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astroboots · 3 years ago

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Summary: Santiago attends his best friends' wedding.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) x Frankie

Warnings: Formal wear, Polyamorous relationship, masturbation, M/M dynamics, yearning and angst angst angst!

Wordcount: 2,400 words

Homesick Masterlist | Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

Santiago hates formal wear. It makes him feel like a show pony on display. Reminds him of church when his mom would put him in his best Sunday suit and parade them in front of the congregation. Can still smell the sharp sting of the hair gel smothering his tightly combed back hair and feel the constraints of the even tighter tie strangling his throat.

It’s probably why, even now as an adult, he finds himself endlessly fidgeting with the tie whenever he wears a suit.

“Santiago,” your voice pulls him from his thoughts, and when he looks to you, he finds you pointing at your neck.

He reaches up to feel at his own throat and realizes that he's done it again. His bow tie is a mess.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Fix it for me please?”

“Don’t I always?” you answer, putting down the plate of hor d'oeuvres he’d sneaked out for you from catering.

You lean forward and he dutifully tilts back his head, baring his throat to you. Your finger slips over the knot, brushing against his Adams apple, and a pleasant tingle skitters up his spine. His instinct is to loosen the knot again immediately, just so he can have you fix it all over again.

“How’s Frankie,” you ask as you smooth down his shirt.

“Frankie’s okay.”

Your teeth bite down on your lower lip, expression turning worried, and Santi realizes that was probably not the answer you were looking for. “Frankie’s great,” he corrects. “He’s excited.”

Relief spreads across your face at that, and it’s slightly ironic, because he’s had this very same conversation only twenty minutes before. Only last time it was with your husband to be.

Frankie had been standing in front of the mirror, the white crisp of his shirt fitting perfectly over his torso, and for a moment Santi had marvelled over how good Frankie cleans up when he’s not wearing weird flannels and worn out corduroy jackets.

“How is she?” he’d asked, fingers agitated as they fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt."

“What do you mean?”

“Is she nervous?”

“Why would she be nervous?”

Frankie had bitten down on his lower lip, much the same way you did. Worry and bundled up nerves plain in his big brown eyes.

“Does she—,” he hesitated as if he didn’t quite know what he wanted to ask, until he finally spoke again. “Did she look happy?”

The unspoken question had almost seemed to be, does she still want to marry me? The implication had stunned Santi, unsure of what to answer. Unsure of why Frankie would think you would be anything but thrilled. Still, he gave the only answer he could.

“Yeah Frank, she’s really happy.”

He still doesn’t quite understand why it had felt like pulling out his own damn teeth to admit such a simple truth.

“Santiago, you’ve messed it up again,” you say, and the sting of your words whips him back to the present moment.

For a second, his back prickles with anxiety, not entirely sure what you’re referring to, but all he sees before him is the image of Frankie, nervously pacing in front of the mirror.

His jaw drops, mouth gaping, he’s not sure if he’s trying to find an excuse or an explanation, but before he utters a word, you’re already leaning forward.

“You need to stop fidgeting with the bowtie,” you scold. Your fingers brush against his bare throat while tightening the bowtie and the familiar pleasant tingle that accompanies the contact returns, the same as it has each time you’ve reached over to fix it. It spreads to the end of his fingers making him flex them against his side.

He feels almost drowsy with contentment, eyes in danger of drooping shut until they accidentally make contact with Will, who’s tilting his head at Santi with a curious expression. Santi doesn’t understand quite why, but he feels like he’s been caught shoplifting in a candy shop, but before he can pull away you tap his chest to let him know that you’re done.

There’s a sharp voice calling for you and when the two of you look up to the doorframe, Molly is standing there impatiently. “Break’s over. Last touch up for make-up before it’s showtime, hon.”

“Ok I have to head back in there,” you say. You slip off his suit jacket from your shoulders and hand it back to him. The delicate white lace of your wedding dress in full view as you stand up.

The realisation strikes him that this might be the last time he sees you before you become Mrs Morales.

“Thanks, cariño,” he murmurs quietly.

You tilt your head at him, giving him a strange puzzled look. “For what?”

Santi isn’t entirely sure himself. Partly it’s for fixing his bowtie, partly it’s for always looking after him. But mostly, the only thing Santiago can think of is this, “for everything, sweetheart.”

The rest of the day is a blur of alcohol and champagne. Sparkling bubbles, and joys and blessings that fill his veins and make them burn hot. Santi loses count after the first couple of dozen glasses. All he knows is that he’s liquored up and loose.

And everytime a waiter would refill his glass, Will would lean back in his chair, that scrutinizing look that almost feels like judgment. “You okay man?”

And of course he’s okay. His best friend just married his other best friend, what is there not to be okay about?

Except in the quietness of his big hotel room, when the happy laughter, loud conversation and music has died down, okay starts to slip away from him.

The emptiness that drips in his chest seems anything but okay. He puts it down to post-crash party excitement. He’s just tired, slightly buzzed and jetlagged.

Reaching for the remote, he surfs the channel just to have some white noise in the background. There’s car commercials, reruns of CSI and some bad telenovela that he skims through, and then finally there’s moaning and groaning as the hotel TV screen is filled with an image of a man and a woman in a hotel room not unlike his own going at it like rabbits.

And Christ, shouldn’t there be some kind of parental lock for the porn channels? He imagines there’s going to be angered parents jumping on hotel.com by tomorrow morning about how their little Jack has been sitting up all night watching porn.

Bad porn. Oh god, this is bad. Santi almost wants to laugh at how bad it is as the man on screen thrusts into the poor woman from behind and bends her over the mattress, contorting her at an incredibly awkward position that cannot possibly be comfortable. He’s not sure how this is supposed to be sexy. Whatever is taking place in front of him on screen reminds him more of a yoga instruction lesson than a sex scene.

Santi scrolls through his phone, absentmindedly, as the porno runs in the background. Alcohol still buzzing warm in his blood.

He glances up every now and then with half interest. As cringe-worthy as the scene was, the girl is very pretty and at a certain angle, reminds him of someone, though he can’t put his finger on who.

There’s a stirring of interest in his cock as he starts to harden. And fuck it, why not, it’ll relax him and help him fall asleep if nothing else. His hands slip under his dress pants, wrapping around his hardening cock. The familiar touch of his own hand sends a sharp thrill up his neck and he feels his cock twitch in his hand at the grip.

In front of him, the woman is on her knees, the camera from the side as she closes her eyes and wraps her lips around the man’s cock. Santi closes his eyes, letting the same scene in front of him play out behind his eyelids, soft, warm eyes and plush lips wrapped around his cock as she gazes up at him. Then he realizes exactly who she reminds him of— you. And oh fuck, no that’s so wrong.

His eyes slam open. He turns off the TV, flinging the remote across the bed.

What the fuck is wrong with him.

With a weary sigh, he drops down against the much too soft mattress. Alcohol is what’s wrong with him. He’s had a lot to drink, and while Santi isn’t the faint of heart with drinks and can usually handle his own, he’d gone most of the day running back and forth between you and Frankie with little food to settle his stomach before he drank the alcohol consumption of a small village.

So yeah, he’s drunk— and yes, he’s a little bit horny. Normally at weddings, when he wasn’t the best man, and had duties he needed to fulfill, he’d be charming a cute bridesmaid to join him in his hotel room after.

This was not in the cards for him tonight.

He hardly had time to even eye any of the pretty bridesmaids, occupied as he was by the two of you. Watching the two of you as you had your first dance, running over the dance steps in his head just like you and him had practised beforehand in the hallway the night before to make sure you got it right (because you have two left feet for dancing). Watching Frankie’s soft, awestruck smile as you definitely stepped on the man’s foot when you took the wrong step, but he still looked at you hopelessly in love.

And really he’s happy for you. Happy for you both. Because you both deserve this. You’re his best friend and you deserve nothing less than to have the best man in the world, and the best man in the world, without a single doubt in his mind is Francisco Morales. Strong, capable, the most competent and kind man that Santi has ever known. If there was ever someone deserving of you, it was him.

You deserve to have Frankie take you to your honeymoon suite tonight. With his befitted suit, neatly combed hair and those broad arms carrying you over the threshold, while you’re both giggling and falling over yourself and barely make it into bed. To have him look up at you just like he did on the dance floor, like you’ve hung the damn moon on the night sky outside.

Santi turns and tosses on the mattress, restlessness bleeding into his chest with sleep nowhere nearby to claim him. Instead all he can do is run the events of today over and over again.

How comically nervous Frankie had been when he had gotten dressed. Poor man was so out of his depth, never one for formal wear. He’d been constantly pulling and tugging at his white shirt, making sure it wasn’t wrinkled. Fiddling and checking the cufflinks over and over like they were going to fall out. Constantly asking Santiago if he ‘looked okay?’

Which was ridiculously really, okay, was not the word Santi would have described it. Frankie had looked damned good tonight.

Muscular and broad, with that shy awkward smile. Something flutters in Santi’s stomach at the memory of it, as Frankie ran his hands over the locks of brown hair, mussing up what was neatly combed until Molly scolded him to leave it be.

Santi thinks of those same nervous hands, and how sturdy and competent they can be when they need to.

Looking up at the bland white ceiling, Santi can’t help but wonder if the two of you are in your hotel suite right now. If Frankie’s helping you take off those uncomfortable high heels, gently unclasping it. Helping you take off that beautiful white dress you'd worn today. Large hands, skirting over the delicate lace. Fingers, teasing open the ridiculously tiny buttons that are lining the length of your spine in the back. Frankie would be patient, delicate, so careful not to rip any of them open as he slips the dress off your back.

He wonders if those sturdy, gentle hands would be gently kneading at your ribs, rubbing out the soreness that you had complained to Santi about earlier in the day, because that damned dress had been tight and uncomfortable.

If he did, would you moan?

In his imagination, it’s nothing like the porno, can’t even begin to imagine that you would moan in such a theatrical way. No, it’d probably be soft and keen, in a way that as well as Santi knows you, he has never heard.

And fuck, electricity spikes through his abdomen, as his hand squeezes tight around his cock, strokes the length of it with a broken moan erupting from his throat. He doesn’t even recall doing it, doesn’t recall slipping his hand down his trousers again. Doesn’t recall the first or second stroke, but all he can think of now is how good it feels. How sticky and wet his cock already is, and just how worked up he is.

This is wrong.

It’s not right to think of your best friends this way. To think of you on your knees, in front of your husband, with adoring eyes as you wrap your lips around his cock, lavishing it with attention.

Not right to think of himself right there in the room with the two of you, as he kisses your bare neck, and encourages you to take Frankie deeper, the warmth of your body molded against his own.

But Santi is drunk. He’s had a lot to drink. It’s how he justifies it to himself as he keeps rocking his hips into his fist. He’s heedy and drunk on the sensation, ignoring guilt and common sense as his thighs tense and flex at each downstroke while he fucks his own hand.

It doesn’t take long at all, half-sloppy strokes as his cock draws tight and he feels his orgasm building in his stomach. It’s impatient and fast, because fuck, Santi doesn’t want to make it last long enough for him to fully admit to what he’s doing right now. The warmth of it spreads from the curl of his toes up to his chest, and he doesn’t stop, keeps stroking himself in fast, jerky movements, as it all comes down on him. When he comes, it’s with your name on his tongue and Frankie’s face behind his eyelids.

It’s all so fucking wrong. Nothing feels right anymore. This is not okay. And worst of all, you aren’t here to help him fix his mess anymore.

A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience so sorry about yesterday's insanity and tumblr fuck up. Basically everything that could go wrong did go wrong with the post and I just threw my hands up in the air and gave up and deleted to try again.

Dedications: For my favourite and most beloved Brainiac, who requested this prompt. Nothing inspires me more than when you shout FUCK YOU CiCi!!!! into my WIPs. I enjoy and treasure all our conversations—talking about every topic under the sun— so dearly.

And last but never the least, my most beloved clown sister @thirstworldproblemss for whom this whole damn series is dedicated to!

#cici writes #pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader x santiago garcia #santi x reader x frankie #oscar isaac #santiago garcia #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #homecoming

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ssplague · 3 years ago

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Chapter Two

A rough start we get off too

Series Masterlist

Katsuki B. X Reader

Rated M

⚠️Warnings: SMUT, improper use/depiction of certain kinks, abusive, manipulative, toxic behavior, unreal ideals of sex, use of daddy, ddlg themes, hard Dom, etc.

Let the SMUT commence

The way each pair of lips fit so perfectly together was absolutely enthralling: Passion was raw, ferocity was made so obviously evident from the growl he emitted at each attempt you made at sucking his tounge into your mouth. Only separating to take in a few large gulps of much needed oxygen, before diving back in to repeat the process over again.

“Please….P-Pleaseee…Kat..Suki…I-“ he presses a finger to your lips. That brief period of oxygen deprivation seemed to of induced a delirium of sorts. Assessing your thoughts has become similar to sifting through wet sand; Try as you might, you just can’t seem to comprehend what exactly you’d been attempting to beg him for in the first place. This look of empty headed confusion is also something Bakugou commits to memory, a first glimpse of his dumb little girl. He surveys you with bemused interest, looking as composed as ever.

“Down that bad for me hah? All I did was kiss ya a little and you’re already falling to pieces on me” the finger on your lips slides down to tilt your chin up, while he dips his head down to whisper in your ear. “Cant even imagine what kinda mess you’ll become once I finally split cha open with this big cock, such a stupid little girl”.

You suck in a deep shuddering breath as your legs suddenly give out beneath you, leaving you helplessly sliding down the wall. Bakugou laughs in such a condescending baritone as he effortlessly picks you up and deposits you on his bed. Picking his chair back up, he moves it beside the bed to take a seat in front of you.

“Listen real close to what I’m about to tell ya cause its important, open those fuckin’ ears princess cause if I end up havin’ to constantly keep repeatin’ myself…” he leaves the implicated threat hanging in the air between you two. Swallowing what remains of your now virtually non existent pride: You sit up straight and lean forward slightly, making sure to hold eye contact while he spoke. As the one sided conversation progresses and you inevitably begin to feel the need to either scoff or mouth off, you lightly bite your tounge. When the need to roll your eyes seems irresistible you make sure to blink a few times.

Bakugou and his ego always seem to have a way of destroying any sort of illusion that he is anything other than a self-righteous narcissist. Well, now he’s YOUR self-righteous narcissist…CORRECTION; You cant think like that anymore….from now on he’s….daddy.

The thought accompanies a brief pang in your metaphorical gut, is it regret? Maybe guilt? You aren’t sure.

“-Last ones, your still paying attention right princess?”.

Hearing his question has your eyes immediately snapping back into focus. You take in the handsome (but grumpy) face in front of you, nervously wondering when exactly he’d invaded your personal space.

“Y-Yes daddy, I’m listening to you” you stutter slightly, now noticing he’s actually kneeling on the mattress with you.

“So every day I expect you to do your absolute best” now with each statement he leans further into you, “You’re always going to remember how much daddy cares about you”. He presses a large hand against your chest, forcing your back down against the pillows behind you. “Realize that daddy always knows what’s best for you” both hands now rest on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

“You’ll always know that you can rely on daddy, and will trust him one hundred percent of the time”.

The intensity of his crimson stare has your face burning up, and heart rapidly pounding in your chest. It’s now taking a serious amount of conscious effort to keep your eyes locked with his. “Any questions? Comments?…..concerns?” he puts an emphasis on that last word, wolffish grin firmly in place.

Shaking your head apparently wasn’t a good enough answer because its followed with a stern; “Use your words princess, you either say: Yes daddy or No daddy….understood?”.

“I understand daddy….I’ll follow your rules daddy” you reply, embarrassment evident at having to repeat the unfamiliar word.

“You sure? It’s not like you to have absolutely nothing to say” he’s testing you, you’ll play into it this time.

“Well if you insist…..I do have a question, just one” at this his eyes instantly narrow and you could have sworn you’d seen a few stray sparks emit from his palms.

“Would it be too much to ask daddy if he wouldn’t mind kissing me again?”

🌆

Euphie checks her phone for the eigth time since she’d last texted you over forty-five minutes ago. Why weren’t you responding? Maybe she really had pushed you too far this time….A large hand comes to rest over her much smaller one, at this she finally sets her phone facedown on the table with a sigh.

“She wont stay angry with you forever, her and Bakubro might be having such a good time together that she’s forgotten all about her phone” Kirishima tries his best to reassure with his usual smile. The sudden wide eyed, dead pan stare he gets in return whipes that smile from his now reddening face. He’s realized far too late at what his words seem to of implied.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Really! I promise I didn’t! M’sorry”. Seeing the red head this flustered is so adorable, his companion cant help but giggle.

“I know Eji, dont worry about it”.

Entrusting your care to Bakugou was fine: He cares about you almost as much as she herself does. If she wasn’t certain how genuine the boy’s feelings toward you were, none of this would ever have happened.

Yeah, everything is going to be just fine….You’ll thank her one day.

💥

Bakugou’s crimson gaze is way too intense while roaming over the female laying down on his bed. Having her completely bare, and spread out before him is an accomplishment he shamelessly contragulates himself for. She’s getting self conscious now: Delicate hands come up to cover her chest, and plush thighs press together in an attempt to hide the drooling mess kept between them. It’s all or naught though as her legs are suddenly wrenched apart, and each wrist is now pinned above her head, held in just a single one of his hands.

“Nu-uh princess, no hiding….keep those legs open…wanna see all of you” condescending words only seem to widen his feral grin.

Seeing his cock now freed from its previously strained confinements as its looms above you, standing tall, has your leaky little hole twitching. The smooth inner walls inside repeatedly clenching in anticipation. Bakugou trails a finger from clit to slit as he hums in approval.

“What’s this hah? Such a fuckin’ mess your makin’ down here”

“S-Sorry daddy…I cant help it…Just want you so bad…dont wanna wait any longer…Please dont make me wait more” a soft roll of your hips accompanies your pleading whines. Your continuous begging for his cock has that monster stirring in him again, he has to forcibly push the dark thoughts away before addressing you again.

“If I dont prep you then-“ you interrupt him.

“It’s fine! I can take it, please just take me…” he notices your moment of hesitation before you lock eyes with him while adding “make it hurt”.

You’re just so fucking bold!

Trying to make demands, disguised as requests! Its so cute he cant help but caress your cheek before bestowing upon you the last gentle kiss you’ll get until he’s throughly DESTROYED you for anyone else.

“Dont ever fucking tell me what to do again” he growls before slamming his hips forward.

He’s buried balls deep inside you: Your initial gasp at the sudden intrusion, now morphs into a silent scream that has a you arching up off the mattress.

“Got that you greedy little slut? See what happens?” He taunts through gritted teeth.

Your cunt squeezing and spasming around his cock feels incredible, to the point he has to busy himself with sucking harshly on your neck to keep from releasing desperate whimpers of his own.

“I can take it…please move….m’sorry daddy…please don’ be mad a’me….”

“M’not mad at you baby….s’okay” He manages to reassure you through his clenched jaw. He finally starts to move inside of you, desperately trying so hard to take it easy on you. All precedent falls apart when your legs wrap around his waist, now he’s digging you out.

“Y’okay?” He rasps while continuously ravaging your tight cunt.

“M-mm-more than okay” you stutter.

“Taking my cock so well baby girl….Fucking hell!” His lewd compliment causing your insides to involuntarily clench.

“Deeper! Deeper!” You plead.

Katsuki thought you’d preferred his shallow thrusts, but if you really wanted your guts rearranged he’d be pleased to make it happen. He grabs one of your legs, placing it up on his broad shoulder, while the other remains curled around his hip. Straightening up he smirks down at you, before delivering a harsh slap to your clit. Now beginning to rapidly piston his hips while taunting you: “What did I tell you earlier hah? Answer me dammit!”.

His hot hand comes down on your inner thigh and you cry out: “N-Not supposed t-to tell y-you what to d-do!”. It shouldn’t be possible for you to be squeezing him even tighter, but somehow you do. That can mean only one thing… “Gonna cum aren’t you princess? I can feel ya choking the life outta my cock”.

A pathetic whine accompanies your vigorous head nods and he growls in response: “You.better.fucking.not” a thrust accompanying each word, “Y’dont fuckin’ listen, shouldn’t let ya cum at all with how you keep misbehavin’, better start fuckin’ beggin”.

Horrified at the thought, you fight through the fog permeating your brain and force movement out of your lolling tounge.

“P-please daddy, I’ll b-be good from now on if y-you’ll just let me c-cum! Y-you’re just making me feel so good daddy, no one’s ever made me feel this i-incredible before” your panting breaths making it too difficult to continue speaking. Even if he doesn’t believe it, your words are entirely true, this is the first time you can ever recall feeling like this during sex. A foreign sensation is making its way into your gut, your limbs are moving of their own accord, you cant think straight when you manage to speak next: “Its too much! Too big, Too deep, Too intense! I c-cant take anymore please make it stop!”.

“Stop? Oh fuck no princess, after all this lip you’ve been giving me, you think I’m gonna let you tap out like a little bitch? Think again” his thumb begins to rub harsh circles against your clit. “We’re not stopping until you cream all over my cock like a nasty girl like you is supposed to, then you’re gonna do it again when I blow my load inside this tight fucking cunt and you’ll scream my name while I fucking do it because this pussy is all mine! Got all that you fucking whore?”.

“Yes daddy” you whimper, face screwed up in tight concentration as he finally pushes you over the edge. Your eyes fly open as you blindly search for his hand, gripping it tightly in attempts to anchor yourself in reality as a sudden rush of dopamine floods your brain. White hot pleasure seemingly overwhelming every single nerve in your body, making your legs shiver as you faintly hear yourself calling out his name repeatedly. Katsuki is the only thing you know in this strange foreign place: This comforting warmth suddenly invades your tummy, continuously being pumped inside you while you moan at the newfound sensation.

A pair of strong arms wind themselves around you, pulling you closer, making you feel safe, at ease, loved?

“Come…back…..come back to me” he’s calling for you. Your soul had to of vacated your body; You feel Weightless, you’re floating, “Daddy?”. Suddenly you start sinking, and without warning your body jolts, “Katsuki?!”.

“M’right here princess, daddy’s got you….Disappeared on me for a lil while” his familiar voice is grounding. His fingers card gently through your hair, and for the very first time you’re seeing a “Soft” side to this so easily angered man. Sighing contentedly you snuggle into his chest, letting his caramel scented sweat overwhelm your senses.

“I really like this”

“Hah?! That’s all you have to say?!”

Ah there he goes, moment ruined, illusion shattered.

“I’m sorry. But I’m not entirely coherent just yet…you uh…you kinda did a number on me there” you mutter sheepishly, making an attempt to escape his embrace. Its immediately thwarted, and your pulled right back against his chest. “Ah fuck…knew I shoulda just made you wait and prepped you properly….Sorry about that, guess I just got caught up in everything”. Surely hell has frozen over: Katsuki Bakugou just not only admitted a possible wrong doing, but APOLGIZED for it as well!

“Ive wanted to do this with you for so long: Fuck you, hold you, be with you, and I fucked it up! Just like I always seem to fucking do, I-“

“Daddy” your voice effectively silences his self-depreciating rant. His hand begins to gently run up and down your back as he mumbles a “Yes princess?”.

You lean back slightly, tilting your head up so those cute doe eyes can stare up into his, the smile your wearing makes his chest tighten.

“M’not hurt, sore but not damaged….I wasn’t referring to my body, I meant you did a number on my mind…Besides I asked for it remember? I’ve wanted this for a long time too, so I got impatient…Please dont berate yourself, lets just enjoy this moment as the first of many now…Kay?”.

That’s right, you’re his now; Along with the opportunity to care for and make sure to correct you…he’ll be able to do this with you again. You had given yourself to him after all, so he can have you as many times as he wants, whenever he wants! He’s far too occupied with his lewd thoughts to care about the foreboding darkness thats begun to emerge from its confines within his skull.

You don’t remember falling asleep but Katsuki gently prods you awake: “Baby…wake up, Its dinner time…I made food for us…c’mon princess you need to eat”.

You whine, attempting to burrow further beneath the blankets, “Not hungryyyy...wanna sleep more!”.

“Dont make daddy ask you again, you wont like what happens”.

Not interested in ruining such a wonderful night, you begrudgingly sit up. Noticing he’s seated at his desk, with a large steaming bowl set infront of him. You slide out of bed, standing up and realizing you’re naked, but strangely not embarrassed by it.

“Here” he tosses you a shirt, “Now c’mere, hurry up before it gets cold!”. Pulling his shirt over your head as you pad over to him and take a seat on his lap. Noticing the single spoon and bowl has you looking at him with genuine curiosity. “Since you like actin like a damn baby so much, figured I’d continue treatin’ you like one” his words make you grin sheepishly again, and you hold out your hand expectantly waiting for him to hand you the spoon….he doesn’t.

Taking an impressive spoonful of the steaming food he then proceeds to blow on it before bringing it up to your lips.

“Say ahh, brat”.

“Wha-?”

Taking advantage of the opportunity, he shoves the spoon into your open mouth. Of course it tastes amazing, but he doesn’t plan on keeping this up right? WRONG!

Repeating the pattern of giving you a bite and then taking one himself.

“I can feed myself y’know…” you mutter growing increasingly flustered at the insulting action but more so the fact that its making you feel….excited?

“I dont think you can princess….I always hear Euphie bitchin at ya for skipping breakfast or to hurry up and come eat dinner” pausing to feed himself, then repositioning the now loaded spoon back infront of you before continuing.

“That shit ends today, gonna teach ya how important it is to take care of yourself, and if you wont? Then I guess daddy will have to do it for ya”.

You’re squirming in his lap by the time you accept the last bite,swallowing thickly before making an attempt at vaulting off his lap. Large hands immediately snag you around the middle before your feet even touch the ground.

“No, No, thats not how we do things around here, where the fuck are your manners?” he slips a hand between your clenched thighs to move them apart, and then brings a slap down to the inside of each. You dont even know why he’d done that and the shock is evident on your face. “You like when I baby ya, dont lie to me LITTLE girl”.

“No I-“

“What’s this then?” he quickly interupts while holding up the palm he’d previously slapped you with. Glimmering in the low light is your sticky arousal coating his palm.

“Sorry” your voice is barely audible as you hang your head in shame.

“Mhm sure you are…Here I am being a good care taker to you and what did you do? Sat there thinking all kinds of nasty things while I spoon feed you, you really are a fuckin depraved slut aren’t you princess?”

You bite your lip as your eyes start to water,still refusing to look up and far too embarrassed to respond. A finger beneath your chin forces your head up and his breath hitches when he notices tears getting ready to fall. A malicious smile now turns his lips upward as he cups your cheek, “Look at that…shes about to start crying and all because of what? Cuz you just exposed yourself for being the depraved little slut you are?”.

“NO! No im not I-“.

“You are” his grip tightens painfully on your jaw, pulling your face forward so its now just an inch away from his own, “And I fuckin’ love it”. Then he’s surging forward pressing his lips against yours; Forcing his tongue into your mouth, hand coming around to grip the back of your head. Your lungs are on fire while his hand slips under your shirt to harshly grope at your chest. Clawing his forearms is finally enough to get his attention and he reluctantly pulls away. You’ve just barely began catching your breath when he suddenly stands up, keeping a firm grip on your ass to carry you, before dropping you onto the bed.

“Take that off and-“

*knock knock knock*

The sudden knocking followed abruptly by Kirishima’s muffled shouting, startles both you and Katsuki, and the rattling door knob has you immediately springing into action.

“Hey we brought back desert to share with you guys! So just meet us at my room whenever you feel like it, Euphie’s changing her clothes and then she’ll be there too, we’re gonna watch a movie if you two wanna join us!”.

He must have heard Bakugou’s standard non-committal grunt in response, because you hear his retreating footsteps trail off down the hall.

Grabbing your skirt out from underneath the bed, you stand back up.

Just as you’d gotten to your feet your immediately pushed face first onto the mattress. A sweaty hand takes hold of your hip in a bruising grip, while the other delivers a sharp pinch to your ass cheek. Yelping in response to the sudden harsh yank of your hair that proceeds a whisper of:

“You didn’t really think I would let you off that easy did you? Your fuckin’ cake can wait brat, we’re done when I fuckin say we are, got it?”.

✨

A/N: I hope this chapter was to everyone’s liking, I’m actually kind of nervous to post it but 🤷🏼‍♀️ Chapter 3 has a fair amount of smut in it as well so look forward to that. I’m hoping to get another one shot up for “A man of his word” this week, if you like extreme Yandere Bakugou check that out. I have one penned but it needs to be typed up.

#bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #daddy bakugou #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #bnha smut #katsuki bakugo #Katsuki bakugou #dom bakugou

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writertothemaximum · 3 years ago

Text

Chiaki x Reader

Summary: Chiaki thinks you're tying rope for a stunt. You have different plans.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/Content: nsfw/18+, Bondage, footjob, sub!Chiaki, dom!reader

Notes: This was actually the first Enstars fic I ever wrote, so it's a bit sentimental for me! This is a bit revised from the Ao3 version, so thank you for reading!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045316/chapters/57859750

“Ah, there you are! Chiaki Morisawa at the ready! What did you need help with?”

Chiaki barreled confidently into the small practice room you asked him to meet you in. It was long after work, but it wasn’t odd of a producer to ask to meet with one of their idols. After all, you were the one who helped rewrite all of Ryuusetai’s Live plans. They always were impossible to carry out, but there was an unhindered energy that made you adore the passion behind it all. Chiaki really was childish in many ways.

“Get over here,” you said, waving at him to come over.

He walked over with a big smile, blinking innocently at whatever you would ask him. He’d never suspect anything from you. Chiaki wasn’t like that.

“A rope? Are we practicing stunt work?” he asked.

“Turn around," you said, commanding.

“Got it!” he said, flipping around in an instant.

Looking at his arms, you could immediately see how built he was. There was a sort of thinness to the way his biceps were shaped, something so discreetly masculine in the shape of the bone, yet not muscular enough to suggest body-building. No, there was a sort of lightness that made his body just a little too small for his frame, a little too underbuilt, a little soft under the strong bones and broad shoulders. Something frail under what seemed to be strength.

It made you think about Chiaki and if that reflected his personality in some way. If maybe at some point he decided to put on the facade of a hero and it blended in with his person at some point. Maybe the face became the mask at some point. Maybe then there would be no point in thinking about it, as it would make no difference if it was faked or not.

A part of you wondered if that Chiaki was still there. Maybe that’s what drove you to do this. Maybe it was the broad shoulders. It didn’t really matter.

You tied the knots so his arms were stretched out firmly behind his back and the rope all connected nicely like a spiderweb behind his back. His shoulder blades puckered out a bit and it looked a little uncomfortable.

“Wow, you’re, uh, really tying this a little tight," he said.

You laughed a little.

“Yes, we have to make sure it’s on securely," you said, confirming.

He turned his head to look at you and his eyes lit up.

“Oh! Is it for a stunt? That would be kinda exciting!” he said, excitedly.

Checking the last knot for just enough give to let him wiggle around a bit, you decided that your work was well done and that rope looked wonderful on Chiaki.

“Alright, now we got to get your legs," you said, continuing.

He turned around at that.

“My legs?” he said, a little hesitant. “This is a really involved staging we’re going to have, huh.”

“That’s right,” you nodded, completely ignoring to correct him. “Get on your stomach.”

He paused before pushing himself onto the ground with his knees. It wouldn’t surprise you to have seen him go down for a push-up if it weren’t for his arms having been locked straight behind his back. He lied down and looked up and you with a short smile, legs curled up onto his thighs.

“Is this good?” he asked.

“It’s perfect, Morisawa-senpai," you said, with a soft grin.

That nickname always gave him a big cheery smile.

“Alright, be still,” you said, calmly.

“Okay~”

Making big motions around his thighs and ankles, you tied his legs up firmly above his body. You could feel his body tense up every time your hands got near him. It made you a little sad to think that no one really touched him this closely before.

Once you pulled away, you could see his whole body trying to get used to the sensation of being tied up. You could see him push on the rope, trying to break it. He was laughing a bit, as if this was all some fun game you were putting on.

After a while of pushing and pulling on it, Chiaki began to realize that nothing was happening. His bright laugh began to waver and he chuckled awkwardly.

“So, are they supposed to break now?” he asked.

“Why would I tie them so that they’d break?” you responded.

“Well, aren’t I supposed to break out and save the day? That kind of thing?” he said.

You weren’t responding.

“No?” he asked.

You were just staring at him.

“A-Are you going to let me out?” he asked, more desperate.

Nothing. You didn’t have to say anything to get what you wanted.

“T-The knots come out, right?”

He started wiggling around on the ground, finally realizing that he couldn’t really move. He twisted his neck around, the one part of his body that was free.

“P-Please let me out.”

Nothing.

“P-Producer, please, I’m uncomfortable.”

He was breaking. The facade was breaking.

His expression was desperate, he was pleading. The hero was on his front, begging to be let out. How pathetic, how disgraceful.

You could see the sweat begin to form on his forehead as panic began to set in. How the rope would begin to feel tighter than it was. How you forget that you can wiggle around. How you can forget that you can speak and that you can form words other than begging dribbles.

You bent down and grabbed his arm, tossing him around.

The look on his face was absolutely delightful. He didn’t want to look at you in the eyes. He didn’t want you to look at him as the hero who failed from his own flaws. From his own gullibility. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...Please let me out. Please.”

His voice was wavering—Shaky, almost.

"You're hard," you said, smiling at the tent in his pants.

"I-I am not, um," Chiaki said, stumbling. "Hard..."

You leaned down, close to his face, right against his ear.

"Do you want some help with that?" you asked.

Chiaki blushed. A deeper red than any hero of red could be.

"I uh," he said. "Do whatever you think would, uh. You know..."

When you took your shoe off and put your foot on his crotch he half about squealed. You pushed down and his whole face clenched, a tear striking down his cheek. He was getting hard rather easily. Maybe the hero was a little masochistic.

You saw him bite his lip as what sounded like a moan came out of his mouth. His face was stark red and he was trying not to look at you. Trying not to accept that he liked this. Trying not to in any way dissuade you from what you were doing—Because what you were doing felt very good.

You pushed against the front of his pants lightly, feeling the push of flesh against the front of your toe, pulsing back at you. It was really warm there, especially more so than the rest of his body. You could feel it growing under you, you could hear Chiaki doing his best to stop anything from coming out of his mouth. It was a really sensitive part of the body, so you pushed against it with care.

He was bucking his hips against your foot. His face was a mess. He was covered in sweat. It was a great look for our wonderful Hero of Justice. A really beautiful look all tied up writhing on the floor with your foot pressed up against his dick.

You rubbed up and down, feeling his body moving with you, feeling his body relax as he accepted the position he was in.

On the ground, unable to move.

His whole body shuttered.

It was a really sensitive part of the body.

“Uh-uh-um, y-you can stop...I…”

You held your foot static against him.

“You came?” you asked.

He laughed much like how he did earlier. A little awkwardly. A view into the most real Chiaki.

“Y-Yeah," he said.

You laughed back, just as earnestly.

“Alright, let me get you out," you said.

You bent down, flipping him over again onto his stomach. It mustn’t have been very comfortable considering he just creamed himself.

You tied the knots specifically in a way so that they would be impossible to break out of from the wearer, but easy to untie from the outside. You figured he might want to try it again.

When the last knot came undone, he spread his limbs as far as they could go, stretching his body out completely, finally free of any restraint.

“Do you want a bento tomorrow for lunch?” you asked.

He sprung up immediately at your words. Back to another Chiaki. They were all just different parts of him.

“Homemade bento box! Of course! I’d love to!” he said, a big smile plastered across his face.

“Call it my apology gift," you said, chuckling.

A fat blush struck right across Chiaki’s face.

“Y-You don’t need to apologize. Not for that," he said.

Different parts of him.

You poked his cheek and you knew it must have burned.

“So you liked it, didn’t you!” you said at him.

He sprung up off the ground, finally the spring back to his step.

“Alright! Onto the next class!” he said, trying his best to ignore you.

“You graduated last year. Plus, you creamed yourself," you said, pointing down at the massive wet spot in his pants.

He pointed at you dramatically.

“That was your fault, Producer-san!” he shouted, despite having a big smile on his face.

Chiaki charged to tackle you, laughing the whole way.

Just as the Chiaki before it, there was plenty of Chiaki to be appreciative of.

#enstars #enstars x reader #chiaki morisawa #chiaki x reader #sub!chiaki #dom!reader #w2tmfics

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thedevilsdom · 4 years ago

Text

should’ve behaved

Mammon’s usually such a good boy! It’s a shame that he’s gotta make a mistake at some point or another

A request for MC/Mammon with vibrators, punishment, overstim, and aftercare. Technically Male MC but it doesn’t really come up

~1.9k words

Mammon had been a bad boy.

He usually does his best to be your good boy, wanting nothing more than to please you and earn your rewards and praise, but you’d just been edging him for so long! What else was he supposed to do? His hands had zipped down from where he kept them behind his back to his dick so he could finish himself off, and the very second his orgasmic high left him, he felt the dread set in instead.

His eyes are wide as he looks down between his cum covered fingers and up at you. You’ve got a stern look on your face that lets him know what’s in store for him and he shivers in anticipation and fear.

“Hm.” You cross your arms and he whimpers. He knows that you’d never be unnecessarily cruel to him, you’d never hurt him to the point where he’d be questioning if you still love him, but he’s well aware that there’s going to be at least some punishment.

“-M sorry,” He shrinks under your gaze.

“I know you are, I know,” You pet his hair. “Lay down on the floor, on your tummy.”

There’s a thud as he drops down on his knees and immediately positions himself on the tiled floor just as you want him. You kneel down and position him, moving his body until he’s laid half on his side and half on his front, with one leg bent to keep him like that. His still hard cock is resting on the smooth floor, drooling precum. You leave for a second to grab what you’ll need, speaking as you come back.

“Tell me everything you did wrong, pup.”

“I- ah- I moved my hands from where they were supposed to be,” He says. With that you slide a cock ring down his length. “I touched myself without your permission.” You put a pair of nipple clamps on him, relishing his little yelp. “And I c-came without your permission.” With that final confession, you spread his ass cheeks and push a lubed up vibrator into his hole.

“Nice and honest, puppy.” You give him a little spank and you slowly stroke down his back. “Just for that I won’t be too rough. Okay?”

“Yes, Master.” His heated body is trembling. If he had a tail it’d be between his legs.

“Good.” The vibe in his ass gets powered on first, then the vibrating ring around his cock, then you sit cross legged in front of him so you can reach forward to the thin chain that connects the nipple clamps. His watery eyes can’t help but look between your legs as you sit, and he’s grateful that this display is having at least some effect on you.

The vibrations start out weak, but in just a couple seconds you ramp them up and he’s suddenly very aware of how oversensitive he still is from having just cum earlier. His eyes go wide and he yelps, trying to squirm away, but you keep holding the clamps’ chain, keeping him where he is. As he writhes, his slick cock slides against the tiles, the cool pressure only feeling overwhelming on his hot skin, and the vibrator in his ass keeps brushing against his prostate.

“Mas-ah!” Tears already start to brim in his eyes. He can’t stop his body from trying to move away from the sensation, but it only makes you tug on the nipple clamps and his cock move against the tiles. “Oh fuck fuck fuck!”

“What, pup? Don’t like it?” You give the clamps another harsh tug. “You shouldn’t have been naughty. You knew what you were doing was wrong and you still did it. This is your punishment, so take it.” As mean and cold as your words are, you know he’s got the safeword, and you would stop the instant it’s said. Yet, he doesn’t say it, so you continue.

“It’s so much,” He squeaks, interrupted by whines and whimpers. “Ple-please, need- need you-“ His head feels like it’s floating off his body. He doesn’t care that your touch would feel like molten lava on his skin, he needs you to touch him, pet him, hold him, anything.

It’s been only about half a minute since you started, but Mammon’s a mess. There’s drool where he’s got his face pressed to the floor, his poor, abused cock is deeply flushed and throbbing, his hands form fists behind his back. You feel sorry for him.

“Cum again and you can be done.”

He sobs against the ground and weakly thrusts his hips. The feeling against his sensitive skin is almost too much, but he knows that he needs to push himself over the edge for this torture to end.

“Cum, gonna- gonna, ‘m cumming! Nnngh!” With a low whine, his orgasm washes over him and he shudders, cock giving pitiful little drops of white against the dark tiles. Immediately you go and turn the vibes off, then gently remove the clamps from his sore chest. You let him rest like that for a moment, panting and warm on the floor, your hand gently placed on his bicep to ground him. Once you think he’s ready, you slowly, carefully, take the vibes off of him and set them aside, ignoring his whining complaint at the oversensitivity.

He looks like a mess. Drool on his cheek, the beginnings of tears in his eyes, a shine of sweat across his body. You feel a sick sense of pride inside you, knowing that you made him be this way.

“Oh, my little pet, come here.” You open your arms and he eagerly- though shakily and slowly- clambers his way into your lap. He fits himself against you as best he can. One of your hands comes up to rest on the back of his head, cradling it against your shoulder, while the other holds him across the back. “You did so good for me, you’re always so good for me.”

He tilts his head, turning his face to your neck, and shifts into his demon form. You begin to preen and care for him wings, feeling him shiver as he comes back to his body.

“Come take a bath.” You say. Your voice is soft, and it’s taken on more notes of care and compassion than you’d had in the scene, but you keep just enough sternness that it still registers as an order from his dominant. You’re not looking to give him whiplash from jumping out of a scene too soon. He nods, mindful of his horns as he pulls back from you, taking your hand as you walk him over to the bathroom connected to the room. You plug the tub and get the water running.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to go get some stuff for this.”

You’re fleet footed as you move back to the room and grab the things you need, heading back with them in your arms. A pack of cookies, a bottle of water, and some bubble bath soap. You come back to find Mammon with his hands in the warm water filling up the tub as his body is wracked with shivers.

“Come on, let’s get you in there.” You feel a little bad for taking your eyes off of him long enough for him to get chilly, but you know that he’s fine. You help him into the bath and he immediately sighs at the warmth, relaxing into it until just the top half of his face is above the water. He looked at you with puppy dog eyes, requesting something despite not wanting to move his lips out from under the warm water to actually ask. Though, you know exactly what he wants.

You remove the remainder of your clothing and slip into the tub, situating yourself behind him. He immediately leans back into your warm chest, a low, demonic trill resonating from him like a purr. You gently splash water across the parts of his body that aren’t under it and you pour the bubble soap into the bath, allowing it to foam. Gently, caringly, you clean his body. You hadn’t done any impact play tonight, so there are no wounds to take care of, but you still check him over for any injuries.

“Anything hurt?” You say, hands massaging down his body.

“Just a little sore, ‘s all. Usual stuff.” He was hesitant to move up enough out of the water to speak, but he knew that you wanted an answer. Almost immediately after, he sinks back down into the comforting warmth.

“Good, let me know if anything feels off.” You begin to wash his hair. You move delicately as you wash his hair and pay careful attention to his wings and horns, slowly coaxing him out of the scene until you’re both on equal ground. Though, you still turn him down when he wants to return the favor of being washed, citing that he should just relax after such a scene.

“It makes me happy to take care of you, Mams.” You say with a smile as you work some shampoo into your own hair. You don’t spend nearly as much time cleaning yourself as you did cleaning him, just simply doing your usual shower routine. He waits idly by, eyeing you as you wash yourself. His wings dip passively into the water, casually swishing about in the foam.

“What are you looking so hard at?” You giggle. His eyes track the bubbles that cascade down your body as you wash the shampoo out of your hair. Mammon instantly huffs and pouts, stuttering out a few syllables as he tries to think of a response.

“Can a demon not keep an eye on his treasure?” He says, resolute in believing that that was somehow a correct and convincing answer.

“I don’t mind you watching, baby, you don’t have to be embarrassed.” Reaching out, you take one of his hands in your own and place it at the side of your waist, physically giving him permission to touch and hold you. You finish cleaning yourself up, noting that- while he’d moved off of you so that you could wash up your own body- Mammon has been scooting closer and closer to you the whole time. You rinse the both of you off, then get out of the bath and unplug the drain. You towel dry Mammon off first, laughing at the way he bats his wings to get the water off of them, before moving to dry yourself off next.

Next comes the pajamas. After finding out a while ago that Mammon usually just slept in an old shirt and boxer briefs, you’d gotten him some actual pajamas to wear. You hand them over to him. They’re the softest, comfiest set of pajamas you could find, and they’re extra comforting after a scene. He puts them on himself and waits for you to get dressed before following you out into the bedroom once again.

He’s in bed the first chance he gets, slipping under the covers and waiting for you, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes. Naturally, you relent and get in with him, allowing him to pull you close.

“Was that all good, Mams?” You ask as you wrap your arms around him.

“I can’t think of any complaints.” His words are already slurring with the pull of sleep.

“We can talk in the morning.” You pet his hair, “Good night, baby.” He nuzzles into you, nearly hiding his whole face against you. You can feel his dopey smile against your skin.

“G’night, MC.”

Want to request something? Send a request to my inbox, or support me on kofi!

#mammon #obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #my writing

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heresathreebee · 3 years ago

Text

Wearing THAT Part 2

Summary: Reader teases Dewey in a Poison Ivy costume. You finally get to fuck you best friend. Let him show you stars. Previous Masterlist

Tags: 17+ | Undressing, oral sex (female and male receiving), protected sex, light choking and spanking, and hair pulling

AN: damn I took way too long to post this but IT'S FINALLY HERE PLEASE ENJOY

“Big baby,” you hiss.

“What was that?” Dewey sat up on his haunches and his jeans burned as he straddled your bare thighs. You could honestly say you never once imagined this would happen in real life and you’re kinda nervous about the expectations not just for you but for him. Yet every move he makes brings you confidence– you’re both all in now, why not have fun? You were about to fuck your best friend afterall. Speaking of, Dewey brings your attention back to the present when you feel his warm hands slide around your wrists and pin you to the bed below. “What did you say?”

You can’t help but squirm and you feel the gush of new wetness seep out of you. Dominant Dewey was never something directed at you before now. “I called you a baby! What are you gonna do about it?”

He knows you’re egging him on and he’s content to let you. His grip becomes tighter on your wrists to the point of pain and he loosens his grip like a warning. “Maybe I’ll flip you over and spank you, that what you want, you little brat?”

Un-fucking-believeable. You hate being called a brat, fucking loathe the word, but it sounds like the sweetest threat coming from him (maybe because you know he doesn’t actually mean it). You want to say yes, but Dewey climbs off of you to disrobe. White button up whipped to the floor by the lamp, superman t-shirt lost to the carpet by the door. It’s when he starts to undo his belt that you involuntarily whimper.

He hears you and goes a little slower.

"This what you need," he says with certainty. "Fuck, you look good."

His grip on your ankle encourages you as you slowly but surely wriggle and roll from your back to your belly, never breaking eye contact but feeling your whole body tremble. Dewey must see it as he drops his belt to the wayside much to your disappointment. You want to correct him, tell him you're excited, not scared, but you shut your mouth. Maybe it's for the best, you decide, maybe next time.

You yelp and quickly cover your mouth when you feel Dewey's hand come down on your ass. Dewey watches your flesh jiggle with a smirk. You feel heat seer through your body and grab one of his pillows to bite down on. You wiggle your hips encouraging him to do more.

You feel his hands slide up the backs of your thighs and then his teeth give you a nip on your sore cheek. The wetness between your legs grows. Dewey's hand comes down on your other cheek and your eyes roll back into your head. He groans and you hear him finally drop his jeans onto the floor before you feel his warmth meld onto your back.

Dewey plants a tiny kiss behind your ear. "Ned's still awake. We have to be quiet," he whispers regrettably.

"So?" You try to roll your hips and feel what can only be his hardened member. "Patty's out, what's Ned gonna do?"

"Ned will come in here if we're not trying," Dewey replies, "he's done it before, trust me."

You smack your lips to let him know you're annoyed but you are also immediately distracted by Dewey's warmth as it soaks into you. He's like your own personal heating unit, a furnace in human form. You can hardly feel the chill that usually takes over the room and you bet if you stood outside in the true Chicagoan winter in his arms you might not feel a thing.

His tongue is even hotter as he runs it between your shoulder blades. You know he's right– there's no spanking your butt in a way that feels good and is light enough not to make a lot of sound. You two haven't even had sex yet and you're already thinking of next time.

He purrs in your ear, "I'll make it up to you right now."

Dewey nudges your legs apart to sit between them. You want to turn over and watch him but you're committed to this position and the thrill of not really knowing what comes next. He doesn't leave you wanting for long as his hand slides between your belly and the comforter and his hips roll against you, languidly brushing his cock between your moist folds.

Fuck. "Do that again…"

You're not the one in control here, and just to remind you of that, Dewey ignores you. You feel him pull away and his hands circle your hips up so he can slide a pillow underneath and prop you up higher. You spread your legs almost unconsciously and await eagerly for his next move.

"Fuck." His breath ghosts over your backside and it makes you even more of a mess than you already are. "I can't believe it took us so long…"

The feeling of his fingers digging into your cheeks is followed by the feeling of him pulling them, spreading them wider for better access to you. Your body trembles in anticipation and your eyes drift shut as you feel his dexterous tongue circle your entrance. Dewey's moan makes you clench and you have to bite down on the pillow you've kept to your chest to keep quiet.

Dewey's mouth is languid and exploratory as he lavishes your most intimate parts with some much needed and long awaited attention. Your eyes roll back twice when he dips down to lick your clit, then goes back to focusing on your hole. The tip of his nose is another maddening sensation constantly bumping into you unexpectedly. You're used to your partner's noses bumping your clit, not your other hole.

Just when you think you can't take anymore teasing, Dewey pushes two fingers into you down to the knuckle and you whine. They're fucking thick and you definitely saw that beast he's got swinging between his legs so you know this is merely preparation for what's to come next. It forces you to shiver and squeeze the intrusion much to Dewey's delight.

"Dewey…"

Dewey hums against you and your core tightens in response. The scratchy hair on his chin is driving you to the edge faster than you ever thought possible but you want to see him. You twist and contort until you can look and reach behind you. Instead of tangling your fingers in his hair, you pet him. His eyes open lazily, looking at you over the swell of your ass. His fingers and mouth never stop working your body with the same skill he puts into playing his guitar and you can't stop that wave of emotion from crashing over you.

Your fingers curl into his hair and you can barely feel the moan he releases into your pussy because you are completely star bound as you cum.

Your legs twitch as you fall limp to the surface of the bed. Your head is still in the clouds and you barely notice Dewey crawling up your body to lay half next to you half on top to just cuddle with you and let you come back to your feet. You're grateful for the brief respite as you catch your breath and come to.

"Holy fuck." Your voice is muffled by a pillow and it makes Dewey chuckle. You roll over, put a hand on his chest to push him back and resettle face to face, then rest your eyes. "Gimme like five minutes."

"That good huh?" His voice is positively dripping with smugness but you let him have it.

There's nothing like the feeling of his head on your shoulder and his fingers gently grazing the back of your thigh. Dewey's not in a rush to finish, this is your first time together and he wants it to be good– he needs it to be good. Because he likes you.

You catch your breath and sit up, forcing Dewey to roll off of you. He gets a good look at your front now that you've sat up and he drinks it all in, eyes never lingering in one place too long. That pride goes straight to your head and you lean over him mischievously.

"This ain't everything you got, is it Rockstar?," you tease, "gonna show me what else you got, right?"

Dewey's eyes quickly turn dark again and his hands slide up your thighs to your hips. One hand grips the back of your neck and pulls you down into a deep kiss, your nipples tingling as they brush the hair on his chest. You don't expect him to flip you over and can't stop the AAAAUUGH that escapes your mouth.

You land right under the headboard not three inches from the night stand. Dewey towers over you, hips keeping your legs apart but it's not enough so Dewey presses his palms down on the inside of your knees to open you up even more, as far as you'll go. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip and you're briefly worried he's going to eat you out again– you want his cock.

The bobbing, red thing that's been leaking precum since you sat in his lap at the party. He must have noticed your line of sight as his hips jut forward just a little bit, inviting you to touch him. You make him look at you as you reach for it, feeling the smooth velvet skin wrapped over an iron rod. It's imperfect in that good way. Curves a little to his left at the end and he keeps his bush trimmed. You give his cock a squeeze at the base with every stroke and watch his eyes roll back into his head.

Dewey swallows roughly and shakes his head as if staving off a fog. He flicks your hand from his cock and leans down to kiss you again. You allow his tongue entrance without hesitation and run your fingers through his hair, just basking in his attention despite the throbbing need in your core.

You definitely hear somebody open the door over Dewey's sweet moan, but it's forgotten as soon as the door closes and the grumble that follows is muffled on the other side. It sounded suspiciously like finally.

You hum and break the kiss to breathe, "want your cock in my mouth."

Dewey is already shaking his head but you're adamant. "Just for a second, please? It'll only be a second."

"You're bold in assuming I'm going to last a second on that wicked tongue of yours."

You chuckle, but you lean back anyway and lick your bottom lip expectantly. Dewey rolls his eyes playfully, but he can't hide that he wants to see– even if only for a second– just how far you can take him. And he is in for a surprise.

"This is such a bad idea," he says, crawling up your body. "Stupid idea. Terrible…"

When his hips are high on your shoulders you open your mouth wide, tongue out just to tease him. You are rewarded with a deep, deep groan. Dewey's already thinking about how he's never going to recover from this.

With his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he presses the leaking tip to your tongue.

Instantly you give him a firm lick and feel his whole body shiver. The frenulum of his cock slides along the tip of your tongue deeper into your awaiting mouth. You wrap your lips around it and suck. The noise it pulls out of Dewey makes your nipples ache.

"Fuck…"

You relax your throat and take more of him and half way down his shaft you feel the hair of his balls tickle your chin. The man has to grab the headboard to keep himself upright, eyes rolling back into his head as he tries not to cum then and there. Before you can do anything more, his hips pull back, hand pressed to your forehead and he slides out of your mouth with a wet pop.

"No more, no more," he begs. He looks delirious for half a moment before he gathers his wits and climbs off the bed. He digs around in his nightstand for condoms, flashing six foil packets and asking with far more sense than he has in the past few minutes, "what color?"

"Green."

Dewey tosses the others on the nightstand and rolls the green one on at your request. He mumbles something under his breath and you kick him in his pert little ass. "What was that?"

"I said you would pick green."

"Well I gotta remind you how good I look in it, don't I?"

Dewey returns to the bed, towering over you from between your legs and ratcheting them up higher, bending you almost in half to glower almost menacingly. "The next time I catch you wearing tights, I'm going to fuck you through them."

You hum and buck your hips in invitation. "promises, promises…"

He kisses you as he finally, finally slides inside of your wet, tight heat. He tries, tries, tries to take it slow but once he's got the head in, he snaps his hips the rest of the way home, needing to be engulfed in you now. Your pussy feels even better on his cock than his fingers and you felt fucking amazing on his fingers.

"Babe…"

You dig your fingers in his hair and pull hard. "Fuck me, Dewey. I want bruises."

Your command is his to obey. It's not long before his deep, testing thrusts become a brutal pounding, one where he has to grip the headboard with white knuckles and hold you down with the other hand on your stomach. You take it– all of it– with dirty moans and thrashing. He's hitting something deep inside you that nobody has ever hit before and it's fucking unravelling you at the seems.

"So good…" his mumbling voice finally rises enough that you can make sense of his words over the wet slap of skin on skin. You're both coated in sweat and drunk on each other's bodies. Your eyes drifted shut at some point trying to not get overwhelmed by the many sensations but they fly open when you feel fingers around your neck.

Dewey's looking down at you and you've never felt hotter. His hand squeezes– for nothing more than a single second– and he watches you, still pounding away at your pussy.

You lean your head back, a silent offering. The next breath you take is deep and you are given no choice but to hold it as Dewey finally finally clamps his hand around your throat like a vice. Your mouth opens subconsciously but you cannot gasp. No air goes in or out of your lungs, there is only a burn beginning in your chest and a dizziness in your head.

Your eyes roll back and you break the instant Dewey let's slip a very unconscious and in the moment "fucking love you."

Stars burst behind your widened eyes and a gush of wet seeps in from somewhere in your body and pushes Dewey's cock out. He let's your throat go and has to cover your mouth at the volume of your moan.

The man laughs at the spectical and pushes back inside your heat, fucking your through your second orgasm and delighting in being covered in way more liquid than either of you expected.

His pace changes, long deep strokes meant for him and his pleasure. How he can still fuck you at this pace will leave you wondering for months after this, but he does and he does it so well. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down flush against your skin.

The change in angle brushes your clit and causes tiny sparks in you and you tighten around Dewey with a purr. He meets your purr with a growl, burying his face in your chest and continuing to pump into you. He's close, you can feel it in the frantic change in his rhythm. Dewey keeps time like a fucking metronome but he's lost in the feeling of your skin, your smell, your embrace.

Your legs wrap around his hips and you run your tongue over his ear before you whisper, "I love you too, Dewey."

Dewey's entire body freezes. His cock throbs with the beat of his heart as he fills the green condom and presses his hips into yours as hard as he can. He can't breathe until his orgasm recedes, and by then you're coming again too just from the excitement of it all. He can barely hear the whimper he releases into the hollow of your throat as your pussy milks him for all he's worth.

You're both shaking for several minutes in the afterglow, holding each other and catching your collective breaths. You barely remember cleaning up and changing the sheets. You do remember sharing starry eyed glances and giggles with Dewey just before finally falling into bed and curling into each other.

"Ok," you say, "I know I said we don't have to label it but…"

Dewey drags his knuckles against your spine. "Yeah… if you had to pick a name… what would you call it?"

You hum and draw stars on his chest. "How about… for the rest of my life?"

Dewey smiles till his cheeks hurt. "I could get behind that."

Morning comes with a flourish of sounds. Dewey's snoring, birds chirping, Patty knocking.

Oh god Patty's knocking…

You bury your face in Dewey's neck and groan. There's no way she remembers your promise… right? She's knocking a lot, maybe she's just mad with a huge hangover. "Dewey! Where's my girl? Dewey!"

"She's in here!" Your head shot up and you looked at Dewey with a face belying utter betrayal. Dewey simply looked at you with no remorse, like a cat who pushed your glass of wine from the table. "Ready to go for a run babe? You're good right? Do your legs work?"

"You motherfuck–"

But then Patty was opening the door with a confused face and you had to scramble to cover your nudity. "What? You're sleeping in the same bed now?"

"Uh…" you're at a loss for words between the two of them.

"Doesn't matter, get dressed! You can borrow my clothes or Dewey's, shower later! Let's go!"

As soon as Patty's gone from the door, you turn on Dewey. The man throws a hand up in defense but instead of catching your hands, you kiss him. You hold his heart in your hands and kiss him deep and long. When you finally pull back, he's breathless and ready for a second round.

And that's when you tell him, "when I get back, I'm gonna smash your guitar into tiny little pieces and stab you with them."

You left him alone to panic for the hour you were gone (he spent it hiding his equipment from you).

The End

@fundamentally-lazy @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @imma-fucking-nerd

#three bees writing #dewey finn #🐝🐝🐝✒#Dewey Finn x female reader #smut #🖤❤💛#black reader insert

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tsukkiseasalt · 3 years ago

Text

Eyes That Won’t Wonder

“What, what!?” You shriek.

Another low laugh erupts from him as he leans against the door, his large frame blocking any potential view of the inside.

“I believe that is a compliment.” He mumbles his lips curling up into a sly smile.

“Y-yeah, it was.” You stammer, words barely making themselves out of you as your stomach begins to do cartwheels.

“As much as I'd love to stay right here and chat, you’d probably find it to be much more comfortable inside.” He says, smile fully present now, and you take a moment to admire the sight-storing it in your mind. He moves enough for you to slip right past him and pause the moment your feet touch the dark hardwood floors.

The aroma is the first thing that invades your senses. It smells of pine and a rich tobacco, with slight hints of something sweet- maybe vanilla, you can’t really tell. The home is just as beautiful on the inside as it appeared from the outside. The dark hardwood floors complimented the ivory walls and dark rust colored trim. The living room was sparsely decorated though, it had only one couch, a chestnut loveseat and a matching recliner. He obviously doesn’t get many visitors.

“Your home is beautiful.” You say breathlessly, eyes roaming the space in awe.

“Thank you.” He exclaims, a large hand grazing the small of your back as he slips behind you and towards the kitchen. His touch makes your knees go weak and you steady yourself by placing a shaky hand on the door.

“Would you like something to drink?” You hear him call from the kitchen.

“Ah, water please.” You answer, taking a few deep breaths before you saunter over to the counter placing your folder in front of you. He slides the glass in front of you and you nod as a thank you before you begin to sip.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name.” He says leaning back onto the fridge, arms folded over his massive chest.

“Oh, uh, my name is y/n y/ln.” You mumble your index finger rubbing the rim of the glass.

“Lovely, it fits you.” He says, eyes catching your own. You can't help the blush that arises on your cheeks.

“T-thank you.” You manage to stammer out, silently cursing yourself for getting so flustered so quickly. He was a patient not some guy at a bar, you needed to get a grip and you needed to get it fast. “Uhm, you’re a bit younger than most of the other patients i have worked for. Is there actually anything wrong with you?” You quiz, but the words come out a bit harsher than you intended. “Oh goodness, I did not mean that in a bad way at all sir- Mr. Wakatoshi, oh my goodness. I am so sorry.” You exhale letting your head fall into your hands. Your words are all becoming a jumbled mess and you can't help the shame that creeps up your throat. Great, now he probably thinks I'm some kind of asshole.

“No, it's okay. I understand what you were trying to say. Two years ago I had to get a disc in my back replaced and it took a lot out of me. Though I can still get around pretty well, there are still certain tasks that I need help with. I am also set to have another surgery on my knee two months from now, so I thought it would be better to have someone get accustomed to me and my habits beforehands.” He says voice monotone. Is he angry?

“Mr. Wakatoshi, I am so sorry if I came off as rude earlier- I didn’t mean to offend.” You say feeling guilty.

He shakes his head. “You’re fine sweetheart, I’m actually quite flattered that you think that.” Before you have a chance to relish his words he starts again, “I’m going to go put some clothes on, but here. I made a list- well a schedule really- of how my day usually functions. You can look over it and if there is anything that seems to be a bit much for you let me know and we will make alterations to it.” He says walking out of the kitchen and returning with a piece of paper. “Here, I will return shortly.” He says handing you the paper. Your eyes skim the page as you read the text.

7:30am- Arrive & make coffee ( I prefer mine black)

7:45am- Read the newspaper

8:00am- Feed Randy & Lyle

8:15am- Pour second cup of coffee & wash dishes

8:30-9:30am- 2nd Workout (If you could have a bowl of fruits waiting that would be lovely)

10:00am- Post shower stretch (Help isn’t required but appreciated)

10:30-12:00pm- Take Lyle to the park (You are more than welcomed to join us)

12:30pm- Lunch / with Aone* (*Mon. & Thurs. only)

1:00pm- Stop at farmers market

1:30pm- Arrive home & check on Randy

1:35-4:00pm- Varies (You may leave at this time or you may stay for dinner.)

4:00-6:00pm- Prepare dinner

6:05- 6:45pm- Eat then wash dishes

All that is required of you is bolded, the italicized text is completely voluntary, though I would enjoy your company.

“Goodness.” You mumble, placing the paper down. “This is even less than I did with Washijō.” You thought you had it easy then just checking his oxygen, helping him up, and taking him wherever, but you were basically an in-home barista.

“I hope it isn't too much.” The voice startles you as he appears beside you now fully clothed- well not really. He had on a pair of dark sweatpants and a gray sleeveless shirt putting biceps on display for all to see.

“Uh, no, not at all sir. I was expecting much more actually.” You admit eyes darting between the paper and his arms.

“Oh, well I'm sorry to disappoint you.” He says voice low as he bends down to tie his shoes. “I’m sure that there will be more for you to do after my knee surgery.”

“Yes, and I'm not disappointed sir, I'm honestly kind of relieved. I haven't worked with anyone in quite a while, so this is a good refresher to allow me to get back into the routine of things.” You say words falling from your lips before you realize it.

“Is that so?” He asks standing back up to his full height, face full of curiosity.

“Yes, my previous patient passed away and I took some time off. He and I were close, friends even, and the death really hit me hard even though I knew it was coming. It still hurts ya know.” You exclaim as feelings of sadness wash over you at the thought of your friend.

You didn't know what you were expecting when you told him that, maybe an ‘i'm sorry for your loss’ or nothing at all but it is safe to say a hug was not one of those things. His body was warm and his chest was solid- it felt good. You wrapped your own arms around his waist and closed your eyes.

“I hope that one day you and I could be friends as well.” He says quietly pulling away.

You don't fight the smile that graces your face, “Yeah, I feel like we will.”

The words seem to liven him because a large smile spreads across his face again. “Well I’m gonna go lift now, feel free to look around. There's food in the fridge and snacks in the pantry. Make yourself at home.” He says walking to the back of his home.

“Oh, Mr. Wakatoshi!”

“Yes love?” He asks, turning back around, a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Who are Lyle and Randy?” You ask looking back down at the paper, partly to hide the blush that you are now sporting. “Are they your children?”

“Yes, they are my children. I’ll introduce you when I return.” He laughs before turning back around and disappearing into a hallway.

You sigh as soon as he is out of eyesight dropping your head onto the cool marble countertop, raising your head just enough to read the time on the clock that sits unwavering by stairs. 8:37. You had just under an hour to get somewhat acquainted with the home you would now be in for ten hours a day for six days a week. You decide to begin with the kitchen, opening and closing drawers & cabinets identifying the contents within them, occasionally rubbing a light hand over them. Next is the living room. The wide open space is mostly vacant and you take a seat on the loveseat sinking back into the cushions. “Nice.” You mumble.

Pushing yourself up you wonder to every room opening the door just enough for you to peek in and see what it is. You hesitate though when you get to the room at the end of the hallway. It’s his. You could sense it, nonetheless you slowly push the knob down and peek inside. It’s clean just like the rest of his home. You don't linger and decide its best to close the door & move onto the next.

By 9:15 you’d looked throughout his entire home, and it was more beautiful than you could have imagined. The ceilings in the bathrooms were high and had beautiful artworks painted atop of them, they looked as though they belonged in a museum rather than someone's guest bathroom. The spare bedrooms were just as lovely. Each had a shelf that was littered with books and knick-knacks that looked foreign. All of this just fueled your curiosity- what did he do & how long did he do it?

You shrugged as you went back into the kitchen jumping when you saw his large frame in the fridge. He was shirtless, again, but this time his hair was wet and clung to his head. The small gray stripes were clear as day against his dark olive locks.

“Oh, hi. I didn’t think you’d be done yet.” You say awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

“Yes, I finished early and decided to shower & grab a snack.” He says waving the bowl of strawberries.

“I was about to prepare one for you.” You said.

“Oh, thank you. You don't really have to do anything today, just get accustomed to things.” He says popping the small red fruit into his mouth.

“Would you like me to stretch you out?” You ask, remembering the list.

His eyes shoot up to yours as soon as the question escapes your lips and you realize how wrong it sounded and before you had a chance to correct yourself he spoke. “You stretch me out, I mean i’ll try anything once but i’d prefer the opposite..”

His words startled you to say the least, and almost instinctively the words flowed from your lips, “I’d like to see you try.”

His eyes widened at your remark and at that you began to spew apologies. “Shit, fuck, DAMMIT. God, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, the stretching part I mean. Well I meant that, but not what I said afterwards. Ok, let me start over. What I meant to say is do you need help stretching considering you just got done working out. There, that's what I meant.”

Your eyes are frantic as they lock with his. God, it's the first day and I'm already gonna lose my damn job. Just great. His lips are pressed in a straight line for a moment before he finally lets the edge of them glide up into a small smirk.

“I’ve already stretched, but I suppose I could go a little deeper, maybe a little harder this time.” He says emphasizing the two words as he pops another strawberry between his lips smirk still evident.

“The stretches of course.?” You ask for clarification.

He hums and pops another strawberry between his lips setting the bowl down onto the counter stalking towards you, his large figure quickly engulfing your much smaller one almost instantly. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

You can feel his warm breath on your lips as he leans down, “But if that is what you insist.”

A loud bark bellowed throughout the kitchen causing you to jump. He smiled and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “No need to fret, he was probably just getting anxious to meet you.”

“He?”

“Yes, my son, or at least one of them. Come on so I can introduce you.” He says guiding you down the hallway, to his room you assumed. You were correct, you realized as he pushed the door open revealing a large dog.

“Don’t worry sweetheart he doesn’t bite. Daddy made him promise to be on his best behavior.” He whispers lowly into your ear.

Fuck, this may be harder than I thought.

hiiiiii, this is the second chapter & you can just check the tag eyesthatwontwonder to read the first. anywaysssss i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <33

#haikyu x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu!!#ushiwaka #wakatoshi ushijima #shiratorizawa #smut #eyesthatwontwonder #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu smut #haikyū!!

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cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 4 years ago

Text

George Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! Could I please request situations #2 & 4 from your prompt list with #7 from the fluffy/funny section with George Weasley? 💗💗💗 @thatdumbbitchxx

2.Truth or dare with a twist

4. AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

7. a: “That's going to hurt in the morning” b: “It hurts now actually”

A/N: This sounds so cute! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: FLUFF OH MY LORD THIS IS SOFT, George injury, Swearing, so many commas IDK how to write, slight Angelina x Fred if you squint, I think that’s it!

“You did not convince Mcgonagall to do a prank with you, that’s a straight up lie” Oliver said, crossing his arms in disbelief.

“Its true! She made me promise never to tell, I swear it’s my deepest darkest secret! It would have never worked without her help” Fred said dramatically, making the group laugh.

You and the Gryffindor quidditch team where currently in an enchanted tent on the pitch. It was nearing the end of the semester, and since you were all really close, you decided to spend the night on the pitch to spend some time together. (With Madam Hooch’s permission of course)

“Anyway moving on!” Angelina said loud enough to get everyone's attention. “George, truth or dare”

Now truth or dare with the quidditch team was brutal. The truths were intense, the dares were near impossible, and if you couldn’t complete either, you had to confess a secret about yourself (Fred's being that his ‘best prank’ was actually executed by a professor).

“Dare” He said with a grin.

“All you’ve done are dares!” You complained, making some of the other team mates laugh.

Secretly you were wanting him to choose truth so you could discover if he has a crush on anybody. More specifically you. You have had a crush on the younger Weasley twin for some time now, and it seemed that no matter how many hints you gave, he never seemed to get the hint, only ever treating you as a friend.

Angelina was aware of this, and tried to think of a dare risky enough to make him cave and confess a secret.

“I dare you, to do a backflip on your broom” She said, a grin spread across her face.

“That’s it?” He asked.

“I’m not finished” She replied, causing the other team members to look at each other nervously. “I dare you to do a backflip on your broom, blindfolded”

You glared at her. She was basically saying confess or break your neck, and as much as you wanted to know if George liked you, you weren’t willing to risk him getting hurt. You opened your mouth to protest, but George beat you to it.

“Fine” He said, standing to leave the tent, broom in hand. Angelina's face fell, not expecting to actually agree and you quickly stood to follow him.

“George its a stupid dare, come on we can figure something else out” You practically pleaded, walking alongside the boy.

“What, worried about me Y/L/N?” George responded in a joking tone.

“Yes! I mean, yeah” You shouted before correcting your voice, causing George to laugh.

“It’ll be fine, I have my lucky charm with me” He said smiling at you, causing you to blush a bit.

You reached the middle of the pitch and stopped. You along with the rest of the group stood in a line, watching as George mounted his broom before using his tie to cover his eyes.

“Absolutely brilliant idea Ange” You heard Fred say from beside you, causing you to turn and glare. “What? He’ll be fine, and then you can give him a congratulatory kiss, and maybe a little extr-” You punched his arm, swiftly shutting him up before he rubbed the spot you struck.

“Ouch! Yeesh I’m just teasing, or am I?” He asked smirking

You shook your head and turned your attention to the other red head, your heart pounding in your chest as he took a deep breath and set off on his broom. He started getting higher, going almost vertically before completing the flip, leaving plenty of space between him and the ground. Cheers rang out through the group.

“Absolutely brilliant!” Fred shouted, you cheering and clapping as well.

“Well done George!” You shouted, noticing he was still moving forward a bit fast. “Do you think he-”

You watched as Georges arms flew up in victory, taking off the blindfold just in time to watch as he ran into the middle quidditch goal, knocking him off his broom and sending him to the ground. He wasn’t too far off the ground at this point, but it still looked rough.

“George!” You yelled, sprinting to the other side of the pitch, Fred and Angelina following close behind you.

You ran up to the boy who was now sprawled out on the ground, kneeling beside him to look him over, only to be met with the sound of laughter.

“George what the fuck, you had me worried sick!” You yelled pushing his shoulder, only causing him to laugh harder.

“I’m sorry, but that was wicked” George laughed

“Wicked indeed brother” Fred congratulated as he got closer, reaching out his hand to help George stand.

You quickly stood and watched George got his footing, noticing how he flinched at the action, Fred and Angelina taking notice as well. You opened your mouth to ask if he was ok, but Fred spoke first.

“Say George, you do look a little worse for wear, maybe you should take it easy” He said in a worried tone, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“He doesn’t seem to bad” Angelina started before looking towards Fred who was now giving her a knowing look, darting his eyes to you, then George. “Actually you know what, better play it safe”

“Should we take him to the hospital wing?” You asked

“Oh no, no need for that, but you should stick by him just in case” Fred said, pushing George to stand next to you.

“Yeah, in fact, you two should share a room! Broom related injuries can flare up at night so Y/n should be there just in case” Angelina said in a feigned serious tone.

The pieces started to click in your head and you glared at Angelina, who was desperately trying to hide her grin.

“Ok, that's absolutely not true, and where would you sleep?” You asked Angelina, trying to get her to give up on her little plan.

“See! You’re so knowledgeable on medical stuff, even more reason to stay with him! As for the sleeping situation, Angelina is more than welcome to bunk with me” Fred said cheekily, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m still here you know, and I feel fine” George interrupted

“Of course dear brother, but you may be in shock. Believe me you’re in good hands” Fred said as he slung an arm around Angelina before making their way back to the tent, leaving you and George standing next to each other, wondering what the hell just happened.

After a few moments, you and George snapped out of your stunned silence and started making your way back to the tent, joking about how this was most likely all some big excuse so Angelina and Fred could get together. You continued to joke with each other until you reached the tent, the other members of the group all having disappeared to their own rooms, leaving only one remaining for you and George.

And of course, there was only one bed.

One bed, with George, who you’ve had a crush on since fourth year, who was completely unaware of your feelings.

You were going to kill Angelina

“You know, I feel completely fine so I can just take the floor” George said after a moment, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What, don’t be ridiculous George, if anyone's taking the floor its me” You argued.

“Well I don’t want you to sleep on the floor either, so looks like were sharing” George started, before quickly adding “Unless you’re uncomfortable, because I don’t want you to-”

“George its ok, we’re both adults, it’ll be fine for one night” You said with a humorous tone that you hoped would help hide your nervousness.

“Yeah totally” George replied.

“Great”

“I’m going to get changed” You said

“Me too” He said

“Great”

You left the room and stood outside, face palming yourself. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you’ you mumbled to yourself.

You made your way to the main room, seeing your pajamas were already set out by Angelina, which you were somewhat thankful for. You quickly got changed into your large Tee and some shorts before heading back to the room, hesitating before you walked in.

George was sitting on the edge of the bed, now wearing sleep shorts but his shirt from earlier was still on. He looked up when you walked in, giving you a soft smile before returning his eyes to his hands, which were currently fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“You ok?” You asked, walking further into the room.

“Yeah, yeah I just messed my shoulder up a bit so I’m having trouble getting this off” He mumbled, motioning to his shirt.

“...Can I help?” You asked, sitting next to him.

“You don’t have to, I’ll figure it out I just-” He started,

“George” You interrupted, holding his face in your hands so he would look at you. “Please let me help”

He didn’t respond, just looked at you before letting out a sigh and nodding his head. You moved you hands from his face to the bottom of his shirt, slowly starting to lift it. You let you eyes dart to his exposed skin, before re-focusing yourself. George lifted his arms and your fingers brushed against his back as you lifted the fabric off his body, making his breath hitch.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask, stopping your movements.

“No, no you’re fine” George replied quickly.

“Ok, just let me know if anything hurts” You said before continuing to gently lift his shirt until it it was finally removed.

“Thank you” George said softly, turning to face you but your eyes were glued to the shirt in your hands, too nervous to look him in the eyes.

“Of course” You replied, giving him a quick glance and a smile before returning your gaze to your hands quickly handing him the shirt which he took. “Is your shoulder ok? Because I can go get some ice or-”

You were cut of my Georges hand finding your face, making you look up at him before his lips were suddenly on yours. Shivers ran up your spine, and all you could feel was him, his soft lips on yours, the smell of sweets and fireworks, his warm hand on your face. And then just as soon as it was there, it was gone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, shit I’m sorr-” George started pulling away, but you didn’t let him finish.

You moved your hand to his face and pulled him in to re-connected your lips. His hands moved to your hips and he pulled you onto his lap so you were now straddling him. Once again, you were lost in the kiss, only feeling him. And once again, he pulled away.

“Wait wait hold on, are you kissing me because I ate shit or because you actually like me?” George asked, making you hold back a laugh.

“I actually like you, I have for a while actually” You replied, making a smile spread across his face.

“I’ve liked you for a while as well” He responded, making your eyes widen in shock.

“Seriously? I was giving so many signs and I thought you were never going to catch on, that’s why Angelina tried to get you to confess a secret” You said

“No, Fred started the game to see if he could you to confess a secret” George said, realization suddenly washing over the both of you.

“They are truly evil” You said, almost impressed by their ability to secretly work together.

“True, but I also owe them my thanks” George smiled, re-connecting his lips to yours, poking your sides which made you giggle into the kiss, allowing George to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Ok, maybe Angelina and Fred deserved a thank you.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I wasn’t sure which direction to go with this for a while so that’s why it took so long to post, either way I hope you enjoyed. Also, I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be more Fluffy or smutty, so I left room for a part two if you’d like. Thank you again for the request!

#george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #george weasley x you #george x reader

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punkpresentmic · 3 years ago

Text

Traitor Aizawa AU Pt. 4 — 1, 2, 3

cw for implied sexual content, but nothing that warrants a mature rating

Hizashi digs back into his husband’s case, & it's clear investigators still don’t particularly WANT him to—partially for distrust, partially for the still-secret letters, he's sure. But he does what he can to show them that he wants this mess cleaned up. They reluctantly give him what they have to chew on: not much—a vague lead, an unreliable source. It puts Hizashi no closer to the letters or why they were taken.

The investigators only keep an eye on him until they get bored &/or annoyed, judging him airheaded or harmless. Once he’s away from prying eyes, he sets off on his own; Hizashi is already in deep with less-than-legal activities lately. He sneaks into their evidence archives.

The letters aren’t there.

Hizashi skips out of the police station before he’s discovered sticking his nose where it shouldn’t be. He has to get back to school anyway. After teaching English & having a shitty, lonely lunch, an idea occurs to him. If it was Nezu who suggested the letters be taken… would Nezu have kept the letters?

So Hizashi sets out about a new kind of heist. Nezu is in a meeting & the principal’s office is locked, but Hizashi as a tenured faculty member has access to anywhere in UA. Of course it’ll record that he entered, but that’s not Hizashi’s concern right now. He goes through every file in Nezu’s cabinet. Nothing. His heart sinks. Then he notices Nezu’s desk drawer has a simple lock on it. As a last ditch effort, he picks it with a bobby pin. There’s a bowl of candy inside. It’s the only idea he has left to pick it up & see if there’s anything underneath &.... Sure enough, just like in a bad movie the drawer has a false bottom. Under it, there’s a neat stack of letters bound with a rubber band.

They’ve all been opened.

Hizashi immediately seeks out the one marked with his name, tugs it out, skims it. It’s everything Shouta said it was. It ends with I love you. The script is shaky. Hizashi’s heart is in his throat. Oh, Shou…

Nezu coughs; Hizashi nearly jumps out of his skin. “You know,” Nezu says, “a locked drawer in a secure area might also be reasonably assumed to be alarmed.”

Hizashi meets his eyes, lets the letter fall to the desk. “Care to explain what these are?”

Nezu is impossible to read. “They are exactly what they appear to be: letters left behind by Aizawa Shouta, confiscated at the time of their discovery.”

“He left me a letter,” Hizashi repeats, careful to reign in his voice as he shakes his head. “He left his students letters. We all thought he left without even saying goodbye.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Nezu notes, tone even and gentle. “You are aware he left a clear & concise description of his crimes. I do believe that’s going to be important to remember going forward.”

Hizashi grinds his teeth at that. “Why wasn’t I made aware of this?”

Nezu backs down with a sigh. He climbs into his desk chair, Hizashi moving to stand on the other side of the desk. Nezu gazes sadly down at the pile of letters. “There were two main factors we had to consider. Firstly, at the earliest stages of the investigation, it was unclear if you or any of the students had secret involvement—the letters could have held nefarious communications.” Nezu took a breath. “We no longer believe that after thorough analysis. Though perhaps this should not come as a surprise—if there was anything we knew about our Eraserhead, it was his steadfast aversion to extraneous details or wasting time.”

Hizashi’s heart throbs painfully in his chest.

“As for the second reason: the emotional & psychological impact that these letters could have on our community. Our hero students with their steadfast trust in their instructor were particularly vulnerable. & you, Yamada, are not an exception to a similar emotional vulnerability. In the interest of damage control, in doing my best to hold the UA community together & keep it from further collapse, the letters were confiscated promptly & without notification of their existence.”

Hizashi’s fingernails dig into his palm, fists clenched to stop his hands shaking. “I’m an adult. & a pro. I don’t need the same protection as 15 year-olds. We’re talking about my husband. I think I’m entitled to some transparency.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Nezu placates. “But I wanted you to receive this information once we had a better understanding of the situation. & once you had emotionally stabilized from what I’m sure is an unforgivable betrayal.”

‘Unforgivable.’ That wording was purposeful, Hizashi knew. It almost begged him to dispute it.

Hizashi spread his hands. “So you don’t think I’m emotionally stable? & you let me keep watching over the next generation?” His laugh was intended to be dry at most, but it comes out nearly hysterical.

Nezu sighs again. “Yamada, you were hurting. & you refused the counselling we recommended. You chose to work through your pain. We were not going to deny you that.”

“Principal, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not really buying that you’d have shown me these letters even if I had gone to counselling.”

Nezu hummed. “What do you know about Eraserhead’s motivations, Yamada?”

He forces a smile through gritted teeth. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, almost sunny. “Beyond the fact that he has them.”

“Indeed. I’d hoped you & this community would have time to heal. & I’d hoped in the meantime the investigation could provide further insight into why this happened. The rhetoric with which these letters were written is not something that can be overlooked.”

“I thought you said there weren’t any secret messages.”

“Codes & clandestine communications, no. Ulterior motives & further lies & attempted manipulation, on the other hand…” Nezu meets his eyes. “There’s a level of cunning with which these crimes were committed right under our noses, a level of plotting that got past even me. You must understand I am only trying to do what I can to protect my students & staff from any further harm or puppeteering at the hands of villains.”

Hizashi has to look away. He monitors his breathing, lets his head hang when it doesn’t come back under his control. Fists and teeth and heart clenched against all of this. Too much. It’s too much.

There’s a paw on his arm, then. “I’m sorry, Yamada. This was not an action intended to be harmful. You’re hurting. Of course you are. But you are also strong & intelligent. Meet with a counsellor. Talk to someone. Kayama is worried for you; that much is clear. There are people who care & want to help you through this. Please, Yamada. Don’t shoulder this alone.”

Hizashi does try seeing the counsellor. He leaves within fifteen minutes.

The next time Shouta arrives, as he said he would, he’s still absolutely ragged. But it doesn’t seem like he’s gotten worse. Aside from the smell. Hizashi has him take a shower. Shouta stepping into the room towel-drying his unruly hair in Hizashi’s fluffy robe is somewhere between endearing & heartbreaking. Hizashi pats the spot on the bed beside him. Shouta sits.

He tries asking again about the why, about the what caused you to do this. Again, Shouta can’t talk about it. Maybe soon, Shouta says noncommittally.

Hizashi relays the story about finding the letters, about reading his, about the confrontation with Nezu. Shouta looks concerned. Hizashi shakes his head, reiterates that he doesn’t quite have it in him to believe that Shouta is a villain here. But he can’t believe this blindly after all that’s happened. He needs information. Because this doesn’t make sense for the man he knows. Shouta nods. “I know.”

“Then why can’t you give me something to work with here?” Hizashi whispers, & they’re close.

“Two reasons,” Shouta breathes between them. “The first being that it would put me in danger of not being able to do what I need to do.” Then he gives Hizashi a small, shitty smile. “& the second is that if I tell you, you might try to come with me.”

Hizashi hums, drinking this in. “If I did, maybe you’d have someone to make sure you had your eye drops.”

It startles a snort out of Shouta, & his husband laughing in his bed is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in months, & Hizashi knows he’s already too far gone, & Hizashi doesn't hesitate when he kisses him this time.

They sink deeply into it immediately. It’s been so long. Too long. Hizashi makes a move to take it further—it’s been too long—& Shouta pulls back to start on the ‘I haven’t proven myself to you, I’ve done nothing to deserve your trust, etc etc’ spiel. Hizashi wants none of it. & frankly he’s a little sick of people making decisions ‘for his own good.’

& he sure as hell isn’t going to let his husband get away without knowing that he’s wanted here, that he’s missed, desired too. Hizashi tells him as much.

Ultimately they fall together easily, if not guiltlessly. There’s a heaviness between them even as they press desperately close, a weight to their actions. It’s a certain relief—this shared knowledge that they’re still them, or at least willing to try. ‘Deserved’ or not, to Hizashi it’s like catching a glimpse of the Sun after days trapped underground—too bright to look at directly, yet simultaneously the most sublime relief.

Hizashi is naked in Shouta’s lap, Shouta’s face buried in his chest. When Hizashi comes down from basking in the afterglow, it’s to realize that Shouta isn’t just trembling under him. Shouta's eyes are too dry these days to make actual tears, but the shuddering & quiet, hiccupping sobs are unmistakable.

Hizashi shushes him gently, kisses his eyes, whispers about not straining them more, about how he’s got him, how he’s here, how he’s not going away, how he loves him. How they’re going to get through this together. Hizashi lays them down, holding him near, stroking his hair. This time, it’s Shouta who falls asleep in his arms.

He’s still gone by morning.

(pt. 5)

#isaythings #traitor aizawa au #traitor!aizawa #fic #erasermic #angst

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jjmaybnks · 4 years ago

Text

games- jj maybank

warning: smut, weed, unprotected sex, cursing

word count: 2.6k

idek if this is any good, i’ve never written smut before so i hope this is okay. also thank you so much for @spilledtee for giving me inspiration!!

the way he was looking at you was enough to send chills down your spine. his hungry lust eyes trailing up and down your body, like a predator that had not been fed. he kept the conversation to a minimum, passing you the blunt once in a while in a drugged haze, you knew you were giving him the same looks. it was a battle that both of you played, who’d break first and god, you didn’t want to lose.

he knew what he was doing, the lingering touches, on your thighs, on your hips. how he never broke eye contact with you, his smirk not leaving his face. he wanted to break you, he enjoyed the thrill of it, having you whimpering and begging for him. it made him feel almost god-like, having his girl beg for him to please her. make her feel good how only he knew how.

“how are you feelin’ baby,” jj asked his grin permanently etched on his face. he knew exactly how you were feeling. he could see you clenching your thighs together, gritting your teeth together as you tried your hardest to resist the temptation of moving to sit on his lap and grind on his thigh. he knew he was breaking you and he adored the site.

"i’m fine babe, pass me the blunt” you almost whined, voice cracking as you tried to recover your composure, clenching your thighs as you tried to stop the heat that was building rapidly in the bottom of your stomach. the sweet slick started pooling at the bottom of your panties but were you going to let jj help? no, you were too stubborn for that. he wasn’t stupid though. he saw the little movements of your body, how your thighs were clenched, how your fists were gripping the covers of your bedsheets, how your eyes closed and how you exhaled a breath when he leaned closer.

it was almost painful how much jj needed you. his bulge felt unbearable against his swimming shorts. god how much he wanted your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. that’s all he could think about, your perfect lips wrapped around his shaft as he fucked your throat, his large hands grasping your hair so it didn’t get in the way. without realising, he let out a quiet moan that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

smirking, you started stretching, revealing the bare skin of your torso, where he desperately ached to touch. you started leaving small lingering touches on his bare chest, smiling innocently as he closed his eyes basking in the small amount of pleasure you were giving him. you left even more touches, leaning forward slightly so you could leave open-mouthed kisses along his abdomen, sucking slightly, leaving marks all over him. you loved the effect that you had on him, hearing the small noises that were coming out of his mouth that he desperately tried to hide, but you heard every single one and that gave you the confidence to start trailing your hand down to the base of his swimming shorts, playing with the waistband.

“stop teasing or i’m going to fuck the life out of you” jj stated angrily, his hooded eyes gazing at you, his blue orbs filled with lust.

you knew you’d won, the prominent tent stood proudly against his shorts, begging for attention. “maybe that’s what i want..daddy” you whispered seductively, looking into his almost black eyes and smiling innocently. his whole demeanour changed, he flipped you over effortlessly placing his rough hands around your throat, gently squeezing, whilst he looks straight into your (y/e/c) eyes, never breaking contact. “is that what you want baby? daddy to make you feel good?” he muttered, his other hand gently caressing your face “too bad baby, tonight you’re making me feel good, brats don’t get rewarded”

“yes, daddy” you spoke quietly, knowing that you’d be in for a long night of pleasure.

“now be a good girl and suck daddy's cock angel” he almost whispered, switching positions so he was lying on his back, giving you easy access to his cock, that was begging for you to touch. you pulled down his shorts and let it spring free. you started slowly, palming him, hearing his grunts of pleasure gave you the confidence to speed up your movements, and slowly sucking his angry red tip. jj hissed at the intense pleasure that filled his veins.

“more angel, be a good girl” jj whispered twirling your hair around his finger, looking you in the eyes as he bit his lip harshly. you complied, spitting on his thick length before taking him in your mouth, taking in as much as you could. that wasn’t enough for jj, he needed more. gripping your hair tightly he holds your face against his cock as he fucked your throat with so much force, causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and gagging around him as he restricted your breathing. it was a sight for him, seeing your pretty face with tears running down your face and saliva dripping down your chin, it gave you an almost angelic glow. oh, how he loved this particular sight. he kept fucking your throat, letting out animalistic growls of pleasure as you made him feel good with only your mouth. you started fondling with his balls, he let out a deep moan as he started slowing his pace down. “keep doing that angel and i’ll cum down right now, fuck, and i have other places in mind where i want to cum” jj mumbled, face screwing shut as you continued your actions.

it wasn’t long until he flipped you over so he was hovering over you. he gave you a slow gentle kiss, his tongue asking for entrance that you didn’t hesitate to give him. your tongues battled for dominance as his hands slowly moved down your body, his fingers finding your chest, his hands going under your bikini top, playing with your erect nipples. a sigh left your lips that he perfectly caught in his mouth, you felt your bikini pants dampen as he continued to flick them perfectly with his fingers. his lips started trailing down your jaw and down to your neck, he started sucking lightly, causing you to moan as he found your sweet spot, whilst his fingers continued to trail down your body until he reached the waistband of your bikini panties. his tongue began lightly licking the mark he just made, causing even more whimpers to spill from your lips. his teasing would be the death of you, how you just wanted him to fuck you right now, let all his frustrations out on you, but he wasn’t going to. not yet at least.

his hands slipped into your bikini bottoms, his fingers lightly grazing your sensitive bundle of nerves, your hips bucked upwards from the shock of pleasure he had given you. his smirk never left his face, he had you right where he wanted you.

“you like that, princess?” jj asked rhetorically, he knew you loved it, the sounds you made and all he has done was graze your clit with his fingers. taking it further he started spreading your folds with his fingers, collecting your wetness before he pulled his fingers away and sucked them clean. the sight was enough to cause another pool to form in your panties. “yes, daddy. fuck please. more” you moaned, your words coming out incoherently as you desperately waited for him to touch you again. your hips bucked in need as he hovered over you, enjoying the sight in front of him. deciding you continue his actions, he moved his hands under your panties again, he resumed his earlier acts of rubbing your clit with his two fingers. you moaned in pleasure and content, he knew exactly what to do, the correct speed to go to get you to submit under him, how to make you moan and whimper and beg for him. he sped up, his fingers moving like a figure 8, you were close, you could feel your orgasm building, your toes started to curl and then he stopped, leaving you a complete mess.

“sorry baby, can’t have you cumming just yet” he replied smugly before he attached his lips to your neck, sucking another mark on your delicate skin, his fingers hovering over your aching core. he pulled away and lifted your hips whilst he slid your bikini bottoms down and threw them somewhere behind him before his fingers returned to your clit and he started rubbing again. but this time he went even further, his fingers teasing your hole before he slowly inserted his index and middle finger inside of you. he moved them at a gentle pace watching you in your pleasure induced state. he started speeding up, the metal from his ring cladded fingers feeling like a sting to your burning heat. he added another finger, his long slender fingers stretching you perfectly, his rings adding to the pleasure you were feeling. god, how you loved his fingers. he slid his fingers out of you and he lowered his head to your entrance, licking your clit slowly causing you to buck your hips involuntary into his face.

“oh fuck, fuck. fuuuuck” you mewled as his tongue continued to work wonders on your sweet bundle of nerves, your dainty hands clutch onto his blonde shaggy hair that was clinging to his forehead due to the sweat that had accumulated on his body. you couldn’t help but pull at his hair, he loved it, it gave him the motivation to go faster, to make his girl feel good. to make you cum. without lifting his head from your sensitive heat, he plunged two fingers into your dripping entrance, moving them at a vigorous pace. loud gasps and moans of pleasure spilled from your lips as the heat in your stomach seemed to intensify. he added his third finger, scissoring them whilst his tongue continued to suck and lick on your clit. you felt like you were flying, the intense pleasure coursing through your veins causing you to lose all sense of surroundings as he continued to assault your throbbing core. your orgasm was fast approaching and you couldn’t hold it anymore, releasing all of your sweet juices onto jj’s face. your hips grinding onto his beautiful face after you rode the wave of your orgasm. gasping as he still kitten licked your sensitive nub.

“mm baby, you taste good” jj smirked, crawling up from between your thighs, kissing your lips softly, you could taste yourself on his lips and you kissed him harder, savouring this moment. he couldn’t hold back any longer, he needed to be inside you. he tore off his ripped vest top and threw it somewhere on the bed, eager to get his hands back on you. he thrust in without any warning and your legs instantly wrapped around his waist as you let out screams of pure ecstasy. the only sounds that filled the air were yours and jj’s moans and skin slapping skin. both of your bodies glisten with sweat as the even sun gave you both an orange glow. his pace got faster and faster until the only thing you could do was gasp as your vision got hazy. his thumb found your clit and he started rubbing mercilessly causing your body to shake under his. your orgasm was fast approaching, your eyes screwing shut at the intense feeling that was washing over your body. your legs tightened around his waist as your hands trailed down his back, leaving marks as you repetitively dug into his back with your fingernails. your orgasm came crashing down as your pussy convulsed around jj’s cock, your toes cramping and your moans coming out as breathless whimpers, tears started to pool in your eyes as jj continued to fuck you.

“jj i can’t i’m too sensitive” you murmured out, too weak from your last orgasm to speak coherently, the pleasure still cascading down your body. “you’ve got one more in you baby, i know it” jj purred in your ear adjusting your legs so they were resting on his shoulders. he started slowly, moving at a gentle pace whilst you readjusted to his length, small gasps leaving your mouth as he hit your g-spot. he slowly sped up, his thick cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot causing strings of curses and moans to leave your lips. your hips bucked to meet jj’s thrust, his loud moans filling the room as he moved his hand to choke you, squeezing with the right amount of pressure to make your breathing laboured. god, this was a site to him, your eyes rolled back in pleasure, your moans sounded so heavenly, the sweat that covered your body giving you a radiant glow, your tits bouncing up and down at the same pace as his thrusts and the slick that coated your thighs and his cock. he thought you were a goddess, that is what you were to him.

“fuck baby, you’re such a good girl. fuck” jj panted out in complete pleasure, his face screwed shut as he continued to fuck you mercilessly. he gripped your throat tighter as you choked out a sob at your fast approaching orgasm.

“hold it, baby, don't cum yet” he groaned in your ear, pulling out of your soaked cunt so he could change positions. flipping you over so you were on your hands and knees, he got behind you and thrust into you causing you to fall forward. you couldn’t hold yourself up and fell into your soft duvet, your ass slapping at the speed jj was going, your moans along with the sound of your ass were enough to bring jj closer to his orgasm. “that’s it baby, fuck right there” he moaned out, you knew he was close, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. he gripped your hair and pulled you up against his chest and he continued to thrust in and out, his lips met your neck as he left small kisses before moving your head to the side and kissing you passionately. his lips left yours as his moans got louder and his hands returned to your hips.

“cum for me baby” he almost shouted as he released his cum inside of you the same time you cummed on his cock, your fluids dripping down your thighs as jj thrust his cum further into you, riding out both of your orgasms. your moans seem to come toa gentle whimper as he pulled out of your folds, your breathing seemed to be erratic as you fell on your bed, cum dripping out of your used hole.

“well that was eventful” you laughed out quietly as jj agreed with you letting out a small laugh as well. he got up and went to retrieve his top that had been carelessly thrown over your dressing table in the heat of the moment. he came back over and cleaned your thighs gently, making sure all the cum was removed before throwing it back to its spot on the floor. he gave you a small kiss on the lips before he pulled you closer to him so your head was rested on his chest before you both fell into a deep slumber.

“i love you jj”

“i love you, angel”

tags; @aberette13 @pancahke @boobear729 @sexualparkour @afterglowsb-tch13 @ilover5r9 @obxwriterfan @dolanfivsosxox @maybankiara @drizzlethatfalls @hmspoguee @verdeevidenziatore @chalametnpeaches @dallasandjjmaybanksbitch @lovelymaybankk @procasination-nations @spilledtee @drewtruly

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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

Text

Preen

Okay, this is 4000 words of fluff dripping with so much sop, it is almost pure liquid. It doesn’t really go anywhere, and it refused to come to a neat ending. So yeah, FishTank with just a dash of Earth and Sky in the middle, all wrapped up in the Marks & Wings AU.

I was desperate to write some comfort and M&W is my go to for self indulgence, so that’s what we have. Blatant Virgil comfort fic :D

Many thanks to @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment for the read through and support, but I would also like to say a very big thank you to all of the Thunderfam who sent me so many kind well wishes on Monday. I’m feeling better and the writing muscles seem to be flexing okay at this point, so maybe, if you like Marks & Wings, please consider this a bit of a thank you fic. And for those of you who don’t find this AU to be your cup of tea, I hope I can write you something you like in the near future. ::hugs you all:: You are all so kind and amazing to me.

I hope you enjoy whatever this is ::extra hugs::

-o-o-o-

“Virg, let me do it?”

Virgil brushed his fingertips through the length of one of his black flight feathers. Its root twinged, both with irritation and the ache of bruising, but he found the grass seed responsible and a pair of fingernails scraped it out and dropped it onto the locker room floor.

The relief was wonderful.

Only a thousand or so more to go.

A sigh. “Do what?” He started working on the next grass seed. Honestly, grass was evil and he was ever so thankful there was very little of it on the Island.

“Preen your feathers.” Gordon was standing in his swim shorts watching Virgil poke at his wings. “I want to help.”

Another grass seed fell to the floor. “It wasn’t your fault, Fish.”

“You still saved my ass.” A hesitant and emotional breath. “I want to help you.”

Scott was usually the one who helped each brother preen. ‘Smotherhen’ was a very appropriate name when he had his feathers out. Virgil helped Scott when he had issues. But feathers were sensitive and preening a deeply personal thing, much like bathing.

And Gordon didn’t have feathers and didn’t know what it felt like.

“You know I help Allie sometimes.”

The honesty and concern in those russet eyes were ever so strong.

“Okay.”

The small smile that spread on Gordon’s face lit up his eyes.

Virgil ripped another grass seed from his plumage and bruises twinged. Ow. “Be gentle. There are a few...bruises.”

The smile disappeared. “Are you hurt?”

Virgil sighed. Gordon had managed to get all the rescuees onto the rescue rig, but an explosion had destabilised the building before he could jump off himself. The result had seen his fish brother pinwheeling towards hard concrete.

Virgil hadn’t hesitated, his wings out before thought. Launching off the rescue rig, he’d swooped through smoke and caught his little brother midair. But another explosion had thrown him off pace and the result was Virgil curled protectively around Gordon and tumbling through a field full of weeds.

And grass. So much ripe seeding grass.

So not only was he aching all over from a shitty landing that could have, but somehow didn’t, seriously broken something, his wings were also full of contaminants.

The flight home had been hell. Even hidden in his mark, they itched, irritated and tormented him.

To finally be home and able to attend to the mess was a relief in itself, but not so much as getting all those damned seeds out. If Scott had been here, there would have been a lecture, but so much help.

Eight metres of feathers was a lot to attend to.

But Scott was on Three with Alan, so it was just him and Gords, an equally caring but inexperienced brother.

Virgil stretched out his right wing. It groaned and complained, forcing a breath from him. “Just aching bruises. I’m fine, Gords. Honest. Getting these seeds out will help a lot.”

Gordon held up his hands. “Tell me what to do.”

So Virgil did. He guided his brother’s hands to a feather, pointed out the snag and showed him how to use his fingernails to brush it out, how to align the feather into its correct position, and outlined how he would wash them himself and work a light preening oil over them after his shower.

Gordon listened ever so attentively and Virgil had to admit, it was a relief to have another set of hands working through his feathers despite the ache.

Gordon, for all their brotherly ribbing, was ever so gentle when he wanted to be. Virgil had seen him caring for children and babies out in the field and he trusted him with so much. His feathers were nothing in comparison.

More grass seeds fell to the floor. They would be vacuumed up and destroyed lest they contaminate the Island which was why Virgil was doing this in the locker room rather than anywhere else. There were decontamination facilities here of multiple types.

“Sit down, Virgil. Let me do this.”

Virgil blinked. “It will get done faster if we both do it.”

“You need to rest. And don’t tell me otherwise, or I’ll grab the scanner and prove my point enough to call in Grandma.”

His shoulders dropped. “Gordon...”

“Sit down, bro.” A hand on his wing shoulder. “Please.” Gordon really knew how to throw those puppy eyes around. To top it off, Gordon grabbed an office chair and wheeled it in so Virgil didn’t have to sit on the hard bench.

The upholstery looked soft and inviting – a sign that Virgil was obviously desperate. It was only one of the many type chairs in the villa and nothing special.

He must be tired.

“Fine.” Virgil groaned as he took the chair and straddled it backwards, letting the back rest support his front while his wings had total freedom.

Gordon was right. That tumble of a landing had punched the wind out of him. It had been a shitty rescue to begin with. The fall had just topped it off.

Fortunately, Gordon was fine. Virgil had used that entire eight metres of feathers to wrap around and protect his brother, curling them up into a ball that rolled, shedding harmful momentum.

But there were scrapes and bent feathers and bruises.

So many bruises.

Virgil winced as Gordon tugged on one. “Sorry! A stubborn burr. It’s out now.”

Virgil closed his eyes. “Is fine.”

Gordon’s fingers gently moved between primaries, methodically examining and removing irritants.

It was quite nice to have someone else taking care of his feathers. Gordon’s touch caressed jangled nerves, untangled snags and lined up vanes one by one. The relief was palpable and relaxing.

Virgil sagged ever so slowly where he sat, his head falling onto his arms.

At some point he realised Gordon was humming. Just softly and a familiar tune. It took a solid few minutes for Virgil to connect the notes and come up with the composition he had created for Grandma’s last birthday.

Gordon had a good voice. He wasn’t ashamed to use it either. Unfortunately, his choice of repertoire left much to be desired. His best usually involved an ancient sea shanty, a genre his fish brother actively took an interest in. At his worst, it was something like the ‘I’m too sexy for this shirt’ song from last century.

His little brother had blown a few shirt buttons the last time he danced to that one. If he’d known that Alan would film it and send a copy to Lady Penelope, then perhaps he wouldn’t have danced so...exotically.

Alan was still suffering the fallout from that episode.

Lady P was still smiling.

Virgil couldn’t help smiling, too.

“Got something on your mind?” Gordon startled him. “When’s Tin due back?”

“Gordon...”

“What? I know you have a thing for our lovely security chief. Just asking.”

“Well, don’t.”

But even that poke in the ribs couldn’t disturb him that much. Gordon was doing a great job cleaning his feathers and Virgil lost himself in the sensation of being cared for.

Gordon must have realised that his brother had found peace because he didn’t say anything further, just hummed away as he worked.

Virgil ended up with his eyes closed, his shoulders relaxed and his wings drooping on the floor.

He was vaguely aware of Gordon sweeping up detritus and for a moment, he put enough energy in to lift his wings off the concrete properly.

“I think I’ve got most of them.” His brother brushed his fingers gently through feathers, skipping across his secondaries, up to his lesser coverts and onto the down that tracked over his shoulders and back.

Virgil shivered at his touch.

“Virg?”

He pushed himself up, staggering to his feet. “Gotta go wash.” Gordon grabbed him as he wobbled.

“You sure about that?”

“Will be more comfortable.” He had to remind himself that Gordon didn’t know. Or maybe he did. Virgil felt suddenly felt guilty for not having had such a discussion with his little brother in the past.

“I can understand that, but you’re dead on your feet.”

Virgil forced himself to stand up straighter and everything ached. He experimentally flapped his wings just a little. So much better.

But they were still dusty.

“A quick rinse and dry. That’s all.”

Gordon looked ready to go for that scanner again.

Virgil sighed, half folded his wings and headed for the specialised wet area designed for just this activity.

He closed the doors between his brother and himself.

“Virg?”

“I’m fine, Gordon. I won’t be long.” Something obviously had the fish worried. Virgil closed his eyes and let his wings droop. They were heavy.

He gave himself that moment, before shucking off his pants and throwing them in the laundry chute. Lifting his wings again, he walked to the wall, punched in a temperature and set the fine spray running.

Walking into the warm water was bliss.

He may have lost himself for a moment or two between soap and spray.

“Virg? You okay in there?”

He startled and realised he had been standing there, half asleep for he didn’t know how long.

But he was clean. Thank goodness. Soap had been applied to skin and water had washed the dust from his feathers.

This, of course, made them heavier, but only for a short time as he switched the spray off and activated the blow dry.

Warm air evaporated the moisture off his wings. He flapped them repeatedly and they complained. But the water fell and soon he was as dry as he could be.

With a sigh, he carefully folded his pinions and let them go.

As always, it was a rush of sensation as they disappeared and his centre of gravity shifted abruptly. So tired, he staggered to one knee with a groan.

So many bruises.

“Virg, goddamnit.” His brother was suddenly there.

It wasn’t a gasp. It wasn’t. Really. “You ever heard of knocking?”

Yellow light flickered over him and he groaned. “Gordon, I’m fine. Just need some sleep.” He pushed himself off the floor.

A towel was shoved into his stomach. “Put this on. We’re going to see Grandma.”

Virgil clutched at the towel. “Why?”

Gordon held up the readings on the medscanner. “You tell me.”

Virgil stared at the numbers and the diagram representing his body. “Just some bruising.” Perhaps some imbalances. Nothing sleep and a good meal couldn’t fix.

The thought of food turned his stomach over. Maybe just a drink.

“I’m fine, Gordon. Feathers were a bit messed up. Broke a couple and gained some bruises. There is nothing a simple painkiller and bed won’t fix.”

He wrapped the towel around his waist anyway and strode towards the doors.

“Virgil-“

“Gordon, please.”

“Didn’t you say you needed to oil your feathers?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I could do it for you now.”

Virgil closed his eyes again. God, he was tired. “You can help me tomorrow. Now, I’m going to bed.” He shoved the doors open further and strode through. His uniform was still on the bench, but he’d stash that tomorrow as well.

Gordon hurried to catch up with him and followed him to his rooms.

“You’re stalking me, Gords. I’m going to get weirded out.”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror yet?”

“What? Why?”

He had been about to shed the towel and don his pyjama pants, but wasn’t used to the audience.

Gordon grabbed him gently by the elbow and led him over to his full-length mirror.

His reflection looked as tired as he felt. “What is your point, Gordon?”

His brother turned him side on, the black etching of his mark wrapping around his biceps and shoulder…was mottled.

Virgil twisted further around and found his mark to be a patchwork of red and blue up and down the length of his torso.

That explained the ow.

“I would really prefer Grandma to take a look, Virgil.”

“It’s just bruising.” No matter how spectacular.

“We fell from quite a height.”

Virgil looked over at his brother. “This is not your fault, Gords. You know that. A few bruises are nothing compared to your safety.”

“But what about your safety?”

“I’m fine.”

“Then why won’t you let Grandma have a look?”

“She doesn’t need to. There is nothing to look at.”

Gordon stared at him and something flickered in his eyes. “Fine. But I want you to let your wings out before you go to bed.”

Virgil blinked. “Why?” He had just let them go and that had hurt enough.

“I want to check to make sure all the burrs are gone.”

“We’ve already done that.”

“I want to give them another look, just to make sure.”

Virgil eyed him. “There is not enough room in here.” He gestured around his bedroom.

“Then we’ll go into the living room and set up a lounger.”

“So Grandma can accidentally find me there?” Virgil frowned at his brother.

“Nooooo.”

Virgil glared at him. He was up to something, he was sure of it. But Virgil didn’t have the energy to pursue it and honestly, he did trust Gordon. He knew enough to know that feathers were no joking matter.

Ever.

Not after the incident with Scott all those years ago.

That had not been funny at all.

And there was something in his brother’s eyes. Honest concern.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Entering the living room, Virgil was surprised to find that it was evening and the sun was gilding the Island. A gentle breeze was blowing off the caldera and the birds on Mateo were warbling as they settled down for the evening.

Virgil stood on the balcony barefoot, shirtless and just let it soak in. The breeze ruffled his hair and caressed aching skin.

“Virg? Come lay down.”

He blinked and turned to find Gordon standing beside a lounger with a thick mattress and several pillows.

“Gordon, why are you doing this?”

“I want to help. You got hurt because of me. Please help me fix it, even just a little.”

“It was not your fault. Just a shitty rescue.”

“You’re in pain.”

“It’s nothing, Gords, honest.”

“Will you please just lift and lie down.” There was just a touch of warning in his little brother’s tone. Gordon had a streak of their father in him almost as much as Scott did.

Fine.

But Virgil glared anyway.

Before he could think about it too much, he hunched and lifted.

And Gordon had to catch him or he would have fallen. God, that hurt. Only bruising, but ow.

Gordon had caught him under his arms. “Virg? You with me?” Worried brown eyes peered up at him.

“I’m fine.” But it was rasped out. His wings were still folded and a mass of ache, dragging on the floor.

“C’mon, let’s get you lying down.”

Virgil grunted. The divan suddenly looked so much more inviting. The pillow was soft beneath his cheek as he finally lay down on his belly. He let out a breath and every aching muscle relaxed into the soft mattress. Where had his brother found it? It was heaven.

“Spread your wings for me, Virgil?”

He blinked, almost on the edge of sleep. “Mmm-hmm...”

“This is the last I’ll ask of you, I promise. Spread your wings and then you can sleep.”

Sleep.

Ever so stiff, his pinions ached and creaked as he unfolded and extended them out. Gentle hands caught his left wing and guided it down to a soft surface. Footsteps around him and his right wing was gently nudged to an equally soft landing.

A hand on his shoulder and a finger brushed hair out of his eyes.

Ever so quietly. “Sleep, big brother.”

Virgil let his wing shoulders relax and mumbled into his pillow.

Gordon snorted just softly and a moment later a light blanket was laid over his legs. “Your modesty is safe. Now sleep.”

Mmph.

But Gordon was running his fingers through the fine down on his shoulders and Virgil was too tired to resist.

He slipped away.

-o-o-o-

“He’s okay, Gordon.”

The voice was his beloved grandmother, whispering. “He has some bruising and a few electrolyte imbalances. He just needs rest and possibly a painkiller.”

“He won’t take them, you know that.” A shaky breath. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, honey. What about you? You took the fall as well.”

“I’m good, Grandma.”

There was silence for a moment and Virgil drifted.

“He saved me.”

“You boys have a habit of doing that.”

“Grandma...”

“You fell. Your brothers can fly. Of course they are going to catch you.”

There was a muffled sound.

“Aww, honey, come here.” Shuffled footsteps. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“He’s hurt because of me.” There was a shake to Gordon’s voice that set off alarms in Virgil’s head. His little brother was hurting.

He shifted, attempting to shrug off the fog of sleep, but a small hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He had no idea if the words were addressed to him or to his little brother, but the hand brushed gently through his shoulder down and was ever so paralysing that he lost his fight with sleep again and drifted off.

-o-o-o-

Someone was tugging gently at one of his primaries.

The tugging nudged him into awareness, but then disappeared, leaving him floating in that lazy level just below full consciousness.

Fingers were combing ever so gently through his feathers.

One by one.

He was being looked after.

He wasn’t awake enough to protest, to resist the care being given. Not awake enough to feel guilt.

But enough to just enjoy being looked after, being cared for.

Being loved in the gentlest way possible.

Fingers combed through his secondaries and he let himself fall away.

-o-o-o-

“He’s okay, Scott. Grandma has checked him over, I promise. Just a mass of bruising.” Gordon’s voice was whispering again.

“He looks awful.” Alan’s honesty bounced around Virgil’s dopey brain.

“Shh. I know. Don’t wake him.”

A flicker of yellow light and Gordon sighed. “Don’t believe me, huh?”

“I believe you. I just need to check for myself.” Scott’s deeper rumble blossomed comfort in Virgil’s heart. His big brother was home. He would look after Gordy.

Virgil relaxed just that notch further.

-o-o-o-

Time passed.

It must have, because when Virgil finally woke up everything was quiet. Slow blinking revealed very early dawn barely lighting up the hardwood floor.

Slow neurons fired and eventually gave him the information he needed. He had fallen asleep before the sun went down. Gordy.

Gordy falling.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

“Gordon’s fine, Virgil.”

The words were quiet and calm.

He was laying on his belly and the barest of movements proved his wings were still out. Looking up he caught sight of his eldest brother sitting against the glass doors that led out onto the balcony. He blinked. They were closed.

Scott put down his glass of protein shake. He was dressed in his running outfit, but by the look of it, he hadn’t been out yet.

“How are you feeling?” His brother pushed himself off the floor and took the few steps across the hardwood to crouch down beside Virgil.

How was he feeling?

He had obviously slept in the same position all night and the smallest of movements let him know all about it.

Another groan gave him away as he let his forehead drop to the pillow again.

“That bad, huh?” A hand landed on his shoulder, fingers gently nudging the fine down of his trapezius. “Can you fold your wings?”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. Scott was right. Remove the weight of his wings and then attempt the rest.

Movement hurt. The next day was always the worst. Adrenalin gone, abused muscles stiff, bruises fully realised. He grit his teeth.

But this wasn’t the first time.

He lifted his wings off the pillows Gordon had piled there for him and with a groan that crept out between his teeth, he retracted his wings, folded them, and let them go.

All the breath in his body left with a whoosh and he collapsed back into the bed and closed his eyes.

“Better?”

Virgil’s muffled expletive said everything.

Scott snorted. “Okay. Hold that thought. I’ve got just the thing.”

A breath and Virgil let himself drift.

A gentle touch to his mark startled him.

“Hey, relax. Just a little preening oil. Gordon did your wings last night. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to rub a little on sore muscles.” And with that his brother started running gentle circles all over Virgil’s back. His mark tingled at the contact, but it was safe contact, welcome brotherly care.

Care.

The scent of the bathing oil wafted past his nostrils. Scott knew from his own experience where and what hurt in this situation.

Well, not perhaps this exact situation. Virgil couldn’t recall Scott catching Gordon midair before, but there had been that incident with Allie. Their little brother terrifying them all prematurely grey.

It had been Virgil who had administered the care to Scott that day.

Fingers nudged knots and movement into his muscles. It felt good and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

“Thanks, Scott.”

His brother didn’t stop his ministrations. “Anytime, Virg, you know that.”

There was silence for a while after that, Scott methodically and medically working to rub in the liniment. Virgil knew he should move, get up, find where Gordy was…but he found himself paralysed.

Scott knew exactly what he was doing.

Caring, smotherhen, big brother…

-o-o-o-

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next he knew the sun was high in the sky.

He blinked. Everything was quiet – a very unusual situation for the comms room.

Shaking off most of the fog, he pushed himself into a sitting position and was pleasantly surprised when the pain was minimal. It still hurt, but a good percentage of the stiffness was gone. His skin was ever so soft where his big brother had rubbed in oil.

Standing up proved a little more of a challenge, but he got there and worked several of his muscles until they loosened up.

He felt surprisingly good, despite the aches.

All he needed now was coffee.

He shuffled his way across the hardwood floor in his bare feet and down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Virg! You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Virgil blinked and froze. Gordon, as usual, was far too full of energy first thing in the morning.

“Oh, hell. Coffee. You haven’t had your coffee yet. Sit down, I’ll get you some of your stim juice. Just a moment.”

Gordon started flapping around the kitchen.

Virgil stayed where he was and just stared.

What?

The smell of coffee was suddenly in the air and Virgil felt like floating on it like Pepe Le Pew on a waft of perfume.

“C’mon, Virg, sit down. Coffee’s nearly ready. Want some toast?”

Virgil was notoriously slow in the mornings, but even his morning fog brain could twig something wasn’t right. Gordon was always kind, but this?

“Gordon, what are you doing?”

“Getting you coffee. And breakfast, if you want it.”

His fish brother darted about the kitchen like a guppy swimming in caffeine.

“Gordon?”

“You want sugar?”

“Gordon.”

But his brother wasn’t stopping. With not enough brain cells to work out a different strategy, Virgil resorted to putting himself directly in his brother’s path and grabbing him. “Gordon, stop.”

“What? Why?”

Virgil sighed. It was all too much before coffee. He pulled his brother into a hug. A tight one.

“I’m okay, Gords.”

His brother’s response was muffled against Virgil’s shoulder. Gordon struggled against his hold, so Virgil let him go.

Gordon flung himself away. “Aaargh! You don’t have a shirt on, Virg. Bare skin much?” He stared at his hands. “And oily. Ergh.”

Virgil snorted. “Sorry.” He bit back a grin, but soon lost the fight and ended up chuckling at the expression on his little brother’s face.

Gordon screwed that face up in disgust. “That’s it, you can get your own coffee.”

“Will do.” He reached out and ruffled the fish’s hair.

Gordon batted him away. “Get’orff.”

Virgil sighed, smiling. “Thanks, Gords.”

The fish froze, staring. Something stirred in his eyes. “Anytime, Virg.” He swallowed. “Always.”

Virgil softened even more. “Same.”

They stared at each other a moment longer only for it to be broken by the chime of the coffee machine.

“Ooh, I dare not stand between you and your coffee.” He backed away and then around Virgil as if he was an explosive.

Virgil rolled his eyes and beelined for the coffee machine, because coffee. When he turned around, beverage of the gods in hand, Gordon was gone.

And the warmth in Virgil’s heart had nothing to do with the mug in his hand.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #FishTank #comfort fic

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awkwardspontaneity · 3 years ago

Text

Battle for the Sky

Link x GN!Sheikah!Reader

Part 4 of Memories of You

Prev | Next

Summary: Link and Y/n are called to Rito Village when a dark beast has taken over Vah Medoh and Y/n’s biggest fear finally comes to light.

AN: I finally finished this part. May have gone a touch overboard with this one it’s like 2500 words. I just had a lot of fun writing the battle and the characters. Its got a lot of fighting and mayybe a teensy bit of angst. I rlly like Revali so I had to feature him. bit of gore so just a warning

regular= present italic= memory

Link stood atop Revali’s Landing, eyes closed as he enjoyed the cool breeze. There was so much to do before he could save Zelda, but after having to sneak through the Yiga hideout and his fight to free Vah Nabooris he relished this quiet moment. Even if it was only a few minutes under the light of the moon, he would take the time to think.

So many memories were coming back in a jumbled mess. Like pouring the pieces of a puzzle out of the box. But he hadn’t been given the full picture yet. So much of who he was was in those few precious moments he had with his friends, all he wanted was to have that back. At the very least he wished to remember those he had lost 100 years ago when calamity struck.

And yet, a part of him almost didn’t want to remember. The more he recalled his friends, the more he was reminded that because of his failures they had been lost. Trapped within their Divine Beasts with no escape for 100 years. Forced to watch as the very things they were supposed to use for protection wreaked havoc across their beloved homes. Maybe Revali had been right about him not being up to the task.

Revali.

The last time he had come to the Rito Village had been for a monster attack on Vah Medoh too hadn’t it.

“Impressive, I know.”

Revali hovered softly before landing on the railing. A smirk stretched across his beak as he looked down at Link. Although this level of bravado was normal for the Rito warrior, Link suspected he was playing up his capabilities in response to their presence.

“Very few can achieve mastery of the sky.” So this was how the trip would be then. “Yet I have made an art of creating an updraft that allows me to soar. It’s considered to be quite the masterpiece of aerial techniques, even among the Rito”

At this point Link was discreetly looking for Y/n. They had said something about asking the village chief for the key to Medoh before running off and leaving him alone. He was sure that they had done this to avoid Revali’s complaints. Still, Link wished they would hurry and save him. Revali responded better when they were present. Or at least, he was more capable of tolerating Link with Y/n around to deflect conflicts.

“Now then,” Revali hopped down from his perch, drawing Link’s attention back to him, “my ability to explore the firmament is certainly of note, but let’s not- pardon me for being so blunt- let’s not forget that I am the most skilled archer of all the Rito. Yet despite these truths, it seems that I have been tapped to merely assist you. All because you happen to have that little darkness- sealing sword on your back.”

Link looked down with a clenched jaw. Hylia he wished Y/n would come save him.

“There you are!” He felt a breath escape him at Y/n’s call. There was only so much of the Rito warrior’s ego one could put up with.

Y/n skipped over to stand beside Link and gave the two Champions a grin, “I got Medoh’s key from the chief so if the two of you are ready, we should head up.”

Recali scoffed at the smaller Sheikah, waving his wing in a dismissive manner, “There’s no such need for the two of you to board Medoh. As a matter of fact your presence here is quite redundant, so why don’t you run along back to the princess like the good little hero’s you are.”

Link stepped forward to stop Revali from taking off but was stopped by Y/n placing a hand on his arm. “If you’re flying off to the archery range to get in more practice you can meet us back here. We’re fully prepared to wait until you feel ready.”

“Excuse me?”

“The chief told me you haven’t been able to enter Medoh for nearly a week due to this monster.”

“I assure you I can kill it on my own.”

Y/n sighed, reaching out to carefully lay a hand on Revali’s wing. “We only want to help. There’s no shame in working alongside your comrades. Besides, consider it a favour from us for your future help in defeating Ganon.”

“I suppose, I have no choice.” The Rito warrior hardly looked pleased with them forcing his hand, er, wing. The feathers on his neck were ruffled up as the trio looked tensely at the flying beast above. “I’m sure that even if I were to fly off at this moment, the two of you would still go on up to Vah Medoh and end up getting thrown over the sides.”

Y/n let out a nervous laugh at his snide remark and Link found himself wondering if the tightness in their voice was due to Revali being correct in his assumptions… or maybe something else.

------

Link and Y/n appeared on top of Vah Medoh in a swirl of blue light. They were swiftly met by Revali pushing them to stay hidden. He was quick to explain the winged beast, how it crawled across Medoh with sprawling legs. Y/n had mused about winged octopi only to be flicked on the head by Revali.

As the trio emerged from their hiding spot the two Hylians found Revali had not given nearly enough detail on the horrific creature. It was as large as he had described, with muscled legs sprawling across the wings of the Divine Beast. Its body resembled a Lynel, thick arms ending in sharp claws. Possibly the most terrifying thing were the wings sprouting from its back. They were dark and feathered, each one dripping with malice that ran down its body before piling across the ground like muddy footprints.

Link heard Y/n draw in a sharp breath as they crept along the edge in their approach. He reached out to place a hand between their shoulder blades, a simple motion they had developed in their journeys to signal they were with the other. Whether in physical danger or an uncomfortable situation, they would handle things together. He wasn’t sure how much comfort he could offer at this moment, but he’d make due with the promise to be by their side. Even if he was worried about the feeling of their shallow breaths against his hand.

After carefully making their way to the center terminal of the Divine Beast, Revali gave a quick signal before crouching to take off. As the wind picked up around the Rito, Y/n took in a breath before squeezing Link’s wrist and darting out from their hiding spot.

“HEY SLIMEBALL!!”

Apparently that was extremely offensive to the beast because as soon as it located the small Sheikah it tore off after them. Y/n sprinted away sending a wink as they passed the terminal and Link. Y/n reached the first pillar and slid to a stop behind it right in time to take cover from the bomb arrows exploding against the creature's torso. Mangled wings came up to protect the beast from further blasts giving Link the opportunity to lunge forward and strike down its legs. He managed to slash through two of the muscular appendages before the creature let out a screech and spread its wings, and with them, an attack of razor sharp feathers.

Y/n had come out from their spot behind the pillar, luckily just in time to slash a feather in half before it could hit Link. The duo exchanged grins before taking off to continue their plan. Y/n would lead the beast away with their faster speeds while Revali would circle above, waiting for the moment when the Sheikah would twist the monster around pillars where he could strike it with a volley of bomb arrows. Then while it wrapped itself in its wings for protection, Link would unleash a flurry rush, slashing away at its legs until they disappeared in a haze of dark smoke.

They pulled off their barrage of attacks until the final leg dissipated giving it one option.

To fly.

Fortunately, they had planned for this, and Revali struck the creature before it could get far. It crashed to the ground with such a force, it shook the entire Divine Beast in the sky. Y/n let out a scream as they lost their balance, reaching out to grab the pillar they stood beside. He knew he had a goal to complete but, as he slashed away at the fallen creature, all Link could think about was how he wanted to rush to his friend's side.

The creature seemed to sense Link’s hesitation because it began to spasm, forcing Link to jump back. It seized the moment and took off into the skies screeching as Revali circled too close.

“We must finish this quickly!” Revali dove closer to the two champions, being mindful of the writhing beast in the skies. “That thing is getting desperate, and I only have so many arrows left.”

Link gave him a terse nod as he rushed over to Y/n who was still pressed against the pillar.

“Y/n.” Only a small hum escaped them, although there was a comfort in the way they leaned into his touch. “Y/n, I don't know what’s going on in your head right now, but we need you. Revali’s almost out of arrows and I don’t think I can take it down alone.”

Their hand curled around his, shaky but tight. “I’m okay.” He was sure neither of them believed the grin that pulled at their lips. “Its wings are the only thing it has left to attack with, right? Keep its attention and I’ll take them out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have to be.”

He nodded, although his expression betrayed his concern, something Y/n took note of. They smiled softly, albeit weakly, and out their forehead against his. “Relax Hero, we can do this.”

Link sighed softly, pressing his head against theirs with a little more force. They pulled away sharing nervous grins before Link took off.

Fortunately, the beast had been distracted by launching feathers at Revali, who had been swooping around it with practised expertise. Link gave a shout to signal he was ready for Revali to shoot down the monster and, with an audible scoff, the Rito notched his arrows.

With a thunderous crash the beast landed on Medoh once again and, fighting the urge to look back at Y/n, Link rushed forward with his sword drawn. Link slashed and chopped away at the creature's muscular arms, trying to force it to spread its wings. It took longer than he had hoped for with far too many close calls before wings spread, throwing sludge along with it. If it weren’t for the glint off Y/n’s twin blades, Link almost wouldn’t have seen the young Sheikah sprint past. Before the monster could register their presence, Y/n had hopped from its arm, up to the shoulder, and flipped over to land on its back.

What came next was a flurry of silver blades and the tearing of malice dripping flesh. The monster attempted to rear back and reach Y/n with its arms but it was stopped by Revali and Link each attacking an arm, preventing it from being able to knock off their partner.

With a final flourish, Y/n thrust both blades between the beast's wings. A harrowing shriek escaped the beast as it trembled from the blow. The malice surrounding it began to bubble and swell up. With a grunt, Y/n placed a foot against its back and tore their blades free. They looked up at Link with a grin but, just as they opened their mouth to shout, the monster exploded.

The moment Link uncovered his face, he was met with the sight of Y/n sliding off the edge of Vah Medoh. Link took off as fast as he could, watching as they scrambled for a grip along the edges but came up with nothing. Link hit the ground, sliding towards them with an outstretched hand. The two made eye contact and Link’s heart twisted at the terror within their ruby eyes. He felt their fingertips touch before Y/n was gone, their desperate cry as they slid over the edge carrying across the wind.

Link stared at his empty hand. He would have thrown himself over the edge after Y/n had he not seen the flash of blue following Revali as he shot after the Sheikah like an arrow from his bow.

The moments Link lay there waiting for Revali to return were spent forcing himself to breath while his lungs were crushed under the weight of guilt. He could still feel his fingertips brushing against Y/n’s. See the expression of fear that had torn the grin from their face as they cried out.

Wind swirled around Link, forcing him to sit up as Revali soared past him. The Rito landed on Medoh and, in a surprisingly tender moment, laid a wing upon the Sheikah warrior clinging to him like a koala.

Link was quick to approach the two, getting a glimpse of the way Y/n’s brow furrowed as they hid their face in Revali’s feathered chest. Noticing the way Link watched the two, Revali scoffed before grabbing at Y/n’s arms. “You’re not falling anymore, you can stop tugging at my feathers.”

Y/n mumbled an apology as they shakily detached themselves and stepped to the ground. They managed a wobbly grin that was interrupted by Link crashing into them. Y/n let out the faintest sob as they buried themselves deeper into his arms. Link tightened his grip, carefully pressing his nose into their hair. The two heroes held each other tightly, hoping to ground themselves in the other. To remind themselves that they were together still.

“Ahem.” The bubble popped around the two heroes as Revali looked on in barely hidden irritation. He tapped his talons against Medoh, sighing as the two looked at him with wide eyes. “As wonderful as it is that we are all, in fact, alive. I would appreciate it if you could use whatever it is you brought to seal away that creature.”

“Right.” Y/n stepped towards the terminal, Link’s hand still held tightly in their own. They pulled a seal from one of their pouches before mumbling a few phrases. Deep violet tendrils of malice swirled around, collecting in front of Y/n. The seal they held began to glow blue, spreading its own tendrils of light outwards. The lights seemed to dance through the air around them. Gathering together until they spiraled into the paper seal in Y/n’s hands.

“That should be it. Now can we please get off this bird?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

#breath of the wild x reader #breath of the wild link x reader #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #loz x reader #reader has sheikah features like hair and eyes #awkwardspontaneity #memories of you series #botw x reader #botw link x reader

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purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH15

This section has a lot of moving parts, and a few surprises in store for our resident mean girls ;)

Previous First Next AO3

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

Chapter 15: Irresistible

Marinette stared across the street with a pensive frown, arms crossed, fingers tapping. She couldn’t bring herself to do it last night, partially because she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Even now, she still didn’t believe it was real, but as Gabrielle served coffee and sweets to patrons in broad daylight, there was no mistaking it.

Gabrielle had a job.

None of it made sense. Why was someone like her working at a café? Was it punishment? Did her parents want her to get the sense of what the “commoners” had to put up with to keep her humble? HA! As if. Maybe it was a publicity stunt. Rich heiress works relatable day job. Rich people were always trying to seem relatable.

Marinette pursed her lips, equally as confused as she was when her old classmates believed every word out of Lila’s mouth. Something else was going on. Gabrielle wore a polite smile for customers, but it didn’t touch her eyes. She looked… tired. It was the same look on every businessman’s face when they came into the bakery before work—exhaustion from the persistent grind of a monotonous routine. Whatever the reason was, Gabrielle had been there a while.

Mustering up her courage, Marinette took a deep breath and cautiously approached the café. She slipped through the front door, peering around at the other patrons, though Gabrielle was nowhere in sight. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? No, she’d definitely seen her. She was probably in the back. Should Marinette wait? What was she even going to say?

“Can I help you?” a stern-looking man behind the counter asked.

Marinette jumped. “Uh, I was just looking for someone…”

“If you’re not ordering, then get out.” He looked every bit as capable of throwing her out if necessary. Marinette understood why Gabrielle looked so exhausted with a manager this mean.

“I-I’ll have a coffee, please. Two creams, one sugar.” She dug out the correct amount of change and dumped it into his hand.

The man grunted in response before turning over his shoulder. “One up!”

Marinette flicked her gaze to the back door, but it remained shut. The manager sighed, stalking to the back with his hands on his hips.

“I’m just gonna go sit…” Marinette gestured to a table with her thumb.

A few moments later the door opened, and a tall girl slinked over to the coffee machine. Her hair was tucked inside of her cap, pulled low over her face. Marinette craned her neck to watch, but Gabrielle turned her back purposefully to hide her face. When the drink was finished, she placed it on the front counter and attempted to retreat to the back, but the manager cleared his throat, pointing to the table where Marinette sat. She let out a sigh before retrieving the drink from the counter and walking it over herself.

“One coffee.” She set it on the table with more force than necessary and turned over her shoulder quickly. “Enjoy.”

“Wait.” Marinette held out a hand. “Can I get an extra packet of sugar?”

Gabrielle’s shoulders stiffened, hands clenching into fists. She pointed to the supply stand across the room before retreating to the back, mumbling to her manager that she was going to take her break.

It seemed as though she wouldn’t be resurfacing any time soon, so Marinette pulled out her sketchbook and headphones, occasionally sipping her drink. She wasn’t going to let Gabrielle get away without explaining herself, especially after what happened last week. There was more to her than met the eye, and Marinette was going to get to the bottom of it. Gabrielle knew she wasn’t fooling anyone, so it was only a matter of time before she fessed up.

After a while, a green apron appeared at her table, and a perfectly manicured hand refilled her cup from the kettle.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

Murderous green eyes glared through Marinette, but she sipped her coffee calmly.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Gabrielle’s grip tightened on the handle, and Marinette had no doubt that it was taking all of her willpower to remain professional, lest she incur the wrath of her surly manager.

“Fine. You caught me. I… work here.” She cringed at the word as if it were painful to say. “Congrats, you want a picture so you can show everyone at school?”

“No.” Marinette shook her head. “I want to know why.”

“None of your business.” Gabrielle snapped. Marinette shrugged, taking a sip of her drink while Gabrielle tapped her foot contemplatively. “Fine, but not out here.”

Marinette yelped when Gabrielle pulled her up, scrambling to grab her things as she was dragged to the back. Kicking open the door to the small employee bathroom, Gabrielle shoved her inside and pulled the door shut behind them. She covered her face, taking a few deep breaths before lowering her hands to glare at Marinette.

“I work here because my family is bankrupt.” She choked on the word, covering her mouth. “My dad’s an idiot, and now his businesses are failing, investors are pulling out. Three generations of wealth is drying up. They told the manager I was 16, so I can help pay for school.”

Marinette’s eyebrows raised in shock, and she gaped in silence as Gabrielle took deep breaths. “How long have you been here?”

“Since the summer.” Gabrielle leaned against the sink. “And I’m probably going to die here one day. Once news gets out, we’re going to be the laughingstock of the town. No one in their right mind will hire me to do anything worthwhile. I’m gonna be stuck serving coffee to poor people forever.”

Marinette almost pointed out that Gabrielle was one of those “poor people” now, but it didn’t seem like the time. Besides, she stood between Marinette and the exit, so goading her wasn’t in Marinette’s best interest if she hoped to get out of there alive.

Even still, seeing how broken and miserable Gabrielle was… Marinette couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Just because she picked on everyone at school didn’t mean Marinette wished the worst for her. She couldn’t imagine having everything ripped away from her and being forced to work a job she hated. For the first time since moving to her new school, Marinette was the most fortunate one in the room.

Reaching out a reluctant hand, Marinette attempted to touch her shoulder, but Gabrielle shook her off. “I don’t need your pity!” she growled. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You’re just gonna go run and tell your little do-gooder squad and spread it around school.”

“I won’t,” Marinette promised, and when Gabrielle glared again, she added, “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Why? I more than deserve it after how I’ve treated you and your stupid little friends,” she said.

“It’s not my secret to tell.” Marinette shrugged.

“Wow, you really are stupid.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, the hints of a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, I guess. I really don’t deserve that from you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Gabrielle pursed her lips before reaching out to pat Marinette’s shoulder awkwardly. She averted her gaze and turned to the door, though her hand hesitated on the handle.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I come from a very messed up world, and up until a few months ago, I thought that it would always be my world. It’s been hard.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “Ya know, sometimes when I see people like you, I wish it were me. I wish I knew how to be nice.” She opened the door and stalked out, leaving Marinette alone in stunned silence.

“Whoa,” Marinette said. “I thought she was being punished by her parents, but bankrupt.”

“That explains why she backed down so easily whenever you challenged her,” Tikki piped up from her bag.

“I guess it is true when they say that you don’t really know someone.” Marinette winced.

“Maybe you can become her friend and teach her how to be nice. That way she can make new friends in the future,” Tikki suggested, but Marinette let out a mocking laugh.

“Oh no, I got my answer, so I’m going to forget this ever happened. I think it’s what Gabrielle wants. Besides, it’s not my job to go around fixing every broken person I come across. Look how well that went with Lila,” Marinette said pointedly.

“I think you’re wrong about what Gabrielle wants, and while it might not be your job, I think you can’t help yourself,” Tikki said.

“Of course I can. Watch.” Marinette gently pushed her back down with one finger before strutting out of the bathroom and all the way out the front door, though her bravado was short-lived when another familiar set of green eyes flashed her a taunting grin.

Lila.

Marinette froze in her tracks, heart taking off into a sprint. A range of emotions bubbled in her core—anger, fear, sorrow, regret. It had been over a month since Marinette left, and despite her best efforts to move on from her old life, Lila could dig up all of her past hurt with one sinister smile.

She sat at an outside table, patiently sipping her drink. Her posture was relaxed, purposeful, and a bit too smug for Marinette’s liking. This was no coincidence. Lila had been waiting.

“Marinette, it’s good to see you,” she said with a sugary sweet lilt.

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.” Marinette’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying some coffee.” She lifted her cup as proof. “Now, did I stop here because I saw you walk in? Well, that’s debatable.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lila said innocently. “I was just taking a break from a long day with my best friends. They all just love me, especially Alya.”

“Good for you,” Marinette said. She brushed past her, but Lila wasn’t finished.

“Even Adrien has been paying attention to me lately. He’s like a strand of pasta, you know? He thinks he’s so tough when in reality he breaks so easily,” she cooed. “If you put a little heat on him, he’ll bend to your will in minutes.”

Marinette stopped in her tracks, hands clenching into fists. “Adrien knows you’re a liar,” she said. “If you push him, he’ll tell everyone the truth.”

“Maybe, but no one else will believe him if he tries to out me. I think he realizes that. It won’t be long before he gives up and conforms. He really can’t stand to lose all of his friends like you did.” She leaned against her fist with a smirk. “It won’t be long before I take him from you too, Marinette.”

Marinette spun around, angry tears welling in her eyes and a sharp retort on her lips, but Gabrielle appeared to refill Lila’s cup. She surveyed Marinette’s tortured expression before trailing the coffee stream across the table into Lila’s lap.

“Hey, watch it!” Lila shrieked, jumping up.

“Oops!” Gabrielle pressed a hand to her lips as Lila wiped at her romper. “Sorry I’m a little clumsy. I’m still training.”

“Ugh, you’re lucky this time, Marinette, but don’t think that this is over!” Lila growled. She grabbed her bag and stalked off.

Marinette and Gabrielle stood together in silence before one of them inevitably cracked, and they both threw their heads back with laughter.

“Thank you,” Marinette said. “That was… nice of you.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Don’t get any ideas. That was for your discretion,” she said.

She turned her head, but not in time to hide her flushed cheeks. Marinette hated to admit it, but Tikki was right. Sometimes she couldn’t help herself.

♪♫♪ Turn Off the Lights ♪♫♪

“Have you thought about what I asked last time?” Adrien asked.

Chloe chewed her sushi slowly, purposefully leaving him in anticipation. He really hated how sadistic she was, especially when it wasted his time. Consorting with Chloe made his skin crawl, but after Marinette called to tell him about her encounter that afternoon, he couldn’t wait any longer. If he knew anything about Chloe, it was that she’d do anything for expensive sushi.

“You really have fallen down quite the rabbit hole, Adrikins,” she said, sounding impressed. “First you threaten to blackmail me if I don’t help you, now you’re bribing me. I always knew I’d rub off on you eventually.”

“Look, this isn’t about petty revenge or whatever you normally do,” he said. “Lila is dangerous, and she needs to be stopped.”

“I seem to recall a time when I asked for your help, and you didn’t come through for me.” Chloe examined another piece of sushi thoughtfully. “If it were anyone else in the world, I’d have laughed in their face when they asked for help. You’re lucky we’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Adrikins.”

“I know I messed up. I’m sorry.” He lowered his gaze. “I learned my lesson.”

“Good. With your silly little conscience out of the way, we can actually get some real work done,” Chloe said. “I do have a few ideas for you, but…”

“But what?”

Chloe leaned against her fist with a wicked grin. “I need to test your loyalty. If you’re going to lie down with the dogs, you can’t be afraid to get dirty, so I need to know you’re capable of breaking the rules.”

A chill prickled his spine, and Adrien shifted in his seat. “What kind of rules?”

“See? This is why I have trust issues, Adrikins.”

He sighed, squaring his shoulders and facing her head-on. “Okay, fine. I’m in.”

“Excellent.” Chloe clapped for her butler, then pulled Adrien to his feet. “Your father thinks you’re helping me with my science homework tonight, but you and I both know Sabrina has already done it. I threatened my way into a party uptown, and you’re coming with me.”

“But-”

“Ah, ah!” Chloe held up a finger. “Prove to me you have what it takes. Break the rules.”

Adrien’s stomach churned as Chloe dragged him down to her waiting limo. When he’d come to her for help, he anticipated having to push his conscience aside to get what he wanted. To make a deal with the devil, he had to be willing to sell his soul, and sneaking out to a party across town was page one of their contract. It would all be worth it in the end. For Marinette’s happiness, he’d sell his soul a thousand times. He was already clutching the pen—Chloe just needed to show him where to sign.

♪♫♪ Pretty Places ♪♫♪

“Marinette! There’s someone here to see you!” Her mother called up the stairs that evening.

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed. Who would visit at this hour? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Adrien had piano practice. Macy had vocal lessons. Eliott and Martin were having some “guy time” whatever that meant. All of her friends were previously engaged, so who was waiting for her downstairs?

She set aside her knitting and slowly made her way to the living room. Whoever she expected to find didn’t compare at all to the tall red-head standing in the doorway.

“Gabrielle?” Her jaw dropped. “What are-”

“Is your room up here?” She pointed, quirking a perfectly-plucked brow. When Marinette nodded, Gabrielle took her wrist and dragged her back up the stairs.

“What-” Marinette gaped as Gabrielle shut the trap door and dusted her hands. “What is happening?”

“Get dressed.” Gabrielle ordered, but when Marinette remained frozen, she rolled her eyes and added, “We’re going to a party. Get dressed.”

“We’re what?” Marinette asked as Gabrielle threw her closet open and began digging through the rack.

“The son of one of my dad’s golfing buddies is throwing a party at their mansion tonight, and we’re going,” Gabrielle said. She sifted through hangers until she found a shirt and tossed it at Marinette. “Put that on.”

“Wh-”

“Do you know how to put on a shirt? Or does your mom dress you every morning?” Gabrielle looked her up and down.

“I know how to put on a shirt,” Marinette replied matter-of-factly. “I’m just confused. Are we friends now or-?”

“Gross, no.” Gabrielle wrinkled her nose and moved over to the dresser as Marinette turned her back to change.

“So, if we’re not friends, then what are we?” she asked as Gabrielle examined a pair of black jeans.

She lowered them, a thoughtful expression on her face before she shrugged and tossed them at Marinette too. “I can’t party with my old crew without risking them finding out my secret, but you on the other hand are stupid enough not to tell anyone despite how delicious it would be to watch my world crumble after I was so mean to you,” she explained while rummaging through Marinette’s shoes. “So, I’m settling for you tonight.”

“Thanks?” Marinette tilted her head to the side. “I think.”

“Where’s your makeup?” Gabrielle asked. When Marinette retrieved a small pouch from her vanity, Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed. “Ugh, this is all you have?”

“I don’t wear a lot of makeup,” Marinette said defensively.

“If I weren’t broke, I’d buy you a proper makeup collection, but we’ll work with what we have for now.” She tucked it under her arm. “Come on. We’ll do your makeup in the car.”

“We- wait!” Marinette called as Gabrielle descended the stairs.

“Hi, sweetie, is this one of your new friends?” her mom asked as Marinette scrambled after Gabrielle. They exchanged glances, and Gabrielle gave her a stern look.

“Uh, yeah. She’s one of my classmates,” Marinette said.

“Gabrielle Burton, it’s nice to meet you, madame,” she said in the politest tone Marinette had ever heard from her. “We’re meeting up with a group of friends to see a movie. Do you mind if I steal her for the evening? My driver will bring her home afterward.”

“Of course, you girls go have fun,” her mom said.

Gabrielle didn’t wait for Marinette to respond before taking her wrist.

“Uh, bye, mom!” Marinette called over her shoulder.

Marinette blinked a few times as Gabrielle shoved her into the back of a town car, and the driver headed uptown. Gabrielle turned her chin with one finger, shaking the foundation bottle in the other hand.

“Close your eyes,” she ordered. When Marinette hesitated, she added, “Relax, I’m not going to make you look ugly. I’d never be seen arriving with someone who looks like a wannabe beauty guru.”

Marinette pursed her lips but relented, allowing Gabrielle to make her over on the drive. Several times Gabrielle grumbled about her limited options, stating several expensive products that would have worked better. Nevertheless, she attained some level of satisfaction because she instructed Marinette to open her eyes and look in the mirror.

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyebrows raised. Her makeup never looked half this good when she did it herself—a skilled hand made all the difference. She peeked up at Gabrielle applying her own lip gloss and pursed her lips. “So, what kind of party is this?”

“Relax, goody-two-shoes, the most exciting thing at this party is wine. My parents don’t let me go to trashy parties.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, removing her large trench coat to reveal a sparkly black dress with mesh cutouts along the waist. “Just try not to act too lowbrow, okay? Don’t embarrass me.”

“I’ll do my best?” Marinette said as they pulled up to the front steps.

“Great.” Gabrielle tossed her compact into her purse and kicked open the door. “Oh, and just because we’re arriving together does not mean you are allowed to socialize with me here. Don’t hang off me like a sad little koala. Go dance and have fun with other people.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we’re friends,” Marinette said.

“Exactly. I’m so glad you understand.”

Marinette took in the towering mansion with wide eyes, twirling around in the foyer to catch all of the detail work. She’d been hanging out with her new friends for almost a month, but she still wasn’t quite used to such luxurious mansions.

“Cut it out! You act like you’ve never seen crown molding before,” Gabrielle hissed. She closed Marinette’s jaw with her finger. “Just be normal.”

“Yes, because this is so normal.” Marinette gestured to the marble statue fountain in the middle of the foyer, and Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

“It is for these people. Now get away from me.” She spun Marinette around and pushed her toward the sitting room where various groups of people were chatting over hor d’oeurves before retreating to the living room dancefloor.

Marinette stumbled several feet, bumping into someone’s back and falling onto her butt.

“Sorry!” She rubbed her head, but the warm green eyes staring down at her held no contempt. “Adrien?”

#mdcsp #mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #my writing #cats ocs

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whipped-cream-writings · 4 years ago

Text

WC: 3.2k

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x Reader

Requested by @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku!

Genre: Angst/Fluff

TW: Toxic family, cursing

A/N: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written and I had so much fun writing it! I hope you like it too :D

The news is a fickle thing.

No matter how big an affair would be featured on the headline, it would always be replaced the next day.

Possibly worst of all, the news would spawn rumors. And those rumors would grow and burn through the kingdom, with each retelling falling further and further from the truth.

The servants of the castle would tell you these rumors. Never to your face, of course - some of them shook when you got too close to them. But during their duties, they would spread these strange, twisted rumors from one person to the next.

The royal advisor would tell you, your mother, and your father the news. Most days would be boring, plain, forgetful, even. But news was news, no matter how interesting rumors may be.

But today, the royal advisor ran into the throne room, sweat dripping down his face.

“A thief! There’s a thief!”

The rumors were true.

“Do you forget who you’re talking to?” Your father seethes between his teeth.

“N-no! Of course not, your highness. Forgive me.” The advisor begins to tremble, and he doubles over, groveling at the King’s feet.

You hate that satisfaction you see in the King's eyes.

In your father's eyes.

“Rise. There’s a thief?”

“Yes, your majesty!”

“Where has he been spotted?”

“The houses of the nobles. They’ll return home to find their house completely undisturbed, yet all of their riches and valuables will be gone. In their place, this is all that’s left.” He passes a slip of paper forward, and the king takes it gingerly. You peek from your throne, disregarding the sharp glare your mother gives you.

The paper is almost barren. There’s only a single letter, written with flair: H.

A strange signature for a thief, you think.

“The nobles have enough money to buy back what was stolen.” The queen says smoothly, her tone sharp and refined. “Why should this concern us?”

“Because, your highness, the thief seems to be getting closer and closer to the castle by the day. He started on the outskirts of the kingdom, but he’s steadily moving inward.”

Despite yourself, you blurt out, “Are there any-”

“Silence. Ignore them.” He turns to you only moments later. “You are only to listen. Besides, you have more pressing issues.”

You bite your tongue and fall back into your throne.

The golden chair is cold, and it's much too big. Just sitting in it makes you feel like your parents.

You hate that feeling.

“Spread the guards all across the castle,” He demands, “Have two remain outside each of our quarters at all times. Give them orders to restrain any who they don’t recognize.”

“Of course, your majesty. I’ll send the word.” The advisor scurries off, his hands still shaking.

“You shouldn’t be too worried about this, my dear.” Your mother speaks in a sickly sweet tone that makes dread settle in the pit of your stomach. “You have to choose a suitor sooner or later.”

“She’s correct. It was not your place to intervene.”

“My apologies.” You grumble. “Forgive me for being invested in the wellbeing of the citizens.”

Your father tch-s at you. “You are not the ruler of this kingdom yet.

“Never forget who is in charge.”

Another night, another suitor appears before you.

Perhaps you hated this one the most.

His words were sweet, yet laced with venom, and he regarded you in a light that wasn’t human in the slightest. He sang about love and how he knew you were the one, yet his words were meaningless once he became drunk on the thoughts of even more power.

You turned him down, as you had with the twenty-three other suitors your father had chosen.

“I quite liked him. Charming, handsome, a prince... He had it all.” The queen side-eyes you. “Tell me, why did you turn him down?”

“He was a fool. And a bastard.” You smirk dryly.

“Do not speak in such a vulgar manner.” Your father's eyes flash. “He was a perfectly fine young man.”

“He looked at me as if I were nothing more than meat!”

“Will you turn everyone down?” The queen hisses. “You have a duty to marry. Love is never involved.”

Your father agrees, and your heart sinks into your stomach.

The king releases a drawn-out sigh. “You will be marrying the man I see fit for you.”

His words feel like a slap to the face.

“You said I'd have a choice!”

“You’ve had twenty three choices. You’re out of time.”

“Maybe you should find better suitors that don’t see me as a pawn in their little game!”

“I’ve chosen the best of the best, you spoiled brat!”

There’s a delicate silence after his words. His breaths are heavy, and the weight of his words slowly sink onto his shoulders.

“Stay out of my sight until dawn.” His voice is soft, yet goosebumps rise on your arms.

But you comply.

You drag yourself up the stairs and into your room, locking the door behind you. It wasn’t the first time he had called you a brat, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last, yet, your lip quivers as soon as you’re alone.

Maybe it was that look in his eyes - that fire of pure hate that he saved only for his greatest enemies - that made you so upset.

You doubted you would ever know.

The castle feels unbearable. It wasn't the first time it had felt this way, but this was the first time it had started to crush you. The family pictures feel meaningless. Hollow.

So you grab your cloak and face the window.

With rope that you had stolen from the barracks and anticipation building in your stomach, the moon beams at you as you descend the castle walls and retreat into the town.

When you were younger, you saw the town only through carriages and the windows of your room. That was before the castle became the place you hated more than anything in the world.

But now, walking among the people under the darkness of the night, walking as no more than a civilian, you wished you had started making these escapes sooner.

Laughter filled the air where there would be tense silence. Singing and dancing would replace stiff, robotic movements. Fighting and teasing and pure, contagious joy spreads a fluffy warmth through your chest.

For once a day, in the darkest hours of the twilight, you were free.

You stop by the restaurant that you visited every night. The woman there was lovely - with short chestnut locks and pink cheeks, she greets you with that bright smile she seemed to save just for you once again.

“You want to try the next thing on the menu?” She giggles when you nod excitedly. “Coming up!” You drop the money on the counter and thank her, sliding into one of the empty seats.

“Excuse me.” A weary voice asks. “Is this seat taken?”

You turn around and see a pale man talking to you. He has wild tufts of lavender hair, unlike any shade you’ve ever seen. His eyes are violet too, and there are dark bags under them.

He’s... attractive, in a black cat kind of way.

You shake your head and snap out of your daze. “Uh, no. Go ahead.”

He smiles and settles into the empty seat. “Thanks, your majesty.”

“It’s nothing-” You cut yourself off, and his smile becomes a smirk. “Is it... Is it that obvious?”

“Not really,” He says, “It was a good call coming out here at night, though. You would’ve been caught within seconds if it were during the day.”

You sigh. “Well then, stranger, how could you tell?”

“You look at everything like you’re amazed. And call me Shinso, your highness.” A small smile grows on your face.

“It really is amazing, especially compared to the castle. And please stop with the formalities. I’ve come to hate them.”

“Fair enough. I mean, it would be a little fun to have people kneeling at your feet at first, but it probably gets tiring.”

“Very.” You sigh. “So, what brings you around here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Plus, I’m hungry.” He snickers. “What about you?”

“I don’t want to get married.” His eyes go wide, and you can’t help but let out a loud laugh.

“Wow.” A rosy glow spreads across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of the suitors my father has picked out for me are bastards. So now he’s choosing for me and it’s just…”

“A nightmare?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

He winces. “Sounds rough.”

“It could be worse, I suppose.” You sigh.

“The king and queen have always seemed a bit off.” Shinso ponders aloud. “They felt fake.”

“They are,” You reply without hesitation, “They’re insufferable.”

“I can imagine." He sighs and regards you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments. “I would offer for you to hide away at my house or something like that, but I have a feeling the royal family wouldn't take it too well.”

You resist the urge to rub your eyes. He seems genuinely... kind. It feels like you haven't met someone like that in years.

“I wish I could take you up on that offer, really. I’d have to get married first. Then my parents would finally get off of my back.” He nods slowly.

“Well, when’s the wedding?”

You blink. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all.” His satisfied smirk only grows.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll be sure to let you know once I find out.”

“I'll be waiting, your majesty.” He rises from his chair, waving to you as he strolls away. You wave back, trying to resist the growing grin on your face.

It’s only after he’s gone that you realize that he never received his order.

The dawn was supposed to mean new beginnings. It was meant to wipe away the mess of the day before and welcome the mess that would be made today.

The dawn never did that. Not within the castle, at least.

When you exit your quarters and descend the stairs, the king is still fuming, and the queen is still ever so distant. Your “mistake” from yesterday would never be erased, not even by the dawn.

“I’ve selected your suitor.” Your father greets you, his arms folded over his chest. The queen is no more than a shadow behind him.

“Who is he?” You ask, trying to mask the anxiety that eats you alive.

“Patience.” Your mother chides, and you bite your tongue once again.

The king gestured to the frozen guards, and they come to life like puppets, pulling back the door and revealing your future husband.

Your heart sinks.

It’s the man from yesterday.

“As you may recall, this is Prince Monoma,” The king ignores the glare you give him. “There will be a ball celebrating the marriage tomorrow.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” You can catch the smirk on his face when he bows.

It’s nothing like Shinso’s-

Why are you thinking about him right now?

“I look forward to getting to know you.” He stands in front of you and grins at the anger on your face. “My love.”

Oh, how your blood boils.

“Meet with me soon, Monoma. We have much to discuss. And you,” The king’s gaze locks on you, “The queen will help you organize the wedding ceremony.”

As you understood it, the king and queen would have control over everything; the ball and the wedding.

You can’t say you’re too surprised - they had been doing this before you could even talk - yet, somehow, you managed to feel disappointed.

“First, however, we must make the announcement.” The king calls for the advisor, who scurries to his feet like a frightened mouse.

“Draft up the announcement,” He orders, “The heir to the throne has finally found a suitor; Prince Monoma of the Southern Kingdom.”

“A-ah, congratulations, your majesty.” He bows to you and Monoma, who wears a crooked smile. “I'll draft it right away, my liege.” He scrambles away, and you can’t help but feel bad for the poor man.

The document is submitted to the king only an hour later.

In tight clothes and in a crown that looked like the kings’, you stand and listen to your father lie to the citizens. Lie about how the two of you met and had fallen and love. Monoma is beaming and waving to the people, relishing in the praise and support of the crowd.

But your gaze isn’t on Monoma.

It’s on the head of vibrant lavender hair amid the crowd.

You return to the restaurant that night, playing with your hands ever so anxiously. The singing was louder tonight, but the tunes and melodies made your stomach twist and knot. You take your regular seat, but you don’t order, no matter how bright the smile is on the face of the lovely woman behind the counter.

Your hands are trembling. Your father’s voice creeps inside your head - It tells you that you’re pathetic, that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat.

You only realize you’re crying when you see the droplets on the wooden table.

“Good evening, your majesty.” You recognize the speaker’s voice - it's Shinso. You don’t quite trust your voice, but it would be worse to leave him unanswered.

"Hello, Shinso." Your voice shatters, and you chew your lip. Damn.

He slides into the empty seat next to you, regarding you as gently as he can manage. His hands land on your back as he rubs it gently.

"Gods, I’m sorry," You sniffle, rubbing your nose, "It must be annoying to have to deal with me."

"Don’t think like that," he says. "It’s okay to cry. You’re going through a lot. Even if you weren’t, crying never hurt anyone, right?" Hearing that makes you smile softly as you wipe your tears away. They’re quickly replaced with new ones, but the words add a little bit of comfort.

Even if that comfort is only for tonight.

Tomorrow night, you wouldn’t see Shinso. You would be shipped away, dragged along with a man who saw you as no more than a piece in his little game.

But for now, for tonight, you relax into his embrace, and you let the tears fall.

The king and queen set about preparing for the gala, leaving you to yourself for most of the day. The door to your room was locked, and clambering out of the window seemed so tantalizing.

"You would’ve been caught within seconds if it were during the day."

You sigh. Shinso was right, no matter how much you wished otherwise.

So you wait. Like a bird of paradise trapped in a cage, or like a glass doll in a dollhouse, you sit in your room and wait for your mother.

Oh, how the castle feels so suffocating.

But eventually, the click of the lock is heard, and you can see the face of your mother. Her face is soured, making the smile she wears unfitting.

"Put this on. The ball begins in an hour. I expect you to be there on time."

"Where else could I go?" She hums at your words and sets the clothing on the bed before leaving you alone once again. Her heels click against the cobblestone stairs, slowly fading into a deafening silence.

You stare at the outfit she had laid out for you.

It looks like her wedding dress.

Eerily so.

The color scheme is a direct copy, and you suspect the stitches are identical as well. It’s unnerving and it feels ever so purposeful.

As you rub your hands across the delicate fabric (was it silk?), you wonder how far you could make it if you ran into the woods. How long would it take for your father's men to find you if you escaped to another northern kingdom?

But the clinking of iron armor sounds just outside your door. You're forced to resign those fantasies.

The guards lead you down the winding, empty stairs and stop in front of the double doors of the main hall. Behind them, the ball has already begun.

Maids in intricate gowns and men in tight, buttoned-up suits mingle, able to forget class and ranks, if only for tonight.

Was the royal advisor flirting with the owner of that restaurant?

You’re shaken out of your thoughts as your father calls for the attention of the crowd. Prince Monoma falls into place by your side. You fold your arms behind your back and refuse to meet his prodding gaze.

“As you all know, tonight we celebrate the engagement of my child to Prince Neito Monoma of the south. Their marriage will preserve the alliance between our kingdoms for many prosperous, joyous, years to come.” Your father was excellent at speaking out of his ass. “Tonight, we toast to Prince Monoma, and we celebrate.” The crowd erupts in cheers and drinks are raised in your name as well as his.

The sight makes you want to vomit.

Your father gives you a careful look before taking his leave, the queen on his arm.

You separate from Monoma immediately, weaving through the crowds of chattering and dancing guests. You thank those who congratulate you half-heartedly. You just need space. Just a moment to yourself, a moment to breathe and let it all sink in.

You hear your name. It’s a deep, familiar voice.

What’s more, there are no formalities attached.

“Shinso?” You ask. “Why are you-”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” There’s a glint in his eyes that tells you to play along, and you bite your tongue. “I hope this isn’t too rude of me, but would you care to dance?” His smile is playful and his eyes are crinkled with delight.

His smile is contagious.

You nod in agreement, and he takes your hand, leading you towards the center of the room. The stares are accompanied by mutters, but you find that you don’t mind at all.

The music crescendos and Shinso leads your dance. His grip on your waist is rough and he pulls you flush against him.

“Tomorrow’s the wedding, yeah?” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and his breaths are hot against your ear. You shudder and nod weakly. It’s hard to think straight - all of your senses are filled with him.*

He curses under his breath. “We’ll have to make our move tonight, then.” You blink and meet his gaze after he twirls you around.

“You’re actually going to do it?”

“Of course I am. I promised, didn’t I? Besides, Monoma’s kind of an ass.”

You laugh. “So, what’s your plan?”

“You’ll see.” He digs through his pocket and produces a single sheet of paper. It’s almost barren, only one letter on the entire page.

You inhale sharply and he studies the expression you wear.

“Didn’t expect it to be me, huh?”

“I- why are you-”

He smirks. “I sell everything I steal and give the money to people who need it - the homeless, the orphanages, you name it.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You aren’t scared, however - not in the slightest.

His hand rests on your cheek and he wears an almost amused expression. “Your face is burning.” He chuckles.

“I’m… just surprised.” You say. Both of you know you’re lying. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?” You make eye contact with him again, and his gaze softens after a few moments. He sighs, his thumb idly stroking your cheek. Your face burns under his touch, even more so under his gaze.

“A few people do. But... I’m glad to hear that you don’t.” His stare meets yours once again, a newfound fire in his.

"You ready to run away, your majesty?"

#hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha x reader #mha x you #shinsou fluff #shinso x you #shinso x y/n #shinso x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #aaaaa this was so much fun to write!! shinso is such a fun character

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bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 3 years ago

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Chapter 13 - Kolgrimr’s Fury

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

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At some point his mother had stopped beating the drum and after a few minutes he returned from his trance state to reality. His gaze cleared up and he saw Gyda sitting right in front of him. She looked at him relaxed and with a satisfied expression on her face. He listened into himself and felt a previously unknown power within him, it was almost tangible. He smiled at her and nodded impressed. “It worked. I can feel it. Thank you, Mother.”

She briefly stretched out both arms, palms up and said, “What did you expect? It always helped your father up until that day and now it will help you.”

“Yes, indeed. It will help me to get my ...,” he broke off in the middle of the sentence and his face took on a look that was at first astonished, then annoyed. Quite automatically he had let his mind wander and realized that the Arendellians had disappeared from the camp. They had been warned!

“What have you done ...,” he gasped and pulled himself up. He stared at his mother.

“What is it, Kolgrimr? What did you see?”

“They are all gone! Fled because someone warned them! The ritual prevented me from noticing in time. I ...” He clenched his fists and looked at her fiercely, his lips trembled.

She gasped and clapped her hands in front of her mouth. Then she stood up and looked at him sadly, almost pleading. “Kolgrimr, please ... I didn't mean it. Who could have guessed it!”

For seconds they just stood facing them and stared at each other. Then he seemed to have made a decision. One could clearly see it working in his head. “Well, let's do it the other way. It will take longer and have consequences for someone, but I have no choice now. You can prepare yourself for big changes, Mother.”

He angrily grabbed his things and stormed out of the hut. His mother stood there helpless and with her mouth open, staring at the spot where he had just slammed the kota's lid behind him.

~~~

He was furious and roared as he walked through the camp, holding his deadly modified battlestick in front of him. He simply pushed the nearest Northuldra out of the way and moved towards the camp centre.

Many more men and women were already gathering there, startled by Kolgrimr's cries of rage and warning shouts echoing through the camp. Everyone stood there waiting and nervous with their birch wood sticks in their hands and those who didn't have one hurried as fast as they could to their kotas and took it.

Yelana ran up gesticulating and tried to calm her people down. “Stand back! Stay calm, folks.”

Then Kolgrimr stepped onto the small clearing, his burning gaze directed at the leader. The people groaned when they saw him for the first time. So this was Gyda's son and some of the elders here had a deja vu moment as they remembered his father's appearance. Wrapped in his almost black fur coat, he wore a hood with reindeer antlers on his head, and his huge-looking figure loomed threateningly before them.

He pointed angrily at Yelana. “You! You drew everyone's attention and warned them about me. Not only that; you have allowed this brood from Arendelle to enter into our land again and you have also have taken care of them, and treated them as if they were our own people. And then you just let them go!”

“Kolgrimr, calm down, you're making a big mess of things here. They have proved to us that they are our friends and they amended the mistakes of the past. They ...”

“Shut up!” he yelled at her and cut off her word. “They lulled you in, wrapped you around their finger and repeating to you what they did to our old leader. What they did must be avenged!”

“Kolgrimr ...,” she began, but was interrupted by him again.

“You are unworthy to rule us, an illegitimate leader of the People of the Sun and have simply usurped that position. You have betrayed our people and now you will be replaced! My mother will take her rightful position in your place and you will be banished for your deeds.”

Yelana gasped for breath and the mood of the Northuldra tipped behind her. One of the men rumbled, finally becoming enraged, ran angrily towards Kolgrimr with his battlestaff raised against him. But the latter only grinned, and then something began that hadn't happened for ages, a deadly serious battle of the Northuldra against one of their own.

~~~

Honeymaren was already halfway back to the camp when she heard excited voices from there. “What's wrong now?” she muttered and started to run.

Even before she passed the first kotas she heard the roar of an unknown person. She soon realized that this could be only one person. “Kolgrimr!” she exclaimed in horror and stopped so abruptly that she almost tripped over. Her heart began to accelerate and a deep fear seized her suddenly.

What am I going to do; she thought and crept forward carefully, far enough so that she now saw almost all of her people standing together in the clearing, with Yelana at the head. And then she saw Kolgrimr himself and her heart almost stopped at the sight of him.

She had to stand by her people now. Wasn't she the best Skalastet fighter among them? But that also meant that she might very soon find herself in a serious situation between life and death for the first time in her life. She was very afraid and just stood there like paralyzed for seconds. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly to calm down again. Then her decision was made and she crept unnoticed around the crowd and Kolgrimr, towards her kota. Once there she took out her battlestick and moved silently to the hut that was right behind Kolgrimr.

Arriving there, she ducked on the ground and peeked around the corner. A soft noise made her look to the side, startled and she recognized her brother, who moved one hut away towards her, with his battlestick in the crook of his arm. She put a finger in front of her lips. Ryder nodded and now also looked forward to the clearing. Then he looked at her questioningly and she waved him over. When he was with her he whispered, “You're not planning on attacking him from behind all by yourself, are you?”

“What else can I do, little brother, I must stand by them all. But you can be sure that I'm very scared too. This looks like a real fight and it may end badly.”

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“Please be careful, sister, and don't do any of those jumping-up-the-tree-and-hit-up experiments like you did with me. We don't know how good he is with the stick.”

Honeymaren nodded and looked forward again carefully, every tendon in her tensed to breaking.

And then suddenly everything went haywire without any warning.

~~~

Yelana just yelled out loud, “Don't attack him ... stop!” and spread her arms wide to hold her people back, but it was already too late.

Kolgrimr levered up his attacker's battlestick and kicked him so hard against his chest with his foot that he sailed backwards in a high arc and then lay motionless.

Now there was no holding back anymore and many Northuldra stormed him all at once. The first three did not know what happened to them when their battlestaves were knocked from their hands with such force that they themselves were torn around and hurled to the ground. At the next man Kolgrimr cut the staff in half with the blade of his hunting tip in one mighty blow, and in the same movement he struck the other end of the staff with force against his neck. The Northuldra crashed to the ground like a felled tree.

The wave of the attack came to a halt and the Northuldra became more careful now. With eyes widened in fear they looked back and forth between the men lying on the ground and Kolgrimr. Only a few seconds had passed and already five of them were out of action, two of them unconscious and three rubbed their aching arms.

They slowly moved further apart and tried to encircle him now with sticks held out in front of them. Kolgrimr smiled and let his battlestick whirl before him, so that the blades of the hunting tips flashed in the light of the low-lying sun and created a trail of light in front of him. The men hesitated.

Honeymaren still waited. He was yet a bit too far away from her and her steps would surely reveal her in the attack. She hoped that the next attack would bring him closer to her. She slightly corrected her foot position and the grip on her staff. She was ready for the jump.

And indeed, Kolgrimr retreated slightly at the next attack. Two of the more experienced fighters exchanged fierce blows with Kolgrimr at the same time. But he had no problems at all to parry the strokes. With playful ease he casually hit them against arms, legs and scored body hits. He obviously played with them and was unnaturally fast. It was almost as if he knew exactly in advance where the two men were going to strike.

“Yet a little bit closer ...,” Honeymaren whispered to herself without a sound and gripped her staff tighter.

Now the third attacker joined in, a wirily built younger Northuldra woman. She let her battlestaff slowly spin in front of her, waiting for the ideal moment to attack as she moved in a semicircle closer to the fighters. Then the moment was there, she jumped into the gap and thrust with all her might. Kolgrimr made a leap backwards.

That was the moment Honeymaren had been waiting for and left her guard. One leap, another, and her toes barely touched the ground as she jumped up behind him with her battlestaff raised and delivered a precise, powerful blow to the only exposed spot. His carotid artery. She knew it wouldn't kill him, but it would certainly incapacitate him.

She also knew at this crucial moment that her stroke was perfectly executed and would find its target. Then the unthinkable happened. Only a fraction of a second before that, Kolgrimr crouched down in a flash, spun around and looked her straight in the eyes with a terrifying, mad grin, as her strike went nowhere and she went down uncontrolled. Immediately he was above her, put his foot on her chest and pressed his hunting tip against her neck. Honeymaren was stunned and let her staff roll out of her hand.

“You!” he rumbled over her and slightly increased the pressure with his battlestick. Honeymaren groaned and a thin blood thread ran from the light cut.

“Let go of my sister at once, you monster!”

Kolgrimr slowly turned around and saw Ryder standing behind him in attack position two steps away. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and said, “Interesting. I didn't see you coming.”

“How could you, I was standing right behind you, in your blind spot. Let her go now ... please. She was just trying to defend us. We haven't done anything to you!”

Kolgrimr pondered, looked down at Ryder's sister again and then raised his eyes to look into the faces of the surrounding ones who were frozen in their movement.

One of the men whispered in the ear of the equally shocked Yelana. “How can a man be so fast. It's supernatural.”

Yelana shook her head slightly and muttered just two words, “Berserker juice.” He looked after her uncomprehendingly as she took two steps towards Kolgrimr, threw her staff from her and spread her arms wide.

“Kolgrimr. Enough! Hear me ... I beg you. I will grant your request and go into exile willingly if you release Honeymaren. You don't want to kill one of our people, do you? You are one of us, and it is not us you hate.”

Kolgrimr's attitude relaxed a little and Honeymaren dared to breathe a sigh of relief. At least she hoped fervently that he would accept Yelana's offer.

“Why not right away so? That's I wanted to hear since the beginning. Drop all your staffs and step back,” he ordered in a loud voice, turned back to Ryder and said, “You too!” He made a nodding head movement towards the ground and fixed Ryder with a piercing look.

Ryder hesitated and gave Yelana a questioning look. She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally dropped his staff.

Kolgrimr took the spearhead from Honeymaren's neck and said to Yelana in a commanding tone, “Get your belongings and get out of here! Hurry up, go on!” Yelana gave him an angry look, picked up her staff again, took a quick step to her kota and disappeared into it.

Shortly after, she came out again, with a bag over her shoulder. She took one last look around and walked with measured steps towards lichen meadows. When she was out of sight Kolgrimr also took the foot from Honeymaren's chest and pulled her up by her collar. He stood behind her in a flash and suddenly she had his long knife at her throat.

The Northuldra groaned loudly and Ryder sank to his knees in desperation. “I have no intention of killing her,” Kolgrimr shouted to the Northuldra gathered around him. “But for now, I'll keep her as hostage, you hear? Don't get any stupid ideas or you will bitterly regret it!”

Then he lowered his head to her left ear grinning and whispered in low voice, “You won't die, dearie, not yet. You will help me to bring the Arendellian royalty back to me, specially your beloved snow queen.”

All her hope seemed lost now; she thought. She realized, that she was helplessly at his mercy now. She felt his hard grip pressing her against his chest and the deadly sharp knife at her throat. Tears began to flow down her cheeks and she trembled in fear.

When Kolgrimr finally started to move and to direct her into the woods she throwed to her brother a last glance. He still kneeled on the floor, staring at her desparately. Maybe this was the last goodbye.

Her lips silently formed her last words to him, “I love you, little brother.”

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Announcement : Tomorrow a little surprise is waiting for you, so don't forget to check my blog. By the way, I plan this also for the change to the future parts, always one day later than usual. Just now part two has started... At this point I would also like to thank all those readers who have liked my story so far without comments, but are still there and also my new blog followers. THANK YOU guys!

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #part two #chapter 13 #bigfrozenfan

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