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magicxc · 1 year ago

Text

Slow Motion

Pairings: Kofi Siriboe x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1785

Warnings: fluff, fingering

A/N: This was LONG overdue lol. I never expected to take so much time on these drabbles, but in the end I've come to love ALL pieces involved with this "series." It was nostalgic, fun, and most importantly SPICY 🥵 I thought something light to wrap it all up was much needed, so do enjoy Kofi in all his tenderness.

BBJ Masterlist

Deeply inhaling, a crooked smile dangles on the corner of my lips as the soft scent adds to the cozy atmosphere. There’s notes of lavender and frankincense that linger, almost lulling me to a peaceful sleep. The diffuser on the countertop spills Eucalyptus oil into the damp air, the harmony of aromas relaxingly pleasant.

Candles line the bathroom floor, all unscented, instead adding to the intimate vibes. The lights are dimmed, my only source of visibility is the flame of the fire flickering through the dark room, entranced as I watch them dance against the drywalls.

The water is deliciously warm to the touch, almost too warm - it’s that scorching feeling that borders the line of pain, scared to submerge my body entirely as some parts are more sensitive than others. The longer I sit here, the more my body adjusts to the scoiling temperature and I slowly inch my way down until I'm chin deep into the bath. The epsom salt is crunchy against my legs, the textures oddly satisfying as I rub against them until they disintegrate.

Bubbles filled to the brim, they’ve become this fun distraction as opposed to the serene scene Kofi intended them to be. And while it is captivating, I find it a lot more entertaining. I’ve found myself blowing them, splashing them, and even molding them to my desire.

“Aren’t you supposed to be relaxing?”

“This is relaxing,” I giggled.

Slipping in behind me, Kofi gently submerges himself into the bath, his added body heat making me even hotter; and I don't mean in temperature. Hands crawling to my shoulders, he begins to massage them, his fingers working out the stress from earlier today. Firmly caressing his digits into my shoulder blades, my groans hint at which spots need the most attention; growing louder every time he rubs the flesh just right.

“What's got my pretty girl so stressed out?”

“Baby, I swear I love my job and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but sometimes it gets tiresome carrying the workload.”

“Do you think the workload is too heavy? That maybe you need a few days off?” he suggested.

“No it’s not that, ow-”

“Sorry, was that too much?”

“Mhmm”

As nimble as his fingers may be, Kofi for sure knows how to use them. They rub and dig and knead in the best ways, but sometimes his hold can carry a bit too much pressure. Intent on massaging out the knot, sometimes he doesn’t realise that his once firm touch can easily pass over to discomfort. Kissing along my temple, he promises to go softer, eagerly getting back to the topic at hand.

“So if it’s not your workload that's bothering you, it must be something else? It sounds more like you’re carrying the team.”

“I don’t mind stepping in when I need to.”

��How do your shoulders feel beautiful? They’re sagging and the knot is gone.”

“Great,” I sigh. “I feel like I can bench press 70 pounds.”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “Lemme see how I can get that number to 80.”

Laughing, he stops massaging my shoulders to which I whine in protest. A kiss to my lips effectively stops me in my tracks, Kofi assuring me that my night is far from finished. Reaching over to the shelf beside us, I hadn’t realised how he stocked it in preparation. He has a little of everything, unsure of which direction this night will take us. There’s face masks, oils, wine bottles, a lighter, bath bombs, rosemary, and a few other things I don't get the chance to linger on.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” I breathed.

“Good, no questions moving forward please. I just need you to let go.”

Grabbing a cup from the shelf, he dips it below the water, filling it to the brim.

“What’s that for?”

“Didn’t I just say no questions?”

“But-”

“Aht”

“All I want -”

“Don’t even, now close your eyes.”

Emptying the cup over my head, I dramatically blow out the excess spittle of water, mostly because I didn’t expect it. And of course Kofi wouldn't explain things either, interrupting me every time I decided to inquire further. He repeats this two more times, until my hair and face are fully drenched. The water is a little hotter than room temperature now, so the sensitivity of my scalp welcomes the warm downpour.

His hands reach for the shampoo next to us and my mouth forms an “O” at where this is going, deciding to just sit back and let Kofi do his thing before my endless questions ruin what he’s attempting. Pouring the thick goop into his hands, he rubs them together before delving his fingers into my hair.

My curls are easily tangled when wet, so I watch as he does the five finger method, carefully running his hand through each section of hair before scooping it all together. Once he successfully detangles my head, Kofi goes on to rub his fingers sturdily against my scalp, focusing more so on massaging it as opposed to washing my tresses.

“Mhmmmmyy goshhh, baby this feels AMAZING. I should let you help out on wash day more often.”

“So you can tire my hands out? I don’t think so,” he jokes.

“We can split the chores, you wash and I style.”

“Let me marinate on that for a bit. What I really want to know is why you’ve been working yourself to the point of exhaustion?”

“Because unnmpph, right at the base please.”

“Down here?” he asks, working his thumbs toward the back of my head.

“Yes, thank you! And I guess it’s because I didn’t see how ragged I was running my body. One offer turns into an expectation and before I know it, I’ve effectively taken on the job description of at least three other people.”

“Mhmm,” he hums. “I love your willingness to help gorgeous, but to put it simply, those motherfuckers do not care. Takers never get tired of taking, but givers do get tired of giving. You’ll give the literal clothes off your back if you have to and trust me they’ll take it without question.”

A comfortable silence falls between us, one where I get a moment's clarity. A moment where the rose colored lens shift ever so slightly. When something becomes my passion I won’t hesitate to see it through, but what I haven’t seen is how quick people are to take advantage of that drive. I can love my job and still set boundaries, and it’s a shame it took me putting my body through so much to see that.

Thankfully Kofi is gentle with me. Kind enough to point out where I went wrong without ever making me feel bad for my actions; only encouraging me to learn from my mistakes from this point on. And if I can get this type of treatment every time I mess up, I may have to mess up more often.

Rinsing through my hair, he conditions it all the same, fingers actively kneading the tension away. Eyelids fluttering close, I embrace his gentle touch and allow my body to just be. To feel his hand against my skin and the warmth of the water. To smell the arrangement of scents that linger in the air. To listen to the flickering of the flames from the candles. To watch the bubbles bounce around the tub with each movement. I try my best to take it all in - relax my mind, still the whirlwind of thoughts, and allow myself to be present - the bullshit of the world forgotten.

Before I know it Kofi rinses out my hair once more, the worries of this week sliding down my shoulders. Leaning into his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat becomes my own personal ballad; interrupted by the rumbling of his chest as he asks how I’m feeling.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought babe and you’re right, those motherfuckers do not care.”

Agreeing, we talk a little about setting boundaries, but most importantly working my wage. Fingers delicately cradled against my cheeks, he presses his lips to mine, so soft I barely feel it. His minty breath fans against my face and I close my eyes while his forehead rests against mine, the two of us reveling in the ambiance of the night.

“I see that you’re tired, but do you think you can do one more thing for me pretty?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Go ahead and spread your legs.”

Eyes shooting open, it’s the vulgarity of his words that throw me off. Kofi and I are no stranger to hot sex, but every time I hear how filthy he can get, it sends a wave of heat throughout my body.

“What all do you have planned tonight exactly?”

“I thought we agreed no questions. The only time I wanna see your mouth open again is when I'm putting my dick to the back of it. Now be real good for me and open up.”

The retort is on the literal tip of my tongue, just itching to jump over the edge, excited to see where another “mishap” can land me. But Kofi’s worked so hard to make this night special, so it’s only right that I see things through the way he intended.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers resting on my clit. “Stay just like this for me.”

Straight to the point Kofi starts to gently rub on the nub, my skin between his teeth adding to what already feels ethereal. His other hand reaches up to my breast, tweaking the nipples to attention; and my arms fly to the edge of the tub, needing to grab onto anything for stability.

“Im just getting started,” he kissed. “I just need you to hold out for a little while longer, yeah?”

“Uhnnn ye- yeah.”

Hips bucking into his fingers, I throw my head onto Kofi’s shoulder to ride out the sensations, my breathing growing ragged as he cranes his head forward to slip my nipple into his mouth.

“Not yet.”

“Babyyyyyyy, I can’t hold out for much longer.”

“You wont need to, I promise.”

Fingers swiftly rubbing over my clit, my hips continue snapping into his expert fingers, thighs shaking the water out the tub. His tongue swirls around my nipple, warm and electrifying. Hands gripping the tub, I beg Kofi to let me cum, relief washing over me as he finally does.

“It’s true that takers never get tired of taking, and on some level I can relate, because I’m gonna take every last drop your body has to offer,” he promised. “So be extra good for me, and give me one more pretty.”

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #My Drabbles #Black Boy Joy #Kofi Siriboe x Black Reader #Kofi Siriboe x Black!Fem!Reader #Kofi Siriboe #Black Reader #Black!Fem!Reader #Bath Time Tings #Fin #Finale Tings

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luveline · 3 years ago

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in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

#fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #harry potter imagine #fred Weasley imagine #fred Weasley x reader #reader insert #reader has acne #reader is an unreliable narrator #reader x fred Weasley #fred Weasley fanfic #fred Weasley fluff #hurt/comfort #Fred weasley x reader

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todoscript · 4 years ago

Text

coming home and finding out you fell asleep with lingerie on

characters: bakugou katsuki. todoroki shouto. genre: smut. warnings: 18+. very heaty moments. katsuki and shouto have no restraint. author’s note: This came out of nowhere, but I had an urge to write some spicy stuff so this is what happened. I was going to add Izuku too, but these things became longer than I thought they would (sorry baby). I’ll probably post his version of this with another character in the future though! The actual steamy stuff is written underneath the bulletpoints & read more! ;-)

bakugou katsuki

isn’t surprised to see you passed out on the couch with a small blanket over you, being that he arrived back at your shared apartment late at night due to another full day of hero work

cue his expression softening to those secret endearing eyes of his he never shows in front of you as he watches you for much longer than necessary, breathing in and out evenly in your sleep

but hey, can you blame him? you’re pretty damn cute when you’re so sound asleep like that—word by word thoughts going through his head right now

he knows you can’t stay here for long though. it gets pretty chilly in the living room and he doesn’t want you to catch something, considering how flimsy the blanket is that’s covering you. the material barely reaches to your ankles.

“Babe. Hey, babe. I’m home, c’mon let’s sleep on the bed,” he says low in his gruff voice, running a hand up your arm that’s clad in the blanket.

shakes you a bit to stir you awake so you can both walk to the bed together, but you don’t budge the first couple of times, only humming in your sleep

so he takes it upon himself to carry you to your room and properly get you to bed

however, when he moves the thin blanket off of you, that look of surprise slowly envelops his face when he sees inches of bare skin unveiled the more he pulls the sheet down

- - - - -

You’re practically naked aside from the sheer, wine red lace that only covers your most intimate parts, and even that isn’t enough to keep Katsuki’s eyes from wandering and his thoughts from wandering further.

With the blanket drawn off you, there isn’t a barrier to keep the cold from nipping at your skin—a sensation that agitates you awake as you stretch out your sleepiness on the couch. You’re still unaware of the lecherous eyes that stare at every angle you offer them. Spreading your body out like that, where the fabric clings to you, accentuating all your curves right in front of him? You may seem half-asleep, but there has to be a vixen at work inside that mind of yours. There’s no way you can’t be aware of what you’re doing to him.

It’s not until you rub away some of your drowsiness that you finally perceive the blonde kneeling before the couch. The surprise at discovering his attentive, red eyes glaring at you startles you to attention. You fix your hair, moving the strands out of your face and cleaning off the invisible marks of drool that might have abided your lips.

“Oh, welcome home, Katsuki,” you manage to greet, but Katsuki does not return your welcome. Instead, you feel his large calloused palm run up the length of your legs, and you realize the situation you’re in—how you decided to surprise him that night, wearing a new matching set of dark red lingerie, only to end up dozing off on the couch waiting for him. Though it seems it wasn’t all for naught. With the carnal expression he gives you in your most vulnerable state, he’s more than surprised alright. He’s absolutely thrilled.

Katsuki’s hands explore across your skin, mapping through every expanse despite being more than familiar with the territory. But in actuality, he’s paying all his attention to the lace—the fabric seeming so flimsy, so obscenely indecent on that figure of yours, yet at the same time, equally exquisite. You don’t wear lingerie often, but when you do, it always spurs something to tighten down in his pants, seeing you like this.

His hand trails up the material, tracing the texture before slowly inching his fingers beneath the waistband. “Mm, babe, were you planning something? Looking all sexy, wearing this—” he snaps the elastic against your bare skin, stinging any sleepiness lingering in you away as you wince at the sensation, “skimpy thing while I was gone? You must be desperate to get fucked, right?”

Even if you want to answer, he doesn’t let you. Any words desiring to leave stay trapped in your throat when Katsuki suddenly leans in to fervently capture your lips.

Despite the usual rampant pace of his actions, you soon adjust into his air of lust like it’s second nature. Your tongue mingles against his through each succession of your lips locking together, your hands twining into his ash blonde hair. Katsuki gets to work at removing his shirt with one hand, but remains mindful at busying the other by palming at the lace, gathering your flesh in his grasp before the other joins in on the ministrations.

He finally makes his way onto the couch with you, towering over your body and revels in the noises sounding past those pretty lips when his fingers find your center. All the sensations pile in your body, making you tremble in waves. The wetness already seeping through your delicate panties becomes slicker at his touch.

“Barely even did anything and you’re already this fucking wet? You really do want to get fucked don’tcha?”

“God, yes, please Katsuki. Please fuck me, I want you to fuck me so bad,” you whimper, not sugarcoating your words. You need him right now. Need him so much you’re willing to beg for him without restraint, dropping every ounce of your dignity if it meant he’d pound into you and relieve you of that ache building in your lower-half. It’s to the point where just the sound of his belt unbuckling around his pants is enough to delight and send tingles of anticipation to your cunt.

“Oh, don’t worry, babe. Waiting on me all this time? I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. All. Fucking. Night. Long.” The tone his timbre descends toward incites a whine past your lips, and he smirks at the desperate sound.

“But on one condition.”

“W-What?” You’re quick to reply—anything to lessen the delay and continue the heat of your passion. However, you’re hesitant at what this condition might entail, especially when Katsuki’s grin widens further. His hands do not relent in pulling and pressing against you through the red material of your lingerie.

“I get to fuck you in this thing.”

todoroki shouto

grumbling on his way home because of how late it is and how long you must have been waiting for him

his old man just had to drone on and on at him when the former pro hero visited his agency that night

because of that, he enters your shared space where the silence and dimness of the apartment are what welcome him

he wishes you were the one that would greet him instead, arms open for him as you ask about his day

but he’s more than aware you fell asleep waiting for him all this time

especially when he strides into his bedroom and beholds you laying on your large bed with a fluffy robe wrapped and tied around your body. your eyes are closed in slumber and you’re curled up atop the sheets

you look so precious to him, he can’t stop an adoring smile from finding his lips

he slightly nudges you. when you slowly rouse awake, your small, dozy movements add to his endearment for you that spurs his lips to your forehead while you adjust to your surroundings

“Love, I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Let’s get to bed.”

you hum a pitched “alright” in reply that comes out in a whine while you rub your eyes, saying you should get changed then

he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you saunter to the bathroom as you untie the sash of your robe along the way

just before your figure disappears inside however, he catches your skin, decorated in intricate black lace when you let the fluffy material fall below your shoulders

- - - - -

Shouto can’t help the look on his face while he unknowingly ogles you, eyes growing lidded with every peek of your body shown through the sizable crack of the door. He almost releases a groan when the long robe obscuring him from the rest of you finally piles in a heap on the floor and catches the full appearance of your body covered in the enticing black set.

The way it enhances your curves and brings out the beauty of your skin tone is beyond sinful in his eyes. He’s wondering how something so dainty can incite such a hardened reaction from him so quickly, and why he can’t seem to tear his gaze away at your mussed form still ridden with bits of sleep. You must be a succubus, right? Because how can you look so innocent, yet so tempting at the same time?

His attention on you leads to him lifting off the bed and striding to the bathroom, still trained on your figure with only lascivious thoughts running through his mind. He wants to touch you, squeeze you, feel the elaborate, lacy texture of your lingerie as he presses your soft lips on his, and hear all your lustful cries in the course of his insatiable greed.

Utterly devour you.

You have absolutely no idea what’s going through him right now, too occupied tidying bits of yourself in the mirror with a set of sleeping clothes lying on the counter, waiting to replace your beribboned attire. You wore this with the idea of wanting to treat Shouto to a good night of passion, but considering the time and how he must be tired after a long day at his agency, you figure it’s too late for such desires now. Oh, how wrong you are.

Undoubtedly so as the moment your fingers find the clasp on your back holding your bra together, they’re thwarted by a hand wrapping around your wrist and moving them out of the way. Within that instance, you’re also spun around. Your back presses against the sink counter as you come face to face with the sensual glint in Shouto’s gray and blue eyes.

You feel small underneath his unwavering, heavy gaze, squirming in place while his hands still grip your wrists that subdue any thought of you getting away from him. “Shouto, I need to get changed so we can go to sleep—”

“How long have you been wearing this?” he interjects, ignoring your plea and slipping a finger beneath the satin strap of your bra. Meanwhile, the other hand caresses up your warm, bare thigh until it arrives at your panties’ lace. The gestures leave the air hitching in your throat. You have to swallow down a gulp in order to reply to him amid his methodical strokes and caresses.

“I had it on all evening…” you admit, voice becoming quiet. Shouto hums at your answer, leaning into you and pressing your back further against the counter. He traces up your form with not only his hands but also his eyes, committing your bewitching state to memory, familiarizing himself with the intricate patterns of your lingerie.

“For that long, love? You expect me not to appreciate the effort and thought you put in, bearing your pretty body in this—” he palms at your breast through your underwear, rousing a moan to slip from your lips, “and waiting for me this entire time?”

“I-I thought you’d be too tired to—ah—t-to do anything so I figured we should go to sleep now, mm—” You find it hard to keep your voice steady. Not with Shouto’s ministrations descending to your cunt, stroking the wetness gathering at your center that saturates the crotch of your black panties. He captures the slickness around his fingertips and earnestly licks it off with his tongue, admiring your taste while keeping such intense eye contact. It makes your cheeks burn and your arousal heighten.

“On the contrary, baby, seeing you in this just riles me up even more. Makes me want to ravage you while you’re wearing it,” he tells you with an edge in his tone that reduces you to whimpers. Before you can come up with any coherent thought, he hoists you up onto the bathroom sink, effectively spreading you open in front of him as he kneels eye level toward your clothed pussy.

“And that’s exactly what I intend to do. So sit there and let me admire you as I appreciate everything you have to offer.”

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou smut #todoroki smut #bnhabookclub #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #katsuki smut #shouto smut #bnha imagine #bnha scenarios #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou imagine #todoroki imagine

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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 4 years ago

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Nemesis: Retribution (4)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), voyeurism, exhibitionism, authority kink, praise kink, spanking, slight dom themes, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint,

A/N: Slowing it down just a bit to move plot along. Freaking out on the reblogs and comments are encouraged and will be rewarded with cookies. Seriously though, I love hearing what you guys think and use some of it to make the next chapters better. I adore you all! Have at it!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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1:4 Apple Crumble

Steve Rogers had kindly offered for you and your team to stay at the Compound. For however long this mission would take, you were all going to start running straight at it early tomorrow. In terms of the mission, he was relieved to have your help. The sooner the serum was out of circulation the better and they truthfully did need your help. This underground world was more your scene now and you could better navigate it.

On a personal level, he was glad that you were sticking around even if it was on a contract. He would take whatever opportunity he can and make the best of it. That's how he's always been and he wasn't going to change that now.

He told himself that it was because he was the Captain that he was at your door this late after you all had agreed to part for the night. It was out of consideration that he carried with him some of his own clothes to offer you in case you needed something to change into. It was out of a need to clear the tension with you now that you were going to work as a team again that he was knocking on your door.

That was all.

You opened the door a moment later wrapped only in a short towel and with your hair still dripping wet from the shower. The smile that rose on your face was sly as you leaned on the doorframe with your arms crossed and your hip cocked to one side. He swallowed.

Maybe that wasn't all.

"What can I do for you, Cap?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was far too distracted by the little droplet that rolled down from your temple to the valley of your breasts. He shook his head and cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus only on your eyes and not the inappropriate answers that sprung to mind at your question.

"I brought you a change of clothes in case you need it," he managed to say. "And I wanted to talk to you if you're not too tired."

You opened the door wider and took the clothes from him without a word, turning into the room toward the bathroom. You casually dropped your towel to the floor and Steve choked at the sight of your bare back, a small set of black panties the only stitch you wore. The breath in his chest released only when you disappeared into the bathroom, the door cracked open offering him enticing glimpses as you moved around.

Steve hurriedly closed the door behind him and as he made his way further in, he caught sight of an open go bag beside your bed with clothes clearly visible. There was also a shirt and sweats beside it, the design he knew belonged to Pietro. He felt a little embarrassed. Of course Pietro would have already beaten him to it and that your team always came prepared. Still there was a satisfaction that bloomed in him when you stepped out clad in his shirt, the hem barely reaching mid thigh and bare feet soundlessly crossing the carpeted floor until you came to sit with him on the sofa. You tucked your legs under you and rested your head on your hand over the back of the seat.

"Gotta say I like this look, Steve," you grinned at him.

He chuckled, self-consciously rubbing at his beard and pulling at the hair at the back of his collar. The light dusting of red on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"What? You don't like the all American apple pie look?"

You hummed and took a leisurely look at him from head to toe. Rugged and imposing as he appeared, the heat on his face intensified at your obvious appreciation and the way you swiped your tongue along your bottom lip. You were biting your lip when your eyes met his again, trying to stop yourself from laughing at how flustered he was getting and how much you were enjoying it. You've always found Steve handsome and he made apple pie look damn good, but this look on him was just so dangerously delicious.

You had a type.

"I'm more of an apple crumble kind of girl. I like the texture better," you winked. "And I don't mind a little beard burn."

"Will your team mind that I'm talking to you without one of them here?"

You raised an eyebrow and held his unsteady gaze, clearly understanding he meant more than just your professional relationship with the three men.

"You're curious."

"It's none of my business. That's not what I came to talk to you about," he stammered, unaccustomed to how forward you were.

"What did you want to talk about then?"

"I wanted to apologize properly and thank you for agreeing to help."

You groaned and threw your whole body back on the seat, causing Steve's shirt to ride up just shy of completely flashing him. You sat back up and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a long breath. It was only the fact that it was Steve that you were even entertaining this conversation.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Steve," you firmly dismissed.

"I do, Nem. We all do."

"Fine. List down what you're sorry about. Let's go through it one by one or we can draw lots to make it interesting."

"Nem," he said, low and clear with warning yet imploring you to listen. "Can you take this seriously for one second?"

The ever present smirk on your face dropped as you sighed heavily and ran a hand through your hair. For the first time since he's seen you, your expression softened a fraction and a shadow of the person he used to know passed across your features.

"Listen to me, Steve. I don't blame any of you. I'm not angry at any of you. I honestly have no room for more anger even if I wanted to be."

In the beginning you were. There were days while you were getting tortured that you hated them while you pleaded to the heavens for them to rescue you. It had taken a decade and three incredible men for that inferno of fury to turn into a manageable bitterness.

"Do you know how tiring it is to be so fucking angry all the time?" you chuckled darkly. "It took a while, but I learned to prioritize what I choose to be angry about."

"Salvacion," he muttered and you nodded, your eyes staring blankly forward.

"I've carried that name for a decade, Steve. That asshole has to die by my hands."

Steve saw now how selfish he was for forcing the conversation with the purpose of earning your forgiveness. It was for easing his own guilt that he was doing it when instead he should have just been thanking you for what you did and had to endure.

"Why didn't you ever come back?"

"I tried, Steve. When I was recovered enough I tried to go back. Did you know my sister had a girlfriend?"

He shook his head, throat suddenly closing at the sight of absolute misery in your eyes. He regretted starting this conversation even more.

"Jill. She was amazing to Lily and she was like a sister to me too," you smiled a little, not in your usual sarcastic way but with a hint of gentle fondness before your expression hardened once more.

"I saw her and I just couldn't bring myself to face her. I'm the reason the love of her life is dead. I couldn't, Steve"

It started off with the fear that they might have killed Jill too. You told yourself you had to know, but truthfully you were trying desperately to find a connection to Lily. You found her visiting the graveyard, laying flowers on two stones and spending the afternoon sitting on the ground tearfully talking to the dead. The shame burned through you and from then on you made it your sole purpose to destroy the man who took Lily from you both. Until then you had no right to face her. You had no right to return to the life you once knew.

Steve noticed that you weren't crying although the look in your eyes was swimming with grief. He expected you to cry, but somehow seeing you with dry eyes only made you look more in pain. You only clenched your fists, your shoulders tense and your jaw stiff. Steve decided he would tell the others instead of having you go through this conversation again.

He would do that for you.

You woke up surprisingly refreshed the following morning, strangely lighter than you have felt in the past decade. You didn't expect for that talk with Steve to have such an impact on you. You smiled ruefully, remembering your many counseling sessions with Curtis before and that maybe you were finally seeing his point.

FRIDAY had directed you to the larger conference room for today's briefing session with the rest of the team. You were wearing another one of Steve's shirts paired with your usual cargo pants, a fact that didn't go unnoticed judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smiles. Billy in particular was leaning in to whisper to Matt what was going on.

"You don't have to tell me. I can smell it," Matt chuckles, crinkles visible at the edges of his dark sunglasses. "His cologne is quite distinct."

You smacked Billy on the arm, but laughed with them as well before throwing a wink at Steve who proceeded to blush a deep red. As you took your seat, a cup of coffee suddenly materialized in front of you accompanied by Pietro's ever bright smile. You smiled gratefully and took a sip, eyes slightly rounding in surprise at the taste.

"You remembered how I took my coffee."

"I've forgotten nothing about you, little star."

You haven't taken your coffee that way in so long. It's been just strong plain black coffee lately, the lack of sugar and cream where you lived with the boys being a factor. It had seemed pointless to eat something sweet when there was a permanent sour taste in your mouth from life. Now though you couldn't seem to help taking one sip after another, licking your lips before going in for more.

Right now this tasted right.

You didn't notice that Billy was smiling adoringly at you and sharing a look of approval with Frank as the briefing began, happy that someone aside from him was spoiling you. You certainly didn't know that Matt was smirking because he heard your heart literally skip a beat at the sweet gesture.

It took hours for the meeting to wrap up, but there was still more to do before you could actually take action. A number of the Avengers were sent out to gather more intel while the rest would stay to make further preparations.

"I only really need to talk to Frank a bit more," Steve said as he approached your group. "Why don't we have Pietro show you guys around the Compound? There are some improvements I think you'll find interesting."

Your tour guide for the afternoon appeared beside you, taking your hand in his and bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. He was just too cute that you couldn't help but let out a small smile. The effect he had on you remained it seems.

"A tour would be really helpful for me," Matt easily agreed.

"And I go wherever the pretty girl goes," Billy added, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"Great. Surrender your weapons and you should be good to go," Steve asked with a pointed look at both you and Billy who groaned in answer.

Billy was ready with a string of complaints and counter arguments when the clang of metal on the glass conference table stunned him into silence. He watched in complete disbelief as you removed every gun and blade attached to your body, efficiently dismantling them and lining them up on the table.

"Is she?" Matt murmured, leaning closer to Billy.

"Yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah."

By the time you stepped back, there was practically a decent sized armory on the table. How and where you managed to fit all of it on your person was a mystery to them.

"You missed one," Billy said, snapping out of his daze.

He stepped in front of you and casually slipped his arm up the front of your shirt and under your sports bra. His fingers grazed unnecessarily close to your now hardened nipples and he simply winked when you raised an eyebrow at him. Billy pulled out two small throwing daggers soon after and placed them alongside your other weapons.

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting about those," you chuckled.

"Do you always come armed to the teeth?" Bucky snapped, clearly bothered by the display.

"She doesn't want her team to carry extra ammo for her, Sergeant," Billy scowled at him, the obvious animosity surprising Bucky. When he turned back to Pietro, his expression was back to his usual playful one. "So how about that tour?"

Frank turned to Steve when you had exited the room. "You gotta teach me that trick, Cap."

"What trick?"

"First time in 10 years I've seen her take any kind of order without a knife fight first," he said, cracking a smile and shaking his head.

It turns out that coming back was doing some good for you and this made him more comfortable around the Avengers. He wasn't about to braid them friendship bracelets but he was less inclined to pop a cap in their ass. At least for the time being.

Walking around the Compound brought back some of that wonder you felt when you first stepped in, but it recalled everything you had lost. Sensing the sudden tension in you, Billy gripped you by the waist and pulled you into his side. He kissed your temple, a silent reminder of what you had gained.

Pietro had been an absolute sweetheart, specifically describing what was in the area for Matt's benefit and pointing out the changes to you. The training area was your last stop, the place you had spent the most time in during your short stint here. There were loud sounds coming from the area and walking in you saw fresh-faced recruits in paired off sparring sessions.

Your full attention was on Pietro as he happily listed off the new features and answered questions from Matt and Billy, the latter now in businessman mode as he thought of what he could implement for Anvil. You were having an unusually pleasant time until a familiar shrill voice demanded your attention.

"Well look what the street cat dragged in. Y/N?"

You knew that voice. A decade with torture and trauma included apparently couldn't change how much her voice grated at you. The cold smirk made a reappearance on your face as you slowly turned to face her, the three men with you were instantly alarmed at the change in your demeanor.

"Kim," you nodded.

"Thought you were dead."

"Thanks. Can't say I thought about you at all though."

"I see you're still pathetically clinging to Pietro."

"What can I say? He's really cute," you said with a wink at Pietro who seemed to enjoy the compliment.

She sneered at you, her irritation rising when you weren't backing down like you used to do. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed about you, but you seemed rougher around the edges and far too cocky for her liking. Luckily, she still remembered a sure-fire way to take you down a few pegs.

"I'm teaching a class on hand to hand combat. How about we show them a demonstration on what a real fight looks like?"

You giggled as your smile grew, a disturbing sight that made even Kim doubt herself for a moment. You nodded your head in easy acceptance and she looked like she was pleased at herself for getting this opportunity. Before you could step forward though, you found Matt's walking stick blocking your path.

"What? It's not assault if it's provoked," you grinned at the frown on his face.

He hated it when you found loopholes, but he relented with a heavy sigh. He was too used to this. He leaned toward Pietro and told him that he should inform the Captain.

"Get some snacks too, roadrunner," Billy chuckled, delightedly watching you strip off your shirt and walking confidently towards Kim on the sparring mats.

Pietro had returned a moment later after completing his task, actually handing Billy a bag of fresh popcorn. The smile on his face froze when he caught sight of your bare skin. So far all he had seen as evidence of your torture was what was visible on your neck and face. He had stupidly brushed that fact aside, too excited to have found you again. Now the vicious marring on your beautiful skin was a cruel reminder of their failure as your team. They had failed you.

He had failed you.

Back in the conference room, the same feelings were shared by two super soldiers. They had pulled up surveillance on the training area after Pietro's message, just in time to see you take off that shirt.

Bucky felt the air leave his lungs at the horrific sight. He was alive and you had paid a heavy price for saving him. He could barely keep his eyes on you, the shame burning through him. He didn't want to imagine the amount of pain you had to endure to sustain those injuries.

"Don't you people dare look at her with pity," Frank warned. "Those scars are a testament to her strength. She's damn beautiful."

Steve agreed. He'd caught a glimpse of your scars last night and jarring as they were, your complete lack of self consciousness to them just made you more alluring. Looking back at the screen though he was concerned that you could hurt yourself. Kim was a top agent now, high enough in the ranks to be training recruits and leading missions. She had proven herself deadly in combat, but the way you were grinning was chilling in itself.

"One question before we start," you said.

"What?" Kim scoffed, flipping her braided hair over her shoulder.

"When's your next mission?"

"2 weeks. Why?" she answered, perfect brow raised in confusion.

"Just calculating your recovery time," you shrugged. "I'm nice that way."

Kim predictably charged at you then, growling and cursing at you under her breath. You smirked, standard SHIELD movements were easy to read for you. You stayed completely still and relaxed in your stance as she lunged at you with her fist. You timed your movement precisely, sidestepping at the absolute last moment. One hand grabbed at the back of her head, forcing it down to ram against your oncoming fist with a sickening crack.

Broken nose.

Kim shrieked in pain as the blood gushed from her nose and she tried to pull away from you. You didn't let her. You pulled her down by the shoulder to bend her over before driving your knee up her midsection. She wheezed at the impact, the mat below her smattered with her blood.

Bruised ribs. Maybe slightly broken.

You unceremoniously threw her aside, letting her fall groaning on her side. You clicked your tongue, watching her struggle and turning to the class she was supposed to be teaching.

"Lesson 1, kids," you waved your hands in Kim's general direction. "Don't end up like that."

Broken ego.

You turned to go back to your boys when the glint of metal caught your eye. You tilted your head just in time for the dagger to zip past your eye line, only thinly scratching at your cheek. Your hands reacted on instinct, reaching for the small hidden pocket along the waistband of you pants. You flicked the thin blade with deft fingers, embedding on the mat and landing it purposely close to Kim's eyes that it cut through her fake lashes.

"Nem!" Steve's unmistakable voice boomed through the speakers. You had forgotten that they had FRIDAY everywhere. "We said no weapons."

You rolled your eyes and smiled cheekily at the cameras. "It's just a nail file. I don't like keeping blood under my nails."

"You call that training?" Steve groaned rubbing his eyes and turning to Frank.

"I call that anger management," Frank said, amused at how unpredictable to handle they already found you when they've barely scratched the surface. He noticed how Bucky looked furious, his metal hand clutching a little too hard onto the table. "Don't like what you see, Sarge?"

Bucky didn't answer. He didn't tell them that he didn't like what he saw because he knew he was a major contributor in what caused it. If only he had been kinder, gentler, more honest. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

He walked down the hallways much later gripping a first aid kit in his metal hand and nervously running the other through his cropped hair. The cut on your face was barely anything, but he needed an excuse to talk to you. He was afraid you would turn him away, but he was terrified that you wouldn't. He didn't know what to say to you. He didn't know how to begin to apologize for everything he's done. His palm grew sweaty and beads were beginning to form on his brow.

He was only a few steps away from your bedroom door and he was sorely tempted to turn back around when he noticed that it was cracked open and he could hear voices from inside. He should have followed his instinct to keep his distance but a high whine that definitely came from you pushed him to peak through the small opening.

What he saw made his already thumping heartbeat grow quicker. His eyes grew wide and his throat went dry. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn't this.

You. Stark naked. Grinding your mound on someone's face.

You looked absolutely glorious as you wound your hips in your chase for release; head thrown, back arched, and lips in a dreamy smile. The view he had of you, facing him and deep into your pleasure, was enough to cause his pants to tighten. He couldn't see which one of your teammates was beneath you, the bedframe blocking his view. Whoever they were, Bucky was jealous. He wanted to taste you too.

He felt that stirring of longing again now as he watched you in the throes of passion with another man. He felt it the moment you stepped back into their lives. He felt it during the 10 years they thought you were dead. And he felt it when you were still in training as a recruit every time you smiled at Pietro and Steve.

You picked up your pace and he could see muscular arms reach up to grip your waist and pull you down harder. You were panting curses, your breathing turning erratic and Bucky could see your thighs begin to shake. The sight of you coming undone has to be the most entrancing thing he's ever seen.

Movement from you and your partner pulled him from the hypnosis caused by your erotic display. His face heated up, deeply embarrassed at having watched you for so long and finding enjoyment in basically violating your privacy. He was about to leave when the man whose face you had been riding, came up to kneel behind you.

He pulled your hips back against his own, sliding his hard length easily into your dripping cunt causing you to moan so deliciously that Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine. You reached your hand up to grip the back of his head, letting him bury his own in your neck as he set a languid pace with his thrusts.

Your head rolled to the side and your eyes opened, locking directly with Bucky's. You smirked and reached down to circle your swollen bud, pressing your back further against the hard body rutting behind you and purposely putting on a show. You winked at him.

He bolted out of there.

"That wasn't very nice, honey," the low voice was thick with lust in your ear. His breathing was growing labored too, finding your heat wrapping around him overwhelming.

"I don't see you stopping, Captain."

"How can I when you're gripping me so tight?" He snapped his hips earning a sharp moan from you. "Did you like that? Torturing my best pal with me balls deep inside you?"

You sighed and closed your eyes. Apple pie Steve wouldn't have whispered such sinful things to you, but this Steve could make you cum with just filthy words alone.

"Yeah, you did. Look at you clenching and soaking my cock from having Bucky watch you. You like being bad to him, honey?"

A sudden smack to your ass had you snapping your eyes open. He chuckled into your neck, biting down hard on the juncture as he felt you gripping him even tighter.

"Answer," he growled, landing a harsher smack to your bottom.

"Yes! Yes, Captain, I did."

"Good. Will you be good for me now, honey? You caused a bit of trouble today." His thrusting was still slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein with each stroke as he drove you into a stupor. "Will you be a good girl for your Captain now?"

"Yes, Captain."

He smirked against your skin, pleased at your compliance. He was reveling in the power he had over you. Frank had said that you never took orders without a fight, but here you were being so good for him. Pliable. Yielding. He was enjoying it.

He gathered your hair in one hand and pulled, your back arching beautifully and emphasizing where his cock was buried deep inside you. With each thrust his cock came out glistening with your slick. The image made him lose control, abruptly escalating his pace to rail feverishly into you.

He had you gasping and clutching at the sheets instantly, begging for him to go harder and push you over the edge. He bent over you and reached around to rub furiously at your throbbing clit.

"Cum like a good girl, honey. Cum around my cock," he commanded. "I wanna feel you fucking drown me."

You came, lights dancing in your eyes and your head empty of all thoughts aside from the pleasure that racked your body. He followed soon after with a loud grunt, the sensation of you fluttering around him too much to resist.

He fell on top of you, spent and satisfied. Your sweat and heavy breaths mingling together as you both tried to return back to the world. You liked the heavy feel of him on top of you, strangely finding comfort in the weight.

He dragged you with him when he rolled off you, spooning you and planting kisses on the back of your shoulders that had your skin tingling from his beard.

"When are you going to put him out of his misery?"

"When it stops being fun?" you chuckled.

Steve wasn't going to push the issue. He knew that it was up to you whether you forgave Bucky or not and when that would be. It would be on your own terms how things moved. Just like what happened between you two. He wasn't expecting it, but the heated argument about the injuries you inflicted on one of his best agents had somehow escalated into him spanking you and you growing wet from it.

Not that either of you were complaining.

You turned around in his arms to face him, looking up at him with a taunting smirk. "You sure your old heart can take being in a polyamorous relationship?"

He chuckled and pecked your lips before going back in for a much deeper kiss that had you swooning. When he pulled back, he was looking at you lovingly.

"I'm known for waiting too long about things like this. I lost my shot at you 10 years ago. I'm not missing out on you again."

His words were firm and genuine. He honestly thought that he would mind having to share you with several other men. He thought that he would feel jealous and possessive. Instead, he felt reassured. He knew that wherever and whenever he lacked, someone else would pick it up and he would be the same. There was a sense of relief knowing that you would always be taken cared of by people who felt the same for you as he did.

"Well then you have some making up to do for waiting so long," you said nibbling at his lower lip.

He groaned and grabbed your thigh, hitching your leg up on his hip. Your thighs and core were still sticky and slippery from both your releases. His tongue dove into your mouth and he could feel you moan against his lips as he ran the tip of his cock against your still sensitive core. Your nails dug into his back as he sunk in, fitting perfectly inside you.

"You're running with a super soldier now, honey," he said, eyes burning with want. "I can do this all day."

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A/N: Some asked about Jill and Kim so here you go, lovelies. Come freak out with me in the comments and reblogs. Thank you all for the support! More coming soon.

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secondhand-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Catnip

Kinktober 2020 — aphrodisiac

A/N: not me searching up feline sexual behaviours as reference no I am not-

Pairing: neko!Kozume Kenma x f!reader

Description: Kenma felt like all his senses were being lit on fire when you came home one day with a very odd scent lingering on you.

Warning: aphrodisaic, dry humping, oral (giving), face fucking, slightly dubcon undertones midway, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, kenma is a cat boy but you already know by the title

Word count: 3747

Something was up with your scent, Kenma noticed that the moment you stepped through the door.

Even though he was all the way down the corridor in his gaming room, his ears perked up instantly when the abnormal scent flushed into his nostrils, twitching on top of his head as the sound of your steps got louder and louder.

“I’m home!” you latched onto him from the back as always, burying your face onto his soft ears and sighed at how satisfying it was. He felt chills running along his spine as the unfamiliar scent became overwhelmingly strong, his tail pointing as he went into high alert under his feline instincts of feeling like there was a strange entity that had crossed into his territory. There was a stir in his stomach as he felt his skin warming up as you rubbed the tip of his ears with your fingers, sighing about how long your day had been and how you had been thinking about getting home as quick as you could all day.

“I even took a shortcut,” you said, your arms that were wrapped around his shoulders now loosening up as you prepared to change out of your work clothes, “never again though, that road was barely visible with all the weed that grew all over it and it’s kinda scary at night.”

Kenma didn’t say anything, his eyes going wide as he blankly stared ahead at his screen. His nostrils flared, trying hard to make sense of what it was that you now smell of. He shuddered when you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly behind his ears but he still didn’t respond to you in any way. You tilted your head, confused as to what had gotten into him but decided to leave him be with a peck on top of his head.

Cats, no one could understand them except themselves when they got into the mood.

Kenma acted very distant, and much more... cat-like than he usually was in the hours to follow. He just kept staring at you and skittering around when you tried to initiate any physical affection. He was always a bit on and off when it comes to clinginess and you had learned a long time ago that looking at someone from a distance away was also part of the feline love language but his gaze felt almost threatening tonight. His pupils were two thin lines right in the center of his golden orbs, eyeing you like he was observing his prey with his tail flicking behind him. He went on high alert every time you moved from where you were at, his ears pointing up as his stare immediately followed you.

“Kenma, I’m going to take a shower. Do you need to use the bathroom?” you asked, peeking out of the corridor with your clothes. He seemed startled when you looked into his eyes, scurrying away until he was at the other end of the room. He was so strange today, you would have to bring it up to him later when he got back to normal.

Kenma let out a deep breath when the bathroom door locked and the sound of water running subtly passed through his ears. He had been feeling so on edge around you all day, ever since he picked up on the scent lingering on you. It was sweet, a sickly sweetness that made his skin crawl and hair going up in all the directions. He could barely sit still when you got close to him and he was having a bad feeling as to what exactly it was that you had got the scent from.

The scent lingered in the air even when you were in the shower, making him feel an odd burn on his face. Sniffing around, the scent got stronger and stronger as he paced towards your shared bedroom. The closer he got to the source, the hotter his face felt. His breaths were heavy despite his best efforts to calm down and his fist curled and uncurled as the muscles of his stomach spasm. The long jacket that you wore to work was laid out on the bed and he cursed his instincts when he could not help but crawl on top of the crisp material. The sweetness was now overbearingly strong and his head felt stuffed like he just got a fever out of nowhere.

He trailed down from the collar, sniffing along the way until he got to the hem and his mind exploded when the smell completely overtook his brain like a punch right at his guts.

It spread through his body like a rush of warm current entering his system, seeping into his skin and making his back arched in reflex. Every last bit of his rationality told him to get away, to stop letting this strange substance overwhelm him but his body already gave in to the primal instinct tickling his head. The claws at the tip of his fingers extended and retracted, bunching up the sheets underneath him as he brought the jacket closer to his face. He let out a choked whimper as his limbs felt like they were out of his control, every fiber in his body flaming up as the mix of your scent and the sweet smell evaded his senses. He twisted around uncontrollably, falling onto his side as he clutched the material in hand.

More. He wanted more.

The pounding in his ear was all he could process as his body moved on its own, desperately searching for any hint of relief for the pulsing ache in his groins that was taking over his brain. He let out a soft hiss at the first roll of his hips against the mattress, burying his face to inhale the lingering scent as he humped against the surface desperate for friction.

For a second, he was both hyperaware and too drown in the blood rushing through his veins to pick up anything happening around him. The sheets wrinkling up underneath him as his legs kicked uncontrollably to steady himself while grinding down, the growing warmth in his core from the friction that was not enough, the hint of your perfume at the collar of the jacket that wasn’t masked by the unknown scent. It all crashed up on him like a storm as he snapped his hips forward vigorously around nothing. He was too lost and in too unclear of a state of mind to care that his muffled moans were getting louder and louder or that the sound of the running shower had stopped.

“Hn... Ah- hmp!”

You paused in your steps when you walked into your room to hear the erotic whimpers of your usually collected boyfriend. Your hand that was holding up the towel wrapped around your torso clutched at the soft white material as a spark jolted through your spine in shock at the sight of Kenma grinding against the bed with your jacket in hand. His hips curving up with each lift and his feet clawing beneath for leverage. The fur on his tail was standing up straight as it pointed upwards, his ears pressed flat on his head and his face buried into your outerwear.

“Kenma...?”

He jolted when you called for his name. Turning around in an agonisingly slow pace, your breath hitched in your throat when you saw his pupils dilute the moment it landed on your scantily clad form. His golden eyes burnt onto your skin, scanning you from top to bottom. You could see his chest heaving much more strongly the moment he stopped at your exposed collar and bare legs that still had beads of moisture dripping down their lines. If his body was burning before, then now it felt like a heavy downpour right after a long day of blatant sunshine, the hot steam rising up in the air until he could barely even breathe.

You took tentative steps towards the bed, his breathing getting more and more erratic with each flare of his nostrils. His fingers dug into the jacket he cast an iron grip on when you got closer, the floral scent of your shower gel mixing into the bombard of signals that his brain was already receiving. Facing him directly as he crouched over the bed, you could see the obvious print straining against his sweatpants. His ears twitched when you slowly grabbed onto the jacket and you could feel his hands shaking when your fingers held onto his wrist, gently peeling the coat away from his hand.

He snapped the moment you leaned up and kissed him square on the lips.

His hands latched onto you in an instance, ripping a hiss from the back of your throat with his claws that he had forgotten to retract back with nothing but the want of feeling you in his head. He greedily slipped his tongue past your lips at the slightest pant you made, stealing away every ounce of oxygen in your lungs with his ruthless evasion. He moaned into your mouth, the feeling of your skin cooling his burning system down and he peeled away the towel on your body with a rough yank to search for more. His hard-on was pressed up against your pussy, his hands placed firmly at the sides of your hips to hold you down.

Smells so good. He buried his face at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent to the most of his desires. His teeth scraped past your skin, making you tilt your head back instinctively before he bit down. You yelped at the sudden pain, chills crawling all over your arms when he followed the bite with a few kitten licks of his textured tongue. Your hands flew to wrap around his neck, clutching onto him as he ground against you and continued his nibbling all along your shoulders. You felt the familiar stir at the pit of your stomach at his needy moans and the friction he applied to your sex, his erection feeling incredibly hot when rubbing against you.

“Ke- Kenma!”

A string of incomprehensible noises resembling a weak scrawl rumbled from his chest at your pant, the pace of his hips only getting faster. He was a lot sloppier than he usually was when he had you pinned down underneath him, the usual calculation gone without a trace and all was replaced by the carnal desire of getting more, more, more.

His breath was hot on your neck, the patches where he had left bite marks on burning from the pain and the feeling of his tongue still lingered. Your own wetness was starting to seep out of you, leaving a mark on his sweatpants as he humped against you. He was starting to get impatient as his shoulders tensed up, his jaw clenched tightly as he bit his lips. He shuddered as the first wave of his orgasm hit, the warmth reaching to your body with the stickiness that was seeping through the cotton of his loungewear. You held his head with a breathy coo, patting the back of his neck as you coaxed him down.

The look in his eyes was near dangerous when he sensed that you wanted to move away from his grip, pushing your hips down as he perched on top of you again. Your eyes widened when you saw the tent that had yet to gone away beneath the darker patch on his crotch from his cum.

You knew that something was up with him when he was acting weird around you, but you did not expect him to act up like this.

"Mph-!” he let out a choked moan when you pressed your palm flat on his semi-erection as you gave his shoulder a light push. He protested when you got up, only to shudder when you hooked your fingers under the elastic band of his pants and yanked it down.

His cock was an angry shade of red, a bead of pre already forming at the tip even after cumming once. His face was flushed, staring at you with glassy eyes as you sat back on your knees in front of him. Kenma let out a loud whimper when you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, feeling it pulsed and filled up in your hand. You licked a long strip from the base all the way up to his tip, pressing your tongue flat against it before licking away the white droplet at the slit. You were gripping onto his thighs for leverage and his muscles spasm under your touch even with you barely doing anything.

His hands were fast to find their way to your hair when you sunk down on his length, the heat in his chest far too unbearable for him to accept your pace. A sudden pull at your scalp took you by shock and as your lips wrapped around his girth, an instant soreness shot up from your throat up to your nose when he thrust up without warning. Tears welled up in your eyes as your gag reflex was taken hold by his cock hitting against the back of your throat, drool pooled in your mouth as you gasped but he was too gone to notice your discomfort. You struggled to gulp as he continued to fuck your face with a hold on your hair that was a bit too tight, the pain making you arch your back in reflex. Your vision was clouded by the tears in your eyes, each slam of your head down shoving your lips all the way to the very base of his cock, your nose almost touching his pubic hair before he pulled out with the help of your spit that was leaking out from the corners of your mouth.

Kenma tilted his head back as he used your mouth to his pleasure, the feverish redness on his face spreading all the way to the tip of his ears and down his neck. His hair was matted to the frames of his face with sweat, his tail stiffly pointed as his hips clenched with each thrust into your warm mouth. Your face was a mess, tears rolling down your chin and met with the trails of spit that was dribbling down at the edge of your jaw. Your fingers dug into his thighs as you tried to focus on the lewd moans falling off his parted lips and the way his body shook each time your throat contracted around his cock. Your jaw felt slack like it would unhinge if his rough treatment goes on any longer and your throat was beyond sore, your voice was sure to betray the events of tonight for the many days to come.

You were starting to feel a cramp creeping up onto the side of your thighs when he twitched in your mouth, the vein on his cock pulsing as his grip on your hair tightened. Your eyes rolled back when he pulled down, holding you firmly as the first taste of saltiness dripped on your tongue and down your throat. You tried to ignore the discomfort in your nasal, fixing your gaze on his blissful expression through your eyelashes that were blurred by your tears. It was rare to see Kenma completely letting go but today you saw his lust being displayed in the rawest form.

The sight of you struggling to swallow his load was far from pretty. You clutched your chest as you tried to breath, the warm liquid going down your throat made you hurt a little from the burn. More of your spit drooled out of your lips with his cum, dripping down from your face down your neck and onto your tits.

You heaved as you looked up at him only to see that he was looking at you already. Whimpering when he latched onto you, his skin was still hot under your touch as his tongue swiped across your bottom lips.

Another smell now mixed into the symphony of scents that was spreading with your heat and it was the signs of his mark on you.

It only did the opposite to calming down whatever it was that was affecting his body and mind.

“Kenma, wait-”

You were cut short when he pushed you down on the mattress, now hovering above you and shadowing you completely. His tail flicked behind him as he stared down at you. He was blocking the light from you and from beneath him, it was like his eyes were glowing in the shadows as he lowered himself onto you.

“Ah!” you mewled at the feeling of his cock pushing into your cunt, the lack of stimulation beforehand making the stretch all the more permanent. He let out the most sinful whine at the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on him. If humping against you and being wrapped up by your lips had let off the steam that was threatening to over pour in him, then finally being inside your tight cunt was what had the lid tipping over.

You scratched down his back when he started moving, the pain slowly replaced with pleasure when your slick coated around his length with each push and pull. Your legs wanted to give in but you muttered out the last bit of your strength to sling them around his waist. The movements of his body were sloppy, his face right in front of yours as he plowed into the furthest he could reach.

“H- hmph! So good- so good...” His voice came out as a purr, the vibrations hitting you in full force as he pressed up against you.

It was the smell of sweat and your entangled scents that fueled him when the sound of skin slapping against skin and irregular pants bounced off the walls. If it had just been the sweet aphrodisiac that tainted your clothes, he was sure that he could at least keep part of his control but then you came in at just the best wrong timing and flood him over with the worst itch he had ever felt.

You pulled him in for a kiss, your hands reached for the back of his head as your tongues tangled together with each bounce of your body under his force. He hilted in you when you scratched down on the back of his ear, feeling his entire body shook. This egged him to go faster, the shivers traveling all over his body to the very tip of his toes at the mind-melting numbness like volts of electricity.

The fist in your core coiled and you felt your body being set on fire with the heat on his skin transferring to you. His eyes were shut tight into two thin lines as he pressed his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face with each exhale.

"I'm close-” your voice came out trembling, your nails digging down his back but he didn’t seem to even notice the pain at all. You hands flailed as you felt your orgasm building up, clumsily searching for the one spot you knew could push him to the edge until you felt something soft and fuzzy brushing over your hand.

“Hugh-”

A yank at the base of his tail had him throwing his head back, his body shaking from the sudden stimulation. You did it again, this time more forcefully as his thrusts became more rapid.

You never thought you would hear such a sound fell from his lips as he came crashing down, shooting ropes of cum inside of your fluttering cunt. It was a high pitched sound with his voice breaking a little at the end. He had his eyes rolled back, pupils dilated and unfocused as his tongue darted out from the corner of his plump lips. You were completely worn out but still couldn’t help but marvel at how pretty he was when he gave in utterly. The stickiness ran down the root of your thighs as he stayed inside of you, the parts where your bodies connected still emitting warmth and spreading all over your system.

You stared up as the ceiling as your hands fell to your sides, collecting your breath.

This had got to be the last one.

You nearly let out an exasperated gasp when you felt him slowly getting hard inside of you again.

The sudden emptiness when he pulled out of you had you whining, his cum gushing out of your abused hole when he flipped you over. You barely had any strength to arch your back up when he gripped onto your ass, holding you up as you buried your face into the pillow in front of you.

Your moans were muffled when he entered you again, your still sensitive cunt spasming around him and pushing more of your mixed fluids out of you. You were sure that your mess was dripped down and pooling between your knees already but you couldn’t think of that right now when he was balls deep inside of you again.

He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your neck as if he was apologising, before jerking your body forward with a strong hilt.

Kenma’s purrs filled your ears when he finally flopped down next to you, pulling you close to his chest so you could calm down with the soothing sound of the rumbling from his throat.

You were still heaving when you finally found the voice in you to speak up, sounding ridiculously strained from all the screaming and squealing you had been doing.

“What was that...?”

“Catnip.”

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You smelled like catnip when you came back,” he sighed, rubbing circles on your back, “and I snapped.”

You blinked, your eyes widening when you finally made the connection between the weed-covered shortcut you took that night and everything that ensued afterwards.

“I’m never taking that route ever again.”

Kenma hummed, burying his nose in your hair when you shifted in his hold.

“But...” your eyes were glinting with a spark that didn’t seem like it belonged to someone who was so tired out, “the fact that you had such little resilience towards catnip could be useful information...”

He sighed, pressing you closer to his chest to hide your cheeky grin away.

“Don’t start anything you couldn’t finish.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #kenma x reader #kenma imagines #kenma imagine #kenma smut #kinktober 2020

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Note

📋 Hello I am putting a formal request in for more Chris Saves Himself AU ft Mama Nakamura taking him I’m home only to realize the full situation

Continuing the Chris Saves Himself AU: One | Two |

CW: Grief, memory loss, recovering whumpee, some very brief and very vague references to noncon, minor whumpee (OC is 17), angsty fluff, reunion

It takes six days for the cops to let Akio's mom bring Tristan back to their house.

He's ready to be discharged from the hospital by day two, but there's nowhere for him to go. WRU is still saying there's no record of his existence, even with the barcode on his wrist. Tristan's only known living relative, Joanne Botham, is claiming he ran away from home and she had no idea what happened to him, that what she had told the Nakamura family was out of frustration and anger at Tristan for disappearing. The governor is out on bail facing charges for keeping Tristan in the mansion in the first place.

There are a lot of charges.

Akio feels by turns numb and enraged when he hears a news anchor read them out loud, bloodless words that don't seem to reflect at all how serious their meanings are.

The first few, he can process - false imprisonment, bodily assault - but then they keep going, and they get worse in ways Akio can barely even begin to imagine.

What Tristan has lived through... Akio's brain refuses to let it coalesce fully, but he has nightmares, dreams about Tristan screaming for him and being on the other side of a door Aki can't open.

He dreams about hands on Tristan's body and the way he might have screamed for help. Akio wakes up crying, retching, running to the bathroom to throw up whatever he's eaten that day as if he can rid himself of the poison of knowing.

His mom calls a therapist.

His father tells him to stop watching the news.

Akio just waits until they're in bed and searches for everything he can find on twitter, on reddit, on every-fucking-place anyone is talking about this. And it's everywhere.

He stops telling his parents about his nightmares after the second night.

Oliver Branch says WRU sold him a product they knew was outside the bounds of the law and lied to him about it. WRU says they don't know what he could possibly mean by that and they have no paperwork or documentation that Tris was ever in the system at all, and if he was, then there must have been a mistake about his age. They swear they'll do a total review of every single Box Boy, Babe, or Buddy to ensure absolute compliance.

The soundbites make Akio's mouth dry.

How many are there, then? If they have to keep looking to find more? How many like Tristan?

How many?

Joanne Botham, who never answers Aimi's furious calls and then changes her number after the second day, goes on TV and says she did nothing wrong and there's no proof that anything happened except maybe Tristan lying about his name and age to make WRU agree to take him in. Oliver Branch says he has the proof WRU knew, and he'll provide it in exchange for immunity.

They all point fingers at each other on national television, in press conferences and through their attorneys.

Through it all, Tristan sits in a hospital bed staring out the window at the blue sky as though it will be stolen from him all over again, waiting to be told where to go, what to do.

And it takes Aimi nearly a week to get the police to agree to allow her to take him home. She brings everything she can think of to meetings with the detectives heading up the case, shows them reams of team photos and home movies, folders and folders of everything Aimi and Mrs. Higgs had ever talked about or done together with the boys.

The hospital needs the room, needs the bed. The detectives don't want to put him into foster care when he barely seems to understand he's a person. The social services people won't take him because they're not equipped to handle a situation like this one. The adjustment houses don't want him because of something to do with what kind of Boxie he was, and Aimi doesn't elaborate and something in the set of her expression makes it clear Akio shouldn't ask.

After a week of mostly just being able to look at him through the small little square window in the hospital room's door, Aimi finally gets legal permission to take him out of there.

Akio isn't prepared for the slew of news vans that are there when he and Aimi arrive, someone having tipped off reporters that they might get a glance of the governor's secret Box Boy today. Aimi, though, simply sets her shoulders, slides a pair of dark sunglasses on, and walks through the crowd like a queen with her head held high, a small duffel bag handle in hand.

Akio hurries behind her, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, hood pulled over his head, trying to ignore ten thousand camera flashes. It's so much worse than the leadup to the Olympics would have been, if he were still performing at elite.

Or at all.

He has a strange, surreal hope that Tris won't be disappointed in him for quitting after Tris died.

Even though he's not dead.

They step into the hospital room around 10 in the morning to find Tristan not in the bed, but sitting on the couch built into the wall under the window, curled up on the crinkly plastic cushions to look out the window, humming low, soft and tuneless.

The hum makes Akio's heart ache with a sudden realization that this odd waking dream he's been living for a week isn't a dream at all. Tears flood his eyes and he has to blink them away as fast as he can. He's heard that hum in his ear as kids during sleepovers, he's heard it when Tris was nervous before performing a new routine, he's heard it while they waited anxiously for scores or studied for school.

"Hey, sweetheart," Aimi says, her voice low and soft, but even so Tris jumps and turns to look at them with wide, startled eyes. One hand goes up to his neck, and Akio swallows when he sees Tris has wrapped gauze around his neck to sit like the collar he was wearing when he fell from the governor's bedroom balcony.

Akio watched the cell phone video that made the rounds over and over and over again. The flash of red hair, shirtless, the bruises he was covered with, his hazy drugged eyes. Over and over and over again.

Watch him fall, watch him land, watch the people run to him and get him out of there when Akio has been sitting here crying his eyes to red half the time for a dead best friend who wasn't dead at all.

"H, Hello," Tristan says, but he doesn't know them. Akio can tell, the way his eyes move between them is uncertain, unsure. "Hello, ma'am. Can, can, can I, what..." He swallows, shivering, and Akio watches the fear move across his face. "What... what can I... do for you?"

His slowed-down voice makes Akio feel sick. He's only ever seen Tristan do that when he's with people who don't understand him or love him for who he is. Now it seems like it's the only way he remembers how to talk.

All Tristan's muscles from gymnastics are gone, leaving only faded shadows of his strength behind. He's skinny, so pale he nearly reflects the light from the ceiling. His freckles are faded, and his hair is shorter than Tris ever liked it.

Being so thin makes his eyes even bigger, they seem to overwhelm the rest of his face.

"Honey, we're going to take you to our house," Aimi says, keeping her voice the same low gentle cadence. "While we figure out what happens next. Aki and I will be taking care of you for a while. How's that sound? Would that be okay?"

Tristan looks between them again, and something shifts in his face. A kind of desperation moves there, and he turns more fully to face them, leaning over a little to look up at them. Hair falls over his forehead, and his hands move to rub over the texture of a loose pair of sweatpants someone gave him to wear under his hospital gown. "To... your house? Would I be... yours?"

He looks at Akio again, and there's something in his face that says he sees that as the best case scenario, that he was ready for far, far worse than simply changing owners. That he's... hoping he'll be Akio's property now.

Akio's stomach flips at the thought and he has to put a hand over his mouth and turn away, catching the sob before it can make its way up out of his throat.

Aimi's arm moves around his shoulders instinctively, and she leans over, pressing a kiss to her son's short black hair. "It's okay," Aimi whispers. "It'll be hard at first. But it's going to be okay, Aki. Saishūtekini wa daijōbudesu. Tristan wa mada anata no shin'yūdesu."

Tristan, sitting on the little couch, blinks a few times. "Friend," he says in English, a little haltingly. "Shin' yu. Means... best friend." He scoots closer to them along the couch, and his eyes are so big and so very, very green. Just how Akio always remembered them.

Aimi's head raises and turns to look at him, her arm tightening around Aki, breath catching in her throat. "You remember that?"

"No." Tristan shakes his head. Scoots a little closer, even. "Yes. I don't know why. Are you..." He looks at Akio. "Wa-... watashitachiha... sh-shin, um, shin-shin'yūdeshita. Yes? Did I-... did I say it right?"

Tristan's Japanese was never great, he'd just picked up some here and there from all the time he spent around the Nakamuras at home and in their car. They used to lay awake at night during sleepovers practicing over and over until Tristan had a new phrase to impress Aimi with.

But hearing his voice, his living breathing real live voice, sounding out the words...

It's too much.

It's too fucking much.

"Yeah, um, y-yeah, you-..." Akio's words are suddenly gone. He chokes on his fear that this somehow is a dream he will wake up from to find Tris still cold in some unknown open grave, and he can't keep the tears back any longer.

His knees buckle under the onslaught of grief and hope and fear and love, and he drops to the cold tile hospital floor, hands pressed over his mouth until his lips are pushed painfully into his teeth, and he wails, muffled but loud enough that there's rustling as the cops guarding the door turn to look inside through the viewing window.

Aimi drops into a crouch behind him, rubbing at his back as he curls over himself. Her voice trembles with tears she doesn't shed. Akio remembers the days after they were told Tristan was dead, how she would cry in her room at night with Aki's dad when he was home from work, but somehow when he and Emi were bawling their heads off, her voice stayed calm, she kept her composure.

Right up until she was alone.

Now, though, she's barely hanging on as her son sobs on a hospital room floor before the emptied-out shell of his best friend.

Bare feet pad along the floor until Tristan drops down in front of him, reaching slowly out. Cool fingertips touch the back of Akio's hand, and he pulls them slowly down to look and see Tristan only a foot or so away from him, kneeling, watching him.

"I know you," Tristan whispers. "It hurts, but... I know... you. Don't, um, don't I?"

Akio can barely see him through the tears that have turned the world to watercolor suggestions. Nothing's in focus. But he grabs onto Tristan's hand, those familiar always-cold fingers, and holds tight.

"You know m-me," He manages. "You do, Tris. You know me. We-... we know you. We want to t-t-take you h-home."

Tristan tilts his head to the side, and it's such a familiar gesture, one he was so sure he'd never get to see again. "My... name is Baldur," He says, softly. "My Sir named me-"

"Please don't call him that. Can you... can you answer to Tristan? Please?" Akio is the one to reach out this time, touching Tristan's shoulder, hesitant. Waiting for him to pull back and away, to flinch like he's been doing when they watch him with the nurses.

Instead, Tris takes a breath and leans into the touch.

"It hurts," He says. "But, but, but, but-... but I can try."

Akio nods, and then Tristan is moving forward, and their arms are around each other and Akio is scared of himself for a second, scared of the welling of feelings he can't control. He's afraid he'll crack Tristan's ribs with how tightly he holds on.

Tristan's face buries itself against his neck, into the crook of his shoulder.

"I missed you so much," Akio whispers against the coppery hair. He's going to start crying again. He can hear his mom sniffing behind him, digging into her purse to pull out the little pack of tissues she always has in there. "I missed you so, so much, Tris."

"I think... I think I, I, I missed you, too," Tristan whispers back, and Akio isn't sure if he can even know if he means it, but he also knows that it's so good to hear the words that he doesn't even care.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @what-a-whump @whumptywhumpdump @downriver914 @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

#whump #chris saves himself AU #chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #rescued whumpee #escaped whumpee #recovering whumpee #memory loss #dehumanized whumpee #reference to collars #grief tw #referenced death #caretaker and whumpee #memory recovery #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box boy whump #minor whumpee

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aftokrvteira · 4 years ago

Text

late night (m)

pairing: eren yaeger/jaeger x fem!reader warnings: nsfw, riding, vaginal sex, choking, creampie, dom!reader. word count: 1.6 k

summary: eren has spent the whole day playing on his phone and you’re done with his bullshit so the only sensical thing to do is to fuck him hard to show him who’s boss.

It’s late and you’re tired. You don’t know why are you tired exactly, maybe it’s just because you were really bored through the entire day. A perfect saturday, wasted, all because your boyfriend is obsessed with a phone game. It was cute the first few weeks, seeing how excited he was, how involved he got, especially because you were the one who told him about the game in the first place. Now you didn’t even had it in your phone anymore. But Eren was addicted to it.

The entire day you just watched him play and cheer or get angry about it. You binge watched your shows, saw a bunch a youtube videos, scrolled through all of your social media pages and he was just there. Sometimes he would blow a kiss in your direction or pat your leg but other than that it was like you were alone all day.

You walked out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your hair. You put on your pajamas: a cute short and tank top set Eren himself gave you on your last birthday. You had your night-time cereal, brushed your teeth and headed to your room, while Eren stayed on the couch.

It was around 2 AM when you felt him lay down next to you. You were still looking at dumb memes to lull you and didn’t bothered to look at him.

“I barely made it” he said, triumphant. He was smiling and you just gave him a small smile in return “I won all the game rewards just in time...I almost shit my pants”

“That’s cool, Eren” you mumbled, putting down your phone and turning your back to him. He didn’t seem to get your unenthusiastic tone because you felt him scooting closer to hug you tightly. You felt his warm breathing right next to your ear and tried to move away from it “Please, it’s very hot in here”

“You wan’t me to turn the a/c on?” he asked. You shrugged and a few minutes later you heard the beep and the soft purring of the machine. You covered yourself with your blankets. “Hey, come here, I want to hug you” you sighed but still complied with him and rested your head on his chest. He smelled good, a mixture of laundry detergent and after-shave lingered on his skin. That’s right, you remembered. He did paused his stupid game to stay on the bathroom for three hours. It never took him that long to take a shower so, judging by the after-shave scent, you reached his face, noticing that his god-awful beard was finally gone from his face. He hummed when he felt your fingers “You like it?”

“Mhm”

“I also shaved down there” he said “You wanna feel it?” you giggled and gave him a gentle pat over his sweats. Eren gave you a gentle squeeze “You didn’t felt it”

“Of course I did”

“No, you did it wrong”

“Ugh, fine” you rolled your eyes and managed to slide your hand under his pants and feel his clean balls. It was such a weird texture and you weren’t sure you liked it or not “There, I felt them”

“And?”

“It’s okay? I guess?” you wanted to get your hand out of his sweats but on your way out you felt something else “Are you seriously getting a boner?”

“He’s just saying hi”

“Why do you have to be so horny all the time?”

“I’m not, he just wants some good night kisses” Eren grabbed your hand and placed it over his hard on. You thought about it for a few seconds. It wasn’t like you weren’t in the mood, you were, of course, but you were also kinda mad at him for ignoring you the whole day. In the end and to avoid an argument between you two, you leaned down as he pulled down his sweats. You could barely see his dick in the dark, but you managed to pepper the tip with soft kisses that made him chuckle. You stroked his length up and down with your hand for brief seconds and then just licked the tip, introducing it into your mouth to lazily suck on it, bobbing your head up and down. You heard him sigh as you took it out of your mouth and slapped it against your tongue before sucking on it again. “That feels good, babe...” his fingers ran through your hair and before you could so anything he held your head in place and started thrusting his hips into your mouth with a steady pace. You tried to relax your jaw but that night your gag reflex was being really annoying. You pulled away with your eyes filled with tears.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You nodded and kept stroking his cock. He ran his fingers up and down your back “I was wondering...” Eren’s voice was soft as a whisper “I’d like you to ride me”

You thought about it for a few seconds. You were tired but you were also horny. Tomorrow morning he would be gone because he spent his sundays with his friends. There wouldn’t be another shot to ease your wants until next weekend. You got off the bed and took off your shorts, climbing on top of him. You were already wet and his dick was slick due to your own saliva, so it slid inside of you fairly easy. Eren placed his hands on your hips as you started to move them, slowly, adjusting to his size. You bit your lip, leaning forward to place your hands on his chest. That was the only thing that you wanted the whole day. The time to enjoy yourself and to be the center of his attention. You didn’t realized how much you needed his cock until you felt it twitch inside, filling you up just right.

You started to move your hips up and down, feeling how his dick was going in and out. You were in control this time, not him, and this realization made you even hornier. Eren was always pretty dominant during sex, he controlled your orgasms, your moans... But now you were, literally, above him. He lifted up your tank top to free your breasts and you shuddered when his hand cupped them and started to play with your nipples. Instead to surrender to his touches, you leaned back, placing your hands on his thighs getting out of his reach. The darkness was enough to just figure out the other’s silhouette, but other than that, you couldn’t see his face. You could only hear his soft moans and grunts, along with the wet sounds your pussy made when you moved against his dick.

At times you increased the pace of your hips, trying to feel him as deep as you could and when he hit your cervix you let out a loud moan only to slow down and start again. His fingers digged into your soft skin and sweat was starting to run down your forehead and nape.

“Babe, you’re amazing” you heard him sigh and you smiled, running your hands over his chest.

“Yeah?” you asked, leaning in for a kiss, tasting his tongue against yours. You rolled your hips and he let out a groan “You like how I’m riding you?” you bit his lower lip, sitting straight on top of him. Your hands were just over his clavicles and you tried to imagine his face. You thought about his flushed cheeks, his mouth and soft lips, parted, waiting for another kiss...something inside of you was deeply turned on and you wrapped both of your hands around his neck as you practically bounced on top of his cock.

Eren started moaning as you never heard him before and the sound mixed with the wet slaps of your ass smacking his thighs made you feel over the edge. Maybe this was what really turned Eren on. The power of being on top and to handle you as he pleased. You never thought about it enough but with this one taste you declared yourself addicted.

“You wanna cum, baby?” you asked. He whimpered and you caressed his cheek until you reached his hair, entangling your fingers with the brown strands to tug it back “Speak, Eren. You wanna cum?”

“F-fuck...” he stammered, trying to hold you in place but his hands couldn’t stop you. Your walls clenched around his cock and you could feel him twitch inside of you. With a devilish smile you leaned to kiss his neck and moan into his ear, leaving soft bite marks along his skin.

“Next time you spend your time with a fucking game” you whispered “I’m going to fuck you senseless, you heard me? You’re mine, Jaeger, you hear me?” you rolled your hips and have him another hair pull. He gasped “You hear me?” he nodded and you gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

You placed your hands on his chest to start riding him with a faster rhythm, letting out shameless moans as your clit rubbed agains his skin, making your belly tighter and tighter. Eren was moaning as well and with one last deep thrust you felt him cum inside. His hot semen covered your walls and you felt it starting dripping out of you. He was panting softly but you weren’t done. You kept moving your hips against his over sensitive dick, to bring him to the delicious point of overstimulation. He was trembling under you.

You brought one hand towards your clit and started rubbing it furiously, still with his cock inside of you.

“Oh, god, y/n, god...” he moaned. You didn’t stop until you felt all of your body stiffen and then explode with an intense orgasm. “Fuck!”

You plopped right next to him, panting softly. He was silent for a few moments.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked and you shrugged.

“Ignore me again and you’ll find out.”

#eren jaeger smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #snk smut #aot smut #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader

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itisannak · 3 years ago

Text

Parenthood Rehearsal (Ashton Irwin Fluff)

Summary: Ashton and (Y/N) babysit her baby nephew. Based on Love Prompts: #14: “Let’s have a baby.” & #35: “This is why I fell in love with you.” (Words: 2.3k) (Request)

"Make sure the milk is not too hot." My sister says, peeking inside the stroller for one more look at her son, who is suckling on his pacifier. "You already told me that." I remind her, sighing as I try to remain patient with her. "And when you put him to bed, make sure you don't tuck him in too tight. He moves a lot and it is not safe." She states, holding up his little blanket. "Honey, can we go? We are going to be late." My brother-in-law points out, tapping at his watch. It is my sister's first time leaving her son and going out for the night, and it is even worse since the wedding they are attending is too far away for them to return tonight and pick Benny up. I can partially understand her, even though this talk by the door really gets on my very last nerve. "We have got this." I assure her. Ashton smiles and nods, rolling the stroller further into the house. This is the only way to get them to leave already. "If anything happens..." She begins and I groan. "If anything happens, we will let you know. Now leave. Or you are going to make it to the wedding after the couple leaves for their honeymoon." I hold the door for her and she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You will see him at lunch. You look gorgeous, have fun." I try to sweeten the goodbye, but I can tell she is having a hard time. My brother-in-law mouths a thank you as his hand rests on her lower back and he guides her out of the house. "Call me before his bedtime." Is the last thing my sister says before I close the door to her face.

I make my way to the living room, where Ashton has already set up the portable playpen for my nephew. "Alright. How is my favorite guy?" I cheer at the baby, picking him out of his stroller and holding him to my chest, bouncing him to make him giggle. "I am alright. Just a little sore from setting this up." Ashton replies, even though he knows I am talking to the baby. "Bold of you to assume you are my favorite guy." I tease my husband, making him fake-gasp and touch his chest in pretend offense. "Ouch. 7 months old and he already stole my spot..." He shakes his head, walking closer to me. He leans down, planting a kiss on my forehead before he takes a seat on the couch. "One of us will have to take care of dinner." I state, joining him on the couch. I bounce the baby as Ashton hands me one of multi-textured toys. "Or we can order in." He suggests as I hold the toy out for the baby boy to grasp. "I am a horrible housewife." I sigh, earning a chuckle from Ash. "Your aunt is being funny." He says to the baby, tapping his nose. The little boy finds his hand more interesting than the toy I am holding, reaching to grasp my husband's fingers. "You are not a housewife. And takeout does not mean you are horrible." He replies, letting the baby play with his hand. "I could really go for Tex-Mex tonight." I mumble and he hums. "I could really go for it too. What time should he eat?" Ash asks, picking up Ben so he can hold him and let the kid play with his fingers. "In about 2 hours. But we will have to bathe him first." I reply and he hums. "That means we get to play with the little dude for at least an hour..." He says cheerfully. "You know, I kinda get my sister... I would have a hard time letting go of that dude too. I will probably have a hard time letting him go tomorrow." I sigh, stroking my hand over the soft hair on top of the baby's head. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?" He asks and I shrug. "He is just so cute..." I pout, taking Ben's little hand in mine. "That he is. Come on, let's give him some tummy-time." Ash suggests, pressing his lips on my forehead. Ashton lets Ben on the crawling mattress he has laid on the floor of our living room, laying aside him on his tummy as well. Ben quickly finds his way to the playpen, crawling the short distance without any problems. "Good job, buddy." Ashton cheers, scooting towards him.

I test the water's temperature with the little toy duck thermometer, seeing if the water is too hot for the little guy. "It will take us a fortnight to gather all his stuff..." Ashton sighs, undressing the baby for his bath. "She swore she would bring only the essential..." I mumble, picking the lavender wash out the toiletries bag. "She does realize he will only spend a night at our place, right?" He asks, slowly lowering the baby into his baby tub. "For her feels like a century. Come on, be lenient... It is her first time leaving him." I giggle, kneeling to wash him. "Should I go make a bottle?" He asks, standing aside to let me move with ease. "I think it is too soon. We will have to dress him up before we feed him, and by then the milk will be cold." I reply, wetting the baby's head. "I will go lay his clothes on our bed." He offers and I nod. "Thank you. But make sure you are here to help me pick him out of the tub." I flinch just at the thought of picking him up and him slipping from my hands. "I will only be gone for a minute." He assures me, walking out of our bathroom. Ben flails his hands in the water, splashing around as I use the soft-bristle brush to wash his hair. The whole bathroom smells like lavender soap and that makes me feel soft and mellow. I sigh, thinking of how it will be when Ashton and I decide to have a baby. When we got married two years ago, we decided to just take time to enjoy one another, see the world and submerge ourselves in new experiences, so having children was not a conversation we truly ever had. At least not seriously, not taking into consideration the logistics behind it. But ever since my sister announced her pregnancy, this need of becoming a mother myself was stirred up. And it got worse since Ben was born since I got to hold my nephew in my arms. It does not help that Ashton is so good with him. Fatherhood looks natural on him, and the sight of him holding the baby makes my heart race. I cannot help it, picturing him with our own baby, imagining how good he will be as a parent. But I also know he is such a good parent because he practically raised his siblings. And then he became the father of the group, the older mentor for his friends. It is more than certain that he needs a break from that role, and I understand that. Sighing, I grab the rinsing cup and wash the shampoo off Ben's head. I lather his washcloth with the cleanser and softly cleanse his skin, making sure I don't scrub too harshly on his sensitive skin. "Everything ok in here?" Ashton asks, resting against the doorframe. "Yes, we are done in a minute." I smile at my husband who picks up the baby's towel and preps it in his arms to carry him to our bedroom. I rinse the baby off and move over so Ashton can pick him out. "Oh, you smell so good, bud." Ashton kisses the top of his head as I rinse and drain his tub. "Can you handle dressing him up so I can prep the milk?" Ashton asks as we walk towards our bed. "Can you handle making his bottle?" I ask and he chuckles. "Piece of cake." He assures me, laying the baby on the changing mat. "I think I can do dress up." I reply, picking up the lavender lotion.

I finish putting on his onesie when Ashton returns with the bottle. "You are still struggling with dressing him up?" He asks with a soft giggle. "If you knew all the steps in his nighttime routine, you wouldn't be that surprised..." I state, picking up the baby and sitting on the ottoman to feed him. "Can I do it? Can I feed him?" He asks, sitting next to me. "Are you sure?" I ask and he nods. "Yeah, yeah. I'll feed him, you go take a shower and then you put him to sleep and I take a shower." He replies, motioning for me to give him the baby. "Ok, I'll make sure to be quick." I hand him Ben carefully, watching him as he starts feeding him. "Go, I have done this in the past, multiple times." Ashton says playfully. I raise my hands in defeat, walking away from the two boys.

I did as fast as I could in the shower, and despite the short length, it was exactly what I needed. I walk out of the bathroom, already clad in my pajamas and ready for Ben's sleeping ritual. Ashton is humming a tune as he walks around the room with Ben in his arms, rubbing his back softly. "I thought I was supposed to be putting him to sleep." I whisper, not wanting to disturb the little guy. "I got carried away. Can you order food?" He asks, in the same hushed tone. "Still TexMex?" I ask, taking my phone from the nightstand where it was charging. "Yes. Get the usual, I think you have the order saved on the app. Ask for door delivery and pay with my credit card, so they don't ring the bell and wake the baby up. Ask for a text upon delivery." He whispers and I shake my head. "So bossy..." I mumble, and he shoots me a look. "I have no problem with your nephew crying all night if you don't have too..." He states, looking at Ben to see if he is asleep. "Ok, ok... A crying baby is the last thing on my checklist for tonight." I reply, writing the instructions for delivery in the special field.

"I think in a minute or two, he will be ready for bed." Ashton announces, bouncing the baby to lull him to sleep. "I will stay with him, you go shower." I reply, laying his bedding on my side of the bed. Thankfully, the bed is big enough for me to sleep comfortably along with Ashton on his side of the bed. "Once he is off, we can't get out of the room. We have to watch him so he doesn't roll over." I remind him and he nods. "So, we will eat in bed. And we will read that book you bought the other day until we are off too." He states, letting Ben on his mat. The baby continues sleeping, sucking on his pacifier rhythmically. "This is why I fell in love with you. You always find solutions." I say happily, making him turn his head and plant a soft peck on my lips. "I'll be right back." He whispers, walking towards the bathroom.

I watch as my nephew sleeps, pouting over how angelic he looks, how peaceful he is. I want a baby, and I want it now. I want to have a baby with Ashton, I want to raise a child with the love of my life, I just want it. It hurts me physically being in need of becoming a mother. "(Y/N)... (Y/N)? Do I flip the page?" Ashton nudges me, making me come out of my thoughts. "Hm?" "We have been on this page for a while? Did you read it? Should I change it?" He asks. "I am sorry, give me a minute." I start scanning the page, but Ashton shuts the book and leaves it on the bedside table. "You seem a bit off. Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?" He asks me, kissing my temple. I shake my head, taking a breath. "I want a baby." I admit, moving so I can look him in the eye. "Now?" He asks, knitting his eyebrows together. "Don't make fun of me. I want us to have a baby. I know you practically raised your siblings, and then you raised the boys, and I know you needed a break from fatherhood when we got married, but I want to have a baby. I want us to grow this family. I want a baby because..." I go on and on, but Ashton just chuckles and reaches to cup my face. "(Y/N)... Let's have a baby." He says as if it is the simplest, most natural thing in the world. "You are serious?" I ask and he nods. "Very. And if we didn't have our nephew here tonight, I would show you how serious I am about having a baby with you." He winks at me, making my eyes go wide and earning a light slap on the shoulder. "Ashton..." I gasp and he shrugs. "What? You asked for a baby... I am just saying, we can start trying." He replies, pulling me in for a kiss. "You are going to be an amazing dad." I mumble against his lips before I rest my forehead on his. "Only because you are going to make an amazing mum." He kisses the tip of my nose while stroking his thumbs over my cheeks.

My Masterlist

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dekus-afro-pic · 4 years ago

Text

Reunited

Touya Todoroki/Dabi x fem!villan Reader

Summary: You were the only outside person to witness your best friends death. You grew up watching his murderer walk around and call himself the number two hero. While causing trouble on the wrong side of town you’re confronted by a familiar stranger.

Warnings: HUGE BIG BIG BIG BNHA290 SPOILERS, Cursing, blood, murder, mentions of suicide, a heated make out session at the end

“Touya when are you coming back to schoo-”your soft voice was cut off by a warm hug.

“I’m leaving soon y/n” he mumbled.

You wrapped your arms around his bandaged body. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere fun. Somewhere safe” he pulled away. You stared at his glossy eyes, tears forming in your own.

“Your running away? I’ll come with the you.”

“Not exactly” he puts something in your hand. “I’ll see you soon Y/n”

You looked down and saw that it was a bracelet with a blue flame. You looked back up and he was already gone. Disappearing into the wooded area. You walked away, bracelet still clutched into your smal hands.

You looked back at the wooded area, only to see it was engulfed in blue flames. You run back towards the boy, smoke filling your lungs.

“TOUYA” You scream, emotions taking over. Your natural disaster quirk activates, trying to put out the flames with water. But the flames were too hot. Smoke blurring your vision and clouded your lungs. You heard tree branches falling all around you. One hits your arm, burning your soft flesh. “God DAMN IT TOUYA” you choked.

“Go home y/n” a deep voice told you. You turned to see the number two hero standing over you. “He’s gone”

“HE COULD STILL BE IN THERE! YOU’RE NOT EVEN TRYING TO HELP HIM. YOURE HIS FATHER, DO SOMETHING” You screamed at the man. Your limbs started to feel heavy and your vision was blurring. You tried to take another step but was met with the hard cement ground.

You never forgot that day. You even have dreams of it on the rare occasion of you sleeping. You knew one thing for a fact: you despised heroes.

———————————

Years later you still held the same hatred for heroes. Especially Endeavor. Every time you saw a hero you scoffed. Nothing but selfish bastards.

“Awwwn look at you all.” you tease at a group of tourists. “I almost feel guilty....almost. Where are your precious heroes now hmm? Your heroes that you love oh so much are nowhere to be found. Oh well guess you guys have to-”

You send a small tornado their way stopping it mere inches away from them. “Die” you smirked.

“Oi” you hear an oddly familiar voice speak. “What are you doing on this side of town”

You turn around and see a rather tall and handsome man. His hair was dark and he wore a long coat.

“Oh look. The infamous Dabi. May I please get your autograph” you mocked

“Watch it doll. Don’t want to barbecue you” he threatened with bright blue flames.

You froze. You haven’t seen blue flames since Touya died.

“That’s a pretty bracelet you have there” he inched closer “mind if I swipe it?”

“Over my dead body” you spat, snapping back into reality.

“That can be arranged brat” He spat back. He made his way towards you but stopped at the outburst by one of your hostages.

“HEROES!” One of the hostages yelled.

You looked pass the ravenette to see one of Endevour’s side kicks. You knew this because you’ve been studying the mans every move. Every person he’s hired. You even know where his youngest son goes to school. That poor child, having to be forced into hero studies.

“The number 1 Hero sure does sit on his ass all day. He’s never made an attempt to show up to one of my parties” you pout.

“He has better things to do than-”

“Blah blah blah oh shut up” you interrupt, striking him with a strong bolt of lightning. Surely killing him. “I never get to have any fun”

You turn to see that the man had left the store. You look back at your hostages and smirked “guess I’ll get going now. Not before I give you guys a gift” You stomp your foot on the ground hard, causing a mild earthquake. You walk out of the store laughing at the hostages screams.

You make your way to a nearby alleyway. Climbing up the fire escape, you make your way to the roof. You sit on the edge, watching how the city lights up at night. You watched as hero’s quickly made way to your ex hostages. Some being brought out on ambulance stretchers.

“Pathetic” you mumbled, playing with your blue flame bracelet “They weren’t there for you Touya. You see this shit? It’s not fair”

“Not fair at all” a voice said behind you.

You quickly stood to your feet to face the stranger. But, it was just the same raven haired man from before.

“What do you want man” you groaned. “I already told you I’m not giving you my bracelet”

“But it’s mine” Dabi teased. Part of him wanted you to remember him. To hug you and tell you how much he missed you. The other part wanted to hide. He was dead to you after all.

“Please” you sassed “This isn’t yours. I had it since I was a kid. Either fight me or get off my rooftop”

The man, oblivious to you, already knew how long you had the bracelet. “Look at the bracelet y/n”

You glared at him, looked down at your bracelet and back up to him. He held out a small blue fire in his palm. Almost identical to the one on your wrist.

“I swear to you I will scream if this means what I think it means” you whispered, slightly shaking your head.

“Don’t scream. We’ll both get caught up here and sent to prison”

“Right. No screaming. Can I...” your voice was shakey as you inches closer to your best friend “Can I hug you?”

He nodded his head opening his arms, waiting for your embrace. He didn’t expect you to jump on him so when you did, the both of you fell to the ground.

“Touya oh god I missed you so much. You look so different. Stronger and just so different” you ramble. You hold him tight, scared that he’ll leave again. Then you remember he left in the first place. You looked down at him and electrocute his leg.

“Shit y/n what was that for” he growled pushing you off of him.

“That’s for leaving me alone for so long” you spat. “I thought you were dead. For so long I’ve tried to kill myself so I could be with you. For so long I’ve been killing people who got in my way of killing Endevour. AND YOU WERE ALIVE ALL THIS TIME?”

“I know. I’ve been watching you” he groaned “I told you I’d come back for you didn’t I?”

He reached out his right hand. Waiting for you to place your hand in his.

“If you’re going to kill me-“

“God y/n” he took hold of your hand and dragged you back to the fire escape.

——————————

He led you to an old bar. At least that’s what it looked like on the outside. You were surprised when he led you to the back, where the rest of the group resigned.

“Everyone this is Y/N. Y/N this is everyone” Dabi “introduced”.

You waved at the group of people who all said their own version of greetings. Your eyes wandered to the group’s leader. Well, more like his back.

“Hey Shigi. Did you ever get that cream I recommend?” You snorted.

He turned to glare at you. He flipped you off while he went back to playing his video game. You and him have butt heads on numerous occasions. The two of you always running into eachother while recking havoc on the city.

“Come on” Dabi whispered in your ear. “I’ll show you to my room”

The room wasn’t small but it wasn’t quite big either. It had a bathroom attached to it and one of those closets that have the sliding door. The room smelt like cigarettes and cologne. In other words: Dabi.

“You smell just like your room,” You joked, making your way to his bed. “Burnt”

“Your jokes are hilarious as always Y/N” he retorted sarcastically “ go take a shower. You stink”

“Ouch my feelings. What will I wear?”

He pulled out a shirt and some boxers and handed them to you.

“Skinny legend” you snorted, lifting up the underwear.

“I bought those after Tomura told me he ran into you. I was planning on kidnapping you then. But I got sidetracked” he rubbed his neck nervously. He sat on his bed and turned on his tv. “Now hurry up and shower”

———————————

You stepped out of the hot shower and slipped the shirt over your head. As expected, it was too big. You opened the bathroom door cautiously just in case Dabi was asleep.

The lights were off, along with the tv, as light snores filled the room. You set your dirty clothes on a vacant chair and crawled into his bed.

“It took you long enough” the man mumbled. He hooked one of his arms around your leg and pulled you closer. His body was soothingly hot, no doubt due to his quirk.

“I had to rinse the stink off of me” you jabbed back at him. You buried your face into his neck “Go back to sleep”

You waited until his snores resumed to get a closer look at his body. Tracing a finger along his staples you took note of how he reacted to it. You traced his nose piercings before kissing his cheek.

“You missed” he mumbled, awoken out of his sleep for a second time.

“I did not. You get no smooches until you tell me you love me” you smirked.

Dabi glared at you and sighed. “I love you y/n. Now can I kiss you? I’ve waited too many years to do so”

You leaned foward and placed a soft kiss on his dual textured lips. He grabbed your hips and sat you on top of him. Running his hands along your sides, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. His grip on your ass hardened as your hands tugged at his hair.

The two of you pulled away for air, panting. You looked him in his eyes and smiled.

“I love you too”

#mha #mha bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #mha headcanons #mha x reader #hitoshi x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academia #kirishima x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader smut #dabi x female reader #dabi x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi headcanons #bnha dabi #dabi imagine #bnha fanfiction #bnha fluff

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 4 years ago

Text

permanence

(kinda a sequel to this but can also be read alone--baby!jack, cas has just come back from the empty)

----------

Jack doesn’t like Castiel, not at first.

He won’t let Castiel hold him, cries if Dean puts him in his crib before he’s asleep and then leaves the room. Even if Castiel is looking down into the crib, Jack’s tiny face turns red, tears streaming out of his eyes.

Castiel tries to act like it doesn’t bother him.

It shouldn’t--he died, Jack hasn’t had a chance to know him yet, but Jack knows his grace, or should know it. Jack’s not human, despite all appearances.

Castiel ends up going on a lot of walks. Alone.

There are good times, of course--as long as Dean is there, too, Jack will happily try to put whatever toy Castiel hands him into his mouth, or let Castiel push the stroller at the grocery store, or hand him a bottle of formula.

But no holding.

Since coming back from the Empty, Castiel has tried to take in the world more often, see things that he hasn’t seen before. He eats more of Dean’s cooking, trying to push past the molecules. He uses the gym, even though he doesn’t necessarily need to work out to stay in shape. He meditates in Dean’s bed at night and wears pajamas and feels.

He feels loved. But he also feels lonely.

About a month after he comes back, Castiel is shocked out of his meditative nighttime state by Dean shaking his shoulder. Castiel sits up. “What’s wrong?”

“Sam's puking all over the place,” Dean says. “I’m gonna go grab something for him from the store, cuz nothing’s helping. Will you be okay?”

The understood question is will you be okay with the baby? Castiel nods, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, and Dean smiles at him gratefully.

“I’ll be back in no time,” he promises, pressing a swift kiss to Castiel’s lips before leaving the room, holding his boots in one hand.

Castiel can’t get calm again after that.

He goes to check on Sam, who is in the bathroom where things are, predictably, gross. Castiel cleans up what he can and unsuccessfully attempts to heal Sam. He decides that he should probably get some books from the library to see if it’s a curse or something, and by the time he heads back to his and Dean’s room, he’s been gone for about thirty minutes and Jack is wailing.

Castiel drops the books on the bedside table and stands over the crib, looking down at Jack struggling in his swaddle. Jack’s eyes are screwed shut, but when Castiel lowers his arms down into the crib to pick him up, Jack’s eyes open and he starts crying even more.

Castiel backs away from the crib.

He feels so, so, so alone. He’s an angel of the lord. A baby shouldn’t make him feel helpless. But it does, Jack does. Castiel is acutely aware of the way he’s not Dean.

Dean.

Castiel looks down at his pajama shirt, which was once Dean’s, and then lifts it to his nose. It doesn’t smell like Dean at all anymore, not after Castiel wearing it for a month.

He turns to the dresser and pulls out the second drawer, where Dean keeps his t-shirts and flannels, rummaging through until he finds a red-and-brown one, one of Dean’s favorites. Castiel slips it over his pajama shirt and buttons it up before turning to the crib again.

Jack still cries as Castiel picks him up, but Castiel adjusts his hands to hold Jack close to his chest like Dean does. Slowly the cries turn into sniffles, and Castiel takes that as a good sign, laying down on the bed like he’s seen Dean do a dozen or more times, still holding Jack.

Silence eventually comes.

----------

“Cas?”

There’s a heavy hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and he blinks his eyes open to see Dean’s face hovering above him.

“How’s Sam?” Castiel asks. “Is he better? I thought it might be a curse--”

“He’s fine.” Dean laughs. “Just some food poisoning. Turns out the shrimp in the leftover takeout he ate yesterday had gone bad.”

That explains why Castiel couldn’t heal him, then, since the food, not something with Sam, was the problem.

“How are you?” Dean asks. “Little guy give you any trouble?”

Castiel looks down to Jack, still asleep on his chest. “A little,” he admits.

“I told you he would come around,” Dean says, before leaning down to kiss Castiel's forehead. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Poached eggs?” Castiel asks hopefully. He may not be able to fully taste the food, but he likes the texture.

“You got it.”

Castiel looks down at Jack’s face, slack with sleep, as Dean leaves the room. He rubs his hand in circles on the baby’s back, and can feel himself smiling.

It’s all going to be okay.

#sorry guys I had to do it #destiel #baby!jack #mutual tags!!!#usersheya #userstarry #cillabee #offbeatwrites

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xenolithium · 4 years ago

Text

Surprise Visits (France & America)

I remember when he was just a little boy. He had large blue eyes and that bright, innocent smile he'd always wear upon his lips whenever I'd come see him. Those moments were fleeting and the time I spent with that boy was short.

"Alfred, papa made you something to eat!"

Whenever I saw him, I remember being so happy. Even if it was a struggle just to see his face again the next time around. It was something I'd look forward to. Kissing his forehead, cuddling next to him in bed, feeding him the food I made so lovingly.

It was strange. Up until that point I'd never felt such a strong urge to protect something. To become the pillar that would hold him up in his darkest moments. But I accepted the feeling wholeheartedly and without question. This little boy was my little boy.

The American Revolution was when I truly got to know him. Arthur may have stolen away his childhood, but I had his teen years. The moments when he was the most vulnerable. The moments when he'd break down in tears, unsure of what to do. But it was okay, I was there. I'd always be there.

"I love you, mon petit chou."

---

Francis sighed as he pushed his luggage next to the front door and out of the way, pocketing his spare key. He then took off his shoes before taking a few steps into his son's home, leaving the entrance behind him. The place was quiet, eerily quiet considering who this was he was visiting. The only sounds he could hear was the soft pitter-patter of paws as Alfred's cat came to greet him. Her white fluffy tail standing up at attention as she meowed at him as if saying hello or perhaps asking him to leave. She did have a bit of an attitude problem afterall, as most cats do.

Francis kneeled down to give her a stroke, "I'm happy to see you too~" he greeted, letting her bunt against the back of his hand. A small smile played at his lips while she inspected him in mild interest and eventually took her leave. Back to her outpost atop the fridge to stare at him behind beady blue eyes.

Francis gazed upon her 'elegance' for a moment, before slowly rising to his feet again and continuing his journey through the house. First things first, he'd check to see if Alfred was even home. But judging by the fact Marshmallow was left unattended and not in someone's care, he was sure that the American hadn't gone too far.

"Alfred, papa came by to visit you~" was the only warning he gave as he so brazenly entered his son's room. It's not like he'd care if he saw anything he shouldn't. Francis wasn't exactly one who held high regard towards concepts such as shame. Plus, if anything was happening, he'd just walk back out and talk through the door instead. Simple as that~ (He had a feeling Arthur wouldn't be too keen on that logic.)

Francis blinked when he noticed Alfred laying in bed. Despite it being the middle of the day, there he was, hugging an oversized stuffed bear like he was a small child again. It made the Frenchman's heart light up as he stepped towards the bed to sit down next to his very much full grown son and run a hand through his messy hair. He frowned at the texture; greasy, split ends, dandruff. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, this just wouldn't do. It was a good thing he decided to come over.

"Alfred, did you work late last night?" He asked, his voice soft, as the American slowly blinked himself into consciousness. Staring out through windows surrounding his bed for a moment, towards the swaying palm trees and the rolling shores. Before finally turning his head to look up at Francis.

"Papa?"

"Yeah, it's me," Francis chuckled, letting his thumb briefly rub against Alfred's cheek in a comforting gesture.

"Did you bring me any food?" Alfred asked groggily and Francis rolled his eyes.

"No, I was going to ask you what you wanted though."

"Crepes~" he cheered as he sat up, suddenly a lot more energetic than he was before. "With lots of whip cream and strawberries~"

"Wait, are we having a meal here or desert?" Francis asked, his eyebrows bunched together in concern.

"Chocolate sauce?"

"That doesn't make it any healthier." Francis sighed, shaking his head as Alfred laughed. "How about I choose then?"

"What? You can't just walk in here, ask what I want and not let me choose. I will drink the chocolate sauce just to spite you."

"Alfred please...let's not drink the chocolate sauce. That is disgusting."

"To you maybe."

"No, it's disgusting and you know it!" Francis huffed, surprised when Alfred simply stared at him for a moment in silence. Seemingly letting him win the argument for a short period of time.

"Can I at least have the strawberries and whipped cream?" He begged, making those puppy dog eyes that always made Francis weak to his every will and whim.

"Fine you can have the strawberries."

"and whipped cream?"

"Strawberries."

Alfred squinted at him for a long moment, that angelic expression from earlier falling off his face completely as he realized what Francis was doing here. Opening his mouth to refute it again when Francis swiftly changed the subject.

"Alfred, when's the last time you took a shower?"

Alfred closed his mouth again, looking slightly surprised at such a sudden topic change. But also slightly embarrassed that he was caught not taking care of himself properly to Francis of all people. The one who would gripe the most about it.

"Yesterday."

Francis took hold of one of the strands of his hair, whilst Alfred tried to weakly swat him away. "This does not look like yesterday. There's so much grease, I could fry an egg with it," he pointed out, finally pulling his hand back and crossing his arms over his chest. "On top of that, you haven't been using the shampoo I recommended, have you?" Alfred's guilty look said it all. "You wouldn't have so much dandruff and split ends if you used the shampoo I told you to use. And what's this, acne? I thought I gave you a step by step guide on my skin care routine and -"

"Okay, okay! I got it!" Alfred cut off his father, who was currently going into a nagging tangent about how he should be taking care of himself. This time it was Francis' turn to squint suspiciously at Al. "I'll take a shower right now to prove it."

"Good." Francis finally began to smile again, leaning forward to kiss Alfred's forehead. "I'll be in the kitchen." He slowly rose from the bed to walk towards the bedroom door. Only pausing to turn back and close the door behind him, noticing Al curling up under the covers with his phone in hand, rather than getting up like he said he would. He raised a brow, "Alfred..." He called in warning.

"One sec, I gotta wake my legs up first."

"Now, Alfred." The American let out a huff and rolled to the floor, covers and all. Only to slowly crawl his way to his bathroom with a groan of protest. "And you tell me I'm over dramatic." Francis shook his head as he finally closed the door with a click, walking back down the hallway to get them both something to eat.

---

"Do you feel better?" Francis asked as Alfred leaned back, stretching his arms up over his head after finishing his fifth plate of food. He definitely looked relaxed and at ease, but most of all, clean.

"Yeah, your food is the best~" he complimented, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks papa!"

Francis leaned against his hand, brushing a few loose strands from his own face. "You need to take better care of yourself. What would you do if I didn't check on you all the time? But there's no need to think of that since I'm here~"

Alfred pouted, "now you're just being full of yourself. Besides, I wouldn't want to make your job pointless if I'm doing everything myself."

"How noble of you," Francis laughed, but the sound was genuine and heartfelt. He glanced towards Marshmallow who was gazing at them from the other side of the table. "Have you been overworking yourself again?"

"Nah, just was having a bit of a hard time." Francis turned his gaze back towards Alfred as he fiddled with his empty glass nervously.

"You know you can talk to me about it, mon petit chou."

"I know, it's just embarassing."

Francis stared at Alfred for a long moment trying to think of what it was that he was keeping from him. Something he had mentioned before perhaps? "Oh, is it..." He trailed off as Alfred seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable. "Oh, Alfred." He reached across the table to place his hands on his son's cheeks. "You're perfect in every way and there's absolutely nothing you need to change." He watched as Alfred began to tear up. "It's fine, you don't have to say anything. I'm here."

Alfred nodded. "Thanks..." He swallowed thickly. "Thanks for coming."

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connorandersons-blog · 3 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed Characters: Connor, Gavin Reed Additional Tags: Connor Has ADHD, Oral Fixation, Stim Toys, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Gift Giving, Deviant Connor, Post-Pacifist Best Ending, Semi-Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Getting Together

Summary:

Everyone knew Connor put things in his mouth constantly, it was just a fact of life at this point. He mostly did so while investigating, which Gavin had had the curse (or pleasure) of seeing many times. It got Hank to curse, which was pretty funny, and it made Gavin think things he shouldn't, which was very much not funny.

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

Gavin had complained too, trying not to stare at the android who just blinked innocently up at him, because of course he always crouched down when he did it. There was no way the fucker didn’t know exactly what he made people think of when he pulled shit like that.

Then came the pens and pencils Connor would stick in his mouth while at the precinct. It was actually pretty cute for the most part, not that Gavin would tell Connor that, but it was so very human of him to chew on pencils when he was thinking. It was always amusing when Connor would break a pencil, but it was absolutely hilarious when he’d break a pen.

The first time it happened Gavin hadn’t been able to hold back his laughter at the way the ink covered Connor and his mouth. He’d pouted so hard that Gavin felt pretty bad and even went to drag a few paper towels from the break room.

He came back to see Connor yanking his tie off and undoing the buttons on his shirt with his dainty fingers. Gavin was completely frozen, blue screened, for a few seconds before he shook himself and continued to walk the rest of the way. He shoved the towels at Connor before storming away, cursing about useless androids and their mindlessness.

He kept his head down, ignoring the fact that Connor was stripping out of his shirt right there in the middle of the bullpen. He saw a few other officers stop and stare, but Connor paid them no mind at all.

After the fifth time in two months, Gavin had had enough. It wasn’t the fifth time breaking a pencil, nope, this was just pens, and Connor chewed on those a whole lot less than he did pencils, so that was saying something.

He wasn’t getting him these things because he liked Connor (he didn’t), or because he wanted to be his friend (he really didn't, don’t look at him), it was just… pity and a bit of understanding.

Gavin remembered in school when he’d tap his pencil against the desk relentlessly, or bounce his leg until he thought it would fall off. His fellow students would glare at him and his teachers told him to go see the counselor about possible ADHD. Turns out it was more than just that because mental illness was a buy-one-get-three-free kind of deal.

So he saw a bit of himself in Connor with how he couldn’t sit still or would lose track of time so much that he would stay days and nights at the precinct when a case was hard and caught his interest.

Connor obviously liked using his mouth (which sounded so wrong and brought up so many ideas) but pencils and pens surely weren’t good for him either. Plus the precinct was running out of supplies and something needed to give.

The first one he'd bought Connor was a pencil that wasn’t actually a pencil. It was harder (he might have gotten this one specially designed) so Connor wouldn’t chomp through it (hopefully), but completely safe to stick in a mouth.

The next he got was a necklace that looked like a giant coin, because he’d seen Connor doing tricks with the coin he had. He hated to admit it, but the tricks were pretty damn impressive considering he could still do it absentmindedly and while walking.

The last was another necklace that looked almost like a black ouroboros, though the site called it a Phoenix. It was the hardest they had but also had texture too which he hoped Connor wouldn’t hate.

It was hard finding a time to drop them off at Connor’s desk, but one day he’d gone to lunch with Hank, so Gavin took his chance. He wrote a quick note, trying to disguise his handwriting but if Connor did his weird android analysis thing there would be no way he wouldn’t be able to tell. The note just explained these were chewable and wouldn’t make a mess. He didn’t dare add the stupid heart he was so tempted to draw like some blushing school girl.

Then he sat back at his desk and waited. He tried to appear busy at least when Connor showed back up, even as he was almost shaking with nerves. What if Connor hated it or made him self-conscious? What if Connor hated him for it, even if Connor had said he’d never hated him after Gavin had managed to apologize a year after the revolution.

He felt like he needed a stim toy with how he was gnawing on his bottom lip as Connor’s eyes widened when he saw the small box on his desk. He picked up the note that rested on it, tilting his head as he read it. He glanced up, scanning around the room never meeting anyone’s eyes. Gavin was watching from the corner of his and tapping at the computer in what he hoped to be a convincing mimicry of typing a case report.

Connor set the note down carefully before pulling the bow apart, because if Gavin was going to give a gift then he’d go all out. His mom taught him how to tie bows like that and he was rather proud, thank you very much. Connor lifted the lid and gasped, pulling out the coin first. He flipped it over in his hand, probably scanning it to see what it was made of.

He glanced around again but this time nervously as if thinking someone was watching him (Gavin was but he didn’t count), before bringing it up and biting down. He nibbled on it a few times, before grinning and setting it down. Ok, that was one and it went pretty well.

He picked up the pencil next and let out a small giggle, before covering his mouth. Fuck that was adorable, but Gavin made no move to show or tell Connor so.

He scanned over this one as well, before bringing it to his lips and into his mouth. He bit down, androlled it around in his mouth like he sometimes did with actual pens. Then he started to actually suck on it and Gavin realized this was a very bad idea.

Thankfully Connor didn’t waste too much time with that one, setting it down to pull out the last. He tilted his head again, rubbing his finger over the ridged designs before sticking this one in his mouth too. He let out a pleased sound that made Gavin have to shift in his seat slightly, almost choking on his own spit as he tried to swallow.

At least he seemed to like all of them, and when Connor actually put the necklace on for the black one Gavin felt a buzz of happiness that always came from giving a good gift.

Connor picked up the note again and fuck, Gavin stood and ran to the break room. Maybe if he wasn’t in view, then Connor would just ignore his existence and not figure out it was he who sent it.

He made himself a scalding hot cup of coffee, not adding anything at least for now. Though sometimes he’d add a bit of sugar from the packets he’d keep in his desk for the special occasion of needing it to be a little tastier. He hoped it was enough time for Connor to fuck off and get back to work.

He flopped down onto his chair with a huff, running his hand through his hair. It had been a long day and he’d barely even done any work, but maybe now he could get back on track. He did spare a glance at Connor who was–fuck, he was looking at him already.

Gavin steeled himself, ready for whatever that tin can had to say about the gifts, but instead, Connor smiled a bit lopsidedly before turning to talk with Hank. That was… not what he was expecting. It made his stupid heart flutter a bit seeing that adorably dorky smile directed at him, but he chugged some of the coffee and it made it better.

He should have realized how bad of an idea it was to get Connor those toys because the man never let them go and always had them in his mouth as long as it wasn’t at a bad time. No one commented, all of them used to seeing weirder shit, and they all knew this was better than pens breaking. Plus plenty of them was gen z and just as mentally weird as everyone else so stim toys were pretty damn normal.

But Gavin was regretting it because of the blissful look on Connor’s face as he sucked on the fake pencil or held the black phoenix in his mouth. He was probably tracing over the lines with his tongue which wasn’t a thought he needed to think about in detail.

Sometimes Connor would even make these small sounds like a pleased cat or dog when he was chewing on the toys. Gavin was very glad he liked them (the hot cups of coffee with sugar in them that was left on his desk showed just how grateful Connor was), but watching him was killing Gavin.

He was getting boners more than some teenagers did and it was hard not to just do something about it. He’d imagined yanking Connor in to kiss him, making him make those damn sounds because of Gavin’s lips and tongue teasing him and not some toy. He had dreams of Connor initiating and asking if he could use his mouth on Gavin in every way possible. Those mornings when he comes in he can’t even glance Connor’s way, terrified he’d somehow know what his mind was filled with.

But Connor was ever innocent and unknowing, which was just plain weird. Wasn’t he supposed to be some high-tech android that could pick up on the tiniest bits of information? If so then was he just willfully ignoring how bad Gavin was lusting after him?

And no it wasn’t a crush, he absolutely totally did not think about taking Connor on dates, holding his hand, moving in together. He didn’t think about curling up on the couch with Connor as Doa cuddled with them too, her purring loud and clear. There were no feelings of romantic nature, and he would keep telling himself that until he genuinely came to believe it.

So it was just him being a friend (he still wasn’t sure they were even friends) and wanting to celebrate finishing his case when he invited Connor to get a drink with him. He’d stuttered over his words, cursing himself for not thinking that Connor might not be able to drink, but he’d said yes anyway.

So while work was finishing up, he was on his phone trying to find a suitable place that was android and human-friendly. There were apparently android drinks that could make them drunk but who knew if that would work on Connor, given he’s a prototype and the best of the best. Gavin wasn’t sure if he had very high standards or just a love for guys who could kick his ass.

He found a place thankfully, the ratings were pretty high and it seemed it was a very popular place for dates, not that this was one. So when Connor walked up to his desk, asking if he was ready, he wasn’t scrambling to figure things out still.

“Yep, got a nice place we can try out. ‘S got some android drinks that make you drunk, which is cool. You don’t gotta drink those if you don’t want to, obviously.” He shrugged on his leather jacket, having taken it off since the damn AC had broken once again, making the whole precinct practically a sauna.

Connor had his own sleeves rolled up, his tie hanging low and the first two buttons on his shirt undone. It was a damn good look on him and Gavin was close to drooling, but he was a little too dehydrated to actually do that, thankfully.

“Oh, I might have one but I’d rather not get drunk.” Connor glanced back at Hank and, oh right. That made sense. “Is Ms. Chen or Mr. Miller joining us?”

Fuck. “Uh, nah neither could make it. Chris has his kids you know? And uh, I think Tina has a date.” He had absolutely no idea if any of that was true given he hadn’t even asked his friends to join them, but it probably wasn’t too far off the mark.

Connor tilted his head before smiling slightly. Damn android and his creepy face that Gavin just wanted to punch in the mouth with his mouth repeatedly and very gently. “Very well, will we be taking your car or a taxi?”

“Uh, I mean you can ride on my bike with me if you want I guess.” It would be another thing to drive Gavin insane but hey, if he’s lasted three months with Connor and those stim toys he could last the fifteen-minute ride with him pressed against his back. Maybe. That, that actually sounded pretty hard to deal with, but surely it wouldn’t be that bad.

It was absolutely terrible. Connor had his arms wrapped around him, his whole front pressed against him with his damn chin on Gavin’s shoulder. At one point he shifted slightly to rest his cheek on Gavin’s back as they waited at a red light and Connor would most definitely be able to hear how Gavin’s heart was racing.

Gavin hoped he’d take it as just the bike being thrilling but Connor had squeezed him just slightly before relaxing again.

Connor didn’t even hold his own hands together in a fist like most people, no he splayed a hand over Gavin’s stomach, the other one far enough around to hold his side a bit. At one red light, Connor had sat back and stretched his arms a bit as his joints would lock up, and when he went to put his hands back the breeze finally decided to kick up. Of course, that meant Gavin’s shirt moved with the wind, and Connor’s hand landed on skin instead of fabric.

He tried not to react but Connor didn’t apologize or move his hand away either, so he surely wasn’t the only one who didn’t mind. His mind strayed to the idea of Connor just slowly trailing his hand down to rest over Gavin’s crotch where there would no doubt be a tent. Gavin would lean back into him, feel Connor's breath on his ear and the warmth of his lips when he’d–he was jolted out of that thought process by a honk that let him know the light turned green a few seconds ago.

He sped off, and thankfully nothing else of notice really happened the rest of the ride, but Connor’s hand did stay against his stomach under his shirt, holding him close.

Connor moved back when they finally parked and neither said a word as they made their way into the bar. The bouncer had barely even glanced at their IDs (or Gavin’s, Connor didn’t need one) before stamping their hands with a green circle.

The bar was dimly lit by modern-looking lights, the music loud enough that people felt the need to dance but not too loud that Gavin would need to shout either. Like all bars, it smelt of beer, sweaty bodies, and food that most only ate so they wouldn’t get overly drunk. A pretty typical-looking bar and Gavin led them over to a few open stools. He’d find them a table once they got their first drinks.

He ordered a beer, though he actually hated drinking beer, because it’s what everyone expected. Maybe he’d toss back something harder later to impress Connor a bit at how well he could take it down. Fuck, he wasn’t even drunk yet and he was already thinking these things.

Connor got himself a drink, naming off something from the board that was labeled for androids, and then the two found themselves a table a little ways away from the music.

Gavin took a few sips, trying not to scrunch up his face at the terrible taste and smell. Honestly, how could anyone stand this stuff?! “How’s your drink?”

Connor took a careful sip of his before jolting slightly, staring down at his drink in awe before taking another sip. This one he holds in his mouth for a few seconds, eyes wide before swallowing. “It feels good!”

Gavin blinked at him before scoffing. “I think you mean it tastes good.” Stupid android already getting tipsy from one small sip.

“No, I mean it feels good. It’s kind of tingly and I can feel all of the sensors on my tongue lighting up.” He grabbed his drink, cradling it in his hands and keeping it close to his chest.

“Oh,” Gavin said dumbly. Of course, it would be different for androids, Connor might not even have any way to taste it like humans did so sensations were the next best thing.

Connor was obviously trying not to gulp it down, and the way he held it in his mouth was adorable. His cheeks were puffed out and he’s staring down his nose like he’d be able to see the liquid. “Do you like yours?” Connor finally asked after he swallowed that mouthful.

Gavin swirled his beer around in the bottle wishing he could spill it somehow so he wouldn’t feel the need to drink it. “Uh, yeah sure. It’s not the worst.” That was true, it wasn’t the worst beer he’s had at least.

Connor frowned and leaned forward a bit so he wouldn’t have to speak too loud. “You know if you don’t like it you should get something else. This is a celebration for you, you should enjoy what you drink.”

Damn, was he really that transparent? Part of him was screaming to keep the act up, that beer and hard liquor were what was expected and what he had to drink. “Fuck it. Yeah this shit sucks, I hate the taste of beer. I’ll go get something else.”

Connor beamed at him and nodded, sitting back and taking another long sip of his drink and holding it in his mouth.

“You want another one of those, Con?” The nickname slipped out but at least it wasn’t some lovey-dovey shit like honey or dear.

Connor frowned before shrugging and then nodding. Gavin gave him a thumbs-up as he made his way back over to the bar and ordered what he actually wanted to drink. The bartender didn’t comment on it, which he’s thankful for.

He headed back to their table only to find someone standing there, talking to Connor. Gavin cleared his throat and slid into his seat, handing the drink to Connor and then glaring at the man. “Can I help you?”

The man shifted, looking between the two of them. “Was just suggesting some drinks, sorry to interrupt.” The man put his hands up in surrender, taking a step back from the table. Gavin knew very well what this guy was trying to do, and Gavin would not let Connor be taken advantage of.

“Thank you for the suggestions, I’ll keep them in mind,” Connor grinned, but it looked a little too fake to Gavin. Gavin got to see the true smiles that lit up Connor’s face and no matter how weird and awkward he looked Gavin couldn’t help but fall a little farther with each one.

The dude glanced down, but wisely made no comment on Gavin’s choice of drink and how out of character it looked for him. So what he loved a good cherry bourbon smash, beer tastes like piss water and this actually had flavor.

Gavin brought his glass up and took a sip as the guy walked off back to wherever he’d been originally before Gavin left. The drink was damn good and mixed just right so that all the flavors were even and not too overpowering. This was the kind of drink he could easily get wasted on.

“Is that one good?” Connor asked, looking between Gavin’s drink and him.

Gavin chuckled and nodded, taking another swig. “Yeah, it’s damn good. Wish you could try it.” Connor still hadn’t confirmed if he could drink human shit or not, but he was going off the assumption that he couldn’t.

“I’m sure it’s wonderful if you like it.”

That statement didn’t actually hold up for much, but it did when it came to Connor. So he maybe liked him a lot and Connor was indeed very wonderful. It’s incredible how kind and patient he was, and yet he’s so headstrong and stubborn. The way he looked so innocent and pure but then Gavin remembered what he’s made for and how easily Connor could kill him if he wanted. He’d get away with it too, and Hank might even help dispose of his body.

He pulled out a cherry and pulled it off the stem before eating it, and twirling the stem around. He glanced at Connor, then back at the stem before grinning widely. “Hey Con, can you tie this with your tongue?” He held it out to him, and their fingers brushed together as he took it.

“Why would I?” He copied Gavin’s movements of twisting the stem around.

Gavin shrugs, drumming on the table. “Means you're a good kisser or something. It’s just a fun trick to impress people.” Gavin could do it, though he looked pretty stupid while moving it around his mouth.

Connor raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why Gavin wanted him to do it, then. But he shrugged and stuck it in his mouth, after five seconds he spit it back out and held it up for Gavin to see.

Gavin was expecting a normal knot, that’s what everyone could achieve if they practiced enough, but no. Of course, Connor was extra and within five seconds had the stem tied into a pretty bow. “Holy shit,” Gavin hissed, taking the little bow.

He was desperately trying not to imagine that very talented tongue could do on his dick. It wasn’t working, because he had to shift in his seat a bit to try and adjust himself. “Consider me impressed.”

“So this makes me a good kisser?” Connor tilted his head, his eyes shining in the light. Gavin gaped at him, trying to figure out if Connor was flirting or really that naive.

“Could always test that theory,” Gavin tried to say nonchalantly.

Connor tapped his chin, before reaching forward and grabbing the other cherry. He held it up towards Gavin, who took in a shuddering breath. He wrapped his lips around the cherry and pulled the fruit off the stem. For some reason, this one tasted even better than the last.

Connor then stuck the stem in his mouth and scooted over to close the distance between them. Gavin stiffened for a second as Connor was definitely kissing him. He finally got his brain in order and kissed back, bringing a hand up to hold Connor but the back of the neck.

Gavin couldn't help the moan that slipped out as Connor’s tongue brushed against his, and he opened his mouth eagerly to him. It’s hot and needy and fuck, maybe Connor wasn’t naive at all. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing all the time.

Something that wasn't Connor’s tongue was in his mouth and then Connor was kissing down his jaw over to his fluttering pulse that gives away just how affected he was by this.

“Oh shit, baby,” Gavin groaned, his hand going up to Connor’s hair to tug gently at the soft strands. Connor shivered and nipped a bit harder before sucking at the spot. It would no doubt leave a big mark, and Gavin couldn’t wait to press against it and feel the ache.

A loud shrill laugh made them jump apart, remembering where they were. Right, a bar and the thing in his mouth was the cherry stem. Gavin almost choked on it when he realized it was tied too. They were both panting with wide pupils as they stared at each other.

Gavin glanced down and oh, yep, that answered one of his questions at least. The tent in Connor’s pants gave away that he very much enjoyed that too and indeed had a dick. Gavin wasn't in a better state and he had to shift a bit to try and make his not so obvious. “Well fuck.”

Connor chuckled and ducked his head, rubbing his hands together. “I agree. Admittedly I’ve wanted to do that for some time, but I wasn’t sure how to initiate or if you’d actually want to.”

Gavin’s jaw was practically in his lap at the confession. “You wanted… fucking, how long!?!”

Connor looked bashful, the blue blush adorably dusting his cheeks. “Um, well you know the first time I broke a pen? I well, I might have been thinking about you instead of the case.”

Unlike Connor who blushed like a goddamn anime, just across his nose and cheeks, Gavin’s face was completely red all the way to his ears and neck. “And so you crushed a pen, great way to make a guy feel good.” He was teasing, trying to bide time to wrap his head around that.

“I just got overwhelmed! Pens are very fragile and, I just, I’m sorry,” Connor whined, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh no, no, no, you don’t get to hide, pretty boy.” Gavin pulled Connor’s hands away to see his cute face. “I’m damn happy just thinking about me gets you that distracted, that's a fucking ego boost if I’ve ever heard one.”

Connor sputtered but didn't pull his hands away from Gavin’s. “Don’t let it go to your head, I have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh? Well, you can always tell me about those fantasies you’re having at work no less. Maybe I can fulfill a few of them.” Gavin smirked, leaning in so they were a breath away again.

Connor licked his lips and Gavin followed the motion with his eyes, wanting to close the distance but very much not wanting to get them kicked out. “Maybe I can show you one now?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck fuck. Where the hell did this confidence come from? Had Connor even had sex yet? Had he kissed anyone before Gavin? He was damn good at kissing so either he was a natural or Gavin wouldn’t be his first. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more. He knew he very much wanted Connor, though.

“Yes, definitely, hell yes.” He gave Connor’s hand a quick squeeze, and Connor did it back before pulling him up. Right, yeah ok, he meant now.

He followed Connor back to the bathroom and he felt like a teen about to get his first blowjob. Connor pushed the door open before going to one of the five larger stalls. He momentarily praised the bar for having more accessibility, but that thought went out the door when he was pressed against the stall door as Connor closed it behind them.

Their lips locked again, and Connor slid his leg between Gavin’s. Connor’s hands went under and up Gavin’s shirt, pushing him harder against the door as he touched every bit of skin he could.

Gavin gasped, trying to muffle his moan as he rocked his hips against Connor’s thigh. “What, what were you thinking?” He managed to ask as Connor kissed and nipped down his neck to give Gavin a chance to breathe.

Connor glanced at him, a smirk on those beautiful lips. “I was thinking I could put my mouth to good use, get down on my knees for you.”

Gavin shuddered, nodding quickly. “Yeah, sounds good to me, pretty boy.” All those times he'd imagined this, and now it was finally happening.

Connor’s hands started trailing down lower and lower until they were resting over the zipper. “Thank you for the toys,” Connor whispered. He glanced down at where it hung around Connor’s neck, and Gavin beamed at him.

“You make it sound so dirty, Con, but yeah, of course. Glad you like them.” Now wasn’t the time, but at least he knew Connor had really figured it out. Not that it was hard, but still, it was kind of nice to hear a thank you though none was needed.

Connor hummed and sank down gracefully, unzipping Gavin’s pants as he went. It was a damn good sight, Connor looking up at him through his lashes as he rubbed him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” Gavin sighs, banging his head back on the door as he ran a hand through Connor’s curls. He was obsessed with how Connor let his hair be curly, made him look even cuter and more delectable.

Connor leaned forward, his tongue lolling out as he licked over the bulge. Gavin gasped, tightening his hold on Connor’s hair. The man’s eyes fluttered as he tilted his head back into his hand. “I want it, please?”

Gavin bit his lip, scratching at Connor’s scalp. “Of course, all yours, baby.”

Connor pulled him out of his pants, the cold air hitting him and making him tense slightly. The weight in his gut from pure lust grew heavier when he saw how hungrily Connor was looking at his length.

He banged his head back again as Connor took him in hand and slowly licked from the base to the tip, his tongue swirling around the head and pushing into the slit. “Have you done this before?” He agreed, trying to pull him closer.

“A few times, but I’ve heard I don’t need all that much experience,” Connor smirked as he took him into his mouth and they both moaned at the same time. Gavin couldn’t help but giggle, smiling down at Connor who looked even more blissed out than when he’d suck on the toys.

All the air left him as Connor bobbed his head, taking him all the way down with absolutely no resistance and Gavin tried hard not to buck into that talented mouth. He gripped his hair tight enough that it no doubt hurts but Connor seemed pleased as his eyes closed and he continued to bob and suck.

They both jumped at the sudden amount of sound that filled the bathroom as the door was slammed open and someone stumbled into a stall. The man was singing very poorly and it would have been hilarious if Connor didn’t have his mouth around Gavin’s dick and was still going.

He should have known Connor wouldn’t stop, and it was only the man’s awful singing that was just loud enough to cover up the lewd noises the two were making that let the man continue his business without any knowledge.

Gavin brought a hand up to bite at his knuckles, trying to keep himself silent as Connor took him all the way and then swallowed around him while his skillful tongue did things to the underside of his cock. His hips grinded forward, trying to get deeper and deeper even though he’s as far in as possible.

The sound from the bar hit their ears again as the man left after not washing his hands (fucking ew), but then it’s almost silent again. Gavin dropped his hand back to Connor’s hair and used his grip to push him back just slightly. It’s enough that Gavin had room to fuck his throat roughly, not holding back.

Connor moaned around him, keeping himself nice and pliant while also sucking and swallowing around him. He looked up at Gavin through his lashes and he’s just too damn pretty like this. His lips were red and slick, his face flushed blue, his curly hair an absolute mess from Gavin’s hands, and he looked almost high. He’s not even trying to touch himself, though the tent in his pants hadn’t gone down. Instead, Connor held onto Gavin’s hips, his thumbs brushing against his sharp hip bones.

Gavin was lost in the sensations, and, before he knew it, that cord was almost about to snap. “Fuck! Close, I’m so close, want me in your mouth?”

Connor hummed and made it very clear how much he wanted Gavin to come. It didn’t take much else, and he soon couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled Connor close, squeezing his eyes shut as he bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop from screaming. He’s always been loud with sex, and trying to hold back was hard.

Connor whimpered below him as he swallowed it all down. Gavin panted quickly, rubbing soothingly into Connor’s hair, while he experienced one of the best orgasms of his life.

Connor sat patiently as Gavin came down from it, and once he let go of his hair, slowly pulled off. It’s a huge contrast from Connor’s warm mouth to the coolness of the bathroom, but he carefully put himself away.

“You good? Want me to do something for you?” Gavin asked, glancing down at Connor who looked just as much of a mess as Gavin probably did.

Connor stood up carefully, shaking his head. “No need, I came from that.” He wiped his mouth before grinning widely. Well, fuck, that’s hot and if he didn’t just come he’d be tempted to try and go for another round.

“Huh, that’s good. Um, so thanks I guess, for that.” It was always awkward after but now it felt even more so. Was really it just lust with Connor? Did Connor want to do this again and only this?

Connor tilted his head and followed Gavin as they left the stall and went to the sink. “Of course, it was fun, I very much enjoyed myself.” That didn’t answer any of his questions.

Connor washed his hands and Gavin tried to fix his appearance somewhat to not look like he just had the life sucked out of him from his dick. “Would you uh, wanna do that again some time?”

Connor perked up and nodded quickly. “Yes! I’d love that, but… as a date or just sexual?” Well damn, he just went right out and said it.

“Either way, I guess. Whichever you wanted, you know?” He tried not to get his hopes up, but damn did he want this more than he wanted to have sex again.

“I would like to go on a date with you if that’s ok.” Connor looked sheepish saying this, his head ducked and that blue blush ever-present.

Gavin reached out and gently cupped his cheek. “I’m more than ok with that.” Then he leaned forward and kissed him gently and with as much passion as possible. Connor melted into it, resting his hand on Gavin’s waist and the other on the small of his back. He pulled him in like that and it made Gavin’s heart flutter and his stomach twist with butterflies.

They pulled back slowly and they really needed to not make out in the bathroom, though both of them were grinning. Connor reached down and brought the stim toy up, holding it in his mouth slightly.

“You really can’t get enough uh? Let’s go back, I’ll order you another drink too, and you can have all my cherry stems.” He offered his hand which Connor took. Ok, so maybe Connor driving him insane wasn’t the worst thing ever, if it got him to date Connor then it would be worth it. Plus, now Connor had something to put in his mouth whenever he wanted.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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Enough, For Now

CW: Sickfic, sick whumpee, feverish whumpee, shock collar, brief VERY vague emeto reference, child of whumpee POV, intimate/creepy whumper, noncon touching (nonsexual), noncon kiss (brief)

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with their permission.

"Oh, honey."

The little girl watches around the doorframe as her mother lays a soft hand over her father’s forehead. Her mother’s hair is a waterfall of darkness, the air between the trees on a starless night in the woods behind the house. Her father's is more like tree bark in sunlight, when she doesn't need to worry about what might be hiding in the woods, when they are allowed outside and she can run her fingers over the roughened texture and smell the air.

Sometimes, her father’s necklace - the thick black band he wears that her mother uses to hurt him - is changed so they can go into the woods. He carries her little brother, who is still a baby, and she walks alongside him proud to help carry things, and the three of them are alone with the whisper of the woods around them.

She saw a bluebird, once, singing. Her father had smiled, just a little, at the flutter of wings when she got too close and it took flight.

He’s not smiling now.

Her father lays on his side on the bathroom floor, his cheek pressed to the impeccably clean black-and-white tiles. His face is flushed and there’s a thin film of sweat sticking his shirt to the curves of his shoulders and stomach. It makes him shine under the gentle warm light even as he shivers, compulsively. When her mother’s hand touches his head, he tenses, just a little, but he still can’t stop shivering. "Miss S-Savvie-"

“Look at you.” Her mother’s voice is simpering-sweet, syrupy, like the maple syrup that her father pours on pancakes when they are alone in the mornings when her mother is out of the house. “Poor thing. I suppose this is because I took you to that party last week, isn’t it? You must have picked something up while we were there.”

The little girl remembers - a swirl of colorful dresses and jewelry, too many adults in too small a space. Everyone wanted to congratulate her mother on getting out of the house just a few months after Jamie was born. A person with a thin smile, who was impossibly elegant, had said her mother’s dress was lovely in a voice that didn’t seem like they meant it. Then they’d looked down at her, and something in their severity had softened.

They’d asked to take the little girl to play with their own child, who was in her bedroom because grown-up parties are pretty boring.

It had been fun, although she had been nervous to be away from her father so long, leaving him without her in the throngs of people and all the perfumes in the air. He’d been nervous, too, happy to sweep her into his arms at the end of the night and carry her to the car with her head on his shoulder, her mother’s hand at the small of his back.

Like a family.

Now, though, her father is sick, and her mother’s eyes are brilliant and sparkling as she presses two fingers into the space just underneath his ear, just behind his jaw. In a real family, the little girl thinks, maybe the mom doesn’t look happy to see the dad is too sick to move. He makes a sound almost like a whine, barely escaping, and the little girl swallows. Her own heart races to see how hard he works to open his eyes.

“Swollen lymph nodes,” Her mother murmurs. “Jax, did you manage to get the flu from someone? Honestly, sweetie, the first time you’ve gone out with me in two months and you get sick immediately?”

He turns his head to look up at Savvie, and the little girl doesn’t understand it exactly, but she loves the profile of his face because it is her father’s profile, the line of his nose and neck. His hazel eyes are fogged-over and hazy as he moves, and he might nuzzle into her hand, or he might simply hold still and her mother’s hand was already there.

Then he jerks away, just as quickly, and the little girl goes still and her heart stops with fear - he isn’t allowed to pull away, he isn’t allowed to not smile at her touch, he’ll be in so much trouble. Just as her mother’s eyes go wide their sparkle changes to sunlight off the darkest, deepest ice, Jax begins to cough.

The coughs wrack his body, and he barely covers his mouth. By the time it stops, the first hints of anger have fled her mother’s expression and it has softened again. She sighs and rubs at his back, in soothing soft circles. He drops his hands and turns back to her, a slight half-smile playing on his face, gone, back again.

Wavering, like he’s struggling to remember how to make it.

“‘M sorry, Miss… Miss Savvie,” He says, voice rasping and hoarse. “I-I’m not exactly sure… when I started to feel like this, but…”

Two days ago, the little girl knows. For two sleeps straight, her father’s body has been strange - too hot to the touch, and his hugs have been timid, as though he hurt too much inside to hug as fiercely as he usually did.

She knows. And he knows.

They don’t tell her mother.

He’s been on the bathroom floor all night. The little girl had found him there when she woke up - not in the big bathroom, but this smaller one in the hall next to her room - and had run to get her mother in her grand bedroom.

She never ever went in her mother’s room unless she was allowed to or asked, but she’d been so scared when he barely moved at her shaking his shoulder that she had forgotten the rule. He had laid there so pale and listless, collapsed on the cold floor.

For once, Savvie had not been angry. Instead, she had followed the little girl and told her to wait outside. For a few moments, Savvie had held her hand the way her father usually did, and the little girl had felt… like this was her mother.

But then… then she’d seen Jax. As always, in the little girl's life, the second her mother saw her father, the girl herself was forgotten. Her hand was dropped and she was told to stay out. So the little girl is left on the outside looking in, fingers curled around the doorframe, watching them together.

Her mother's pale pink chemise has a white lace trim that lays across her bare thigh, and her rounded nails are a soft deep mauve as she sighs and moves to kneel, touching his face just at his cheekbone, brushing it with the backs of her knuckles. She smiles, sweet and soft and loving. "It's not your fault, Jax. My poor sweet husband."

Jax only looks up at her, his hazel eyes glimmering and barely focused. But he looks only at her.

Even sick, he knows not to look away.

"But... why did you come all the way out here, honey?" Both her hands are on him now, one cupping his face and the other slipping behind his head, to lift it gently off the floor. "Oh, you're so sweaty. Gross.” Savvie's nose wrinkles, a little, and the little girl wonders if her own nose looks like that.

She hopes not.

"Got… Got sick." Her father breathes and it sounds wrong, somehow, too much air or not enough. "Didn't w-want to wake you. You have… an interview today." He coughs again, and Savvie has to let go for him to roll onto his side again and get the awful sounds out.

Savvie's smile widens. Her blue eyes shine so bright. "How thoughtful," She says, and runs her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, again and again. It looks like petting an animal, not trying to be kind to a man.

If he likes the touch or not, she can't tell. She thinks sometimes he hates every single one.

“Thought I’d feel b-better afterward,” He says, rough-voiced, eyes closed tightly. “Don’t.”

"Oh, sweetie." Savvie smiles and leans down, presses a kiss to his hair. He holds perfectly still for it. He doesn't even breathe. "I don't deserve you," She whispers, just loud enough for the little girl to hear. "But I'll love you forever anyway. Forever, Jax.”

His eyes open again, turning to look over her face as she pulls away, as though he’s checking for something, searching there. Whatever he finds, he relaxes, just a little. "Love you too, Miss Savvie," He says, and the little girl hears that it is flat, compared to how sometimes he hugs the little girl and says nice things to her. "Need… I just need a minute."

“Of course, darling. We’ll move you downstairs once you think you can walk.” Savvie keeps her fingers moving through his hair, sweaty or not.

His gaze shifts a little, and he sees the little girl for the first time. He tenses, eyes widening only slightly. "Is-..." He clears his throat. Both of them freeze at how close he comes to the nickname neither of them wants her to know. "Isabella? Why are you-"

"She woke me up," Savvie says, and slides to her knees, slipping her arms around him and carefully helping him to sit up. He leans heavily against her, so heavily Savvie nearly loses her balance, but she manages not to land in an undignified heap. “She saw you and came to get me. She knew you needed my help.”

The girl would have gone to anyone else, if there were anyone. But they’re here alone, and she isn’t allowed to touch the medicine.

One day, when she’s big enough, she will get him medicine all by herself and she won’t tell her mom anything at all.

“Thank-... thank you, Isabella,” Her father says, in this new sick-voice he has, and when he looks at her, for just a second some of the haze in his eyes is clear. He’s looking at her. It’s only for a second, before he turns back to her mother, and the little girl stores up the way he looked right at her, to save for later times when she is alone. He turns back to Savvie and says, “And th-thank you for coming, Miss Savvie.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Savvie shifts, and the little girl watches as the two of them very slowly stand, Jax working to get his legs under him, standing finally in a way that seems tentative, ready to tip back over at the slightest nudge. His eyes close and his face greys, and the three of them are briefly silent, waiting it out, until the dizziness passes and his eyes open again. “You’re right, though. I do have that interview, and I can’t just be thinking about you, I need to plan… let’s get you downstairs for today. I’ll bring James down once you’re settled.”

There’s a pause, full of meaning and thought the girl doesn’t know how yet to read. “Can… can H-Hannah come to watch them with m-me, or Isaac’s steward, please?” He rarely speaks so many words all at once, unless they’re alone in the sunshine room, where he tells her all the stories about his own family, far far away across an ocean.

Those are the secret stories, the ones that the little girl knows to never let her mother know she’d heard of.

He’s not supposed to think about his other family anymore. Her mother says that she made that rule so he wouldn’t leave the little girl and her brother. He never wanted you, anyway. If I told him he could, he’d walk right out the door and leave us all heartbroken, Isabella. So we have to make sure he never thinks of them, so he can’t leave us.

The little girl is scared that her father might leave, if he could. That her mother’s words are true. But she loves the way he smiles when he tells his stories much, much more than she is scared - and he has promised her, over and over with his arms around her, that he would never leave her here alone.

Now, though, Savvie just rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Jax. How is my uncle’s household supposed to stay in order if you keep trying to steal away half his staff?”

They’re near the door and the girl backs away quickly to stay out of their way, not quite ignored but not needed, either. She watches them move, her mother’s arm around her father’s waist to help him stay upright, and the way he moves so carefully, so slowly, beside her.

The medicine is in the cabinet in the bathroom, but her mother doesn’t go back for it. Instead, she leads Jax away entirely, towards the grand curving staircase that moves down to the ground floor. The little girl watches, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before she realizes what’s happening.

An interview day.

That means her father will spend the day in the basement where no one can hear him - that must be where her mother is taking him, to be hidden away. The little girl licks nervously at her lips, and then flies back into the bathroom. There isn’t anything she can stand on in here, but when she climbs up on the side of the bathtub, she can grab the sink and hold, arms shaking with effort as she pulls herself up.

The cabinet opens for her easily, as she totters, barely balanced on the rounded, shining edge of the sink. Their voices are fading as they move downstairs, her mother’s voice mostly.

Almost entirely.

The little girl finds what she’s looking for - the last time her father was sick, he was allowed a packet of these little discs that come inside a box. The girl can’t read, but she knows the sun and moon signs on the packages, one for day and one for night. She grabs the whole thing, and then looks down, ready to climb-

Oh.

Oh, it’s farther down than she thought.

Her heart shivers in fear - but sometimes you have to do scary things, her father says it all the time when he tells her he is proud of her after her mother locks her in the dark for time out. This is a scary thing, but-

She jumps.

She crashes hard into the tile floor and lets out a high-pitched cry of pain, rolling along the ground. A bright ache flashes in her knee and arm from how she landed, and she presses her lips together to silence any further sounds. They’re swallowed into whimpers that don’t make it further than the door.

Still, she hears her father call, “Isabella?” He’s worried, he heard her, and the little girl stands back up, clutching the box of medicine with white knuckles on her small hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” She calls back, voice shaky, but she tries to sound fine. It will be much worse for her if her mother thinks she wants attention she’s not supposed to have.

“See? She’s fine,” Savvie says, and their steps fade again. The little girl moves with a focus rarely seen in small children to her room, where she picks up a soft little-kid backpack that is pink and lacey. Her mother picked it. She hates it. In the backpack she stashes some crackers and juice, and on top she puts her favorite stuffed animal, and some crayons. Finally, she forces in a coloring book. Then she moves out into the hall.

Her brother isn’t awake yet, no sound from his room, so she moves like a ghost down the staircase, following her parents to the closet with the hidden door. The door is already open, the wooden steps leading down and down and down. It’s scary, to take each step with the single light leaving so many shadows around, shadows that could have monsters hiding in them.

But sometimes, you have to do scary things.

She sets her jaw and lets her chin jut out, raised a little, and makes her slow and careful way down into the chilly basement, where the secret house is. The little place that her father has to hide, when people who aren’t ‘the right people’ come over, so that the ‘wrong people’ won’t know he’s here.

Her mother is already laying her father down in the little bedroom at the back of the basement place. It's so dark it feels like nighttime in there. She can hear them speaking, but not their words, and she tries to be very good and sits very quietly on the couch, out in what looks like a tiny little living room with a television in it, to wait.

"Thank you, Miss Savvie," She hears, low and rough. "I l-love you, Miss Savvie."

The little girl winces, gripping the little brightly colored cardboard box with sweaty fingers that start to dampen the ink. Love is a wrong word. It's a word of threats and anger, of making things better by being good.

Her mother's voice is low, and soft, heavy with something the little girl is too young to know. "I love you, too, sweetie. Feel better."

There's silence.

The seconds draw out, and every single one of them is awful.

Then, her mother murmurs, "I suppose we should stop. I'd hate for me to get sick, too. I'll bring James down once he's up and it'll be just you and the kids. That'll be restful."

He hums, and the silence draws out again, and then she sweeps past the little girl and away without even looking at her. Up the steps, up and up, and the little girl knows they are locked up down here, like always.

Once her mother is for real gone, the little girl moves, silent as any ghost, down the hall herself, leaving her backpack on the couch. In the bedroom her father lays on his side, coughing a little, mostly just shakes of his shoulders. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and coughs again. The room is all dark except for the light in the hallway that frames her when he catches the motion of her shadow and looks up.

He manages a slight, faint smile. "Izzy. Did you follow us?”

“Yes.” Izzy’s voice is soft and grave. “I didn’t want her to need to bring me and get mad.”

He closes his eyes, just for a second, and nods. “I get it. What've you got there?"

She moves up to the bed and shoves the box into one of his hands. The sweat from her hands has buckled the thin cardboard but the packages inside are still good. "Medicine for your sick."

He stares down at the box, blinking. "Alka-Seltzer Severe Flu," he reads, and then meets her eyes. Theirs nearly match - hazel brown for both. “Izzy, honey, you’re not allowed-” The next round of coughing hits and Izzy scrambles up onto the bed, pulling herself up and moving around behind him, rubbing at his back with her hand like he does when it’s her that’s sick. Her mother’s hands move in circles, like the snake’s eyes in The Jungle Book movie, but her father is a straight line down, lifts up, starts at her shoulder blades and down again.

Izzy presses her lips together in concentration and comforts him just the same way. She whispers, “It’s okay, Daddy, you can cough down here, it’s okay.”

There are tears running out of his eyes when he is finally able to stop, and he’s closed his hand so tightly on the box he crushed it in the middle. He jerks in a breath, then another, and gradually the tremors through his body fade. She keeps rubbing his back. “The-... sound. Was that… was that you getting the medicine?”

She licks at her lips, and whispers, “I’m sorry. You’re sick. I didn’t know what, um, what to do-”

“It’s okay. Hey, I’m not mad. I’m not. C’mere.” He rolls onto his back and holds one arm out in invitation, and she snuggles up to his side, skin burning hot through his clothes but still her father, through and through. “I’m not mad. You’re…” He coughs but this round is short and doesn’t seem to hurt him so much. “You’re a good kid, Iz. D’you know that? Not just a good kid, you’re a good fu-, uh… A good person, too.”

Izzy, who is told every day by her mother that she is not a good child, holds onto these soft loving words and buries them inside herself, a barrier against her mother’s sweet-voiced violence.

“I’ve got you, Daddy,” She says, an unconscious echo of his reassurances to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you, okay? You just lay down and do rest.”

He doesn’t answer. His chest moves, inhaling like he wants to speak, but then he only breathes out again and turns his head to kiss her over her curly brown hair.

In a minute, she’ll get up and get him a water cup, and watch with him as the little discs fizz and turn to nothing and make sure he drinks every single bit to feel better. Her mother will bring James down, and Izzy will be the best big sister and her father’s helper and keep Jamie quiet and happy while Jax sleeps, and feels bad for having to sleep, and then sleeps some more.

But for now, in the silence and chill of the little space in the basement where Savvie hides them when other people come who might take her father away from her, Izzy holds on to his shirt and his arm is tight around her shoulders.

If a tear soaks into her hair where his cheek rests on her scalp, she doesn’t notice.

All she knows is his heartbeat, against her ear, and the steady certainty of his love for her, and her love for him. In a house where they have nothing else, that’s enough.

For her, anyway.

For now.

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whumpiary @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

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Fighting Blind, pt 19

Masterlist here ~ thank you @heatherbel for the beta!!

Warnings: shameless angst.

I sleepwalked back to my apartment. The noises of London made me jump at first, my movements jerky. Had I locked up the storeroom? The museum staff entrance? I didn’t know.

I didn’t much care.

I had lain on the floor of the storeroom for some time, clutching the axe. Sobbing my throat raw. Willing it to send me back to before. Willing it to let me look into Pero’s eyes just one more time.

Willing whatever magic that it had before to let me hold him, just for a moment, feel his heart beat, bury my face in his neck. Hear his voice.

Just one more time.

I didn’t remember taking off my filthy robes and changing into the spare outfit I kept in my locker for nights out. The nylon fabric felt incongruous; I’d become used to thick, soft robes. My bra chafed.

I let myself into my apartment. Everything was where I’d left it.

My phone chirped in my bag and I pulled it out to see a text from Emma: Don’t stay too late! Reality TV beckons.

It was our little joke since she had introduced me to Ru Paul’s Drag Race, six months ago.

It felt like five lifetimes ago.

I put the phone to sleep, dropped my bag in the kitchen, and dragged myself to my bed, looking ahead of me but not seeing.

I lay down, fully clothed. The date on my bedside clock showed that here, almost no time had passed. I’d been deposited back to almost the exact moment I'd left.

My gaze was unfocused as I stared at the ceiling. My eyes reported back a view of the plain plaster, but in my mind I saw Pero’s last moments. The length of thick red ribbon around my wrist felt unreasonably heavy. I twisted the fraying ends with my right thumb and forefinger.

If I could have cried some more, I would have.

I felt wrung out, a cloth squeezed too hard and then left out on the line until it sagged, dry as bone, moving only at the whims of the wind.

Eventually, I slept, and when I did, I dreamed of my husband’s big, soulful brown eyes, his scarred hands on my skin, the whisper of his melodic Spanish accent in my ear.

*****

I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking. My arm spread out across the cool, crisp sheets, reaching for the warmth of a broad Spaniard who had been killed in battle thousands of years ago.

I clutched desperately at a pillow that did not smell of him, and I waited for dawn to come, silent and dry-eyed, a husk of myself.

The next day, I called in sick.

Emma left me six texts and three voicemails. Marco tried to call all afternoon. I ignored them both, and I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at nothing, hardly moving except for water and bathroom trips.

Eventually, I slept.

No dreams came.

*****

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a sharp rapping on the door jerked me from my half-sleep, half-grief stricken stupor.

“Fuck off,” I moaned to the empty room, my voice paper-dry, cracking. “You’re not Pero. He’s gone.”

The clock showed a whole day had passed. It was just after ten a.m.

The pounding got louder.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, got up wearing yesterday’s clothes. Walking felt like dragging my feet through a carpet of molasses.

I yanked open the door without checking to see who it was.

Emma stood on the other side, and she took me in with wide eyes, her lips parting.

“Um, oh my God,” she breathed, taking in my wrinkled clothes. I probably stank. “What happened? Flu?”

I gazed at her, my very best friend, trying to summon joy at seeing her face again, when I never thought I would. Instead, I just shrugged.

And then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, and I let my face fall into the familiar feel of her shoulder, and I cried.

Two cups of tea later, I had unloaded the entire story to Emma, who had listened without interruption, various expressions parading across her elfin face, but, who now almost certainly thought I had experienced some sort of intense mental break.

I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t.

“Well,” she said finally, with the tone of someone speaking to a very infirm person or a baby; “You can’t go back to work in this state, can you?”

I gaped at her. “You want me to go back to work now?”

She tugged my hand until I reluctantly stood up from the sofa. “You’ve not got a lot of choice. There’s a man in the staff waiting area and he says he won’t leave until he sees you. Came all the way from America.”

My heart sank further still. I just heard America, not Spain.

Emma herded me into the bathroom, stripped me off as I stared sightlessly at the wall, turned on the water, shoved me under it.

I watched, unfeeling, until the spray hit the red ribbon around my left wrist, and then a cry raked up my throat, and I slid down the tiled wall, curling in on myself, pressing the damp wedding bracelet to my lips, wishing myself back in China. Back in Pero’s arms.

Wishing I could hold him just one more time.

Just one more time.

*****

Emma didn’t say much on the way to the Armouries. What could she say? From her point of view, her colleague had called in sick one day and appeared to have suffered an intense psychotic episode.

I half sleep-walked off the tube, up to the museum. People passing probably thought I was taking very strong drugs.

Emma made me a very strong cup of tea, so strong that perhaps the spoon could have stood up by itself, and steered me to my desk chair. “Sit. I’ll bring the visitor.”

I stared into the mug. “Do I have to? Please don’t make me.”

Emma set her hands on her hips, her face creased in sympathy, brow pinched with worry. “You can go home right after. I swear. Okay? You get one more day of whatever... this is, and then I’m taking you out on the town. London at our feet. Or, you know, twelve hours on the sofa, with popcorn and Ru Paul. Okay?”

I nodded, just to get her to leave.

Time passed; I wasn’t sure how much. I stared at my PC’s Welcome to the London Armouries screensaver, and wondered how much trouble I would get in if I hurled my computer out of the window.

Then I remembered I didn’t even have a window in this office.

I smiled without humour.

A soft knock at the door made me look up. “Come in,” I called, with zero enthusiasm.

The handle turned, and I expected to see Emma, but I didn’t. What I saw made me topple off my chair.

A man with Pero’s face stood in the open doorway. His hair was lighter, cream caramel kissed with autumn, tousled. Scruff adorned his upper lip and the same strong jaw as Pero’s.

The same soulful, deep brown eyes.

The same striking profile, same nose I’d loved the hook of.

I stared at him as all the noise was sucked from the room. My ears rang.

He hurried over to me. “What the- Are you okay?” he asked in a husky-edged, drawling baritone, California with just a lick of Texas.

I stared at him wordlessly. My mouth opened and closed, until I finally squeaked out, “is this some kind of joke?”

The man stepped back, brows furrowed. “Funny. I’m pretty sure that's my line.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw, and that was when I saw it.

The circular mark on the root of his thumb. The depiction of infinity; the spiral, the serpent eating its own tail. Not black, like ink, but the colour of melanin.

My heart lurched into my throat.

This time when he offered me his hand, I took it.

Our palms touched, and something electric chased down my arm. The stranger jerked as if I’d struck him, slapping his hands over his face as he reeled back, hitting the wall and sliding down it. I rocked back on my heels, staying on the floor.

He held his hands over his eyes for a moment that stretched, shaking, his shoulders hunched in.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes had changed. Darker, somehow. His mouth just a little scowly.

My heart jumped like it had been supercharged, because there was my Pero. I was frozen to my spot.

“The dreams,” the man said, very slowly. “I’ve been having these crazy dreams. But they’re.. memories, aren’t they?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“They’re my memories. But also… not mine.” He stared into the distance for a long moment, his face pale, wonder sketched on his features. “And this.” He ran the index finger of his right hand over the birthmark on his left thumb. “You did this.” His eyes sparked hazel fire, accusing me of this insanity.

And he was right. I had done this to him.

I held his gaze, my heart in my throat, heavy. “I gave it to you. Before.”

The stranger’s hand eased over his abdomen, resting where Pero had been gored open by Tao Tei teeth. “It feels… fuck, it feels real.”

I swallowed, my eyes burning, stomach bottoming out. Tears streaked down my face and I let them come, my stomach cramping, and for an agonising moment, it was like losing him all over again. In my mind’s eye I saw the blood pulse from him, his life slipping away and me crouched over him, helpless to stop it. “It was real.”

We sat together in silence for, I don’t know how long. I both ached to touch him and feared it. Feared the modern texture of his open-flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. Feared the rough denim of his jeans.

And how would he smell? Not of lemon oil, leathers or woodsmoke. How could he?

“I’m Zach,” he said into the dragging silence. “Zachary Pero Wellison.”

My mouth dropped open.

Zach smiled lopsidedly, pushing a hand over his face. The face that was Pero’s, and yet, not. “So… I guess with the addition of…” He waved his hand between us. “...this, I’m sort of…. Both of us? I’m Zach, but I somehow have the memories of….. Pero.” He pressed a fist to his head and then popped his fingers in a “head exploding” reference. “Is this really happening, do you think?”

I laughed, without humour. “At this point, I don’t think I know.”

Zach huffed out what might have been a laugh. “The shrink sure as hell didn’t cover this in PTSD counselling.”

His deadpan delivery made me smile for the first time since I’d woken up back in 2019.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by voices that lingered and then, after a minute, moved on. My gaze flicked over Zach, my stomach heartsick. Pero, my Pero, was in there, and yet, he wasn’t.

This was impossible. Everything I had ever learned told me what Zach and I were experiencing just did not happen.

But.

“You’re military?”

He nodded, shrugging off the shoulder of his flannel shirt and pulling up the right sleeve of his t-shirt to show me the bottom half of an intricate tattoo on his shoulder. “Semper Fi. Marines. Buzz cut grew out.”

I ate up the extra view of his body, greedy to know where he would be the same, and where he might be different.

“Glad I never saw anything like… the Tao Tei in Afghanistan,” he said shakily, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips.

I held his gaze. “It was an experience. Are you.. I take it you don’t still serve?”

“Nope. Three tours and an honorable discharge, two years on the street, but for the past five I’ve had a steady job. A roof over my head.” He summed up his life so flippantly; his delivery really reminded me of Pero’s nonchalance about death.

I sell my sword for coin, I sleep when fighting has exhausted me, and one day I will die and return to the earth. Simple, don’t you think?”

“Um, so... can I get you a coffee?” I asked, swiping my hands over my eyes. It felt like a monumentally banal thing to say seeing as this man now seemed to hold every memory my dead husband had ever clocked up, but I didn’t have anything else.

“Got any whiskey?” he half-laughed.

“I wish I did.”

“I’m good. Drank about a gallon of it at the hotel. Nerves. I, um…” He lifted those cocoa eyes to mine, and for a second, a heartrending second, it was Pero looking at me. My pulse tripped. “This is... fuck, this is a lot. I really…” He clenched his hands into fists, drawing my attention to that birthmark, the same lines, lines I had drawn, only in that brown shade of skin pigment. “I wanna touch you. Or he does. I don’t know. But… can I? Is that okay? I can’t think about anything else.”

Twin zings of excitement and fear skidded up my spine. “Um… okay.”

Neither of us moved.

Zach laughed nervously, standing. He towered above me as I sat in the corner next to my computer chair. I let my gaze travel up his body, long legs in faded blue jeans, a flat stomach under that white t-shirt, the lines of his torso delineated by the open plaid shirt.

His eyes were soft as he offered his hand again, palm out flat.

This time, when I took it, no lightning. Just a warm touch. His fingers sure and confident around mine.

He tugged me gently to a standing position, until we were only a foot apart, then he let our joined hands fall to our sides. We stood together like that for goodness knew how long, looking into each other’s eyes; his so familiar and yet so new.

Zach lifted his free hand to gently skim his thumb along my jaw, and just like that, the air changed. Each breath I took seemed supercharged as I gazed into his big, soulful eyes. “Zach,” I whispered, and it didn’t feel wrong.

He slowly lowered his head to mine, his eyes constantly flicking to meet mine, checking it was okay. Checking I was okay.

And then just before our lips met, a shudder went through him, and he whispered, “Cielo,” with just a hint of Spanish melody, and there was no way in hell he could have known that word unless-

And I yanked him down to me and kissed him with all the love and yearning and grief in my heart, and he kissed me back. His hands came up to spread over my back, and the warm, solid wall of his chest felt divine.

Perfect.

Bliss.

I opened for him, and he licked into my mouth, his teeth scraping just a little, and I welcomed the tiny hurt, pressing closer into his body. His lips were Pero’s lips, his little shaky inhale the way Pero would sometimes suck in a breath when we kissed. I shoved my hands beneath his open plaid shirt, felt the play of muscle on his back, under the soft t-shirt, and it was like holding Pero. I sobbed into Zach’s mouth and he drew back, frowning.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I -”

“I know,” Zach whispered, stroking my hair back. “I was there. He - I - loved you … He loved you. More than anything.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling. “This isn’t happening. I would give anything to have him back. Anything. But this is… it can’t be real.”

Zach cupped my cheek, his eyes dark, stormy, and for a moment it was my husband looking at me. “Ask me something only he would know.”

I opened my eyes again. This was like living in an alternate reality of the film Ghost. But real. I felt the floor under my feet. I felt Zach’s palm against my skin, gun-callused, the same way Pero’s had been sword-callused.

“What did he say to me, when we... when I…” The words dried up on my tongue. Suddenly I didn’t want to share, which made no sense. “The first time,” I finished lamely.

Zach dropped his gaze from mine, a flush stealing over his cheeks. “Cielo. Heaven. I will not last,” he murmured, that Spanish melody sneaking, incrementally, into his tone.

My pulse spiked.

No one could know that.

He met my eyes again. “Fuck. I know. This can’t be happening. But it is. Unless we’re both suffering the same delusion.”

I half-laughed. “Unless. God, Zach. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about…. all this.”

“I’m not. I wanted answers to these insane dreams, to the burning feeling on my birthmark, and however absolutely batshit those answers are... I had so many moments over in Afghanistan, wondering what I was fighting for... where my life was going. Always thought - it’s so stupid, but always thought I was just waiting for something. And maybe that something is you.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh, Zach.”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like just my twisted little secret anymore.”

“I-” My heart pounded. “Secret. Oh my God, secret. The axe.”

Zach’s gaze shot to mine, wonder sketched on his handsome features. “I know how to open it.”

*****

I’d never run so fast before. I skidded out of the office, Zach on my heels, past some very surprised visitors and down to the artefact storeroom. I could only hope that no one had been there since the day before yesterday.

Zach stood silently by, but I saw his hands clenched into fists by his side as I swiped my keycard.

It was still there.

The door slammed behind us as I lurched on to the floor, picking it up, uncaring about being without cotton gloves.

Zach held out his hands, and I passed it to him. He gazed at it in wordless awe, his eyes poring over it, fingers stroking reverently.

Then he turned it over, pressed his thumbnail into the slice representing Pero’s scar in the carving on the bottom, and the handle turned, loosening.

I gasped in shock, surprise, joy.

Zach gently pulled the haft loose to reveal a shallow compartment in the metal handle, two pieces of parchment and a loop of crimson lying inside, like the finest of treasures.

With hands that shook, I took out Pero’s handfasting bracelet. The edges were frayed, the fabric so old it had discoloured, but it was his. I lifted it to my lips, felt my heart wrench from my body.

Zach had set the axe down and held the pieces of parchment in his palms. His eyes were wide as he breathed, “I wrote this. I mean, he did. But I remember writing it.”

I paused, the dusty, faded bracelet pressed to my cheek. “What?”

He showed me the yellowed parchment, the writing faded beyond recognition. “The words are almost gone. But I was there. I - he - wrote it while you slept. On the handfasting night.”

The world spun. I braced myself up on one arm. “Would you read it? Please.”

Clearing his throat, Zach closed his eyes, and to my amazement and joy, to my sadness and gratitude, Pero’s voice left his lips.

Querida

You sleep as I write this. My wife, in our bed. Your body and soul more beautiful than I could ever have wished for, in this life certainly. I am not good with words, mi vida, but you must know that you hold my old, scarred heart in your hands.

I think perhaps, you always have.

If you are reading this then I have gone with God, but whatever He may have planned for my old bones, I will carry you with me always.

Until we meet again,

Yours,

Pero

When he’d finished, tears streamed unashamed down my face, wetting my jeans. I couldn’t have cared less.

Zach’s face was drawn, too. He set the two pieces of paper aside and opened his arms, and without a second thought, I crawled into them. He rocked me gently, and I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in; he didn’t smell of Pero, he smelled of rosemary and sandalwood and coffee, but it wasn’t wrong.

“Thankyou,” I whispered into his shirt. “Thank you, for letting my hear his voice, just one more time.”

Zach said nothing, just nodded. He understood. He always would.

We sat that way for I didn’t know how long. Eventually I roused myself. “Zach?”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “It’s still me. I think,” he drawled, American again, but that husky-edged voice curled its way into my heart.

“What’s the other piece of paper?”

He lifted one arm to pluck it from the floor. “It’s… what is this language?”

I recognised the penmanship. “Oh my God, it’s Gaelic.” I scrambled off his lap, reaching for my phone. This piece of parchment had been wrapped inside the other, and the words had been mostly preserved. I took a picture of the text, uploaded it to the translation app a colleague at the British Museum had developed. While still in beta, it nevertheless contained many ancient languages.

Within a few moments, a translation appeared, and Zach and I gazed down at the screen as I read aloud:

Jade

The thought that this message may find you in a future many, thousands of years from now gives me pause, I must admit, but since fighting those… Monsters, I find nothing surprises me.

We gave your husband a warrior’s wake. That I swear to you. Lin saw to many of the details personally. After your rooms were cleared I found a note in his hand and I enclose it here.

We captured a Tao Tei in the days following Tovar’s death. We fed Ballard to it. A fitting end for such a waste of air, I think you’ll agree.

And after that, the strategists found the Queen. We think we’re halfway to learning how to be rid of them. Once and for all, I pray.

A year has passed since you and Tovar left me. As I write this, Lin sits beside me with our twins, Jade and Pero, named for the man who saved Lin’s life, and the woman he loved beyond the boundaries of time.

I don’t know what will happen when we die, but we will keep Tovar’s axe in our family as best we can. Lin says she trusts the spirits to take care of it, and after all I’ve seen here, I can’t disagree with her.

She wouldn’t listen even if I did.

We miss you.

With love,

William Garin

*****

A/N: One more chapter to go on this journey. Thank you, thankyou, thankyou for all your love, comments, messages, reaction gifs, theories, THANKYOU x 1000000000. Thank you for indulging my insanity.

Tagging: @babybelou @theravenreads @vanillabeanlattes @alienprincesspoop @knittingqueen13 @lackofhonor @holographic-carmen @thewayofthemandalorian @buckstaposition @thegreenkid @agirllovespasta @chews-erotically @apples-of-february @mstgsmy @songsformonkeys @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @buckysalefty @readsalot73 @restingnurseface @opheliaelysia @emmy-dandiliom918 @prdsdjarin @a-seeker-of-imagination @havenforafrazzledmind @badassbaker @thewaythisis @kindablackenedsuperhero @keeper0fthestars @starlight-starwrites @agentpike @alldatalost @littlemissthistle @cryptkeepersoul @stylelovechild @maryan028 @seawhisperer @emesispo @beccaplaying @hdlynn @jaime1110 @marydjarin @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrsparknuts @pinkzsugar @cutepurplehedgehog @ksgeekgirl @skdubbs @roxypeanut @usernameistooshort @tortles

#fighting blind #pero tovar fic #the great wall fic #the great wall au #pero tovar au

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kirishimaskousin · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Out His S/O Can Sing

Please enjoy these fluffy head cannon/one shots for Bakugou, Kirishima, and Denki. I linked all the songs, and 100% recommend them.

Warnings: none

A/N: I don’t think each student has their own bathroom in the AU dorms,,,,but I’ve taken creative liberties. fight me. Also, I tried not to be too specific about gender or race, but Kirishima’s is about wash day sooooo. (my blackness is showin....not sorry)

Bakugou Katsuki

Song: Kiss You Right Now by Duckworth

It was Saturday evening. You had come to Bakugou’s dorm earlier that morning to study for a big test.

Bakugou sat at his desk and you sat cross legged on his bed, surrounded by notes and books.The studying was going well...

Until you fell asleep.

“(Y/N) Do you have notes from chapter–”

He turned around to see you sprawled out on his bed. If it was anyone else, he’d be mad that they were wasting his time. Instead, he just looked over your frame. He studied the rise and fall of your chest, the slight twitch in your lips, and the small sliver of torso that peeked from under your tousled shirt.

He picked up the notes you were laying on so that you didn’t crumple them any further and left you to go train.

When he returned, he expected you to still be asleep or to be gone to study on your own.

So, when he heard a muffled voice coming from his room, he stood listening for a moment.

The voice was mellow and effortlessly enchanting. He’d never admit it, but he wanted to stay there listening forever.

He cracked open the door just enough to see you sitting at his desk and wearing one of his large hoodies with your headphones in. You were facing away from him, doing more singing than studying, so he stepped inside to watch you dance around in your seat.

You fell silent for a moment, and Bakugou opened his mouth to speak. Before he could call you out though, you began to sing in a more sensual tone.

“I think I wanna kiss you, right here in front of everybody, right now.”

A blush crept up bakugou’s neck, and a crooked smile played on his lips. He rubbed the hairs on the back of his neck as he tried to make a decision.

“I think I wanna miss you, purposely leave so I can come back to you, right now.”

Part of him wanted to keep listening, drinking in your buttery voice.

The other part of him wanted to wrap his arms around you from behind and give you the kisses you sang about.

And a teeny tiny part of him just wanted to scare you.

“That's some holy matrimony, how we joining our lips. Holy moly the one and only to grip on yo hips.”

With those exciting words, your dark voice, and the languid motion of your head, he made up his mind.

With two large strides, he crossed the room and spun you around in his chair.

The sudden movement made you jump and clutch your chest, but you barely got the chance to scold your smirking boyfriend before he planted a harsh kiss on your lips.

One of your headphones laid on the desk, still playing as Bakugou kissed your breath away.

“When I kiss you, Right her in front of everybody, right now.”

As if he could hear your lungs screaming for air, Bakugou pulled away and walked towards his shower.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just said it.” And he shut the bathroom door behind him.

Denki Kaminari

Song: Electricity by: Sam Pinkerton

Class 1-A was still riding the high from the school festival. Everyone had worked so well together and had so much fun showing off their talents that they decided to have their very own class talent show.

Chatter and giggles filled the common room as everyone piled onto the plush couches. You were running a bit behind, so all the seats were filled when you got there.

You scanned the group, looking for a seat on the floor with the best view of the “stage”. Before you could find your seat, Denki called out to you.

“I saved you a seat right here.” He patted his lap and you chuckled a little.

Kaminari never really cared about PDA. He was so proud to call you his girlfriend and he took every chance to show the world that you were together. He’d hold your hand in the market, pull you close when you shared a booth at a restaurant, and even stole kisses on your strolls.

For the most part, you were okay with his affections, but you rarely let him do such things around your classmates. You knew they’d tease you relentlessly, and mineta would definitely be a perv about it.

But, everyone was focused on their conversations, so you took your seat in Denki’s lap.

“What’s cracking cutie?” He laughed, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Excited to show off your talent?”

“Um, not really.” You held up your hand to show your trembling fingers. “I’m a bit nervous.” You’d been a part of the technical team for the school festival, so no one had to see you, but today there'd be so many pairs of eyes on you. and Shoji’s quirk didn’t help

Denki grabbed your hand and brought it to his cheek. “Don’t worry babe, I know you’re gonna be great”

“You don’t even know what my talent is.”

“That is true,” he let out giggle “but everything you do is amazing. I believe in you.” He gave you a quick peck on your cheek. You weren’t sure if it was your nerves, your heart, or Denki’s quirk, but you felt a spark where his lips had been. Denki pulled you in tight, as everyone began to perform.

The talent show was almost over, and it was your turn. You looked to Jiro, who was plugging her guitar into an amp. She nodded to you once you were ready, and you took the stage.

Looking at all your classmates made your stomach flip, so you looked to your boyfriend instead. He sat there in his pikachu onesie I couldn’t help myself clapping his hands with the biggest smile on his face.

A smile that eased your nerves.

Jiro began to play, you closed your eyes, and let the words fall from your lips.

“I remember the first time that I ever looked you in the eye”

The smile on Denki’s face slowly melted into an amazed gasp. He’d call you an angel before, but he was starting to think there was more truth to that pet name than he originally thought.

The lyrics dripped off your tongue like syrup, and your voice wrapped him in a warm embrace.

‘I love you like I never stopped. I need you not to break my heart”

You opened your eyes, staring into Denki’s. Everyone was leaning forward in their seats, but you only noticed Denki.

“The electricity between you and me”

A blush dusted the tip of his nose as you shared sickeningly sweet stares. His proud gaze filled you with confidence to sing harder. As long as you were singing to him, everything would be fine.

Before you knew, the song ended and Denki was released from his trance.

“WOOOOOOOHH!! THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND EVERYONE!” Denki ran up to you, pulling you into a suffocating hug and jumping up and down. Heat rose in your cheeks. His praise meant the world to you.

Eijiro Kirishima

Song: If I Was Your Woman cover by: Alicia Keys

Kirishima had heard you sing many times before. You two would sit down to play a video game or watch funny videos, and end up singing silly made up songs until Mr. Aizawa came to yell at you about breaking curfew.

Kirishima hadn’t heard your real voice though. Whenever you sang together, your notes were broken up by fits of giggles and silly dance moves.

He didn’t know how well you could sing until the day you brought all your hair and skin care products to his room. It was one of your few days off from hero training, and you were in desperate need of a wash day, but you also wanted to spend time with Kiri, so you decided to compromise.

Wash day in Kirishima’s room!!

He just sat back as you connected to his speaker, played your washday playlist and disappeared into his bathroom.

The songs on the playlist were all soulful and rhythmic, something Kiri wasn’t used to.

This guy def listens to EDM and rap 25/8

He just sprawls out on his back and savors the domestic symphony. The sweet melodies, the sound of your shower, and your light hums all wash over him.

Kirishima is at peace, and nearly falls asleep. But, his ears perk up as he hears your voice spilling under the bathroom door. You weren’t humming anymore. You were actually singing, and it was heavenly.

“If I was your woman and you were my man”

He had definitely underestimated your talent. Your voice was soft but textured, like you were pulling the lyrics from your very core. He turned the speaker down to hear you better.

“You're a part of me but you don't even know it. I’m what you need but I'm too afraid to show it.”

You were filling the song with passion and heartache, but it came so easily. Your voice was so strong and clear, unlike anything he’d ever heard from you.

Kirishima, captivated by the song, got up to stand by the bathroom door. You hit every note, rode every riff, and blew him away. Your voice reverberated through the walls as he anticipated the song’s climactic bridge.

“If I were your woman. If I were your woman, here's what I'd do. I'd never, never, stop loving you.”

The words rang in his chest, and tears welled in his eyes. He wanted to suck the tears back up, but even Crimson Riot, the manliest man, would cry at your performance. So he let the droplets fall.

The song ended, and the water turned off. He could hear you padding around the bathroom as you continued to hum to yourself, but He was stuck there, replaying your song over and over in his mind.

You stepped out of the bathroom, steam pooling at your feet. “Why are you standing at the door, Kiri?”

He didn’t answer. He just took in your smaller frame, clad in fuzzy shorts, one of his band tees, and a towel wrapped around your head. How could you be so casual after singing your heart out?

“I- I’m just glad to be your man.” He pulled you into a hug that nearly crushed your ribs.

It took a moment to click, but when it did, you let out an airy chuckle. “Oh you heard me? Oops.”

“Don’t apologize, you sounded so beautiful.”

“Thanks Kiri. I’m glad to be your woman.” You left a soft kiss on his lips then pulled two packages from behind your back. “Now,” you said, excitement bubbling inside of you, “Time for face masks!”

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