#all these abled bitches take shit for granted i swear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miekasa · 4 years ago

Text

six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex.

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team.

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.”

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #eren x reader

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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years ago

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink?

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.”

“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff.

“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron.

“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head.

“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out.

You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man.

“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything.

“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk.

“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.”

“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you.

“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.”

“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.”

“Maybe y’all can work through this-“

“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’

“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it.

“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.”

“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?”

“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded.

“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?”

“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.”

Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes.

“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.”

“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better.

“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.”

“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses.

“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.”

“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“

“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.”

“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire.

“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle.

“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out.

“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register.

While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him.

“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance.

“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?”

“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”

“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat.

He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here.

The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place.

He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.

As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen.

“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in.

You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.

“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.

You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.

You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.

“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.

“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”

“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.

“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.

“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.

“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”

“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.

“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”

“They just left you?”

“I chose to stay.”

“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.

“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”

“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.

“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.

“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.

“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.

“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.

“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.

He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.

He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?

He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.

By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.

He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.

You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.

“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.

“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”

“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”

“Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”

You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.

“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”

“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities.

The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.

He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.

In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.

He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?

PART TWO

#lee bodecker #the devil all the time #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan characters #lee bodecker x reader smut #angst #smut

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restapesta · 3 years ago

Note

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him��Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #*ficlet #i only know about bipolar from thw show so don't hold my word for anything written in this #btw anon hope you have a wonderful day #thank you for the ask!

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messy-nonbinary · 4 years ago

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Little Girl in Training

Chapter 9 - She’s going to find you.

TW: Dark!Natasha, dark!Steve Rogers, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of past and future kidnapping, forced age regression

Paring: Dark!Mommy!Natasha x fem!reader

Summary: Since your escape, Natasha has been wondering what she’s going to do to you. But for now, she’s knows she’s going to find you.

a/n- This the last chapter before the finale! There will be two endings because I'm an indecisive piece of shit so stay tuned for that!!

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Natasha groaned as she strained her eyes open. The bright lights on the ceiling made her head hurt. She struggled to get up, only to have a hand push back down. “You need rest, Nat.” Natasha looked to the familiar voice, smiling when she saw Steve. “Did you find her?” Steve shook his head and it caused her to frown.

“She ditched your car at a gas station and stole another one. We weren’t able to track it but told the local police to put out a BOLO.” Steve said and Natasha went to get up again. “Natasha you can’t. You lost a lot of blood. You need to let your body heal.”

“I need to find her. What if something happens to her?”

“We’ll find her, Nat. But it won’t do any good if you can’t even take care of her.” He said, gently pushing her back down. She winched and he quickly took his hand off her. “Sorry..” He muttered. “It’s fine. But you’re right. I need to make sure I’m ready to deal with her first.” Steve smiled at her willingness to get better. “Just tell me what you find?” She asked and Steve nodded. “Of course. Just tell FRIDAY if you need one of us, okay?”

She nodded and Steve left, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She was pissed at you. You left her! She thought that you loved her! Granted, you never said it back but she was waiting! Her time spent with you was the most patient she had ever been in her life! Why did you have to run? It was that fucking nightmare, wasn’t it? It erased everything that she did!

How could she be so fucking naïve? You were just pretending so that you could escape, weren’t you?

Fucking bitch.

Once she found you, she was going to have Wanda erase your memories of that room and all the nightmares. If she found you. No. She can’t think like that. She is going to find you.

It doesn’t matter how long it’ll take her. She will not stop until she does. Just for right now, she had to learn how to let other people help her out.

She was dying inside right now. She should be looking for you. She should be the one that finds you. But Steve was right. How would she be able to take care of you once you were found if she was still hurt?

Natasha waited for about an hour before she called Steve back in the infirmary. She couldn’t control her anxiety and she was getting antsy.

“Have you found her yet?” She hastily asked when Steve walked in. He shook his head. “She got almost an hour head start and she’s moving fast. She’s managed to make it to Pennsylvania despite all the police looking for her. Saw her on CCTV outside a gas station.”

“Fuck. She’s got family in Virginia. Maybe that’s where she’s going?” Natasha suggested. Steve nodded. “I’ll check it out for you.”

“Great. Thank you. Oh and can you get Wanda for me?” She asked. “Sure. I’ll let her know you need her.” Steve turned to leave and Natasha grabbed his forearm, stopping him.

“Steve. Bring her back to me. Please.”

“We’re working on it. We’ll get her back.” Steve promised. “I just- I miss her.” She spoke, tears blurring her vision. “I know, Nat. I know.”

“I just keep thinking- how dumb could I have been? She was doing so well. I thought that what I was doing was working.”

“You’re not dumb, Natasha. She just needs a little more time. That’s all. You just wanted to rush things. But these things can’t be rushed.”

“I know. I know. Now go get my little girl back.” Natasha demanded, wiping away her tears. Steve smiled at her. “Yes ma’am.”

------

Taglist: @apollonshootafar @agender-idiot @cherry-pixked @coollemonsaresour @fulltrashblaze @janelongxox @battleg03 @sav06nat @emilyprentisslittlewhore

Ask to be added or removed! Slashed names are unable to be tagged.

#Mommy!Natasha #dark!natasha romanoff #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha x reader #dark!natasha romanoff x little!reader #natasha romanoff x little!reader #dark!mommy!natasha #mommy!natasha romanoff x little!reader #forced age regression #minors dni

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jeonqqin · 5 years ago

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man up. [m] | pt. 1

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: language, eventual smut, minho is a little bitch

A/N: I pulled little tropes from pretty much every Netflix teen rom-com so if you see those little allusions then that’s why,, also I hope you all don’t mind that I made this into a series!

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

Your eyes blurred over the words that were held out in front of you, every page harder to remember than the last.

It was your fault you were in the library studying during lunch period. You were the one that decided to procrastinate after all. But you also had no idea what was going to be on the exam in your statistics class. How could you start studying when you had no idea what you were meant to be studying? At least, that was your genius excuse for not touching your statistics book all week.

Resting your head on your hand, your eyes briefly wandered off of your book and directly up into a pair of pretty brown ones. They were already looking at you; gaze intense and flirty. It had you quickly looking back down at your book on instinct, this time without the intention of actually reading anything.

No way.

The boy sitting directly across from you was cute—no doubt about that. It was hard to disregard just how pretty he was with his classic big brown eyes and flat brown hair. At least, you couldn’t ignore him when he was clearly looking at you. Peeking up to make sure you weren’t seeing things, you caught his gaze again. And as his lip quirked up, you knew it wasn’t just a coincidence—he was deliberately looking at you. A childish giddiness flooded your stomach at the realization.

He smiled at you; charming and sweet.

“Do you know anything about political science?”

It took you a second to process what he asked, but you eventually shook your head with a smile. “D’you know anything about the statistics exam next Wednesday?”

He shrugged playfully. “Not a clue.”

“Well, it looks like we’re in the same boat then.”

“Utterly screwed by the school system?”

Snorting loudly, you instantly received an unhappy glare from the librarian and a followed up hush. An apology was on the tip of your tongue, but with the newfound fear of making another noise, you opted to send her a timid wave. Neither you nor the cute stranger moved until she returned to her book. But then he was slinking over and taking the seat beside you.

You could’ve squealed—imagine being such a teenage girl that you were so ecstatic to sit next to a cute guy. You were practically bouncing in your seat.

“At least I know that there’s someone else who can understand my worries,” he whispered, turning in his chair to face you completely.

You scoffed, eyeing the librarian for a moment before blinking back at the boy in front of you.

“Yeah right. You could ask the entire student body and they would all reply in one collective groan.”

“You’re not wrong there.” He hummed. “Thanks for not making me feel like a complete loser for procrastinating.”

“Oh, you’re still a loser for procrastinating,” you said, attempting to hold back your smile as he looked at you with a raised brow. “You’re just not the only one now.”

He made a playful noise of anguish, nodding his head with a silent laugh. “Ouch. That hurts coming from a mystery girl.”

You shrugged coyly, letting him take that as your answer before you leaned back against your palm.

“Maybe,” he paused for a moment, glancing around to the occupied librarian and continuing, “After classes, we could go out for coffee. Y’know—to get better acquainted. Unless you wanted me to keep calling you ‘mystery girl’.”

You pretended to weigh your options in your head, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling and an uncontrollable smile slipping onto your lips.

You were getting asked out. And every possible thing was going right; he was cute, he was witty, there was a connection, there were no interruptions—

“Are you free at six?”

Your mouth opened to reply a quick “yes”, but suddenly there were a set of hands landing firmly on your shoulders and you could feel the familiar brush of soft hair against your cheek.

“No sir, she is not free.”

The subtly stern voice of your brother replied, and the color of the stranger's face in front of you went pale as his eyes darted between you and the intruder beside you. “But thanks for asking.”

“Sorry, Minho—man, I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. I swear.” Came the panicked reply.

You winced, expression going sour as the apologies flew out of the boy’s mouth at a rapid pace.

“Sister.” Minho corrected, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face that read disaster.

And then after a few more unsettling glares and passive-aggressive comments from your older brother, the guy was gone, his head lowered to his chest. You had seen worse. There had been many more that happened to end in bruises and a visit from campus security, so a little humiliation wasn’t so terrible.

But fucking hell—there goes another one.

“You need to stop doing that,” you said, swiping all your books into your bag as your brother watched the poor soul leave the library with satisfaction.

Minho scoffed. “What? Weeding out the losers that run at a little sign of conflict?” He tisked patronizingly. “Do you really want to be in a relationship with someone who pisses themselves because your brother was being a little protective? I’m not going to be here forever, and who will be the one to watch out for you then? Certainly not Mr. Are-You-Free-At-Six.”

A heavy sigh left your lips. You had heard his speech before and you had been infuriated. But after years of the same response and lecture, you grew numb to the feeling of anger towards your brother.

“Who said I even needed protecting?”

“Me. I’m your big brother, I know what’s best for you.” He replied curtly, grabbing your bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own.

You scowled, following him as he charmingly waved at the librarian on your way out. She chuckled under her breath and fluttered her fingers towards Minho, absolutely no intention of even glancing at you. Minho was a very likable person. He had always been able to use his endless pool of charisma to get on anyone’s good side, and that had opened up many opportunities for him.

Unfortunately, your brother had many sides to him, and one of them had manifested from his obsessive need to keep you away from any and all possible danger in life. That part of him was what had every guy running for the hills.

You were a freshman in college, and every relationship you had was ruined, courtesy of your older brother.

The two of you merged into the crowded halls filled with unrushed university students, several people greeting Minho with friendly gestures that you couldn’t keep up with. It was as if no one even saw you—you supposed that was also Minho’s fault.

“I have class now,” you huffed, tugging your bag from his shoulder and nearly making him stumble into a wall. “Okay? Am I allowed to continue my education, oh great brother of mine?”

Minho made a mocking face in your direction. “Haha. Very funny, young lady. Now don’t go seducing any more good-for-nothing’s while I’m gone. Got it?”

“I’m going to kill you one of these days.”

Minho snorted, spinning on his heel towards the direction of his own class.

“And I’ll be waiting with open arms, little sister!”

“Eat shit, Minho!”

With a visible bounce in his step he disappeared behind the corner, supposedly heading to his next class, but you knew it was just a matter of time before he would get sidetracked and distracted along the way. He was always excited to see you around campus, seeing you—his baby sister—just made his day better.

Generally, you found yourself smiling after a good interaction with your brother, but then he would go and pull the ‘protective brother’ card and suddenly you had the urge to rip his throat out. Minho knew you were growing up and pretty soon his intrusions wouldn’t be seen as just a nuisance, and they would turn into more of an invasion of your personal life. But you could see how much that realization hurt him, so you held back.

You settled into your seat as one of the first people in the lecture hall, watching as your professor rubbed his eyes and set up the slides for the class.

On your second day of class, your professor had snapped at one of the students for being late for his lecture, and it scared the shit out of you. The next day he apologized and used the excuse of being hungover and hungry, and it opened your eyes to the fact that you weren’t in high school anymore. You were surrounded by adults—careless and irresponsible adults, granted, but they were old enough to understand your professor’s woes.

Still, you would never find yourself arriving late, just in case you caught him on one of his bad days.

“Y/n,”

The cheery voice startled you out of your stupor.

“Good morning, my darling.”

Your eyes rolled back, though a smile still grew on your face. A fleeting thought ran through your head, you shouldn’t have been surprised, he did it every morning. You offered him a sparing glance as he stepped up to your seat, falling back into the uncomfortable chair beside you.

“Hi, Jisung,” you chuckled as his arm swung around your shoulders.

You decided to ignore the way the cut of his sleeves allowed you to get a glimpse of the muscle that was starting to form.

Han Jisung was your brother’s best friend, an annoying loud-mouth who was in too many of your classes for it to be a coincidence. He had been by Minho’s side for most of his life, and therefore, most of yours. And he flirted with you for as long as you could remember.

Just as the majority of the students started to flood the hall, Jisung pulled an apple out of his bag, holding it out for you to take.

“I noticed that you hadn’t gone to lunch with Felix today, and I figured since you’re looking berry cute today—” He grabbed your hand, placing the fruit into your palm. “Sorry. I didn't have any lines for apples.”

And the pickup lines—the many, many pickup lines.

“Really? Nothing?” You asked.

His head shook, eyes coy.

You aided him, shaking the apple in front of his face, “You’re the apple of my eye?”

“Ah…” He nodded in realization, seemingly bummed for not thinking of that one before. But then suddenly a smirk flickered over his features and he was pinching your cheek, “I knew you were in love with me.”

You turned away from his grabbing hand, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes. His talent was finding a way to flirt with you, and at times you had wondered how he was so good at it.

Practice made perfect, you guessed.

You smiled. “Uh-huh.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was in love with you—

“Hyunae told me to start eating more fruit, so she threw the apple into my bag when I wasn’t looking.”

—but Han Jisung had a girlfriend, and she was so much more than you could ever be.

Not that you cared at all.

“So you two are doing well?” You asked, feigning interest as you reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop. Maybe if you were stealthy enough you would be able to sneak in some studying while your professor went on about how traffic signs affected climate change—or whatever it was that he was talking about that week.

No wonder why you had no idea what you were doing.

Jisung hummed, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah. She’s still bossy, but that’s just Hyunae.”

“I heard she got into quite the discussion with Hyunjin this morning.”

You were swinging pretty low, but you weren’t the biggest fan of Hyunae to begin with, so there was a small part of you that enjoyed picking at the scabs she left behind.

Okay, there was a pretty big part of you.

“Don’t remind me,” he grunted. “One day their fights will end with murder. And it’ll be me who is found dead.”

“Next time they get into an argument just slip away and let campus security deal with the mess. Let the bitches be bitches.”

Your suggestion was in the form of a joke, but really, you meant every word.

Hyunae easily rivaled Hyunjin’s bitchiness, and in your group of friends, that statement had weight to it. Not just anyone could argue with Hyunjin and step away unscathed, but she managed to do so just about every day. You would’ve been impressed had she ever shown you any kindness, but she hated you from day one. You were only returning the favor by rooting for Hyunjin until he somehow figured out how to kill someone with his words.

He had come close before, so you kept your fingers crossed.

“Well that bitch is a goddess in bed,” Jisung snickered, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “And frankly it’s hot when someone’s bossy during sex—”

“Are we talking about Hyunae or Hyunjin now?”

Jisung laughed sarcastically, throwing a sneer your way. “Bravo. You want a medal for the joke of the year?”

“Nah, I have plenty of better jokes that imply that you like boys.” You absentmindedly glanced back towards your professor as he began the lecture, his voice as uninterested as your gaze. “Though I have yet to make one about your secret relationship with my brother.”

Jisung nodded with fake enthusiasm and said, “That’s nice but I’m not listening to you anymore.”

“The girls on campus would pay big bucks for that sex tape.”

“Shut up before I throw up on you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like me.” You pouted half-assed, typing notes that you would never use solely because their only purpose was to make it seem like you cared. Though by the look of it, the professor probably gave less of a shit than you anyway.

Jisung’s teasing and inappropriate comments hardly bothered you anymore, especially since you knew how to counter them with your own.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he mused, though you both knew the reason why he was taking the class was because he needed the credits and the teacher didn’t care if you botched all of your tests as long as the final was double-spaced and had your name at the top.

“Because I’m your favorite.” You whispered, lifting your pointer finger to your lips. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Minho.”

“As if. Get your head out of your ass.”

“Duly noted.”

You loved Jisung.

You loved him in the same way you loved your brother; you didn’t want to love him, but for whatever twisted reason, the universe made it so. Too bad you didn’t think of Jisung as a brother—the game of life was cruel that way. It sucked that he was such a good… everything. Han Jisung was a good friend, a good boyfriend, and annoyingly one of the best people you had ever met.

Not that you would ever admit that to him and risk his head inflating to the size of Felix’s stuffed animal collection.

Dammit, you really didn’t want to love that moron.

Maybe you could get away with being in like with him instead.

“Y/n!”

Your head swiveled, just barely catching a flash of ridiculous purple hair before a hold on your wrist was stopping you mid-stride.

“Owie,” was what came out of your mouth, your gaze set into a glare at your aggressor.

Though, Felix wasn’t fazed by your scowl. He was too excited—or pissed, it was hard to tell—about whatever he wanted to tell you. But knowing him, his news probably had something to do with the meme he posted on Twitter that morning—you did see it, and no, you weren’t very impressed. You expected better than the overused picture of the woman yelling at that cat at the dinner table. Caption be damned, that meme wasn’t even good anymore.

Felix was followed by his shorter but considerably stronger lackey. Without even looking at him you already knew Changbin’s biceps were popping under the black shirt he wore, the whole aesthetic making him look way more intimidating than he was.

“Where were you?” Felix asked, smacking your arm hard enough to gain your attention. “You didn’t meet us for lunch.”

“Maybe because I don’t appreciate your abuse.”

“Haha. Seriously,” he griped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why’d you ditch me?”

You had been friends with Felix for who knows how long, but you would never get used to how needy the boy was. You and your brother sure grabbed a couple of good ones.

“I had to study.” You admitted with a huff, though you already knew your excuse wouldn’t be enough for Felix.

“Okay, one—you never do that.” He countered before flashing you a look. “And two—liar.”

You set your gaze on Changbin for some support, but the boy simply avoided your eyes as his way of saying “you’re on your own here”.

You turned back to Felix with a groan. Changbin never helped you ever, the bastard.

“Lix I have a dumb test in statistics next week and for whatever reason, all I can remember right now is that the SREB3 gene in zebrafish can cure cancer or something.”

“That has nothing to do with statistics—”

“And is also very wrong. Are you even paying attention in biology?” Changbin asked, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust.

You motioned to Changbin to prove your point. “Hence the reason why I was in the library.”

Felix suddenly tilted his head back and did that thing where he looked like he was trying to convince himself that living was worth it.

He sighed. “Okay, I’m calling Seungmin—”

At his words, you all but shrieked, a hand swatting Felix’s shoulder instinctively.

Seungmin was a friend of Hyunjin’s, which indirectly made him a friend of yours. But the relationship between the two of you could only be classified as rocky considering he felt the need to tell you just how much he wanted to, and you quote, “throw a rock at your head”. Ironically enough, the feeling was mutual.

But you would never say that to his face because that would most likely lead him to complete the task.

“You promised to never do that to me again!” You cried, throwing yourself against Felix’s boney shoulder.

This time was Felix’s turn to look at Changbin and search for help, but he was met with the same passive reaction as you had received. Honestly, you didn’t know why anyone tried anymore.

“He’s not that bad, Y/n.”

You gaped, disbelieving of your friend’s words. “You can’t be serious. He’s the devil! He preys on the weak, and then spits out their bones, Felix.”

“He tutored you once and you got a ninety-eight on your exam.”

“After hours of torture and anguish.”

Felix gave you an unsympathetic look before plucking his phone from Changbin’s back pocket, “I’m calling him.”

With a glare, you folded your arms over your chest. “Remember this moment the next time you ask me to revise your Tinder bio.”

“Joke’s on you. Changbin gives better advice and he doesn’t laugh at me.”

You snorted despite yourself.

But before Felix could lift the phone to his ear, Changbin’s began to ring obnoxiously in his pocket, and you were ready to bow and praise whichever deity in the sky that decided to bless you with such luck.

And like a child, you stuck out your tongue.

“What’s up?” Changbin hummed, turning away from the two of you. “Did you get all of your stuff in the apartment yet…?”

Changbin and Minho were roommates and had been since Changbin was a freshman. The two worked well together in the sense that they were both loud as hell and could (and hopefully never will) sleep through a stampede of elephants in their living room.

Felix slipped his phone into his pocket, unabashedly listening to the conversation just as you were.

“They must’ve finally found someone interested in moving in.”

They had always talked about renting with someone else, but along with being the worst people to live with, the duo was picky as hell. Pigs would fly and snowballs would be living in hell the moment they let someone else move in with them.

“Okay, but is Minho going to let you turn the office into a recording room?”

You froze, a remark on the tip of your tongue.

Changbin was talking on the phone about recording—an activity that you knew for a fact that only two people in your life had ever taken part in—and moving into Minho and Changbin’s shared apartment.

Now, you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box but connecting all the dots wasn’t too difficult.

“Are you crazy?”

Not only was the idea of Jisung moving into Minho’s apartment a terrible one, but it would also compromise the only place you could relax in peace. Your dorm was hell (for reasons you didn’t want to relive) and you weren’t allowed anywhere near the boys' dorm. You were currently on the RA’s shit-list ever since the misunderstanding that went down last semester—

Bad timing for a room check one night when you, Felix, and Hyunjin were in a compromising position.

If Jisung moved in with Minho, you would then be spending more time with him, and all the hard work you spent on keeping your distance would’ve been for nothing. You’d probably see his monster of a girlfriend around regularly as well, and you didn’t want to witness any of that in your lifetime.

Time to welcome the snowballs to hell, because that was where you were headed.

Hoisting your bag over your shoulder, you positioned yourself to run.

“Lix, I’m sorry but I have to go beat some sense into my brother! Maybe we can talk to Seungmin on a day when I feel like dying from blunt force trauma.”

You didn’t bother to wait for the yelling as you took off through the quad.

The wind slapped you in the face the moment you were away from the cover of the university buildings, and you were suddenly second-guessing the escapade. Though, you simply chalked your reluctance up to laziness and continued forward. Minho’s apartment wasn’t far from the university, and after his little stunt in the library, you were looking forward to kicking his ass in the privacy of his home.

You pulled your spare key from your bag as you finally approached the complex, eager to get away from the nipping wind. Because fuck you for wearing a t-shirt in forty-degree weather.

Pushing the door open, you threw your bag inside recklessly, “Minho, you flat-faced asshole. You tell me right now that Jisung isn’t your new—”

But you screeched to a stop as your eyes locked onto someone who definitely wasn’t Minho.

“Roommate.”

You swallowed.

A man with perfectly styled black hair and no sleeves on his shirt sat on your brother's couch, a pair of thick headphones covering his ears and a laptop resting on his thick thighs. His eyes darted up to meet your gaze as the door closed behind you, and a single brow raised as you stood in front him in a stupor.

“Hello,” he pulled his headphones down to hang around his neck, cocking his head in amusement. “I am neither Minho nor Jisung, and I really hope I’m not a flat-faced asshole. Can I help you?”

You floundered for a second, mouth open. “I mean—I was looking for my brother. Changbin was on the phone with their new roommate, and I just assumed…”

“You thought that Jisung was his new roommate?” He snickered, carefully placing his labeled laptop onto the couch and lifting to his feet.

You were tempted to hang your head in shame and leave with your confidence shattered. But his attractive gaze was enough to convince you to stay put.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well,” the stranger’s expression softened, his hand reaching forward. “I’m Chan. Your brother’s new roommate.”

You gave his hand a quick glance before taking it.

“I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

New roommate: not as terrible as you expected it to be.

The more you looked at him, the more you wanted to tell him how beautiful he was. Though you would have to be delusional to actually admit that out loud to a complete stranger, it was surprisingly tempting.

And… you were still holding his hand.

“Oh, uh—sorry.”

Releasing his grip, you laughed awkwardly, feeling the heat rise up your face and engulf your ears.

Damn your brother and his affinity for making friends with every gorgeous person that crossed his path. He was going to kill you eventually, between his protectiveness that shattered your social life and all his model-like friends that continued to claw their way into your heart.

A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two of you while you both took a second to consider each other. Chan wasn’t your conventionally beautiful person like Hyunjin, nor was he completely rough around the edges like Changbin. His hair was a bit wild, possibly due to the lack of product, but it was combed through and hung around his eyes nicely. A stark contrast from the gelled and styled boy you had been infatuated with.

Your eyes fell onto the coffee table between you, neck growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jisung, even with such an attractive stranger standing right in front of you.

You shut your eyes, stilling yourself as you took in a deep breath.

“So…” you drawled, avoiding his amused gaze. “Recording, huh?”

That settled it, you were an idiot.

Chan snorted out loud, finding your innocent question cute.

“I’m a producer.” Chan supplied, shifting closer to you in order to lean against the couch. “I haven’t been able to record my own songs for a while though. That’s why I’ve been trying to convince Minho to let me turn his office into a recording room. I have all the soundproof padding and everything, all I need is to guilt-trip him into letting me put it up.”

You nodded in understanding, glancing over towards the not so office that Minho was currently using as a storage room.

If anyone was ever surprised by the number of bundles he had in his room, they would drop dead at the sight of what was behind that door.

It was bundle hell.

Your voice rang out, “That would probably take you all day on your own. It’s pretty disastrous in there.”

“Is there an implication there?” He snarked, mock question in his voice.

“I help you clean, and you show me what you have on that little laptop of yours.”

Chan hummed, his eyes tracing over you and then over to his precious laptop resting off to the side. He had always been cautious about showing people his music, there were too many outcomes that he didn’t like thinking about. But you were looking at him with this excited little grin and he was finding it hard to say no.

You were dangerous.

“I can get behind that deal,” Chan concluded.

“Great,” you chirped without a second of hesitation. “Let’s go.”

But Chan’s strong grip stopped you as you attempted to pass and you couldn’t help but focus your eyes on the veins that ran up his bare arms.

His eyebrow raised, amused. “We’re just going to barge in there and start cleaning?”

“Would you rather wait for the bundles to gain consciousness and invite us in?”

Chan couldn’t help but bark a laugh at your sarcasm. “Of course not. I just wanted to ask for Minho’s permission first—”

You paused him with the raise of your hand, “There’s one thing you will learn about my brother; he never says yes.”

Sensing a seriousness behind your tone, Chan nodded, suddenly open to all of your suggestions.

“Lead the way then.” Chan encouraged, gesturing forward and releasing your arm.

“My pleasure.”

But just as you were about to reach for the handle of the spare room, you remembered something—

The fact that you were a (stupid and unemployed) college student currently paying for a failing test grade in her statistics class.

You cursed under your breath, pausing in your stride long enough to prompt Chan’s questioning gaze, and damn it, it was adorable the way he cocked his head to the side.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

Your face twisted in thought, “Probably…”

“And…?”

You cleared your throat, finally pulling your eyes away from the chipping white paint of the door.

“Do you perhaps know anything about statistics?”

2K notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

All I Need

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Words: 4512

Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.

Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!

A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more!

Checkout my masterlist and join my taglist if your inclined!

“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.

You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.

“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.

“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.

You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.

He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.

“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.

“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.

“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.

“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”

“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.

“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”

“Sure, what’re you thinking?”

You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”

“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.

“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.

Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.

“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”

He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.

“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”

“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”

You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.

You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.

Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.

You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.

“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.

“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.

“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.

“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”

“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.

“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.

You chewed your lip as you thought about it.

Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.

Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.

They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.

You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.

“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”

He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.

“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.

“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.

“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”

He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.

Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.

“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.

“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.

“And your head?”

“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.

You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.

“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”

You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.

Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.

“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.

“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”

“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”

“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”

“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.

“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.

“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”

He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.

“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.

“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.

He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”

“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.

“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”

“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”

“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.

You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.

“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”

“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.

You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.

Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.

You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.

“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.

“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.

He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.

“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”

You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.

You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.

“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”

He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.

He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.

He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.

Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.

He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.

You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.

Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.

“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.

He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.

“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”

You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.

Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.

“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.

“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.

You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.

“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”

You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.

Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.

You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.

“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.

“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.

You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.

His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.

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416 notes · View notes

drakenology · 4 years ago

Text

I Hate Everything About You - Dabi

warnings: ANGST, smut, daddy kink, mentions of rape,violence, AND swearing (cause im a potty mouth)

author’s note: this lil story is inspired by my favorite song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace. im a lil emo bitch ok? I recommend listening to the song to get a better perspective of how the emotions of the lyrics and the story goes hand in hand. the chorus goes like “I hate everything about you. why do i love you?” and I immediately thought of something angsty and raw to write. hope yall enjoy! this one might be a little long.

summary: You and Dabi have worked together as villians for as long as you can remember but you two don’t get along at all. is this truly hatred or is this repressed feelings coming to surface?

You hated heroism. You viewed it as weak and meaningless. When both of your parents were murdered by an anonymous killer and no one came to their rescue when they could very well have been saved, something dark took over your spirit. You snapped. At the tender age of 17, your parents did not receive justice for the act of violence committed against them. The police told you there “wasn’t enough evidence” and that the killer had most likely killed himself.

There were simply too many holes in the case for it to be solved. Obviously this infuriated you. So much in fact that you planned to blow up the entire police precinct.

And you did.

Now being on the run at only 17 you fell into a life of crime, committing yourself to being a villain who killed police officers off duty earning yourself the villain name “Cop Killer” from the authorities. Not to mention your very dangerous quirk called “Leech”. You were able drain anyone you gazed at of their blood, the gaze having to be completely focused on the person’s eyes. Once concentrated enough it becomes hard for the person to look away from you. To trigger your quirk, you have to say the word “leech” in order to essentially stop the flow of someone’s blood to their heart; their blood being extracted from their veins to yours. The blood only made your quirk stronger as you can now manipulate it and use it in combat. You had enough control to where you could take a little or take it all. The stolen blood was also good for increasing your stamina and speed for a short period, manifesting a weapon with the blood you stole and of course leeching the person of their blood entirely, instantly killing them. The murders you committed granted you the number one spot of Japan’s wanted list. You were also the youngest assasin in Japan at the time so you had to move around a lot. You spent your teenage years living in abandoned buildings and sketchy motels; robbing, stealing and of course murdering for survival.

The day you met the League of Villains was your 23rd birthday. As a treat to yourself, you had cornered one of the dirtiest cops you had ever encountered. He was a known sex trafficker, a thief as well as a disgusting rapist. You had him right where you wanted him; wearing a disguise to hide your true visage in order to avoid being recognized. You had pretended to be a love interest to the cop, sitting in the seedy hotel room he rented to have a little “privacy” with you.

“Oh baby, you don’t know what you do to me. I wanna see that pretty little mouth of yours around my cock. Get on your knees for me.” The police man said, the sleazy bastard unbuckling his belt. You nod, secretly being disgusted by this man. But you had to keep your cool. You got down on your knees and took his hard cock into your hands and pumped, looking him directly in the eyes as you did so.

“Yeah, baby. You’re so hot.” He groaned, keeping his eyes locked on yours almost instinctively as sweat collected on his brow.

“Thanks.. but your time’s up, you sick fuck.” you say, standing up on your feet. You straddle him, watching the cop’s eyes become terrified as he finally realizes who you really are.

“Leech.” You say as you watched your quirk take effect. The reaction was instant as he starts to gasp and grab at his heart, clinging onto his last minutes of life as he died on the hotel bed. You moan as his blood is transferred into yours, creating a dagger out of his blood. You slice his neck, licking whatever was left off of his cold throat. You laugh, searching his dead body to take whatever he had on his person; money, personal possessions and his gun. Just as you’re about to get up and leave you get the feeling that you aren’t alone. You turn and see none other than the villain you had seen all over local news.

Shigaraki.

He chuckles dryly, admiring your work at killing the cop underneath you.

“Well done, little girl.” He said, peering over your shoulder to get a good look at the mess you made of him. You go to ask how the hell he got into the room until you hear the sound of police sirens blaring outside.

“We have the entire hotel surrounded. There are Heros on the way to assist us. Surrender now or face the consequences.” You hear the cops say on a megaphone.

“Shit.” You mumble, quickly grabbing your things; planning your escape in your head.

“Listen, I’ve admired your work since your attack on that police station, Cop Killer.” Shigaraki said. “We could use someone like you in the League of Villains. My friend Kurogiri here can get us both out of here in one piece. But only with your consent of course.”

You think for a moment. You’d rather make a smooth escape than risk being arrested. So you agree.

“We’ll explain everything once we get back to base.” Kurogiri says, morphing himself through the cracks of the door.

Kurogiri takes both you and Shigaraki and consumed you both into his portals, leading you to the secret hide-out of the League of Villains. You look around, your vision a little hazy from being in the dark portal. You see a few other people standing in the lobby. A guy with a weird mask on with two sides on it eagerly introduced himself as Twice. You see a cute girl that looked a little young to be in a place like this.

“Toga Himiko. Nice to meet ya. Hey, you’re way prettier in person. The police drawing of you is really unflattering.” She says, waving at you. You smile meekly as you turn away to see this guy standing at the corner of the bar. He had burn scars all over his face and neck, dark hair and the most mysterious eyes you’ve ever seen. You met his gaze when you noticed him staring at you, sizing you up. You found his stare threatening and kind of alluring. You almost couldn’t look away.

“Don’t stare at me for too long, Cop Killer. I know what those eyes can do.” He said sarcastically, not even caring to introduce himself. He felt familiar, like you’ve known him for a long time. You rolled your eyes and walked over to Shigaraki.

“Look, if you think just because you got me out of a tight spot that I’m just gonna beg to work for you, you’re wrong. I work alone.” You said, adjusting the top of your outfit.

“I know. But today that changes. You see, we’ve been watching you, Cop Kill-” He says, interrupted by your loud groan.

“My name is Y/N. Please just call me by my name. My mother didn’t name me Cop Killer.” You demand, folding your arms in protest.

“But that’s what you are, Y/N. Don’t be ashamed.” Shigaraki says, inching closer to you. “Look, the services of the League of Villains aren’t free. We helped you. Now you help us. You understand don’t you, Y/N?”

You sigh, wishing you had just leapt out of a nearby window back at the hotel instead of taking help from this creep.

“Fine.” You say, looking down at your shoes.

“Wonderful.” Shigaraki says, walking away from you. “Oh and one more thing. I hate back talkers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months pass and you’re well acquainted with all the villains of the organization. You were all usually partnered up for missions; you always alternating between Toga and Dabi, who had finally told you his “name”. You grew to be pestered by Dabi. You’d much rather be paired up with Toga than Dabi any day since you and Dabi just could not get along, you both arguing like an old married couple at every mission. You couldn’t stand him. His cockiness, his elitist attitude, his aloofness. He hated you because of your attitude, you thinking you knew better than everyone else. He thought you were a spoiled brat who hasn’t done anything remarkable to even earn a spot in the League. To you, he was everything you despised about some men.

One night you were all playing a friendly game of Blackjack; which seemed to be a ritual between the members. Shigaraki didn’t bother playing but Kurogiri always seemed to watch.

“Ugh.. Fold. What do I have to do to get a decent fucking hand, huh?” Twice said, his two voices seeming to contrast in differing personality. You laugh, slamming down a perfect hand worth 21.

“I stand, bitches.” You say, winning yet another round.

“I’m bored.” Dabi says, standing up and leaving the table.

“Oh don’t be like that, Dabi. Come back!” Toga says, throwing her cards down. She sighs and stands up from the table. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m goin to bed. Nighty night, Y/N. Twice.” Everyone went their separate ways. You walk into your room and change into something more comfortable and walk outside to get some air. To your dismay, Dabi was already standing outside in the same spot you liked to chill and think.

“Yo.” He says, referring to you. You roll your eyes and walk over to him.

“What?” You say, annoyed to the point where you just want to turn around and go back inside.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Cop Killer? Don’t like me?” He asks, inching closer to you to whisper in your ear. You stand still for a moment and lunge at him, grabbing his throat and pushing him against the wall.

“Stop fucking testing me.” You say sternly, looking him deeply in the eyes with the intention to kill.

“Careful, little girl. You might just turn me on.” He says, grabbing your arm and pushing you back. You freeze, stunned at the sudden harsh movement from the tall man in front of you. ”You’re 5′4′’, sweetheart. If I wanted to, I could end you without even using my quirk. You ‘oughta be nicer to me.”

You get angrier by the second, yelling and screaming about how much you hate him all while trying to take jabs at him, throwing punches at his face. Dabi dodges every swing, smirking at your abilities. He was impressed, but he’d never tell you that.

“Huh. Keep it up and you might actually hit me.” He teased, swinging back at you, landing right on your jaw. You stumble and collect yourself, charging towards him once more. You were certain you’d hit him, the blood from someone you’ve killed earlier that day increasing your speed.

“Fuck you.” You hiss, taking another swing at him and connect, landing right on his cheek. He smirks, wiping blood from his mouth. You get cocky and go for another punch only for him to dodge you. He grabbed your arm and twisted it, pinning you against the brick wall in front of him with your back facing him.

“When?” He asked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You hated that he could so easily overpower you, making you despise him even more. He releases you from his grip and stands close to you; you feeling the warmth of his skin radiating from his body.

“Listen. You hate me and quite frankly I can’t stand you either. But you don’t see me attacking you. Try it again and I won’t be so nice next time, little girl.” Dabi said, grabbing your face to daringly look into your poisonous eyes to mock your quirk. You focus, ready to end this asshole. Suddenly his lips crash into yours. At first, you’re disgusted and fucking pissed. But then you feel yourself start involuntarily melting into his kiss. So you kiss him back with no shame, all bitter feelings leaving your mind as the kiss gets more intense. You feel his hands groping and caressing your body, his hands exploring to stop at your neck; wrapping it around. You gasp, feeling yourself get hot.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. And then you spoke. And I couldn’t stand you. But I couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to bend you over and punish you for your slick mouth. You need a good hard dicking to keep your mouth shut and I’m the one to give it to you. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?” He asked, starting to kiss your neck harshly. You moan, embarrassed at his words. He was right. You found him attractive as soon as you saw him but his attitude rubbed you the wrong way. But right here and now, you realize that you might have been hiding your true feelings behind a façade of hatred. You wanted him too and you couldn’t stand it.

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” He persists, biting into your neck. You mewl, shocked at how good he was making you feel. You almost couldn’t believe you were in this situation. It was confusing but formalities could come later. You wanted him now.

“Yes, Dabi. I wanted you to fuck me the first time I saw you.” You say quietly, feeling him reach under your shirt and bra to grab at your naked breast. You bit your lip, feeling slick pool between your legs as you fall victim to his touch.

“Get inside and go in my room. I expect you to have nothing on when I get there. Understood?” He demands, pinching your nipple lightly. You gasp, nodding at his request.

“Words. You��ve already made me angry with that stunt you pulled punching me in the face. I wouldn’t try me further.” He said, grabbing your hair and pulling it to expose more of your neck. You moan, unable to control yourself suddenly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to turn you on. Fucking asshole.

“Y-Yes, daddy- I-I mean Dabi.” You flush. Damn. You couldn’t believe you let that slip. He laughs, kissing your lips once more as he lets you go.

“Daddy works just fine.” Dabi says smirking, watching you stumble towards the door to go back inside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You knew you should just go into your own room but, God you wanted to see what he’d do to you for almost punching him. You wondered how rough he’d be, your panties soaking at the thought as you gulp and open his room door. You sat on his bed and took off your clothes, leaving your underwear on to tease him. Suddenly his door opens and it’s him. He looked you up and down, loving what he saw. But to his dismay you had on too many clothes still.

“I thought I told you to get naked, little girl.” Dabi said, pushing you onto his bed. He stood above you, running his fingers down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your panties. You shudder at his cold fingers.

“You never said naked.” You tease, looking back at him. He frowns, shaking his head.

“Man, you just love pushing my buttons don’t you? You’re gonna regret teasing me so much.” He says, pulling your panties down roughly, holding them up to his face. He smirked at the wet spot he saw on them, throwing them onto the ground. “This is gonna be fun.”

You hiss as he slid one measly finger inside you while rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb, the single finger not being enough to satisfy your craving for that certain pleasurable stretch. Somehow though, Dabi was making you feel good with that one finger. You roll your hips for more friction only to have Dabi hold you down with his other hand.

“Stop squirming so much. It makes you look desperate, doll.” He teased earning a whine from you. As if to be a little forgiving he adds another finger, watching your face twist up in pleasure. You were visually trying to hide your moans, Dabi not liking that at all.

“Come on now. It’s no fun if you don’t scream for me. Let everyone here know how good I make you feel.” He said, halting his movements. You nod, moaning loudly as he adds a third finger. Any shame or embarrassment is gone as he worked you up to your first orgasm. You grab at his sheets, trying to move for more friction only to once more be overpowered by Dabi.

“You don’t listen too well do you? I said stop squirming. You’ll have your fill but good girls wait to cum. Understand? I expect you to address me correctly this time.” He says, grabbing your face to make you look at him. Something about knowing you could kill him with your eyes turned him on, because he knew he could keep you from doing so. All he had to do was please you, knowing you won’t be able to focus on anything but screaming his name let alone his eyes.

“Y-Yes daddy.” You mewl, your eyes rolling back as he pulled out one of your breasts, sucking on your nipple harshly. The sound of your moans was music to Dabi’s ears, the only thing he ever wanted to hear come out of your mouth. He cooed praises into your ear, telling you hot sexy you are and how et your pussy is just for him. He crawls on top of you, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the sudden loss. He kissed you, ripping your bra off. He sat up and stared at the gorgeous naked woman underneath him.

“You’re so hot when you’re not talking shit.” He says, playing with your boobs. He was unsure of where to start. He wanted to please every inch of your lovely curves, his eyes drinking in your hips up to your beautiful breasts. He nearly drooled at the sight of them, your nipples seeming to perk up when he looked at them. You stare back at the man on top of you, his scars almost complimenting his skin as you watched him take off his shirt. You bit your lip as you feel a nice sized bulge grind up against your dripping core. You didn’t even notice that his pants were off, drooling at the sight of his body overpowering yours. He grinded up against you, leaning in close to your ear.

“Ready to get fucked, sweetheart?” He asked, nibbling on your ear lobe.

“Yes, god, yes!” You gasp, feeling him take off his boxers. He positioned his dick at your entrance, tapping it against you to tease you. You moan, going to grab his cock and shove it inside you but you think twice, already in trouble with him. Dabi smirks, excited to break you as he shoved himself inside you and started to rut his hips into you. You moan sinfully at the sudden stretch, loving how he filled you. You feel him speed up, not even fully adjusted to his length as you clawed at his back for dear life.

“You’re takin me so well, doll.” He said, grabbing your neck to lightly choke you. Your eyes roll back as you reveal a sinful ahegao face while he pounds you senseless. You’re moaning his name and telling him how good he feels inside you, cussing and screaming into the air as you feel yourself coming close to cumming.

“C-Can I-?” You ask, unable to finish your sentence as you feel yourself clenching around him. Dabi is relentlessly prodding at your g-spot, causing you to see stars as he notices he’s hitting that special spot. He smirks and angles himself so that he’s repeatedly hitting that spot, watching you cover your mouth as you scream. He snatched your hand away from your mouth and pinned it above your head.

“Tell me you’re sorry for punching me, kitten.” He demands, harshly pinching your nipples. You shake your head no to tease him. “No? Must need more convincing, huh brat?” He pulls out of you, you letting out a pathetic sob at the loss. He roughly flips you on your stomach and plants a hard smack on your ass. You yelp, your pussy aggravated as it throbs at the feeling of pleasure. He yanks you towards him and shoves himself back inside you, you laying flat on your stomach. You kick and scream under him, feeling him so deep it blinds you.

“Oh my god, daddy!” You whine, shoving your face into your pillow as he assaults your g-spot.

“Say it.” He demands, landing another hard smack on your ass this one sure to leave a mark.

“I-I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry!” You scream, desperate for release.

“Good girl.” He hisses. Dabi grabs your hair and lifts your head off the pillow wanting to hear the last moans you can give before you cum.

“Go ‘head and cum for me. You’ve earned it.” He says. And just like that you clench around him hard, your orgasm washing over your body as you cum all over his dick. He rides out your orgasm, only to continue pounding you earning a sharp yelp from you as you throw your head into the pillow again.

“You didn’t think it was over did you? That’s cute.” He said, taking you further. At this point you’re overstimulated, the pleasure almost painful as he worked you to another orgasm.

“God, I love you!” You scream to his delight as you cum quicker than your mind can keep up.

“I love you too. Even though you’re fucking annoying.” He hisses, unable to hold himself back anymore. He cums hot inside you, grunting as he slaps your ass one last time before pulling himself out. You moan softly, breathing heavily as he cleaned you up. He kissed up your body, you unable to move from being completely fucked out of your mind.

“When you socked me, I knew you were a keeper.” He laughed.

“Shut up.” You say, smiling into your pillow.

“HEY, YOU TWO DONE IN THERE? YOU COULD HAVE WOKEN UP THE ENITRE CITY WITH ALL THAT RACKET!” Twice shouted through the walls, turning your face red with shame.

“SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Dabi yelled back, rubbing soft circles on your ass to soothe his harsh marks on both cheeks.

bitch i.. i’m sick.

#bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha dabi #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha shouta aizawa #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha midoriya x reader #bnha todoroki x reader #bnha oc

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elldell1204 · 4 years ago

Text

Hair Me Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

Y/N wears her hair in many different styles, and her boyfriend, Spencer, seems to appreciate each one in different ways.

A/N: So, I just wanted to add, I try to make my ‘reader’ as ambiguous as possible, that way you can identify with them more. However, I struggled with this one, as I am a white female with straight hair and not much knowledge of (though deep appreciation and love for) natural or curly hair, seeing as I have little to no experience. Therefore, I have tried making this as inclusive as possible but I’m sorry if at any point seems too specific and you can’t put yourself into the story. Feel free to call me out on anything you aren’t comfortable with!

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, normal Criminal minds stuff (let me know if I missed anything)

wc - 3,217

Dutch Braids -

You and Spencer had just gotten off from work about an hour ago after a gruelling day with an equally stressful case. Which is why as soon as you were both showered, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find and waiting for the takeout to arrive, you were both sprawled out on the couch in front of a movie, having no energy left to talk, let alone move when there was a knock at the door. Seeing as you were the one with less of the other person’s body parts draped across you, you got up and answered while Spencer didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t blame him; the poor boy was exhausted.

Around twenty minutes later, you’d both eaten, leaving your plates on the coffee table in front of you with the mental promise to wash them later, and were back to snuggling into each other, getting as close as you possibly could to soothe each other after the day you had. Your head was tucked neatly into Spencer’s chest, your knees drawn up to near your chin in the foetal position, making yourself as small as possible. Spencer was the opposite; spread like a starfish with his arm around your back and his head rested against the back of the couch.

If someone were to ask you what the movie was about, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Truth is, you felt like you were stuck in-between both the lands of sleep and consciousness, due to wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend (despite him being your work partner for the best part of sixteen hours) but also wanting to sleep for three days. In attempt to make yourself just a little bit more awake, you started trying to focus on different things around you. First it was the quote on the front of the main character’s t-shirt, then it was the Metro you could faintly hear as the last train of the night rattled by, then it was Spencer’s finger tracing up and down one of your braids that you’d done quickly after your shower.

“Spence?” You murmured the first words spoken in practically an hour.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, his half-lidded eyes shifting to your face that you had lifted to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was merely a whisper, and if you weren’t listening for it, the only way you’d know he was speaking was from the vibration of his chest.

You gestured to your hair with your finger, and only when he realised did he stop what he was doing and chuckle lightly and dreamily.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not sure, it just feels soft, I guess. I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled at him, mustering up the energy to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his lips before retracting back to your previous position.

Ponytail -

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You usually like to try and stay as positive as you could be when chasing a serial, paedophilic murderer, but there’s only so many deep breaths and coffee breaks you can take before you really start to get pissed off. Not only had you been stuck in hot and sticky Texas for near a week, but you had also been put into single rooms at the hotel you were staying at. Now, not to sound ungrateful (because you very much are of the fact that you at least have a roof over your head), but only having one single bed to a room means that you can’t snuggle with Spencer after a long day, and these were proving to be very long days.

And to add to the problem, Hotch was constantly on edge since the start of the case, with the victims looking a hell of a lot like Jack, and when you were the closest person to him on that first day when his tensions finally boiled over, you had been the one in the firing line of his rage. Which you can take. You knew he didn’t mean it, and if he had to take his frustrations out on someone for a few days so he could do his job with a clearer head, you were happy to be the target.

But now after a particularly rough six days, your patience was wearing thin, and everyone on the team could see it, which is why they offered you and Spencer any jobs they were assigned that would get them out of the stifling police precinct. And you knew they had good intentions, but even that was starting to annoy you.

So now you were sat at the table in the conference room, a pen between your teeth as your eyes frantically search over the evidence you have piled in front of you, desperate for the answers to this case to fly off the page and hit you smack dab in the forehead so you could just go home and have a fight with a pillow or something, anything to destress.

You heard the footsteps coming from the doorway, but you refused to turn around. If it was Hotch, you swear to god you might actually lose your job with what you were thinking of doing if he was short with you one more time. If it was Morgan ready to hand you a first-class ticket to visit the slightly wrinkly and very smelly coroner again, you might actually flip the table.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer greeted you warmly, sitting on the table to your right as your eyes slowly lifted to meet his. No, not Spencer. Hold it together, Y/N, hold in your rage, he’s done nothing wrong. “Oh, I haven’t seen you with your hair tied back in a while. I like it.”

Such a sweet statement, and yet it broke you. You could see in his face the moment your eyes lit aflame with anger, and you couldn’t miss the harsh swallow he took to brace himself for your fury.

“Well, Dr Reid, let me teach you a lesson, shall I? 3 reasons. One, it is way more practical for kicking someone’s ass, and right now, I would love nothing more than catching the sleazy son-of-a-bitch who is deriving pleasure from this,” You gesture violently to the crime scene photos splayed out in front of you before continuing to spit your venom. “And beating the living shit out of him until he’s crying out for his mommy. Two, do you know how many officers have tried to flirt up a storm with me in the past week? Way too many to count on one fucking hand! One even went so far as to try stroking my hair like a goddamn cat, and so to avoid that situation, I have put it in a ponytail, because if anything of that nature happens again, I won’t hesitate to break someone’s arm. And three, I usually have it down because most men think you’re dumber when you play with your hair, or I can play seductive to get what I want without a warrant fifty percent of the time. But seeing as we have absolutely nobody on the suspect list right now, and the sheer fury I possess at this moment, I don’t foresee the possibility of me needing to be either of those things, do you?”

Your lungs were heaving once you were done, and poor Spencer looked like you just told him you were a Russian spy sent to kill him. Your eyes were locked onto each other’s, and when you came back to reality from your rant, you recognised the softness and love in his that you were grateful for every day. Granted, they were a little masked by fear right now, but you’d admired him often enough to be able to spot even the faintest hint of your favourite emotions.

You let out a deep sigh, signalling you were back to your normal self as much as you could be right then, before dropping your head into your hands to rub your eyes with the heel of your palms.

It was then you felt the unmistakeable warmth of Spencer’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you gathered yourself together, bringing tears to your eyes as you opened them once more to face him.

“Oh, Spencer,” You whispered, grabbing his hands tightly with yours, lifting them to your lips and pressing sweet kisses to his knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it’s really not. I never should have raised my voice at you, especially when it’s not your fault at all that I’m frustrated.”

“Y/N, I understand.” He smiled at you, a small and sympathetic one, but it calmed you nonetheless as he stood, pulling you up from the chair to wrap his arms tightly around you. You gripped onto him like he might run away if you didn’t, breathing in the warm scent that is so unmistakeably Spencer. Your vision was now cloudy with the tears that so desperately wanted to spill, but you were adamant you wouldn’t give the local cops the satisfaction of seeing you with wet cheeks. Luckily, Spencer knows you better than anyone.

“There’s a park a few minutes’ walk from here with a small duck pond. Would you like some fresh air?”

You nodded frantically against his neck as you finally let go, allowing him to lead you out of the precinct, hand in hand, his thumb running softly over yours as you walked.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, leaning in closer to him as you carried on down the path.

“Nonsense,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We deserve each other. Just remind me not to get on your bad side; I like having both of my arms functional.”

Bed Head -

A blaring alarm at 6am has to be up there with one of the most annoying things on the planet, and I work with Derek Morgan. You let out a groan, your arm floundering around to find the source of the wretched noise. Groaning in defeat of not being able to do it with your eyes closed, you cracked one open, locating your phone, and finding sweet relief in the snooze button. A very overexaggerated yawn left your lips as you attempted to stretch your arms over your head in an effort to wake up, only to find one immobilised in the grasp of your boyfriend.

You took advantage the rare opportunity of waking up before Mr Alarm Clock himself (also known as Dr Spencer Reid) by allowing yourself a few minutes to admire his form in the golden sliver of sunlight escaping the outside world through the gap in the curtains. It was only when your alarm went off again after the five-minute snooze timer did you try to wake him up.

“Spence, baby, time to wake up.” You whisper, attempting to gently coax him from his slumber. When that didn’t work, you laced your fingers through his mousy-brown curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just how he likes. Only then did you receive a response in the form of a muffled groan into his pillow.

“C’mon, my love. We need to get ready for work.” You spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

You chuckled lightly, wrapping your arms around his torso as your legs entwined. “Okay, my sleepy darling. But only five.”

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He mumbled, nestling his face into your hair as he pulls you closer than you thought possible.

Safe to say you took breakfast to go, just so you could bask in each other’s embraced for a little longer than five minutes.

Post-Sex Hair -

You climbed from his lap gently, unsure if your legs could hold yourself up as you panted heavily. Practically throwing yourself down beside Spencer on the bed, he took the opportunity to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his as you laid your head on his chest. You were both still a little dreamlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and when Spencer began to press kiss after kiss into your hair, you didn’t hesitate to enjoy them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, punctuating his statement with a final kiss for good measure.

You looked up from your position, shifting slightly so you were face to face, and scrunched up your nose. “Really? Even with sweaty sex hair?”

He chuckled, and you followed with a giggle of your own as he leant over to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Especially with sweaty sex hair.” He whispered with a joking edge to his voice, his lips brushing with yours.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the team wouldn’t love my sweaty sex hair, so I better hop in the shower.” You smiled, kissing him quickly once more before climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, a sway to your hips.

As you reached the door, you turned to shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the blissed-out boy behind you. “Oh, are you not joining me?”

You swear you’d never seen the boy move as fast as when he clambered from the bed and chased you into the bathroom.

Straightened -

There was something about going undercover that equally excited you and creeped you out. Especially tonight, when you were having to go under in a club to catch a guy who was killing adulterous wives. You were the closest person in the team to his type, so it was a no-brainer to choose you, really. Didn’t mean you were happy with it, and it seemed that Spencer wasn’t either, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Well, you were going to do it no matter what, so why not get yourself dressed up and try to bring some joy back to a less than ideal situation? That is why you were stood in the locker room of a precinct on the west coast in a red crushed velvet minidress with black heels, a fake wedding ring and straightened hair, and you couldn’t lie, you were totally feeling yourself.

“Woah, Y/N, you look…amazing.” You heard Spencer say as he entered the room.

You turned your head and smiled at him, feeling a little flustered as his eyes trailed over your form. You attempted to push your dress further down your thighs as he walked to you, his hands encircling your waist from behind and his head perched on your shoulder.

“It’s not too much is it?” You mumbled, looking down at yourself to do a final once over.

You felt his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to look him in the eyes through the mirror, ones filled with love and a hint of desire that set your skin aflame. He brushed your hair aside from your neck to trail kisses down the side of your throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from your lips.

“No, Y/N, you look badass.”

You giggled at the word that seemed so foreign coming from Spencer, but that was soon muffled when he spun you around by his hands on your hips and his lips hungrily met yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, his tongue coming to swipe at your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You granted it, and soon you felt your back collide with the cool metal of the lockers. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt as you explored his mouth with your tongue, relishing in the taste of him. You laced a hand up into his hair as you felt a hand that he had at your waist moving to your ass, gripping it roughly, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Reid? Y/L/N? You two lovebirds ready?” You heard Morgan mock from the doorway and you both immediately jumped apart like some sort of invisible wall had shot up between you.

Looking around to see that Morgan wasn’t in your eyeline, given that the lockers luckily blocked you two from his view. But not from earshot, seeing as you could quite clearly hear his hearty chuckles as his footsteps got quieter and quieter.

You looked up at Spencer, his hair dishevelled and his tie askew, a look of both embarrassment and amusement at being caught making out like two horny teenagers adorned his face. A grin broke out on your lips, which he mirrored, and soon you were both laughing hysterically as you sorted yourselves out in the tiny little mirror on the wall, attempting to make it look like you weren’t a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off, before re-joining the team in the conference room.

Messy Bun -

Ugh, cold and flu season. You swear you never make it through it unscathed. And it seems as if your battle was commencing today. You woke up feeling dreadful; runny nose, scratchy throat, constant sneezing, and red-rimmed eyes. Attractive.

There was no question in having to call in sick, so after throwing your hair up in the messiest of messy buns and locating the snuggest blanket, you dialled the number. You could practically hear the wince from Hotch when you started having a sneezing fit down the phone. Now you weren’t sure if you could look the man in the eye when you went back.

Once that torture was over and done with, you were feeling sorry for yourself and decided on a warm cup of tea and a dose of shitty daytime television. You were halfway through some over-enthusiastic talk show when you heard a knock at your door. Refusing to leave the blanket behind that you’d burrito’d yourself in, you shuffled over to the door.

You didn’t expect a very sympathetic looking Spencer on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a welcomed sight.

“Hey.” You croaked out.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You gave him a look that said it all, and he chuckled lightly. He lifted the bag he had in his hand. “I brought the best cure I could think of; chicken noodle soup.”

“I don’t want to get you sick, Spencer.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side but holding onto your selfless and rational thoughts by a mere thread.

You smiled at that, stepping aside to let him in. He passed you and went and got comfortable on your couch, grabbing a fork on the way. When you met him in the living room, he was ready and waiting for you with his arms open for you to snuggle into.

“Don’t worry about me. Now come on, your soup is getting cold.” He smiled, making grabby hands at you.

You made your way over, sinking into his embrace as he passed you the container and your fork. After a few mouthfuls and several minutes of listening to his steady breaths and thumps of his heart, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you.” You mumbled once you were finished and had placed your empty container on the coffee table in front of you, nuzzling further into Spencer’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Didn’t have to tell you twice.

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #mgg #mgg fluff

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean celebrate Tessa’s birthday with a big surprise before making a drastic change to their relationship...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Dean, jumping up and down in the driveway as he read over the letter in his hands.

“Dr. Dean that’s a bad word,” said Emily, the five year old three houses down. Dean slapped a hand over his face as she rode past on her bike, her father laughing to himself.

“Hope it’s good news, Dean,” said Chris.

“Very. Sorry about that,” said Dean, Chris waving him off as Dean jogged back inside. He read over the letter again and looked through the packet. “Alright. As long as you keep a B average or above you’re golden kiddo. You get straight A’s anyways so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean smiled and gathered up all of the documents, getting them together with Tessa’s birthday present. Y/N had tried to tell him that giving away his old iPhone was too much but all it did was sit in a drawer now when it worked perfectly fine. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be thinking about the phone at all once she found out about the grant.

He looked back at the bag on the table and frowned. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, like he was trying to save her sister or their family or something like that. He could have given them the application and had them fill it out. They would have probably gotten it still. Dean knew his letter he’d included didn’t hurt but he didn’t want to be that guy. He was already a doctor, already helped Y/N with a job, already paid for dates and things. It was no issue for him at all and he knew she didn’t care about the money but he didn’t want to rub it in her face that he could help more than she could.

Dean grabbed his phone and called Cas, Sam stuck in some network client thing all night he’d told him. It rang a few times before it picked up, the echo in the background telling him he was on speaker.

“Deano!” said Benny. “Gonna make it over tonight after all?”

“Hey guys,” said Dean, sitting down on his couch. “You got the crew together?”

“Nah, just us and the girls. They’re still out shopping. What’s up?” asked Cas.

“You know Y/N?” asked Dean.

“The girl you’re clearly in love with? Yes we know her,” laughed Benny. Dean was quiet and heard them shift on the other end.

“Everything okay?” asked Cas.

“I think I fucked it up. I think I’m going too far too fast.”

“What do you mean?” asked Benny.

“Tessa, her little sister, she’s in high school and I applied for a grant on her behalf for her college and she got it,” said Dean.

“That’s a problem how?” asked Cas.

“I don’t want it to come off as me trying to save them or anything. I’m nervous she’s gonna get mad at me,” said Dean. His friends were quiet and knew a teasing comment wouldn’t come. “Guys.”

“Tell her you applied on a long shot and a grant is what helped you with school. You’re not saving the day, just sharing a benefit you got,” said Benny. “Shit I wish I’d had someone do that for me.”

“What’s going on Dean? You’re normally the last person to freak over shit,” said Cas. Dean sat back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Talk to us bud,” said Benny.

“I like this girl and it’s been years and years since I had a girlfriend. You guys know I’m not good for more than a fuck,” said Dean.

“Lisa was a super bitch and you know that’s not true,” said Benny.

“I am in my thirties and I’ve never had a real relationship. I don’t even know how. I’m gonna fuck this up so bad. I know it.”

“Contrary to how often I call you a dick, you are one of the best people I’ve ever met,” said Cas.

“I agree and you know all our friends and especially Sammy would say the same thing. Brother you gotta relax. This girl from what you’ve said and everybody else says, well we ain’t never seen you so happy so stop freaking, go get ready for your date tonight and put some faith in this girl that she’s not gonna hurt you back,” said Benny.

“I didn’t say-”

“Dean, we’ve known you forever. We know when you’re scared. I know most people in your life end up hurting you but take it from us, not everyone will. I got a good vibe from her,” said Cas.

“Me too,” said Dean quietly.

“You doing okay?” asked Benny. “In general you know.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I’m great now. The past few weeks have been awesome. I think maybe that’s why I keep freaking out over this girl. It’s like, fucking finally, I understand what a good relationship can be.”

“You been to Ketch lately?” asked Cas.

“No, not as a patient. I’m okay.”

“Well still go for a tag up every once in a while for us,” said Benny.

“I know. Never would have gone without you assholes getting on my back in the first place.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Cas, Benny chuckling. “So where you guys going tonight?”

“Monico’s.”

“Fancy,” they both said and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Goodbye assholes,” said Dean, hearing them laugh before he hung up. He sat up and took a deep breath. “Alright. Shower. Shave and fingers crossed tonight goes well.”

Reader’s POV

“Okay, presents before or after dinner?” you asked as you carried in a bag to Tessa’s room.

“Before, obviously,” she said.

“Alright, well I know you wanted something really badly this year,” you said. “Why don’t you open the green one first?”

“This feels like an iPhone box…” she said with a big smile. She tore off the paper and grinned. “Awesome! What one is it?”

“It’s a ten. It’s used but in really good condition. I got you a case and extra charger too,” you said. “We can swing to the store and activate it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Y/N, really,” she said. She grabbed the card next and her eyes went wide when she saw the cash inside. “Y/N.”

“It’s your money you gave me. It’s yours. Buy whatever you want, okay?” you said. She nodded and unwrapped a few more small things, a book she’d been talking about, some make up you knew she’d use, a new pair of her nike running shorts that’d been on sale thankfully. You smirked when she picked up the last two presents in the bag. “Alright. I hope these are...suitable for you.”

She tore off the wrapping on one and started to laugh.

“It’s hot pink,” she giggled. “Why is it hot pink?”

“Cause vibrators come in a variety of colors,” you said with a laugh. “I will let you read through the charging instructions on your own and same for the other box. There is toy cleaner because yes you need to wash these things properly and I got some water based lube. Go with water based. It dries up faster but it works better to me. Oh and wash everything like five times before it goes anywhere near anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you actually bought me this stuff.”

“Can’t get pregnant off a toy,” you said.

“Definitely can’t do that,” said Dean, Tessa wide eyed as he popped his head into the doorway. She shoved the boxes back into the bag and he laughed. “I’m a doctor. Sex doesn’t bother me and I think your sister has a point.”

“Oh my God, I forgot he was here,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to,” he said. He stepped inside and pulled out a box from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. She undid the bow and paper, smiling as she opened the box. There was an envelope inside but she picked up the headphones and shook her head. “Dean I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I already know the iPhone must have been yours.”

“You are smarter than you look,” he said. “But I can’t accept your refusal of my present. I have new ones and those never get used and I’m bigger than you so you’re gonna lose this argument one way or the other.”

“I’d listen to him, Tessa. He gets his way when he wants it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Thank you. People haven’t been nice to us the past couple years,” she said. You glanced down to the floor, Dean leaving his arm wrapped around your waist.

“People weren’t all that nice to me either for a long time,” he said with a nod. “Someday when you’re able, you help somebody else out, understand?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“Open the envelope. This one’s a present to you both,” he said. You cocked your head as she tore it open, reading for a long time before she pulled out a paper and handed it to you.

“Dean,” you said, sitting down on her bed after you’d read it a few times. “Dean this…”

“It’s a grant. It’s very similar to a scholarship. I’m an alumni of Elmdale and the medical school there. Tessa you qualify and so I applied on your behalf a few weeks ago and you were accepted. The grant will cover half of four years of tuition,” he said.

“What does that mean?” asked Tessa.

“It means we will have to pay very little with financial aid,” you said. She was beaming and you shook your head. “You applied weeks ago?”

“After I met you two. This house seemed familiar to me for some reason until I remembered. Y/N I told you someone helped me when I was eighteen?”

“Yeah?”

“I think his picture is hanging in the hall,” he said.

“Our dad?” asked Tessa.

“He got me a job and helped me pay for part of my school. I came here once when I needed his help. Your father was a very good man and it’s clear his daughters are the same. Neither one of you deserves to go through all the pain I did. I don’t want you to. It was no trouble at all to do, I swear.”

“Tessa, I work at Dean’s office as a lab tech,” you said. She turned her head and you saw Dean nod. “I lost my job before. We were scraping by. Barely. We’re okay now but without this grant...it would have wiped out our inheritance. That was for weddings and down payments for houses. We can keep it now...we can keep the house now.”

“You hate this house though,” she said. “I hate this house.”

“Tessa-”

“We can downsize,” she said. “Y/N, every night you stare down at their bedroom door. It’s like we live with ghosts or something. It doesn’t have to be so tight. Do we really need a five bedroom house?”

“It’s not as tight anymore. We’ll talk about it. Let’s go celebrate all the good news,” you said. “I’ve been dying for a Monico’s steak.”

“She seemed pretty happy tonight,” said Dean as you sat on the front porch a few hours later. You hummed and rocked in your seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did I overstep?”

“No. You were the boy in the mailroom, weren’t you. Dad used to talk about you sometimes. Mostly when I didn’t want to do something. He told me some people my age have it so much harder.”

“True. But you can’t compare one person’s struggles to another’s. It’s not fair to either one.”

“Would you sell this house if you were me?” you asked.

“I like that you live close by. I’d miss that. But it’s a lotta house for the two of you and it sounds like a change might be a good thing. You could downsize to somewhere else in the neighborhood and probably bank a good chunk of money for later on.”

“We could.” Dean was quiet, gears turning in his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“My house is a five bedroom too.”

“Yours is also newer,” you said. “And bigger.”

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line but...you guys...could stay there if you decided to sell this place. Temporarily. Or not temporarily,” he said. You stared up at him and he looked away. “Like I said, I’m sorry, I know it’s...I should go.”

“Hey. I’m not afraid of you.” His head turned back towards you and he swallowed thickly. “Tell me another secret and I’ll you one.”

“I think I I’m falling in love with you and I’m afraid I’m going too fast and that you think I’m creepy or weird deep down and I’m up to something when all I really see is me and my brother in you and your sisters places and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts and I know you protect her from stuff she doesn’t even know about. I’m sorry for saying that about the house just now. I’d still like to see you though if that’s okay.”

“I think this is fast too but I also think that part of me fell for you the day you carried her home. You don’t want anything from us. Just to help and it’s not because you pity us or anything like that. If I’ve learned anything yet in life it’s that you don’t know when it’s gonna stop and there’s no use in wasting time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You willing to put up with a teenager, a service dog and someone who has not had a moment to themselves in two years?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” he smiled. You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t like this house anymore. If she doesn’t want it, I don’t want it. Maybe we can do some test runs, stay over for a weekend or two, see if we want to make it a not temporary thing.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“I’m home,” you said on the way back from the store. You’d been staying at Dean’s for two weeks now after a nice couple closed on your old house. So far it’d been great and you were perfectly happy to stay there with him and Tessa for the foreseeable future. “I picked up some-”

“He is not my dad. I am eighteen,” said Tessa as she stormed over to the foyer. You glanced back to where Dean was over in the kitchen and sighed. “I want to go to Paulie’s tonight.”

“Who is Paulie?” you asked as you kicked off your boots.

“A friend,” she said.

“You’ve literally never mentioned him before,” you said, carrying some groceries through the family room and to the kitchen.

“That’s what I said,” said Dean as he peeled a potato at the island.

“I thought I said you’re not my dad so you can shut the fuck up.”

“Hey!” you shouted, Tessa freezing up. “Apologize to Dean.”

“He-”

“We are stable for the first time ever because of him. I trust Dean to make decisions for you when I’m not home. If he said no, then the answer is no. Go to your room,” you said. She grumbled and pounded her feet upstairs. You washed up and gripped the countertop. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy,” he said as he picked up another potato. “Paulie what’s his face doesn’t sound like he wants anything other than in her pants so she can swear all she likes at me.”

“What’d she say exactly?”

“She wants to go over to Paulie’s tonight to hang out with some friends but I overheard her and Hailey talking earlier this week about a party and I don’t need a medical degree to put it together.”

“If she sneaks out I’ll kill her,” you said. You glanced down to Toast’s dog bowl and paused. “Dean what would happen if she drank on her medication.”

“She can’t drink alcohol on that stuff,” he said.

“What would happen if she did.”

“She could have a seizure,” he said.

“Tessa!” you shouted. You jogged upstairs and found her bedroom empty. “Tessa!”

The house was quiet and you put your hands on your head.

“Toast!” you shouted, the dog trotting out from Dean’s bedroom. You immediately ran inside, Dean already upstairs and you saw her sitting out on the balcony in a chair, her face in her knees.

“Can I…” said Dean and you nodded. You followed him outside, Dean walking over and squatting by her seat. “Tessa, what are you doing out here?”

“I wish I was normal, didn’t have a fucked up head.”

“I got one too,” he said.

“Do you have to take medicine for seizures? No?” she said.

“No but my dad used to beat me up,” he said. She turned and he nodded. “He would try to beat up my little brother too sometimes but I would take the hits when I could. Tessa, you can’t drink when you’re on your medicine. You just can’t.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out and leave Toast behind either. It’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Y/N and I get scared too is all.”

“You just pretend to like me cause you fuck my sister.”

“For the record, I don’t fuck your sister. Relationships are complicated. You might not realize this but I care about you for you. If I didn’t I would not want you in my house, in our house, and I wouldn’t get scared about you going to parties with guys that just want to use you for sex. I give a shit about you Tessa whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t care,” she scoffed. “You feel sorry for us. Nobody on earth would ask two strangers to move in unless you-”

“Tessa you can think whatever you want about me. I’m not your father and I’ll never try to be him. But I sure as shit know how to be an older brother. So be pissed off and be rude and whatever else you want to. I’ve done this before with my own brother. You don’t scare me. The only thing that does is you getting taken advantage of or you getting hurt and Toast isn’t there to help. Someday you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours what the truth is but until then, I’ll be the asshole who doesn’t let you go to parties you’ll get hurt at.”

“You pity us.”

“I’m jealous of you.” She stared at him and you swallowed in the doorway. “Your parents loved you. Mine didn’t. You want to talk about being fucked up? I’m here anytime.”

She nodded and he sat up on the bench with her. You went inside and finished preparing the potatoes, mashing them up and saving them for later. It was nearly ten by the time you heard the stairs creak and Dean walked down them.

“Y/N,” said Tessa. You got up from the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, Tessa glancing down. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted today and treated Dean lately. I was…”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back.

“I was scared when we moved in here a few weeks ago. I don’t want to lose you too and Dean takes up time that it used to be just us and I know the accident wasn’t my fault but I feel guilty still sometimes and I know your life is different because of it too and I want you guys to be happy, I do. I just get scared you’ll forget about me. I don’t wanna be alone. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t ever have to be alone, Tessa,” you said. She nodded and looked up at Dean.

“I know. I was silly. But I’m better now,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said.

“I know,” she said.

“Why don’t you head to bed, Tess. Tomorrow I can come to your session with you like we talked about,” said Dean. She nodded and walked upstairs, Toast trotting into her room. You walked upstairs and into your bedroom with Dean, shutting the door after yourselves. “I should have...change is difficult on kids with PTSD. I should have realized that’s why she’s been so snippy. I thought it was just hormones.”

“Probably both,” you said, climbing onto the bed. He lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “You care for her.”

“You two are a package deal, sweetheart,” he said with a light chuckle. “Can’t love one without loving the other.”

“Like you and Sam,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

“Me too.”

“Is Tessa okay? You guys talked a really long time.”

“She was afraid I would replace her, push her out. Granted I do like spending alone time with you and everything but she needs you and I’m not here to take you away from her. I think she understands that now.”

“Dean why haven’t we had sex?” you asked. He sat up and you shrugged. “We’ve dated nearly three months and you don’t even try to cop a feel. For how fast certain things are between us, that one feels a little slow. I just want to understand. I don’t...I’m not saying it’s a problem I just want to know.”

“You asked me on our first date, or you made a comment, that I don’t seem like the shy around women type.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t use to be. A smidge, especially if they were the one that seemed to be controlling the situation but it was always good. I had some girlfriends, had some hookups. More than my fair share of hookups. The girlfriends…”

“The bitch one?” you said, getting a chuckle out of him.

“I stopped thinking I was relationship material for a while. So I did hookups for a long time and that was good. Until about two years ago. I haven’t had sex since.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I just...I asked her to stop and she didn’t.”

“Dean she hurt you.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said. He put his back to you and you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know we sleep in the same bed and…”

“And I don’t need to have sex with you. Would I like it? Sure. But my sister and I aren’t the only ones in this house that need to be taken care of. You’ve done a really good job of that lately and I’d like to start pulling my weight in that department. When you’re ready for sex, you tell me, otherwise, I will just cuddle you real hard until then, okay?”

“Alright,” he said quietly. He reached behind himself and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his neck, Dean taking slow breaths. “I don’t really know how to let someone take care of me though.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you said. “Like maybe with you being little spoon tonight.”

“Alright. I can try, sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean #winchester #dean spn

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Text

Enough

My take?

Bakugou asks you out - it honestly comes out of nowhere.

Why would a pro hero be interested in just another paper-pusher working in his agency building?

(NSFW, rough fucking, slight predatorXprey)

You were flattered to say the least, but also intimated. He had stormed up to you at your desk (the man had never spoke to you before, so you didn’t know what to think) and slammed his hands down, rattling your pens in their cup, making you jump.

“You’re gonna go out with me”

“W-what?”

“Did I fucking stutter? Go out with me.”

Had you missed something? You had never talked to the man in your life, had only seen him as he came and went, your work station one of the ones on the same floor as his “office”.

There had been no indication that he was interested in you - there had been no indication that Bakugou even knew you existed.

But you didn’t want to insult the hero, you knew he was proud and brash and maybe not the best at feelings, so maybe he’d been wanting to ask you/ talk to you for a while.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable saying yes.

Maybe it was the way he stood over your desk, practically leaning into your space, leering down at you with those bright red eyes. You didn’t like his tone, the way his words were a statement instead of a polite request. Almost as if he was ordering you to go out with him... or else.

So you brushed him off, you need some time to think about it, have to see if you have any free time (”I’ll give you a whole damn month off, lets fucking go do something or some shit.”) and you had to quickly come up with poor excuses, ones that both of you could tell were weak, fake.

Bakugou had just set his jaw, before clicking his tongue and storming back into his office, leaving you alone at your desk.

Yeah, that had been a weird day.

The next week at work had been weird too, Bakugou glaring at you whenever you unintentionally looked in his general direction. He caught you in the break room, leaning in the doorway with a cup of coffee clutched in his calloused hands.

The man just smirked, stood still, made you squeeze your way past him even though he was perfectly capable of moving.

He had bumped into you in the elevator, mouth set in a firm line that somehow seemed pleased when the elevator filled up with other people, allowing him to crowd into your space, literally breathe down you neck.

The pro hero managed to “accidentally” trip and spill his cup of water all over you, making your shirt stick to your skin, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He had scoffed at you, before you had hurried past him and rushed to the bathroom to try and pat your shirt dry with paper towels.

By the third week of Bakugou being an absolute shithead, you had made your decision - not that you were going to let him know that. He hadn’t asked you about going out any further, and by now you knew, you didn’t want to get involved with that.

Bakugou was too volatile, too unstable and angry and insecure. You wouldn’t be able to handle even trying to connect with him.

So you did your best to avoid him

----

And oh, did Bakugou notice.

He didn’t like being ignored, being fucking teased. Because that’s obviously what you were doing, playing hard to get. Well, he was good at this game, always got his prize, everything that he wanted in the end.

It was clear that you wanted his attention, any attention for that matter. You wore those tight little shirts, buttons almost straining at the seams, the top button undone so Bakugou could see down you shirt every time you bent over in his line of sight.

Those slutty skirts, short and form-fitting, the slit up the back giving teasing glimpses of your legs as you walked. Every skirt you owned made your ass look great, Bakugou enjoyed admireing the view everyday whenever you were turned away from his office, bending over at a co-workers desk to look at some documents or some shit like that.

Your silky stockings that made your legs look so long and soft and smooth, the high heels that clicked with each step. Even though each and every outfit was modest and work-appropriate, your body just wouldn’t quit. You looked hot, Bakugou wasn’t afraid to admit that it was the reason why he had noticed you.

But there were plenty of beautiful women employed by his agency.

You were special.

There was something about you, the spark in your eye, the straightness of your spine. You were bold, weren’t willing to roll over and show your stomach. Bakugou knew you were stubborn and confident and stupidly self-assured.

It intrigued him. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him, respected his space - that’s why you were allowed on the same floor as his office, one of the few desks that was in view of it.

He didn’t care about your existence at first. No, you were just another shitty extra. But damn, he had sure taken notice when you put an idiot in their place.

A fucking mailman had tried to “hand deliver” a package - meaning he was going to try and get up in Bakugou’s face, beg for an autograph, fanboy all over his office and be stupid and annoying and clingy. Bakugou was left wondering why the receptionist had even let him up, in which case damn, he should probably fire her or something.

Bakugou hadn’t even noticed the man until a shout drew his attention away from the boring paperwork on his desk. There you were, hands on your hips, staring down an angry mailman who was flailing his arms like a goddamn octopus. The man was mad, shouting at you about delivering the package, before you promptly snatched it out of his hands.

You set it to the side on your desk, before crossing your arms and turning back to the shocked mailman. You informed him that he could either get out now, or you’d drag him out by his ear, since he wanted to act like a pissy little baby.

And damn, did that make Bakugou pay attention to you.

Unfortunately, after the mailman had left with his tail between his legs, you hadn’t even attempted to take the package to Bakugou. You had asked one of your coworkers to do it, Bakugou had watched you gesture to the box on your desk while talking to one of the other employees. Truthfully, Bakugou was a little disappointed you weren’t going to come into his office.

But from that day on, he was hooked on you.

And now, with you trying to play coy, being a little bitch that couldn’t own up about their feelings? Bakugou was furious with you. He had been man enough to admit his feelings, to ask you out on a date, show his interest. And what had you done? Brushed him off, gave little fucking stupid excuses and tried to smile your way out of things.

Bakugou could see what you were playing at.

Little tease.

He could tease right back.

After weeks of your stupid flirty game, Bakugou was done. It was clear you weren’t interested in him, kept avoiding him and turning the other way whenever you spotted him. Tried to take the stairs in order to not run into him on the elevator, conveniently got sick whenever Bakugou wanted to do trust building exercises with the team working on his floor.

He didn’t need your fucking approval, he could take what he wanted. You thought you were better than him? You were nothing but dirt.

Granted, you were pretty dirt - dirt that made his heart clench tight and his dick twitch whenever he thought of you in your little pencil skirts.

But still dirt.

And for some reason, even though you had subtly turned him down, you still decided to be the worlds biggest tease. Bakugou was going to snap, he was frustrated and horny and angry that you didn’t even have the balls to tell him in person that you didn’t want to go out with him.

All day you’d been acting extra flirty, laughing with your coworker over some stupid shit, the sound making Bakugou’s do little flips. He saw you accidentally drop a stack of papers - bend over to pick them up, perfect little ass sticking out just for him. You had ate your lunch at your desk, coincidentally Bakugou also randomly decided to do the same, watching you lick yogurt off your spoon. God, the way your tongue swirled around the spoon, licking up the creamy white substance had Bakugou popping a stiffy, had him chewing through his vegetables with a little more force than normal.

After lunch you had given a quick stretch of your arms, letting your back curve just right and Bakugou wanted to swear as you let out a breathy little moan as you stretched out a sore muscle, no one else around to hear it but him.

Fuck.

Getting through the rest of the work day was hell, Bakugou remaining seated at his desk so he wouldn’t have to be bothered with trying to hide his boner when he stood up. He had to watch you welcome your coworkers back from lunch, smile at one of them, let out a stupid little giggle at some stupid shit one of the fucking stupid little employees said.

He tried to put you out of his mind, focus back on his work. He was managing to do it pretty well actually, until his bladder got the best of him and he had to make a trip to the bathroom. Luckily by then his boner had gone down.

There weren’t many people on this floor, no need for separate bathrooms - just one single room, unisex.

Bakugou knocked on the door waiting barely a second before pulling it open, almost blowing up the damn thing as someone practically fell onto him.

“Sorry! I was just opening the door and I didn’t hear you knock…” You trailed off as you realized who was attached to the arms steadying you.

Bakugou glared at you, not listening. He was focused more on the fact that your breasts were squished up against his chest, could feel your rapid heartbeat, was so close that he could see the bright little specks of color in your eyes as you gazed up at him with a shocked expression.

With a flurry of movement, you pushed yourself away from your boss, stumbled backwards, and promptly fell flat on your ass.

Now normally, Bakugou would burst out laughing, or maybe sneer and goad you about being clumsy and dumb, but not now.

Not when he had caught a glimpse up your skirt as you fell away from him.

HIs heart was beating so fast in his chest, Bakugou didn’t even register your quick “So sorry sir!” as you scrambled to your feet, hurriedly trying to straighten out your clothes. He could only stare at you, try to control his breathing, stop himself from jumping you right then and there.

Were you serious? Teasing him like this, leading him on, being an absolute slut with no remorse? He could barely believe you. As you dashed past him, cheeks flaming, Bakugou watched you go, a plan forming in his head.

He was going to teach you a lesson.

——

Bakugou waited until the end of the work day, 4:55, before exiting his office and stomping over to your desk.

“Hey, I need you in my office in twenty minutes.”

You looked up at him, confused, brow furrowed. “Bakugou-san, it’s almost five.”

Bakugou could care less, sneering. “And? I need you to stay later. You and I are gonna have a little discussion about your compliance with company rules about work attire.” You turned bright red, glancing quickly down at your outfit. “Of course, I can talk to you now if you’d like, out where all your coworkers can hear me tearing you a new one. …Your choice.”

Glaring up at him, you shook your head, spitting out “I’ll see you in twenty minutes Bakugou-san.”

He smirked as he turned away from you, swaggering back into his office. The man liked your little spark of defiance, the stubbornness hiding deep down.

The two of you would be having a lot of fun in a little while.

There wasn’t much more for him to do except wait, scroll through his phone, boots knocked up on his desk, leaning back in his office chair, hand behind his head. It was almost amusing, watching you say goodbye to your coworkers as they left, pretending to straighten your desk and finish up whatever you had been working on.

Ten minutes passed, Bakugou watching you squirm out of the corner of his eye as each subsequent “goodbye” of your peers left you more secluded with your boss.

Twenty minutes passed and you got up, straightening out your skirt before coming to knock loudly at his office door, pushing it open before he could acknowledge your presence. He raised an eyebrow at the subtle show of disrespect - maybe you knew what game he was playing, were trying to rile him up even more? Every little play of yours made his blood burn hotter.

You sat down in the chair across his desk, folding your hands in your lap, tucking your feet to the side - the very picture of professional employee. Bakugou kicked his boots off his desk, leaning forward over his desk.

He didn’t say anything, just watched you, narrowing his eyes as you lifted your chin, staring straight back at him.

“If you had me stay late just so you could try to intimidate me, that’s disappointing.“ Bakugou shrugged at you, and you almost snorted before continuing. “I’m curious as to why I’m here - my work attire is always appropriate, I complete my work on time, there’s no reason for complaints. What am I not doing for you? I’m a good employee.”

“Well, for starters-“ Bakugou stood up, rolling his neck, relishing in the subsequent pops from his bones releasing stress. “You could stop always being such a fuckin’ tease.”

The look of confusion on your face was priceless.

“It’d be nice if we could get this game over with too - much as I like playing, I wanna get to the part where my cock is down your throat.”

Mouth dropped open in shock, you quickly snapped it shut, a blush rising on your cheeks. “What game? This is inappropriate Bakugou-san-“

“What game?” Bakugou scoffed. “This little game of cat-and-mouse. Damn, didn’t take you as the dense type. Are you just trying to get me to punish you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you - little slut.”

Bakugou knew you weren’t playing a game with him, knew that your teasing was unintentional. But your obliviousness made him hard, and it was fun watching you rocket to your feet, indignant at his words. Before you could even get a response out, Bakugou spoke again, starting to walk around his desk towards you.

“Seriously, don’t act fucking stupid. If you want me to spank you so damn bad, all you gotta do is ask.”

He held out his hands, as if it was ridiculous that he had to tell you this. The blond could tell you were starting to get what was about to happen, eyes flickering down to the steadily-growing bulge in Bakugou’s pants. He could see the wheels turning in your head, the reasons he wanted to talk to you after everyone had left for the day, why he had been such a creep these past few weeks.

You bolted.

Heels clicking against the floor, only able to take short steps in your pencil skirt, brain blank with fear.

This was exactly how Bakugou had wanted this to go.

He wanted to chase you down, pin you despite how you struggle, and fuck you like an animal.

It was easy for him to cut you off from the elevator, leaping over desks and sliding in front of the doors before you could reach them. With a frustrated cry, you whirled on your heel, dashed towards the stairwell. Bakugou beat you there too, lunging at your form and pushing you to the side before you could open the door.

You stumbled, a heel coming off in the process. You shucked off the other shoe, taking a second to throw it at your boss. Bakugou laughed as he dodged the strong throw, your heel thudding uselessly against the wall behind him.

“Keep running bitch, you won’t get far - there’s no where to go.” He taunted.

You barely waited a moment before taking off across the office floor again, able to go faster without difficult shoes. You were heading back towards Bakugou’s office, the man realized. A smart move - the door locked, there was a phone you could use to call for help. Too bad you wouldn’t even reach the door.

The pro-hero grabbed your shoulder, pulled to whip you around to face him, making you stumble backwards. Without missing a beat, he slapped you across the face, palm burning. That wasn’t part of the plan, but Bakugou was worked up, running on adrenaline and emotions. Your head whipped to the side from the force of the slap, shocked.

Taking advantage of your sudden stillness, Bakugou grabbed your waist, lifted you up and into his arms. Your arms were flailing now, trying to punch and hit and scratch but even with your strength you were barely a nuisance to the pro-hero.

Here’s the part that he had trouble with - where was the best place to bend you over? Your desk? Should he shove you to the ground and rip off your skirt? Up against the wall where he could thrust up into you with wild abandon?

On his own desk?

That sounded good.

The man marched to his office, kicked open the door and then kicked it shut, wincing when you landed a solid kick to his knee that twisted the joint a bit too far to the left. “Goddamn, you still gotta lot of energy? That’s gonna change, I’m gonna fuck you until you pass the fuck out.”

You shrieked at his admission, doubling your efforts to try to get the man to loosen his hold on you. Bakugou dropped you onto his desk so you were sitting upright, wrenched your thighs apart, stood between them as he wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled your neck back as he pushed himself flush against your body.

“Mm, you feel real damn good. Like the way you struggle ’n shit - rubs just right over my dick. Feel how big I am? I’m gonna fuck you open with it.”

He could hear your choked whine, still too proud to beg. No, you were too stubborn and proud to beg and plead right away. Bakugou knew you would after he broke you down though, had you drooling over his desk.

The man used this moment to bite at your neck, relishing your gasp as he bite down roughly on the side, before quickly sucking over the red indentions of his teeth. Your hands were on him, one wrapped around the wrist of the hand wrapped in your hair, the other hand pushing against his chest as if that was going to make him go away or some shit.

His hand not wrapped in your hair fisted into your shirt, uncaring of the fabric as he flexed his arm, literally tore it off your upper half. Bakugou didn’t have the patience to take it off properly; He had waited too long for this, he was almost lightheaded with how much blood was rushing through his dick right now.

You were wearing a simple bra, nothing fancy - which was good, cause Bakugou ripped that off too, leaving you bare from the waist up. He was breathing heavily, panting as he quickly glanced at your body, taking in your soft skin, the rise and fall of your chest as you squirmed and whined and tried to escape from his grip. He liked the way you leaned your upper half away from him, following the hand pulling your hair so it wouldn’t pull your strands, subsequently pushing your lower half against your boss.

The blond groped roughly at your tits, giving quick little slaps to each one to watch them jiggle.

“You have been such a fucking tease, you know that? Wearing these tight outfits, little shirts that don’t even cover your tits. Every time you bend down I can see right down ‘em, see what the tops of your tits look like.” With a grunt, Bakugou bent his head, biting roughly at the top of your chest. “Makes me wanna fuck your tits, spit all over ‘em until they’re dripping, make you hold ‘em together around my dick. God, that’d be hot.”

He let go of your hair, hands falling to your waist to pull you closer so he could grind his bulge between your legs. With him not pulling your head back, you could focus on what he was doing, fight back.

Bakugou felt the burning pain on his cheek, then heard the sound, then registered that you had just slapped him. Fucking bitch. With a growl, Bakugou grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks painfully in-between his fingers, bringing your face forward so he could press his forehead against yours.

“Try that shit again, see what happens. I can assure you it won’t be fuckin’ pretty. I don’t mind, but you probably would.” He threatened. Your eyes shined, not wet with tears, still sparking with the fire of defiance.

Bakugou wanted that spark. Did he want to extinguish it? Fan it into a blazing fire? He didn’t know, he just wanted.

He glanced at your lips quickly, instinctively licking his own before making eye contact again. He couldn’t resist - didn’t want to. Bakugou surged forward, capturing your lips with his own, immediately biting and growling into your mouth, using the hand on your waist to move you against himself, humping into your clothed pussy.

When he pulled away, you were gasping, a string of saliva dripping down your chin.

The blond gripped at his throbbing cock through his pants, groaning. His hands moved to your skirt while pulling you to your feet, clumsily fiddling with the zipper in the back, trying to tug it down with one hand while the other kneaded into your chest.

With how you were positioned, it’s no surprise when he felt you bite down onto the side of his neck.

Bakugou laughed, tapering off into a moan as the pain bloomed in his neck.

Fuck, that felt good. He didn’t mind you biting at him, even if you were doing it to try and get away from him, and not out of lust.

Finally beating the zipper on your skirt, Bakugou stripped off the garment, whistling when you were revealed to him, no panties covering your sex. There you stood, nothing but smooth, sheer panty-hose covering your legs.

Bakugou flipped you around, shoved your face into his desk. He needed to be inside you now, he was done with games, done with the teasing, done with the dirty talk.

You were bent at the waist, ass up in the air. The blond quickly undid his pants, pulling down his boxers just so his dick could be pulled out. There was already precum beading at the tip, and Bakugou hissed as he gave his member a quick stroke. Letting go of his cock, the man took hold of your panty-hose, right at the crotch, smirking as you wiggled around, yelling profanities.

Damn, you really were perfect for him.

The panty-hose ripped easily, a large hole that exposed your cunt, the barest hint of wetness in between your folds. The blond didn’t want to wait to prep you, simply spat into his hand, gave his cock a quick stroke to cover it in his saliva, then lined himself up, cock nudging at your pussy.

“Relax your fucking hole bitch, this’ll hurt less.” He paused, surprising himself. Usually he wasn’t so considerate. “Or not, again, your choice.”

And with a snicker, the man began slowly pushing in, grunting as he was immediately met with tight resistance. But Bakugou wasn’t a quitter, and what he wanted, he got.

It took several minutes - minutes of you beginning to cry, beg for him to stop, shrieking at each new inch that sunk into you. Bakugou on the other hand had his head thrown back, calloused hands gripping your hips tightly to prevent you from moving anywhere but back and further onto his cock.

And then he was bottomed out, balls pressed against the top of your pussy, the pressure teasing your clit.

“Jesus Christ, You’re such a damn tease, but fuck, this pussy’s worth the work.”

You squirmed, before stilling as you gasped, able to physically /feel/ your boss’s cock twitching inside of you.

Bakugou didn’t waste any time getting to work.

“You have been riling me up every damn week. I fucking hate you and you’re slutty little body, making me all hot n shit- haven’t been able to focus on anything. Stupid bitch.”

He was thrusting into you, pushing you across the desk before pulling you back onto his cock.

“Bet this is what you wanted the whole time. It’s why you brushed me off, huh? Ignored me like that? You just wanted me to hold you down and take what I fuckin’ want.”

Deep down, Bakugou knew that wasn’t true. It was clear by the way you struggled, your pathetic cries, you whimpering “No, no I’ll rip your fucking throat out!” On each thrust. But even deeper down, Bakugou didn’t care whether you wanted this or not.

He did, and that’s what mattered.

His abs were clenching, pleasure shooting through his gut as you tightened around his cock, practically milking him. The suction was heavenly, made him groan, made him relax down against your body, sprawling to cover your back.

Like this, Bakugou let his arms rest over your shoulders, his hands grabbing the other side of the desk. Your hips were trapped against his, pinned to the desk. There was no where for you to go, you could barely breathe with the man’s weight on you.

But it let Bakugou hammer into you like a stallion.

You whined as his speed increased, aided by his grip on the desk, his hips working furiously, skin loudly slapping against skin.

With a growl, Bakugou buried his face in between your shoulder blades, mouthing roughly at the skin there, panting and growling and groaning like an animal as he fucked you.

Fuck, he was close, fuck.

With one last thrust, his balls tightened up, his dick jumping. He quickly pulled out, immediately reaching his hand down so he could fuck into his fist, and within seconds the man was cumming over your back.

Fuck, that felt fucking amazing.

When he was able to think clearly again, actually bring air into his lungs, Bakugou looked down at you, laying limp against his desk. There was a shine of wetness between your thighs, your pussy glistening and clenching around nothing.

“Aw, poor little tease wants to cum?”

He could tease too, giving your ass a quick, light slap. With an embarrassed shudder, you nodded imperceptibly. Bakugou chuckled, bringing his fingers down to the puffy little nub nestled at the top of your pussy. “If you want me to make you cum, you gotta say so. Don’t try and tell me you aren’t turned on’ you’re a shitty-ass liar.”

You trembled, before managing to spit out “Make me cum.” Bakugou shuddered, loving the hate filling your voice, the emotion. You sounded like you wanted to kill him, strangle him with your bare hands, and yet you were still begging for him to make you cum. How pathetic.

“Mm, too damn bad-“ Bakugou pulled his fingers away from your cunt, slapping your ass again, a little harsher this time. “Maybe next time I’ll let you cum. Teasing sluts don’t get to have shit, gotta earn it first.”

Maybe next time he’d fuck your throat.

#yandere thoughts #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #yanderebakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bnha #tw noncon #predator #prey

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wh6res · 4 years ago

Text

sedan | jaemin

—part 2

synopsis. it was only a matter of time until he snapped. he was right, you should've seen it coming.

warnings. noncon, swearing, yandere themes, there’s a knife lmao

note. yalls idk :( it keeps deleting paragraphs when i add a readmore wtf is this sorcery IM SO SORRY

[read part 1]

apparently, your captor had enough respect for your dignity not to take you in the backseat of his old sedan. saying something along the lines of how you had completely ruined the mood by how much you were crying underneath him. “it’s not even pretty crying!” jaemin had exclaimed, hauling you up to your feet and carrying you bridal style towards the house.

respect? pft. he has long passed the line of respecting your dignity—the moment he forced that drug into your system and shoved you inside his car, he was a goner.

you don’t bother thrashing against his arms, having thought better. with your wrists and knees duct-taped together, running seemed like a joke. instead, you stare longingly at the outside world over jaemin’s shoulder—it definitely isn’t the last time you’ll see it, but if you were here because of his fucked up possessiveness over you, then escaping will be a challenge.

three months of working alongside jaemin is enough for you to know how thorough he can be. he’s quite the perfectionist, and you remember admiring his keen attention to detail but now you only fear for the things he has in store for you to make sure you’ll never leave his side. it was due to this train of thought that you involuntarily start shaking against him. the automated lock in the front door beeps into place and now you were stuck here with him, once and for all.

before you are able to take a look around the house, scoping enemy territory, a hand comes up to cover your eyes. the moment your fingers wrap around his wrist to pry it away, he hisses, and you let go immediately.

“stay still or else,” you obliged, scared of what he can do now that he has you all to himself inside the house. “i know what you’re thinking. still so fucking predictable. you’d have to earn my trust until i let you roam around here.”

the loud clicks of your restraints locking together prove that he is a man of his word.

the basement he keeps you in is disgusting. the tiles beneath you are cold, a few leaking pipes in the corner, dust everywhere, and a tiny window across the room—you doubt your chains can reach that far. but what captured your eyes the most is the numerous pillows stuck onto the walls and ceiling. the colors of its casings are faded, none of them matching one another at all. it was as if everything was messily put together at the last minute and you almost feel a tiny bit of relief that maybe, jaemin isn’t as thorough as you thought he’d be.

“i soundproofed the walls and everything, isn’t that romantic?”

you don’t answer, too caught up thinking about how you’ll stay warm that you don’t notice the way his eyes trail over your shaking figure, knees tucked under your chin, pressing yourself firmly against the wall to appear smaller. to create as much distance from him as possible.

jaemin frowns in distaste, a low hum resounding in the back of his throat as he thought; no, this won’t do.

“are you cold?” he asks.

once again, he’s met with silence.

if there is one thing jaemin absolutely hates with a passion, it was being ignored. the feeling is so foreign to him. maybe it was because of how much he naturally expects to bear the spotlight, that when you refused to even slightly acknowledge him as anything, he was confused. fascinated but frustrated at the same time.

it is the same frustration he felt when you turned him down. the same frustration he felt when you fought against him. the same frustration he felt when you don’t stop crying underneath him. the same frustration he felt right at this very fucking moment.

“i don’t think ignoring me will do you good, sweetheart. i asked you a question, didn’t i? i’ll say it again, one last time,” the edge in his voice is unmistakable. “are you cold or not?”

at this point, jaemin feels stupid for even thinking about granting you the slightest bit of leniency by leaving you alone tonight. jaemin had been willing to put aside his desires and wants for you. but his patience can only stretch so far until it comes snapping back.

and boy, were you in for it.

he utters your name, low and threatening and you just knew what it meant. as the victim, it should’ve been in your best interest to keep your captor from losing his shit and hurting you… and yet, you remain silent. you don’t know what’s gotten into you. the words are right at the tip of your tongue but you don’t say anything. it was as if time had stopped and your brain had short-circuited, making you forget how to speak.

when he stood up from the stool and started stalking towards you, you knew it was too late.

“jaemin…” your voice shakes. “jaem—yes, yes—i feel—i feel cold—”

the sting on your right cheek is the only thing to register in your mind for a few good seconds until it all clicks into place. he just backhanded you.

“i never thought you’d be such a fucking bitch,” he hisses, pulling at your restraints. “you were so silent, i thought you went mute, baby. how can you treat me like that? it’s no way to treat your lover.”

his soft tone catches you off guard for a fraction of a second. it was the same way he spoke to you before… all of this. it was the same tone that had once lulled you into a sense of security when you were stuck in a new environment, scared, making mistakes left and right, but jaemin had proved he can be someone you can depend on.

and look at what that cost you.

jaemin’s eye twitched when he noticed the slightly dazed look on your face, eagerly slotting himself between your thighs before holding your legs down with his shins. his hands dart out, grabbing your jaw in one hand before placing the other snug around your neck. the man can feel the rush of his blood flowing through his veins, ears ringing as he admires how pretty you were underneath him—pretty and helpless.

with a sudden urge, he darts his head forward to take a long whiff of your hair, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. he barely even registers the tears wetting the hand holding your face. jaemin is too far gone in his head because finally, fucking finally, he has you right where he wants you and absolutely no one can steal you away from him anymore.

meanwhile, you try hard to push him off of you but the pressure he’s applying to your legs proves too much. the hand encased around your throat pulls away and your happiness was short-lived as jaemin reaches for something above your head. it glints against the sole fluorescent light in the basement—

you freeze at the sight of his pocket knife.

he laughs, sounding too sweet and lighthearted. “now, now. i won’t hurt you…”

you hold your breath when he drags the knife across your body. from your collarbones, down the valley of your breasts, and finally settling at the bottom of your shirt. “i won't hurt you if you don’t move around too much.”

the sound of fabric ripping against the sharp blade made you want to thrash as hard as you can but jaemin had purposely angled the knife so the tip dragged against the surface of your skin. bile rises up your throat when you notice the way he eyes every inch of your torso as its slowly revealed to him.

“see, i know you’re a good girl. i just have to force it out of you sometimes, huh?” he mocks, quickly hooking the knife under your bra so he needn’t struggle reaching for the hook in the back.

his reaction is immediate the moment he sees you bare before him. he doesn’t even grant you the chance of hiding when he’s managed to hold your wrists in one hand, the knife clattering loudly on the floor as he surged forward, lips latching onto one of your breasts as his free hand feels the other one up. you turn your head to the side, not wanting to see his ministrations. until one particularly hard nip makes you yelp, his teeth latching painfully against a nipple before glaring at you through his eyelashes.

“eyes on me.”

jaemin can’t have you turning away from him. it simply looks like another act of defiance, as if you were depriving him of the expressions of pleasure found in your face as he continues to lick and suckle at the skin of your breasts, purple and red blooming on your skin.

when jaemin retracts from you to pull his shirt over his head, you made the last feeble attempt of trying to escape him. you’re able to free one of your legs from underneath him and have successfully delivered a kick to the groin. jaemin folds in pain. you managed to flip onto your stomach, dragging your body away with just your arms. you’ve only managed a few inches, chains rattling aggressively, when you felt his nails dig into the back of your thighs.

“fuck,” he grunts. “you’re going to fucking pay for that, pretty thing.”

he turns you around with one hand, unfazed by the pitiful look of your tears and snot cascading down your face as he looms over you, his knife in one hand as he fists your hair.

you shook violently as you brace your hands against his bare chest. jaemin would’ve revelled at the feeling of you touching him if you hadn’t kicked him in the balls only seconds ago.

“jaemin, please… i don’t want any of this—”

“you’re so cute, begging like anything could get you out of this.”

you flinch, eyes shutting closing on instinct. you feel something sharp poking on your neck, and it only takes you a fraction of a minute to register that jaemin is now holding his knife against your throat. digging the blade enough for you to know it’s there but not hard enough to draw blood.

“look how much you’re shaking, baby,” he coos, the tightness in his pants becoming unbearable as he gives you a one over. “such a sheltered kid, aren’t you? no wonder you’re so fucking naive, always making mistakes. always making the wrong judgement. you’re used to depending on someone, right? well…”

jaemin slices the skin above your collarbone. you don’t scream, the fear of him slicing your throat all together lies heavy in the air.

“…it’s a good thing you met me, huh?”

fuck you.

“i’m here, baby. you can depend on me all you want,” the giddiness and the sudden spark in his eyes make you dread what he’ll do next—you hear the sounds of a belt unbuckling. “i’ll bathe you, i’ll feed you, dress you up, but…”

there are no tears left when you feel his fingers pulling your shorts down together with your underwear. no tears left when you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

“…you’ll have to give me something in return. that’s what good girls do, right?”

you screamed.

#yandere nct #yandere jaemin #yandere kpop #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw knife

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master-sass-blast · 3 years ago

Text

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #kitty pryde x illyana rasputin #aka my 'fuck you' to the russo bros #get ready for some big canon divergence #i am literally just doing whatever the fuck i want #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Text

deception

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

— Or in which, Hawks manipulates how you view your boyfriend, Shouto. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, manipulation, 18+, smut, first time sex, body worship, oral (receiving and giving), and praise

word count: 10,223

a/n: this was a commission! it was very fun to write this once I got around to it... life has just been... well you guys know because youre living it too. but I hope you enjoy this!!!!

edit: OMG AND SUPER BIG THANK YOU TO @marilla-eldriana FOR HELPING ME

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Being a student at Yuuei was a privilege.

Every year only two hundred and twenty students were admitted from a drawing pool reaching into the thousands. From there, only forty were admitted into the Hero Department, and finally, only three per year were granted the title of the Big Three.

“Watch out!”

You watched as Hawks crashed through the window to your left, and you looked down at him with a wide grin, what an idiot.

“I thought speed was better than power,” you mock watching as the villain the two of you had been hunting for some time now easily flicked the number two hero to the side.

“And that’s why I got you, isn’t it?” he chirped before rolling onto his feet.

You shrug, the smile on your face telling a different story while you both stared down the villain you had corned. There was no way you were going to let him go, no, this hunt was going to end now.

“I’ll assist you,” Hawks whispered, and your stomach fluttered in anticipation.

There weren’t many times in your internship where Hawks would say that. Working with one of the fastest and swiftest Pro Heroes ever meant that you were always fighting for a spot on the table. The days of Hawks swooping over the city faster than the eye could follow were still there; in fact, most of his sidekicks were probably cleaning up the mess the two of you had left five cities behind you.

But you were different than them, you guessed.

You were only fifteen years old when Hawks scouted you for an internship, and while you had heard the rumors of what working with the — at the time — number three hero was like, it wasn’t like that. Speed was something you had always lacked. Sure, you were faster than any past Olympian, and any ordinary citizen, but in comparison to your hero peers, you were slow. After a humiliating loss of your first Sports Festival on account of being too slow, it was an almost sweet irony that the fastest Hero took an interest in you.

But it was good. Three years you had worked with him, three years of learning how to keep up with the fastest hero by breaking your body down on multiple occasions. At first, it had been just trying to keep up with his sidekicks who cleaned up after his mess, who were extremely quick as it is. Then after figuring out how to use your power quirk to make yourself faster, something that had been helped with a fight or flight response on your own end, you were able to become faster than most Pros.

But that wasn’t anything in comparison to Hawks still, but when a sixteen-year-old girl saves your life because you overshot your ability to fight, it’s easy to incorporate said sixteen-year-old girl into your regular routine.

The initial introduction of you into his regular routine was less than ideal, he had simply stated to follow after him and would be gone. But with time, he took to holding onto you while he flew, which meant that you needed to include glasses and ear protectors into your costume.

With the glass crushing under the weight of your shoes, you crotched the slightest bit, looking over at Hawks with a smirk. Three years of teamwork had lead to moments like these, no need to communicate, and with a raise of an eyebrow, he nodded.

The feeling of his feathers skimming your back shot the anxiety coursing through you, and you ran out of the shattered window, Hawks hot on your heel and the villain coming straight at you.

In the long run, it didn’t mean much that you were physically stronger than Hawks could ever be, but it sure made you smile knowing that you were.

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“And that’s another point for me!” you grin watching as the police took the villain into their car, Hawks stood next to you with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What will I do? I have eighty-seven points, and that makes what? Twelve?”

“It’s not my fault you go for slow as shit villains,” you accuse, turning your nose up at him.

“Oh yeah? Should we hunt for the fa—”

“Hawks!”

The two of you froze in your quarrel, turning to a man who was towering over the two of you.

Endeavor.

“Endeavor, hi!” Hawks erupted into a wide grin, his eyes brightening while he looked up at the man he admired.

Trying to hide your snicker, you tilted your head, and your eyes widened seeing three boys behind him.

“Hey guys!” you wave at your classmates behind Endeavor.

“Y/h/n!” Deku greeted you with a large grin and a bow.

You smiled, even more, seeing the way that Bakugou and Shouto both addressed you in their own ways.

“How are you guys doing?”

The rather one-sided conversation between you and Deku made you laugh on many instances. It seemed that being the only work-study students had meant that they were always getting their asses beat. Not that you didn’t already know this, it was just humorous hearing it coming from Deku’s mouth.

“Is Tokoyami-kun not with you guys?” Deku asked, looking around at last for the raven headed student who did, in fact, work with Hawks.

“Not today! A neighboring agency requested his help, so it’s just Hawks and me today!” you nodded your head at the three boys who were quite famous within Japan.

“Are you okay? We heard about the villain; that’s why we’re here,” Shouto spoke, his eyes curious, and his head tilts.

Your face warms when you smile, nodding gratefully.

“I am,” you clasp your hands together, “Hawks got sent through a building, though.”

“Some fucking number two hero,” Bakugou scoffed, and you snickered not wanting to agree with your stupidly observant boss behind you.

“You guys look less than put together; what happened to you?” you asked, noticing the scruffs and dirt on all of their faces.

“Bakugou and Midoriya got into a fight mid-air, and I happened to be in the fire zone,” Shouto rolled his eyes. At the same time, your friends exploded into offensive and defensive arguments, respectively. “We fell into the middle of some villain fight weirdly enough.”

While you grinned at Shouto, your eyes locked completely, you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Alright, y/h/n, Endeavor says there’s a villain seven blocks ahead, and I think we can beat them there!” Hawks laughs, and you can’t say your goodbyes because his hands lift you into the air. “See you guys there!”

And you were off.

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Your limbs ached slightly when you reentered campus grounds. With your case in your right hand, there was nothing to do except trudge ahead, hoping to get to your dorm quickly.

“You’re back.”

You blinked and saw Shouto approaching you. He was in a casual outfit, most likely having been here for some time, seeing that it was eight at night.

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, pushing down your skirt in hopes to look presentable even with the bandage on your chin.

“I was waiting for you,” Shouto smiles gently, his hand brushing your cheek, observing the injury on your face. “You okay?”

“It was just a scratch, nothing too crazy,” you promise, and you smile under his warm touch.

There isn’t much surprise when his lips come and press against yours, and you hum contently feeling his warm skin moving gently against yours.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Shouto whispered, finally pulling away from you. You groaned, having not been satisfied with the simple liplock, but opened your eyes to see that he was studying your face again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease, your nose scrunching with your words.

“I have so many already.”

“I know,” you smile, dragging him away, “I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long for you to get a proper dinner. With you being out for your only day off, you were pleased to see that there was a plate of food waiting for you that was left behind by your classmates. So you sat in the dining area of the dorm, eating the food while talking with Shouto.

You told him about the rest of your day, of how the two of you were close to cracking this case of serial cases of disappearing Pro Heroes who would reemerge days later without memory. The two of you had been working on it for a week now and had multiple promising leads. With the end of your career at UA coming in only five days, you were excited about the possibility of cracking this case after your graduation to help give you a good running start as a sidekick on the Hero Charts.

But before you knew it, it was already past eleven, and with classes tomorrow, it was time for you to go your separate ways.

“You don’t want me to spend the night?” he asks while you walk unconvincingly to the door of your floor, your hands grasping his.

“You know that I do, but I can’t let that happen yet,” you pout, watching as Shouto nods in understanding. “Soon, I swear.”

“I just can’t believe my girlfriend has no self-control that I can’t even sleep in her bed without her wanting to fuck me,” Shouto sighs and while you splutter, telling him how he’s wrong, he places a goodnight kiss onto your forehead and leaves with a kind smile and a small wave.

Stupid son of a bitch.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had morals and ethics that you had told to Shouto well before things turned serious for the two of you. Sex was something you were always nervous about, not in the sense that it was a bad thing — god forbid you’d ever slut-shame anyone — but more that you wanted it to be special.

It had to be with the right person at the right time.

Shouto was someone you knew was the right person, but as your hormonal feelings for Shouto grew and you realized one late night that you were grinding against his bucking hips, your face hot, his lips and teeth pulling at the sensitive flesh of your neck did you realize that this was so not okay. You had pushed Shouto onto the ground, his eyes dazed and confused while you began to say that you were so not ready for this step of the relationship. But it wasn’t like it was the only time you’ve blue balled your boyfriend… no, you had done it time and time again.

So much so that Shouto practically refused to be in a room alone with you now because it always ended with one of you pinned to the bed and Shouto being launched onto the floor.

With a sigh, you watched Shouto turn around, walking backward with a small wave and a grin when you blew him a kiss and flipped him off. He called you the moment he was back in his room, and although you weren’t letting him stay in your bed with you, you did fall asleep on the line with him, his steady breathing lulling your heavy eyes to sleep.

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Hawks watched while you trudged into his office, your face pulled into a pout, a bandage sitting on your cheek.

“Morning,” you call out, exhaustion evident on your face.

“What’s up with you?” he smirks, watching you walk to his desk and slumping onto a chair, your eyes closing.

“So tired,” you murmur, your head nestling into your arms, ready to fall asleep. “I didn’t sleep much last night?”

“Why’s that?”

“Stupid boyfriend,” you mumbled.

It had been three days since you had last been in the office, with graduation preparations, Hawks couldn’t call you out as often. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about, no. Hawks froze, replaying your words in his head like a broken record. He didn’t know you had a—

“Boyfriend?”

Those words passing his lips only made you groan louder, your head nodding, “Yeah… I’m dating Endeavor's son Shouto… for about… a year now!”

Hawks' brain went into overdrive.

A year of dating, and this was the first he’s ever heard of it! He had been your mentor, your boss, for three years and never before had you even mentioned a boyfriend before. Hawks lips pressed together, a looming pit of jealousy forming in his stomach. His feathers fluttered, his arms crossing.

Hawks was used to knowing everything, to being able to get what he wanted most, and he was planning on asking you out when you graduated. He had sworn his feelings had been returned; after all, who couldn’t find themselves falling for the young and hot number two hero?

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I can have him steal you a pair of Endeavors underwear if you want, I know you’d like that!”

Hawks looks down at your teasing face, his nose scrunching in mock disgust, “Please, I don’t need a baby stealing Endeavors underwear for me. I can get them myself!”

Your smile is warm, and Hawks watches while you pull out your phone, quickly texting something.

“What? Telling your boyfriend you made it safe and sound?”

“Actually… yeah…” you mumble while finishing up your text.

Now Hawks wasn’t evil, he knew that; he also wasn’t used to losing, because that wasn’t him. But there was something odd about the way his stomach twisted and his feathers raised at that confirmation, and the words poured from his mouth without him ever having the chance to stop them.

“Does he make you text him?”

You nod, a grateful smile on your face when you drop your phone. “Isn’t it sweet? I think it’s… why are you making that face?”

“What face?” Hawks fluttered his eyes, mock innocence for the first time not sitting correctly on his face.

“That one, Hawks!” you laughed, throwing your case at him. “The one that looks like when I stole your chicken leftovers.”

Hawks snorted, and he shook his head, deciding to walk out of his office to begin his daily routine; after all, these morning conversations were apart of said routine.

“I don’t know... He knows you’re strong and that you’re here with me, and yet he doesn’t trust that you’ll get here? Or is it in a controlling sense?”

“W-What?”

Hawks turned around and looked at you, your eyebrows scrunched, eyes looking down at your phone.

But when your eyes rose to meet his, Hawks simply smiled, his head shaking.

“Never mind!”

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It didn’t stop there. No Hawks had officially lost his brains with how he was approaching this. Everything out of his mouth concerning your boyfriend was bitter, foul, and implementing lies in your mind. A desperate attempt to get you to feel like Shouto wasn’t good enough that he was manipulating you and Hawks watched while you carefully danced to his tune, your frown deepening with every sweet lie that rolled off his lips.

“I’m hanging out with him and his siblings tonight!” you announced after the day at work was done.

Your smile was bright once more, a day on the field improving your mood. Hawks nodded his head, remembering how the Todoroki siblings were good people, and how you also had siblings.

“His siblings too?”

“Yup!” you nod. “I’ve gotten to know his siblings really well! They’re really great! We go over so often, and I like to believe that I’m close with his family now!”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hawks smiles, his head tilting to the side. Faux innocence. “How about your family? Is Todoroki close with your family?”

Your jaw opens, and your head drops, your head guilty shaking no. “It’s a bit harder for that to happen, and he met them once and well… it didn’t go too well.”

Hawks eyes widen, his hand rubbing the back of his head with a heavy sigh, “Ah, I see… don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Um… no, not really?”

“Well, as an outsider, and your friend, Imma have to tell you that it’s weird. It sounds like he doesn't like your family? He’s not trying to control you, is he? Not trying to isolate you from them, right?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, and Hawks watches with over bubbling joy at the doubt and realization growing on your face. He was hitting the right nerves.

“I-It’s okay!” you chirp, your feet dragging against the floor while you move to leave. “It's probably not that!”

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“Another movie outing with his friends?”

“We’re watching the newest All Might documentary, it’s not like it's a banger!”

“Todoroki just never seems to care to include your friends or do things with your friends. It seems like he’s trying to keep you confide in his friend group.”

“My friends haven’t… they haven’t said anything?”

“Who would? You’re dating the most powerful son of the number one hero, no one would dare to speak up against him, especially if he told them to stay away from you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Shouto…”

“I mean, Todoroki is jealous of the way that your family loves you, and that’s why you’re always with his family. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t keep you from your friends too?”

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to believe me, of course! I’m sure he’s a great kid, after all, he did choose you to be his girlfriend.”

You scoff, shoving Hawks with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Nah, you’re amazing, y/n, and you should know it.”

“Mkay, pigeon, egg off.”

“Oof, I’m so scared!”

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Your world spun, and you crashed onto your back with a low groan, jolts of nervous energy coursing through your nerves while you remained pinned to the floor. Hawks stared at you from above, his jacket long since discarded, and his hands grasping your wrists while he straddled you.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve been able to pin you since you were sixteen!” Hawks laughed, but he immediately took notice in the way you were grimacing.

You didn’t do that often, but you weren’t done yet. Shifting your weight up and over, quickly, you managed to pin Hawks to the ground, his head bouncing against the matted floor with a groan of dismay on his skin. Your nose was brushing against his, his warm breath expelling gently against your face. No! You pulled away suddenly, your heart in your throat at the nearly intimate contact. But it was too much movement on your own end because your body screamed at you.

Your breathing was shallow, a feeble attempt to calm the pulsating pain that traveled through your nerves.

“What is it?”

“I was sparring Shouto last night,” you mutter, feeling Hawks’ fingers immediately searching your skin for injuries. “You know how he sucks at close range combat, but he must’ve been practicing with Bakugou and Deku because he’s never been able to land hits like that…”

With your jacket pooling from your shoulder, Hawks fingers traced over the bruises that colored your skin. Ugly purple, green, and yellow all over. You hissed when he applied pressure to one, and you flinched, getting off of him.

“Are you sure this was sparring and him not beating you?!”

“I would know the difference between sparring and an ass beating,” you groaned, your eyebrow scrunching while he took you in more. “Besides, you should see how he is. I still won!”

You were silent Hawks words ringing heavy in your ears.

Did Shouto… was this a sign that he wasn’t who you thought he was?

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“Shouto?” you whispered, your knuckles rapping at the door, hopeful he was in his room. “Are you in?”

You heard the sound of footsteps against the floor and watched the door open. There Shouto stood, wearing black sweatpants and a white tank he leaned against the door. Your eyes caught sight of the black bruises against his skin courteous of your sparring last night.

“Y/n?” he expresses with a pleasant surprise. Shouto’s hand reaches for yours, but you flinch away, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your head nodding, “Sorry, long day, and um, I’m still sore from yesterday…”

“Yesterday? Ohh~ what happened yesterday?” You watched with the smallest amount of amusement when Sero revealed himself, his arm thrown around Shouto’s shoulder with a stack of manga in his hands.

“We spared, why?” Shouto asked with that perfect density that Sero stammered, unable to recover from Shouto’s lack of an appropriate response.

“Boring, anyways, I’ll bring these back soon, I promise!”

You and Shouto bid Sero goodnight, and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Shouto looked back down at you.

“Care to come in?”

“I would.”

You sat on Shouto tatami, your knees bent with your arms wrapped around them while he rummaged around.

“Here, I made some healing ointment for the bruises,” Shouto said, placing the white container on your knees while he sat in front of you. “I know that even though you won, my kicks probably hurt like a bitch.”

“The biggest bitch,” you agreed, watching while he unscrewed the ointment and began to delicately place the salve on your skin. It immediately cooled down the warm skin, and you studied his face while he did so. His touch was gentle, almost too soft for someone as battle-ready as himself. But he was on a mission to make you feel better, and for every bruise he covered, he apologized.

Soon enough, every bruise was covered, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until Shouto’s eyes widened when he noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, the days worth of anxiety that Hawks had been instilling into you, finally pouring from your lips.

“What?!”

“It’s just… with the texting you where I am, and who I’m with even when you know before I leave! A-And how about my family? I always go with your family, but the one time you met mine, it was disastrous! And then you never w-want to hang out with my friends! And you were so hard on me during sparring last night… Did you want to hurt me?! Why are you trying to isolate me?! Are you trying to control me?! You’re a powerful person Shouto a-and with your dad being the most powerful person I just… are you forcing people away from me?!” Tears poured from your eyes, your sleeves rubbing away the tears on your face, the ointment gathering on the fabric,

Shouto instantly reached out to you, but you shifted away from him, your face burning with embarrassment from your outburst. You wanted Hawks to be wrong, Shouto was good. He was an idiot, but he was a good boyfriend. Please prove him wrong, you thought. Please.

“Is that how you feel?” Shouto asked, his voice quiet but steady. His hand was pressed against the duvet, centimeters from your side. Not touching you, but giving you the ability to reach him when you were ready. “I just… I’ve never done this before, you know that. Y/l/n y/n, you are someone that I am way too lucky to have in my life. I asked what are boyfriend appropriate things to do from my classmates, and I guess I might have been overdoing it myself. I ask for a text because I want to make sure you get places okay. I know you’re powerful and can take on anyone, but it’s because you’re powerful; it makes you a target to villains. I honestly thought you liked my siblings a lot, so I wanted to keep you with them because if they’re your friends, you deserve to see them. I am sorry about your family, but they are assholes, and you know that.

“But if you want to go visit and hang out with them more — with or without me — I would never stop you! I know I can’t keep blaming myself for being new to all of this a year into our relationship, but I didn’t know it was appropriate to invite your friends to hang out with us when we were with my friends. I thought they wouldn’t want to hang out with us guys. I also know you enjoy your alone time, and you tend to spend alone time with your friends, and I never want to intrude. I am so sorry for making you feel this way.”

“No,” you sniffle, your tears turning from one of sadness to those of guilt. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against yours ever so gently. “It’s my fault you felt like I was isolating you, controlling you. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove myself that I can change, I’d like that.”

There wasn’t stopping the way that you threw yourself into his arms, your tears soaking his neck, and he pressed gentle after gentle kiss against your temple until you were no longer crying.

For the first time in your relationship, you spent the night, and against what you had previously thought, the two of you did nothing more than embrace in a wet lip-lock.

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Graduation finally came around, and to say the least, you were excited.

Finally, you were now a Pro Hero — well, really a sidekick, but that didn’t matter! The entire day you spent it on campus, watching the graduation ceremony take place with your classmates at your side. Tears were shed, photos were taken, and the end of your high school career came to a close.

Due to your accomplishment, something that wasn’t at all doubted in the first place, Hawks had thrown Tokoyami and you a large party in celebration. You were, after all, the first students to have gone through his agency for all three years of high school, and he deemed that celebratory worthy.

With such an occasion and countless years ahead of you to be on your top tier game, it was to no surprise that you were letting loose at this party. And yes, by letting loose, you meant being drunk.

Me: shoutoooo baby i loe you oh so much

Shouto: I love you too, make sure you get water to drink and don’t have an empty stomach.

Me: i had dinnerr with you remeber !!!! no empty stomach here!!!!!

Me: im sorry for crying that night that was so dumb of me to being insecure about

Shouto: you should still be eating more if you’re planning on drinking more. And it’s okay, it’s equally my fault as it is yours.

You stared at the text, your vision slightly blurry while you imagined just what you would do with Shouto soon. You bit your lip with a grin, but with a sudden loss of balance, you stumbled back into someone.

“Oops, sorry!” you yelled louder than you expected, turning around to greet whoever you had run into. You saw a familiar face with a bird head standing there with his arms outreached to balance your stumbling form. “Tokoyami-kun! I didn’t know you were still here!!! I would’ve taken a shot with you! Oh my god, I LOVE your jacket! Where did you get it!”

Tokoyami smiled, his head nodding, “I happened to have it lying around, although I can’t remember where I cross paths with it, to begin with. And I couldn’t forsake you by leaving before you were ready. It’ll be pleasant to have you around all the time with Hawks starting in a few days.”

You nodded your head, your hands stretching out in an attempt to respond animatedly, but yelped when you slapped someone instead.

“OH, NO! Did I hurt you?! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, turning to the second person you had hit in a matter of minutes.

It was Hawks.

“It seems she is quite inebriated,” Tokoyami pointed out, and you nodded in agreement.

“I am!”

Hawks chuckled, his head shaking, “Imma take her back to my place then, she’s a disaster in the making if we let her stay here.”

There wasn’t room for debate because you were suddenly in his arms and waving goodbye to Tokoyami, your sense of judgment gone.

“Take me hoooomeeee,” you sang into Hawks's ear when he soared into the night sky, and much to your amusement, Hawks continued your song.

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Shouto sat in the common room, his eyes shifting to check his phone every so often. He knew you were drunk, that had been very clear the moment you called him only twenty times pretending to not be you while slurring your sentences. Nothing was stopping the uneasy feeling in his chest after you had explained yourself and your feelings that one night, he had put together that Hawks liked you. But without definite proof, he didn’t want to claim such things.

And while he had no doubts about your ability to protect and defend yourself, there was no saying if that was true if you weren’t sober. Hell, he’s fought you sleepy once, and there was a significant difference between you being alert and you being exhausted.

Regardless, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard something back from you, and with his classmates currently celebrating the end of the year by playing video games, he was there alongside them.

“I’ve returned,” Tokoyami called from the entrance, and Shouto turned around to see the bird head man walking to approach the gathering of the few remaining classmates in front of the common room's TV. He said his greetings before coming to rest by Shouto��s side. “The party was a bit too loud, but I think you would have enjoyed entertaining it.”

“It’s your guys night,” Shouto shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t need to be there when it was her work friends. How is she doing?”

“Ah, well you see,” Tokoyami nodded his head, his fingers raking through his black hair, “She was quite drunk, so Hawks-san took her back to his place to sober up, most likely spend the night at his place — Todoroki?!”

Shouto had no idea why bitter fire raged in his chest; all he knew is that for the first time ever while he slipped on his shoes and his jacket, he pulled up a contact he didn’t expect he would be using so casually.

“Shouto?!”

“Do you know where Hawks lives, Endeavor?”

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“Are you feeling better?” Hawks asks you, taking the bottle of water from your hands.

The low sparks of the alcohol that had once been coursing through your body had simmered into slow pulses. You knew you weren’t one hundred percent sober, but you were sober enough to realize that you should have asked Hawks to take you to the dorms instead.

“If you’re asking if I’m no longer sloppy… you’re in luck,” you sigh, a tired grin spreading on your face while you reach for your phone. You frown, seeing that it was dead, but it didn’t matter much; you would get home without it being alive anyways. “Thanks for sobering me up; I think you could have done it back at the party, though.”

Hawks snorted, his head tilting up, his head in thought. “I definitely could have done that, but I didn’t want you taking shots in secret while trying to sober you up.”

“I’m sure you could handle me just fine.”

“The last thing I can remember is that you are physically stronger than me and if you’re drunk… well, I was scared you’d kill me by accident.”

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically, your eyes rolling in your amusement.

Silence overtook you both, and your gaze fell to your hands. You wanted to ask him why he was so insistent on Shouto being toxic, and how he did a 180 the second you told him about how the two of you talked things through.

“Did you want me and Shouto to break up?” you ask quietly, unsure of what you wanted him to answer. “I keep thinking of everything, and that’s the only thing that makes sense to me and all the controlling business…”

Hawks stared at you, his eyes void of all emotion, and yet you felt like he was more open to you than he had even been before. His mouth moved to answer, but there was a knock at his door.

With a heavy sigh, Hawks rose to his feet, “I don’t think I should answer your question.”

So there you sat, his once comfortable couch feeling stiff and hard.

“Y/l/n?” Shouto’s voice rang through the apartment, and your eyes widened. You got up off the couch, your head pounding just slightly while you clamored to the front door. There you saw Shouto staring down at Hawks, how funny it was that your eighteen-year-old boyfriend was taller than a twenty-seven years old Pro Hero.

“Tokoyami told me you were here, and I wouldn’t want to bother a busy hero with taking care of my girlfriend when I can do that myself,” Shouto spoke, his eyes narrowing down onto Hawks as the words my girlfriend let his tongue. But it also sent a shiver down your spine, a coursing ember that had been ignored this night, reigniting it once more.

You were ready, you realized when his blue and grey eyes found yours.

“Thanks for tonight, Hawks,” you wheeze, grabbing your shoes at the door and quickly pulling them on. “I’ll see you in the office in two days!”

With nothing more to say, you grabbed Shouto by his wrist and pulled him away.

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The campus was quiet when you arrived, the day of excitement having long since simmered down as the clocks read two in the morning. This would be your last night in your dorm, most of your classmates had chosen to move out today as well, but with no one to help you out while you were at the party, you decided to stay one more night. But with the way your blood was pumping, and how you could feel the jealousy coursing through Shouto’s veins, you wanted to get back to your room as quickly as possible.

Entering the dorm building that was made for your class, you felt Shouto pulling his hand from yours, obviously ready to begin his goodnight routine.

Shouto’s hands grasped your cheeks, fingers hot against your cold skin, and his eyes staring down at you. Millions of emotions coursed through his gaze, but you were focused on the one that spoke of his love for you. His lips pressed down against yours, and you met him in full earnest. His lips pulling against yours, sending fire through your body, sensations that sparked only the familiar excitement you had always denied in the past. You could practically taste his unspoken anger and jealousy on his tongue, and it only made you crave more from him.

You were ready.

“Goodnight,” Shouto whispers against your lips softly, and you laugh. Your hands move up to cup his cheeks, and he pulls you in closer, his hands firmly placed onto your lower back. “I’ll come to your room in the morning to help you pack up.”

“Stay the night,” you say softly, your teeth tugging at your lower lip that was warm from his efforts. “I’m ready.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, his eyebrow lifting slightly, “You want to fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you groan, pinching his cheeks in your embarrassment. But his eyes were bright, and the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the air, and your legs found their place around his waist. “You sap!”

“Prude.”

“Say that one again, I’m finally going to let you smash, whor—”

He shut you up with a kiss.

It’s a slow kiss, one that warmed you up effortlessly, intimate contact pressing between the two of you, but nervous energy chipping through you fully. Your head tilts to the side, the kiss deepening, and your arms pulling him in closer. The two of you pull away slowly, both of your eyes slowly opening to look at each other in a whole new light and a fire under your skin, and something is silent between the two of you. Growing silently, steadily, and coming crashing down all at once.

“I love you…” Shouto murmurs, and that’s all it takes. The movements are desperate now, his steps quick and steady while your mouth clashes against his. Deep, ardent, fulfilling. You can’t help the nervously aggressive make out, tongues pushing against each out, drawing out noises you weren’t quite used to hearing. Low groans and pants you had known, but never in this context, and you were addicted. But Shouto must be thinking the same thing, for when you finally make it to your dorm room’s door, his mouth trails from your mouth. Sloppy and burning hot kisses trail down your cheek, to your jaw, before pressing searingly against your neck, and you mewl at the feel of his warm lips on your neck. Your eyes fluttering closed when his lips left hot and wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your lips met again, and this time you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer. His hands are moving vehemently up and down your back, making you shiver and arch against his traveling fingers. But when his nails glide delicately against an exposed piece of skin on you back, you gasped into his mouth, and the door opened loudly against his need to get to your bed.

A soft giggle leaves your lips when darkness falls against your closed eyes, and your hips shift in your state of need. Only that you weren’t expecting to feel him tremble under your actions or the pleasurable hiss that passed to your lips. your eyes opening to see Shouto’s eyes still closed despite the fact he was walking with you.

“I love you so much,” you whisper into his ear when you pull away from the kiss. Your fingers raking through his hair, your teeth nibbling onto his earlobe, his throaty groan a sign of victory. “Thank you for being wonderful.”

Shouto’s lips are back on yours, greedily seeking more contact, and you don’t hold back as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You feel the mattress of your bed hit your back as you continue to kiss him, sitting up so you could crawl back to let Shouto onto the bed with you. You smile once again as Shouto’s hand rests on the bed frame behind you, while the other one rests on the small of your back, keeping your torsos pressed together.

Your hands are fisted into Shouto’s hair, the small tugs from your hand blazing his own blood, making him press his growing length against your thighs, and his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You moan softly, your head tilting up, and you open up your mouth so that your tongues meet halfway. You start moving to unbutton your graduation outfit, and Shouto hastily pulls away, and your eyes open, his mouth is stained with your the leftovers of your makeup, and he looks concerned.

“Are you sure, y/n?” Shouto asks, his hands stroking your side. His gaze is intense, unmoving, and challenging. “If you’re not ready for this, I won’t be hurt.”

You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your lips as you sit up, making Shouto sit on his haunches while you move to your knees, “I always knew I wanted my first time to be with you, I just wanted the moment to be perfect… and this is perfect to me,” you confess to Shouto, and you watch his eyes soften when you press a soft kiss to his lips.

Pulling away, you stripped of your clothes and dropped it on the floor next to the bed, your breath hitching as Shouto stares at your now only lingerie-clad body, and you blush.

“Shit, you’re beautiful,” Shouto murmurs like a man who had seen something divine for the first time ever.

Your heart roars in your chest, your blood pulsating through your sensitive body while he leans in close. His mouth presses against the swell of your breasts, trailing down to the valley between your mounds. Your body quivers in your overwhelming emotions and sensations. Shouto presses you back onto the mattress, his calloused hands pressing right below your breasts, heating emitting in large waves from both hands, making your mind spin in needy desperation.

“Are you okay?” Shouto murmurs, his lips feeling the gentle movements of your body.

“I am,” you breathe, your eyes shut tightly. You wanted to feel his lips and forget everything else in the world. This was a night of passion, and you’d be damned if your anticipation was going to stop you. “Don’t stop.”

A low chuckle vibrated against his throat, sending gentle waves through you, and you moaned the second his fingers pressed against your breasts. Shouto’s hands worked your breasts tentatively, his eyes studying your flushed face while he kneaded the tender flesh.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned when his finger brushed against your erect and clothed nipple, your hips quivering underneath him.

“Did that feel good?” Shouto hums, and when you confirm his thoughts, coldness hits your chest. Your eyes open to see that he’s discarded your bra and that his lips are millimeters from your breasts. “Do you want me to do more to you?”

The words are curious, but you don’t miss the glint in his eye, but he’s long since knocked the air from your lungs.

“I need to hear your words, princess,” Shouto smiles softly, his warm breath fanning against your erect nipples that cried for attention. “What do you say?”

“P-Please…” you breathe, your body squirming in your denied attention.

“Perfect.”

The feeling of his hot and wet mouth encasing your nipple sent you impossibly over the moon, your body arching off the bed, a lament cry heavy on your mouth while his tongue circled and flicked your nipple. His eyes were on you, you could feel his stare burning into your body, but you couldn’t even see, your eyes closed in your throbbing pleasure.

More, you wanted more.

His finger pinched your free nipple, pulling and rolling the pert skin between his fingers, your wanton cries only fueling him further. Liquid heat coursed through your veins, your pleasurable sensations overwhelming you, and your hips began to hump against his clothed thigh. The friction of his jeans against your barely clothed cunt sending you well beyond the confinements of pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “I love you,” he confesses. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats.

Tender and sweet words fill your ears while he switches where his mouth and hands are. The kneading of your breasts, the manipulation of your nipples, and the way his thigh pressed against your throbbing cunt was sending you over.

Your breathing was unsteady, puffs escaping your lips in an overwhelming and failed attempt to calm yourself down. Shouto was on a mission, however, and his mouth removed from your cool breast with a soft pop, your breasts shining with the coats of saliva, and you shivered.

Shout hummed while he lips pressed the sensitive underside of your breasts, and continued downward, gentle after gentle kiss down your torso, until he made contact with your trembling inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his fingers toying with the band of your panties. You can barely hear him over the roar of your heart, but you know what he says, and you nod. He smiles kindly, placing one final kiss to your thigh before pulling off your panties.

Instinctively, your legs try to close, nerves firing away, but Shouto keeps your legs wide open, and his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you arch off the mattress. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open, the addicting sensation of his hot tongue against your equally hot core burning you.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your clenching wet walls, swirling in circles and pushing further in. His fingers thrust into you at an amble speed, aiding to your pleasure sent descent on the mattress. On one lick, one godly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your thighs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling legs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge by speaking a language you knew nothing of.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips rolling desperately against his mouth. Your hips were stammering against his compelling tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore, your orgasm is right on edge, but you stop him.

“Wait!” you push him off of you, your chest heaving, and the wet arousal pouring from your cunt was slick against his mouth, and confusion evident on his face. “I don’t want to… I want to cum on your cock.”

“Okay,” Shouto pants with amusement, and you watched when his fingers — which were coated in your essence — slipped into his mouth, sucking it clean. The image of that sent electrifying pleasure through you, and your mouth watered at the thought of sucking him off. “What is it?”

“Get up,” you command, your hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and he was quick to stand on your bed, and you were on your knees. Your knees buck under your weight, and you help Shouto remove his pants. You watch in an almost lusting virgin horror when his cock springs out from under his underwear. The hard cock slaps against his lower stomach, and you take in the way that his cock is thick, with bulging veins, and precum leaking from his head.

There was no going back, it seemed.

Steeling yourself over, you wait for his feet to be free, and the moment he’s out of his jeans, your hands immediately encompass his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You marveled at the way the skin was unearthly warm and impossibly hard in your grip. This is what was going to be buried in your cunt in moments time?

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in initial unknowing movement. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “You can’t make fun of me if I’m bad, okay?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t think that’s possible from you, princess.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sense of hope when you notice the tremble in his legs, “We’ll see!”

Licking your lips, your mouth opens, and you let the head of his cock press pass your lips. The dark pink head is hot in your mouth, and your tongue presses against the flat of his head, swirling your tongue around, testing his reaction. By the fluttering of his eyes, and the way that his hands seem to fight whether they should latch onto your hair, you reckon it’s okay.

So, you push on ahead, moving further down his impressive cock. His girth so full you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes on you.

Good god, you pray you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not choking yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto praise your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your neck, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Oh shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he struggles to not overwhelm you. “You’re amazing, of course, you would be good at this,” he gasps as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s distracted while he fucks your throat, but you’re even more desperate to keep up. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter, and your teeth dragging against the sensitive skin.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a loud moan from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

“N-Not yet,” Shouto staggers, and you nod in agreement, watching him sink back to the bed.

“Take it off,” you mutter tugging at the hem of Shouto’s t-shirt, and he moves to take it off.

With your teeth tearing into your lower lip, you watch him remove the dark shirt. Shouto’s body had to be a sin while you stared at the rippling muscles on his body, something you had never truly appreciated before. They moved with his body, the faint scars littering his body for you to kiss and count later.

Tone and lithe. He was beautiful.

Shouto’s lips are back on yours as you kiss deeply, your head tilted to the side as his fingers gently grasp your chin. A shaky moan leaves your mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue, and Shouto moves his body so that you’re now on your back. The tips of your aroused nipples brush up against Shouto’s naked chest, and both of your release a throaty gasp as you pull him closer to you.

Your bodies were overshot with denied pleasure, and the mountaining need for more was finally being addressed.

Your leg hooks lazily around Shouto’s waist, and a sigh leaves your lips as Shouto gently grasps the back of your leg, running steady, consistent strokes from the end of your thigh to your ass.

A fire is building up in your gut as your hands work their way down to the buttons and zipper of his pants. His hands gripping your waist, and you could feel Shouto’s arousal pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing with need. You pulled away from Shouto and giggled as he attempted to follow you with closed eyes as you had to brush your hair out of your face, suddenly feeling hot.

“Y/n…” Shouto just about whined, and you smiled softly at him, finding it endearing and the slightest bit hot when he used that tone.

His hands were on your breasts, slowly stimulating your aroused nipples as he slowly massaged them, making sure to brush your nipple with his thumb every so often, and your head tossed back as you bite down hard on your lower lip. He once again kissed you ever so lovingly, and you felt him pulling away to line his cock with your entrance. You watch with hooded eyes as Shouto presses the head into you, teasing the both of you to extreme lengths, and you wantonly sighed.

You rest on your elbows, a smile on your face as Shouto moves his messy hair out of his eyes. As you stare at his slightly sweaty face covered by strands of different colored hair, your heart just about bursts.

“Make love to me, Shouto,” you say aloud as Shouto stares at you, his cock removing from your entrance and carted against your clit.

“I plan on it,” he smiles, and he grabs your ankle, pulling you closer to him, and you shriek with laughter until his lips engulf your sounds. “Are you ready?” Shouto asks once more, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick.

“Whenever you are,” you whisper into his neck, preparing for the initial pain.

You let out a cry of pleasure and pain as he slowly enters you, and you pant heavily, trying to contain your tears as he manages to push all the way in. Your eyes clench as you bit your lip, your head buried into his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry as he stretches you out. Shouto is panting too at the feeling of your tight walls clenching against him, they’re unable to relax against his cock. It’s not until the head of his cock hits the wall of your cervix does he stop, and even then he’s not entirely in you.

Your breathing is harsh, and you feel like you’re sweating as you look down at the now joined body. The feeling of him entirely in you makes your head spin, the pressure in your lower belly could be from just Shouto within you or from your slowly growing orgasm, you had no idea.

“Are you o-okay?” Shouto stutters very clearly still adjusting to having his cock in you.

“Yeah, just… trying not to die,” you manage to croak out, and eventually, you collapse onto the bed, looking up at Shouto, who seems to be concentrating hard.

“You’re just super t-tight,” Shouto gasps as you wrap a leg around his waist.

It’s a good move, but it’s too quick as a sharp pleasure pained fire shoots through you as you slam your forehead against his shoulder.

“Too fast,” you snap in regret you try to calm your head. This was too much for you, you felt like every nerve was firing all at once on your inner wall, and no orgasm had reached you yet.

“It’s okay… breathe...”

It takes a few moments, but sure enough, you manage to raise your leg to his waist, and both of you moan at the new level of penetration and the way it made your walls clench around him. “Move,” you command, and Shouto falls onto his forearms as he nods.

Shouto moves his hips back, and slowly almost painfully slow, returns them to the original position, and even with the smallest movement, a lewd moan escapes your lips. Shouto continues going in and out, his hips slowly moving while you start to meet him with every thrust.

Whispers of encouragement escape both your lips as his slow thrusting continues.

Shouto picks up your legs so that they’re both wrapped around his waist, and he comes to lean over you. At the new angle, your head is thrown backward, and you let out a string of soft curses. “Shit, that feels so good,” you cry out in encouragement as you bit down on your lip harshly.

Your lips are soon sought after by Shouto’s as sheen layers of sweat cover both your bodies as the consistent moving of both your hips never falters.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit, you feel so good,” Shouto grunts, his hips picking up in speed as he drills into you faster, the sound of your meeting sweaty bodies echoing in your room.

Soon you can hear the sounds of your bed hitting the wall, and a cry escapes your lips as Shouto’s finger grazes your clit.

“Say my name…” Shouto grunts as he presses harder on your clit, and you can feel the coil within you getting tighter, but at the moment, all you can give is wordless cries. “Say it, y/n.”

“S-Shouto!” you scream out as you shake with an overwhelming need to climax, but Shouto’s finger leaves your clit and goes to keep your hands above your head.

“Are you enjoying this?” Shouto teases as he slams into you at full force again, your cunt tightening sinfully against his length, electricity coursing through your veins while you cry his name. “You’re so good, shit.”

“Oh my god, yes, Shouto!” your voice splutters, and his hands leave your wrist to gently pinch your nipple and clit. You go speechless, and your mind spins as he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder, and all you can do is let your jaw drop as the new position lets you see stars.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved entirely within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh at the back of his neck. You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. He wasn’t going too fast, just fast enough to have wet smacks echoing through the room, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. He pulled out entirely so he would have the ability to drill back into your wet cunt. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“I needa cum,” you shriek, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the spastic vice-like clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his mouth connecting with your breast, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, baby,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Cum..”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

“That was…” you mumble, your mind unable to think straight.

“Something?”

You snort, your head nodding.

“Yeah… something…”

“I love you, y/n,” Shouto whispers against your temple, and you sigh, contentness and warmth flooding your aching body.

“I love you, too.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader

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