#aND YOU *sticks my finger to your nose gently get aggressively* YOU ARE THE REASON I FANGIRLED SO HARD I HAD TO WRITE BLOOM. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

✰ ✰ ✰

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura #eeeeee happy birthday baby boy ilysm #hehehehehe #ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY

688 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Note

2. 3 words, 8 letters - I "hate" you

❆ title: i hate you

❆ member: enhypen sunghoon

❆ wc: 1.4k

❆ warnings: idk just alot of angst

❆ synopsis: “If I had told you that I'd never hurt you, would you believe?”

❆ send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it [closed]

autumn. the entire afternoon, he didn’t even look at you. he may have been in your bed, playing with his phone and aggressively tapping away at the screen like he normally would, but he didn’t say a single word. not to you, not at the screen or at the automated characters in the game.

“are you alright?” a gentle crease strains your brows. “you’ve been... very quiet since you came over.”

“i’m fine,” he brushes it off, doesn’t even bother looking away from his phone. “i’m just... thinking about stuff.”

your thumb locks your phone, eyes drifting from the screen to him. “thinking about what? tell me about it.”

“i don’t want to.”

cold.

“why not? was it something i did earlier that pissed you off or did something happen at home?”

silence.

“oi,” gently wrapping your fingers around his hands that were holding his phone, you pull the device out from between his hands. “talk to me. what’s wrong?”

he rolls his eyes in exasperation, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue as he sits up in your bed. his back creaks against the cushioned head board, the back of his head resting on the blue wall.

the royal blue shade flushes kind memories through your mind - sunghoon had helped you paint your walls just a year ago.

“do you remember when you kicked the can of paint over? my god, it was so expensive and i was so mad-”

“stop.”

a sudden chill runs down your spine. there are a few moments of silence; heavy tension in the air, before you finally sit up and look to him.

“hey, i didn’t mean to bring that up if you didn’t like it. i just thought-”

“no, i’m saying we should stop.”

a gentle frown draws across your forehead.

“did i do something wrong? i-”

“no, i just-” sunghoon pushes himself off the bed, running his hand through his hair and picking up his phone. “i don’t think this is it. you and me. us.”

“i don’t get it. if i didn’t do anything wrong, then what is wrong?”

“what’s wrong is that i don’t love you, okay?” he grabs his hoodie and pulls it over his head.

“wha...?”

“in fact,” he licks his slightly-chapped lips, thick brows almost pasted to one another, and his eyes had seemed to lost the light you once thought were for you. how could he say that so easily? “i hate you.”

pent up frustration yanks his chin away from you. watch him pick up his bag, full of your memories with him, full of laughter and cries and smiles that you had shared with him, that you had fallen in love with him over.

“sunghoon, what-”

“don’t,” he swings his bag over his shoulder and turns, just enough to show you his side profile. “don’t call me ever again. delete my number. i’ll be blocking you from all our social medias.”

so, the door swings shut behind him, and there are soft whispers from outside as he bids your family goodbye.

the room still smells like him. your fucking bed probably smells like him. the walls have been painted by him. the pictures of your phone either have him or were taken by him.

the downfall of falling in love is that the same person who can give you anything, can take away everything.

you find yourself zoning out as you sit at the edge of your bed, tears silently streaming down your face and soaking the ends of your sleeves. your mucus has long stained the lines of your lips and your cheeks are bloated from the quiet crying.

no reason. no explanation.

now all you know is that he hates you.

knock knock knock

winter. snow. snow angels. snow flakes. ice.

“i know you’re in there! please open the door and come out!” jake’s voice is muffled through the door. the shadows stretched from under the door shifts restlessly, but you’re stuck to your bed like gum to hair.

“please. if you don’t see him off at the airport, you’ll never see him for the next few years. what if he stays? what if he doesn’t want to come back? you can still make it in time and you can still come to some kind of agreement.”

the sour in your nose starts to spread through your nasal cavities again, and you can feel the lump of sobs stuck in the back of your throat. it feels like someone had just punched you in the gut so hard that your stomach was going to tumble out from your mouth.

“you can’t possibly believe that he’s leaving because he meant what he said! this is... his dream. he was absolutely torn just by thinking about this, god! none of us knew he was going to pull this stunt!”

a soft thunk. the shadows stop shifting, but he’s standing directly against the door. he probably has his forehead shoved against the wood.

“y/n, please. we can’t stand by and watch this go to waste like that. we all knew sunghoon had nothing but eyes for you and he still does, i swear to god. he only said that because he didn’t want you to commit to a long-distance relationship and possibly neglect you but... you’ll get through it, won’t you?”

“is she not coming out?”

“no. she’s not responding.”

“move over. y/n, it’s jungwon.”

you sit up slowly, starting to wonder if sunghoon’s entire friend group is standing right outside your door.

“sunghoon told me not to tell you this... or anybody in fact, but he said he’d be too greedy if he wanted both you and skating. he said... that he thinks he doesn’t deserve you, and that no matter how hard he tried, there would still come a time that he might hurt you. he said that skating is technical and can be improved and the only person getting hurt from it is him, but he can’t bear to hurt you ever. not now, not in the future.”

“since when did he say that?”

riki.

“shut up- you ask the worst questions at the worst timings ever.”

sunoo.

“y/n, are you listening? sunghoon still loves you and he never meant it when he said he hates you. he said it as... as an attempt to hurt you one last time, so you’ll stay and he’ll go live his dreams while thinking he’s protecting you.”

“we all know that’s bullshit, by the way.”

jay.

“jay!”

heeseung.

“what?! it’s true!”

by now, you’re standing with your hand on the door handle. the only thing between you and his friends was the door, and a broken heart that might just be too far for redemption.

the jostle outside continues, and the shadows start shifting all over again as the boys squabble to get the door open.

but it stops abruptly, and you see the light under the door shine through before it’s shadowed again.

“y/n.”

sunghoon.

he tries the door, but you’re too frightened to open it. why would you open your heart to someone who has broken it before?

“please... open up. i... i thought that this would be the easiest and the best way to make sure you were safe from all the things i wanted to do... but i am far from right and i can’t... i’m- i’m sorry... that i chose to go down this route. i just... i never want to see you like this. i’m sorry.”

your trembling fingers kiss the cold metal of the door knob lock, and you twist it with a click.

the winter coat is snug around his shoulder, and he has a scarf around his neck with a passport boarding pass sticking out from one of his coat pockets. the cracks in his heart when he sees your face shows in his eyes as glistening tears, arms opening wide as he takes a step forward.

a sharp exhale, followed by sudden, almost-violent sobs into his coat as he sinks to the ground with your head in his shoulder. he rests his cheek against your head, hands stroking your hair.

“i can never hate you, i promise.”

#multifandomnet #enhypennetwork #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #sunghoon fanfic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen sunghoon fanfic #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon scenarios #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon x reader #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen

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mono-moonchilds · 4 years ago

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY |KTH|

→ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

→ Genre: Smut, Mature, one-shot

→ Warnings: smut, blowjob, photoshoot, photographer!taehyung, established relationship.

→ Word Count: 2k

→ Summary: You and Taehyung have a photoshoot in honor of it being his birthday.

→ Note: Based off this lovely request. <3

Twisting your body into another pose you stare intently into the camera in front of you.

“Is this okay?” You asked nervously. You’d never done something like this. Never in a million years even in your wildest fantasies had you pictured yourself doing something like this.

Taehyung peaked his eyes over the camera sending you one of his comforting beautiful smiles. “You look perfect, baby.”

For months your boyfriend had been asking- no begging for you to allow him to do a photoshoot of you and finally for his birthday you’d agreed. You weren’t naked like he’d first suggested, but you were wearing a skimpy set of lingerie that left barely anything to the imagination.

“You sure?”

“Positive. You were naturally made to be in front of a camera.”

You giggled. One thing for sure, Taehyung was always going to be your number one hype man.

“What? I’m serious. You look amazing ______.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot.“Thank you, Tae.”

“No, thank you for letting me do this.” The camera clicked again. “Best birthday gift ever,” Taehyung murmured to himself.

“Turn around for me on your knees.”

You follow Taehyung’s directions and move into position. “Like this?”

“Mhmm, poke that pretty ass out for me a little more….Yeah- that's perfect right there.”

“I hope you’re not posing any other girls like this.” You joked.

“Never. You’re the only one baby.”

Taehyung began to bring the camera back up to take another picture but before he captures the shot he pauses and just keeps his eyes focused on you for a long time.

“What?”

“Nothing it’s just….god, the things I want to do to you right now.” He groaned out.

Feeling flustered your head falls down and as if it was possible you felt your face grow even hotter. Although it wasn’t new to have Taehyung praise you, you couldn’t help but be affected. You felt so exposed sitting in front of his camera like this but seeing his reactions was making it all worthwhile.

His hand slipped underneath your chin lifting it back up. “Don’t get shy on me now,” Taehyung said.

He leaned forward, soft lips coming into contact with yours. It didn’t take long for his soft pecks to turn into both of your tongues gliding together in a messy union.

You pulled away slightly. “I thought you wanted your photoshoot.”

“I don’t know what I want right now.” Taehyung chuckled.

Your eyes fell down, a grin filled your face as you stared at the tent forming in his pants. “I think I know what you want.” You reached forward cupping his cock.

Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath. His eyes darkened but instead of acting like you expected he gently grasped your wrist and pushed it down. “Not yet.” Taehyung waved his camera. “Back into position, baby.”

With a pout etched across your face, you went back into position. But now with your attention divided you couldn’t properly do it. Instead of looking into the camera like you were supposed to, your eyes kept flicking back and forth between it and the print that was pressed against Taehyung’s pants. And even more distracting was the growing slickness between your legs.

“Eyes up here.” Your boyfriend deep voice orders.

You whimper. “Haven’t you gotten enough pictures?”

“It’s my birthday. I’ll take as many pictures as I want. Now turn so your back is facing me, spread your legs, and stick your ass up in the air for me.”

You look at Taehyung with wide eyes. Although you’d done a lot of poses so far none of them were as ‘vulgar’ as the one he was telling you to do now.

“You’ve done it plenty of times before,” Taheyung smirked.

With feigned irritation, you rolled your eyes. “Not on a camera.”

“I’d hope not. This is supposed to be our thing.” He joked, but then said. “But if your uncomfortable I can choose another pose. We only gotta do what you want, baby.”

You shook your head. You were going to do this. Not only for Taehyung but for yourself. One of the reasons you’d finally allowed yourself to do this was because not only did you want to for Taehyung’s birthday but to push yourself to finally stop holding back out of fear. It was only Taehyung, you knew and trusted that he wouldn’t show anyone the pictures.

What was a better place to start?

Turning onto your stomach, you lifted your ass high into the air. If you were being honest, knowing that there was a camera behind you made you feel a bit awkward and slightly uncomfortable but when you heard Taehyung swear approvingly under his breath it disappeared.

“This is going to be my favorite one.”

“You’ve said that about every picture.”

Click.

“And I’ve meant it too,”

Taehyung’s fingers suddenly brush against your thinly covered cunt and you let out a mixture of a breathy and surprised moan.

“Fuck,” He swore as his thumb rubbed down your slit. The cool air smacks against your pussy as Taehyung pushed the panties to the side, his thumb dipping ever so slightly between your folds. “You’re so wet.”

Click.

You shrieked and flipped back over. “Taehyung!”

“I had to. It was too pretty to resist.”

“Give me the camera.” You requested firmly. The smirk that was on your boyfriend’s face dropped. He opened his mouth to say something but you shushed him. “Camera.” You repeated.

He lifted to string from around his neck and placed the camera into your hands.

“Take your pants off.” You ordered next. This time your voice sounding less confident than it had two seconds ago.

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Take your pants off. Underwear too. If my bare picture is going to be in here, it’s only fair yours is too.”

An amused snort left Taehyung’s nose.

“I’m seri-”

In one swift move, quicker than you’d expected, Taehyung’s pants and underwear were down.

“Fair warning though, in my opinion, cunts are prettier than cocks on camera.”

If it was anyone else you probably would have agreed. Cocks were weird to look at but Taehyung’s was pretty. Thick, long, veins running up and down it, a pretty pink tip that was decorated with precum that’d leaked out.

“Ah-ah,” Taehyung tsked, pushing your head away. “We agreed to a picture, not a blowjob.” You hadn’t even realized you’d been inching towards it. “Although your lips wrapped around my cock would make a pretty picture too.”

“What do I do?” You asked cluelessly. Taehyung was the photographer, not you.

“You hold up the camera, press the button, and take a picture.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah no shit, but like what do I tell you to do. Like with poses.”

Taehyung thought for a moment. “Wrap your free hand around it. Now take the picture.” He said. “Your hands and nails are pretty. It’ll make the picture look nice.” He added.

“Your cock is pretty on its own.” You mumbled, not even realizing you’d said it out loud until you heard Taehyung chuckle and call you silly then cute.

“Just take the picture baby so we can get back to you.”

You do what he told you to do and wrap your hand around his length then take the picture.

“Like this?” You looked up.

Taehyung swore under his breath. “Give me the camera back.” He demanded and snatched it from your hand. Worried you did something wrong you ask but all Taehyung does is give you a shush. “Look up at me again.”

Click.

“Fuck, you’re a natural baby.”

“I thought I did something wrong.”

“You could never do anything wrong.”

You smiled.

“Can I suck your dick now?” You questioned bluntly. Your hand was still wrapped around it, it was right in your face, and the final task to complete was getting it in your mouth.

“Can I take pictures of you sucking my dick?” Taehyung stuck out his bottom lip. “Please, it would be so hot.”

“Your luck you’re the birthday boy.”

Taehyung let out a small cheer and so did you internally. Not because of the pictures but because you were finally being allowed to do the one thing you’d wanted from the moment Taehyung pulled down his pants. It was funny. Before Taehyung you’d never sucked a dick and now you couldn’t get enough.

Starting off easy, you give a few small kitten licks at the tip. A faint groan escapes from between Taehyungs lips. He was good at self-control but you knew he was thrilled to finally have your mouth on him. Pulling away ever so slightly, you spit a little into your palm wrapping it as much as you can around his length, then cover the head with your pillowy lips.

You alternate between suckling on the tip and dragging your soft wet tongue down his cock to his balls sucking on them too, the camera’s clicks and Taehyung’s groans serving as your cheerleaders. You move back up to the tip, peppering it with kisses with a giggle. Taehyung catches it at the perfect moment when your tongue darts out flicking at the slit. Whisper-like moans escaping your mouth as you collect the small bead of precum that insisted on spurting out.

The camera damn near falls out of his hands when he sees what your other hand is doing. Your touching yourself. Pretty fingers in your lace panties, rubbing against your clit. You looked so hot. Watching you play with yourself was enough to make him want to bust right there.

Taehyung drops his hand to your shoulder and gently pushes you away. When his cock falls from your mouth you look up with wide disappointed eyes.

You loved sucking his dick and he loved doing anything with and to you. The both of you were a match made in heaven.

“Let me sit on the bed.” He breathes. You were sucking the literal soul out of him. He needed a seat for this.

As soon as he plops down and before he can lay back your mouth is already back on him. This time instead of licking and pumping at his shaft you go straight for it and stuff as much of the length as you can into your mouth.

Taehyung is trying his hardest to capture everything. Praying that the little button on the camera doesn’t break from how quickly and aggressively he is pressing down on it.

From the drool and cum spilling out to the way your eyes squeeze shut as you try to bury his cock down your throat Taehyung doesn’t want to miss any of it. God, he wished he could get a picture of you playing with your cunt.

Next time. He promises himself.

Next time he would get pictures of you doing so much. Touching yourself, sucking his dick, bouncing on his cock. Maybe even a video too.

Taehyung lets out a whine as the two of you make eye contact again. Eyes wet with tears, wide, you look so innocent but just like a little whore in the same breath. It was crazy.

“Baby, pull away.” He groaned. You shook in protest, your head with his cock still lodged in your mouth. “Gonna, come...want it -fuck- want it on your face.” Taehyung choked out.

You didn’t release him right away but when you did it was perfect timing because as soon as his cock came from your mouth he immediately was releasing onto your face.

You come with him too. Rubbing quickly at your clit, as high-pitched moans and Taehyung’s name fell from your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” Taehyung cursed. He swore he sees stars for a brief moment.

When he finally opened back up his eyes the first thing Taehyung sees is you with a big smile proud smile on your face.

“Happy Birthday Tae~”

That is the final picture he captures. You smiling, his cum all over your face. It was a happy birthday indeed.

#kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fic #drabble requests #taehyung drabble #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you

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sombreboy · 4 years ago

Text

Split↬snakehybrid!pjm

⤍18+ ⤍pairing: snakehybrid!pjm x female reader ⤍genre: pwp smut, hybrid, fluff ⤍word count: 3.9k ⤍warnings: profanity, jimin has a cute hiss/lisp, neither is sub or dom in this but jimin is pretty whiny and soft but so is y/n haha ig they’re just whiny for eachother, blowjob, pussy eating with that dextrous split tongue, light breathplay, Jimin has two BIG cocks im not even sorry for this one, double penetration (yes it anatomically works in this world we’re all monsterfuckers here), double creampie? is it even called creampie in the ass too...Just, a lot of cum, biting, mentions of blood, fluffy ending. A/N: Enjoy this surprise. I know many of you wanted this. I worked really hard on it, so please praise me with your love. As always, thank you for reading my filth. xoxo

“Jimin? What are you doing--”

You were unable to finish your sentence before his pillowy lips found purchase on yours, hungrily devouring your mouth with a newfound aggression that contrasted his normally sweet, gentle behavior. A whimper escaped your throat that the snake hybrid gladly swallowed, a rumbling groan erupting in the core of his chest in response to his favorite sound.

He pulled back momentarily, his hot breath fanning your face as it lingered close. Those intense eyes were staring straight through you like scorching razorblades, pupils shrunk into thin slits of focus. He only had eyes for you, you, you in this very moment-- and there was only one thing he desired. And you knew exactly what it was, and just the thought of what he seemed to have in mind had your body immediately reacting accordingly, heating up several degrees until your skin felt flushed hot.

Jimin was sensitive to changes in temperature, and loved how he was able to trigger your flesh to heat up for him like his own personal source of warmth. But nothing compared to the comforting, maddening heat beneath your skin.

“Baby… You know exactly what I’m doing.” He murmurs against the skin of your jawline, smoothing the button of his nose down your neck until he inhales deeply to take in your scent. You smelled so divine, mixed with his own since he’d claimed you as his mate for the first time. “Wanna play with you.”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate, your body was already more than ready, responding to his every graceful movement against your body. His hands gently smoothed down your curves, snaking beneath your shirt to caress your stomach while he took advantage of the towering force of his body to guide your steps backwards towards the bed. You complied, naturally submissive to his ministrations as you allowed him to place you on the bed, sitting on the edge with your palms flat on the soft duvet. He stood in front of you, between your spread legs while gazing down at you. He tugs your shirt up and off your torso, tossing it to the floor without even blinking to avoid missing a single second of seeing you.

“You’re so pretty.” You look up at him with admirations swirling in your eyes. Without thinking, your hands settle on his clothed thighs, running them up his firm muscles until you reach the waistline of his pants, curling your fingers around it to gently tug downwards-- signaling that you want to free the hardening bulge from the cage of fabric. “Wanna play with you too.”

Jimin’s forked tongue slipped out his slightly parted lips, swiping them across the delicate, pillowy skin until a layer of his spit served as a natural gloss, only adding to his unfair beauty. His pupils dilated significantly the second you gasp when you visibly see his cocks twitch through the clothing-- always amazed by his hybrid-like assets.

“Yeah, okay... A little-- You know I get impatient…” Jimin wasn’t blessed with patience, often greedy to get straight to the point of what he desired. But the look in your eyes made him want to give you the world. He couldn’t do that, though, but what he could do was to give you himself.

“I know, Jimin. You can’t help it.” He really couldn’t. When he gets excited, he loses control, the predatory part of his hybrid self taking over almost completely. However, that was exactly what you wanted..

You slowly pulled his pants down together with his underwear, flinching when his cocks sprung free in front of your face. You’re practically foaming at the mouth already, seeing how the swollen tips are glistening with beads of precum, waiting for you to indulge in his sinful flesh. So you did, grasping both in your hands, slowly stroking them from the get go with little to no patience yourself.

He was already hard in your hands, the velvety skin radiating heat. Jimin whined quietly in annoyance, rutting his hips forward to press his girths closer to your mouth-- you got the hint. You parted your lips, taking one of his cocks into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head before diving forward to take it all. You’ve done it countless times before, but every single time the tip of his turgid length prodded the back of your throat, he moans out loud. It’s one of his favorite things, how you’re able to take him so deep until there’s no more space for him to keep pushing.

“Fuck, that feels good, baby... “ Jimin’s tongue lisps lightly around the ‘S’, hissing out his cursed praises. His free hand grasps his untouched cock beneath the one currently buried down your throat, stroking himself simultaneously to the rhythm you quickly found as you sucked him off. His other hand strokes your hair, his delicate, ring-clad fingers brushing your curls behind your ears to see your face better. His hips begin to rut forward to meet your mouths as it comes down on him, watching your lips stretch around his girth with every drag back and forth, back and forth, the skin of his length wetter with each repeated action.

The praise has your cheeks rosy, beaming with pride at how easily he was falling apart just because of your mouth. However, his faux submission didn’t last long until he decided it was your turn to crumble beneath him. He gently grasped your hair into his fist, pulling you back until his length is stripped from the warmth of your wet mouth, a thick string of saliva dripping down your chin.

You look up at him once more, this time feeling your cunt throb when you make eye contact with the predatory stare that came from above, tunnel visioned on you, and you only. He never lied to you when he said his patience was practically nonexistent.

“That’s enough, baby. Take your clothess off…” he lisps endearingly, biting down on his lower lip when you don’t waste time to obey his commands. Your shirt was already off with his assistance, and you threw the bra to join the fabrics on the floor. Laying down on your back, you wiggle your hips while pulling down your pants, eyes never wavering from his. Your snake-like movements mesmerized even him. The prey taunted the predator.

“Moving like that, you drive me crazy… sshit..” Jimin groans, his hand stroking both cocks to the view below him of you stripping down to just your panties. You lift your legs up, taking off the pants completely to toss them away into any direction-- it didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was how riled up Jimin was while watching you, his wet cocks gliding against one another as he kept them in his firm grasp, slick sounds striking the room. His hissing got louder between grunts, and eventually he whines when he stops touching himself, instead coaxing you to move up towards the headboard of the bed to give him space to crawl between your spread legs, still hidden by the thin, soaked panties that you intentionally left on, knowing he loved to see the cotton stick to your cunt like a second layer of skin.

“J-Jimin…” You whine when he leans in between your legs, his hot breath fanning your clothed pussy as his darkened gaze flickers up to meet yours. His lips tug into a teasing smirk, showcasing his pointed fangs that you were so fond of-- for various reasons. His split tongue snakes out from his parted lips, giving your wet panties a long, slow drag from the bottom up to your clit. His moan vibrates in his chest at how he could taste and smell you through his taste buds, the sweet and tangy essence he couldn’t wait to soak his tongue in.

“Lovely.” Jimin praised yet again, smoothing the pads of his finger down your slit, feeling the heated skin beneath the panties. He slowly stroked his fingers up and down a few times before tugging at the thin fabrics, catching it between his fangs to rip it off with one smooth motion of his razor sharp teeth. You exhale audibly at the sight, hands curling up against the sheets to grab a fistful in anticipation-- you know exactly what you’re in for, and just knowing had your body shuddering from the thrill. Only one man could make you feel this riled up with so little, he hadn’t even begun to properly play with you.. yet.

“P-please, it’s torture…” You whine, knowing all too well which ones of his buttons to push. Begging, whining-- he’d be a puddle that obliged to your wishes within a heartbeat, playing it off as his own greed. He’s domineering, and thrives through the power he possesses over you, sure-- but that didn’t mean he was immune to your pleading, sweet voice. It drove him mad, and if patience could go minus on a scale, his was dropping with every shaky breath that escaped your lips.

“Now who’s impatient..” Jimin teased, giving in to your pleas nonetheless. He understood the feeling better than anybody, and he saw no reason in dragging out the torture any longer than necessary, for the sake of you both. He gets comfortable between your legs, properly situated to finally allow his pillowy lips to kiss your clit softly, drawing another breathy whimper from your pretty throat, watching your chest shudder. He lets his split tongue slip past his parted lips, licking up the wet arousal that had seeped from your cunt, his hot breath hitting your skin as he exhales in rapture. He loved eating you out, and it was of no surprise that you loved it just as much-- his tongue was skilled, and perfectly shaped to give it a unique feeling compared to what a normal, human tongue could do.

Jimin said nothing from then on, but simply allowed his ministrations to speak for him. His dexterous tongue lapped at your dripping entrance, slowly, but not too slow to make it unbearable. He licked upwards stripes, his own drool mixing with the continuous essence that leaked out with every sweet constriction he coaxed from you when his moans vibrated against your pussy.

“You taste sso good, baby.” He sighs blissfully, inching even closer. The wet sounds his mouth made was sinful, alternating between licking and sucking lightly with his plushy, glossy lips. You were squirming above him, arching your back as your hands searched for his golden locks, tangling your fingers into his roots before tugging, pushing him closer to your core for more friction.

“H-harder-- make me cum, Jimin, ah…” You whimper, gritting your teeth in frustration-- you wanted more, more, more, greedy for him to please you further. He whines when you tug at his hair, but allowed you either way to control him. His lips found your clit, sucking at it tastefully, swirling his forked tongue around it to properly give you the attention you craved. His hands were tightly grabbing at your thighs, keeping your moving body in place as he picked up the pace when you kept tugging at his roots, spurring the aggression in him. The pain you caused him made him go harder-- so you closed your fist, pulling harder, and as you anticipated, his mouth treated you rougher.

“G-god, yes-- just like that, so good, I’ll c-cum.. Fuc-k!” Your throaty moans were like music to his ears, but he could only hear the muffled version of it as your fleshy thighs were pinning him in place, pushing against his ears. He could practically hear your heartbeat in your thighs, the warmth comforting and maddening to his senses, your throbbing, swollen clit impossibly hard in his mouth as he kept abusing it with his tongue. He rutted against the bed, his cocks leaking profusely with precum from how desperate you were to cum-- and it made him feel the desperation right on his tongue, both tasting and smelling your impending orgasm.

Your harsh grasp in his blonde curls didn’t cease, but increased the second his wet, skilled tongue flicked over your clit harder, coaxing your orgasm more and more until finally, it hits you like a tidal wave, drowning you in blinding rapture. Your back arched, your insides pulsating in a rhythmical pattern, every throb causing your body to twitch, and your silent cries only came out as gasps. Jimin pulled through, unable to breathe for a mere few seconds, still keeping his split tongue wrapped around your clit, feeling the way it pulsated against his lips. His muffled moan was more than enough for you to know he loved this just as much, but the moment he tapped your thigh you quickly let go of him so he could pull back and gasp for air.

“Ah, I’m s-sorry…” You half laugh, half whine, your dewy skin glistening with sweat, chest moving up and down with every shaky, heavy breath. You look down at his black stare, admiring you as if you were his entire universe. And to him, you are, no doubt.

“Don’t be. I loved it-- sso pretty... Sso hot…” Jimin huffed, giving your soaked entrance one last lick, gathering your essence on his tongue before slipping his tongue back into his mouth, savoring the taste. “Mmm... You’re sso delicious, baby.”

“Gah.. D-don’t say that, it’s embarrassing.” You hid your face in your palms, face flushed with embarrassment and the lingering arousal in your body. You felt him get up from his position, crawling on top of your body to kiss your hands that covered your face. Slowly, you removed them to peek at him, only to see his pearly, sharp smile, eyes squinted into the most beautiful crescent moons.

“You’re too cute. How can you act so innocent after using my mouth like that?” Jimin cooed, leaning back in to kiss your lips. It tasted like you, but you didn’t mind-- because it was living proof that he’d just indulged in his favorite treat.

Well, one of his favorite treats.

Jimin sat back up on his knees, his cocks standing tall and needy for any attention whatsoever at this point. He’d been so patient after all, putting effort into making you feel so good. Now that you’re soaked, both his mouth and swollen heads of his lengths were dripping with desperation to finally fuck you.

“Baby?” Jimin’s soothing voice was like a siren’s song, impossible to ignore-- absolutely impossible to say no to.

“Yes?”

“Ride me, please?” His eyelashes fluttered, flirting his way through your heart to get what he desired. And it worked--- obviously. He wouldn’t even have to ask this nicely. He treated you well, so you wanted to give it right back.

You nod, moving to the side to let him take your previous place, laying on his back. He propped himself up a little with a few pillows, reaching for your body with a pout when he felt cold without the warmth that is you.

“You’re still the more impatient one.” You giggle as you straddle him, lifting your hips up above his cock. He watched with wide eyes, nodding in agreement to whatever you said at this point-- all he could think about was to fill you up.

“Yeah, yeah.” He murmured, guiding your hips down slowly to sink down on one of his cocks, the other left untouched, sandwiched between the fleshy cheeks of your ass. His cocks were wet, easily providing a pleasant glide against your skin.

“I really want to be able to fill you with both this time…” Jimin confessed while he swallowed tightly, fangs clamping down on his lower lip as he pushed you down further to take his entire length in your warm insides. His cocks throbbed, one in you and one against your ass, a heavy exhale slipped past his lips in bliss. “So fuckin’ goood to me, shit… Rock your hipss, baby, use me.”

“God, you’re so pretty Jimin…” You praised him right back, feeling his cock pulsate with every sweet word coming from you. He loved it when you called him pretty in various ways. Rocking your hips back and forth, his cock grinds deeply inside of you, causing yourself to moan from using him to please yourself. “And s-so big, fuck..”

“I know.” Jimin crooked a playful eyebrow at you, but just as quickly his shit eating grin was wiped off when you spit in your palm, hand snaked behind your back to stroke the cock that wasn’t already wrapped in your heat. “Ahh, yes.. Touch it-- touch it more…” He whined, his hands grabbing your thighs to coax you to rock your hips harder. You did so, all while teasing the wet head of his free length.

“Want to fill both my holes with your pretty cocks, Jimin?” You said sweetly, already knowing the answer. His hips bucked upwards in response, his hissed curses spurring your growing confidence. You slowed your movements, guiding the drenched tip to prod at your ass. Slowly, you teased your tight rim until you could comfortably slip it inside, carefully allowing him to fill you up to the brim with both of his blessed, turgid lengths. You gasped again, overwhelmed by how full you felt, so complete.. “O-oh my god....”

“Yes, yeah, fuck yess..” Jimin screwed his eyes shut for a moment, stilling his movements for your sake, wanting you to decide when it’s time to move. He knew it’d be a lot, and he’s so proud of you for taking both his cocks at once-- such a fucking good girl for him. “Tight, isn’t it? Take it easy..”

“Yeah, you’re big, Jimin…Unf..” You place your palms flat down on his toned abdomen, breathing steadily to relax your muscles. The two of you truly felt each other then, his flesh filling you up in such a completing way that he’d never done before. Your warm insides hugging him snugly, comforting him in every sense of the word-- he felt at ease, like this is where he belonged all along.

You began to move when you felt ready, grinding your hips against him, feeling the twitching of his needy cocks inside of you with every movement-- not a single moment went unnoticed by him, every breath and whine that slipped past your lips was pure bliss. You picked up the pace a bit, rocking faster on him, growing greedier with every low curse, hiss and moan that pushed past his bit swollen lips, his blunt nails digging into your thighs.

“D-don’t go too fast, I’ll cum…” He whined, licking his sharp fangs as he stared at the way your body jiggled on top of him. His hips rutted upwards, changing the rocking motion into an up and down bounce, causing you to moan out in pleasure when his cocks abused the thin wall of flesh separating his lengths, grinding against one another.

“M-maybe I want you to..” You breathe out, your voice nowhere as coy as you had imagined it to be-- it was impossible to tease when he brushed against every inch of your sensitive insides, the sweet stretch driving you mad. But on the other hand, you could tell he’s the one who was falling apart underneath you, the common tick of his where he continuously swiped his tongue over his sharp fangs, a known quirk of his when he’s desperately trying to control his impending orgasm by feeling the sting of his teeth. “Want you to fill me up so well. Help me, fuck me harder. I c-can’t by myself.”

“Mhm.” Jimin’s nails had dragged down your thighs countless times at this point, coaxing red welts to form in his rake. He smoothed his palms up your body, digging his digits into your hips to get a proper hold of you, aiding in your bouncing motion, allowing you to plunge down on his cocks harder to meet his bucking hips, forcing the slapping sound of skin to skin to grow more prominent in the room. “Oh, baby, I swear… I’ll cum, ah…”

Those few, sweet words spoken in his lustful, canary voice was all you needed to feel a rush of energy pump through your veins, adamant to make him cum just as good as he made you. Your fingers curled on the skin of his stomach, light scratches forming on his milky tone as you bounced on his cocks harder, faster, deeper-- the shameless wet smacking sounds driving you both towards lustful madness. His split tongue continuously swiped over his teeth, lips, biting down hard on his pillowy, delicate skin. His teeth itched to bite down on something, the scorching heat pooling in his abdomen creeping up on him faster than ever before.

“B-baby-- Wanna bite.” Jimin pleaded, but it wasn’t a command. The biting wasn’t your favorite, he knew this, but he felt desperate. It was his way of marking you, claiming you-- to show you he loved you and you only during a time like this. “I promise I’ll be g-gentle, please.. I’m cumming, fuc-k!”

You didn’t hesitate, wordlessly leaning forward to offer him your neck, all while his tight grasp moved to your ass, forcing you down over and over on his lengths. His lips immediately kiss down your neck, searching for his favorite spot in the slope where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips curl up as his fangs came into view, not wasting a second of this given opportunity to let them sink into your soft skin. Your body tensed up, holes constricting around his lengths, just the way he anticipated--and had hoped for. He kept fucking up into you, hissing as his razor-like fangs chomp down your neck, savoring the throaty cries that pushed past your lips.

“O-oh, ow, shit-- fuck! Jimin, ahh… F-feels good.” You reassured him, knowing that although his primal instincts took over the second his fangs bit into you, one of his hands soothingly ran up and down your waist as the other remained tight, fucking you down on him. However, it only took a few more punishing thrusts before he pushed you down once more, but this time keeping you still, emptying himself into both of your holes. His body tensed up, hips stuttering as he hissed out, lips curled up as he bit down harder. This is where he’s the most lost in his hybrid part of himself, mating you like it’s the first time, although it’s far from it.

“D-doing so well, Jimin…” You praised as you felt his body relax slowly, cocks pulsating as hot cum gushed out into the tight space, already seeping out from the lack of anywhere else to go. His hands is the first indication that he’d come back down to reality, smoothing down your back and pulling you close to his body. Lastly, he unhinged his jaw and let go, licking his bloody fangs clean before holding you close, still lodged deep inside of you with no intention of removing you from this position just yet.

“Thank you, baby.” Jimin stroked your back, nuzzling his nose into your hair to coax you to look up at him. When you did, he smiled. The familiar, pearly smile that caused his eyes to form into this lovely squint that had your heart fluttering. “I love you.”

This man was really made out of sugar, spice and everything nice.

#Fic: split #Jimin smut #Park Jimin smut #snake jimin #snake hybrid jimin #hybrid jimin #bts hybrid smut #hybrid bts #jimin x you #jimin x reader #jimin x female reader #jimin x y/n #bts smut #park jimin hybrid #snake hybrid smut #sombreboy

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octania · 4 years ago

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DICKCANONS for Sukuna

+ KINKY EXTENSIONS

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: NSFW, dirty talk, over stimulation, hardcore, oral.

Short description: How I HC our beloved Sukuna. His dickcanons,few fetishes, favorite pet name....a little bundle of NSFW.

This ruthless, loud hunk has a reason to be cocky, when his is patently waiting to show you that his curses are not the only thing that can wrack you. His thick, delicious lollipop is 9.1 inches long, so he will be hitting the entrance of your womb by only sensually sliding in. But that is not his style, no. No gentle movement will be made by this sexy monster, as he sure will leave a mark by also stretching your slink walls with his girth that is 8′ hot meat filling you to the brim, making it hard to even stay conscious.

However, don’t you worry your pretty head, he has his ways to make you stay awake. One of them is sliding that heavy erected cock along your folds, collecting every drop of your wetness and smearing it around your heated hole. He is a teaser, and a dirty talker. He will press his tip inside you just so he can hear your soft whines and begs, smirking while he slaps your already overstimulated clit from his rubs, pulling back out and making circular motions around your nerve bundle. “This is for my pleasure only, got it?” 🖤 ”Is that tears from frustration I see, sugar? What that cock inside you? But I want to tease you, so shut up and spread your legs more.” 🖤 “Be a good girl while I do my worst on you, and you better say *Thank you, Sukuna.* after it.”🖤 - are just some of his filthy instructions he would give you, because he gets even more creative when it is time to ravage you. You will be blushing when that dirty mouth is not only sucking and biting your sensitive nipples, but growling his dirt along your skin to remind you just how much he enjoys doing this nasty things to you...and knows you enjoy it too.

ORAL:

Sukuna is a face fucker, so better be ready to open wide and relax that throat, because once his thick dick slides along that soft muscle of yours and hits the back of your throat, it ain’t coming out that fast.

He will use his power and dominance, pulling you by the hair to get you on your knees, first sliding his fingers in your mouth, pumping them to the last knuckle, getting hard on the wet sounds of your saliva between his fingers.

He likes to pull your tongue out, pinching it slowly as your lewd face is a priceless scene for him. His eyes fixated on your plump lips while he gives his length a few experimental pumps before placing it between those soft cushions, brushing his swollen tip along them, smearing his precum, then pulling your hair back and making you tilt your head. “Clean it, now.”- he orders as you suck on your lips to get all of his seed off, then as a obedient whore you lick along his cock, sucking on the tip because that is one of his favorite things. He loves to feel the pressure of your lips on his sensitive head, along with biting him lightly, gently, just enough to make him roar and grab your head once more, slamming his cock in your mouth all the way to the base. “You better breathe through you nose, sugar, I ain’t planning on stopping soon.”

He is a teaser and will deepen your *torment* as much as possible, so be ready for him to grab your panties and pull them up, making the fabric sink to your sex while he keeps pulling it, making it to irritate your sensitive sport while you choke on his cock. He knows it turns you on, he can see the wet stains on your panties, but that will not stop him from checking it. After he had enough of the fabric , he will pull it so hard they will break, exposing your dripping sex to him, and he will not work you up step by step, no, he will push three fingers at once, forcefully, mercilessly, as you cry out around his heavy meat still buried deep inside your throat. “If you can make sounds, that means your mouth is not full enough.”- he would growl as he grabs your jaw tightly, pushing faster, deeper, harder inside your mouth as you stare at him with red cheeks and teary eyes, trying to swallow all that precum that just wont stop dripping. But it is hard to concentrate when he is abusing your needy hole to the point where your body shivers with pleasure and your orgasm will not save you, he will continue, over and over, until he thinks it is enough and you are lying on the floor, gasping for air with his cum dripping from your lips. But guess what? He still expects that *Thank you, Sukuna.* after all of your hard work.

Better believe is a 69 kind of guy. Oh yes, he is gripping your on the sides of your hips and lifting you up like you weight nothing at all, placing you right on his handsome face. But don’t expect slow, sensual licking, he will have his fun with you.

Sukuna is a biter. He will leave swollen, redish bites on your inner thighs, and while your mouth is once again stuffed with his stiff dick, he will bite just next to your wet pussy, licking the abused parts and placing kisses on it, knowing how it drives you insane.

You know he is smirking, you can feel his white porcelain teeth pressed against your skin as you beg, sucking him off, and he keeps provoking you, torturing you, in the end licking your pussy lips and sides of your entrance, “drying” you off but making sure your clit just keeps pulsating with need, not touching it at all.

Only when he is filling your mouth with his pearly cum, he will start giving your some mercy. If you can call it that. He will stick his tongue inside you, pumping it in along your bumpy walls, as his calloused thumb pressed your clit and rubs it aggressively.

He will not stop after you reached your sweet release, he wants you squirming and whining with exhaustion, so a few more orgasms are in order, as he switches his big, wide hands from your clit, and sticks his fingers inside you, spreading them as he stretches your cunt to the point where you scream his name over and over, and only drive him more mad, more in need to see you *suffer*, as he sucks on your clit, making you drip along his chin and to his strong neck, over and over again.

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna x reader #Jjk #jjk sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you

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shydreamerwitch · 4 years ago

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Baby I’m Jealous

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex (Don’t be silly wrap your willy), angst, Oral (M! receiving), Spanking, Hairpulling.

A/N: Sorry guys, I deleted the original one because for whatever reason Tumblr is being a dick.

You can feel Namjoon’s glare on the side of your head. You’re purposefully ignoring him, hoping it’s making him squirm. You both are attending an event at the Big Hit Building. You're obviously his plus one. At least that's what you thought, but when you both entered the party Namjoon’s attention was immediately taken from you by one of the stylists that works for him. You were okay with waiting for the conversation to end, but with the way her hand was glued to his arm and the way his eyes never left hers you decided it would just be better to entertain yourself. You would never tell him you were jealous, because he was yours, you had nothing to be jealous of. Right? Her high pitched giggle rang out in the air and you could see him laughing with her, which is what led you here, next to Jimin, your own laughter combating with hers, and Namjoon burning a hole in your head. Seems like he wasn't laughing anymore. You’re truly enjoying talking with Jimin, the both of you got along almost as soon as you had met over a year ago. You could easily say he is one of your best friends. “Uh Y/N, I think Namjoon-hyung is about to blow a gasket. If he clenches his jaw anymore it might shatter.” Jimin states worriedly. “Jimin, as much as I love how worried you are about him and his jaw, this is what he gets for ignoring me.” You and Jimin never really hide anything from each other, always open and honest. So when you first walked up to him and told him what was going on, he agreed to keep you company. “He’s walking over. I’m gonna die, he’s going to kill me Y/N. You should see his fa- Hyung! How are you doing? I see you were having a lovely conversation.” You refused to look up at him, but if Jimin’s face is any indication, you know he’s pissed. “Jimin-ssi. I’m fine. Seems like you and Y/N are having enough fun over here for everyone.” He is seething. You don't need to look with the way he shoots his words out, completely dripping with passive aggressiveness. You couldn't lie, knowing he’s angry at you turns you on. Very much. You were a brat, so what about it? “We were having so much fun when you decided to interrupt with your bad attitude. Why don't you go back to talk to your stylist noona, hmm?” You shoot back at him. He wanted to be petty, you could be worse. He scoffs at you. You feel him get closer to you, “You're kidding yeah? Is someone jealous?” He whispers in your ear. “I don't know Namjoon, are you?” You throw back at him. You are in no mood for this back and forth. Jimin who is there the whole time watching the two of you bicker finally decides to make an exit. “So I will let the two of you figure, whatever this is, out. I’ll text you later Y/N'' As he walks away you feel Namjoon grab your waist. Finally making eye contact with him you can see just how angry he is. “You done being a brat?” He has the audacity to call you a brat? “ Are you joking? Why am I the brat? You completely ignored me and then made our friend uncomfortable because you wanted to beat on your chest! So if anyone is the brat here, it’s you.” Namjoon clenches his jaw.

He pulls you out of the event space and toward the elevators. My god, you can feel the heat radiating off of him as you both stand in the elevator saying nothing to each other. You shouldn't be so excited, but there was something about pissing him off that turned you on. The elevator opens up on the floor of his studio, Namjoon grabs your wrist and brings you toward his studio door. “Sit.” Is all he says when you enter the studio. You don't comply, instead choosing to stand in the middle of the room. “I wasn’t asking Y/N.” You roll your eyes at him. “ No, you don't get to command shit when you were being a dick downstairs.” Calling him out of his name may have been too much, but at this point you don't care. He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Was I acting like a dick? Was I not being polite? Or Did you just get jealous, and decided to be petty by using Jimin as a tactic in your silly game? Thought I wouldn’t guess your silly game? We’ve been together too long for that Y/N.” He let go of your face and began pacing. You watch him move back and forth, just knowing he was thinking of a way to punish you. “We can talk about this, later. Right now, I want you on your knees. Now.” You are pent up, you already knew your behavior was going to set him off. You sink to your knees in front of him.Your dress riding up once you hit the ground. “Take it off. I want to see what you have underneath, princess.” You grab the hem of your dress, lifting it up slowly. You relish in the way Namjoon groans at every inch of exposed skin he sees. You wear his favorite red lace bra and panty set. Tonight was supposed to be special in a different way, but you are more than willing to take this impromptu session. “Oh baby. You look stunning here on your knees like a good girl. Why couldn’t you have been this good downstairs?” He moves towards you, squatting to your level. He places a kiss on your mouth before standing again. He maintains eye contact with you as he unzips his dress pants and pulls his cock out. Your mouth begins to water at the sight of it, tip an angry red, precum already leaking. “Like what you see? Open. Tongue out.” He says while he taps his tip on your appendage. You keep your mouth open, anticipating his next move. He gently slides his cock into your mouth, releasing a groan when you wrap your warm mouth around him, allowing him to go as far as he can. Once your nose hits his soft brush of hairs, and you can feel him at the back of your throat, he pulls back out. “Fuck Y/N your mouth is so good.” He praises. You say nothing waiting for him to take control. “I’m not going to hold back this time. So I suggest you get your pretty little mouth ready for a serious fucking.” He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail in one hand and his cock in the other. He shoves himself into your mouth this time much rougher than the first time keeping his promise of not holding back. You begin to drool as his pace quickens, tears burning your eyes. You look up at him, his face in a state of euphoria. “Yes, what a good little brat you are. Seems like the only way to shut you up is to shove my cock into your mouth.” You moan around him. Suddenly he stops thrusting, pulling out of your mouth. “As much as I really want to see my cum all over your face, I want that pussy just a little bit more. Get up.” He helps you up and leads you to the couch. He bends you over, landing one slap on your ass. You moan out as your ass begins to sting. “You like that? You like when I spank you? You dirty girl.” At this point your underwear was sticking to you uncomfortably. Namjoon rubs his fingers over your covered slit. “Namjoon please. Don’t tease.” You beg. “Y/N please. Stop talking.” He retorts. You let out a growl of frustration. “Nam-Ah!” Your complaint dying on your lips as Namjoon moves your panties aside and shoves two fingers into you. “Fuck! Yes sir. Thank you.” You hear Namjoon laugh. “There’s my obedient girl.” He scissors his fingers into you at a rapid pace. His other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair. He turns your head to the side to look at him. “You like that? Like how I fuck this cunt with just my fingers?” You can barely comprehend what he's saying to you with how close you are to your orgasm. “Yes sir. I love it!” You scream. You're so close, just a few more thrusts, when Namjoon suddenly pulls his fingers away. It takes everything in you not to scream out in frustration. “Hmm, look who’s finally quiet.” Namjoon teases as he rubs his cock up and down your soaked folds. He allows his tip to breach your entrance. You hold your breath in anticipation, you were so close to being filled with him. Once you feel Namjoon fill you completely you let out a sigh of content. “My god. So good for me.” He praises as he shallowly thrust into you. “Yes sir. I just want to be good for you.” You cry, hoping he’ll move faster. “You weren't very good downstairs were you?” Namjoon says as he thrusts harshly into you. You let out a moan. “I’m sorry sir. I was jealous. I just wanted your attention.” You could hear him laugh behind you. “Baby girl. Fuck. You know you’re the only one who always has my attention.” His thrust began to pick up in speed. Namjoon pulls out of you to lay you on the couch in the studio. He climbs on top of you re-entering into you. You moan out and look at him. You both maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. The way he’s looking at you has you feeling warm, any feelings of anger between the two of you now gone. There are no more words exchanged. Just the sounds of you both moaning, and skin slapping on skin. Namjoon slides his hand in between the both of you and begins to rub your clit. After being denied before you can feel your orgasm creeping up on you. “Joonie. I’m close. Please.” He nods at you, “So am I baby.” His thrusts become sloppier the closer he gets to releasing. You wrap your legs around his waist. You feel your orgasm approach and before you can say anything Namjoon is pressing his lips onto yours suppressing any noises you were going to make. After a few more thrusts you can feel him spill into you with a moan of your name. Without removing himself from inside you, he switches positions so you're laying on top of him. He’s brushing any stray hair out of your face, before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You know I love you more than anything right?” He asks looking at you. You nod. “Yes, I know. I love you more than anything too. I just let my emotions get the best of me. The way she was touching you just made me so mad. I’m really sorry I didn’t just talk to you about it initially. But I’m not mad at the resolution.” He chuckles. “The sex was not the resolution jagi. It was just a quick respite from this conversation. I do wish you would have spoken to me, but maybe I should have handled the situation better. I’m sorry as well babe. Next time we can handle it better.” He said rubbing his arms up and down your arms. “Yes, conversations first.” You share another kiss before cleaning up and putting your clothes back on. You fix your hair to the best of your abilities, but a down do would be the way the night would be ending. You both go to exit the studio, but when Namjoon opens the door Jimin and Taehyung both stumble in. “Jimin and I were just making sure you weren’t fighting anymore. And before you ask. Of course he told me.” You both rolled your eyes at them. “So, did you fix whatever it was?” Jimin asks as you all walk back to the party.

#namjoon smut #bts smut

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tomurasprincess · 4 years ago

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Lady in Waiting (Kirishima x Reader)

Pairing: Kirishima x Reader Rating: Explicit + Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: Dubcon, glory holes, blowjob, rough sex, spanking, degradation, stalking, yandere Notes: This is another BNHarem collab! Theme for this one was glory holes, and the masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check all of the other fics out, and give them some love! This prompt was a lot of dirty fun, so I hope everyone enjoys.

You wait around a minute or so before heading to the door to try the doorknob. Locked, just as you thought. There really was no getting out of this now, a thought that actually comforts you more than scares you. Just do the job and then you’re set. It won’t be so bad.

You reach over to grab the cushions and arrange them around the glory hole itself. No reason for you to be uncomfortable, you think to yourself before you settle yourself down on the floor. You have no watch, so there’s no way of telling how much longer you have to wait. The anticipation is making you nervous, causing you to squirm in place as you resist taking a peek through the hole.

Finally, you hear rustling on the other side as someone makes their way up to the wall. Your first customer, you think bitterly, before shaking the thought from your mind and resolving to do what needs to be done. You expect whoever is on the other side to just stick their cock directly through with no fanfare, and are surprised when you hear an upbeat voice greeting you.

“Hey babe, you ready for this?” You’re surprised that someone in this situation would be considerate of you, but you’re infinitely grateful.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you say in a quiet voice. “Just a little nervous! I’ve umm,” you stammer a bit, “I’ve never done this before.”

“You and me both,” the voice laughs, but not in a mean spirited way. You hear the rustling of clothes and a zipper being drawn down, before a very impressive sized cock slides through the hole. The hole is almost not big enough to allow the action, and you hear a slight hiss as he scrapes just a bit against the opening. Whether from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell.

Using the small amount of light that’s peeking from the hole itself, you examine the stranger’s cock. It’s thick and already rock hard, with prominent veins running down the length of it, and the head of it is already red and dripping a bit with precum.

You swallow down your nervousness as you gently rub the cum up his length for lubrication, before wrapping your hand around his girth.

You hear a deep groan from behind the wall as you place kitten licks on the bulbous head of his cock, stroking the base at the same time. You go slowly at first, too nervous to be confident about your actions.

“ Yeah, that’s it babe,” you hear him say clearly through the wall. “You’re doing great, don’t stop.” And as he continues to moan, you become just a bit more comfortable as you rub his cock faster. You take the entire head into your mouth, licking along the underside of it as you continue to jerk off the part that won’t fit. Using your other hand, you reach down to cup his balls, massaging them gently with one hand.

The noises from the other side only spur you on, causing you to go lower and lower until your nose is almost pressing against the sparse hairs he has. But as you go to pull off, he thrusts up into your waiting mouth and you gag from the suddenness of it. Before you have a chance to recover, he’s snapping his hips back into your mouth, not letting up even as you try to pull away.

“Is this what you expected, you dirty little slut?” His tone is so vastly different from earlier that you would almost think it was someone else entirely. “Did you expect someone to - ahhh - face fuck you like this? I bet you did.” He makes a slight noise of pain as you accidentally graze him a bit with a tooth. “Careful now, babe,” he warns in a low voice. “Don’t use teeth or I’ll have to punish you.”

You try to relax your mouth and throat as much as possible, letting him do whatever he wants with your open mouth. You hope and pray that he’ll finish soon so that this will be over with. Until realizing this is only the first of the night, and you have hours more to go before you are truly done. But there’s no time to be upset about it yet, as he hits the back of your throat with one particularly hard movement.

You feel his cock twitch and his pace stutter, and then hot cum is shooting into the back of your throat. He allows you to pull away as you gasp and sputter for air, almost choking from the sheer volume of cum. The part that you’re not able to swallow spills out, dribbling down the corners of your mouth which you wipe away with a shirt sleeve.

You reach for one of the bottles of water, drinking deeply to try and wash the taste out of your mouth and hopefully moistening your already sore throat from the face fucking you just received. You wait for several seconds, wondering if the man is going to say anything or if he’s already left.

“You did such a good job,” he praises you. “So good that I’ll be seeing you soon,” he murmurs in such a low tone that you wonder if you misheard. You must have, because nobody but the ones hired are allowed back in these rooms. It’s strictly against the rules, a fact that makes you feel safer about this whole experience.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Finally, you think to yourself, as you hear the sound of clothes being readjusted and someone leaving the room. You didn’t expect him to take so long to get off, and your jaw was already sore from the face fucking he gave you. Despite how polite he was at the beginning, he clearly had an aggressive and dominant side to him that you certainly did not expect. You hope the rest of the men will be a bit easier on you.

Suddenly, you hear the door click open as someone steps through. Before you even have a chance to ask what’s going on, the door is shut firmly behind them as the sound of the lock clicking shut resounds through the cramped space. You try to see who has come into the room, but it’s so dark that you can’t make out any features.

“Hey, I don’t think you can be in here,” you stammer in nervousness. There is no room to maneuver, and only one way to get out. You’re trapped until whoever this is chooses to let you go or leave the room. You desperately hope that it’s simply a mistake, or someone involved with running the party.“There are rules that -”

“Oh, I’m definitely not supposed to be in here. But the rules don’t exactly apply when you’re a top pro-hero,” the man chuckles. “All I had to do was ask for a more intimate experience with you and they were falling all over themselves to grant my request.”

You panic, quickly standing up and trying for the door even as you know it’s hopeless. A fact that’s confirmed when the man easily grabs you and pushes you down face first onto the floor. “Now now, where do you think you’re going, baby? I’m not done with you.”

He tsks to himself as he rips off your dress, followed by your panties that he takes a deep sniff of before tossing them over his shoulder. “You weren’t even naked when you were sucking me off? Such a bad girl.”

“Please,” you whimper, “please don’t hurt me.”

“Aww, of course I’m not going to hurt you.” You feel two fingers run down your folds, collecting your wetness as he seeks out your clit. “I’m going to make you feel as good as you made me feel, baby.”

He finds your swollen bead quickly, rubbing tight circles across it as you try not to moan. He is clearly quite skilled at it, and you feel shocks of pleasure running through your body far quicker than normal. “I don’t want this - I don’t even know who you are!”

“Oh? But you were okay with sucking off any cock that came through that hole?” You feel a sudden sharp smack against your ass that causes you to gasp from pain and try to squirm away. Another follows, and then another, until your face is buried in the cushions in front of you with your ass stinging and tears running down your face. “Dirty little slut, feel how wet you are? You’re gushing all over my fingers just from me spanking you.”

You realize with horror that he’s right as he easily slips two fingers inside of you. He drags them across your inner walls, searching for that sensitive spot inside of you. You whine when he finally finds it, and he chuckles at your response.

“But if it makes you feel better, I’m Kirishima. Or just Kiri, if you want. Easier to scream when I’m balls deep in this tight cunt of yours.”

Before you can think of a response to that, he begins to use his entire arm to pound against that spot inside of you. You instantly see stars, clamping down on his fingers even as he adds in another one. You bury your face into a cushion to hide your gasps and moans, but he clearly isn’t having any of that. He grabs your hair and forces your back up into an arch as he continues to finger fuck you, leaning in to plant wet open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. “Does that feel good, baby?” He practically moans into your ear. “Gonna cum for me?”

A stray tear runs down your face and he laughs, licking it off your face as he coos at you. “Come on now, I just want to make you feel good. I’m nicer than any of the heroes who were going to stick their filthy cocks into your mouth. You should be more grateful,” he growls into your ear.

You wince as you feel the muscles of your stomach tightening, cunt continually clamping down around the fingers fucking you into submission. “Fuck,” you hiss out as you feel yourself right at the edge, “god, it feels - please stop, I don’t -”

“Shut up and cum for me, already. I can feel that cunt of yours clamping around my fingers like a vice, fuck baby, you are so hot like this.” The hand tangled in your hair moves to your shoulder, using his strength to slam you even harder back against his fingers. You let out a squeal as you’re finally pushed over the edge, cunt fluttering as liquid gushes out against him.

“Fuck, you’re a squirter too, you have no idea how hot that is, baby,” he praises you as he removes his fingers from your aching cunt. “You’re going to keep being a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You give an involuntary nod, hoping this means that he intends to leave. But as you hear the distinctive sound of his zipper again, you realize that this is far from over yet. You don’t even bother to try and move away as you feel the bulbous head of his cock prodding at your entrance.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper desperately. “You’re a hero, right? I know you don’t want to do this.” You fear that it’s useless, that he’s going to do what he wants anyway. But you have to try and appeal to his good side. Heroes don’t do this kind of thing, do they?

But when you hear his dark laughter, it confirms what you already know. He’s going to take you however he wants to take you. And with one quick snap of his hips, he’s fully buried to the hilt inside your tight cunt. You let out a choked scream at the pain of being filled all at once, tears sliding down your face as you try to get used to his size. Even being as wet as you are, it still badly stings.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he grunts out as he begins to move inside of you. “I do want to do this. You’re such a sweet girl, anybody could take advantage of you. There are heroes who really aren’t that nice, you know.” You whimper as he runs his hands over your sweat drenched body, nails trailing down your back as he speaks. “You should be grateful it’s me fucking you like this.”

He grabs your hips, hard enough to bruise, as he begins to slam harder into you. You’ve been forced down on your hands and knees, arms barely holding you up and breasts bouncing as his movements cause your body to jerk forward. He’s rough, incredibly rough, but every movement has the veins on his cock grinding against your sensitive walls, sending surges of pleasure through your body.

You feel the sharp pain of his hand coming down on your ass again, and an accompanying groan as you tighten around him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, “being such a good girl for me too. And good girls get gifts.”

Gifts? You can’t figure out what he means until you feel his cock twitching inside of you. Your eyes widen as you begin to plead with him. “No, please not inside, I’m begging you, please anywhere but -”

It’s too late though, as his pace stutters and he cums right against your unprotected cervix. He groans deep in the back of his throat as you feel hot ropes of cum coating your insides. You let out another choked sob as you collapse to the floor, unable to support your body weight.

Kirishima lets out a soft noise that you think is supposed to be comforting as he pulls you closer, nuzzling your neck gently. “Shh, you did so well for me.” He strokes your hair gently. “I’ll even do you a favor for this.”

You glance up at him with tired eyes, not really believing in any favor he would give you. But you still ask. “What kind of favor?”

“You’re done for the night.”

“But what about -”

“With full pay, don’t you worry about that.” He gets up off the floor as he starts getting dressed, before heading to the door. “You’re free to go. Don’t worry, I’ll get things taken care of.” And with that, he’s gone. You shakily get up and put what’s left of your clothes back on, leaving the parts he tore off of you.

You’re almost surprised when you’re able to just walk out of the mansion without anyone trying to stop you, and even more surprised when there’s a cab waiting for you.

Well, you think, that was more than what you intended. But it was worth it in order to be debt free. To be able to start over. You find yourself smiling for the first time in a long while.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kirishima quickly answers the phone call that he’s been waiting for. “Yeah? Do you have her address? You do? Good. Yeah, I have pen and paper.” He scribbles down an exact address before thanking the cab driver and getting off the phone. Money really could buy anything, he chuckles to himself.

He stares down at the note he’s holding, other hand tucked in his pants pocket where the panties he stole from you reside. As soon as he left you in that room, he realized how stupid he was. He had been telling the truth when he said anyone could and would take advantage of that innocence. That was made evident just from the fact that a girl like you was at a party like this.

It’s clear that you’re naive and shouldn’t be left alone, Kirishima thinks. Not all heroes are as nice as he is, after all. Some would have hurt you, or even worse, not pleasured you like he had. It was a mistake to let you go. A mistake he was going to rectify immediately.

He was only doing this to protect you. Well. He was doing this mostly to protect you. A part of him had to admit that he also simply wanted you again. Wanted to feel the way your tight cunt gripped his cock like it never wanted him to leave the wet heat of your insides. Wanted to hear you squeal as he made you squirt over and over again. Wanted to that breathy voice gasp his name until your throat was hoarse.

He walks out of the party, getting into the fancy limousine that brought him there. “Where to?” His professional chauffeur asks him.

“We’re going to this address,” Kirishima says as he hands over the note. “And make it quick. Can’t keep a lady waiting, now can we?”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93, @marlowewrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @league-of-thots, @shigaraki-is-my-master

#kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bnharem collab #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: yandere

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years ago

Note

Kisses 27/28 with geraskier or lambden!

Thank you lovely!! I don't write enough Lambden so I decided to go with those two and kinda worked in both prompts? (I will probably write something for Geraskier also if I remember!)

They're both drunk and Aiden knows that's the only reason he's being tolerated, that under other circumstances Lambert would have shoved him away by now. But Lambert's just as far gone as he is tonight and he's soft and pliable and Aiden has squirmed his way into his lap without as much as a huff of complaint. So maybe he's feeling daring or maybe he's just sick of dancing around this thing neither of them will deign to acknowledge, but either way, he's feeling good right now. And when Lambert's hands stray further up his thighs, Aiden just smirks.

"Anyone ever tell you you're pretty?" he asks and Lambert huffs harder and looks away. it's a testament to their closeness - or their drunkenness - that he doesn't dump Aiden on the ground right there and storm off. But something keeps him there and for Aiden, that's good enough.

He tips Lambert's chin up so they're facing each other again and smiles at him.

"Beautiful," he hums and Lambert flushes a deep red but says nothing.

Aiden brings a hand up, tracing the slope of Lambert's nose and from there, he drops his fingers to his lips. Lambert swallows hard but pretends not to notice. Aiden hears the increase in his heart rate, feels the way Lambert's body heats beneath his own. He's not stupid, he knows this is long overdue.

So even when Lambert lets out a little gasp, Aiden traces the shape of his mouth with his fingers. He pulls a little at his bottom lip and then gently follows the arch of the upper, eyes fixated on Lambert's mouth. He switches to his thumb, pressing it against his bottom lip and gliding back and forth.

Under his touch, Lambert's lips part and Aiden can hear the way he sucks in breath like he's trying not to. Too late, he thinks, I've already got you.

He pushes forward, between his lips and Lambert closes his mouth instinctively sticking lightly on his thumb and that's… fuck that's something. So Aiden continues, drawing his slick digit back and circling the line of Lambert's mouth.

Beneath him, Lambert starts to squirm and Aiden has to readjust to keep him still. He gets his knees on either side of Lambert's thighs and squeezes, holding him still. But the second his thumb touches Lambert's lip again, all bets are off.

Lambert surges forward, overestimating in his inebriation and knocking Aiden back into the floor. He kneels over him, dropping to his hands and Aiden smiles up at him.

"Beautiful," he whispers again, reaching up to cup Lambert's face in his hands.

He presses both thumbs to Lambert's bottom lip, but he's only just touched him when there are hands around his wrists pressing them back against the ground and holding him down. And before Aiden can even think, Lambert's mouth is against his own, hot and aggressive.

Aiden laughs against his lips and reaches up, winding his arms around Lambert's neck and drawing him in closer. He kisses him hard, like a drowning man who's finally been given a drink, and Lambert slumps against him.

"Idiot," he mumbles but he doesn't stop kissing him and Aiden is more than happy to be an idiot - Lambert's idiot - if it means he can kiss him like this whenever he wants.

"Your idiot?" he suggests and Lambert's cheeks flare a bright red and he buries his face in Aiden's neck.

As he kisses the skin there, Aiden just barely makes out the words, "my idiot."

#aiden x lambert #kiss prompts #rex writes #greyduckgreygoose

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starlight-starwrites · 4 years ago

Note

MA’AM 🥴 if you write about armorless Din going swimming I think. I just might lose. my mind 🥴

jump in

din djarin x reader wc: 2.3k warnings: heights, deep water, there is just fluff and it is dumb soft note: keep! i am so sorry this took so long im sure you’ve forgotten this ever even happened but i said i would do it and finally here it is 😂

feat the gorgeous gif by @bestintheparsec that inspired it all

The rock is hard and rough under your bare feet, and it does nothing to encourage you. When you lean forward to peer over the edge below, you see Din’s form treading water some ten meters below you. Maybe a couple more. He holds onto a small raft with one hand where the kid sits, attention torn between splashing the water and looking up at you.

It could be done, you reasoned. You had just watched Din jump, throwing himself off the ledge and looking almost graceful as he dived headfirst, plunging into the depths before emerging at your side, hovering before giving you a wet kiss. Now all you had to do was jump.

You stare down at the both of them and the beautifully crystal-clear waters. Oh stars. It was a long way.

“Are you going to do it?” Din’s shout reaches you where you teeter over the drop, still debating. “You know you don’t have to!”

You can hear the taunt in his voice. When he had landed in the water, soaking both you and the kid, Grogu shrieked in delight while you cowered and grumbled about the spray. He had surfaced right next to you, bright eyes and the largest grin you’d seen on him in a long time. You’d praised him for it until he suggested you try the same.

Not a few minutes later and now here you stood, but with higher stakes. Of course he’d let you back out. He wanted to win.

“Shut up!” you yell back to him, cursing that you ever agreed to this. He made it look so easy, like it wasn’t really that high at all. It didn’t seem that high, not when you were still down below.

You curse him again, backing away from the edge and toward the slanting shale you climbed up.

“It’s okay, there’s no shame in backing out!”

Mother be damned, Din.

You stand back a few paces away, out of sight from the boys. You take a deep breath, ready to jump if only to prove him wrong. Blaster fire and dogfights didn’t scare you, a little jump shouldn’t either. You would be fine.

It’s important to be careful running barefoot on rock but you do it, carefully taking notice of every little detail. The dip in the ledge, the puddle of water, the perfect place to launch yourself and the speed at which to do it.

It should have been flawless.

To your credit, your form was impeccable for never having done this before. Din said it himself, though much later. You finally got out of your own head enough to do it, flying off the rock and flipping in the air. A real head over heels flip that you wish could have been caught on holo.

It’s a shame you have no blasted idea how to dive.

You hit the water with a straight back, the smack nearly bringing you to tears if not for the fact your head was already under the water, and you started to sink. It hurt. It really kriffing hurt.

But at least you won.

Din’s at your side in a moment, not hesitating to reach before you go any farther, pulling you back up to the surface with a strong arm. He still treads water even while holding you, another hand carefully reaching to steady the kid’s raft before continuing its motion.

“Are you alright?” His face is pulled tight in concern, wet hair pasted to his forehead. You appreciate how expressive he is without the helmet. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it.

You wince when his hand grazes your back, but you brush it off, letting the cool water soothe the sting. “Fine,” you gasp, shaking your head clear of water. “I’m okay.” You grin when you realize exactly what you just did.

Din gently nudges the kid’s little boat forward, pulling you closer to his other side as he tries to bring you back to shore.

“Din, it’s alright, I’ve had worse, really,” you wrap your arm over his shoulders, “we can stay, he’s having fun.” Sure enough, Grogu laughs delightedly at the increased speed of his vessel, happy to enjoy the water from a dry spot.

Din stops, letting the raft slow to a stop too before looks over you. “Are you sure?” He reaches forward, water droplets falling from his fingers as he reaches for your face, pushing your hair back. The touch is gentle and affectionate, and you take a moment to catch your breath and clear your lungs. When you press a kiss to the palm of his hand, his lips part and you watch his eyes dart over your face.

You smile, finally pulling away to tread water on your own.

“Looks like you’re cooking tonight,” you say.

“Looks like I am.”

“So what’s it going to be? Ration packs are off the table.”

“Then you might have to starve.”

“The agreement was to cook, Din, not just open a package.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiles softly at you, slowly pulling his attention back to the kid. He’s been patient through your exchange, only threatening to jump into the water once you both look to him.

For a kid that hates getting wet, Grogu sure was hell bent on chasing anything that moved. When you had walked up to the sparkling lake, he spotted a small frog-like creature and immediately set off. He nearly got the three-legged beast before it leapt under the water, and your poor son fell in after it.

It must have been the most unpleasant experience he ever had with the small tantrum he gave, but apparently it was not enough to keep him from trying to enter the waves again. You had sat on the shore next to Din then, focusing on drying him off while Din fashioned the small raft. His mood has seemed to greatly improve since then.

“Maybe you can catch a few of those little frogs and roast ‘em.”

Din makes face, wrinkling his nose at you and pushes the kid closer to you. You receive him and gently slow him down, smiling at the boy as he giggles, before pushing him back to his father.

“I think only one of us would like that,” Din says, reaching to slow the raft once again, smiling when Grogu reaches for his face as he tries to keep his balance. He lets the kid float for a moment, and Grogu reaches to dip his fingers in the water before shaking them off to splatter across Din’s face.

You smile at their interaction, swimming over to join them. The kid finds a nice distraction while lying down on the raft, patting the surface of the water then aggressively trying to rid himself of the wet. You meet Din, and he easily wraps his arms around your waist while you wind yours over his shoulders. Your damp top sticks to you, your bare legs brushing against Din’s in the water.

It’s nice to be able to enjoy a moment like this, just the three of you in the middle of nowhere. The kid is happy to explore, and you’re just happy to rest in Din’s arms. You let your head fall to Din’s shoulder, watching your son as Din keeps the both of you upright.

“I knew you could do it.”

Din’s words interrupt your thoughts, but you don’t miss his teasing tone.

“Yeah? Then why would you take the bet?”

“Well, I didn’t think you would do it.”

You laugh, your head tilted back so you can feel the sun shine on your face and your chest press to his. He studies your face, a matching grin on his own. You don’t know what he sees, but he looks so much happier, lines erased, eyes finally rested. Your plan to take a few days to yourselves has done more good than he’d be willing to admit.

He pulls you close, eyes dropping down to your mouth. It’s easy to be called into the pull of him, always has. So as soon as you note the way he looks between your lips and eyes, you lean in, meeting him in a sweet kiss. His lips are soft, taste like the salt of the water. The two of you stay like that, floating and turning, holding tight to the other. You pull away slightly, forcing your eyes to open, only to be met with his smile again.

For just a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the way he is still soaked from his jump, jaw unshaven for the past few days. His hair is getting longer now, and you think you might offer to cut it for him again. Or maybe you’ll let him grow it a little longer.

The kid coos, pulling both your attention back to him. He’s drifted in the time you were distracted and waves a long blade of grass at you he didn’t hold before. He almost looks put out as he sits on the little raft, not amused to be left to entertain himself.

Din sighs, a content sound, that pulls at your heart.

“Hold on to me,” he says, arms slipping from you even as you tighten your grip on him. He leans back in the water, you on his chest, and begins to swim backwards toward shore, pulling you with him.

You reach Grogu in less than a second, support his boat so he is pulled with you. Din continues to reach back, pushing the water forward to bring all three of you towards land.

“You’re a strong swimmer,” you note. He seems in his element, even if he wears nothing but an old pair of shorts. Free of the helmet, of the armor, there’s always been some trepidation. It’s gotten better with just the two of you around, but here, he really seems as though he is just himself.

“I should hope so, with all the training I did.” He grunts as he pulls you up, both of you finally able to stand waist-deep. The kid comes to float between you, and he stabs the water with his blade.

“You trained to swim?” You wonder how that would work. “Did you do that with the armor?”

“Sometimes,” he pushes himself back, finding a seat as the water reaches his chest. You nudge the kid towards him. “We did all sorts of drills but learning to swim is important. People think with the armor, it’s easy to drown a Mandalorian.”

He quiets after that, and you fall silent too. You remember the terror of seeing him prodded like an animal in his cage, certain he would drown if you didn’t do something. You silently thank his leaders for those drills.

“I assume that’s not the case with you,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“We have to learn to swim in the armor. I was lucky,” he stops to smile at the kid, gratefully taking the grass he offers him, “I knew how to swim before I put on the armor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly concerned. “What did they just put you in suits of metal and throw you in whether or not you knew how to swim?”

Din wiggles the grass blade above Grogu’s head, making the poor kid frustrated as he tries to grab it back.

“Din?”

He looks at you sheepishly. “That’s…not far off.”

“Oh Maker.”

“They made sure we were okay,” he defends. “The best way to learn is to do, so we did. It saved my life later.”

You shake your head, still a little shocked. “I can’t argue with that.”

You wade through the shallows, coming to sit in the sand next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. The sun is lower in the sky, just peaking above the mountains that rise on the other side of the lake. The breeze is warm, but you’ve adjusted to the cool water now, only slightly shivering when the air kisses your wet skin.

Din leans into you too, his free hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. He’s relented the grass back to the kid, who now quietly sits, twisting the blade into an attempt at a knot. He huffs in frustration, but you admire the way he furrows his little brow and only focuses harder.

You let your eyes wander up to the man you lean on, appreciating the curve of his jaw, the stretch of his neck, the way he fondly stares down at your little green gremlin who has now taken to shoving the grass in his mouth. You let a hand fall to Din’s thigh, feeling the muscle as you move your hand, appreciating the chance to touch his bare skin so easily.

He notices you’re looking eventually, turning to you with a quirk of his lips.

“What?”

You smile again, just happy to look at the way he looks down at you, brows pinched and small pout of his lips. You tilt your chin just a little, and his lips are on yours again. You kiss him softly, once, twice, thrice. You don’t tire of it, being able to share affection without concern.

“Oh nothing,” you whisper against his lips. “Just thinking about the gorgeous view.” His mouth curls into a bashful smile, and you don’t miss the tinge to his cheeks. “Also thinking about the gorgeous view scrounging up some dinner…”

Din groans, but when you both check on the kid, you see him attempting to shove anything within reach in his mouth. You laugh as you both move into action, Din coming to hold the child while you quickly pull the dirty object from his mouth. The three of you stand now, where the waves meet the sand at your ankles and the last rays of light warm your skin.

“Come on,” you say, letting Din pull you to his side as he takes Grogu up in his other arm. “Let’s see if you’re as good a cook as you are a swimmer.”

Tag list (message me to be added/removed!): @ficsilike-reblogged @perropascal @yespolkadotkitty @disgruntledspacedad @aerolanya @jedi-mando @pikemoreno @bitchin-beskar @mostly-megan @lv7867 @readsalot73 @sarahjkl82-blog

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #the mandalorian

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weirdochick56 · 4 years ago

Text

The Bodyguard 2- Bucky Barnes AU

Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, insults, snark, and sassy!Buckster sexy times (ok, so maybe only slightly sexy)

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots or Characters mentioned

Word Count: 5, 173 words

Summary: The Reader and Bucky’s hate for eachother is at an all time high; she can’t seem to rid herself of him and he, well he can’t seem to get her to cooperate with him. But as their frustrations grow, a late-night outing might just be what they both need to see other parts of eachother.

A/n: This has been a long time in the making, but I finally felt inspired enough to continue the story. Hope you enjoy it!

~The Bodyguard 1~

***

“You can stop following me now,” you grumble with thorny irritation, rolling your eyes at the tall persistent shadow staying hot on your tail.

It was in vain to ask him to leave, you knew. Agent Brainless was ridiculously adamant about following you around the moment you stepped foot outside of the palace and he was -infuriatingly so- a stubborn man.

How he knew that you were leaving even when you had concocted what you considered a genius plan to evade those infuriatingly pretty grey irises was beyond you.

He sighs at your words, and you can see the annoyance bubbling to the surface of his cold professional exterior, though he tries his hardest to keep a straight face.

“Your highness, I think we both know I won’t do that,” he responds simply. “Now if you would please stop being so stubborn and simply do as I ask and come with me to the car so that this is easier for us both...”

You can tell his patience is wearing thin because, in the past few weeks of having him follow you everywhere you went, you had made it a point to figure out his exact breaking point.

And as you continue making your escape to town like he isn’t even there, you know that so is yours. If there’s anything that can give you that deep burning satisfaction you sought with everything you did, it was pissing Agent Barnes off.

He had patiently asked you to retreat back the way you came so he could “safely” transport you in a castle-owned car, but you refused redundantly because your friend was already waiting for you, but maybe also because you loved the little twitch of his eye every time you refused to listen to his directions.

If you were being completely honest, he really should’ve been asking you to come back to the castle and not go to a club in town at all- as per your father’s orders. But you weren’t fond of said orders and you definitely didn’t want some dark and mysterious shadow following you around during a night of fun with friends.

“No,” is all you say because in the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him you’ve noticed he’s the most infuriated when your responses are curt and nonchalant.

You want to see him snap oh so bad...seeing those steely grays lose their cool? Gold.

“Princess...” he growls in warning, daring you to cut that little thread of control he had left in him with your sharp tongue.

You don’t look back at him even once enjoying the thrill that travels up your spine at his low-timbre words and the way his voice travels straight to your core, tugging at your short black dress lightly.

You wanted to see what he would do should he be pushed over the edge. It was fun.

“I already told you, I’m not listening to you. My friend is already waiting for me. And I’m sorry if you have an issue with- Ahh!” Your words choke back into your throat and morph into a shocked yelp when big rough hands grip your hips, spinning you around and without much of a warning, lifting you with incredible ease.

Before you know it, you’re being carelessly thrown over a broad, strong shoulder.

You let out a small ‘oomph’ when the wind gets knocked out of you and all you see is a firm ass, the blood rushing to your head.

“What the hell do your think you’re doing you absolute buffoon?!” You screech hysterically, wriggling aggressively against his hold on your thighs.

He barely flinches, only wrapping his muscular arm tighter around your legs and adjusting you on his shoulder like it was a mere midnight stroll for him and you weighed no more than what a feather did.

“I’m taking you to the car,” he informs as if it’s obvious, voice full with obnoxious satisfaction.

“Get your filthy hands off me this instant you utter and complete idiot!” You growl, twisting harshly but he doesn’t let go so you start pounding on his firm back with your fists, fighting to free yourself of him. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

He just laughs at what seems to be your weak attempts to break away. He laughs.

You gasp at the absolute and complete audacity he has of laughing when he’s treating you, the single heir to the Androvian throne, like a sack of potatoes.

“You ass!” You wriggle around some more, tugging at his hands to try to pry them off your legs but all he does is smack them away as if they were mere pesky flies.

“I may be,” he chokes back a small snort but only barely. “But at least I’m the only ass trying to keep your reckless self in check, princess.”

Indignation, humiliation, and utter vexation all burn deep inside you like a thrumming fire ready to ravage everything in its way when it got the chance to escape your body as you slowly fall limp against him.

Resignation comes hand in hand with the deep desire for revenge and you fist your hands in deep ache to somehow exercise it.

He carries you all the way to the garage of cars in the back part of the castle, walks over to a black SUV out of all the expensive cars to choose from, opens it and all but throws you into the back leather seats like you’re not a fucking human, much less the princess of the land he’s currently stepping in.

You land flat on your back in the smooth leather interior of the luxury SUV with a small thud and instantly sit up to glare at him heatedly. “Do you have any idea who I am? Be gentle, you brute!”

Annoyingly enough, he simply ignores you and leans over your body. His heat floods through your bare skin and feels good for a second and you subtly inhale his musky scent as he tugs on the seatbelt, roughly pulling it over you.

You forget about your hatred for him for a split second and that only makes you angrier when it comes back full force.

You fucking idiot, Y/n.

In a last and desperate attempt of defiance, you try to push his hands away to which he responds by firmly pressing you back by your shoulder into your seat and staring you dead in the eye with blazing grey eyes.

The fire that swirls in them is...something. Not necessarily scary, but intimidating and...something else.

Something that makes your skin flush and your nerves throb to life.

You stare right back, tilting your chin up to show him you weren’t backing down or scared of him and his brute force. He got too under your skin and you knew you got under his which only offered you only a limited amount of comfort.

He clenches his jaw as he clicks the seatbelt into place, never looking away from your challenging gaze. As if to stick another dagger into your burning insides. As if to reassert his power here.

Your labored breaths are all that can be heard for miles to come in the calm night air and he leans close for a second, your heaving chests gently brushing.

Not meaning for it to happen, you feel your nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of your black party dress and you wonder if you imagine his hands clenching around your shoulder -his fingers digging into your flesh with suppression- or the sly flick of his eyes from your eyes to your lips.

You wonder if you imagine the look of heat that passes over his eyes when your breaths mix the second time seems to stop and an overwhelming emotion washes over you.

But then it’s gone as soon as it came and hatred burns deep in your belly once more. So deep that it hurts and brings painful tears to your eyes, your nose burning so hard you can’t focus through your blurry vision.

You lean in closer, so close your nose is brushing just barely against his and pause for a second. A second of torture for him, a second of uncertainty, a second where his breath catches and his pupils dilate.

Then you speak, voice trembling with overwhelming anger.

“I have never,” you whisper, licking your lips. “Been treated with such disrespect.” You swallow hard, cheeks red with humiliation.

You see a flash of guilt in his eyes but it’s quickly replaced by his usual look of cool professionalism- not even anger anymore. Not even that.

And he leans right back into you, a wave of heat passing over both of you. “Then learn to listen next time. It’s for your safety.”

And just like that he’s drawing back, slamming the passenger door closed and climbing into the driver’s seat- leaving you cold and angry beyond reason.

A moment of tense silence passes before he releases a tiny sigh and breaks it by turning on the ignition.

“Where are we going?”

BUCKY’S POV

I watch her laugh at something one of her friends says from a dark corner of the club and it’s hard not to stare for reasons other than my duty being just that...to look after her.

The club was a luxurious one, with high ceilings, intricate designs and a VIP section where we were immediately escorted to.

Her Highness’s friends, a blonde guy and girl who had nodded at me in polite acknowledgment were already waiting for her there and I assumed that the few seconds when she had stopped her sulking and taken out her phone from her clutch were the seconds she was texting her friends to meet her there instead.

I would never admit it, but I enjoyed watching her cave. It was like taming a wild horse, even if momentarily.

Princess Y/n was a brat, plain and simple. Selfish, childish, and feisty as hell, I had never met anyone as completely and utterly vexing as her and to say these past few weeks had been hell would be an understatement.

If I wasn’t so good at my job, I would’ve lost her already. She threw me for a loop any chance she got, cutting corners and doing everything she could to avoid my protection.

As I stared at her with that pretty ass smile on her annoyingly beautiful face, it’s hard to imagine that that was the same person pushing every single one of my buttons just a few minutes before.

She actually looked relaxed and...nice?

God, she infuriated me in ways I had no idea I could be infuriated, discovered buttons I didn’t know I had and pushed them to the point I had to throw her over my damn shoulder like a sack of flour.

I was a professional, for God’s sake. Had always been one with every single one of the cases I was assigned, so why was she the one to get under my skin?

...And why did I enjoy having her perfectly round ass so close to my face? Why did I keep thinking about the defiance in those stupidly big eyes over and over like I....craved it?

I wondered to myself as I watched her take down a shot by the bar. She glanced at me over her shoulder, still smiling, but it quickly melted away when our gazes clashed and my own mood soured instantly.

I grimaced when she looked away as if I had burnt her with my eyes and quickly pulled my head out of the gutter.

The fact that she was utterly gorgeous didn’t change how annoying she was. Not to mention I was here on a job.

One I fully intended to complete, no matter how fucking difficult the client was.

The night moves on at a slow pace for me. The princess parties and I watch her like a hawk, making sure not to let her get too wild.

So far I had pried off five guys who were trying their luck with her. From what I’d read on her file and the extensive research I’d done online, her face wasn’t really well known.

She was always kept secret and would be until she was crowned queen of Androvia- some weird old belief or something- so not many people knew what she looked like.

Meaning, these guys probably didn’t know who they were trying to get all handsy with on the dance floor and would only assume was some rich daddy’s girl once my towering form appeared and nicely escorted them away.

For the most part nicely, anyway. Some I had to get a little rougher with.

I make sure to keep my eyes glued on her form, ignoring the way she moved her hips in that tiny black dress. It hugged her alluring curves like a glove and I swallowed hard as she grinded on her female friend, head thrown back and a free smile on her face.

“She is...beautiful, isn’t she?”

I calmly turn towards the voice as it hums out from beside me, turning to see the guy she came with. He takes a sip of his drink, smirking as his eyes remain on the way the princess waves her hands in the air to the beat of the song, sensually shaking her hips as if she was one with the sexy R&B song I had no idea the name of.

I clear my throat, remaining stock still in my bodyguard pose. “Sir, I”m only here to protect her Highness. I really don’t-”

“Oh don’t even try to hide it. She’s easily the most beautiful woman in this whole club.”

He takes my silence as confirmation, it seems, because he proceeds to speak on as if I’ve agreed.

“But it’s not just her physical appearance is it? It’s something else. Something...inside,” he whispers.

When I don’t respond, he continues bitterly. “I’m warning you; don’t fall for her. It’ll only bring you a world of pain, trust me.”

I catch the pain in his voice and stiffen. “I would never fall for one of my subjects, sir,” I assure him.

He laughs sourly. “Sure bud. You keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I insist, swallowing thickly as she laughs, beautiful smile wide and her laughter too melodious to be coming out of such a wretched little urchin.

“Well,” he coughs suddenly, clapping me in the shoulder. “I think I need another drink. Want one?”

I eye his hand which he slowly pries off and shake my head with a slightly clenched jaw.

“I’m on the job, sir,” I remain calm and professional despite the fact that all I wanted to do was break that hand for putting stupid thoughts in my head.

Because for a second there, as the bright club lights shun down on her, I could see what he talked about when he said there was something inside. In that smile, those eyes, that laugh...

But then she made eye contact with me and the feeling turned bitter so quick it’s a miracle I didn’t get whiplash.

She was a brat. Nothing more.

YOUR POV

Sometime late into the night, you had found myself fairly buzzed. Not enough to fall on your face, but enough that walking- well, stumbling over to Agent Asshole only seemed more and more attractive an action.

He glances at you with those eyes and you can’t help the anger the bubbles within you. “Do you plan on staring me down the entire night?”

“It’s my job,” is all he says.

You scowl fiercely at him. “I hate you,” you seethe.

He raises a dark brow but otherwise keeps that stoic expression on his face. “Do you want to leave, your Highness?”

His neutral tone and complete lack of reaction only angers you more and you shake your head furiously. “No, I don’t want to leave. I want you to leave though.”

He presses his lips firmly together. “I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re not.”

“Huh?” He cocks his side slightly to the side and you lean closer to him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“I said; you’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You feel your drunken emotions deep in your chest and without much effort, your voice quickly escalates.

He sighs heavily. “Okay, your highness, I think it’s time I take you back to the castle. C’mon,” he waves a hand toward the door.

You laugh at him coldly, shaking your head. “Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Know your place asshole, you are below me- never forget,” you growl snarkily, leaning right into his face.

You feel his breathing quicken against your cheeks the longer you defiantly smirk up at him, his calm eyes darkening.

You realized you enjoyed pushing him to the edge, that you craved this look on his face...

He smirks mockingly down at you, staring you down. “You can come willingly, your highness, or I can throw you over my shoulder like last time.” He leans straight into your ear, whispering hotly. “I’m sure you would rather not go through the embarrassment.”

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering against your chest and you’re not sure it’s from anger anymore. With disgust, you jerk away from him, glaring holes into his head.

“Let’s go.”

“You can go, Agent Obnoxious,” you mumble drunkenly, waving a dismissive hand at him as you stumble into your warm room, practically ripping off your heels.

You throw them somewhere in the corner of the large room, sighing with relief when you feel your bare feet touching the soft carpeted floor.

Your knees shake slightly and buckle and you end up tripping forward.

You land on the ground with a soft grunt and for some reason, laughter bubbles deep in your chest.

“Your Highness!”

A few seconds later, you feel strong warm hands wrapping around your body to heave you up. You place your hands on his strong arms for support and look up at Agent Barnes.

The laughter immediately dies on your lips when you see a beautiful concerned frown of engraved deep in his face. It looks so sincere and his arms are so strong...

Before you know what you’re doing, a small mumble is leaving your lips. “You...” you cut yourself off abruptly when his eyes meet yours.

His hands now rest lightly on your waist, and you’re so close you can smell him. His scent is deep and rich and manly, so unlike the scent of those rich assholes you were forced to mingle with on a daily basis.

And his hands, are strong and resilient. The callouses on them tells you that he’s worked his entire life. Those hands, the ones holding you right now, They’ve probably handled a gun, they’ve probably saved so many lives...

You bite your lip, thinking about the way those hands felt on the skin of your arm and how heavenly it would feel if it traveled all over.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you crane up your neck to stare up at him.

He stares down at you, and even when your room is dark, the light of the moonlight that filters in from the huge window highlights the heavy tension in his gaze.

You’re both unmoving and you wonder if he enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy his touch.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering to your lips and eyes and then back.

You want to ask him what he’s thinking. You want to tell him to just do it -to just kiss you because you wouldn’t dare push him away- not in this state, not when the alcohol and his scent and eyes were clogging every single sense and reason you had, but you’re afraid to break the spell of whatever this was.

So instead, you wait on abated breath, feeling like you’re both on the verge of something utterly earth-shattering, for him to move.

Finally, he speaks a few seconds later and it’s a quiet murmur. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

You ignore the sharp sting of his rejection when you were so clearly begging him to kiss you and step away from his touch as if he’s burnt you.

You turn around so he can’t see the hurt in your eyes. “You can go now Agent Brainless,” you say coldly over your shoulder, but you know it’s a lot softer than the other time.

Another second passes. “Princess..” he whispers.

You ignore his barely audible whisper and angrily begin undressing, tugging at the straps of your dress.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” He growls lowly as you begin to pull your dress down to your waist.

With a sarcastic smile, your turn towards him, your top half completely naked aside from your black lacy bra.

His gaze immediately falls on your half-naked chest, but aside from the small flicker in his eyes and gulp he takes, he gives no other indication of shock.

You raise a brow. “Are you going to watch me undress now too, Agent Barnes?” You ask mockingly.

His eyes find yours again and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them. They send shivers through your whole body and you almost give into the urge to look away, but the anger and frustration within you don’t allow your gaze to waver.

“I’m not leaving until you’re safely in bed,” he husks, clearly trying his best to remain professional and cold as his icy stare bores into your eyes- purposefully looking away from your naked form.

You tilt your head up at him innocently, slowly sauntering closer to him. “Oh? Well in that case, do you mind helping me with the zipper of my dress? It’s stuck.”

You turn your back on him and a smirk blossoms in your face as you hear his breathing strain, your ass slightly brushing against his crotch area.

He blows out a shaky exhale and it blows against your naked back, all hot and angry.

When he makes no move to help you, you look at him over your shoulder. “Well?”

His grave expression doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that,” he says lowly.

But even as he resentfully spits this, he doesn’t budge and his eyes are still tracing over your body, their electric desire leaving goosebumps over wherever they ran over.

You roll your eyes at him. “Then turn around, you idiot.”

He growls, fisting his hands and clenching his jaw tightly but doesn’t try to fight you on it and turns his broad back to you.

You’re intoxicated, so it’s probably because you’re not thinking straight, but as you quickly slip on a silk night gown and stare at his back, you can’t help the deep heavy sadness that sinks into your chest.

Why hadn’t he kissed you just now? You could’ve sworn he wanted to and you sure as hell did...it was there, the moment, the split second when you were willing to risk it all, to overlook any and all boundaries, cross all imposing lines- but you lost it.

Pushing your hair to the side, you convince yourself it was for the best.

“I’m done,” you say softly, climbing into bed.

Agent Barnes nods at you stiffly, turning on his heels to leave as you get under the covers. Blaming this on your intoxication, you suddenly find yourself exclaiming.

“Wait!”

He pauses right before his foot moves outside the doorframe and turns toward you, eyebrows raised. “You need something, Your Highness?”

You stare at him seriously, pressing your head against your pillow. “Don’t...leave, please,” you whisper softly, curling into a ball at the tenderness of your voice.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit quietly.

He freezes, staring at you as if he’d never seen you before and you avert your gaze, afraid maybe you let on too much.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologize, but that only flusters you more. “I-I mean not sorry, you asshole. Just- whatever. I’m in bed now, you can go.”

Feeling embarrassed, you quickly flip over and turn your back to him.

Seconds later, you hear the door click close and then nothing. A heavy sigh escapes you and you try to suppress the feeling of disappointment that envelops your whole body.

You didn’t know if it was the drinks or the cold distant dinners you’d been having with your family...but you had never felt more alone. All the clubbing and trying to escape your destiny by trying to pave a life of your own couldn’t fill in that emptiness you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.

You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. Not tonight.

So even if it was your bodyguard who you hated with everything in you, you needed someone just to be there. Even if it was just to sit in silence with.

Suddenly, you hear a gentle swish noise and gasp lightly, flipping over. Agent Barnes has thrown his jacket over the chair beside your bed and is loosening his tie and he stares at you. His beautiful gaze sucks you in as you blink up at him in surprise.

He shrugs. “I can’t just....leave you here alone.”

Your chest clenches painfully and warmth travels all over your body like warm gooey honey. The feeling of having someone there for you when you need them most is almost overwhelmingly strong.

“Thank you,” you whisper so quietly, you’re shocked he even hears it.

He tilts his head at you, frowning with that handsome face of his. “For what? It’s my job.”

There he goes detaching himself. With a gentle shrug, you nod and curl into a ball under your covers, trying to covet sleep.

You try this for a few minutes and you’re tired, but you can’t help thinking about Agent Barnes sitting in a hard chair all night. After a while of tossing and turning, you sit up.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you breathe with irritation.

“What? What happened?” he sits up instantly, and though you could tell he was on the verge of dozing off, his sharp senses are impressive as he reaches for the gun on his ankle frantically.

You sigh, hating the way your cheeks grow hot and you look away timidly. “Just get into bed,” you say roughly.

“What?”

You bite your lip, looking at him in the eyes. “I said; get into bed with me. That chair is uncomfortable.”

He laughs lightly. “Princess, I was trained by the world’s best assassins. I was taught to sleep on a cold concrete ground if need be.” He gives the chair a firm pat. “This chair is a luxury for a guy like me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, wondering more about his past before lightly shaking your head.

“I don’t care. I still feel bad that I made you sleep here on a chair. Just get in already, will you?” You growl at his stubbornness. “The bed is huge, there’ll be enough space for the both of us, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you add on, softly.

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he finally relents with a small sigh. “Fine.”

Hesitantly, he cuffs his sleeves and perches himself on the edge of the bed- all stiff and tight. “Good?” He asks, glancing at you with raised brows.

You frown. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re not actually planning to sleep like that are you?” You snort.

“I told you-”

“That you were trained by dangerous assassins, yeah yeah. But you’re still a human and a ridiculous one at that,” you scoff before suddenly smirking. “You’re not afraid of lil old me, are you? I’m tiny- I couldn’t possibly hurt you...too much,” you offer him a faux innocent smile, batting your lashes.

He stares at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh trust me, I’ve met girls like you before. You definitely don’t bite.”

You raise a brow amusedly. “Girls like me?”

His sexy smirk widens. “Yeah. You’re all bark but no bite,” he replies vaguely.

Feeling partially indignant and partially curious, you decide to probe him for answers. “Oh yeah?”

He can’t resist your subtle challenge and continue speaking. “You’re always in power, constantly being chased after because you’re beautiful and rich and you act like it’s what you want in a guy, but it isn’t, is it?”

Deeply intrigued by his generally accurate analysis, you can’t help but laugh. “Oh?”

“No.” He stares deeply into your eyes and the smile slips off your lips as he says his next words with the intensity of a thousand suns. “You bark out orders and you take on responsibilities like a boss, but what you really want is a man. Not a pushover boy that’ll listen to your every command and constantly try to please you, fall at your feet...But a man that’ll choke slam you on the bed, that’ll make you his, that’ll torture you with the deepest pits of hellish pleasure until he ruins every other man for you. You want to be controlled, brought over the edge so far you won’t ever be able to go there by yourself and then at the last moment get that taken away from you. You want to be used.”

You openly gape at him but he ignores you and slightly scoots closer, still at a safe distance, but close enough where you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“Sleep, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

At first, you’re too shocked to react. Your heart is positively hammering against your ribcage and your cheeks are uncharacteristically red. You were flushed. How had he managed to...’you know what?’ You think. ‘No.’

You breathe in deeply. ‘ I’m not going to think about it anymore.’

Because doing so would mean letting him win. And also, never mind the fact that he’s in your bed right now...

Decidedly, you squeeze your eyes shut, begging sleep to come amidst all your stupid, surely drunken thoughts about your stupid bodyguard and kissing him, or simply straddling him right now...

Despite how much you disliked him, you felt safe and protected, like you could let your guard down. And yet...not enough.

Soon, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of his body, you curl into a ball and slowly let your heavy lids close, relaxing completely.

“Oh, and Agent Brainless?” you murmur, on the very verge of sleep.

“Yes, princess?” He looks at you.

You manage to send him one last cold smirk before answering.

“Don’t misinterpret this, right now. I’m merely asking you to do your job.”

And then darkness takes over.

Before fully giving into the softness of the darkness of slumber, though, you think you hear him laugh softly and say something like “wouldn’t dream of it, brat.”

****

They’re honestly growing on me. Should I continue?

ALSO YALL SEE TFATWS???? SEBASTIAN LOOKS SO DARN GOOD PLEASEEEEEE

A special thanks to:

@lilypalmer1987

@jessikared97

@sammykb1994

@mogaruke

@mo-onstarrs

@loveofmychips @juliesland

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky barnes masterlist #james bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #Bodyguard!Bucky #bodyguard!bucky x reader #James Buchanan Barnes #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america

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babbushka · 4 years ago

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hellooo Zannah! how are you? ;u;

can i get prompt 23. "I didn’t punch him, my knuckles are red because I like them that way" with dear Flip please?

thank you! 💜

A/N: Sooo many people requested this with Flip and I thought it was so funny the sheer amount of folks wanting him to beat someone up, that I had to write it! I hope that you, and everyone else who had asked, enjoy this short something!

1.2k, warnings for mention of blood and slight violence

He knows he’s in deep shit, the entire ride home. It’s not even noon for fuck’s sake, you haven’t even come to visit him at the station -- are likely putting together his lunch as he climbs up the porch steps -- and he’s home. Sitting in the car, he fiddles with the keyring for a moment or two, before resigning himself to your sharp knowing eye, taking a deep breath.

When he opens the front door and the smell of a summer cherry pie wafts out from the kitchen and into his nose, he forgets for a moment why they sent him home, lost in the deep-sated relief of being home.

“Honey?” Flip calls out in that way that he always does, so that you don’t have to worry and know that it’s him straight away. He barely gets the word out before you’re happily sticking your head out from around the corner of the foyer through to the kitchen, a bright smile on your face.

“Flip!” You greet him with that sparkle in your eye that has had Flip’s heart melting for thirteen years, until that sparkle turns to something a little more concerned, confused, as you look at the grandfather clock in the corner and frown, “Wait...why are you here so early?”

He was a strong man. A tough man. He did two tours in Vietnam for crying out loud.

So why is the slow tilt of your head so terrifying to Flip, when you cross your arms in front of your chest and raise an eyebrow at him. Flip smokes his cigarette, tries to busy himself so that he doesn’t look so immediately guilty, stares down at his boots.

“Does the reason really matter?” He winces as he tries to downplay it, and you groan, walking towards him fully with a deep divot between your brows.

“Oh god what did you do this time.” It’s less of a question and more of an opportunity for him to spill, and Flip falls for the trap because he always does.

“Who says I’m the one that did something?” He’s too defensive, and that’s all you really need to hear, before you’re wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his neck with a sigh.

He likes that even when you’ve got perfect reason to be annoyed with him, you still want to be close to him. Pulling away after a few moments, you want him out of the foyer, so you take his hand and tug him through to the kitchen where sure enough, the familiar lunch basket is sitting on the counter surrounded by goodies waiting to be packed away.

“Want a beer?” You automatically go towards the fridge, but Flip gets anxious at that for some reason, at the thought of you moving away from him.

Firming his grip on your hand, he gently prevents you from going too far, wanting instead to keep you right up against him, next to him where he can kiss you, and that’s exactly what he does. Your eyes close and you breathe out a deep sigh against his mouth, your fingers winding through his hair, smiling against him despite it all.

“No thanks.” Flip shakes his head, rubbing his nose against your own.

“Jesus something’s really wrong, huh?” You bite at the inside of your cheek, the gears in your head already spinning when you quietly ask, “Was it Landers again?”

The very mention of the name sends Flip’s mood into a downward spike. His jaw clenches and with it, his hands, clutching the fabric of your apron that’s only a little smeared with butter and flour. Smoking the cigarette a little more aggressively, Flip calms himself by holding you impossibly closer, tucking your face under his chin and breathing in the sweet smell of your perfume.

“Yeah.” He glowers, speaking lowly, softly, trying not to get all worked up again. “Caught him acting like a dick to Ron, you know the new guy, Ron?”

“Of course I do, he’s your partner for the case.” Your voice is slightly muffled from the way that you’re held too tightly, but you don’t try to pull away, much to Flip’s appreciation.

“Landers is going to be a problem, everyone can already fucking tell.” Your husband says with an aggravated sort of groan. He reaches up to scrub away the headache that’s been threatening to form the entire drive home, as he explains, “I watched him shoulder-check the rookie and knock all his files to the ground, and couldn’t just do nothing about it.”

Putting the barest hint of distance between you, you instinctively reach for his hand to inspect his knuckles and find them exactly the way you expected: fucked up. They’re crusted in blood that you’re not so sure is his, swollen and angry looking. The skin had started to split on some of them, but not badly enough that they’d scar. Besides, you think, from Flip’s years and years of boxing, his knuckles have definitely seen worse.

“Let me guess, you punched him.” Raising a brow at Flip, you state the obvious, and as is Flip’s nature, he replies with an equally deadpan quip;

"I didn’t punch him, my knuckles are red because I like them that way."

The truth is he did much more than just punch the slimy piece of shit. He knocked the man out cold, had to have a couple other beat cops come haul him over to the break room and dunk his face in cold water in the sink. Landers will be sporting one helluva black eye and battered nose tomorrow, if Flip had anything to say about it -- which he did.

“For an undercover detective, you’re a pretty shit liar.” You reach up and tug on Flip’s earlobe, but surprisingly, instead of being angry, Flip thinks you look rather fond.

And he thinks that maybe if you were any other housewife, you’d put him on the couch for the night, but you’re not. You’re the most understanding person Flip’s ever known, and he’s lucky he gets to call you his.

“Love you.” You whisper, because no matter what, you do.

“Love you more.” Flip grins back at you, because no matter what, he does.

Bumping your hip against his, you chuckle and lead him out of the kitchen and into the powder room where you know the closest first aid kit lives in one of the cabinets. He happily goes along, like he always does, because even though he’s home on bad terms, he’s still home, still with you.

“It’s not a competition, you know.” You throw him a playful look over your shoulder, and there it is again, the sparkle in your eye returning in a way that has Flip’s pulse beating in a much better way than it was only an hour ago.

“Course it is,” Flip licks across his teeth, traps you in the hallway by putting his arms up and blocking your path, leaning down to press a kiss to your soft lips once again, murmuring a cheeky, “And I’m winning.”

Giving in to the temptation to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him again, you eventually duck out from under his arms with a smile, preventing another one of his big scowls with the promise of a fun time, “Let me ice your hands and then you can claim your victory prize, hm?”

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

Tagging some Flip loving friends! @mochabucky@sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions@direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux@kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow@babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks@materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000@rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings@groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless@angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975@cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen@caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea

#beautiful-delirium #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #adam driver fanfic #adcu #flip zimmerman imagine #blackkklansman

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flocholate-chip · 4 years ago

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imagine comforting floch after he has a nightmare n petting his hair while he clings onto you im going to be ill i love him sm

Omfg literally imagine though. It’s late and the window is slightly cracked and the room is chilly, and you have the blanket pulled up over your shoulder on the verge of sleep. The door startled you when you hear a soft bang, and then you realize somebody is knocking on the wood. They sound so hesitant and unsure. You’ve been at the yeagarist base as a ‘prisoner’ for about a week now. I put parentheses on prisoner because you aren’t even sure if you can consider yourself one. You’re given almost full reign of the base, simply because for reasons you can’t understand, the devoted charismatic ginger is so so desperate that you see his point and join his side. He could care less if the others agree with them, he’ll mow them down, and yet for some reason it’s so important to him that you agree with him. You don’t get it, but what can you really do?

And then you find yourself laying there questioning which buttfuck yeagarist is knocking on your door so late. It surely isn’t an emergency. There would be more shouting outside, or the knocks would be more urgent at least. The knocks seem so light the person might as well not even be trying to wake you up, which defeated the whole purpose of wrapping their knuckles on the wooden door in the first place.

None the less you find yourself getting up, pulling on your robe as you adjust the silk of the outfit you’re wearing. (Depending on your gender preference that could be a nightgown or maybe you’re just a really classy homie rocking a silk button down. You know? Feel yourself.)

You don’t even bother tying the thick fluffy robe completely around your waist, as you don’t feel you have time. By the time your bare feet had hit the floor to make their way to your door the knocking had already slowed. And by the time you were at the door, adjusting the silk of your sleepwear to make sure you were presentable, the knocking had completely stoppped.

Your hand brushes against the cold metal of the handle, tainted by the chilled air, and you shiver slightly before pushing down on it and pulling open the door to the sight of....

Nothing....

You stare for a moment in shock and confusion at the empty doorway, blinking a couple of times before clearing your throat, muttering a soft

“What the fuck...?” Under your breath as you barely stepped out into the hallway, looking down both ways. If you saw no one... you were going to assume you were being fucked with, or this place was haunted as fuck.

You looked left and the hallway was empty... so you looked right,

Just in time to catch a sliver of ginger hair attempting to quickly disappear around the corner.

So you stepped out just a little further into the hall, squinting slightly in the dark before stepping out after the person. You just needed to get close enough to see who was fucking with you and then-

Your hand hit their shoulder, whipping them around quickly, which they didn’t seem to like, as they quickly flinched away. You weren’t sure how you’d moved fast enough to catch up with them already but, god speed you know?

None the less, when you saw the face of the person standing before you, you were left momentarily shocked, trying to piece together what the fuck was happening.

“Forster???”

He grimaced and looked away. You stood there for a moment, mouth opening and closing confusedly like a fish out of water. You caught your breath then, and took in a gasp of air, preparing to use it to go off on him and ask him why he was playing such a cheap prank as ding dong ditching. Didn’t he have better things to do???

But then- you stopped yourself, one finger pointed out in front of your face and mouth hanging open as if you were about to begin to make a statement but... you couldn’t. You were caught off guard by something else.

Maybe you had just connected that he flinched when you first touched him. Or maybe you were finally questioning why his cheeks were so red. His eyes were puffy.... nose just as red as his flushed cheeks. He was biting his lower lip slightly, brows furrowed. Both of his fists were clenched at his sides tightly. His ken doll cut of ginger hair was... messy. It was parted at an odd direction to the left, part of it sticking up at an odd angle as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

The closer you looked... come to think of it. His green military jacket looked hastily thrown on.... the uniform underneath softer than usual.... sleep where? Were his shoulders shaking???

Your hand dropped slowly back to your side as you watched his face. He refused to seem to want to meet your gaze. So, for a moment you both just stood there in silence before you finally softly muttered,

“Floch??” You tried to be careful with your tone. You weren’t sure what state the self appointed captain was in.

He took in a deep breath, and then suddenly blurred out.

“So do you hate me? Or what??”

You stared in absolute awe for a second as you tried to process the word vomit that had just been thrown at you. Finally, squinting slightly in confusion you murmured,

“What? No- i don’t hate you floch... what are you doing though it’s late? Surely you’re not outside my door at three in the morning to ask me if i am fond of you or not.”

“So you don’t hate me?” He dodged your question.

“Why won’t you listen to me then? Nothing is working out right now- these battles are going to shit and it seems like we’re loosing and-“

You’d never seen him like this.

“These people are relying on me!” He continued,

“They’re relying on me to be eren’s voice! And I’m only trying to do what’s right for the sake of Eldia and i really can’t keep fighting this hard without-“

“Floch- what the hell are you-“

“I need you!” He spat.

“All you do is deny me but i need you, don’t you get that?”

You found yourself silent again, standing there staring at the ginger in shock, you had no idea how to process what you were hearing.

“I need you like you were there for me four years ago....” he whispered. And finally he made eye contact with you, and you noticed the fresh glaze of liquid on his lower lids. The way it made his golden brown eyes glisten in the moonlight coming from the small hall window. His lip was trembling, his voice cracked.

“I lost everyone... y/n.... and you were the ONLY one that was there for me? Why- i don’t know, you had so many other things to do and you chose to stick by me.... i need you like that again.... please... tell me you’ll stand by me again.”

“Floch...” you were quiet for a moment, trying to find your words, and then you spoke.

“You’re one of my closest comrades-“ at the word ‘comrade’ you watched the light leave his eyes a little bit, and you stumbled to reword your sentence, not quite sure where you went wrong.

“You know I’ll always stand by you- even if i don’t support what you-“

“I need you more than i needed you then-“ he interrupted you.

“I wanted you more then... but.... i need you more now.”

“Floch- what in the world are you talking ab-“ you could barely get a word in with the ginger being as worked up as he was.

“I need you more now! I need you in a different way!”

“Floch!” You whisper hissed, reaching out and slapping a hand over his mouth. He let out a muffled shout, which you aggressively shushed.

“What has gotten into you, do you want to wake up everyone in this base?!?” You hissed. He was quiet for a moment, glancing back and forth from your hand to your eyes. You cleared your throat and then in a calmer tone, very gently whispered.

“I don’t know what you mean by a different way, Floch i need you to really explain to me what you need from me because i can’t help you if you don’t explain to me what the fuck is running through that muddled little mind of yours....”

“Y/n....” he whimpered slightly, looking desperate if not almost hopeless.

“You’ve been my only real friend for years.... always sticking around me and staying with me when things were at their worst. Defending me.... caring for me... you’d have to understand where i get off wanting more out of this relationship.”

“I mean... maybe?” You muttered.

“But- I’m not sure I’m following. You’re ranting frantically and By the walls you’re shaking like a leaf.... why don’t we get you some tea and then you can explain to me what-“

You were cut off by something warm pressed against your lips, and you fought for a moment before realizing it was the ginger’s desperate... and awkward attempt at kissing you. It wasn’t... the best kiss you’d ever had in regards to technique but... something about it still set your body on fire. Within seconds, without even thinking you’d thrown your arms around his neck, gently pulling him closer. His whole body shuttered at your welcoming invite his romantic advance and he tilted his head slightly to deepen the sloppy kiss. He was simply desperate to feel you on his skin. You weren’t pushing him off... after weeks of your avoidant behavior you weren’t pushing him off. You weren’t telling him to get the fuck away from you. He felt his knees buckle slightly, but he didn’t think it was that big of a deal until you’d gasped. He only then realized his lips weren’t on yours anymore, and he was leaned into you awkwardly, topped over on his knees in front of you.

“Floch....” you muttered softly, slipping a hand around to gently support him before he fell completely over.

“Woah woah.... you never explained why you’d been crying. What’s going on... are you okay?”

He cleared his throat, tiredly resting his head against your stomach as he tried to grab his bearings again, grunting out in embarrassment,

“Sorry i just.... i.... i had a nightmare is all... it’s not that big of a deal... listen... um.”

With this new found fuck up he was having to face, he was quickly considering the option of just retreating and not having to face the fact that he just kissed you and collapsed.

“Maybe i should just go back to my room and we can talk about this tomorrow over tea? I-“

“Floch.... no.” You sighed quietly, slipping a hand gently around his torso.

“Come on.... come sleep in my bed.... it’s okay.”

He was still for a moment, contemplating, before nodding.

Your room was still cool, but he found comfort in the chilly air even after he took off his jacket, exposing his arms to the cold. Sliding into the bed against your warm body seemed to ease every ounce of cold in the room, and he welcomed the offer to gently nuzzle his face into your plush chest, soothed by the sound of your heart beat.

“So this is why you’ve been so intent on keeping me around, huh?” You joked softly as you gently brought a hand up to card through his hair.

“Because you love me?”

Your smile dropped from smug to adoring, however, when he softly responded with only a sleepy,

“Mhm.... i... love you.” Into your chest, muffled by your skin. Gently, you curled yourself around him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as you wrapped your leg around his torso to pull him closer.

“I love you too flochy....” you whispered softly as you carded your fingers through the ginger’s soft locks, stopping to gently toy with his adorable bangs.

“Get some sleep...” you sighed as you shut your eyes, feeling him hug you tighter.

“And you’ll still be here when i wake up?” He questioned hesitantly, to which you softly replied,

“Promise....”

And when sunrise came, you were, face still buried in his hair, breathing softly. He needed you more than you expected, but you still had no problem coming in clutch. After all, it wasn’t always easy to love him, but for him it was worth it.

((WHY DOES IT ALWAYS BECOME A WHOLE FIC. WHY CAN’T I RESPOND TO ASKS NORMALLY.))

#attack on titan #aot #floch forster #floch x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #floch #aot season 4 #floch aot #aot floch #armin arlert

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wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

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Baby Daddy Shigaraki fanfic pt2

It was a miracle that no one questioned the name put down when Shigaraki had to sign the birth certificate. You summed it up as fearing for their lives but it could be many things you try to convince yourself as the reality of your new life truly set in.

The after birth pain, though constant, was numbed whenever you looked down on your son's face. He had yet to do anything more than sleep, much to your annoyance. And was aggressive when breastfeeding much to Shigaraki's enjoyment, "Just like his father."

Dabi was the second one to hold Daiki after Komugiri but the look of horror on his face when you fully released the baby into his arms was one that deeply concerned you. "It's breathing." He whispered to you eyes wide.

You signal for Komugiri to stand close behind Dabi just in case he really lost it. "Yeah Dabi.....he is breathing...cause that's what living things do."

Time skip

You sigh as you finally set Daiki down inside his new bed for a nap. His small face looked so delicate surrounded by soft lavender blankets. His whole room theme was a soft purple as preferred by Komugiri.

You closed the door till there was only a sliver of light coming in just in case he woke up again, then you headed to your living room.

Shigaraki sat on the couch shirtless and flicking through TV channels. "Why are you still here?" You ask as you walk to the kitchen to find your tea. "What do you mean?" You stir four teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. "I got Daiki under control, you don't have inconvenience yourself."

Tomura flicked through the channels once again. "You and Daiki are not an inconvenience, you're both my responsibility now." You release the spoon causing it to clink loudly against your ceramic cup. "I don't want you to force yourself to be here, you've obviously proved that you don't really want to be apart of this."

"Y/N come on now this again?!" "Yes this again!" Shigaraki groaned scratching idly at his neck. "I've already missed the hidden trailer off Daiki's life I'm not going to miss the prequel sequel." You groan softly, "Stop talking in video game terms you know I don't understand!"

Shigaraki stands up and walks to the kitchen now leaving only the island separating you. "Look you can hate me all you want, I don't care, hell I'm used to it. But you are not keeping me from my son." You shudder at the tone Tomura spoke at.

There were very few times when you've heard this voice and luckily it was never directed to you. This voice meant that what he said was final and he would not go back on it no matter who got in his way. "I would love to have you in his life Tomura, but I don't want what comes with it." You finally say, making Tomura throw his hands up in defeat.

"What do you expect me to do woman?! Make him tag along on "Bring your child to work day?" You turn away trying to contain your annoyance in fear of waking up the baby. "I'm giving you one chance to get your shit together, don't mess it up." Behind you, you could hear the steady steps of Tomura retreating, "And I'm giving you a chance to see how stupid you're being right now."

Before he completely walked away he stopped, "I am going to check on Daiki since it seems like he's the only one that appreciates my efforts."

Once you heard the familiar creak of Daiki's bedroom door you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "How did I get like this?"

It of course was on a Saturday, as all good stories do. You were working a waitress job at Denny's as a way to earn some pocket money for your first year in Japan.

"Table 3 we got your Bourbon Chicken skillet, Fish and chips, two waters, and a cherry sprite." Your say setting down all your items before walking to the booth next to them.

"Hello welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you all tonight?" Dabi at the time, had a nonchalant hand over Twice's mouth most likely to stop his internal bickering. Komugiri was navigating the kids menu with a then 15 year old Toga. Spike ordered some Fish and Chips as per usual and Shigaraki was starting at your tits.....

Shigaraki was staring at your tits.....

He was STARING- I think you get the point

"Hey birthday bitch what are you ordering?" Dabi said snapping Tomura back to the present. "Uh.. get me a steak skewer." Dabi gasped, "I spent all my time and hard work scrounging up money and you get a damn steak skewer for your birthday?!"

The five stages of grief came over you internally as you had been standing there way past your recommended time. "If you guys aren't ready to order, I'll just come back-"

"No no no, we are ready. Can we get chicken on a stick with a side of grapes and fries for the young lady. Steak and eggs for me...Dabi? Dabi leaned back simultaneously releasing twice. "We would like a 3-egg omelette-with some cock!"

You didn't get paid enough for this.

"I'll get you the omelette but I'm afraid I'm out of stock for that last part." You smirk, putting down the orders so far. Dabi snapped the menu shut, "Do y'all have chicken tenders?" Dabi asked, looking at you hopefully. You nod and he fist bumped Twice for some unforeseen reason.

"Uh get crusty over there a Supreme Sizzling Skillet." "Wait why can all of you get chicken but I can't?!" You wrote down the orders and glanced at Shigaraki who was now looking directly at you as if you held all the answers. "Okay for drinks?"

As you got off work, you took the back alley entrance to the bus stop. "Hey." Your scream and toss a punch into the darkness effectively making skin to skin contact. "Ow what the fuck?!" "What do you mean what the fuck you're the rapist!"

Shigaraki's signature light blue hair appeared from the shadows almost glowing from the dim alley light. "Rapist? No, I'm more on the lines of stalker." You stand there for a moment rethinking your life choices. "Yeah okay well I'm going to go-" "Wait!"

You feel half of a hand grip onto your wrist stopping you in your place. "I uh... Think you're cute and, ah crap what did Dabi tell me to say?!"

As he mulled over his choice of words you hesitantly reach into your purse for pepper spray. "Uh I was wondering if I could get to know you?" He finally ended off staring at you expectantly. You looked back at him expectantly.

"I know this seems creepy but I'm not exactly good at talking to people that are not my friends so you're kinda boss level interaction." For a while your stare at each other as the cold fall wind blew past the two if you. Giving up, you sighed and pulled out a price of paper, "Look, if I wake up tomorrow and none of my underwear is missing and window is not mysteriously open, I'll give you a call, but don't expect it!"

And he didn't expect it. To your surprise, you never found any ominous signs of entry into your substitute home, and he never 'conveniently' showed up at your job.

Even so, the very fact that you called him was during a moment of weakness. You were extremely home sick and you had just moved into your new home that was only equipped with a fully furnished bedroom and a microwave.

When you heard the hesitant knock on the door you quickly put your cup of noodles down and opened the door. In your face was a rose...a single rose in a pot.

Thats different

"It was short notice and it's not like any flower places were open.... So I stole it." You gingerly take the plant into your hands, "It's the thought that counts (?) Come in." You shut the door behind him and set the plant in the kitchen.

"You must forgive the dryness of my home, I just moved in so there isn't much going on." Tomura hummed as he felt his bones relax as the warmth of the house filled his body. You stared at each other for a while, awkwardly sweating back and forth. Finally, you both opened your mouth to speak up.

"I didn't know I'd get this far so.."

You blink at each other before you double over with laughter. "Uh okay, well how about we watch a movie, get comfortable. The TV is in my room so I hope that doesn't bother you."

You put on Wall-E for lack of better mood as Tomura hesitantly settled on your plush bed, hands clasped tightly between his thighs.

You two watch these movie in silence and shared popcorn. It wasn't awkward silence though, it was needed. A unspoken message saying that you both acknowledged that this was weird but it was a good weird. Both of you were willing to give it a try.

"Hey pass the popcorn." Tomura said blindly patting the air in front of you. "No you've ate most of it already!" You opted to keeping the bag as far as possible. "It's good popcorn now hand it over." You continue to resist but he was more stubborn.

Unable to think of any other way to save your beloved popcorn you clench your eyes shut and deliver a small peck to the tip of Shigaraki's nose.

Almost as if shocked, he slides away holding his nose gently. You huff with airy laughter at his flushed face, "Told you, this is my popcorn."

You smile softly at the memory wiping away a stray tear from your face. "One chance... I'll give him one chance."

You tiptoe to Daiki's new room and peek inside. It was too dark for you to see inside so you opened the door completely. You blankly look into the empty room before falling to your knees. "SHIGARAKI TOMURA I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" You scream into the night air as you glared into the baby less crib.

"Man are you sure you should have him here? He's still a newborn and nothing's baby proof, hell this is a bar so it's far from sanitary!" Dabi said glancing into the baby carriage. Daiki sleepily gazed up at Dabi and babbled.

"Y/N and I are going through a small set back so I decided to give her some space." Tomura unclipped Daiki from his carseat and picked him up holding his head in a four fingered hold. "We decided to give her some space isn't that right?" He cooed at Daiki who gingerly hit his nose.

"Dude stop, seeing you with a baby is giving me the creeps." Shigaraki glared as Dabi took a shot, "Ignore your uncle Dabi he's just mad he's not as cute as you."

Komugiri was washing dishes until a shiver went down his mystical spine, "I feel a disturbance in the force.

#black y/n #blackreader #bnha headcanons #mha #bnha #bnha x black reader #shigaraki cant control his feelings #shigaraki x poc #shigaraki x reader #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #bnha x poc!reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha parenthood #black! reader #mha angst

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gallickingun · 5 years ago

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break the glass {in case of emergency} || t.s.

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto needs help, so he hires a nanny. More specifically, he hires you.

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Shouto x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 21.2k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the definition of a labor of love. big thanks to @k-atsukidayo, @freckledoriya, and @lady-bakuhoe for keeping me sane. and super shoutout to my love @shoutogepi bc she’s been my hype lady! i hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations because wow has it been a wild ride ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Shouto’s feet are trudging through the proverbial thick of life.

His ankles twist the further he tries to advance, and with every step forward, another tragedy breaks the fragility of the glass box he now lives in. The etching begins at the center, spreading out into cracks like lightning, threatening to shatter what remains of the clear cage.

And yet, Shouto must put on the mask, he must pretend that everything is fine when in fact he really would rather crumble to the floor with his hands in his hair. There are nights when he presses his palms into his temples, wishing and praying that someone out there might be listening so they can help him to will away the painful throbbing between his eyes. He can’t whimper, can’t make a sound, because if he does, if he withdraws the curtain and allows the world to know how inundated he truly is, then it will all be for naught.

“Daddy?”

Shouto blinks harshly to bring himself out of the vortex of his trepid thoughts, “Hey, love, what are you doing awake?”

Her teetering body scrambles into the room, pawing at the bedsheets as a broken sob parts her lips and shakes her chest. Shouto leans down to tuck his hands under her armpits, jolting her upward so she’s pressed into his chest. Her small hands grip onto the skin of his pectorals, thin fingernails scraping at his flesh. Shouto winces, but cradles her around the back regardless, the warmth of her heated cheek on his collarbone alarming.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asks, soothing one of his hands through her hair while the other rests splayed against her back, dipping gently to try and ease her crying. She doesn’t answer, hiccupping cries making her whole body shake as she clutches onto him.

“Hey,” Shouto presses his lips to the crown of her head before coaxing her head backward. He tucks his thumb underneath her chin, “Talk to me.”

The little girl’s lower lip is wobbling, eyes doe-like and full of tears, thick white eyelashes dense with the little saltine droplets. She palms at Shouto’s face with one hand, seeming ancient when she whispers, “Why did they take mommy from me?”

And just like that, the glass box shatters.

Shouto feels the explosion, but maintains his composure regardless of the impact. Shards lodge into his throat and lungs, painful twinges jutting into his insides. His voice feels jagged when he speaks next, grating against his esophagus and tongue, “Sometimes the world just isn’t fair, love. I wish I had a better answer for you, but there’s not always a perfect explanation.”

Her bejeweled turquoise eyes behold him, thumbs against his mouth as she stares up at him. Glassy irises are blown wide by frightened pupils, “I miss her.”

She collapses back into him like a star shattering in the galaxy, explosive tears dripping down his chest as she tremors. The implosion of her life plays before him in the form of an empty half of the bed, a bare side of the bathroom, and a nightstand still left unembellished despite having been there for almost two years.

“I miss her too,” Shouto murmurs into the child’s silvery hair.

If he sheds a few silent tears of his own, she does not admonish him for it, instead laying quietly until her tears and shaking sobs have exhausted her tiny body. Her lips part and she begins to drool into the pocket of his collarbone, hands twitching against his chest.

A gentle melody vibrates Shouto’s lungs as he rolls himself to the side, carefully displacing her from his body to the empty half of the bed. The toddler grabs for him as soon as the warmth of his body disappears, and Shouto focuses all of his energy into regulating the warmth of his left side. He brushes his thumb over her cheek, pushing her silken hair from her mouth so it does not stick with her drool.

He chuckles, tucking her locks behind her ear, cupping her cheek with his warm palm, “Good night, Hana.”

The only acknowledgement he receives is a gentle snore that flares her nostrils and expands her chest, small body only looking tinier in the large expanse of the king-sized bed. Shouto lies there in wonder, his heated hand keeping in contact with her body until she halts her shivering.

How did I get so lucky? He thinks to himself, the threat of tears pressing intensely against the backs of his eyelids. He can’t close them, though, because he’s afraid he might miss a moment of his daughter’s sorrow.

Shouto leans forward to press a kiss to her furrowed brow, the familiar weight of his lips on her head giving her the comfort she needs to release the tension in her sleep. Her expression mellows, the crinkles in her forehead smoothing until she looks something akin to peaceful, ethereal.

The last thing Shouto sees before his mind succumbs to the lure of unconsciousness is her silvery hair glistening in the moonlight of the bedroom, her tiny palm wrapped around his index finger, clutching on like he were her lifeline.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I can handle this on my own.”

“This isn’t just another assignment. This is your daughter, Shouto.”

His nostrils flare, “Yeah, and?”

Fuyumi rolls her eyes, containing herself by taking a deep breath through the nose. Shouto’s eyes wander as Hana teeters around the kitchen with a few crayons and a plush rabbit.

“There’s no reason to keep yourself from admitting you need help, Shouto,” Fuyumi grits her teeth and attempts to appear somehow cheerful, even if just for Hana’s sake. She flexes her jaw, “This is an insanely large house, brother. You could use the extra hands.”

Shouto narrows his eyes, the scar over his left side appearing even more intimidating when his expression shifts, “You’re not moving in here, ‘Umi. I’ll figure something else out.”

His sister runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head as she turns her attention to the toddler bobbing her head to an invisible jukebox as she colors another page in her book. Fuyumi licks her lips, “Listen, will you at least call her? She’s great with kids, and she’s between jobs right now. It could at least turn into a short-term benefit for the both of you.”

After a moment of aggressive silence, Shouto nods. He decides, internally, that his agreement is purely out of the recognition that it will force his sister to let the topic rest.

“I’ll call her.”

“Thank you,” Fuyumi’s chest deflates, releasing a pent-up breath she had been holding in unexpectedly. She sifts her fingers through Hana’s hair, thumbing at her ear gingerly, “I know you hate that I loom over you like another mother, but I just want to make sure that you’re both taken care of.”

Shouto’s expression softens, eyes turning from jeweled beads to something more pliable. His chest tightens at her admission, the reality of their situation doing nothing to lighten the burden on his shoulders. He takes a step towards his sister, praying she can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, “I’ll be okay, ‘Umi. I promise.”

Fuyumi allows herself a moment to take in the sight of Shouto’s twenty-one month old child, watching as she scribbles her crayons onto the coloring book in front of her with as much precision as she can muster. A somber smile tugs on her lips and she sighs, closing her eyes as she readjusts her glasses, “I just worry about you, is all. Taking over a large agency is a lot of work, especially with the added pressure of being a good father.”

“I will be a good father,” Shouto is quick to refute her lofty accusations, the intensity of his voice causing Hana to turn her attention from her book to her father. He narrows his eyes at his sister, “I won’t turn out like dad.”

Holding her hands up in mock-surrender, Fuyumi takes a step back, “I know, Shouto. Trust me, I know.” Her eyes are wide and Shouto feels fear grip his spine like a cold shadow, curling up into him and suffocating his throat. He wants to gasp but he cannot show weakness, not now. Fuyumi inhales a short breath, “You’re the furthest thing from our father. Which is why I think you should seriously consider reaching out, getting another pair of hands on deck.”

Shouto considers her, tilting his head. The implications that his ability at caring for his daughter makes his chest constrict, heart aching in a way he’s never felt before. His eyes dart downward, catching on the silver hair of his child as she sits on the floor, grubby hands gripping at crayons while she smears color all over the pages of her book.

“I’ll call her,” he repeats his words from earlier. “I will.”

Fuyumi reaches out to take her brother into a hug, breathing her peaceful nature onto him like a ghost begging to infiltrate his body. Shouto takes a long drag, lips parted when he wraps his arms around his sister’s smaller frame.

As his sister is leaving, Hana’s eyes focus on the door. Todoroki can’t help himself wonder for a moment if she believes that someone else might come walking back across the threshold, if only she were to look at just the perfect moment. The sun shines on Fuyumi’s figure, forcing a silhouette onto the floorboards of the entryway. If he were to squint the right way, it’s possible he could see her outline there, darkness shaped by the light.

Shouto must bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mind still.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Later that evening, when Shouto has his daughter resting in the crook of his arm, an educational children’s program playing on the television for background noise, he pulls his phone from his pocket to sift through text messages and emails. There are dozens of alerts to sort through, but the one thing his fingers keep returning to is the sight of your contact information in a message forwarded to him by his sister.

If you are every as bit as wonderful and kind as Fuyumi says you are, then Shouto is frightened of what you are capable of, based on your resume and photograph alone.

Not only do you have a stunning personality – caring, gentle, organized – but you have a beautiful outward appearance as well. Shouto notices the curve of your lips, the structure of your jaw and cheeks, and the way your eyes lilt upward at the camera.

The one thing Shouto hates the most about himself, the very being engrained within him to emulate, is that he was brought up worrying about these different kinds of things – the anatomy of a potential candidate.

It’s the Todoroki within him, the lurking presence of his father threatening to stifle his breathing, to suffocate him until Enji is the only glowing ember left in his charred, desolate soul. Shouto sits in the dark, the looming reality that he may very well end up exactly like his father forcing him to press the little green button at the bottom of the screen.

You pick up on the second ring, “Hello?”

“H-Hi there,” Shouto’s voice sticks in his throat.

A gentle laugh from the other end of the line makes his heart stop beating within the confines of his chest, “What can I do for you?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Shouto has never been so worried about the interior design of his house before.

He realizes suddenly that there are no photographs on the walls, no pictures hanging to tell the sad tale of his life story. The recognition of this little detail only further throws him into a darkness he knows he won’t ever be able to fully crawl out of. Every day he must fight this beast, this unseen presence that sits on his shoulders, forcing him to carry the burden. He’s never wanted to tell his life story, not with the way it played out, especially not now.

Abusive father. Hospitalized mother. Deceased wife.

When the doorbell rings, he pulls himself from his stupor to step forward into the foyer. Shouto takes a deep breath and curls his toes into the rug to ground his body as he turns the doorknob. It’s as if the door stands for something much weightier, a distance currently built between you and him, something he can control.

But when the heavy door gives way to the sunshine outside, your body casting an elongated shadow on the hardwood, Shouto’s ankles lock and his fingers still against metal.

“Todoroki Shouto?”

The sound of your voice, completely unadulterated from the natural static of a phone, makes Shouto’s head spin. He nods, swallowing so hard his throat bobs, “Yes, please come in.”

You kick your shoes off as soon as you step across the threshold, tucking them to the side near the other pairs of dress shoes and sneakers accompanied by little ballerina slip-ons and tiny formal shoes. He notices the way your eyes linger on the pink ballerina slippers that aren’t really shoes at all, more like glorified socks, and he has to hold back a chuckle.

Shouto raises his hand in a greeting, kicking the door closed with his ankle as he turns to face you, “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I appreciate you interviewing me,” you answer him, reaching forward to meet his handshake. You’re grinning when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks round with your smile. “I know that your schedule is very hectic.”

Shouto can’t think about it too much or it makes his brain throb within his skull. He grits his teeth, “Yes, my assistant was able to push out a few other unimportant meetings for this. I do apologize, but my daughter is currently with my sister. I thought it may be best for us to meet first and then decide if it will be a good fit before we introduce her into the situation.”

“I can respect that.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your waist as you stand in front of him. The surprising warmth from his hand sits with you, palm tingling even as it’s tucked between your body. A nervous laugh parts your lips as your feet shuffle, “I wouldn’t want to get too attached to her if you didn’t like me.”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes darting to his toes, “Oh, it’s not you I would be afraid of being incompatible. Hana can be very picky.”

Your thumbs dig into your biceps, rolling your lips together as you consider your reply. A soft padding forward of your feet on the dense rug makes little sound, but still breaks Todoroki’s gaze from the floor.

“You’d be surprised,” your left eye dropping in a wink. “I have quite the effect on people. Especially those who stand three feet and shorter.”

He is shocked to find himself grinning at your jesting remark, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shuffles a step backward from you. You tilt your head, eyes washing over his tall frame, “I’ve been doing this a long time, Mr. Todoroki. Usually children are withdrawn from their caretakers because they fear we’re trying to replace someone more important in their lives.”

You are closer to him now as you stride across the tile. Todoroki feels his chest constrict when you speak, “I’m not here to be anything more than supplemental. You set the boundaries, Mr. Todoroki, and those are what I will abide by without a shadow of a doubt. I’m here to do as much or as little as you need of me.”

It takes him a moment to recuperate, faltering before he replies, “I appreciate that. I-I’ve never done this before. I wasn’t planning on it.”

Shouto notices the way you visibly shrink away from him, understanding the subliminal tones in his words. He holds a hand in the air, palm face-up, “No, that’s not, I just-”

A sigh parts his lips and he looks back down at his feet, but you’re careening forward to save the day before he can dig himself further into a hole he’s already drowning in. You chuckle, “I don’t think many people choose to have children only to set them into the hands of a nanny, Mr. Todoroki. You needed help, that much is clear, and I don’t blame you for reaching out. I think being able to push through your pride and do what is best for your child is not something you should be ashamed of.”

Oh yes, Todoroki thinks to himself with a smirk on his lips, hand outstretched towards you again, He’s going to like you just fine.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

You did not imagine your initial meeting with Todoroki Hana to go like this.

Shouto’s voice is mildly frantic on the other line, which is telling in it of itself. Even upon your first meeting, you knew that he was to be a mild-mannered, easy-going man. He does not seem to be a person who is easily upset by much, so the lilt in his voice is a clear indicator to his mood.

“It’s okay,” you try to remain calm in spite of his fear, praying that your clear head can help him to unwind. “I’m sure she’s fine, Mr. Todoroki. I’m already in the car, on the way to the daycare right now. I’ll go pick her up and call you as soon as I have my eyes on her.”

A breath is exhaled from the other end of the receiver, and you can imagine the way his chest deflates at your words. You smile to yourself, phone pressed to your ear as you drive down the highway, “It will only take me twenty minutes. Until then, try to keep yourself busy, okay?”

The two of you exchange pleasantries before you close your phone, slipping it back underneath your thigh before focusing on the road again. You were thankful that Shouto had already installed a car seat into back row, allowing you to go pick up Hana without having to do too much extra preparation.

Driving to the daycare facility takes eighteen minutes on one stretch of highway. You feel your palms sweat the entire way, recalling Todoroki’s words about Hana’s injuries she sustained on the playground not very long ago. The tremor in his voice sent a jolt down your spine, your bones rattling around in your body as you imagine the dozens of different cuts or gashes she might have on her body.

And then there’s the reality that this will be the first time you ever lay eyes on Todoroki Hana. It will be your reckoning day, the deciding moment of happenstance when she makes the choice of whether or not you are worthy of her acceptance.

You park and walk into the building, your eyes wavering over the entire intricate structure. It’s a formation of pillars and high roofing, accented with filigree of metal curved into beautiful shapes. The price point of this facility does not go over your head, given the marble pillars look genuine, smooth and rounded in all the right places. You run your fingertips over the cool stone as you walk to the thick, mahogany door. The doorknob is sparkling gold, as if someone polished it when they saw you park.

All the details wrapped into a pristine package ease your mind about the salary that Todoroki Shouto is paying you. Originally, you’d wanted to fight him on it, but you acquiesced into silence after taking note of his watch and the name brand of his suit jacket.

Your hand shoves at the front door, weighted and dense, and you step up to the front desk. Resting your forearms on the top of the divider, you smile down at her, “Hi, I’m here to pick up Todoroki Hana.”

It’s clear this woman has never seen you before by the way her eyes gawk over your appearance. You may not be dressed as pristinely as she might like, but you still look rather presentable, given the time restraints you were under to come pick up the young girl.

She tilts her head as if considering you like prey before grabbing up the phone on her desk, muttering a few words into the receiver. As she hangs up, she holds out a clipboard, “We’ll need a copy of your ID. Mr. Todoroki called ahead to let us know you’d be coming, but we’d just like confirmation. For Hana’s safety.”

It all makes sense, and is rather sound policy, but the curl of her lips when she says it forces a vat of acid into your stomach. You swallow your retort that is sitting on your tongue like a knife and gently take the board from her hand.

As you’re filling out the paperwork, the sound of little footsteps starts down the hallway. You tilt your head, pen stilled in your grip, awaiting what feels like your very own doomsday. This little almost two-year-old holds your fate in her tiny, grubby hands.

You stand and replace the clipboard onto the front desk, sliding your ID along with it. Turning your head, you await the arrival of your own two-foot-tall guillotine. You twist your hands together, knuckles wrung out white as you wait for Hana to approach the curve of the hallway and seal your fate. You know you should not be this anxious over a child who has just broken into real sneakers, but the rational part of you never wins out in these kinds of situations.

Todoroki Shouto is paying you something on the upside of expensive, offering you a generous starting bonus in addition to your typical pay so you could start working earlier than expected and still make your rent payments without worry. It would be a shame to lose that thick paycheck just because you could not win over a teetering toddler who probably babbles about princesses and the color purple most of the day.

“Hana, it looks like your-”

“Nanny,” you interject as you hear the voice echoing down the hall, attempting to avoid any confusion if possible. You brush your thighs free of any imaginary dust and crumbs so you can hide the shaking of your joints, “I work for Mr. Todoroki.”

When they finally round the corner, you stop breathing.

The little girl standing in front of you cannot be much over two feet tall, bright blue eyes shining as she drinks you in apprehensively. Her pupils shrink the closer she gets, bejeweled eyes swallowed by the inkiness. Her hands fidget at her sides while she stutter-steps towards you. The long locks of pale, silver hair reach midway down her back, the curled tips giving her an almost doll-like appearance with their perfection. Her full lips are drawn inward, tentative, much like her father.

And there, covering her right eye, a gauze bandage attempting to staunch and protect a wound.

You cannot help the way your eyes widen at the sight of her injured face, your hands ready to snag her up and race her to the nearest emergency room. Todoroki hadn’t told you the extent of her injuries, just that she had an accident on the playground, and someone needed to pick her up immediately.

“Hi Hana,” you squat down so you can appear to her at eye-level, an effort to put her at ease. “Your daddy heard you took a fall outside with your friends and he wanted me to come pick you up. Are you okay?”

She has obviously been crying, cheeks dark red and swollen, her visible eye puffy from tears. Your inner nature is telling you to reach out and comfort her, taking her by the hand and drawing her up into your arms to give her a gentle squeeze. But you know that there is a time and place and threshold for each form of affection, so you withdraw.

“How bad is it?” You turn your gaze upward, calves screaming as you shift your weight. You seek out the eyes of her teacher, trying to gauge your reaction based on her body language, “It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding too much now, and she’s rather calm. Was her eye directly injured?”

“No, it’s just around the orbital,” her teacher runs fingertips through Hana’s hair, “I don’t think she’ll need stitches, but she will definitely need this wound cleaned up by a professional. I know Mr. Todoroki has a nurse he usually calls.”

It’s as if these women are trying to suffocate you with their knowledge of Todoroki, almost like them knowing he has a nurse, or not knowing he’d hired you until today, would win them some sort of award or accolade. You try your best not to let your stomach turn at the sight of them, desperate and petty.

“Hana?”

She tilts her head up at you, another round of tears welling up in her eyelids. You wonder if it is from stress, pain, or a mixture of that and the uncomfortable feeling she can sense from the way you’re interacting with the daycare staff. She sniffles and wipes her face with the back of her forearm, careful of her injured eye, “Y-Yes ma’am?”

So Shouto has taught her manners.

You attempt to keep your composure at the sound of her tinny, trepid voice echoing out the words that are normally rare for even full-grown adults to use. In reaching out your hand, you notice she does not shrink away from you, not this time, “I think we ought to go have that nurse of your dad’s check out your eye, what do you think?”

There is silence for a moment, genuine concern evident in her sparkling irises. She blinks quickly, like she is trying to figure you out before she makes her decision in response to your question. You don’t want to clue her in to the fact that, at the end of the day, it’s not really her choice to make – that plight between staying here and going somewhere else has been completely left up to you.

“You know,” you’re whispering now, dramatically hiding your mouth behind the palm of your hand, pretending that that others standing around can’t hear you. “I think that I saw this cool ice cream shop on the way here. You think you could help me try a new flavor?”

This makes her eyes widen, pushing herself up on her tiptoes as she fails to contain her excitement at the suggestion of a sugary treat, “Wh-What flavor?”

You grin, warmth seeping into your chest as a giggle bubbles up in her throat, “I was thinking bubblegum, or maybe cotton candy?”

Hana’s nose scrunches at the suggestion, “No way!”

“Well,” you stand to your full height, hands on your hips as you pout, “what would you rather have then?”

She is full-on smiling now, cheeks drawn upward so her dimples can dip into her cheeks on either side, “I like mint w-with choco-chips in it!”

You hold your hand out again, praying that now, after divulging your favorite ice cream flavors, she won’t totally reject you. The last thing you want is for her to force your hand in making a decision to pick her up and take her out of the daycare.

Hana pushes herself up and down on her toes, biting her lip before bursting with a smile, “Y-You really mean it?! Ice cream?”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug, wriggling your fingers as the other women watch on in amazement as your connection to the child. “I think you deserve it after that nasty fall you took.”

Bouncing towards you, Hana bobs into the air by pushing upward on the balls of her feet. She reaches out and snags your hand into her grip of her own accord, before beginning to tug you to the exit. She is babbling on about all of the ice cream flavors she’s tried, and what they taste like, and the last time she had ice cream was oh so long ago…

“See you later, ladies,” you wave over your shoulder, unable to hide the satisfied smirk making your mouth crooked, “I guess we’re going to get ice cream.”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Hana knows how to buckle herself in, so she’s already clambering up into your car as soon as you have the door open. Her injury is completely forgotten as she bustles up into the seat, climbing in awkwardly before turning around to plop her backside into the curve of the cushions. Her fingers are frantic as she desperately tries to get the straps clicked together so you can be on your way to the nearest ice cream shop. You smile at her struggle, allowing her to settle with a pout before offering her your help.

“I-I can do it!” she insists, eyes misted. “I-I’m a big girl!”

“Oh, no doubt,” you shake your head in reassurance, pursing your lips as you hold your hands up in midair, palms facing her. “I’m just trying to help so we can get to our ice cream just a tad faster.”

Your reasoning seems to be sound, because Hana releases the offending buckle and puts her hands on either side of her car seat to give you enough room to maneuver and snap the contraption in place. Your hands make swift work of the buckles and straps, tightening them to the perfect spot on her chest and hips. She smiles up at you when you’re finished, expectant and excited.

It is strange, the intense desire to protect her that immediately washes over you at first sight. You have to stop yourself from rushing into allowing her between the cracks of your heart. You are frantic to seal them so you can let yourself down easy if this job ends up being as short-term as you’re worried of it becoming.

You pull away from her, face blank, and shut the door as Hana begins to fiddle with the remaining length of the straps around her body. Her fingers swirl around the black fabric and plastic, tugging and pulling, but not hard enough to adjust any of your hard work.

On your way to the parlor, you decide to call Shouto.

“Daddy!”

A relieved sigh sounds from the other end of the receiver, and you can’t help the warmth that blooms in your belly when you grin. Shouto coughs thickly, clearing his throat, “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay!” Hana twirls her fingers in midair, watching around like Todoroki may appear out of thin air like his voice echoing in the car. “We’re going to get ice cream!”

“Ice cream?” his voice sounds slightly judgmental, but you try to push it off and pretend it means nothing. You spare a glance over your shoulder, “Tell him what flavor you’re getting, Hana.”

You pull into the drive through window of the ice cream shop, listening as Hana babbles on about the different flavors you two talked about and whether she’ll get a cone or a cup. You put the car in park as the person in front of you orders, swiveling your hips so you can look her in the eye, “I was actually thinking about a milkshake. How does that sound?”

“Ooh,” her eyes grow wider, chubby little hands curling into fists in her lap. She’s practically buzzing at just the thought of it all, “That sounds like fun!”

You chuckle, hand on the gearshift, “Oh, I meant to ask, have you already scheduled the nurse to be at the house? I wasn’t sure if you’d rather it be someone personal to look after her, or if you’d want me to take her to a general hospital.”

“I’ll call Masuyo and have her meet you at the house.” Todoroki’s voice is muffled as he turns to speak with someone else in his office, hand over the receiver. You hear him cough, voice tense, “S-She’s okay, though. Right?”

“I think she’s a strong girl,” you make your voice confident, straightening your spine, “she’ll be fine once we get her cleaned up. Right, Hana?”

You spare one final look at the little girl in the backseat, all bright eyes and buzzing fingertips. She’s already shuddering off of pure energy, and you wonder if sugar was really the best route to go down for her comfort. Either way, she nods her head, enthusiastic about what’s to come next.

“Yes!” She leans forward in her seat, getting closer to his voice, “I can’t wait until you get home, daddy. We’ll play prince and princess, right?”

You can sense the hesitation on Todoroki’s end and your heart turns to granite in your chest. When he speaks, you feel the weight of it settle in your belly, throat tightening.

“I’m not sure, love. I’ll have to see. It’s very busy this afternoon.”

Hana allows her expression to fall for a mere moment. You honestly would not have caught the change in her demeanor if it weren’t for you studying her as Shouto uttered the words. Every bit of enthusiasm that was previously holding her cheeks high is drained. Her face pales and her lips turn downward in a frown, eyes dropped to her hands as she fiddles with her knuckles in her lap.

And yet, almost as soon as she falters, her smile returns, albeit not enough to light up her eyes as it did before. It’s like she is reconstructing a mask that she feels pressured to wear in order to keep her father satiated and undisturbed.

“Oh, that’s okay, daddy,” Hana’s voice is as cheerful as her little strong will can force it to be. She attempts to be dismissive as she waves her hands, despite Shouto unable to see her, “I played princess at school anyway.”

Your heart continues to crack as she says her final line, “I love you, Daddy.”

Shouto exhales, voice breathy when he repeats the sentiment, “I love you more.”

“I love you most.” Hana’s tone lilts then, a crack in her metaphorical armor at his affections despite his absence. She swipes at her face and you wonder if she was crying, because you certainly didn’t see any tears.

Your throat grows thick with emotion, making it difficult for you to tell him goodbye. You roll down your window and rattle off your order, trying to keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye to monitor Hana’s mood and expressions as the moments progress. You feel horrible for intruding on their very personal, private moment, and it only makes your heart wrench more when you see Hana’s glazed eyes unable to focus on one thing in particular. She’s docile, void of emotion as she stares out of the window, watching clouds pass as the world grows darker with the threat of a sunset on the horizon.

You settle the milkshakes into the front seat, finishing up at the drive through window before rolling forward into a vacant parking space. With your foot still on the break, you reach back to hand Hana the small milkshake cup with the straw already pushed through the opening on the lid, “There you go.”

She takes it from you gingerly, small palms wrapping around as much of the cup circumference as she possibly can. Her lips are pouted just enough that you wonder if she’ll take a sip at all. You busy yourself, pretending to clean up trash in the front seat and maneuver things around on the floorboards, waiting on her first drag from the ice cream cup.

But it never comes.

After five minutes of waiting, you press your hand to the passenger’s side headrest and look her in the eye – as much of her pupils that you can catch in spite of her hooded lids. Hana is still dazed, looking into her milkshake cup as if it might have the answers to all of her life’s confusing questions.

“Hana?” Your voice calls her from whatever lull she was in, eyes blinking slow as she connects back to this version of reality. A vague, “Yes?” is uttered from her lips, but she isn’t focused, not just yet. You brush your hand against the top of her knee, quick and gentle, and it does the trick. She blinks one final time before her pupils dilate back to their usual size, gaze settled clearly on your face.

“Did something upset you?” you ask, your hand wrung around the headrest again. “Or do you just not want your milkshake?”

“I dunno,” Hana admits quickly, eyes downturned once she realizes she’s let the emotion slip from her voice. It makes the edges of her words raw and ragged, “I guess I just don’ wan’ it anymore.”

You are persistent; your job is to make her happy and keep her safe, and right now with a milkshake melting in her lap, part of you feels like you’re failing.

“Was it what your dad said?” Your question is asked in a low tone, something you’re trying to use to convey that you are being patient and kind. You take a chance and rest your palm against the car seat armrest, close enough to make contact but not adjacent enough to infringe upon her personal space. You swallow thickly, taking a short breath, “About not being home to play?”

Hana is pinching the straw between her fingers, looking into the little opening as it closes with the squeeze of her fingers. You wonder if she does this often, with tangible objects. Does she ache to control something so much so that she becomes lost in the euphoria of it all?

She sighs, kicking her feet, “Daddy is just always working. It makes me sad sometimes.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, not really. If you had known her for longer, or met Todoroki some other way, you could likely refute her statement. However, there’s truth in what she’s saying, a vulnerability that you weren’t sure you would see from the child so soon.

When she speaks next, Hana reminds you of a full-grown woman, attempting to redirect the conversation from something personal to something vague, “What’id you get?”

Her voice sounds like an echo of her true self, nothing like the way her tone lilted when she first spoke with her father. There is a seemingly eerie mask she has perfected, something both audible and emotional. And it would appear she knows just how to slip it on and off when the time is right, despite her young age.

Then and there you choose to burden yourself with the purpose of breaking her out of her glass box of entrapment.

“I got cookie dough,” you say as you take an over-dramatic sip, crossing your eyes at the sensation of cool ice cream flowing down your throat, “What did you get?”

Her face scrunches inward, nose wrinkling at the bridge, “Y-You know what I got, don’ you? You ordered it for me!”

You make an exaggerated face of confusion, tilting your head backward and tapping your fingertip against your chin. “Hmm,” you nod, agreeing with her accusation, “I guess you’re right, huh?”

“You’re silly,” Hana giggles before going in for her first sip of her milkshake. Her eyes are narrowed downward at the cup, hands cradling it carefully as if it were the most important thing in the world and she might be in danger of spilling it at any moment. Her eyes are wide, doe-like in nature, as she comes up for air, “This is good!”

“Great,” you answer her, switching the gearshift back into drive so you can pull out of the parking lot and out onto the highway to head back to their house.

The remainder of the drive back to the Todoroki residence is spent in moderate silence, gentle music playing on the radio as Hana preoccupies herself with licking every last drop of her milkshake from the straw. She sucks the mint chocolate chip ice cream from her thumb and looks up at you when you park the car in the driveway, “We’re home?”

You unbuckle yourself from your seat and answer her, hopping down from the car to open her door. She’s already working at her buckles, undone the top half, but still struggling with the bottom. By the time you’ve gotten her undone from the chair, she trusts you enough to reach out her arms and ask for you to help her down to the ground so she does not have to clamber down and risk falling onto the concrete.

When the soles of her shoes hit the concrete, she’s reaching up for you, grabbing you around your fingertips to hold on as she walks. You squeeze her hand gently, fishing the keys out with one hand to unlock the door.

The nurse is already inside, set up on the couch. Hana runs straight to her, plopping herself unceremoniously down on the furniture, hand hovering over the patch as she talks with Masuyo about her ice cream experience from just moments ago.

You busy yourself with dinner, prepping meat and vegetables, as Masuyo starts to clean and treat Hana’s wound. It’s another thirty minutes before you start to sear meat on the stovetop when you hear the garage door rattle open unexpectedly. Todoroki shouldn’t be home until later this evening, he texted you after you’d been in line for ice cream to tell you as such.

And yet, when the door opens to reveal his familiar frame, you can’t help the way your jaw unhinges.

“You’re home early,” you mention, flipping the steak pieces in the pan to sear the other side. “Everything okay?”

Todoroki is stunned by how grossly domestic the sight of you in his kitchen is and he’s jarred back into his prior lifetime where he had the full family package. He blinks and takes a short breath, forcing himself away from the swirling blackhole of the past to smile at you, “Yes, well. I decided that my daughter’s health was more important than some paperwork. I had a few of the first-years handle it.”

That is how it starts. Your first day as the new nanny of the Todoroki household.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Are you sure you got the right color plates?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the cake?”

“Ordered it three weeks ago.”

“How about the-”

“Shouto.”

He turns to look you in the eyes, breath frantic, “What?”

You can’t help but laugh at the wide-eyed expression he wears, all of his emotions blatantly displayed on his face. You take a step toward him, reaching out to cup his elbow, “I’ve got it all handled, okay? Her birthday party isn’t for another week, Shouto. Are you ready for the zoo?”

Todoroki hesitates, gritting his teeth together so harshly that you can see the muscles in his jaw quiver. He turns his palm to press flat against your forearm, heterochromatic gaze seeking you out for some sort of comfort, “Did you need me to pack the bag?”

“No,” you chuckle, forcing yourself to remove your body from his grasp by walking back to the sink to finish up the load of dirty dishes you wanted to get into the wash before you left. You tilt your head to look across the bar at him, “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

Hana comes careening down the hallway, a doll in either hand, her pajamas still crooked on her body. She giggles, bouncing on the balls of her feet before launching herself forward to latch around Todoroki’s calf like an animal, “Daddy!”

Shouto bends at the waist to pluck her up, hands careful under her armpits when he tucks her into his side, “Yes, love, I’m going to the zoo. But it looks like you need a change of clothes.”

“I already laid some out on her dresser,” you pipe up from behind the sink, “but you’ll need to spray her down with sunscreen first, it’s not very cloudy outside today.”

As Shouto turns to walk Hana back to her room, you allow your gaze to linger a moment longer than the ordinary. Ever since you first took this job, you could note Todoroki’s beautifully carved body and stellar facial features. He is built perfectly for the type of Pro Hero that he is – thick muscles wrapped around dense bones, and yet still a relatively lean frame to hold it all into place. Shouto’s face is cut sharp at the jawline, cheekbones stark against his skin. You are sure to admire him whenever you can.

When you hear him and his daughter talking, sharing words and laughs, it only adds to the flame that burns in your belly at the thought of Todoroki Shouto.

There is no doubt in your mind that it is improper to feel the way you do about a client. They should be nothing more than a paycheck and a steppingstone, and yet somehow you have found a way to allow Shouto to wind his pristine claws into you. He’s got you by the heart and it has only been a few months.

You force your hands to work at the dishes, cleaning what remains so you can start the dishwasher. After you’re done, you make your way upstairs towards Hana’s room, where you hear various grunting noises.

A laugh threatens to part your lips and give away your spying secret when you notice Shouto frantically trying to pull the shirt you picked out over the top of Hana’s head. Her arms are stuck in the wrong spots and you can already tell that it’s somehow inside out, but none of that pushes you to step forward and take over.

It’s only when Hana spots you spying in the doorway that you’re coerced into treading into her bedroom. She pouts and Todoroki doesn’t look much happier. He chuckles, “I swear I’m better at this than I look.”

“Oh, I know you’re helpless,” you smirk across at him, squatting in front of Hana to help untangle her from the clothes and put her back in right side up. Her little hands grab for your face, squeezing your cheeks as she surges forward to kiss your nose, “Daddy is helpless, isn’t he?”

You are too busy fussing over Hana’s hair to notice the way that Todoroki drinks you in like he has been parched for years. He cannot stop himself from memorizing the color of your irises, the slope of your nose, the bow of your lips.

The reality that he could even be attracted to you is lost on him – he swore after his wife died that he would never find another woman to replace her. You have only been here a few short weeks and he’s already begun to question his earlier statement.

It’s just the way she is with Hana, he tries to convince himself. I am kidding myself into believing she’s here for us, not just because it’s a job.

And yet, when his gaze connects to yours, Hana babbling about lions and tigers as you slather her down with sunscreen, Todoroki swears that he feels something different.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The day of Hana’s party comes quicker than expected.

You’re frantically spinning around, making sure there is enough food and drink for everyone in addition to trying to keep an eye on the children as they play around on the various structures setup outside.

A group of moms gather at the bar, one of them urging the others to look at you with a sinister lilt in their gaze. You continue to serve everyone at the party, filling drinks, bringing new plates of food, and yet their eyes never waver from you.

When you are cleaning up some stray garbage in the kitchen, the blonde woman near the end of the bar perks up, “Excuse me, nanny, would you mind filling my glass?”

It is like the floodgates have opened, and now they are all asking you for favors. You swallow your pride and do as they say whether that’s food or drink or a new napkin or even cleaning up their garbage. They are all gossiping behind their hands, palms raised to their mouths as if that will do anything to staunch the flow of the conversation, or even make it more difficult for you to hear the way they speak of you.

Your pride takes each hit in stride, attempting to roll the insults off your shoulders while you tend to them kindly. It takes Shouto stepping into the kitchen for your face to falter.

You gaze across the room at him and your strong façade falls away, hands shaking by your sides as you look at the floor in shame. You swallow your self-importance and build your walls back to their full height before looking up at him once more.

Todoroki is fuming, to put it nicely.

His hands are curled into fists, knuckles white and cheeks hot at the sight of your unease. He takes a few strides forward, features softening as he reaches out to press his fingertips into the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His breath is warm, spilling down your spine like molten lava, pooling the heat in your belly and turning your insides to mush. The expanse of his palm splays against your back, the plane of his chest flush with your arm when he stands too close.

You take a short breath, unable to get enough oxygen with him crowding your space like this. It is like he’s thinning the air within a few feet of his body, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’m fine,” your voice is high and thick, nostrils flaring when you make eye contact with one of the women at the bar. She is smirking proudly, head tilted so she can look down her nose at you. You swallow the shards of emotion sticking in your throat and look up at Todoroki, confused at the fury held in his irises, darkening them both so they look almost the same color as his pupils.

He turns and you watch in slow motion as his jaw hinges open, anxiety gripping your throat tightly. Your body moves before your mind can catch up; you shift your feet, so your hips are in front of him, hands palming against his pectorals to bring his attention down to you.

You tug on the fabric of his shirt, breathlessly calling to him, “Shouto.”

Todoroki turns his eyes downward, jawline quivering just enough for you to see at this close of an angle. He is intoxicating, the combination of his cologne and his body heat sending your mind spinning. You lick your lips and his eyes track the motion, turning butterflies over in your belly, their gentle wings brushing the insides of your body delicately, enough to tickle.

“Shouto,” you mumble his name again. “S’okay, alright?”

The sound of barstools scraping the floor signifies the judgmental women taking their leave, and your chest deflates at the change in atmosphere. Your hands go slack against Shouto’s chest, head falling forward to rest against his collarbone.

When his hands brush your hips, you snap your eyes upward, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze. Shouto grinds his teeth together before speaking, “I’m sorry they were bossing you around. You’re not here to take care of them.”

“It’s okay, really,” you pat your hand on his chest as if solidifying your statement, smiling enough to sell it.

His thumb grazes the hem of your shirt, fingertip slipping beneath the fabric to brush against your skin. Your breath hitches and every instinct within you tells you to push yourself up on your toes and grab his shirt in your tight fists, but when you’re eye-to-eye with him, you wish you wouldn’t have listened.

You can feel his stuttering breath on the bow of your lip, and it makes your shoulders quiver. Your name is whispered between his teeth and suddenly he is too close, so close that you’re intoxicated, and every inhibition of yours has been forgotten like dust in the wind.

“Daddy!”

The sound of her voice breaks you apart, stumbling like teenagers caught underneath the bleachers. Todoroki turns to Hana, tending to her face with a napkin and listening to her sugar-driven babbling. You take the moment to slip past them and back to the outdoor area where everyone is gathered.

For the remainder of the night, you feel Todoroki’s eyes on you, following your movements as you maneuver throughout the guests, offering them refills and to take their garbage. He cannot help but feel the heat incinerating his body from all sides, not just his left. The sensation is strange, the ice on his right side usually taking over any and all feeling he might have.

It feels foreign, but not unpleasant. Todoroki’s neck prickles at the impending awareness that he might be in for a crude awakening soon.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The next few months are a breeze.

Until they are not.

Todoroki has begun to spend more time at work and less at home with each passing day. The threat of his job creeping over him like a looming dark shadow, slowly engulfing him inch by inch until he is surrounded entirely. He spends his days fighting crime, and nights doing paperwork.

You are slowly starting to spend more and more time at the Todoroki house – you are now expected to arrive around five in the morning, and sometimes you do not leave until nine in the evening. It is exhausting, given your drive back to your apartment is a half-hour on a good day with little traffic.

Somehow, you have been able to keep Hana satiated, even without her father around. There are fleeting moments where her cheery expression falters and she sheds a few tears, but you are there to wrap her up in your arms and let her cry until she has nothing left. And then, after she’s dried her face on your shirt, she looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes and begs you to play princess.

One night, when you are half asleep on the couch with Hana curled into your arms, you feel a palm press to your shoulder, “I’m home.”

You blink blearily, a short jolt of breath stinging your lungs. You swallow and look to the right of you where Todoroki is squatted beside you. He is smiling; you can tell, even in the darkness.

“Hey,” you whisper, careful to cradle Hana’s head as you sit up. “Sorry, it’s been an eventful day.”

Shouto shakes his head and helps you to your feet, palms finding any juncture of you that he can use to support your body. His hand is against your elbow when he speaks next, “No, I’m sorry. I should have been home hours ago. I know you were making dinner.”

“I make dinner every night,” a laugh parts your lips and you run your fingers through Hana’s hair to try and keep her asleep despite the noise. “So, it’s nothing new, Todoroki. Let me go put her down and I’ll head out.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but his jaw snaps shut before he can let out whatever secret he is harboring. You disregard it, walking upstairs to tuck Hana in for bed. She stirs but does not wake entirely and you are thankful. The day has already been tumultuous enough without having to sing her back to sleep or stay up any longer.

As you are walking down the steps, you’re surprised to find Shouto pacing in the hallway, his thumb pinching his chin and his brow furrowed harshly. He looks rather intensely conflicted, and there is a moment where you’re worried, he may decide to fire you. Could you have done something wrong with Hana? Did she not like you? Was he upset that you let her have chocolate before noon the other day?

“Shouto?” you call, padding forward, toes sifting through the carpet. “Is everything okay?”

Another yawn splits your lips and you cover it with your palm, apologizing through your teeth. He shakes his head and steps toward you with a palm outstretched, “Yes, everything is fine. I just have something I’d like to ask you.”

You tilt your head and it reminds him of a curious animal, sniffing him out for food in the form of information. Your hand rests on his bicep and it is dizzying to be this close to you, even after several months of working alongside you. His head still spins when you are too close.

“I was wondering if you might consider moving in.”

You blink dumbly, mouth parted so he can see the pad of your tongue and the tips of your canine teeth. Your fingertips graze against his arm and you feel like lightning is sparking at the cusp of your touch.

The reality is this is not far from normal – most full-time nannies do end up living with their families. It makes everything easier and cheaper. If you live there, he does not have to pay you for drive time, and your boarding costs can be directly deducted from your standard paycheck. This option is what makes the most sense, but you are not focused on sense right now.

All you can see is his bare torso.

You are imagining accidentally walking in on him after he’s taken a shower, or him stumbling in after his morning runs with his tiny running shorts and shirtless upper half. Your tongue goes dry at the thought of it all, but you force yourself to push words past your lips, so you won’t look like a dead fish.

“That’s a pretty permanent decision, Shouto.” Your words hold weight and he knows it, he’s thought this through a dozen different ways to Sunday. You swallow and when your hands brush over his skin, he swears sparks light beneath your fingertips; it makes his arm numb. “I don’t mind, but I just want to make sure that you’ve really thought this through.”

He nods, stepping closer so he’s almost flush with you now, “I feel awful having you drive so early and so late. Your hours would not change, your responsibilities wouldn’t change. You would have your own room and privacy, and I don’t expect to lessen your pay just because you live here. It’s just-”

“Shouto,” you’re laughing now, shaking your head as you look down at your toes, “I don’t expect everything to stay the same if I move in. I’m prepared, are you?”

Truly, he’s thought about that question far too much in the passing days when he sees you around the house or speaks with you on the phone during the day. The idea that you will be here every hour of every day is suffocating, but in a way that makes him want to drown. As time moves faster, Shouto realizes that you have become a second nature in his house. He is thinking of you during his office meetings and the late nights on patrol.

He cannot be honest with the true reason he is asking you to move in, because then he would have to face his emotions and he’s not ready for that yet. And yet, his body betrays his mind as he reaches forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, “I think I can handle it.”

Emotion swells like a blooming heat between the two of you, your bodies almost entirely pressed up against one another as your voices grow softer. You are not sure if it’s the sleep-muddled brain you’re working off of, but you swear that you see his eyes drop to your lips. There is some part of you that wants to fall into him, to let him take you and burn you and leave you for dead, but the rest of you is working off of sense and logic and you know that would never work.

“Well,” your voice shatters the fragile moment, “I guess I better get home and start packing.”

Shouto releases you and something shifts in his irises, but it is gone as soon as it appears, and you don’t have enough time to discern the emotion. You pluck up your bag and slip on your shoes, turning to wave at him over your shoulder as you step past the threshold and back to the garage.

As you start your car, you rest your forehead on the steering wheel before you pull out, and murmur to yourself in utter chagrin, “What have I just agreed to?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I’m telling you - Red Riot is going to give you a run for your money.”

“That blockhead?” Shouto chuckles, swirling his glass, “I doubt it.”

You tilt your head, “And what about Ground Zero? He’s got his own agency now, doesn’t he?”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “God, can we please leave Bakugou out of this conversation?”

Another swig of the rum and coke slides down your throat, burning in the best way. Your head feels hazy, but you don’t mind, taking advantage of Hana’s early bedtime for the first time in a few weeks. You push your mostly empty glass towards him, “Bartender?”

Todoroki smiles, tipping the bottle downward to refill your glass. You grab the soda off the countertop and fill it to the brim, swirling the mixture with your straw. Another gulp of the liquid has you asking, “You and the other big players all went to Yuuei together, right? Ground Zero, Deku, Red Riot?”

Shouto nods, “Yes, we did.”

“Wow, to have gone to Yuuei,” you whisper in wonder, eyes heavy as you look down into the dark liquid fizzing in your glass.

He leans forward on the counter, body close to you as he asks his obvious question, “You don’t have a quirk, do you?”

“No,” your answer is quick, curt. You swallow thickly, shards of shame sticking in your throat. “I was born without one. You’ve seen my shoes.”

You are referring to the wider shoes that those with no quirk have to wear thanks to the extra joint in their pinkie toes. You lift your foot up in the air for good measure, painted toenails catching the light just right as you wriggle your toes around dramatically. You sigh, “I didn’t fully know who you were when I took this job. It’s kind of embarrassing that I don’t have a quirk, and you’re some superhero saving people with ice and fire.”

Shouto holds out his left palm, face up, and ignites a small flame, “I hated this side of my body for so long. It comes with a burden I’m glad you do not have to bear.”

The weight in his voice entices your eyes upward, connecting with his gaze as the heat blossoms, sucking the oxygen out of the air. Shouto curls his fingers inward and cuts the flame short, a gentle wisp of smoke floating from his palm.

“What does it feel like?” you find yourself asking, the alcohol creating a dull buzz behind your eyes that latches onto all of your inhibitions and immediately tosses them away.

His breath hitches audibly, pupils dilating as he attempts to focus on something other than the way your lips bow when you speak. Shouto steps forward, hands gentle as he cups your cheeks, a bravery he did not know he could muster bolstering his movements. His fingertips tickle your skin and it’s difficult for you to keep your eyes open when he is holding you so tenderly.

Shouto closes his eyes in concentration, taking a deep breath before narrowing his concentration onto the pores of his hands. His palms are flush with your skin and you let your mind wander while he is working up his quirk.

How would his touch compare to different parts of your body?

Your eyes slip shut at the thought, biting your lip as your mind runs rampant. The heat curling in your belly reminds you of his quirk – burning and licking at your belly like a raging flame. You only wish you had his right side to cool you down from the inside out.

Slowly but surely, you feel the right side of your face grow warm while the left side has started to chill. Your eyes go wide, and you circle your fingers around his wrists, voice breathy when you speak, “Wow, Shouto, that’s amazing!”

Your voice goes quiet and it is like the world stops spinning when he opens his eyelids to look down at you. You feel frozen in your spot, but you know it isn’t his quirk affecting you. Your grip tightens but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyesight directed to your lips, zeroed in on the way that you gnaw at them when you’re nervous.

The tension is like a rubber band begging to snap. You feel the coil twirl around your spine, bunching you together and screaming at you to run away. There are a thousand different reasons why getting too close is dangerous, but your wanton body cannot be bothered to list them. Instead you are pushing yourself up in your seat, so your back is arched toward him, chest brushing his pectorals.

Shouto reminds you of something innocent when his mouth parts and irises glimmer beneath half-hooded lids. You feel distinctly profligate for envisaging his mouth on other parts of your body, the pink of his tongue peeking from behind pearly teeth doing little to quell your thoughts. You swallow thickly and shudder as his hand that produces cold shifts into your hair, rustling through the tresses at the nape of your neck.

Your hands are suddenly wrapped up in the fabric of his shirt, fisting the soft material, and you are pulling him towards you. Even so, it is Shouto who tilts your head upward, heels of his palms gently angling you by the cheeks.

The two of you take a breath before devouring one another whole.

His mouth tastes like whiskey, sharp and biting, but his tongue is in stark contrast to the flavor. He is gentle while still taking over your every sense. His tongue maps out the curves of your teeth and the pad of your tongue while his chilled palm keeps your skin from searing with blush.

The tenderness with which he holds onto you makes your heart rattle around within the cage you have built just for him. You knew this entire time that if he were to wriggle his way in, to touch your heart in just the right spot, you would crumble beneath his ministrations. This entire time you’ve been beholden to him, despite the utter denial you’ve been bathing in to hide the confession.

“Todoroki, I-”

Your voice is cut off by a blazing hand drifting beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers dipping against your spine, “I hate it when you call me that.”

Your eyes go wide but he’s enraptured you with another kiss square on the lips. Your words fall into the confines of his throat, never to be heard again as he swallows them into silence.

Hands are everywhere, so much so that you can’t tell where you begin and he ends.

Shouto nips your lip and you gasp, your hips canting forward of their own accord. Your mouth is gaping, begging for air, and he gives in to your silent request, drifting his lips downward to your jawline. He mutters a string of curse words as your hands finally make their way to his hair and shoulders, digging into him like he might float away.

He hums against your collarbone, teeth bared as he licks and nips at your skin. The alcohol in your bloodstream mixed with his essence in your veins only spins your mind into overdrive, dizzying you to the point that your eyes cross. You whine as he bites kisses into your skin, fingernails dug sharply into the skin of his back through his shirt. There will most likely be little crescent moon imprints when you release.

The trail of his kisses loops back up the column of your throat, teeth grazing your jaw as he works his way to your mouth again. You whine into his lips when his frozen fingers stroke your bare skin beneath your top, “Shouto, please-”

Todoroki’s confidence grows when he hears you moan his name into the air, begging him with only a few syllables. He disconnects his mouth from yours to look you in the eyes, “God, you’re so damn pretty, y’know?”

Your mouth hangs open and Todoroki must hold himself back from slipping his thumb between your parted, full lips. A shuddering breath passes between the two of you, time frozen as the moment sits still. It allows the both of you to agonize over one another, taking in each and every wanton feature as you beg quietly.

“So pretty,” he whispers before digging his hands into your backside and tugging you forward so you wrap yourself around him. His mouth is on you in a flash, all teeth and tongue pulling and prodding at you in a divine way you’re sure only he has mastered.

You are enraptured by him, fully captivated with his dual-ended quirk sending your body into a haze. Your mind is bewildered, thrown into a twirl of rum and Todoroki. If he were to give you a moment to catch your breath, you might be able to find it within your resolve to push him off you, to tell him how wrong this is. And yet, with his tongue tangled in your teeth, you can’t force the word no out of your throat.

Instead it is just his name.

Todoroki picks you up to deposit you on the countertop, thumbs digging into your hips to help you settle. His fingers make quick work of your top, slipping beneath them hem to graze over the swell of your breast on the underside. You whimper at the ghost of his touch, trying to angle your arms so you can tug at the band of his sweats.

When he realizes what you are fumbling with, he uses the bottoms of his feet to tug his pants down to his ankles. He steps out of them, but you can’t focus on anything other than the prominent bulge strained against his dark briefs. You have to swallow the drool accumulating in the center of your mouth, threatening to pool over the corners of your lips if you were to speak.

Before he tugs your shirt over your head, he looks into your eyes, sincerity cutting through the lust clouding his irises, “Last chance.”

He is giving you an out. One last clear path to purity.

You hesitate for a moment and his hands curl tighter around the hem of your top, restraining himself from ripping it away like an animal. His jaw is quivering as he waits on your response, nostrils flaring when you do not answer right away.

Whether it is the alcohol or the need talking, you are the conduit for the words spoken next, “Fuck me, Shouto. Now.”

Your shirt is yanked over your head unceremoniously, but you don’t care. Your eyes are wandering, begging for him to be nearly as naked as you. You don’t have to ask, because he’s already stepping away from you to remove the offensive piece of clothing, baring his body to you.

You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, especially upon moving into the Todoroki residence. He goes on shirtless jogs and sometimes does not wear anything on his torso for a while after he’s showered. There are days he has hardly anything remaining of his costume, after a particularly rough villain or training session.

And yet, this time it feels different.

He is baring himself for you. The intimacy of the moment does little to dull the ache in your mind, the strain of your heart in your ribs. You know that if he were to show you much more openness, you may have bruises beneath your skin from the way your heart threatens to beat at such a quick, tumultuous pace.

Shouto wastes little time in lurching forward to palm at your breasts, mouth too busy with your lips to pay attention to much else. You hitch your thigh between his hips, the curve of your leg brushing into his clothed cock. He grunts into the trap of your teeth, brow tugged with focus as he ruts his hips upward into you. You’re sure to put pressure back against him, the tip of his cock bulging on your thigh.

“Sho’,” you whimper when his mouth drifts from your lips to your neck. Your hands find his hair and his shoulder, eyelids fluttering halfway closed while he licks and nips at your thin, sensitive skin. Your throat burns, flesh aching as he starts to bite into you, rolling the skin between his teeth slowly, agonizing your very core.

A fresh wave of arousal coats the inside of your walls, and you know it is stained your panties, but you don’t have enough dignity to care. All that is on your mind is how he can take you on the countertop, and if you’ll be able to keep quiet enough not to wake the sleeping girl up the flight of stairs.

“Shit,” he’s cursing when your hand finds his bulge, “sweetheart, I-”

His breath is stuttered over your collarbone as you begin to palm him through his briefs. The nickname tumbling from his lips in a moan turns your stomach, effervescent champagne bubbles drifting up from your belly until they are suffocating your lungs. You gasp to relieve yourself of the pent-up anticipation as his left hand reaches the button of your shorts.

Shouto is careful as he unbuttons your pants, slipping the coarse fabric of your jeans down your thighs. As he squats down to help you out of them, all you can think of is what might happen if you were to grab him by the hair and force his mouth to your cunt.

Almost like he was reading your mind, he leans forward after he’s tossed your jeans to the other side of the kitchen floor and his mouth ghosts over your core. Your lower lip wobbles and you must bite your tongue to keep your mewling cries from tumbling out in excess. Todoroki kisses the top of your thigh, nose nudging over the edge of your lace underwear, his eyes closed so you cannot make out the expression settled in his ordinarily stoic irises.

“If you smell this good, I can only imagine how wonderful you taste,” Todoroki smirks against your skin, tilting his head so he can look up at you from his crouched position.

Your hips cant forward at the sentence, pussy already dripping just from the timbre of his deep voice. The vibrations of his word are like shockwaves straight to your core and you want to beg him to give you something, even a teasing lick over the center of your underwear.

Shouto kisses the little bow at the center of your panties, smiling as he snags the accent between the bite of his teeth and uses it to tug your underwear down your thighs. Your muscles tense, his ministrations slow and tantalizing. He chuckles and the sound shoots through your bones as if they were hollow like a feather, the warm honey of his laughter seeping slowly into your every pore and breaking down what remains of your resolve.

You have to cover your mouth with your hands when you yelp at the pad of his thumb brushing back the hood of your clit. His cool palm finds your thigh, just below the curve of your ass, and he stabilizes you with a firm grip, “Sit still, Princess.”

The authoritative tone of his voice turns your spine rigid, eyes facing the wall as he butterflies your pussy so he can see the silvery strands of slick built up between your layers of skin. He licks his lips and you feel the threatening heat of his tongue near your clit and you’re squirming. You are white knuckling the countertop, jaw under immense pressure as you clamp your teeth harshly.

He does not give you warning before delving his tongue between your folds, licking up your accumulated slick with one slow movement. His glittering grey iris tries to find your face, but the only thing he can make out is the line of your jaw and chin as your head is thrown back. Shouto chuckles before starting to explore the glutenous walls of your cunt with his tongue, his one hand still pressed into your thigh, fingers digging so hard that you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow morning.

Your body responds to him quickly, hips canting forward to buck against his mouth, begging for something more than just the quick slithering of his tongue in and out of you. In retaliation, Shouto presses his tongue flat, creating the illusion that it is thicker than before. You keen when he turns the pad of his thumb near your clit, close but not near enough.

“Sho’, please,” you pant, sweat beginning to bead up on your temples from the anticipation alone.

His cocky smirk is something you can sense when he speaks, but even further, you can feel it as he continues to lavish your pussy with his tongue. He huffs before standing to his feet, your slick mixed with his saliva giving his mouth a dangerous glint in the lowlight of the kitchen.

Shouto licks his lips as he steps closer to you again, bodies flush with one another. The hand that you know could burn you in an instant drifts down your side towards your pussy and you feel every muscle in your body clench at the thought of what kind of damage he could do to you if he tried.

Oh, and you’d let him.

You are about to beg him again, wanton moans vibrating your throat, but he intercepts you before you can lower your inhibitions any further. Shouto’s elongated middle finger slips just between your folds, using his saliva and your slick to lubricate his digit as he begins to pump up into you.

Todoroki Shouto is by no means a small man.

However, he is not so muscular that it looks like he is uncomfortable whenever he is walking. He is lean but built, which means that even though his hands are thick with muscle, they are not painful when pressed into your tight heat. Rather, they are snug and comfortable, his knuckle providing a pleasure you’ve not experienced before.

The tip of his finger brushes the spongy spot at the base of your core, and you swear you feel him in your spine. Shouto leans forward kiss you and you receive him quickly, desperate for some sort of tactile relief. He’s grinning into your lips, but you do not care so long as you find some reprieve from the coil beginning to twist within your stomach.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Todoroki whispers into your teeth as his tongue licks against your gums.

At his comment, you clench your cunt around his fingers, tightening your hold only to see how he will react. His hand stills for a moment, but then he is pushing another finger to accompany the first, splitting your cunt open despite the vice-like grip you have on his knuckle. He pumps until the base of his digits are finding the heat of your pussy, his fingerprints searing into your walls as you attempt to stay clamped around him.

Your legs begin to shake from the way you are holding yourself up on your toes, knees bent so you can be closer to his body. Todoroki feels the tremors in your thighs as his hand roams the dense muscle, whispering, “C’mere, love,” and then he’s picking you up gingerly.

Shouto hooks one of your legs around his waist at the knee, arching your back so your cunt is still butterflied open for him. Your other leg dangles from the countertop as he balances you on the edge.

The way his fingers work into you is nothing short of sinful, that white-hot flash of pleasure sinking into your eyelids slowly but surely. You begin to lose your peripheral vision as the impending ecstasy begins to settle in. The crest of the wave is close, his knuckles dragging salaciously against the innermost part of you.

Your jaw hangs open the closer you are to coming undone, panting breaths prying your lips apart. You feel utterly exposed in front of him like this, lewdly strewn against the counter that you were sipping rum and whiskey against not even a half hour ago. And yet, somehow, Shouto’s hand cradled against your shoulders is all you need to bring your self-consciousness down to a manageable level.

From this angle, you can reach down and pull Shouto’s briefs down so his cock can spring free. You’re palming at him as soon as you see the dark red of his cockhead. He stutter-steps forward when you pump him the first time, eyes close to bulging from their sockets at the sensation.

You twist his cock in your palm, running your thumb against the pearlescent bead of pre-come collected at the curve of his slit. Using what you can of the liquid, you drag your damp thumb down the length of his cock for slight lubrication. Shouto bucks into your hand when you bob your palm up and down to connect with the base of his pubic bone.

Now that you’re secure on the countertop, Shouto allows his free hand to wander around the curvatures of your body, mapping out the dips and contours of your frame. His hand is on your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, when your mouth drops open from a particularly pleasurable swipe of his fingers. Your cunt is dripping, and you’re honestly not sure if it even matters if you come, he should be able to slip right between your tight heat with ease.

“S’pretty,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek as his thumb brushes the bow of your bottom lip.

On instinct, your tongue laps towards the digit, silently begging for him to do more.

Shouto listens, dipping his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad of his finger into the thick muscle of your tongue. You lick and suck at him, rolling your mouth to match the pace of your hand as you work his hard cock towards release. Shouto fixes the rhythm of his fingers so every part of your bodies are going at the same speed.

The collective sensations of his hands and mouth are too much and you cry out, digging your free hand into his shoulder to attempt and ground yourself. You pant, looking up at him with bejeweled irises, tears sitting dormant on your lashes as a whine sits pretty on your lips.

“What is it?” he asks, borderline patronizing. “Are you gonna come on my fingers?”

Your lower lip trembles and you feel yourself slipping into some subservient headspace at the tone in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips to meet him as he slows his hand, “P-Please, Shouto, I-”

“I want you to come,” he murmurs into your ear, leaning forward so his breath is hot on your skin. The hand he has buried in your cunt begins to heat and the searing sensation sends your mind reeling. Shouto nudges his nose along your jawline, warmth creeping along the base of his palm, “C’mon, love, I want to see you come. Make a pretty little face for me, yeah?”

His words do little to quell the growing ache between your thighs, the pent-up need begging to be released. You clench around him again, not forgetting his cock between your hand. You continue to twist your wrist, flicking your fingers along the length of his dick, dragging with just enough pressure to make his eyes cross. Teasing the head, you drag the pad of your thumb over it, catching another swell of pre-come and trailing the liquid down the thick shaft.

You whimper his name, squeezing your eyes closed so harshly that the corners of your lids crinkle. Your sounds only grow louder when his mouth begins to suck at your nipple, massaging your breast in his chilled hand. The crystallization of ice draws your attention, a frozen cold so intense that it almost feels hot in its own unique way.

There is a stinging excitement at the duality of the temperatures that grow further apart the longer he activates his quirk. Your nipples pebble while your pussy floods from the heat, copious amounts of slick trickling down his fingers to pool in the creases of his palm. Shouto murmurs obscenities against your earlobe but you’re in such a realm of fevered phrenzy that you can’t make out he’s even speaking English.

“Sh-Shouto, I-I’m close,” you manage, feeling the way his cock throbs beneath your touch helping to bring you back to the cusp of reality. You dive deep again when his fingertips brush against your cervix, allowing his passion to force you beneath the surface.

His thumb is circling your clit as he murmurs, “C’mon, darling, I know you can do it. Come for me, yeah?”

It’s as if his words united with his caress are enough to shove you head-first into the pool of desire. You are whimpering, cunt fluttering around his fingers as your come drips down the crevices of his palm. Your release reaches his wrist, milky liquid tickling his skin.

“Atta girl,” he kisses your cheek, fingers stilling for a moment to allow you to collect yourself. You continue to ride out your high by bucking your hips over his knuckles, slippery fingers easily providing you the rest of the comfort you need to come down from your high.

“Your turn.”

You’re pushing your way off the countertop when the creaking of the stairs makes your heart still within your chest.

Shouto’s stare flickers from you to the staircase, jaw hung open as he analyzes the sound. When another step echoes in the hallway, he’s quick to yank his briefs and sweats back over his hips. He helps you into your shorts, the silvery strands of your release forgotten as he tugs the fabric up your hips.

You’ve just gotten your pants buttoned when Hana’s teetering figure creates a shadow on the kitchen floor.

“Daddy?” she whimpers, fists digging into her tear-filled eyes.

Shouto swipes his hands against his sweats before crouching in front of her. His palms find her sides quickly, thumbs grazing her rib cage in an attempt at comfort, “Hey, love,” the sound of the nickname makes something stir within your belly, “what’re you doing awake?”

Hana swallows a hiccup, “I-I had a bad dream.”

You step forward, pressing your hand to Shouto’s shoulder, offering a gentle nudge of comfort. Hana blinks up at you, jeweled irises focused on your face, “M-Momma?”

The title holds a weight you had not prepared to carry.

She’s all but forgotten Todoroki, pushing past him to barrel into your shin, wrapping her stubby arms around your knee. She wipes her face against the skin of your thigh, sniffling louder as a fresh wave of tears takes over her body. Her shoulders shudder and you don’t have time to wonder whether she’s cognizant enough to realize that she’s just called you her mother.

You scoop her up in your arms, holding her gingerly by the back and head, and she wraps her legs around your midsection to anchor her little body to your torso like a frightened animal. Hana buries her head into your neck, tears sticking to your skin and creating an unbearable heat.

“You’re not leaving, right?” Hana whimpers, “I-I had a dream that you left.”

In an effort to comfort her, you run your fingers through her hair, gently separating the strands so your nails can scratch her scalp. You kiss her temple, “Of course not, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

She retracts from your neck and a rush of cool air washes over you. Her irises are swallowed by her pupils, thick droplets of tears wetting her cheeks. You smile, forcing yourself to forget the way you were just about to jump her father’s bones, and brush your nose against hers in an eskimo kiss.

“It was just a dream, babe,” you comfort her, making sure you are looking at her directly when you say it so she feels much more solid in the reality that you are here to stay. A soothing hand reaches forward to couple with yours, thumb tracing the bump of her shoulder.

Todoroki kisses the back of her head, “Hana, there’s no need to worry, love.”

“I already lost one mommy,” Hana sounds ancient when she speaks, voice far away and intelligent beyond her young years, “I don’t wanna lose another one.”

Your voice is lodged in your throat now, tears of your own pressing threateningly against the back of your eyes. You try to swallow but the shards of your heart are blocking your windpipe, cutting off your oxygen. Todoroki slips his hands beneath Hana’s armpits, separating her from you so he can cradle her body against his chest, “You’re not losing anyone, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You take this as your cue to leave, grabbing your things as Todoroki takes Hana back up the stairs to her bedroom.

A sense akin to despair settles in your chest, restraining your heart in such a way that makes it difficult to breathe. The world seems to settle atop your shoulders and in the next moments you have turned into Atlas, forced to hold the earth up by your careless grip. Tears settle in your lids as you pull away from the Todoroki residence.

Something tells you that things will never be the same.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

As much as you hate it, that little voice eating away at the back of your mind was right.

The looming reality that Todoroki is avoiding you does little to satisfy the curiosity settled in your bones, affecting you down to the marrow.

Ever since that night, he hardly looks you in the eye.

In fact, he’s barely even around to see you at all.

Todoroki leaves for work before you can emerge from the bathroom with Hana in tow, fresh from a bubble bath and ready for breakfast. He slips back through the doors late at night, normally after eight, so Hana is either passed out with you on the couch or curled up beneath her covers in her bedroom. There is not another time where he touches you gingerly on the shoulder and guides you back to bed, not anymore.

You have wondered many times if you should approach him, beg him for some sort of explanation. Not only is his distance affecting you, but it’s turning Hana into a child you hardly recognize. She is still cheerful a majority of the time, begging you to play princesses and watch Bubble Guppies. But there are times when she turns angry, ripping the heads off her dolls and trying to sabotage Todoroki’s work clothes by drawing on his shoes or dropping her glass of morning milk on his suit jacket.

You start to cook his meals the day before, packaging them up in a Tupperware container that’s always gone when you check at breakfast the next morning. You are not a blind woman, and you normally choose to indulge his silly game of hide and seek instead of confronting him about what happened that night.

However, tonight, you’ve had enough.

Even though he’s decided to spend the weekend at home for the first time in a few weeks, you’ve never felt more on edge. Hana is extremely irritable, nightmares plaguing her mind during the time she’s supposed to be sleeping, and it would seem there is nothing you can ever do to satiate her throughout the day.

Playing princess is boring, coloring is stressful, blowing bubbles is stupid.

You are reaching the end of your rope and Shouto’s evasive presence does little to satiate your temperamental moods. You clutch at the cusp of sanity, praying that it will not leave you just yet; the only thing holding your tongue back from lashing out is the sliver of discretion that you’ve managed to sustain in spite of the day’s events.

“Hey, uh-” Todoroki’s voice is strained as he stands in the archway of the kitchen, “Would you mind making us a couple of sandwiches? I think Hana is getting hungry.”

The warmth from the dishwater gives you something other than his irises to focus on, your eyesight directed downward, “Sure. What would you like?”

“Let’s just do peanut butter and jelly,” Shouto shrugs nonchalantly. “Grape, if we have it.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of a specific flavor. You are certain that if you were to look into the refrigerator that you would not find grape jelly, but it’s obvious that Shouto is otherwise unknowing.

“Grape?” you echo, pulling your hands from the dishwater to wipe them on your hand towel. “You think that’s a smart choice?”

Shouto scoffs and it stings so much that you turn your head away from him, eyes now focused on the floor beneath your feet, “Yes, I’m sure. Why does it matter anyway?”

“Oh, no reason.” You pluck a jar of strawberry jelly from the refrigerator and begin to prepare the countertop for your sandwich making.

He takes a step forward to protest, but you’re waving the knife in his direction before he can stride across the tile, “You listen to me, Todoroki. And you listen good.”

Shouto pauses, throat bobbing as his line of sight zeroes in on your lips. His eyes widen, pupils swallowing his irises in fear. The knife wavering in your grasp holds much more weight than any other butter knife he’s come into contact with.

“We don’t have any grape jelly because your daughter is allergic to grapes.”

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the butter knife in your hand, “And if you were ever here you might notice a thing or two, such as an allergy to something that could, I dunno, kill her?!”

The sound of your voice raising an octave or two reverberates off of the walls and thrums at Shouto’s heartstrings. He swallows thickly, but you’re not done tearing into him just yet.

“This little charade you’ve got going on has got to end.” Your voice is desperate, unhinged, and you feel the honesty scrape against the front of your throat, “Your daughter is turning into someone you can barely recognize, and you’re not far behind her.”

Silence envelopes the room, and the only thing you’re able to hear is your heart beating frantically in your own ears. As your pulse thuds rapidly, rushing like a river of thick emotion throughout your body, you feel your palms begin to sweat. The longer you keep quiet, the louder the sound grows.

Finally, after giving him a few minutes to respond, you press the tops of your fists into your hips, glaring down your nose at him, “If you want me gone, all you had to do was ask. I thought we respected one another enough for that.”

You slap together two sandwiches quickly, tossing the plates onto the counter for him to pick up on his own before you turn and walk from the room. You’re unable to look at him any longer, not sure if it’s the loitering reality that you may have to move on from this chapter of your life or the loss of a generous paycheck and living situation that wraps your heart like the talons of a bird, squeezing until you can’t breathe.

The tumultuous roll of emotions scrapes away at your chest, and you’re surprised that there isn’t blood gushing from your ribs. You lean back against your closed door, head tilted backward to stave off the tears, saltine droplets coating your lashes as they sit in your ducts, pending the gentle sway of your neck to drip down your cheeks.

You aren’t sure how long you stay this way, crumbled against your door with the heat of disappointment building smoke in your lungs. It’s difficult to breathe, a dizziness taking over your mind that you’ve never felt quite so acutely before. You cradle your head in your hands, massaging your temples with your thumbs to try and mitigate the oncoming migraine.

A knock sounds at your door and you jump, hand pressed over your frantic heart, “Y-Yes?”

“Can-Can I come in?”

Shouto.

The sound of his voice does little to staunch the metaphorical puncture wound in your chest. You flex your hands before standing to your feet and opening the door, allowing him to step over the threshold into your room.

“Listen, I think there’s just-”

“No,” you interrupt, a short breath filling your lungs, “I’m going first.”

Todoroki’s eyes dilate, his feet stuttering backward as he takes in your assertive sentence. He grits his teeth, jaw quivering under the stress, but keeps his lips sealed in spite of desperately wanting to speak out.

“If you don’t want me here, you could have just said so.” You wring your hands together, knuckles knocking against one another as you twist your fingers. You close your eyelids and inhale a deep breath, “What happened, u-us kissing, wasn’t professional, and I apologize. But what you’re doing to Hana?”

You flare your nostrils as your hands turn to fists at your side. Todoroki watches you closely, eyes never wavering from your frame as he takes in your quivering, quiet fury. Your jaw muscles tense and you force your eyes to meet his, despite the glossiness settled in them, “You’re never here, Shouto. You missed her ballet recital last week, then you forgot she was allergic to grapes, and now you’re not seeing what’s directly in front of you!”

The more you speak, the louder you become. You can feel your cheeks heating, the tears building up in your eyelids with every syllable. Your fists clench at your sides, and your fingernails dig irately into your palms, so harshly that you swear you might draw blood. Each word draws out an anger in you that you didn’t realize you were harboring, like a fugitive sitting in the cage of your chest, tugging on the bars of your heart as they beg to be broken free.

“Hana deserves better than this, and you know it, Todoroki. So if you don’t get your head out of your ass,” your lower lip wobbles and you reach forward to poke him directly in the chest, index finger dug into the space between his pectorals, “you’re going to lose your daughter.”

You’re shaking your head and your fist as the next sentence comes tumbling from your lips, heart strings fully wound as you speak, “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is, but if it’s me, then I’ll leave.”

Shouto’s brow furrows as he looks down his nose at you, “Are you finished?”

The deadpan of his voice stirs something in your belly, something like an acrid fire that plumes in your chest, the smoke of it all curling around your throat and begging to be spewed like acid from your tongue. Your teeth grind into each other, a creaking sound echoing in your own ears. The way your heart twists in your chest makes it difficult to breathe, but you manage.

“Fuck you, Todoroki.”

You go to turn away from him, your hand falling from his chest, when he snatches you by the wrist, repeating his question, “Are you finished?”

A small remaining sliver of your patience sits heavy on your chest, forcing you to nod your head. Regardless of how you feel about him, Todoroki Shouto is an important man, and you need to leave here a dignified woman. If you make a scene, if you flash your fists and bare your teeth, it’s possible you won’t have another job ever again.

“I don’t want you to quit,” his voice is breathless, an octave higher than normal; he almost sounds sick, “but there is a problem.”

The anticipation of what he might say next brings back that acidic wash in your belly, throat squeezed shut by the clamped hands of insecurity and doubt. Shouto takes a careful step forward, mindful of your personal space as he does so. His fingers never leave your wrist, circled around your arm even as it’s pulled away from his body.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

To say that the world stopped spinning was an understatement.

You feel the whole planet turn on its axis, your body undergoing vertigo as the metaphorical rug is yanked out from beneath your feet. Your stomach flips, the acid molting into lava, hot and sticky as it licks up against your skin, pooling just below your navel. His grip is too restrictive, and you can tell your body is beginning to shift into panic mode.

“You’re right,” he barges in on your internal monologue of self-hatred, eyes boring into your soul, “I’ve been a shitty father, which is painful for me to admit. But it’s the truth.”

The conviction in his voice is solid, and you know that he is being authentic. Todoroki has a clouded past when it comes to his father, Enji. You are aware of the influence his estranged parents have on his relationship with his child, which is one of the reasons his distance has troubled you. Every time he has had enough vulnerability to allow you to peek into the glass panes of his soul, he’s shown you the scars that Endeavor has left on him.

Todoroki uses his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb under your chin to pull your attention back to him, “I tried to distance myself from you to get a better grasp on the way I was feeling.”

His palm grazes down the column of your throat, his eyes careful not to stray to close to your lips or else he’ll get distracted. Your mouth bobs open but you have nothing to say, and the bewildered expression on your face makes him laugh. The sound of his baritone chuckle does little to quell the storm raging beneath your skin, lighting striking with every single touch of his fingers and thunder booming in your chest at the sound of his voice.

“For the longest time, I believed I would never love anyone again after my wife passed away.” The feel of his knuckles slipping between yours, palm searing into you despite it being his right side. At the mention of his wife, your whole being begins to shudder, the weight of expectations and self-doubt pressing into your chest like a mass you cannot remove.

Todoroki swallows the lump in his throat, neck bobbing, “I was content with it just being Hana and I for the rest of our lives, us against the world, until you came along. You fit so perfectly into our family, sliding in seamlessly as if you’d been here the whole time. You managed to win Hana over in a day and now she can’t stop talking about you. And then, when Hana called you mom, it threw me.”

Shouto’s eyes are intense as they stare into you, narrowed and attentive. The odd combination of one blue, one grey, is hard to grasp, unsure of where you should look specifically. His fingers against your neck card through your hair, keeping you anchored to him and this world.

“It was easier for me to dive into work because I knew I’d have you here to pick up the pieces,” Shouto admits, his gaze finally breaking away from your face to narrow focus to his sock-clad feet. “I was so weak for you that I couldn’t bear it. And then you and Hana both suffered for my cowardice.”

A wave of destiny washes over you, looming like a shadow, begging you to make a decision.

“Todoroki, this is-”

“I told you,” his thumb grazes your cheekbone, “not to call me that.”

Your jaw hangs open and tears cloud your vision, and you want to smile no matter how hard your body fights against you. Your lower lip quivers and you shake your head, saltine droplets lingering on your cheeks, “I-I can’t, Shouto. I’m not right for you and Hana, I’m not-oh.”

His mouth slots against yours, angled perfectly to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. Shouto’s hands are on your face, holding you in place so you can’t run from him, despite how every cell under your skin is screaming to bolt from your place.

As he parts from you, you’re left in a daze of euphoria, eyes half-lidded, mouth still pursed as you chase after him, pleading for more.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip before retreating to trace your jawline.

And you know that you can’t; your body has already betrayed your words with the simple action of a kiss. Your hands follow suit, wrapped around the fabric of his shirt to keep him close, frightened he might leave you all over again.

Shouto’s hands drift down your abdomen, slow against your rib cage as if he were counting each bone to make sure they were all there, safe and sound. He kisses your forehead and then your nose, mouth hovering over the bow of your lips, eyes begging you even though his voice is caught in his lungs.

You say a stupid thing then, just something meant to break up the quiet, but with the floaty tone of your voice it breeds for much more wicked thoughts.

“Your lips are really warm.”

Shouto laughs before devouring you at the seam of your mouth, leaning forward to scoop you up in his arms, hands dug in at your thighs. You squeal against his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, your fingers dipping into the muscle of his shoulders for an anchor.

He’s got you back against the bed before you can breathe again, leaning back on his thighs so he can pull his shirt over his head with ease. Your palms are like magnets to his abdomen, fingerprints finding each curve and dip of his muscle, praying you can map it out so you might memorize it for the times when he’s not able to be this close.

As his fingertips graze beneath the hem of your shirt, your eyes go wide, stuttering breath accompanied by panicked words, “H-Hana? Is she-”

Shouto chuckles, “She’s laid down for her nap. We have about two hours.”

The devilish glint in his eyes does little to quell the rampant thoughts running in your mind. You suddenly want to feel his hands and mouth everywhere on your body, insatiable in your lust for his touch.

“Sh-Shouto, please,” you’re panting and he hasn’t even undressed you yet, “need you.”

A devout confession such as that one, something so primal in its nature, shifts his demeanor from playful to sinful. Now his fingertips are dancing beneath your shirt, palming over your skin like he might find a hidden treasure in your bones.

He shakes his head, nose grazing your cheek as he starts towards your collarbone, “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“Need you.”

You are quick in your answer, eyes screwed shut at the tantalizing ministrations of his fingers on your flesh. He is teasing you, just close enough to your breast that it hitches your breathing, but not too close to where you can feel pleasure. A hot wash of arousal rolls into your body, slick beginning to gather between your thighs.

“More specific,” the words are muttered around the skin of your chest, one of his hands tugging on your collar to bare more of your body to him.

You whine, bucking your hips upward, knowing exactly the shape his cock will be in beneath the underwear that has him caged from you. You reach forward and tug at the waistline of his briefs, “Please, Shouto, I want to feel you.”

At the mention of feel, he takes you by surprise as he slips two fingers between your folds, curling into you quickly. You muffle your whine into the pillow, turning your face so your cheek is smushed against the downy cushion. Shouto’s palm that isn’t occupied with your tight heat tugs your shirt up over the tops of your breasts, baring your chest to the cool air of the bedroom.

“You are feeling me, sweetheart,” he teasingly licks over your nipple, thankful for the lack of a bra separating you from his wanton tongue.

Another moan drags salaciously from your lips, vibrating your throat and making his cock twitch, “Sho’, wan’ your cock. Please.”

You’re able to drag his pants and briefs down at once, his cock springing free from the restricting fabric. When it bobs against his abdomen, enflamed red cockhead leaking pre-come, you feel saliva build up in the back of your throat. You start to pump him as best you can, watching as his weighty balls swing under your touch.

Everything about him is enticing, from his dual-toned hair to his heterochromatic eyes to his chiseled body. You’d use your tongue on every part of him if he’d let you, but right now you’re focused on only one thing.

Once Shouto has coaxed enough of your arousal to coat his hand, he curls his fingers into you one last time, collecting the silvery fluid on his fingers, and then stands to step out of his clothes. You keen at the loss of contact, eyes wide open so you don’t miss a second.

“C’mon, baby, take your clothes off for me.”

At his command, you’re stripping down until you’re bare in front of him, clothes in a pool of fabric on the floor right next to his. Even the simple intimacy of his clothing overlapped with yours does things to your heart, a pinpricking sensation making your skin heat.

“Hi,” he whispers, fingers framing your face as you get lost in his touch. His voice is gentle, and his touch is probing in the best of ways, a genuine smile tugging his lips upward as you echo the word back to him.

You can feel your arousal tumbling within the confines of your body, begging to be put to use as you feel his cock against your thigh. Todoroki guides you back into the mattress, shoulders pressing into the cool sheets, your body given some sort of contrast to the molten heat circulating under your skin. Your blushed skin draws Shouto’s attention, eyes dragging over each inch of your body, mesmerized by your beauty.

Todoroki shakes his head, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

And at the end of his sentence, acting like punctuation, his cock slides between your heat.

Your eyelids flutter shut and your hands are on him in an instant, nails dug into his flesh to try and dispel some of the energy already built up within your fragile body. Shouto feels lightning spark up into his spine, the trails of it striking his hidden heart, licking at the edges of the glass box keeping him imprisoned from the world.

As your cunt clenches around him and your mouth utters his name like a prayer, Shouto can tell that his chest is constricting, tightening around his heart in an attempt to break himself free from the confines of his past.

“Sho’,” you’re mewling for him now as the veins of his cock drag salaciously against your tight, glutenous walls. Silvery slick coats his dick and he moans as your pussy clamps again.

He begins to build up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb brushing over your clit slowly, the very beginning of a pleasurable end building up within your belly. His mouth is attached to anything on you he can find – breast, collarbone, jaw, throat, cheek. Teeth and tongue lash out at you, parting his mouth so his heated breath can wash over your body.

Shouto focuses as best he can on forcing heat down the length of his arm, pinpointing the warmest point onto the tip of his thumb. You preen, eyes bulging out of your sockets well enough that he can translate your pleasure. On the opposing hand, the one currently preoccupied with your nipple, begins to freeze. Gooseflesh trembles on his arm but he does not mind, not when he gets to hear your panting whines of his name mixed with the begging sounds of please, please, please.

“Such a good girl,” Shouto murmurs into the thin skin of your throat, tongue delving from between his lips to lavish your jugular. “So pretty, laid out just for me.”

You nod your head as best you can, eyes wide as you drink in his praise. Your mouth bobs open but you can’t form words, not anything intelligent anyway. Shouto reaches his icy thumb towards your lips, brushing his cool touch over the heated skin, steam wafting between the two of you.

“Have you been thinking about this as long as I have?” he asks rhetorically, not expecting you to answer based on the fucked out look in your eyes, the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as his body makes quick work of you. Shouto grunts, “I’ve wanted to take you against every damn surface in this house for months.”

His left hand peels from your clit, running up over the curve of your thigh to press beneath your knee, pushing your leg upward so he can thrust into you from a better angle. Your hands are stuck on the sheets now, his body just out of reach thanks to the twisting of your hips. Shouto slams into you, balls slapping your ass as he ruts forward.

You feel his cock harden even further from within the confines of your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongy corner of your insides. After another deep thrust he’s bottomed out within you, hips absolutely flush with your thighs as he presses into you.

Shouto leans forward, not daring to pull himself away from you just yet, enjoying the way you envelope him fully, “You think you can come for me, love? I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Y-Yes, Shouto, I-I’m getting there, almost,” you promise him, eyes fucked out to the point you can barely make sense of his frame loitering above you. Your lower lip wobbles as you pout, “A-Are you gonna-fuck-want you to come in me.”

It’s a simple sentence, but the weight of it makes Todoroki’s heart stop. He knows you’re on preventatives, he’s had to stay home with Hana to cover during the day for your doctor’s visits. But something stirs at the base of his cock, weighing in the thick of his body, and for some reason he wishes you were his for the taking in every sense of the word.

As you whimper beneath him, his eyes trail over your body, landing on your belly. His fiery touch grazes the swell of your stomach where he knows his cock is pressed deep within you. His balls throb at the thought of coating every inch of you in his spend, you begging for more as it leaks out of you and onto the sheets; him drawing you into another round just to make sure that you’re stuffed full.

Suddenly, a fracture within his chest allows him to breathe deeper. As you buck your hips into him, begging him for more, telling him how good he’s making you feel, Shouto recognizes the fragile box surrounding his heart, guarding it from the world, has begun to shatter.

“Shouto, please,” you are begging him now, glassy eyes and pitched tone designed just for him, “Need to feel you, everywhere.”

Your plea is the final rock thrown at the glass box, cracking it in every direction. Shards of emotion lodge in his throat, tearing into him so he cannot breathe. As he gasps for breath, fingers digging into your skin, he knows he’s bruising you but he can’t bring himself to think of it as anything other than finally marking you down at his.

And then, when your breathy voice curls in the air, settling on his chest like a balm, he feels the glass melt away, turning to liquid fire in his gut. The words you utter tear open his heart, leaving a gaping, belligerent wound that he knows only you can mend.

“I love you, Shouto, I love you too.”

His eyes find yours, wide and wanting. You nod as if that will solidify his place in the universe, tears blurring your vision, repeating the sentiment over and over again, uncaring to the way your face looks glassy beneath the lowlight of the bedroom. You just need him to know, need him to understand.

“Shit,” he pushes the heel of his palm into the bottom of your stomach, itching to feel the way his cock pulses in and out of you as he thrusts into your body. His thoughts are even more permanent now, the idea of filling you up, pouring his body into you in the most primal way possible, is the only thing he can see. Your hand makes its way into his hair, tugging at the crown of his head as you lean forward.

A mix of crimson and white is bunched between your fists, matching the little tufts of hair that tickle your pelvis every time he bottoms out within you. You scrape your nails against his scalp, but that only spurs him on faster, panting moans busting his throat open and begging you for more.

Your lashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks, mouth parted so he can see the pink of your tongue, “Sh-Sho’, I’m close.”

He makes it his mission to twitch his cock within your walls, providing an extra layer of stimulation as his channels himself into you mercilessly. Somehow, he does it with such a finesse that it does not feel rushed or sloppy. Shouto is very careful, precise, in everything he does, and you are not surprised it works its way into the mannerisms he exhibits between the sheets as well.

“C’mon, darling,” he coos into your ear, folding your thighs upward so you’re fully pressed into the mattress, “I want you to come for me, yeah? I want you to coat my cock. You can do it, you’re close, I can feel it.”

His praise intertwined with the thickness of his cock bulging within you breaks the crest of the wave, allowing pleasure to flow through your body and onto his cock, coating him in your thick, sweet release.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Shouto continues to thrust upward into you, eyes focused on your face as he uses your cunt to bring his own euphoria down from the clouds. He’s looking down at you, jaw hung wide as he buries his cock into your tight heat, enjoying the way your slick lubricates his length.

You buck up into him and he drops his head to your collarbone, thrusts becoming sloppier the longer he tries to hang on to the edge of the cliff. Your hand in his hair tugs on the strands, mouth by his ear as you whisper, “Please, Shouto, want to feel you come in me. I want you to pump me full of your hot load, stuff me-ah.”

His hips stutters as he releases his seed into you, tongue lapping at your throat carelessly to try and force his body not to start up again. The need to feel you coming around him, begging for his cock and come, is something he has been denying for too long.

“I love you,” he whispers into the curve of your earlobe, nipping at the skin as his hips still. “Fuck, I love you.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to the curve of his scalp, “I love you too.”

As he reaches the extent of his high, he presses his body flat into you, cock twitching within your core. Your palms find his shoulders, grazing gently with your fingernails until he’s moaning into your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin.

“Unless you want to go again, I suggest you put an end to that,” he warns, but there is no intent behind it.

You laugh, rubbing your ankle against his calf, “We’ve got a little one about to wake from her nap. Maybe later.”

And that is a promise you fully intend to keep.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Momma?”

You turn your head, pancakes on the griddle in front of you, “Yes, honey?”

Hana bounces towards you, white chiffon dress bubbling out at her knees, “When is breakfast ready?”

“When daddy gets back from his run,” you answer her, squatting in front of her to smooth the wrinkles from the fabric of her dress. “I made yours with choco-chips.”

Her eyes go wide and you feel a little sunbeam shining directly on your heart, warming your chest. She grabs you by the cheeks, palms squishing your lips together, “You can’t tell daddy!”

“Oh, I won’t,” you promise, voice distorted from the way she has you in her grasp. You brush a hand through her silver curls, tucking the strands away from her face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Don’t tell daddy what?”

Hana squeals, turning on her heels to sprint towards the garage door. She’s on Shouto’s leg in an instant, clutching him like her life depends on it. You stand back to your feet, brushing your thighs clean before turning back to the griddle to start another round of pancakes.

“We can’t tell you or else it won’t be a secret, duh!” Hana sticks her tongue out as she pokes Shouto’s leg, rolling her eyes like it should be obvious. “Look, Momma’s making pancakes!”

Todoroki looks across the room at you, eyes reminding you of colorful gems as they behold you. Every time you catch him staring at you, you swear it’s even more infatuated than the last, his love for you only growing as time passes.

“Is she?” He peels her from his leg to shift her into his arms, holding her securely against his side. Todoroki walks over to you, leaning into the counter so he’s close enough that you can reach him but far enough that he can’t burn Hana on the griddle.

“You’re back quicker than I expected,” you admit, pouring batter out onto the stovetop. You grab the spatula, prepared to flip once they look done enough, “Did you pull something?”

Shouto shakes his head, leaning forward to intercept you with a kiss to the lips, “I just missed you.”

“Ew, gross! Kissing means cooties!” Hana pushes your faces apart, a hand on your mouths as she dramatically lolls her tongue out of her mouth to prove her disgust.

You chuckle, leaning forward to brush her hair from her eyes again, tucking it behind her ear even though you know it will spring forward not long after. Your eyes flash from her to her father, watching the pride settle into his irises, solidifying them even more. A gentle touch of your hand to his bicep brings him back to you, gaze unwavering as he maps out the features of your face yet again, each time finding something new to behold.

“Well, that means you have time to shower before we eat,” you squeeze his arm and return to your station at the griddle, flipping the next set of pancakes. “I’ve still got to make eggs and bacon, and some hash browns for the princess.”

Hana is beaming, bright smile tugging on the strings of your heart, “Momma makes the best hash browns.”

Todoroki places her back down on the ground, patting her backside as a silent gesture to tell her to go play. She takes his hint, sprinting back into the living room to resume her tea party with a stuffed elephant and a Ken barbie doll.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You never-ooh.”

He’s got you by the neck with one hand, the other anchoring to your hip to hold you close. Todoroki melds your mouths together, the heat of his body quickening your pulse. He steps closer, knee between your thighs so you can feel the hard bulge pressing into the fabric of his running shorts.

You hum as he parts from you, pancakes momentarily forgotten in the wake of his affections. You pat your hands on his chest, gnawing on your lower lip, “Smooth one, Todoroki.”

Shouto pinches your hip, growing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You. Me. Nap time.”

“Oh?” you ask as he unwinds himself from you, nudging your body back towards the griddle.

“And I’m not talking about sleeping.”

Todoroki disappears from around the corner, slipping up the stairs to your now shared bedroom.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips. When you go to turn this set of pancakes, the diamond sitting on your left hand catches the luminescent lights of the kitchen and you marvel at it. You roll your ring around on your finger, trying to find a different angle to appreciate it from, but you’ve already memorized the shape of it after three years of marriage.

Your palm finds the gentle swell of your navel beneath the baggy t-shirt you’re wearing, one of Shouto’s early proofs for a new merchandise design. You bite your lip and look down, speaking to the rustling new life currently blooming in your belly, “Here’s to tomorrow, little one. May it always be just a little better than today.”

The pancakes are done and the bacon is sizzling when Shouto returns with damp hair and a pair of sweats on the lower half of his body. He curls an arm around you from behind, kissing your shoulder, “Smells good, love.”

You turn to offer him a kiss, which he takes with fervor. Hana voices her disgust from her seat at the table, but Shouto hushes her quickly with a playful rise of his eyebrow, pointed finger making her giggle.

The three of you are sat down to breakfast, just like any other Saturday, but this one feels special for some reason. You can’t quite make it out; maybe it’s the sun shining outside or the crisp breeze blowing through the open windows, but your soul is settled in a way that can only be achieved by utter bliss.

“Hey,” Shouto calls you from your stupor, “your choco-chip pancakes are going cold.”

You blink slowly, returning your gaze to him, a gentle smile on your face.

At least you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with someone as mindful and kind as Todoroki Shouto.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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