now.” They addressed Ada as they moved to close the door of the pod. “Thank you.” They repeated.

“You are welcome, Ma’am/Sir.” Ada responded. Ada and Sole then left the vault together. Ada knew that there was no way she could repay Sole for how they helped her, but she would still continue to try.

Cait:

“Why do we have ta go to this stupid ice box again?” Cait complained, rubbing her bare arms. 

“It’s not my fault you refused to wear a coat.” Sole joked but Cait noticed their voice had a twinge of sadness in it. Cait had been confused when Sole asked her to come to Vault 111 with them. They’d been traveling together for ages and Sole didn’t really ask Cait if she wanted to go places, they just went. The location of today was weird as well. Usually they had a purpose for the places they went. Some lazy settlers couldn’t get off their arse’s to fight off a few ghouls or they were gettin’ a handful a’ caps to go fight a bunch a’ muties. Today’s trip to Vault 111 was weird and out of the blue. Cait didn’t like it but it seemed important to Sole so she agreed. Together they walked further into the vault and the further they walked the colder it got. They eventually reached a wide hall full of weird human sized containers. Cait noticed the ice that slicked the floor and the frost that stuck to the windows of the weird containers as they passed the first one she peered in the window. The dead body of a frozen woman in a vault suit was inside. She had seen a fair amount of bad shit in her day and this whole vault definitely made the cut. Sole had stopped in front of an ice coffin close to the end of the hall when Cait realized. Sole had told her about their dead spouse a while back and they’d also mentioned how they’re from a vault. This was that vault. That body they were now cryin’ in front of was their spouse. Seeing Sole like that did not feel good. Not good at all. She needed to reassure them, she hated it when they were upset.

“I know this must be difficult for you.” She stepped forwards, “I… I’m here if you need to talk.” Sole turned to her and smiled. They reached out their hand to take Cait’s. 

“Thank you, Cait. You’re a great friend.” They squeezed Cait’s hand. Cait squeezed back and watched Sole as hot tears continued to roll down their cheeks. She hoped that one day they could be more than friends. Maybe then Cait could wipe those tears away an’ kiss away the burns of grief they had left behind. For now, though, this is all she needed. 

Codsworth:

It had been a hard week for Sole and Codsworth. The initial reunion of the two had been nothing but joyful. The family had been reunited against all odds! But of course it wasn’t the whole family. The absence of Sole’s better half and young Shaun left a gaping hole in both Sole’s real and Codsworth’s metaphorical hearts. The shock of their partner’s murder and Shaun’s kidnapping had worn off for Sole and in it’s wake, it left them cripplingly depressed. The past three days Sole had barely been able to get out of bed. They just listened to their partner’s holotape on repeat while cradling young Shaun’s favorite rattle in their arms’. Codsworth had been doing his best to care for them, bringing them food and water and making sure to check up on them every hour or so, but he was becoming worried. He was just preparing lunch for Sole when he was surprised by their figure standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Codsworth greeted them excitedly. Sole awkwardly hugged his large metal body and thanked him for all the meals he had prepared and all the patience he had shown. They explained how when they had left the vault, they were in such shock that they never got to say a real goodbye to their partner. Codsworth listened patiently and happily agreed when they asked him to accompany them back to the vault to say a real goodbye.

They entered the cold concrete bunker which Codsworth had previously waited and hoped to see stir for over 210 years. Sole led him through the halls and the two eventually arrived at some machinery which Sole identified as the cryogenic freezing pods. They approached the end of the hall and Sole moved to one of the many control panels next two one of the many pods. After puzzling over the panel they tried pulling a red lever. The large door of the cryo pod hissed as it slowly opened to reveal their spouse. Standing next to Codsworth in front of their partner, they grabbed and held the grasper fixed on one of his three arms. Even with one his beloved family members standing dead right before him, Codsworth still couldn’t believe it.

“Oh dear, is that…” he trailed off, “Mum/Sir, I’m… I’m so sorry.” Codsworth tried to keep his heartbroken voice steady as Sole began to softly sob next to him. He wished more than anything he could hug them, but since he could not, this almost hand holding would have to do. They stood there, mourning together for about two hours before Sole was ready to go. They were still very torn up. But it seemed as if a large weight had been lifted from their chest. Before they closed their partner’s pod, Sole went up to them and removed their wedding ring.

“I’ll find who did this, and I’ll get Shaun back. I promise” they said to their spouse.

“Indeed Mum/Sir. We’ll stop at nothing to get young Shaun back!” Sole smiled at Codsworth and together the two set off to find Sole’s baby.

Curie:

After everything Sole had done to help Curie, there wasn’t even a second thought on whether or not she would go with them to the vault they had come from. She would help Sole with anything, no matter what. When she had first booted up in vault 81 she was very excited to dedicate herself to the scientific endeavors of Vault-Tec. When her fellow scientist informed her of how they would be growing hundreds of pathogens in mole rats and testing these pathogens on unsuspecting humans, she felt bad. As bad as a Ms.Nanny model robot could at least. She eventually grew attached to the mole rats they were infecting. She was especially fond of sweet little Clyde. When one day Clyde escaped his cage, Curie did not have time to warn the scientists she had worked with. Despite her friend’s deaths, Curie took solace in the fact that the morally gray work of Vault-Tec’s could not continue. Despite the conductors of the experiment's deaths, Curie continued her work. 200 years later, she had been finished with the cure for a long while. She was pretty much stuck in this small area of the vault waiting to be told she could leave. Thankfully, Sole came along and her prayers were answered! They released her and told her about a young boy who was infected. She was able to help the one human who had the misfortune of being infected by the molerat disease with her life’s work, the cure. After that, Sole had welcomed Curie to continue her scientific studies alongside them. When Sole eventually helped Curie become alive, however, was when Curie truly understood how much she loved Sole. She would go to the ends of the earth for them so accompanying them to a vault was, as Sole might say, no big deal.

On the walk to the vault Sole told an inquisitive Curie about the experiment 111 had performed. They also told Curie how losing their spouse and child happened while they were still trapped in their cryogenic pod. They told Curie that they were visiting the body of their deceased spouse. It wasn’t too long of a walk before they reached the familiar facility. Sole led Curie through the cool halls of the vault and down a short hall to their spouse’s body. They took a deep breath and stepped up to the control panel adjacent to the cryo pod. After fiddling with the controls the pod appeared to depressurize and open. Curie’s heart ached for Sole. She knew how loss felt and of all the human emotions she was now able to feel, she liked that one the least. 

Sole began to cry at seeing their deceased partner again. Curie had an urge to cry too. It was such an awful feeling. As much as she wanted to though, she knew she couldn’t give in to it. She had to stay strong for her dearest friend who must be struggling a lot more than she is right now. She stepped closer to her partner and gently laid a hand on their upper back. 

“I wish I knew how to make zis better. It iz not a phyzical injury that I can heal.” Curie was silent for a moment, thinking of what to say next, “However I know it still hurts terribly. I am here for you always.” Sole slumped and began to cry harder which made Curie very worried. Maybe she had said the wrong thing! Did she make it worse? But right when she was going to apologize and excuse herself Sole turned around and hugged her tightly. She hugged back and allowed Sole to cry on her shoulder. 

“Thank you Curie, you’re the best.” They sniffled out. Curie smiled as a few stray tears fell down her face. She was so glad she was able to help her friend as they have helped her so many times before.

Danse: 

Danse hadn’t known what to expect when his fellow soldier had requested they make a stop at Vault 111 during their recon mission to the far reaches of the commonwealth. He of course knew that Sole was from this vault. They had told him so upon their first meeting. He remembered being surprised that Sole had admitted to being a Vault Dweller, though he now understood they probably had no idea of the stigma surrounding Vault Dwellers as they had only been above ground for a short time. Nonetheless, when he granted permission for his subordinate to lead him to the vault he assumed they wanted to go back for something they had not taken when they had first left. He never suspected to walk into a graveyard of frozen corpses. Of course he knew the basics of what had occurred here. Sole had told him a bit about their spouse and the cruel experiment unknowingly performed on them both. Even knowing this, experiencing the criminal loss of life Vault-Tec had caused first hand was rather sickening. He could only imagine what Sole was going through. 

Danse soon found that he did not have to imagine. Sole had led him down an isle of frozen bodies before stopping in front one. He noticed their hands were shaking as they reached for the control panel standing next to the pod they had stopped at. They pulled a red lever and the contraption hissed as the door began to open. Danse could see a frozen body held within the metal pod. Sole’s whole body was shaking now. From his place off to the side of them he could see tears rolling down their cheeks. This must be their spouse. Danse was at a loss. He wanted to help them but he knew there was no way he could do anything that would get them over such an incredible loss. Even so, he needed to do something. His power armor hissed as it depressurized. He stepped out of it and approached Sole. 

“Take as long as you need, Soldier.”  He placed a hand on their shoulder briefly before turning away to give them space. As he began to leave, Sole grabbed his hand. He turned to them, surprised. He only got to see the tears streaming down Sole’s red, blotchy cheeks for a moment before they roughly pulled him towards them for a hug. Shocked, he stiffened. It was only when they started to softly sob into his chest that he refocused and hugged them back. They stayed that way for a long time. Danse couldn’t help but think back to Scribe Haylen. The situation was nearly the same and yet he didn’t have the same ache in his chest when he had held the scribe. Eventually Sole’s sobs turned to sniffles and sniffles to silence. Their hold on him loosed and Danse took this as his queue to release them. Their face was still puffy and red but as he looked down at them while they smiled up at him he couldn’t help but think how beautiful they looked. 

“Thank you.” They breathed. Danse simply nodded. Sole turned away from him to right themselves and he used this opportunity to get back into his power armor. Sole closed up the cryogenics pod and they left the vault without another word shared. Danse hoped he had helped them. Even if it was only in a small way.

Deacon:

When Sole asked Deacon to accompany them on a visit to Vault 111, he of course accepted. This is not to say that he was excited. Far from it. He would never admit it to them, but he had done a lot of research on Vault 111 far before he had met Sole. He had taken a particular interest in this vault after hearing a rumor of Institute activity near it. After trying and failing to get into it, he went to Vault-Tec headquarters in hopes of finding some more info on this particular experiment. He had been able to guess the vault had some type of human-cryogenic-preservation thing going on due to terminals he’d read there and books he’d read elsewhere. After Sole had left the vault, the interior door was open and Deacon was able to explore further. One cryo pod being open while the rest were full of corpses painted a pretty clear picture. The internal terminals allowed Deacon to discover that there was once an infant “housed” there. The infant belonged to the vaultie he saw leave and the only corpse who’s cause of death was a bullet to the head. It was pretty clear to him what had happened. What he didn’t know was what the Institute needed with an infant.

Due to his research, Deacon obviously knew exactly what happened in that Vault. He also knew how much it had taken from Sole specifically and he had a pretty good idea of why they wanted to go back. His suspicions were confirmed when they led him down a familiar hall of cryo pods. They stopped close to the end of the short hallway to stand in front of the dead person Deacon had first seen almost a year ago. He looked to Sole, they were staring at the body and shivering. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the murder. He settled on both. He tried not to remember just how much he understood their pain, but of course he couldn’t forget. His chest tightened as he saw tears beginning to leak from their eyes. They shakily reached for the control panel next to the coffin and pulled the red lever to open it. Their face began to contort into an expression Deacon knew very well. Their tears were flowing freely now and he felt he had to do something, anything to try to help them. He approached them and placed a hand on their shoulder, effectively wrapping his arm around them. They stood there for about a minute, Sole sniffling from time to time, before Sole turned into him and wrapped their arms around him. Deacon didn’t think about how it could be dangerous when he hugged them back, he just did. He held Sole in that cold, empty room for a long time. Even after Sole had stopped crying, they stood there. 

“Thanks Dee.” Sole whispered before finally letting go of Deacon. They looked up at him, smiling and though he didn’t know why he felt his stomach flip, he provided a small smile back. Sole closed the pod and together the pair left Vault 111, hopefully, for the last time.

Dogmeat:

When Dogmeat woke up that morning it was just another day with his wonderful friend. Throughout the day however, Dogmeat began to worry. He felt his friend start to become sad. This made him sad too. He loved his friend! He wanted his friend to be happy! He stuck close to their side especially when they entered a very cold big place which seemed to make his friend even more sad. He and his friend walked further into the cold place until they decided to stop. His friend sat down on the cold floor so Dogmeat did too. He saw that his friend had begun to cry. He whimpered and rested his head in his friend’s lap. For a while they sat, Dogmeat’s friend slowly stroking Dogmeat’s fur and eventually, they stopped crying. Dogmeat sat up and blinked at his friend. His friend gave him a sad smile, he gave them a big slobbery kiss. His friend laughed and so he gave them another kiss. His friend kissed his forehead before standing. Together, they walked out of the cold place. Dogmeat was happy, and he felt his friend was too.

Gage: Gage was never into the touchy feely stuff but he had to admit he had a soft spot for the Overboss. They’re badass as hell and take no shit but they also knew how to be compassionate when they needed to be. It was something Gage had never been able to do well and something he respected in his boss. There was something off about them the day they asked Gage to accompany them to Vault 111 in the Commonwealth. They seemed more timid, like they were worried about his response. He’d already told them he’d follow them to the ends of the earth and he meant it so of course he said yes. The trip was long and the boss seemed to get quieter and more down the closer they got to the vault. This was worrying to Gage. Like he said, he wasn’t good at the touchy feely stuff. He wasn’t gonna know how to deal with it if the Boss needed someone to comfort them from whatever was making them sad. 

They finally reached the vault and Sole instructed him to stand on the gear shaped platform while they ran over to a small building nearby. After about 30 seconds lights around the platform started to flash. There was the sound of a blaring alarm paired with a rumbling of the ground beneath him. He was about to get the hell off of the thing but Sole ran over to wait on the platform next to him. If it was safe in Sole’s eyes, Gage supposed he would trust it. After a few seconds the platform started to lower with a loud screech of metal on metal. Despite the bad feeling that was growing exponentially inside of him he followed the Overboss’ example. When the vault elevator brought them down to solid ground again, Sole led the way through a cold metal complex to a bunch of weird machinery that really just looked like a bunch of fancy coffins. Looking through the small glass windows on the weird pods proved that that’s exactly what they were. Sole’s footsteps were heavy and slow as they led Gage down the icey corridor. There was something very personal about this place to them. He would soon find out what it was as they stopped in front of on of the coffins. Sole fidgeted with their hands for a moment before they reached to the control panel next to the pod and opened it. There was a hiss of depressurization when the door opened to reveal a body. Someone they’d obviously known and been close to. The Boss’ posture slumped and they started… crying. They were crying… Dammit, Gage had no idea how to deal with this. He had to do something to let them know he cared though, because he did. He stepped closer to Sole reaching his hand out to them before recoiling it. Oh god. Alright just say something, anything.

“Hey, uh, Boss, I just want you to know- well I get it. And I’m real sorry.” They huffed a laugh through tears. Fuck did he do it wrong?? But before he could worry too much they turned to him with a sad smile. 

“Thank you Gage, really, thank you.” He nodded stiffly, not knowing how else to react. They stood there in silence for a while before Sole closed the pod and stepped back, wiping their tears away. Gage looked away put of respect until they cleared their throat. “Ready to get out of this shithole?” They smiled at him.

“Hell yeah, you lead the way, Boss.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I saw a video of the Companion’s comments upon bringing them back to Vault 111 and opening your spouses pod and I wanted to write a little thing. :) The bold sentences are real in game dialogue but not every character has some. This is part 1 of 2 so if your favorite isn’t in this one don’t worry. 

[songbirdsingingthings]

Polka-dotted Bandages

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury, the tiniest bit of angst, and fluff galore <3

Requested by @luluwiie​ :

"There is no limit in the number of requests", you said? Welllll... then can I request ? 😳❤ if the answer is yes: can I request a slow burn / pining Todoroki x Reader Oneshot ? 😶👉👈 Like, when they train together, Reader got into the habit of always taking care of his scratches and wounds, which at first confused Todoroki, cause Recovery girl is there for this, right ? But with time he got used and even grew attached to this little habit of ours. And one day, for some reason, Reader ends up badly injured (in a fight, against vilains? Idk), and he rushes to the hospital and is like sooo worried.. and when Reader wakes up they find like some band-aids on their little scratches, just like the ones they often use for him ? And we get to see their reunion Ajajdusdj TYSM if you do it 😳❤

A/N: I LITERALLY FELL IN LOVE WITH THIS REQUEST.... which is why I had to rewrite it like twenty times before I was finally satisfied with how it turned out lol. I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for the request! <3

Word Count: 2.2K

Ever since the age of five when his quirk made itself known to him, the world, and most unfortunately his father, little nicks and cuts were always a common thing to find all over his body. To this day, however careful Shouto was in training, they were ordinary occurrences. It wasn’t like he was careless, far from it in fact, he just got a little… distracted sometimes. How could he not when you were training right across from him? Your skill and poise were originally the traits that drew him in to hoping for a friendship with you. Those paired with your optimistic personality and effortless smile captured his attention completely. So, when he accidentally grazed his leg against a piece of metal that was jutting out haphazardly, he was unprepared for your attention to be on him.

“Shouto, are you okay? That looks like it really hurts,” you huff, out of breath from the last set of crunches you had just completed. The red-and-white haired boy looked in between you and his now bleeding cut with a somewhat blank stare.

“Oh… yes I think I’m fine,” He answered awkwardly, assessing the wound and slowly moving his hand to cover it. That is, until your hand caught his wrist.

“Wait, your hands aren’t clean!” You exclaim as you dig through your bag with the hand that wasn’t currently occupied. “Here, I have some disinfectant in my bag.” Shouto watches as you pull the little bottle of antiseptic out of your bag as well as some cotton balls and a little box of bandages. You douse one of the cotton balls with some disinfectant, accidentally spilling a little on your hands in the process, and hold it right in front of his cut. “Do you mind?” You ask, making sure Shouto was okay with your movements.

“No, go ahead,” He manages, keeping his composure but feeling his heart skip a bit. You flash him a grin before placing one of your hands on his leg to steady yourself.

“This might sting a bit, but it goes away pretty quickly,” you explain, slowly pressing the cotton ball to his wound. You made sure to clean the dirt and grime away quickly, your gentle and dexterous fingers going around the edges of the cut.

“Y/N?” Shouto’s voice was somewhat jarring in the comfortable silence you two had, causing your gaze to snap up to his.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” You asked hurriedly, your eyes filled with concern. He shook his head, allowing you a breath of relief before turning your attention back on his wound.

“I’m just curious as to why you are doing this, since we have Recovery Girl on call all day. I’m sure it would be no issue for her,” He asked as you disposed of the now slightly bloody cotton ball and digged around in the box to pull out a blue and white polka-dotted bandage.

“Well I didn’t want you to accidentally infect it,” you begin, smoothing the bandage across the cut, “plus, it's nice to do things like this for a friend, don’t you think?” You smile, satisfied that the coverage of the polka dots fit perfectly over the damaged skin. Your eyes finally go back up to Shouto, whose hand was held out to you. You take it as he helps you stand from your crouched position on the floor. Shouto smiled at the little notion and fell into a comfortable pace with you as the both of you walked back towards the direction of the dorms. Over time, Shouto began to like the little habit the two of you developed - he liked it quite a lot. Not ever had he been touched in such a caring and tender manner, and when it was coming from you… it was pure solace that he felt. And, gradually, as the two of you fell into a comfortable friendship - with more than a few lingering glances on his part - he felt that finally he was at a time in his life where he found someone that could understand him completely. 

Buildings were leveled, the streets had craters in them, and your breathing was uneven. Of course, when Class 1A was on a day trip into the city, villains had decided to take action. The day was going too perfectly, you guessed. It really only was once in a while that the teachers would let you have a long day off to go shopping or enjoy the city life. Due to this incident, though, you’re pretty sure that they’ll be revoking those privileges as soon as the class steps their feet back on UA property. If you were lucky, maybe you wouldn’t be confined in the big dorm building for a week due to safety concerns.

“H/N, you take the guy on the left, I’ll take the annoying one in the middle!” You heard your classmate, Mina, shout to you. The pink-haired girl was currently fighting off a criminal with a nasty quirk - blood manipulation, as long as they were in some physical pain themself. That was probably why the guy was intentionally biting down on his tongue.

“You’ve got it!” You yell back, launching yourself into the fray and readying your quirk to attack. With the villain set straight on in front of you, you let your eyes zero in on them, everything besides them becoming a blur. That was why, when the enemy that was fighting Mina set their sights on you, you were unable to react quick enough.

Shouto was, more or less, beginning to panic. Everyone was accounted for… everyone except for you. That’s when he caught sight of a familiar pink-haired girl crouching down with tears leaking from her eyes.

“Ashido, have you seen Y/N?” He asked exasperatedly, beginning to grow frustrated with the lack of information involving the Y/H/C haired girl. This only caused Mina to sob more, her pitiful gaze finally looking up into Shouto’s.

“Th-they hit me with their quirk and it made the wind get knocked out of me,” she hiccuped, wiping underneath her eyes to try and rid the moisture from her cheeks. “They hurt Y/N really, really badly.” As soon as those words left her lips, Shouto felt his entire body grow cold. It wasn’t like the cold he used to regulate his body temperature when he used too much of his left side. This was a chill that encompassed his body as a whole, making him feel hollow. As Mina’s words grew more jumbled, Shouto felt his breathing go shallow and his hands beginning to tremble.

“Where,” He asked forcefully.

“Musutafu General Hospital.” 

And with those three words, Shouto began running, and didn’t stop until he was at the massive glass doors of the lobby. He walked swiftly to the help desk and slammed his hands on the top of it, a little harder than he intended.

“Y/N L/N, she’s a member of Class 1A at UA, and she was taken to this hospital due to events that occurred downtown. Where is she.” The receptionist looked up to find an angered Shoto, his eyes blazing and narrowed.

“I-I’m sorry?” They asked, a little terrified of him.

“Y/N L/N, she is a patient here. WHERE IS SHE?” He demanded. The receptionist jumped in their seat and began to vigorously click on their computer, searching through patient charts.

“She’s, uh, on floor four, just got out of emergency surgery and is recovering. Room 107.” He didn’t stay to hear anything else they had to say as he sprinted to the staircase, ascending the stairs in record speed. When he arrived on the correct floor, a sudden feeling of misery descended upon him. Sitting in a little seating area, he saw as surgeons - still clad in their scrubs - were hugging a family of four, all of them sobbing in despair. This stirred him to now stumble down the hallways wildly, frantically checking the room numbers on both sides until he found the three numbers he was looking for. 107. Slowly, he pushed the door open to find you laying down on a hospital bed. 

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing you felt was the whole body ache that held onto your body like a vice. I’m never complaining about stomach or calf cramps again, you think, squinting to try and see anything in the harsh hospital room lighting. You groaned as you sat up, feeling the pang of pain in the small of your back. You smiled, though, when you saw all the things dotted all over your room. Vases of flowers were placed on the tables, from your vantage point you could spot the familiar petals of peonies - the flowers that symbolize life and good health. On the table next to you, lots of cards were propped up. Some had cheesy “get well soon!” messages scrawled across the front, others a bit more demure. And, as you reached to grab and read one, that’s when you saw them. The familiar pattern of blue and white polka dots left you breathless as you stopped your previous movements and began to inspect them further. These were exactly like the ones that were always in your bag, the ones that are so specifically designed that only one store sells them. You were sure that the hospital you were staying in didn’t make an effort to buy pretty looking bandages for their patients and nobody else knew where to find them in your bag. Nobody else except...

“Shouto…” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears.

“Y/N?” Standing in the door frame stood the exact boy whose name was just uttered from your lips. Dressed in a soft, black turtleneck - the one you always found so flattering on him - and a pair of beige pants. In his hand held the most beautiful red carnations you had ever seen, the petals so dainty and the stems so thin you feared they would break if he even moved them. 

“Here, put them in this vase next to-” your speech was interrupted as Shouto let the bouquet fall to the tiled floor, his body moving on autopilot to encase you in his arms, his head wedging itself between your neck and head.

“You’re okay.” He mumbles.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re safe.”

“I’m safe.” Shouto lingers there for a moment before pulling himself back into a standing position, helping you reposition your body on the bed, trying to get more comfortable. The two of you stay in silence for a moment before you speak up.

“Thank you for patching me up,” you say simply, your voice soft as you tilt your head towards the polka-dotted bandages. You see Shouto’s lips quirk up a bit.

“You’re always taking care of me, so I wanted to take care of you. Even if the hospital staff had to do the heavy lifting.” He says, sitting down in the chair next to your bed, pulling it closer so that the two of you were as close as possible. Your hand immediately finds his, grabbing hold of it. 

“Shouto, I-”

“Y/N, when I’m around you, I feel the skin on my face grow hot.” His statement caught you off guard. “My stomach turns, too, when you smile at me and look at me in the eye.” You suck in a breath, hoping that what he was trying to say was the same thing you had been feeling for ages. Shouto takes a deep breath before squeezing your hand. “At first I thought I was sick and caught something, due to the increase in temperature, but I realized that I only began to feel this way when you first put a blue polka-dotted bandage on my leg. And then that feeling only came around when you were near.” Finally looking up to meet your eyes, Shouto gazes at you with such care and affection you felt that you could melt. “I think… I think I love you.” Your shocked face soon softens into one of adoration and a grin spreads across your cheeks.

“I love you too.” You see Shouto breathe in relief before taking the hand he was holding and pressing a soft kiss to the back of yours. Your heart flutters at his gesture, encouraging you all the more to pull him towards you so that he could lay on the bed. Quickly, the both of you found comfort as he held you, letting his fingers trace lightly around the polka-dotted bandages. “Will you let me keep on taking care of you? Whenever you get scrapes or bruises… or if something makes you happy or sad or feel anything at all?” You murmured, letting your head fall against his chest. You feel him nodding his head.

“Only if I can take care of you, too.” You smiled, glancing back at the blue and white polka dots to see Shouto’s thumb brushing against it.

“Okay, deal.”

[junhuiste]

twice twice baby (preview)

pairing: jake x gn reader x sunghoon

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, college!au, hockey player!jake, ice skater!sunghoon, sports med assistant!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, cursing, slightly suggestive scenes

a/n: this is just a preview of the bigger piece i plan to publish much later, so it pretty much only has jake, sorry hoonists! also gonna address it here while we’re at it, but i wanna apologize to everyone who sent requests in! i have them all plotted, most drafted and written, but i didn’t realize when i moved back home how busy i would be with work, summer classes, and looking for an apartment! i will have them published before the end of summer though! this piece is coming out before only because i wrote it well before finals week lol

taglist: please let me know if you wanna be part of the taglist!

Being in a parallelogram (or was it a dodecagon? A triangle? whatever) with the two notorious ‘Ice Hotties’ at your college, Jake Sim, the captain of the hockey team, and Park Sunghoon, the world class figure skater, is easy. Geometry isn’t that complicated...right?

As you entered into the arena, a cold blast of air struck, prompting you to jump slightly in your tracks, cursing that it was men’s hockey season and not basketball anymore. Albeit arms shivering, knees wobbling, and barely being able to make any strides at all, you weren’t distraught and to some extent trembling because of the ice rink or the ice packs inside the pouch seemingly glued to your waist, or hell, even the unnecessary air conditioner giving its all. Really, did they need to keep that fucking thing on when it was already polar-arctic-adjacent inside the arena? Probably to keep the rink from oozing into water and having Atlantis actually come to fruition...whatever, fuck the cold!

“Y/N, let’s get on it. We’re a bit late.” The head athletic trainer indicated, speed-walking a little too quickly for your liking, but what were you to do when your chest was heaving upon arrival at the ice center? Suck it up? Collapse and crawl into a ball?

Nodding, even though she was practically scurrying and leaving your curtailing ass in the dust, you heightened your pace despite the fact that your legs were about to give out at any second. Weren’t cold spaces supposed to make a solid more rigid, not turn your legs to jelly?

The both of you finally reached the area where the players were situated to greet the head and assistant hockey coaches.

“This is Y/N,” your trainer (whom insisted you just skip the formalities and call her Mina) motioned to you, slightly yet noticeably panting, “a first year, but they’ve done men’s basketball, women’s soccer and some gymnastics last semester. They know their stuff!”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” The head coach reaches out to grip your hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet y—“ once more today you jump, this time not shaken by the frozen tundra or by the vehemently boisterous buzzer, though it was much more thundering than the buzzer at the basketball court for some reason, but by the announcers cheering, “first year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim!”

And the crowd? They didn’t just go wild, no, they were literally cacophonous, the ground beneath and the arena stands rumbling, practically rivaling the San Andreas fault. Craning your neck to look around the oval shaped space and just how many students from your school, clad in university regalia, were present to see guys battle it out with plastic sticks on frozen water, even that, the entire scene wasn’t what had your heart nearly palpitating out of your chest.

First year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim. Now that was enough to warrant a blood pressure monitor...and possibly a defibrillator.

Almost giving yourself whiplash from turning around too quickly, it was hard not to gape at the boy coasting across the ice, waving at the all too excited crowd. And even through his helmet and from across the rink, you could make out his dark, glimmering irises, like how the sun’s edges would peak through from behind during an eclipse. It was kind of charmingly sickening actually, that someone could be as radiant as he was, under all the bulky gear, even despite the temperature. It wasn’t convenient actually that it had to be men’s hockey this time, that you, as the athletic trainer’s sports medicine intern had to attend the games for. Yeah, it was for credits. Sure, it was for intern experience...but what was the point if you only expected to make a fool out of yourself trying to tend to Jake and his teammates’ possible injuries?

It wasn’t fair, actually, that you were hopelessly in like with Jake Sim and that he didn’t even know your name when you were in the same physics class. To be fair though, it was a class of about 400, an infamous weeder course that crushed the poor souls of innocent underclassmen, so to have him direct any sort of attention your way, even a mere glimpse, would be laughable. That was what happened when you sat in the back, though.

Of course it just had to be Jake Sim that completely bewitched you, and he didn’t have to twirl any fingers or fixate any potions to have you just so damn spellbound. All he had to do was show up to freshman orientation with that stupid inviting grin of his, and that dumb glint in his eye that no one else seemed to possess. No, of course he just had to show up and be almost too cordial to everyone in your orientation group, even though all the other students, including you, could not give a single damn about the campus tour. And yes, of course, he just had to have the masses absolutely enamored with him, both upper and underclassmen alike.

Consider all of that, with Jake’s insane schedule, not that you knew anything specific, just that he had games on Tuesdays and Thursdays, coupled with daily practices, but you were only privy to that information because Mina always gave you the athletic teams’ agendas for the month. So yes, trying to garner any attention from Jake was like floating right smack in the middle of the Pacific, sending some sort of signal through a marine radio, and getting no response back. Not a hint that anyone was coming. No helicopters whirring above, no boats sent out ashore. What would he want to do with the first-aid kid, the person that sat in the back, the person that was paying attention to something else at the moment, and not the fact that they had to observe players carefully for potential injuries?

Well, sorry to Jake’s teammates and Mina, but you just couldn’t pry your eyes off of number three. How he skated in such an agile manner while simultaneously defending assertively was certainly an image now seared into your mind. The way he commanded the court was just so—“You paying attention? Are you okay today?” Mina snapped you out of your nonsensical trance.

“Yeah, yeah of course! Always on my toes like you said...” your eyes told a different story, and deceived you at that.

“And there’s number three, Sim, with the first goal!”

Jake skated backwards to high five his teammates and to prepare to defend, and it was definitely a sight to see him so animated, feeling right where he should be in his domain.

“Ah, I see. Number three is it? I heard he’s a beast on the ice,” Mina nudged and winked slyly at you, “anyway, pay attention ‘cause if your little ice boy gets hurt you know we gotta move quickly.”

It was already enough to have your friends taunt you about your silly adolescent infatuation with Jake, now to have your mentor in on it too? Mina was right though, you were here to wrap ankles and tend to bruised hips, not ogle at the team captain.

“Gotcha. On my toes!” you winked back at her, semi-ready to do your job. If you could predict injuries before they even happened during the basketball and soccer games you should be more than capable of caring for the hockey players. Whipping your head around to finally and legitimately focus on the members, you really wished you hadn’t.

There he was, number three, adept and dodging the defensive players, with the puck sliding in tandem with his stick. Then, it happened all too quickly, in a tenth of a second, too much for everyone spectating to comprehend.

BAM.

Suddenly, Jake was on his back after he and the opposing player too combatively collided into each other. You blinked once and now he was supine on ice, clutching a leg to his chest. His teammates and the referees hastily surrounded him, but you could not watch anymore, you had to do what you were here for.

Running past both the coaches, lamenting what the hells and go go go! at Mina, you dashed to the edge of the rink, about to enter and slip on the ice, but stopped yourself, because you didn’t have skates on. Fuck. Mina and you always ran to the scene of the injury, and you’d only dealt with hardwood floors and grass fields, but never ice. There was no reason for you to just stand around though, as Jake was being lifted by the referees. As much as you wanted to glue your eyes to the catastrophe, you sprinted to the locker room to fetch the cooler.

“Everyone, move!” You shouted at the towering players standing in your way. Setting the cooler on the floor, you directed some of them to assemble a few of the chairs they were sitting on for a makeshift cot for Jake to rest his leg on. Nervously yet rapidly, you dug into your backpack for a splint, pre-wrap, and medical tape.

When you stood back up, Jake and the referees were at the rink’s entrance, with Mina extending her arms to steady him once he transitioned from ice to linoleum. And through all this he maintained the same tender-hearted curve on his face, beaming at Mina and thanking the referees.

One of Jake’s coaches and Mina propped Jake around their shoulders as he hopped on one foot to your nearby station. Assisting them in getting Jake to sit down, you were shaking slightly out of feverishness and hormones, even though it was the perfect temperature for snowfall, but forming a resistance to doing that was almost impossible.

Christ, you weren’t like this when Taehyun tore his ligament last semester at the basketball semi-finals, or when Yuna sprained her toe out on the field, yet it was due to that certain someone that you just could not find it within you to operate as you usually did. It was imperative that you got out of your own head; Jake was merely another athlete you had to tend to and someone you, quite frankly, had to get over, like now.

Once Jake was seated with his right leg propped up on the opposite chair, he took his helmet off and handed it to his coach standing guard next to him.

“Mina, you guys got this?” The coach hesitantly asked your trainer.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about, Coach Kim! We’ve seen worse than this; we’re good, right Y/N?”

You gave Coach Kim a measly thumbs up and he rushed to get back to the rest of the team to continue with the game, deliberating who would substitute in now that their best player was on the sidelines.

While Mina undid Jake’s skates and kneepads, you assessed him before you could get started, asking him what kind of pain he had in his leg, how much it hurt on a scale of 1-10, and if he could wiggle his toes.

Sharp and kind of aching, I think. 8.5-ish, actually maybe just 8. Toes wiggling.

“Um, okay. Good that your toes are still intact, which means you’re gonna be okay, but is there any other part of your body that hurts?” You tried not to sound like a complete buffoon, trying to enunciate your words properly like you did with several other injured athletes; Jake shouldn’t have been any different. He was, though.

“Yeah, I feel like there’s a bruise on the right side of my body somewhere,” he said, motioning to his abdomen.

“Okay...I’m gonna take your shoulder pads off and you have to take your jersey off so we can ice it, is that cool with you?” Your brain was bouncing off the walls at the mention of “take” and “off”. Come on, this wasn’t fucking NASA, although it might as well have been, as he was a universe and a half to you (in a melodramatic way of sorts).

“Yeah, yeah—for sure. Thanks.” Jake flashed an acknowledging smile, to which your cheeks heated up at. There was an injured boy in front of you—no time for shits and giggles and teenage elation.

As you aided Jake in removing his shoulder pads and jersey, he winced a bit, while trying to hide it at the same time. 

“Are you good? I’ll get some ice on that soon, I promise.” You gradually eased into your ‘medic’ mode, trying to expel as much of your nerves as humanly possible.

“Yeah I’m okay, just hurts a bit. Thanks again,” he could not stop giving you that demure yet brazen demeanor, and to be around a smiling Jake meant a tense you, regardless if your subconscious plan to initiate Nerves Exodus was kind of working.

When Mina stood up, all finished with undoing his skates and knee pads, she asked Jake to repeat what he stated about his pain earlier to you back to her. Before walking to where the coaches and other players were, she chaffed at you, with a mischievous lilt to her words, “you can handle it from here right? The star player’s in your hands.”

Audibly, you ‘mhmmed’ her, and when you were out of Jake’s sight, rolled your eyes, making sure she noticed that. You were glad though, that Mina was your trainer and not some old, stern fart like she had when she interned in your same position; it made for much more “effective” mentoring and communication, especially because she left you alone with the athletes, so you were able to think of what to do next for yourself, and if there were ever any mistakes—which there were none of to date—she would help you work through them.

Holy shit, Mina left. It was just you and Jake.

[thefanbasewhore]

“You can hold my hand if you want.”

Summary: [Number 45 from the prompt list, "You can hold my hand if you want."] Din's search for a bounty leaves reader tired and unable to keep up with him but Din has an idea that will slow him down. 

Warning/Content: soft fluffy din 🥺 relationship is not established between characters (yet lol) but yeah, Din is a touched starved beskar babe 🪐

Paring: Din Djarin/female reader

click here for my tag list! || Masterlist. 

“Let’s go.” The words catch the static of the hissing vocoder making her eyes shift to him with confusion. The planet they landed on was one she never heard of before somewhere far in the galaxy but none the less looked like any other planet. The Mandalorian had been tracking this bounty for weeks but that’s not was surprising, no man or woman is a matching for him. It’s the fact he pushes the button on his arm and sunlight squints eyes as it lower with a slow hiss. “This planet is a scumhole, I’m not leaving the kid or you here on the ship alone, let’s go, he’s close.”

The fob beeps with flashing red to prove him right. She doesn’t reply just nods an understanding while the child is tucked into the bag that lies across the beskar clad chest. She tries to move but the sudden close proximity of him only inches away from her face makes her freeze, gloves reach for the sling of the bad lifting it over his head to lay it against her shoulders watching the way it forms between the valley of her breast - it’s tempting, hard not to tilt his head when they’re so close but with a deep breath he manages to keep his eyes against hers. “I want him to stay with you. Use your blaster if you have to and if I said run, you run, understand?”

It’s a silent nod, eyes averting his gaze at all costs while it’s not intentional she can’t help how nervous she feels under the gaze of the visor but gloved fingers bump the point of her chin to gently lift to what she guessed is his eyes. “I need to hear you say it. You and the child’s safety comes first.”

“I understand Mando..Shoot anyone that’s not you and run.” Even through the gloves he can feel the softness of smooth skin and wishes he could stay here forever with his fingers pressed against her cheeks but the act is too intimate for just partners. There are so many lonely, sleepless nights Din has to remind himself that it’s not more than that, nothing more then a business deal. 

The sun was bright, temporarily blinding the trio as the reach the threshold of warmth from the outside, the heaviness of his boots already carry on before she can even realize he’s heading towards the woods, taking long strides that still were no match for the Mandalorian. 

By the time they reached civilization the sun started to set over the horizon, a small yawn from the woman a few feet behind him has him turning over his shoulder to see the exhaustion etched across soft features. He stops for a second as he squeezes his first with frustration, it’s aimed towards himself mostly guilt because well he’s been trained his whole life to be a warrior, to be able to endure walking for hours but the woman who doesn’t realize he’s stopped and crashed into the hardness of his back with a soft ‘oof’ isn’t built for such things. 

“Are you...” He turns to face her, eyes shifting from drooping eyes to watch her cross her arms around her chest to rub palms against the bare skin of her arms, goosebumps rising as the body’s attempt to keep internal heat as she feels fingers beginning to numb from the last few hours. “Are you cold?”

Before she can even answer leather gloves reach behind his head to bunch the cape and pull it from the collar and drape it over her shoulders. It’s thick, dirty and torn in some places but was instantly warms the tingling skin.

“Just a few more hours, he’s in town and then we can go back, I know you’re tired.” His hands never leave her shoulders as an attempt to warm the skin, press closer for his body almost flushes against her own shivering body. 

“I’m fine, baby is asleep though. I’ll be right behind you, promise.” He doesn’t like the though of leaving her behind, drifting unprotected behind him all because he didn’t know how to slow down. No matter how much the helmet helped enhance his senses it wasn’t always guaranteed especially with the linger presence of the woman that scrambles his brain, he couldn’t concentrate with her so close.

“Come, I want you in front of me.” She knows the hand against her back doesn’t mean much just a means of a way to direct her towards the front of him. One foot in front of the other, he wonders how someone can be so slow but still manage to be so noisy. It can’t be stopped, the way his chest hits her back with accidental force, long nights of discipline make it almost impossible to not walk over here.

He takes a deep breath, stopping just to give her a few feet to walk before his one stride meets with her again, he let’s out a frustrated huff that makes her turn towards him. “I’m sorry Mando, I’m trying. I don’t -.”

The way her voice falters as her voice drops with frustration to meet his own. Despite not being able to keep up with him, running through the woods for hours with no food or water but still managed to fight against screaming legs and an aching back, he was impressed to say the least, she’s always filled with such an intense fire and he couldn’t help but drift towards it. He wishes she would realize how strong she is, see herself through his eyes. 

Din tenses behind as the words almost fall effortlessly from his lips, “You can hold my hand..if you want too.” 

Cheeks turning red under the helmet and for more times then he can count he’s glad for the shield that separates him from the outside world. It’s starting to get hot, her gaze across his skin heating the nape of his neck, words fumbling out in embarrassment, rejection as moves his extended arms back towards him. “This way I know I’m going to fast.”

One heavy boot touches the ground as his attempt to get as far as possible from the lingering silence. She knows it takes a lot from his to offer this, to say those words and for the moment is too shocked to move. It’s uncharacteristic, the way his fingers touched her chin early, took his own source of heat to wrap it around her shoulders as well as rub the smooth skin of her hands and then offering this. 

Before he could manage to stride ahead, small fingers reach for his forearm to stop him, a small smile makes his heart jump in his chest. He’s thankful they’re still in the wood, no one here to see how ridiculous he looks stiffening with her touch, his throat drying as the hand slides down the whole length of his arm to fill the gaps of his fingers with her own. Din tries not to stare, a heavy haze of tension filling the air.

It’s unspoken but truthfully had been lingering for months but even though it’s not bare skin, it’s intensified and he can’t help but stare at the roundness of her bottom lip as his other hand reaches up to press a thumb against the plumpness, moving closer and closer but stopping with as his helmet bumps against her forehead with a small gasp of pain.

His cheeks are ablaze as he can’t believe he forgot that the helmet was there. Her touch temporarily blinded him, all senses void the only thing that mattered was how beautiful she looked in that moment, tiredness weighing down eyelids, lips swollen from sucking on them. A breath is stuck inside his throat with realization, her own curious gaze lifting to meet his eyes then down to his lips exposing just what he wanted to do. “Kifff, are you alright I didn’t mean-.”

His own words drop as the small fingers press against the coldness of the helm, the decreasing temperature didn’t help the shivering but at the moment she can’t care less. Her head tilts slightly pressing a kiss against the coolness of the beskar right where he lips lie under it. It’s not what he wants but all that can be given in the current predicament. It’s the way unsure eyes roam over the helm looking for any reinsurance but is only met with the coldness of zero emotions but the lingering is so sweet he feels his ears ring, lips twitch with the briefest smile.

He pauses, can’t move due to the way the linger thought of how those lips would feel against his own, against his skin. If this was the feeling he got from just them lingering against his helm he can’t imagine the way his body will explode with goosebumps, he feels something stir deep inside him. He wants to turn around and return to the crest to continue this in the dark, wants to feel his skin flushing hers but he hesitantly pulls his fingers from her cheeks with a shaky sigh.

“Let’s go.” Fingers tighten their hold on his own, pressing his forehead against the heated one in front of him. “Stay close sweet girl, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

tags: @victias , @altarsw, @coonflix, @mudhornchronicles, @buckysalefty, @capsheadquaters, @ilikemymendarkandfictional, @maileecabudol, @mermaidbrina​, @godohammers​, @nikkixostan​, @fangirlmendes