#and they push spike away like its no wonder she fucks him so much this season

[femslashspuffy]

"After life" pisses me off so much

Spike leaving the room the second the scoobies come in

Xander saying "you better not start your little obsession again" are you fucking kidding me

That shot of the scoobies from the low angle.... them all talking over her about how awful hell was while dawn and spike were kinda just talking to her calmly

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of it - 5 - Uncomfortably Honest

Character: Jason Todd x civilian! Fem!oc

Rating and Warnings: PG, discussion of past partner abuse (not Jason).

Word Count: 1,639

Summary: Jason and Andy talk about vigilantes who kill people. Andy wonders why he knows so much about these things. Jason wonders why she

Masterlist

Jason typed on his laptop, one handed, with his lips pursed and an irritated spike in eyebrows. His other arm hung in a grey sling with the ends of a bright red cast visible at his wrist. 

Andy sat next to him and restrained herself from grinning at his grouchy face. He had been in a rotten mood since he broke his arm a few weeks ago. ‘Fell off his bike’, he said. He couldn’t do his normal night shifts and was stuck doing admin in the meantime. She’d even gotten texts from him in the mornings. Things were getting dire. 

She’d demanded he join her in the library. If he was just going to be at home sulking over a laptop he may as well come sulk over a laptop with her.  

Outside it was raining, but there were no external windows in the study room, or any windows at all. The only lighting was yellow tinged from old fluorescent tubes. The old oil radiator ticked in the corner. She’d covered the large table they shared with reference books and loose notes, while Jason had only a slim laptop he hunched over. 

He took a disinterested bite from a stale croissant. He sighed and looked at her. 

“What are you working on? That essay on Dumas?”

She shook her head and finished scrawling out a sentence. “History paper today. I’m translating primary sources on the Reign of Terror.”

��Yeah?” He pushed his laptop away, happy to be distracted, and leaned his elbow on the table to face her. “How’s that?” 

“Linguistically fascinating. Thematically… really fucking grim.” She made a face. It was easy to forget the content sometimes as she focused on syntax and word choice. “I don’t mind three or four public executions, or even five or six, but I’m starting to think this is getting out of hand.” 

He snorted. “Not on board with the death sentence?”

“There isn’t a government on this planet I trust with the right to execute its own citizens. Or any other planet for that matter.” 

“Hm. What about the capes?”

She stared at him. “I don’t think they should be executed either? Jason, do you think-?”

“What? No!” He huffed a laugh. “I’m asking if you think vigilantes should kill people. They say that Batwoman with the red hair does sometimes.”

“Not my business.”

“Oh, come on!”

She shrugged. “What?”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “You live in the most cape infested city in the world, and the most crime ridden, in a suburb literally named ‘Crime Alley’, and you don’t have an opinion?”

“Do you?”

“I asked first.”

She sighed and leaned back. “You can be really intense sometimes, you know that?” It was like getting hit with a floodlight in the dark when he turned it on. It made her feel naked. 

His brow lowered. “Do you really not care?” 

She opened then shut her mouth. She hated the idea that he might think that about her. 

“What do you want me to say here?” she asked. “That I think criminals should be gunned down in the streets? Of course not. If you ask half the pricks in the Diamond District they’d probably tell you living in Crime Alley is evidence of being a criminal.”

“Probably.” 

“But what do the other vigilantes do? Leave you for the cops? How many people did the GCPD kill last year?”

“A few hundred,” he said. His expression was just as serious, but less troubled. She still felt like she was under a swinging interrogator’s lamp, and her indignation rose.

“And if you’re lucky enough to not get murdered by the fucking cops then welcome to the prison industrial complex, doing its best Hotel California impression. I hope you weren’t planning to do anything more than underpaid menial labour for the rest of your life, because you are never getting a better job than that. Congratulations. You have received Gotham’s mercy.”

“What else should they do then?” 

She heaved a sigh, letting old grief and anger fall away. It was hardly Jason’s fault. 

“I don’t know.” The Red Hood had saved her life once, and that guy had sure as hell killed people before. She didn’t know if he still did. The police hated him. That wasn’t the heart of the matter for her. “I never said I have all the answers. I’m not running around in a funny hat trying to save the world, I don’t have to have the answers. 

“Funny hat,” Jason muttered, with a quirk of his lips. He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “You feel pretty strongly about this.”

She threw her hands up. “First I don’t care enough, now I care too much? What do you want from me? And don’t think I didn’t notice you demanding my take while refusing to share yours.”

“I think Gotham’s vigilantes are too disconnected from the people they claim to protect. Association with the police has alienated them from some of the city’s vulnerable. I think the vigilantes forget that they’re criminals too.” 

It was her turn to stare. That wasn’t a stray opinion formed from half remembered headlines, that was a belief with conviction. Not that she was surprised he had a concrete position, she knew he was smart and thoughtful. For someone who, until now, had never expressed even a passing interest in Gotham’s crime problem, it was… not what she’d expected at all. 

“Yeah… I guess so,” she said, uncertain.

He ducked his head. He tapped a stray key on his keyboard.

She got the strangest impression she’d just seen something of his heart, displayed without pretence. She wondered what burned such an opinion into him. She thought about her own unplanned rant. 

He faced his laptop, idly scrolling through a text file. She stuffed a bite of her croissant into her mouth while deciding if she wanted to share something of her own heart. If she could bear it. Jason could mock and scoff with the best of them, but he wasn’t cruel, and there were things he didn’t make fun of. 

She screwed her courage to the sticking place and took a deep breath.

“I have a friend,” she said, into the silence that had enveloped them.

He looked at her questioningly. 

“Let’s call her… Stacy. She was abused by her partner. Not violently, but… it was still bad.” Her voice didn’t shake, and she was proud of that. “He controlled her money and made sure she had no one to turn to except him. She escaped, eventually, but not without getting an assault charge and six months behind bars for throwing a lamp at him while trying to get out. In the eyes of the law, he’s squeaky clean.” She bit the inside of her cheek. Her eyes felt damp, the traitors. 

“If someone in a cape and a mask had smashed through the window that night and killed Kieran for what he did to- to Stacy-” Her voice failed. She looked away to try and regather herself. 

Jason took her hand. She clutched on tight. 

“It probably wouldn’t have been right. But it would have made me feel safer.” 

“What’s so wrong with that?” he asked gently. 

She laughed and it was bitter and more pathetic than she liked. “Because he’d say the same thing. Why won’t anyone think of poor little Kieran’s safety?”

“Because he’s a liar.” 

“I know.” 

“Stacy deserved better,” Jason said, his voice unshakeable. 

She risked looking at him. He met her eyes and there wasn’t a hint of pity or disgust or discomfort in his face. He was calm. She saw understanding shining so staunchly in his eyes it was confronting. Her gaze dropped.

“I know,” she whispered. If she said it enough, one day she might even believe it. She took her hand back and sniffed. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She laughed weakly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you this fine Tuesday morning.”

“I’m a big boy, I can take it. Thanks for telling me.” 

“I’m gonna get a refill,” she said, pointing at her empty water bottle and getting up. “Do you need-?”

He waved her off. 

She left the study room. She took a deep breath after the door closed behind her and headed to the bathrooms to wash her face and try to calm down. She was patting her face dry with a paper towel before she noticed she hadn’t even brought her water bottle. She laughed at herself, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Jason wouldn’t call her out on it. She stared down her reflection, with her splotchy cheeks and red eyes. Kieran would have called her pathetic and melodramatic and attention seeking. He’d have told her she was misremembering. 

She smiled at herself and walked out with her head held high. 

She siddled back into the study room without a word. Jason was tapping away at his laptop and didn’t make any kind of fuss over her looking like a mess. She picked up her notes and tried to find her place. 

“What’d you say his name was?” Jason asked about ten minutes later, not looking up. “Kieran…?”

“Mcleod,” she replied without thinking. She paused. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Just wondered if I knew him.”

“Doubt it. He’s in Newark. Runs some stupid tech startup.” 

Jason grunted in reply. “You gonna eat the rest of that croissant?”

“All yours.” 

They fell back into the quiet and easy camaraderie they usually shared. Most of her drive to get work done had melted, so she just made notes to flesh out later on.

Jason, however, was deeply focused on his work for the rest of the afternoon. The staccato of one handed typing played a steady beat like a war drum.

Next>>

[pasukiyo]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | tasm peter parker

tasm peter parker x f!reader 5,899 words warnings; smut, mentions of violence and death summary; she really shouldn’t have come to the party. she doesn’t belong here. and she really wasn’t trying to steal the backpack. and she certainly didn’t expect to feel so connected to a boy she had just met…

 Some trendy new pop song boomed and echoed throughout the room, and she fought the urge to stick her fingers into her ears deep enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear a single thing anymore. She’d only heard this same song playing everywhere from the supermarket down the street from her dorm, through the speakers of some car passing down the street with the windows rolled down, in the restaurant she’d been dragged to by one of her friends. 

 How many times can you put a song on repeat before it gets tired?

 Clearly, that limit hadn’t been reached yet. 

 A frat boy stumbled backwards into her side, the liquid in his red solo cup swishing around, streams falling down the side like tears. She could hear him laughing just over the music, and he didn’t turn to say sorry before following his friends drunkenly through the sea of tipsy students. 

 Her throat felt dry, and she grimaced, feeling as though she were swallowing knives. She found her way to the kitchen, peering down into the punch bowl set out. She blinked. It clearly wasn’t punch. 

 It wasn’t that she didn’t drink— she had once when she felt she had no other option when hanging out with her friend who brought a friend who brought another friend. One of the friends of a friend had taken it upon themselves to bring a bottle of whiskey, and she feared how it would look if she were the only one to not accept a cup. 

 She remembered looking down into the red solo cup, rolling her wrist and watching its contents swirl around. She remembered wondering if anybody was staring or wondering why she wasn’t drinking, and without looking up, she downed the whole thing in one burning gulp. 

 She needed some fresh air. 

 “Hey!”

 Just as she was about to make her much needed escape, she turned, her roommate making her way over to where she stood, her irises blurry, no doubt by the contents of the punch bowl. “Where are you off to?” Her roommate asked, her words slightly slurred. She wrapped her arms around herself, scanning the room. “Just getting some air,” she replied. “My head is pounding.”

 “Oh shit, did somebody spike your drink?” Her roommate giggled, her bleary eyes darting to somewhere behind her. She peered over her shoulder to see what she could be looking at, and her gaze fell upon another drunk boy talking with his friends, sneaking glances over to where she and her roommate stood. 

 Thankfully, it meant she wouldn’t be held up for much longer. 

 “No, it’s just.. it’s hot in here, you know?” She said in a somewhat nervous chuckle. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, she was an adult now for goodness sake, why did she still act like a fibbing middle schooler? “I’ll be back in a minute once I’ve cooled off.”

 Her roommate didn’t seem to care much as she walked away, past the boy she was making ‘I want to fuck you’ eyes to, through the crowd of numb-minded students, and out the first door she could get to. 

 She found herself standing in the hallway, the music inside the apartment now muffled but still booming through the walls. She wondered how a party of this size was allowed in a building like this, but then she remembered that it was college, and New York, for that matter. 

 She walked down the hallway towards the stairs, and she glanced up at the stairwell as she stepped inside. She climbed the few flights leading up to the roof and pushed her way through the door, the wind and Brooklyn’s chilly night air hitting her all at once, and she shivered, balling the sleeves of her sweater in her fists. 

 It was quieter up here than it was at the party, but when she reached the edge of the roof and sat herself down, swinging her legs over the side of the building, she found that the life below was just as alive. The streets below were bustling with people— college students, parents, elderly people. It may have been close to midnight but still, the city stayed awake, refusing to sleep. 

 The lights of the city winked and gleamed brilliantly in the distance, and she could hear the far away sounds of sirens. Even late at night, people couldn’t help but get themselves into trouble. 

 She swung her feet in circles, gazing down at the ground below. Even from up here, she still felt the life of the party a few stories below, whatever trendy new pop song that was playing now making the entire building quake. It just reminded her of how alone she was— literally and figuratively. 

 She didn’t mind so much now that there was no one around to judge her, she preferred to be with herself anyways. 

 She turned to look over her shoulder at the roof behind her, her gaze falling upon something she hadn’t noticed before. An eyebrow raised to her hairline and out of curiosity, she spun herself around, her palms flat against the stone to push herself back onto her feet. Slowly, she made her way over to what she had seen, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes to get a better look. 

 It was very dark. 

 It was a backpack— who would leave a backpack sitting around on rooftops in New York? She bent down to pick it up and felt around her back pocket for her phone, fishing it out and using the illuminated screen to search for a name, a number, an address, anything. 

 Nothing. 

 Of course, she could easily unzip the backpack and feel around its contents to search for some sort of identification, but she wouldn’t have felt right looking through someone’s belongings. 

 She was saved from doing so by a swishing noise that immediately caught her attention, and she snapped her head around to the source of it, seeing nothing but darkness again. Goosebumps littered her skin, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from unsettlement. 

 Out of pure instinct, she backed away from where she had found the backpack, her nails digging into its fabric as she crouched again just as she could hear another swishing sound, and a figure appeared on the roof. She blinked. Where did this person come from?

 Whoever it was was silent as they approached the place the backpack had been just moments before, and her muscles tensed at the realization that she was still holding the backpack, her fingernails clutching it so hard she wondered if they had bent by now. 

 “…backpack?” She could hear the person say and she watched as they turned in circles, scanning the area for said backpack. This was also when she noticed that the person— a man, judging from the voice— was wearing a spandex suit. 

 A very familiar spandex suit she’d seen many times on the news before. 

 “Goddammit,” the man cursed, his hands reaching up to either side of his head, quickly deciding they’d rather rest on his hips instead. He turned around again, another curse emitting from behind his mask, a little more loudly this time. 

 She had just revealed herself from her hiding place just as the man ripped the mask from his head, dark and messy hair erecting from his head at once. 

 She gasped and clutched the backpack tighter, recoiling when he turned to face her, his eyes wide and his lips agape. For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other, neither seemingly able to move or speak. 

 Eventually, she blinked down at the bag in her hands, both of her arms shaking as she held it out towards him. “I.. uh.. think this is yours?” She grimaced. Her voice was shaky. 

 The man made no moves to move right at first, seemingly still in shock that she was even here, that she could see his face. They were one in the same in that regard. 

 “I.. uh,” he finally said, and as he carefully approached, his features slowly came into view. He had a handsome face, one she couldn’t quite tell if she’d seen around before, and his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. They, too, were brown like his hair, irises so dark that they almost matched the pupils in the middle. “Thank you,” he spoke, gently accepting his backpack that she had been clutching tightly up until that point. Her hands felt freer now that they weren’t holding the bag, although now she struggled to find something for them to do. 

 She eyed his body up and down, slowly, taking in his attire. She could just make out the black web patterns across his chest, a spider in the middle. He still eyed her carefully, unsure of what to make of her. She flushed beneath his gaze. 

 “I swear I wasn’t trying to steal it or anything,” she rushed out, her skin feeling hotter than ever as she squinted her lids shut. Now was not the time to let her nerves get the better of her. “I just found it and I was trying to see if there was a name or something on it and then you came and..” she paused, half for breath, half out of disbelief. She gazed into his eyes and then let her sight fall back down to his body. “You… you’re Spider-Man?”

 She almost immediately regretted it after she said it. He scrunched his face and peeled a single eyelid open, gripping his backpack in one hand as he made a jazz hands gesture, as if to say ‘surprise!’ “It’s me…” he trailed off, a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment in his tone. 

 She blinked. She wasn’t sure what to say. 

 Her gaze averted to the place on the roof she had first seen him at. She pointed to it, “you just swung onto the roof.” He nodded, his arms falling limp in front of him, tapping his fingers against his backpack. “Yep…” he said, still uncertain. “Listen, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go off telling everyone who I am like.. under the mask,” he continued, and she quickly shook her head. 

 “No, of course not,” her words tumbled from her lips. “It’s not like I even know who you are anyway… couldn’t find a name on the backpack…” she muttered the last part, thinking aloud. The man cocked an eyebrow at this, “you don’t know who I am?”

 She tilted her head at this, “am I supposed to know who you are?”

 He blinked. “You go to this college right?”

 “Yes?”

 He still looked confused. She must have too. So it was possible she had seen this man before? Did he go to this college too? Spider-Man went to the same college she did?

 “Huh,” he nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He walked away, over to where she had just been sitting with her legs hanging over the edge, and he mimicked this. She raised an eyebrow in question and made her way over to where he sat, making sure there was distance between them as she sat down. “What does that mean?” She asked, and he turned to look at her, tilting his head. 

 “What does what mean?”

 “‘Huh.’”

 “Huh?”

 “Yes, you said huh just now when I said I went here.”

 He finally seemed to understand and his lips curved as he emitted a small, nervous laugh. “Oh, I just..” he trailed off, looking over at her and shaking his head, his gaze averting to the ground below. “I just thought you would know who I am, is all.”

 She found herself feeling bad, but it was a big college after all. She couldn’t know everybody. 

 “Well, do you know me?” She questioned, and he glanced back up at her. 

 He shook his head. “No.”

 Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips. “Then how can you expect me to know who you are?”

 “I didn’t expect you to, I just thought you would.”

 She rolled her eyes at this and turned to stare absentmindedly at the city on the horizon ahead, but couldn’t suppress the urge to laugh. She tilted her head and turned it when she heard him laugh too. 

 He had a pretty smile, she couldn’t help but think. Almost too pretty, annoyingly pretty. She could see him in better light now, thanks to the lights on the edge of the building. His hand moved to his hair, his fingers weaving through the umber tresses in an attempt to tame them. A silence ensued between them, but then he looked back over at her. 

 “So, why aren’t you down at the party?” He asked, gesturing with his eyes down below. It was then that she was reminded that there was a party, that she was there not that long ago, one of the bodies in the sea of tipsy dancing and drunken hollering. She shrugged, “realized it wasn’t my type of thing after all.”

 “Hm,” he nodded, turning to look ahead. “Were you on your way there?” She asked, and he nodded again, to which she recoiled. “Oh, then don’t keep me holding you up,” she waved him off. “You go have fun. I’m sure you were looking forward to it after..” she trailed off, gazing back down to his Spider-Man suit. “..after whatever you were doing.”

 He laughed again and shook his head, their eyes meeting when he turned back to face her. “Nah, don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “I think I prefer being up here anyways.”

 She was sure it wasn’t intended to be flirtatious, but she still couldn’t help but flush, feeling heat creep up her neck. She turned back towards the city in the horizon, its lights still shining brightly, polluting the night sky. The city was still awake and bustling with all sorts of noise, but it somehow felt quieter than before. 

 “So… why go to a party if it isn’t your thing?” He asked, breaking the silence. She glanced over to where he sat, now leaning back and resting on his elbows. His focus was now on her, and she self-consciously tucked her hair back behind her ear, unable to meet his gaze as she searched her brain for an answer. 

 “I don’t know. My roommate wanted me to go but she ended up leaving me pretty much as soon as we got there,” she shrugged. “I didn’t want to drink but it seemed like that was all there was to do there.”

 “Aw, come on, you’re not a drinker?” He teased, but at first, her chest tightened and she thought he was being serious. The heat from her neck crept up to her cheeks as she turned away, her shoulders hunching forward as if she were closing in on herself like an armadillo. “Hey, I’m joking,” he laughed, giving her arm a playful punch. She could feel her muscles relax again at the sound of his laughter and she looked back over at him, her smile returned to her face. 

 How could she be so stupid?

 “Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m not good at communication. Or taking jokes.”

 He pressed his lips together, and his expression softened. His smile looked sweeter this way. “That’s cool,” he nodded. “I’m not either.”

 She rolled her eyes at this. “Oh come on, Spider-Man,” she was surprised at the teasing lilt in her own voice. “You’re like everybody’s favorite hero. Surely you’re better at human interaction than I am.”

 He chuckled and turned to rest on the elbow closest to her, his other hand fiddling his other one. He stared at his hands for a moment, as if he found comfort in watching them. “Maybe as Spider-Man, yeah,” he tittered. “But not as Peter Parker.”

 She tilted her head. “Is that your name?” She asked, and he nodded. 

 Peter Parker. 

 Peter Parker. 

 Peter Parker. 

 “Peter Parker,” she just had to test the name out on her own tongue. “S’ got a nice ring to it.” His smile widened. 

 “Well, now you have to tell me your name,” he snickered. “It’s only fair.”

 Her laugh came out like a breath. “I suppose.”

 So she gave him her name, first and last. He said her name once, and then he said it again, and again, and again, each time in a different tone. She chuckled at this, and she swung her legs back from over the side of the building, sitting criss-crossed in front of him. “Why do you keep saying it?” She questioned with a laugh, and he beamed. 

 “I wanted to test out saying your name in different situations,” he spoke matter-of-factly. “For instance, here’s me saying it when I’m sad.” He said her name with a pout, his eyebrows raised as he gave puppy dog eyes. She threw her head back as she laughed, mostly as an excuse to look away. 

 She’d known him for less than twenty minutes but he was already adorable. 

 “When I’m mad.” He tried faking anger, but it just looked so wrong on him, she could feel more laughter bubbling up in her chest, and she rushed her hand to her lips as she tried to contain it. He raised an eyebrow at this. “What?” 

 She shook her head, her hand closing tighter around her mouth. “You think I’m being funny, do you?” He asked, and she shook her head, and although her hand was covering her smile, she was sure her eyes were crinkling to give her away. 

 “Hey. I’ll have you know that I am very scary when I’m mad,” he stuck his nose in the air. “You’re lucky you haven’t seen my bad side yet.”

 Her chest stuttered as she tried to swallow her laugh, her hand falling from her face and resting back down at her side. 

 “Oh yeah?” 

 “Yes. You should fear me.”

 “Oh god. I’m practically pissing my pants already.”

 He pressed his lips together, his cheeks puffing outwards before his shoulders began to shake, and he dropped his head, unable to hold back his laughter any longer. She joined along and soon, neither one of them could stop it. 

 She had tears in her eyes when their laughter finally died down, and she flicked droplets away from her eyelashes, blinking the rest away. When they were both quiet, she turned to look at him again. He was looking down at his hands again, his smile still on his face but somehow fainter than before. 

 “So, what were you doing before this?” She questioned, and he peered up at her, letting his gaze linger on hers for a few moments before he looked back down. “I was, uh, just downtown. There was an ATM robbery so I went and dealt with that,” he scratched his head. ATM robbery. She wondered if that was where the sirens she had heard earlier were heading to. 

 “Did you catch them?”

 “Huh?”

 “The robbers.”

 “Oh,” he nodded with a small smile. “Yeah.”

 She took the time to take a closer look at Peter, and just before he bowed his head towards his hands again, she caught a glimpse of his eyes and saw something she hadn’t seen before. They were dark, like she’d gathered earlier, and they did in fact glisten in the light. But there was something else in them, something murky, and it felt like standing in a swamp, trying to trudge through the thick waters. There was something sad about him, something there she hadn’t quite discovered yet. 

 Of course, they had only met about twenty minutes ago. 

 People were like books, after all, their minds and their hearts were their own personal bible. It could take days to figure somebody out, weeks, months, years. It simply wouldn’t feel right to ask him something so personal now when they had just met. 

 But she knew there was something he wasn’t telling her, about the ATM robbery, at least. And she wanted to know. 

 “But there’s more to it, isn’t there?” She asked, and Peter, with his eyebrows knit together, glanced up at her. For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, almost in a stand-offish type of way. Her heart began to pound in her chest and she could hear her heartbeat drumming in her ears. It was as if in that one single glance, they were trying to figure each other out, or at least in Peter’s case, try to figure out if she could be trusted or not. 

 His expression softened. He had no reason not to. Plus, they may have only met half an hour ago, but there was already something about her. Something about her made him feel like they already had an understanding of each other, as if their minds were already on the same wavelength. 

 So, he drew air into his lungs, and spoke. 

 “No, there was… there was something else,” he began, looking back down at his hands. She pressed her lips together, eyes choosing one spot on his face to look to assure him that she was listening. She chose to stare at the side of his nose. “An innocent person got hurt tonight.”

 Her vision averted to her lap, and her fingers began to toy at her shoelaces. 

 “What do you mean by hurt? How hurt?”

 “A man got shot. I saw it happen,” he continued, and he swallowed the lump in his throat rubbing it raw. “I couldn’t save him.”

 She could tell by his words and his tone that this man, this poor, innocent man, had died. 

 She shifted where she sat and gazed back up at him, trying to meet his eyes again. Peter blinked and scratched his scalp. She remained silent, allowing him to speak freely and openly. “He wasn’t even involved or anything,” he said, and he glared down at his knuckles, wrapped in the same spandex his suit was made of. “He was across the street, probably just trying to get home, you know? And they just shot him.”

 She grimaced at this and hunched over, resting an elbow on one of her knees, resting her chin on her palm. “Jesus, Peter, I’m sorry,” she murmured, and she meant it. Peter outstretched his fingers and gazed down at them, his eyes tracing the black lines on them. 

 “And it just… god it sucks because I put on this suit thinking about him, I mean, I made it because of him, really,” Peter continued, but she no longer understood what he was talking about. “And now I just feel like I’ve failed him all over again.”

 She blinked. She got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the innocent man from the ATM robbery anymore. She didn’t ask him about it. He’d talk about it on his own accord if he really wanted to. 

 He glanced up at her where she sat, staring at him with a sad look. It was funny, how she didn’t understand but understood all the same. It was funny how he felt so comfortable around this girl he just met. It was funny how easy it was to talk to her. It was funny how she listened, how he talked and how she let him talk. It was funny that he wished he had met her sooner. 

 “Sorry,” he tittered, but she shook her head. “No, don’t apologize,” she whispered, but she was unsure why she was whispering. Peter looked up and their eyes met again, and she thought it was funny how much she already cared for him. “Never apologize,” she added. 

 The breeze picked up and she shivered, but she still felt warm all the same. “You know, I used to be scared of the idea of college,” she said, and he stared at her, watched the way her hair framed her face, at the line between her lips, watching the way her smile dropped but was still somewhat there. “I was scared of the people. Of the work. Of the professors. Of everything,” she continued. “I think I still am.”

 She sighed and he watched as her hands grabbed her legs as she leaned back, stretching out her back. “And when I was in high school, I didn’t talk to anyone about it. In fact, I hardly talked at all,” she said. “Because even then, I was scared of people. And of everything.”

 She paused and pursed her lips, searching the bit of floor between them. “I was scared to go to this party tonight too,” she couldn’t help but laugh at herself. This was the first time she’d ever admitted just how scared she was, and it was frightening. But when she looked at Peter, she couldn’t help but feel like it was exciting all the same. “But I did. I went and then I met you.”

 She could see the moment Peter’s eyes softened and she found that she wanted them to be closer, to be as close as possible. “So, it makes me wonder, if this is a beginning,” she murmured, and it occurred to her that Peter wanted what she wanted just the same. He seemed to be closer now than he was before. She didn’t notice when he pushed himself off of his elbow so that now they were on the same eye level. “For both of us.”

 He blinked, and his gaze flickered down from her eyes to her lips. It felt crazy, it was crazy. They just met after all.

 She watched as her name tumbled from his lips, and that was when her heart began to beat even faster, harder than it had before. 

 “Yes?”

 “Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?” He asked, and she could feel the way her arms began to shake. Did he seem even closer now than he was before? 

 “I believe that there are reasons we do the things we do,” she whispered. “Even if we don’t know what those reasons are.”

 He nodded, his eyes flicking down to her lips again. 

 “Yeah,” he murmured breathlessly, and soon, his lips were on hers. 

 It should’ve felt strange, kissing someone she just met. It should feel wrong, gross, humiliating. 

 But it felt everything but. 

 She couldn’t remember the last time she kissed somebody, it must’ve been years ago when she kissed a boy because she was scared of what would happen if she didn’t. She didn’t want to kiss that boy then, so it was different now. 

 Because she definitely wanted to kiss Peter now.

 One of his hands reached to cup her cheek, his palm warm against her skin. His tongue brushed hers, silently asking permission for more, a request in which she granted. Their tongues were like figure skaters, quickly getting into a routine of circling around each other, softly touching. Their kiss was slow, but she saw no reason to rush. They had the whole night ahead of them, and who could have stopped them now?

 They were closer than ever now, giving her the chance to smell him. She could definitely smell sweat, no doubt from what he had just described to her earlier, and of soot and gunpowder. But somewhere in between, she could smell the faint scent of cedar wood, perhaps even a hint of vanilla. It was such a simple smell but still, somehow, undeniably and exclusively him. 

 When they pulled away, it was only to catch their breaths. Peter’s hand remained on her face and she stared into his dark eyes as he, too, stared at her, his lips slightly parted as he chased air back into his lungs. His forehead was resting against hers, his breath hot as it mixed with hers, fanning over either of their faces. 

 For a while, they were silent. All they could do was stare at each other. Years ago, she would’ve been intimidated by something like this, by just the idea of something like this. 

 But now, all she felt was excitement. 

 White hot excitement. 

 “What do we do now?” She asked, and he shook his head, his lips curved up into a soft smile. 

 “I don’t know,” he replied. She pursed her lips. 

 “I don’t want to go home.”

 He shook his head. “Me neither.”

 Her gaze seemed to melt into his, and all she could think was how much she wanted to kiss Peter Parker again. So she did. Her lips snatched his up again in a warm, fierce kiss, kissing him with more fervor than the last. She reached up to wrap her fingers around his wrist, the one connected to the hand still cupping her cheek. Her other hand rested on the back of his neck as they surged into one another, wanting to take this moment and stretch it out, to make it last forever. 

 Peter pulled away and kissed her again, and then he pulled away and trailed his kisses down to her jaw, and she threw her head back, her lips falling agape. Noises she had never heard come out of herself before slipped from her lips, and she held onto him tighter, grinding her hips forward to find him. His hand not on her face smoothed down the side of her body and rested on her hip as he kissed her neck, his tongue licking a sensitive spot there, and she mewled, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. 

 Peter pulled away again and stared up at her, a questioning look in his tender gaze. He shook his head, “we don’t have to do anything, you know,” he said, his chest heaving, out of breath. “We can wait.”

 We can wait. 

 But then she thought, why wait when they had right now?

 So she kissed him again as an answer, and he began to tug at his suit, and she pulled away, suppressing the urge to laugh as he struggled to tug the spandex off of him, at least get it down to his thighs. She helped him, her laughter dissolving in her throat when he finally got it down past his knees, unsure whether she should look away or not when his cock sprang free. 

 She was saved by Peter smashing his lips back into hers, his palms smooth against her skin as they snaked their way beneath her sweater and her bra and she moaned into his mouth when he grabbed her breasts. His skin was by no means completely smooth and baby soft, he had calluses on his palms that felt so much better against her nipples, and she threw her head back as he kissed her neck again. His lips eventually came down to her breasts and he gave one of her erect buds a kiss before sucking on it, letting go of it with a wet pop. He did the same with the other, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. 

 His fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans, and she helped him by kicking them off of her legs, letting him touch her over her underwear in the meantime. 

 She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched like this. 

 It was sooner than the last time she’d just been kissed, in fact, it was only a few months ago at another party her roommate had dragged her to. She remembered being led to a bedroom by some guy she had been chatting to for about the same amount of time she and Peter had talked, and she convinced herself that she had wanted it. 

 How wrong she had been. 

 It was different now, with Peter. She found herself wanting it, even close to begging for it. She found every moment he spent not touching her under her panties excruciating, and when he finally did tug her underwear off of her legs and his fingers soothed over the wet, aching bud, she made noises she never made before. 

 She threw her head back and tried to stifle her cries as he tested the waters, rubbing her throbbing clit over and over again. He even dipped to get a feel of her slit, rubbing over her entrance where his cock ached to be. 

 When she looked back at him, she found that he was already staring at her. It seemed his offer from earlier still stood. 

 We don’t have to do this. We can wait. 

 She was tired of waiting. She was tired of being scared. 

 “Please Peter,” she whispered breathlessly. “Please take me.”

 Peter’s bottom lip wobbled tenderly as he guided her onto his lap and he helped her sink down onto his cock, the pleasure he felt from being squeezed so tight making his toes curl. He watched as the girl above him threw her head back again and her hands slithered around to cup the back of his neck. He watched as her breasts bounced as she ground her hips into him. Peter didn’t move, simply let her ride at whatever pace she desired. His palm pressed against the small of her back, his lips every once and a while pressing soft kisses onto her chest. 

 When she looked back down at him, he smiled. 

 “You’re doing so good,” he murmured. “You feel so good.”

 She didn’t know those words would feel so good, especially coming from him. She was doing good, she felt so good. 

 She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d done any good for anybody. 

 But she was good enough for Peter. And right now, that was all that mattered to her. 

 “Oh, Peter,” she gasped as she ground her hips a little harder, feeling herself squeeze him a little tighter than before. He groaned when she did this, burying his face in the valley between her breasts. “I think… I think I’m gonna come soon.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Mhm.”

 Peter nodded and tried to focus on breathing as she bounced, and he rocked his hips up into her, chasing his own high now. “Yeah. Yeah, me too,” he groaned, and his hand not on the small of her back reached up to cradle the back of her head, and she leaned down, letting her forehead fall down onto his. “We’re going to come together, okay?” He barely managed out, and she barely managed to hear it. But she nodded, the words finally wrapping around her brain. 

 “Yes. Yes.”

 She moved her hips a little harder, a little faster than before. He nodded against her head, and that was when she let herself go, when she gave herself to him, when he gave himself to her. 

 Their sweat-slicked chests heaved against one another. 

 It was strange. Don’t people who fuck after knowing each other as long as they have usually recoil and feel some sort of humiliation at what they had just done, and leave and act like nothing ever happened between them?

 It was strange because it was the exact opposite. 

 She held Peter tighter, his face pressed into her chest. All they could do was hold each other, because neither of them wanted to let go. But when they did eventually pull away, they smiled at one another. 

 “What was that thing you said earlier?” Peter asked. She tilted her head. 

 “About what?”

 “About beginnings?”

 Her smile widened until her teeth unveiled themselves behind her lips. 

 “New beginnings, huh?”

 Peter laughed. “New beginnings.”

a/n; i literally sat down for three hours straight and did nothing but write. i don’t know how this idea came to my head or what drove me to write it, but i think this is the most proud i’ve been of one of my writings in a very long time. i certainly hope you all enjoy and i thank you if you’ve read from start to finish. <3

[mushroom-for-art]

@seasidemew lmao hi I'm bullying ur boy, hope you enjoy

Actions and consequences

Syn turned on his feet as his head craned to look around and admire the vast expanse of the training room, it was large though a bit dull, the floorings and walls and even the ceiling were squared evenly.

"I, expected a bit more than just a room?" He queried glancing at May who shrugged back to him.

"It can be anything anyone wants it's just currently being left as a room," She leant her body backwards avoiding a stray scrap of rock that sank into the flooring by a few inches, there was a loud crash of energy followed by a distressingly loud reverb that shook and vibrated through their bodies, May had to adjust to not be swept over by the sheer force of the energy outburst.

Dark energy collided with bright purples as Darkness and Axel violently physically clashed together, their shoulders ramming into the other with bangs of energy being released by each collision before they rapidly split and repeated. Syn blinked, watching the sheer abundance of energy being released along with all the stray attacks going wild as the two Mewtwo fought trying to defeat the other, his tongue licked his inner lip.

"My, so much power.. What are they fighting over?"

"They're trying to work out who's strongest, Darkness made herself by all means perfect and enhanced herself with synergy crystals as you know while Axel is the first Mewtwo of our world and the beginning of our bloodline so is I suppose he's Darkness' potential in its purest rawest form, no dna damage through cloning or anything, sooo they're duking it out."

Syn hummed watching the fight, not entirely sure who was winning. Sensing more he glanced to the side spotting a familiar red pink hue on a mega Y form mewtwo, they were flying around showing off with tricks away from the fight with arms made of pure stable psychic energy.

"Hey look Auntie Imp I got it!" Syn heard and watched the mega twirl before seeming to teleport with rapid jumps of speed, a mewtwo he'd never seen before sat watching Matt in his foolishness, he watched her clap her hands thin delicate tail swaying as she spoke praises.

"She's not your aunt, there's no genetic relation between you!" Axel hollered in his fight, sending a kick into Darkness' face.

"Fuck youuu an auntie is something spiritual not necessarily related!!" Matt hollered back as he sped jumped about before hitting a wall and hitting the floor with a thud and losing the mega form. Syn couldn't help a slight chuckle as his eyes roamed the unfamiliar two before returning to the active fight at the horrid crunching as Darkness was send slamming into the floor with Axels standing on her back to do so making her body scrape the floor and crunch harder as his weight and psychic force crushed her down.

"Just submit." He pushed down on her harder making something else crunch, Darkness' hands clenched into fists shaking with rage and pain.

"how about," Darkness' hands unclenched resting on the floor of the arena, "NO!" stones erupted from the floor spiking jagged and fast, blood spilt onto her back from Axels side as he shot upwards missing the worst of it but bleeding. With noticeable effort Darkness pulled herself out from the crater made from her impact before shooting after Axel to resume fighting. Syn let out a low whistle as the floor shimmered and returned to its original state.

"You weren't kidding..they're going at it…" Despite not having a need for it he wondered how Axels life would taste, how much energy and power he could rip from his chest. Part gluttony part jealousy as he watched the large two, he moved surprisingly quickly for his size and with surprising agility and flexibility. As Syns' eyes followed trained on Axel he noticed he had a slightly different flying style. It was hard to explain, he moved more effortlessly like he was lighter.

"So, he's like your dad then?" He inquired casually glancing at May for a second before returning to the fight. "I can't see a resemblance."

"Ehhh, I'm like 5 generations down from him lots of dna damage from like being a clone of a clone etcetera so lots of differences have arisen since him to make me how I am, Darkness and Matt are 6 generations down from him," She paused to think counting on her fingers quietly, "I, don't know for sure but I never really saw or heard whisper of my like direct dna parent, I don't think they made it to be honest they just had their dna, maybe stem or sex cells or both or whatever not sure I'm not a scientists but they had stuff taken from them to make me, and well the others that didn't make it…" she quietly shook her head flinching her shoulders at a loud sharp bang of lightning, "Dusty is actually only 3 generations down from him, he's similar to Axel purple and all, his dna wasn't immediately used preserved and made later so technically he's genetically older than us but he's younger. I think he's the only one living from further back in our bloodline, I think the others were terminated or just didn't survive." She watched the fight with quiet concern that they might be going too far with this battle.

"I think someone should stop them.." Syn put out a hand to stop her moving.

"Not letting that someone be you, they're both too high on aggression right now, if someone were to get between them now I think they'd attack them blindly. So no you're not pulling some self sacrificing someone's gotta stop this fighting nonsense because you'll get hurt and then they'll get mad at you for interrupting and getting hurt." May huffed hot air at Syn in mock frustration as she pulled a face making him chuckle. His finger booped her nose softly. "Am I right princess pout or am I right?" May let out a sudden exhale of a laugh.

"Princess pout? I ain't pouting!" She laughed giving him a look that melted into a smile, "but, you're right yea they'd be mad I didn't let them figure it out." Syn chuckled casually wrapping an arm around her shoulders pulling her in to give her a squeeze.

"See I'm learning, getting you all figured out. I'll be able to worm my way into your heart in no time." He casually joked as he felt her leaning against him more.

"Nah you've already done that, and unfortunately for you you can't take this knowledge into different worlds you have to learn it all organically there yourself." Syn snorted and snapped his fingers.

"Damn," and provided a soft shoulder squeeze in play and held May closer at another loud crashing. Looking back to the fight Axel had Darkness rammed into the wall and was flying along keeping her shoved into the barrier at rapid speeds leaving a trench in the foundations till they fixed themselves bits of rubble flying around for emphasis before he made a beeline down still dragging Darkness through the wall essentially before slamming her once more into the floor with enough force to send up a plume of white smoke dust and bits of brick.

Axel landed waiting for the dust to clear before slowly approaching where Darkness lay crumbled.

"Do you yield." Darkness whimpered in response before trying to shove herself back up on trembling limbs. Axel grabbed the middle section of her tail turning on his feet and swinging to slam her back into the wall with a cry of pain before she slid down the wall.

"Do you yield."

Again Darkness did not answer palms pressing down on the rocks strewn about trying to once more press on to fight further. Axel stood on the side of her neck and pushed down with force enough that May and Syn felt the breeze.

"Yield."

Darkness opened her eye around the bruising giving him a defiant glare before her eye looked away closing again.

"I yield.." The words reluctantly left her mouth feeling like poison on her tongue as Axel stepped off her neck, he wrapped one arm around and under the middle of her body carrying her dangling limp form. Syn watched like a hawk as Axel put Darkness down near the other Mewtwo, Imp was it? And Matt, with Imp moving to use some healing moves. Syn tried to wrack his brains as he watched, he couldn't recall a proper full fight with Darkness, usually she avoided conflict, cheated or deferred..

Face pulling into a confident smirk his arm slipped from Mays shoulders as he strode over casually. May blinked in confusion before quickly following.

"What are you doing Syn, what are you thinking?" She already got the horrible feeling he was going to do something stupid. And when he turned to offer her a cocky grin her worries were further confirmed.

Axel regarded them both with his eyes regarding Syn with displeasure and giving May a similar look.

"That was an impressive battle," Syn spoke with sure of himself confidence, "if you're up to the challenge old man I'd like to spar with you." Axel regarded him again his side already healed and bruises and scrapes disappearing with each second, his eyes scanned down at Syn taking in his features lingering on the stone before looking at his face again.

"And why would I waste my time on that." His tone was flat and uninteresting and Syn swallowed awkwardly, having expected him to jump to the challenge.

"Well, we're both powerful individuals, why not settle who's strongest. You've won in your family but what of strangers hmm?" Syn tried to save the conversation. Axel only continued to gaze upon him with disinterest. With a slow thoughtful blink he spoke.

"Fine, but if I win this match you leave here forever gone bye bye." May watched Axel her mouth pulling to the side knowing he didn't have the power or capability to simply make Syn leave permanently as that decision was out of his hands controlled by a higher power. Axel extended his hand to shake on the bet. Syn considered before grinning.

"Alright, but if I win you join me in my corruption accepting a shard of my crystal and submitting beneath me." Mays brows fell into an unamused look as she glanced between the two idiots knowing once more he did not have the power to cause such an event and that just because he corrupted someone it didn't mean they'd submit. She exhaled a sigh through her nose watching the two men eyeing each other up making a bet neither could keep as Syn took Axels hand giving it a firm shake to cement the deal.

Axels grip did not release as Syn attempted to pull his hand back from the shake, Syn didn't have time to react as Axels grip turned tight and vice like and in a mere blink Axel adjusted his feet throwing Syn up over his head using psychic energy for lifting before slamming him down harshly into the floor with the psychic energy also dragging him down creating an immediate mini crater and gust of displaced air.

Syn groaned quietly, wrinkling his face as he opened his eyes to snarl at Axel before all he could feel was pain. Crackling sprawling crawling green energy shot through Axels hand directly into Syns, the erratic green sparks covering his body fully ripping through his skin easily tearing him open all over, he felt like he was being bitten into and chewed and eaten alive, as his energy was rapidly drained. He was bordering on unconscious when he finally registered that the attack pain had stopped, his body burned and itched and ached all over though, fizzles and smoke raised off his body as Axel let go of his hand causing his body to slump, no longer held up.

"Sorry Pretty boy. You lose." From the sidelines Matt blinked muttering to himself 'oh I see where I get it from then.'

"Axel you fucking cheated!" Mays voice was a thundering uproar, her tone raw with anger and displeasure.

"We made our bet, shook on it and the battle started. He should've been more prepared." Axel didn't look at her as she rushed to Syns side softer glistening green energy leaving her hands to start healing his many wounds and recuperate his health.

"You know damn well that is not how a mutually agreed sparring match goes! It'd start when someone announced the battle begins, what you did was tricksy and cowardly!"

Axel scoffed, "it doesn't matter anyways, we had a fight he lost so now he has to leave, I'm sure you'll find someone in equally bad taste to disappoint me with later."

"What. You think I care about Syn out of pettiness towards you?!" her tone was a snarl as Syn stabilized his wounds fully healed, she gently caressed his cheek before standing, "I care about him for a multitude of reasons but not FUCKING one of them has anything to do with you. But you know what?! All or nothing, if you win I'll never interact with him ever again."

Axel turned his head to regard May standing in all her 5'4 fury with an expression that showed he didn't take if seriously.

"Oh? Alright then, and what if you win by some miracle huh? What do you get out of this battle, or has little May not thought about that because she doesn't think ahead about these things when it involves something for herself because she's full of self loathing hmm?" his tone was casual and mocking, as May met his gaze with steely cold glare.

"I see where Matt gets it from then." Axel smirked with an exhale of a chuckle as he looked down on her offering his hand out to shake with such unwavering confidence and smugness as though expecting her to take it despite witnessing the trick he pulled on Syn as though expecting her to be that stupid and trusting.

May slapped away his hand with the back of hers as her other fist sporting a darkened shadow claw punched straight into the soft flesh of his stomach, he barely managed a grunt before the shadow energy exploded out across his whole body like lightning and he screamed.

Shadows ripped through his muscles into his bones causing breaks and tears, sapping his life energy as it rapidly damaged him all over his flesh being seared by zigzagging shadows and losing pigmentation as his physical form and structure began to distort in its destruction. And all he could do was scream.

May pulled her claw slick with his blood out from his body not regarding him as he collapsed simply flicking his blood away as her claw vanished moving instead to Syn who was seeming a bit more conscious. She gently pulled his arms to pull him into a sit and using his arm she adjusted pulling him up onto her shoulders like a fireman carry as he made a soft gasp and disorientated giggle at being lifted and carried.

"I'm going to get Syn seen too." As she turned and left impressively carrying the still slightly limp Syn who clumsily attempted to wrap his arms around her to hold on his tail curling around her waist as he made vocalizations and purrs. Darkness looked at the mess that was Axel on the floor, breathing but barely and was glad in this place death wasn't truly possible and that he'd recover.

"Get dunked onnn!" Matt made a hand gesture as though dunking a basketball one handed.

"Matt you're fucking 5 stop making undertale references."

Imp blinked as the siblings argued, 'It's a classic!', 'it's inappropriate!' Moving to help Axel where he lay on the floor looking mighty sorry for himself.

[cloudninetonine]

A past that still haunts me

A/N: Hey guys, it's me (ya boi) I'm back with my still current hyper fixation Genshin Impact and a vent fic because I've been really stressed and well, it's hard living in my house :) It's a hurt/comfort fic because they always get to me and I needed to make something for myself

I am willing to do aftermath where the boys confront the abuser or do scenario but with different characters

Synopsis: You’re not a damsel in distress, you never have been and you never will be, but, well, sometimes you need a hero to rely on and that’s okay

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli and Childe

Warnings: Hints to past abuse, confrontation of abuser, violence, mentions of blood, threats, foul language

It had meant to be like any other menial day of an adventurer: sign in with Katheryne, complete your commissions, sign out with Katheryne with your payments - done and dusted.

But that wasn’t how it went, no, far from it - archons, so damn far from it.

“Thank you once again, (Name)” Katheryne’s smile was kind like usual, holding that familiar feeling of gratitude as she handed over your remission within a marked package, hand returning to the desk’s polished surface once you had taken it graciously, sending her a beaming grin back. “The Guild really appreciates your work ethic when it comes to the Ruin machines, it’s hard to come across adventurers who want to handle them anymore”

You sent her a shrug as you placed away the box “Can’t blame them really, they’re a hard bunch to handle- I was terrified of them when I first started too, but I had my vision to help me out, a lot of these folk only use there pure determination to eradicate them, gotta admire that!”

She laughed along with you politely “Have a good evening, (Name), I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

“Of course you will!” You backpedalled away from the guild reception, throwing the woman a polite double fingered salute as you did “Ad astra abyssoque as they say, my fair lady!”

She parrotted back her usual phrase before disappearing into the building, you walking further down the path of the city for your final activity for that day.

Of course, you didn’t reach that far, after all, it wasn’t that menial day you had expected, that you had wanted. Life was cruel sometimes, so incredibly cruel for no justified reason just for the sake of it all and you wished, archons, you wished you could rewind the clock and stop yourself from bumping into the body, to save yourself from all the repressed trauma bursting forth like a flurry of butterflies, well, more like moths, disgusting, ungodly, monster moths that aimed straight for the face.

“Sorry!” You yelped, too preoccupied with gathering your pocketwatch you had dropped in the stumble to see who it had been, after all, you were on a schedule and you didn’t want to be-

“(Name)?”

...late.

All of a sudden, time didn’t seem to exist, or maybe it was moving way too slowly from that horrid spike of adrenaline that shot into your bloodstream as soon as the voice registered.

You hoped to the Archons that it wasn’t, that it couldn’t, but did the gods hear your prayers?

“Oh Archons, it is you! It’s been such a long time!”

Of course, they did, they just didn’t care to listen. Ignoring the cries of your people were in fashion to them these days.

They stood there with a smile so excited it almost seemed to tear their face in half, with eyes sparkling with recognition after so many years away from them, they opened their arms welcoming you into their embrace like it was something just so normal for the two of you like you would come bounding to them like a lost puppy who had finally found their master.

The fear of your abuser dwarfed in comparison the pure feral rage and loathing to think that they even deserved to be breathing in the same space as you.

People were looking, of course, they were looking, you knew what they were doing, being bright and jovial, bringing others attention towards you both so that whatever scene you caused would be your fault like you were the bad guy. It was old tactics, of course, you wouldn’t dare do anything when you were younger, you’d just push through it, but this wasn’t old times, this wasn’t younger you, scared, smaller you afraid them, this was you now, a warrior, unwavering in battle, a person who smiled in the face of danger, who laughed at the pitiful fights that 2- no- 4 abyss mages brought to you!

To hell what other people thought, you’d stomp their head into the cobblestone if they had so much as poked you.

“Come here and give me a-”

You took a step back, mustering the deadliest face you could, but you wavered, it was only natural, no matter how much you could try to hype yourself up, this person was your first true experience of real-life nightmares, the first person to bring you true pain, no matter how many ruin guards, hunters, millachurls, mages- anything you faced, nothing could prepare you to face your first fear:

The fear of your older sibling.

“If you fucking touch me I’ll stab you-” The growl cracked nearing the end, you were always an angry crier but you were not about to fall back to this- this monster. “In front of all these people, I won’t hesitate”

Their face dropped followed by your stomach, though, the food you had for lunch sure did feel its way up your gullet.

“What’s with your language? We haven’t seen each other in four years and this is how you treat me? Your older sibling?” They laughed in disbelief because onlookers would think they were shocked, I mean, how could you speak to family like that? But they didn’t know, they didn’t know the words they had told you, the insults, the threats, those tight grabs, those beatings- they didn’t know, so they obviously didn’t know that the shock came from the fact that you had stood up to them.

You licked your lips to get rid of the dryness, but the problem you faced was that your mouth had dried out along with them, as did your throat.

Don’t let them turn this on you, don’t let them get the upper hand, you were better than them, so much better.

“You’re not my fucking sibling” You spat, feeling the air vibrate around you, a sudden shine from your cloak hinted you to the cause “You haven’t been for a long time, don’t fucking try that shit with me”

There it was, that familiar enraged spark, that look of hatred on their face, the thing that warned you about what you said had been the right thing to set them off, that they were just as easily triggered by the smallest act of rebellion just like when you were kids.

Of course, they hadn’t changed.

Evil never did.

They took a step forward but you didn’t back off, just hardened your resolve as they leaned in menacingly, as though their stupid little intimidation tactic still worked after all these years.

You told yourself it didn’t but you knew deep down that wasn’t completely true.

“Don’t speak to me like that, (Name)” Facade gone, they showed you what they really were, what they were really like after all, “Don’t you ever speak to me like that, you show me fucking respect”

Respect?

RESPECT!?

Oh Archons, you were angry, no, seething from the thought that they ever deserved respect.

That pathetic piece of shit, that gruelling pleb, mere gum on the bottom of your damn shoe-

You’d kill them, right here, right now.

You felt the familiar materialisation begin to form in your hand when another voice called out, a familiar loving one that nearly made your throat swell from relief.

“(Name)?”

Diluc

He could sense the tension. Of course, he could sense the tension, Diluc had faced this tension so many times before, he was practically the one that owned such a vibe anytime Kaeya even breathed near him for a second longer than necessary.

But being the one to witness it, to see you, the usual awkward, goofy sweetheart stare at another with such overbearing malice made him uneasy, caused his stomach to churn in ways he didn’t like, set him off in a way that was only reserved for the most chilling on moments.

Diluc wondered what exactly this stranger had done to warrant such a reaction from you.

“(Name)?” The redhead called, glancing around the many citizens of Mondstadt that watched the exchange with intrigue, guard and worry, eyes focused on the scene of this foreign stranger and fuming you, hand poised by your side with weapon particles dancing on your palm.

When Diluc finally made it over, his form seemed to curl protectively around you, hand landing on the small of your back delicately while keeping face with the person, eyes narrowed dangerously but still holding an air of civilness.

A true gentleman, even when you were close to merking some rando.

“Is there a problem?”

The stranger straightened immediately, backing up a few steps with their hands up in defence, sending Diluc a charming smile that the man could see through crystal clear.

“No problem, no problem at all” They glanced back at you, seemingly friendly despite his partner’s obvious ill intent that radiated off you in waves “Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

Diluc saw you tense up once again, the buzz from your Vision rising in volume with your obvious anger as you tightened your first, ready to just screw your weapon and go for the throat.

“If that is the case” The noble’s hand softly pressed against your back, gently but coaxing, knowing that conflict in the middle of the town centre would just bring the knights to meddle in affairs that they had no business attending “Then we shall be going”

“There’s no need to leave, after all, my sibling and I were just chatting”

He paused, shouldering a questioning glance your way but at the sight of your unruly expression, he pushed down his enquiries and once again began coaxing you away from the scene. Angel’s Share had already been open for a while, meaning the usual folk would already be settled in, but the storage room was sure to be a good place to chat and to calm you down, all he needed to do was get you away.

“We already had plans” The side glance had the stranger- your sibling, biting their tongue, brows furrowing in a known annoyance as the two of you began your way towards the pub, you still vibrating in anger. “Good day to you”

The two of you had made it a few feet when they called out once again “Don’t worry, (Name), I’ll see you again real soon”

Diluc’s arm tightened around you faster than you could react, tugging you away quickly “Diluc-”

“No, (Name)”

“Stay out-”

“Not here” Sharing a look, he softened at the shine in your eyes. “You’ll just attract the knights' attention”

You didn’t care, no, not one bit. If the knights had dared to interfere at that moment, they too would have been caught up in your blinded revenge, thrown aside or slashed down without single care just to finally eradicate the bane of your existence and you didn’t care about what consequences you brought about, you just didn’t and you made sure to tell Diluc that, as soon as you had the privacy of Angel’s Share’s storeroom, pacing up and down while he stood off to the side against the wall, watching silently.

“You had no right to get in my way!” You snapped, voice shaking from the pure emotions you were releasing “I finally had my chance, I was finally going to do it! They deserve to end by my hand, by my decision, after the years of torture they put me through! They deserved it! And you got in my way! How could you get in my way! I-”

Pushing off the wall, he slowly advanced towards you, carefully, hands out like he was approaching a wounded animal.

“I understand you’re upset-”

“I’m not upset!” You cried at him, stopping mid-step before dropping your head and tightly, grabbing your hair in your hands “I’m not upset! I’m angry! I’m so fucking angry! And I deserve to be fucking angry! I-”

The sob ripped through your throat despite you trying to hold it back, tears finally gathering in your eyes and rapidly falling down your cheeks “You should have let me kill them! I should have had the chance to rid the world of their evil! It’s not fair! It’s not- it’s not fair, I-”

You didn’t bother to fight him when his arms finally wrapped around you, just fell against him as you wept. The pent up rage, fear and sadness from years of repression taking its toll as you cried, your partner whispering sweet words as he raked his hand through your hair gently and leaned his head against yours.

“I’m sorry” His hand held your cheek fondly, ruby red staring back into your own eyes with a softness that made you melt “I didn’t know this meant so much to you, but if you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll always listen”

With another choked sob, you leaned into his hold “Please just hold me for now”

And he did just that.

Kaeya

The captain had promised to meet you at his office, a simple task really but with the lingering presence of Jean and the words ‘There’s so much work that needs to be done’ leaving her lips he bolted, hoping to catch you by the Guild and drag you to Angel Share for your date. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her, it was just he had already promised you this night and Eula could have always taken his place with paperwork, her threat of “vengeance” as she liked to call it could wait for another day.

It was also due to the fact he had no intentions of filing any paperwork for as long as he could avoid it, but that was his secret to be kept.

Being the perspective man he was, he could tell straight away he had walked into something tense, surveying the surrounding people of Mondstadt who looked on in concern, the unbridled rage upon your face, the obviously intimidating lean that the stranger held over you- something was wrong and he knew he had to put a stop to it.

“(Name)?” You glanced for a single moment before your furious glare had returned to the stranger, another flag waving right in his face as he approached, “My dear? Who might this be?”

Before you could snap, lip curling in disgust, the stranger stood back to their full height, switching quickly with a fake charming smile that practically mirrored his own, holding out their hand towards him “(S/N) (Last), (Name)’s older sibling. it’s nice to meet you”

Kaeya’s smile widened and despite the glare from you that was now focused on him, he shook your sibling's hand in-kind “Kaeya Alberich, (Name)’s partner-”

He made sure to tighten his grip with his last words “And Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius”

Successfully, as he always was, Kaeya held back the smug, mocking grin that itched to climb onto his face when the neck of your sibling bobbed nervously, forehead reflecting the afternoon light as sweat gathered on their brow.

The man hadn’t obviously threatened them, surely, Kaeya was smarter than that, but then again, he could still present himself as a threat, a good one and well, his title was a menacing one when it came to the right moment. ‘Try anything and not only do I have the authority to kick your arse but the power to put you in a place many didn’t dare even step’ shortened into an innocent sentence with only 8 words.

“Cavalry Captain? That’s quite impressive” They laughed off, tugging away their hand awkwardly when Kaeya continued to keep a firm grip, his present eye focused solely on your siblings face. They glanced over to you “Quite an achievement for you, aye (Name)?”

You growled, “I’ll show you an achievement-”

Kaeya’s arm had wrapped around your waist not a second later, tugging you tighter to his side as the two of you turned, the man throwing your sibling a smile over his shoulder.

“As nice as it was to meet you, (S/B), we must be going”

And then without another word Kaeya dragged you away, heading in the direction of your home instead of Angel Share tavern, feeling your pure, unfiltered anger the whole way along with the citizens as they parted ways, rushing off from your rage.

It was only when you had returned to the sanctuary of your abode did you snap, jerking away from your boyfriend with angered strides and beginning your seething lecture towards him, moving up and down through the living room while he ventured off into the kitchen, grabbing 2 glasses and a bottle of wine.

“How dare you Kaeya! How fucking dare you! Do you have any idea what you were doing back there!? What was even happening back there!? So much for being the most observant man in Mondstadt because you seemed pretty dense to me the whole fucking time!” Your hands raked through your hair as you yelled, trying so hard to hold back the tears “I didn’t need your damn help, Kaeya! Nor did I fucking want it! Know to stay out of someone's business when it isn’t wanted!”

Logically you knew what he had done, you were smart like that and you knew Kaeya long enough to know what he was doing but your rage, fear and sadness blocked out everything in that moment, made you blind to reality, made you only think irrationally and Kaeya didn’t blame you for that. He could never blame you for that.

Though, it did hurt him to see you in this state.

“Wine?”

You gawked at him for a moment, staring at him with shock and confusion as he held out a wine glass towards you, another held in his other hand and a sweet smile plastered on his face, before your moment morphed into rage, grabbing the drink from his hand and tossing it towards the wall, the red wine splattering over the wallpaper and glass shards falling to the floor.

“Well, that was a waste-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Kaeya!?” You cried, not even bothering to hold back anymore as the tears fell and your voice cracked, hand pointing accusingly in his face “Is this some kind of joke to you!? Huh!? Am I a fool in your eyes!? Some sort of blubbering idiot!? Why must you- why do you-”

The second glass was placed on the dresser by you both, Kaeya’s hand coming to hold your cheek fondly while the other came to grab your hand that dangled in the air, still poised at him “I don’t think you're either of those, my dear, in fact, I think you’re one of the brightest in the whole of Teyvat, nevermind Mondstadt”

You hiccuped “Then why-”

Brushing away the wetness from your cheek, he brought your hand to his mouth to place a fond kiss on your palm “Because you mustn’t cry, (Name), don’t waste your tears on someone like them”

“I’m not crying, I’m-”

He shushed you gently and you finally relaxed, falling into his embrace with a heavy heart “-I’m not, I swear-”

Within the familiarity of your home, you wept in his arms, exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions and the scenes that had transpired that day, ready to just curl into yourself and try to block the flooding memories of history. Although, having Kaeya at that moment helped more than he could ever know, having him to rely on made it all so much easier to cope with that day.

“Tell me what ails you and I’ll listen” Brushing back some hair, he pressed a kiss to your head.

“Can..can we just stay like this for a while?”

“Of course, my dear”

Zhongli

He had sensed the incoming danger like it had been revealed in some sort of premonition. Maybe it had been a skill he had acquired after his long, eventful life, maybe it was his connection to Liyue and his citizens, but for some reason, as he sat before Iron Tongue Tian as the man recalled his tales of ancient Liyue like usual, Zhongli knew that the crowd that was forming around Wamin Restaurant had something that he need urgently attend, especially when even Tian paused his story to glance around the corner of the restaurant building to see the commotion.

When the archon had finally borne witness to the scene, he paused within the crowd, surveying the surroundings carefully. You were the centre of attention, along with another stranger, both glaring at one another with anger and disgust, though your own anger seemed to double compared to the other’s, seeing as your weapon was slowly materialising in your grip. Zhongli could also see Guild Master Lan making her way down the steps leading to the Guild reception, a worried expression on her face glancing between you and the approaching Millelith.

Zhongli made his decision, politely pushing through the crowd until he had finally made it by your side, hand being placed gently on your arm “(Name)?”

Both you and the stranger glanced at him, but he paid no mind to them, only held eye contact with you when Lan appeared by your other side, glaring at the stranger with a hardened gaze.

“Are you harassing my guild member?”

Before the stranger could respond, the Millelith had also popped in, glancing between you and them “Is there a problem?”

Zhongli had taken up your view when Lan began her take, she had borne witness for much longer than he had of course and he was certain that you were in no state to talk to the guards. Your eyes were glazed with hatred, pupils pinpricks in a sea of (E/C) and your hands were shaking, balled into fists.

If anything, he needed to try and calm you down first.

“Get the hell out of my way, Zhongli” Your teeth ground together, words shaking with anger “Don’t push yourself into my business”

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t do that” He tried brushing your cheek but you jerked away, glaring at his hand before glaring back at him, in no mood to be coddled “I don’t want you to do something you’d regret”

“Trust me, I won’t regret this one bit”

Zhongli held his tongue for the question that almost rolled out, knowing now wasn’t the time for inquiries when the stranger’s voice rang out, condescending and snarky as they addressed you.

“Still need people to protect you, aye (Name)? Of course, you’re still the same pathetic bitch from years ago”

You were lucky for your reputation around Liyue, for the picture of the kind and caring adventurer that had swept through the town from your years of living here because had it not been for that, you pushing aside your boyfriend and materialising your weapon to aim it at your sibling’s throat would have had you in cuffs that instant.

Lan grabbed you, tugging you away as you screamed “I’ll show you pathetic you fucker! Let me go!”

The Millelith didn’t wait to drag your sibling away, much to their cries of dismay, one sending Lan a nod while you continued to fight against her, crying out in frustration.

“Kid, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down!? No! Get the hell off me!”

Zhongli watched as you finally broke away, huffing and puffing up a storm before glancing amongst the crowd, staring at their worried and concerned faces, your own eyes tearing up before you looked away pushing past the crowd to find somewhere to be alone.

When Lan went to call out for you, Zhongli raised his hand, the two sharing a look before the archon made his way after you, his longer legs keeping a steady pace to which he could catch up to you, just beyond the bridge that led into Liyue Harbour. There were no people where you stood, just the lush green plants and great mountains of nature, a perfect place for you to let out your frustration without the prying eyes of the citizens.

“(Name)-”

“Leave me alone!” You cried, curling into yourself with your back turned to him “I don’t want you here, Zhongli! Nor did I want you back there! I didn’t need your or anyone else's help!”

You knew he was here from a place of concern, and deep down you begged that your words didn’t harm him in any way, but currently, you didn’t care, you didn’t want to care, you just wanted to be numb, numb to the flashbacks of your horrid past and numb to the feelings that were dragged along with them.

“My love, please, return with me to our home, I will brew some calming tea-”

“Tea? Tea!? Does it look like I want any fucking tea?! I couldn’t care any less about some fucking tea, Zhongli!” Spinning around on your heels, you scowled at him, not bothering to hide your rushing tears “Don’t you get it!? I want to be left alone, I-”

Two gloved hands gently encased your face, your angered expression morphing into one of shock as your partner stared down at you with glowing eyes filled with a deep-rooted love, affection, worry and so much more that you couldn’t put into mere mortal words. At that moment, everything felt as if it had melted away, only you and him were in this world, nothing else, just the two of you.

And you felt as though your heart had been lifted from the pressures of this life.

“I do not think it is best for you to be left alone” His baritone voice was always so calming, so serene and in your sane moment, you finally felt its effects “I wish to stay with you, so please, let me stay”

With a whimper, you grabbed onto his forearms and leaned your face into his hands, tears continuing to fall as your eyes fluttered shut “Okay…”

“They have hurt you deeply, haven’t they?”

Hesitantly, you nodded.

“Would you be so kind as to tell me the details?”

“I-...” Sharing eye contact once again, you whispered “Can- can you just...hold me for now? Please”

Moving his hands from your face, he engulfed you in his arms, leaning his head against yours “Of course”

Childe

The Harbinger had just left the Northland Bank, hell, he was just about to make his way down the spiral staircase but when hearing the commotion, he paused, something in his gut telling him to check just before and he was glad he did.

Glancing over the elevated walkway, he felt a fiery pit roar in the depths of his stomach, eyes narrowing dangerously at the scene; you were snarling in some other person’s face, their own face nothing short of disgust and a crowd that only seemed to grow by the minute.

Who the hell did this person think they were? Did they even know who you were? To stand so close to you, with a look of threat on their face like you weren’t about to kick their arse? Like he wasn’t about to kick their arse? How did this insignificant speck of dross not know your connections with him, the 11th Harbinger? Or did he know and was just trying his luck?

“Seems like someone has a death wish” And a death wish they had indeed.

Ignoring the perplexed glance from his subordinate stationed outside the building's entrance, Childe made his way down the steps, murderous look stitched on the whole way to the circle of civilians, the mass parting ways for the man that was Tartaglia and continuing to watch the moment in silence.

“Who the hell are you-” You both turned towards him, you in shock while the stranger stared in confusion until Childe’s hand wrapped around their collar, tugging them closer to look down at them with a deep-rooted disgust “-And why the hell are you harassing my partner?”

They fought against him, obviously, they did, but the surprise came when you saddled up next to him, grabbing his arm “Stay out of this, Tartaglia”

What? It hadn't been your request, no, you were always one to finish your whole fights you weren't "A damsel in distress after all!" no, you were so much more, so much greater but that look on your face, murderous and downright cruel- he just couldn't believe his ears.

Childe stared at you in shock while the stranger struggled, throwing him a dirty look in their attempts “Yeah, this is between my sibling and I”

Childe straightened in surprise, feeling embarrassment flood his system. Had he seriously just grabbed and threatened his lover’s family member? Oh, Archons, his judgement had been clouded by anger at the look of the scene, I mean, why would your sibling look at you that way-

“But it’s really no surprise that you still need to be babied, (Name), how shameful”

His eyes widened but not a moment later had you tackled your sibling, the crowd crying out in alarm as you threw back your fist and crushed their nose under the weight of your punch. “I’ll show you fucking shameful, bastard!”

There was shouting and a glance showed the oncoming Millelith marching towards the circle.

Being Fatui always did garner the attention of the guards nowadays, especially for him, who had tried to lure out the attention of their Archon by summoning an ancient god that nearly drowned the entirety of the harbour, so it was no surprise that they seemed to hurry in the pursuit when they noticed his appearance at the scene. However, lucky for him, your reputation as a great adventurer preceded you and throughout Liyue you were seen as a trusted and well-liked individual, meaning whatever trouble you got in, containing his meddling or not, was usually waved away due to the trust of the people.

So, without another thought, Childe tugged you off of your bloodied sibling and held you close, even as you thrashed violently, shouting at him to let you go.

“What is going on here?” A guard called, slamming the hilt of his polearm into the ground as he surveyed the area, eyes landing on the sibling before following the small trail of blood to you, still fighting against your boyfriend with threats falling from your lips “Was there a reason for this brawl? Who started it?”

As your sibling raised themselves on their forearms, they scowled and opened their mouth to respond, only for Childe to put in. “It was them, sir, they were the one that started it, (Name) was merely acting in self-defence”

The Millelith scowled at him, raising a brow and once again looking you over “Is that so?”

He addressed the crowd soon after “Is this what happened?”

And as expected, they all glanced over the sibling, then to you and piped up in agreement. It paid to be a hero, it seemed, the whole harbour returning the favour of years of helping out the community.

“If that’s the case, please come with us” The sibling cried out, anger and fear laced into their voice, trying to argue for their innocence only for the guards to grab them, hauling them away to archons know where while Childe did the same with you, slowly dragging you away from the scene and back into the bank, you screaming and cursing the whole way until you had made it to his office, finally managing to push him off and storming to the opposite side of the room practically seething.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Tartaglia!?” You cried, throwing out your arms in exaggeration “I didn’t need your fucking help! And why the fuck would you pull me off them!? I had them right where I wanted them and you fucking did that! Are you a moron!?”

“You had a sibling” He breathed, watching as you began to pace, muttering in an angered state “And you didn’t tell me”

“-after all these years I finally had the chance to end their pathetic excuse of a life and you just got in my fucking way! I’d waited too long for this moment and you fucking ruined it! How dare you, how fucking dare you-”

“(Name), why didn’t you tell me you had a sibling!?” He cried, walking up to you and grabbing your wrist to stop you “I was ready to kill them right there! And why are you talking about them like this!? They’re your family aren’t they-”

“They are not my fucking family!”

The scream echoed through the room, chilling Childe to the core as you ripped your arm from his grasp, running your hands through your hair before gripping it so tightly it felt close to being ripped from your head. But you didn’t care, no, you couldn’t, you were so angry and you needed something to keep you grounded, to keep yourself from losing yourself and getting lost in those haunting past memories.

The Harbinger felt his chest squeeze painfully as the tears fell down your face, red rimming your eyes and cheeks wet as you sobbed, chest heaving from trying to breathe “Family takes care of you! Family thinks of you in the highest light possible! They love you for who you are and they love you no matter what! That bastard hurt me, made me feel worthless and they refuse to believe they could do no wrong and I hate them! They are the bane of my existence! They are not my fucking family! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I-”

Arms were around you instantly, Childe’s face pressed into your hair as you wept, grasping onto the lapels of his suit and shoving your face into his chest to muffle your cries.

“I’m sorry” He whispered, his own eyes shining slightly “I’m sorry, I was being insensitive. Please, don’t cry”

“No, I’m not crying, I promised myself I wouldn’t-” You hiccuped “I wouldn’t waste any more tears on them-”

Then you broke off into more wails, your boyfriend holding you close and letting you continue to cry in his arms, warm and comforting until you were finally reduced to whimpers, leaning into him heavily as the remaining adrenaline in your body began to wear thin when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Will...will you tell me about it?”

You sniffed “Later...just hold me for now, please, Ajax...”

His arms tightened protectively “Anything for you, my love”

[kkusuka]

Body of Glass <3

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader 

genre: smut 

words: 1.8k

synopsis: hajime treats you like glass and all you want to do is get fucked. 

a/n: this was hella fun to write LMAO, let me know what you think <3 

 based on this request: Iwa, Maroon 5 - One More Night. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you. Sometimes he doesn’t know his own strength so he holds himself back but y/n can tell so they grip his hair hard making him look at them “Hajime stop tiptoeing around me” they bring their lips closer to his “wreck me, I want bruises, hand prints, bite marks. I want you to man handle me I want you to leave your mark on me so everyone knows who I belong to, I’m not a piece of glass baby boy” they bite and suck on his bottom lip “go ahead, break me” -✨Puppy🤩

Cw: Fem anatomy, degradation, hard dom iwa-chan, Daddy kink

In a way, you regret not listening to your friends sooner.

Of course, any advice they had given you was after a lengthy explanation of how sexually frustrated you were. Of course, it was mostly of your own fault.

Hajime was great -- he always was -- he made you cum and you both felt satisfied by the end of the night. He was wonderful, sweet, and treated you like a queen-- it was every girl's dream for a guy to treat them like that so what was your problem?

He was sweet, wonderful, and kind, that was your problem.

And you felt more guilt about it. He couldn’t be a better boyfriend and it wasn't like he never satisfied you. Bot, in turn, was it so bad for you to want him to throw you onto a mattress and put you in your place?

“No, it most certainly is not! Y/n, you have to talk to him, it will never get better if you just sit and sulk about this!” your friend yelled, gaining more than a few heads thrown in your direction. And you're sure if it happens one more time the manager will be having a word with you.

It's been like this for the past 45 minutes as you waited for Hajimes practice game to start. Which, instead of standing in the gym for an hour, your friends decided to head to a small cafe to pass time.

“Think about it, when was the last time you were completely satisfied with sex?”

That's the problem, you always are satisfied, in the orgasmic sense that is. Hajime is talented, that’s not the issue, you're sick of being treated like a doll. You aren't made of glass, you can handle a bit of roughness from your boyfriend.

Of course, you love the soft kisses on your jaw, and Hajime telling you how amazing you are and how you fit perfectly against him. It’s very hard to hate, you love how soft his eyes look as he makes you cum around him.

Apparently, you had taken too long to answer your friend's question as she starts shouting ‘i told you so’ ‘s and telling you to either dump him or fix this because she’s sick of seeing you miserable. (which you are not)

“I am not going to break up with him, I’ll talk to him, ok? That should be good enough.” you resolved, and your friends expressed her happiness at the idea, rushing to get back to your school as the game would start in ten minutes.

Walking into the gym you could see the warmups still taking place. As you looked over the team, Hajime caught your gaze sending a small smile your way as he went up for a spike, hitting it with unimaginable force.

As you sat, letting your mind wander was a challenge. His hands, the veins in arms, the strength he had. Your ass sting just thinking about what his palm could do if he just let it, replaying it in your head sending waves of warmth to your core.

A bad thought to have right before a game where your boyfriend, the ace who gets most of the balls sent to him, would be playing almost the whole time.

A thought proven by the wave of heat to your clit every time he spiked that ball, amplified by the concentrated look on his face every time he jumped for a spike. This was probably the most honed in you've ever been at one of his games, and it was just because you were getting off.

It was no surprise the Aoba Johsai team won, and that meant a happy Iwa-chan. Which also meant that you could spend all of tonight with him. As your friend put it, “a perfect night for you to get railed the way you want!”

The problem? There was apparently no good way to start this conversation. You were having a good time with Hajime, you don't want to potentially ruin it while eating dinner, or watching a movie, or when he started to rub your thigh.

It was only when he began to softly kiss up to your jaw like he had done hundreds of times before, that you just blurted something out.

“You’re always too soft!” It was a moment that you wanted to slap a hand over your mouth and never speak again, especially when Iwaizumi froze and pulled his head from your neck.

“What?” he seemed to be in shock, staring eyes wide in confusion. Now there was no possible turning back, you had to tell him. Letting out a sigh, you sat back and let him do the same.

“You're so soft with me, I’m not made of glass love. You can be a bit rough, I want- I want you to be rough with me! You treat me like glass and, and I- it’s just too soft sometimes!” you spoke, it was like your shoulders were ten pounds lighter, until you opened your eyes to his face.

“You don't like it? I’m sorr-” he sounded so hurt and you felt ten times worse about this.

“No, No! I love it, it’s great- you’re great Haj!-” you turned to grab his cheeks forcing him to look at you, “But sometimes I want you to bend me over and tell me my place! Oh god! I want you to spank me and fuck me ‘till I can’t walk for a week! Edge me until I'm a mumbling mess. Treat me like a bitch- your bitch! I adore making love to you, but Goddamit I want you to fuck me like a whore!”

By the time you finished Hajime’s mouth gaped and he looked as if you punched him. Then in a second, he was hovering over your body, a hand on your throat pinning you to the couch.

He straddled your hips, keeping you in place as he used a hand to shed his sweatshirt, leaving him in a pair of grey sweats, your favorite pair nonetheless.

“You wanna be fucked like a street whore, huh? You want to be used like a hole for my amusement, don't you? Go on, tell me what you want.” he growled working his other hand to the buttons of your shorts. “Say it, Slut.”

You were about to cum and he hasn't even touched you yet, you had no idea how quickly he would change and you had no idea just how much it would turn you on.

“You beg to be my whore but can follow direction? I should just stop here.” he took the handoff of your neck and made a move to get off your body.

“No! Want to be your whore” use me like a slut! Please, I'll be good for you!”  Your begging made him resume his position. Not before throwing away your shirt.

“Alright, knees now. Let’s see how good you can be.” pulling you up by your neck, he sat back, spreading his legs to let you settle between them. It was either shock or you went brain dead, but all you could do was stare at the growing bulge in his pants.

“Are you going to start or do I have to do everything?” his voice shakes you out of your trance as you reach past his waistband. Only a second later your hand ran over something hard and sweltering.

From the small hiss Iwaizumi let out, you knew what that was. Pulling his cock out of its refines, you watched a bead of precum drip down the tip, following it across the veins of his hardening dick.

“Get on with it.”

Taking his tip into your mouth, you circled your tongue collecting the salty wetness. Pulling off, licked your way down to the base of his cock, letting it harden even further. Taking your head back you took a breath before putting as much of his dick in your mouth as you could.

Softly bobbing on him, you tried to take more of him taking whatever you couldn’t into your hand. You went until Hajime grabbed the back of your head, holding you on his cock. Before he shoved his entire length down your throat, grunting at your gag.

“Let’s get this out of the way, first, you call me Daddy or Sir, that’s it. Anything else and you don't get to cum for a week. Second, you do what I tell you, Third, no talking back. Both get you the same place, no cumming. Understand?” he didn't ask you to comply, he demanded you follow him.

He released your head, allowing you to come up for air, “yes, I understand.”

“I understand……?”  Oh!

“I understand, Daddy.”

“Good baby, now stand up.” he stood after you, pulling his sweats down as you stripped yourself of your clothes. “Hands and knees”

Pressing against you, his tip lined up with your dripping cunt as he latched a thumb to your clit, “I haven't touched you and you're dripping, you really are a whore.”

You couldn’t take his teasing, his tip running along your folds lubing his cock at a maddening pace. Removing his hand from your clit, he pressed against your back forcing your chest to the fabric of the couch and pushing your ass higher in the air.

Without warning, he thrusted his entire length into your walls. Feeling your walls pulse around him, Hajime let out a groan of your name.

Not giving you a chance to adjust, he pulled out to the tip before slamming back into your depths, sending you ford onto the couch.

“Feel good, slut?” he growled out, grabbing a handful of hair to pull your eyes towards him. Using your body as leverage to fuck you harder.

“I- Yes i-” you struggled to get out, as he barked out a laugh, thrusts never faltering as he pounded your g-spot.

“I haven’t even been fucking you for five minutes and you’re already all fucked out? A few harsh words and you become a bimbo? You really are just a street whore.”

Not giving you a chance to think as he sped his thrusts, fingers coming to circle your clit aiding in the growing sensation in your abdomen. Humping back to try and desperately meet his pounding.

A harsh thrust to your cervix had you seeing stars, collapsing into the couch as Hajime continued to use you like a hole until you zoned back into reality.

Pulling your back to his chest, your second orgasm already growing, “You better suck it up, I'm nowhere near done, Whore.”

[deluluass]

Attention

Since requests are open again, can i request a yan!bokuto developing a crush with one of the other teams' managers during their training camp? 👀             

for: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa​. hi bestie 😔 this is late (again), but i hope u like it 😍

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; underage drinking; (slight) sub!Bokuto👀; mild footplay

Three minutes. 

Three minutes and forty-five seconds, to be exact, before the truth came for you like a ball careening towards your blindside: 

  You’re not supposed to be here .

  Granted, the thought had already slinked its way into your brain ever since you’d overheard the coach crying on his phone, his wife on the other side of the line, that if he hadn't groveled and appealed to his college friend’s sense of honor, as he’d sniffled, they wouldn’t have even considered the team ( your team) to be worthy of receiving an invitation to this training camp. 

  Ignoring the worries that came after that was supposed to be easy. It shouldn’t have come at all . It’s irrational and it doesn’t help anyone. What was the point in fretting? Your boys are more than deserving— more than capable in fact —of going toe to toe with some of Tokyo’s best. 

  It’s also a given that those people don’t know anything about your team. You do live in a town half a day’s ride away from the capital. And how could you expect city folk to recognize a team that hails from a place where the cows outnumber the people three to one?

  They’re bound to not know.

  But the needless unease stayed and soon took a life of its own, the weight of it becoming heavier and heavier over the course of the weeks that you waited for that dreaded day, like a hungry beast that you diligently fed with your little what-if’s. 

  What if that place eats us alive?

  What if they make fun of us? 

  What if, despite trying our hardest, all we do is lose? 

  What if these people take a single look at us and think that we’re not good enough?

  What if they’re right?

  The deep chasm on the scoreboard tells you exactly that, plain and without a hint of artifice.

  Shinzen High has already scored five points. 

  Your team is still stuck at zero.

  And the clock continues to tick.

  “Chance ball!” 

  Your captain's voice was feeble against the noise of the ball being passed from one hand to another. 

  Odd, that. 

  Itsuki's not the type to pull his punches. Especially in the middle of a game; always one to use his entire chest when launching back at his enemies with a guttural roar.

  You looked at the players standing on your side of the court— really looked at them, in a way that you should have instead of wasting your time entertaining those doubts— and found nary a trace of your teammates among those too-stiff, too-quiet boys that bore an uncanny resemblance to a bunch of rabbits caught in the headlights.  

  A chuckle erupted from your chest, surprising even you.

  "Something funny?" the coach asked, his glance turning wary when you convulsed in a fit of shrill giggles. 

  "Yeah," you told him, shaking your head. “There is, Coach.”

  From the bored expressions on your opponents’ faces to Shigeru’s (failed) attempt to set for Koyama, all the way to an audience that wasn’t even looking, who were, frankly, much more interested in what's on their phones than what’s in front of them. 

  How can you not find this funny?

  You were worried about... this ? 

  You sighed, your head the clearest that it’s ever been in a long while, and stood from your seat on the bench. 

  The coach called out your name in a harsh whisper. You ignored him, not even bothering to explain yourself. After all, you’ve already spent too much of your energy on the wrong things. 

  And so, in the most polite way that you could, you shouted:

  “Hey! What the fuck is this!”

  Everyone might've gawked; the coach may have pulled you back to the bench with a strength that you didn’t know he possessed. There’s something much more important than being respectable, though. 

  “None of us ever cared about what these assholes think!” you pressed on, staring down at Takami, whose dad never fails to remind him that he’ll waste away his life fooling around with that useless club . “So, why,” you ask with a clear voice, “Why are we starting now?!”

  Of course, just like any of your spur of the moment ideas, that hadn’t ended the way you hoped it would.

  They still lost (they also did in the following game). All of the coaches (including yours and excluding the one from Nekoma High; that one just patted your back) had expressed their disapproval over what you did. You couldn’t regret it, however, no matter how humiliating their rebukes made you feel.

  Because you don’t think you’ve seen any of your teammates look the least bit happy since you set foot into this place. But, now— even with the fact that all they've achieved so far is keep the floors clean with their diving laps— now, they do.

  With that, it seems to you then that this place isn’t so bad, after all.

A day.

  A day and ten hours, approximately, had already passed when Bokuto felt your presence acutely like the stinging red imprint a hurtled ball leaves on his skin. And just like the circumstances that lead to that bloodied, angry marking, you made your existence known with just as much force as a player spiking for the kill. 

  Some of them guffawed, out of disbelief and sheer delight both, because in all the years that they’ve trained together in preparation for the interhigh, they don’t think anyone has ever called them a bunch of “assholes” before.

  They didn’t think much about that new team that arrived too late. So, yeah, Bokuto wanted to laugh, too, just like others. ‘ What a way to make an impression, huh?’ he wanted to say.

  That wasn’t what he said, though. 

  Bokuto wasn’t even able to say anything. 

  He was too busy staring at your mouth, the resoluteness in your lips as if you knew exactly what to say; the way you looked at your teammates, like there was nobody else more astounding, more unbeatable at this game than the boys before you (though, surely, even you can see that they’re far from being any of those things). 

  And yet, there you were, your eyes incandescent; they might as well have been on fire, blazing with so much awe and unshakable faith and it was so clear for everyone to witness and— and Bokuto did not know what to do with it. 

  It was so embarrassing, truth be told. Bokuto may not be the most secretive guy around, but when the others eventually pointed out that he looked scared at the thought of facing them ( you ), he just couldn’t help but sulk.

  “We’re not half the cheerleader she is, Bokuto-san,” Yukie teased him, patting his shoulder as she did, “but rest easy, we’ll try our best to boost morale.”

  He just groaned, immediately locking his legs at a stand still when the others hooted, ‘Look at him! He looks like he’s about to piss himself bouncing his legs like that . ’ Really, what was he supposed to say?

  Because, when he finally faced your team with that net in between and as he felt the ball against his palms when he aimed for a clean hit towards the floor, it’s not even fear that rushes through him. 

  Not even close.

  Beyond the defeated faces, of the exhaustion slathered all over your team’s barks after each point he snatched under their noses, Bokuto saw you looking at him. 

  Just a flicker; a passing peek before that determined gaze settled back on the others. But it was there all the same: the pause in your breath as the ball detonated against your teammate’s frail arms, clutching the edge of the bench with your fingers as if it took everything in you to keep yourself from running towards the court.

  To rush towards him. 

  To— to what ? Exactly? To scream at his face the same way you did earlier? That he's going too rough and hurting your precious friends?

  There’s a part of him that wishes to stop. A strange, alien feeling that he supposes comes from the discomfort at the sight of you so troubled and wound up.

  Oh, but you're just starting to understand! 

  That if there's someone who's truly astounding, unbeatable, and staggeringly brilliant at this game, it's him . And Bokuto wanted to drive that point home like he's never wanted anything else in his entire life. 

  His body stopped feeling like his own by the second set. 

  His legs were too light to be his, like there were coil springs underneath his feet that carried him higher and higher he swore he could brush the roof with his fingertips. 

  There’s a thrumming in his flesh that propelled Bokuto to move faster, to push that ache over the edge until there’s nothing left but the breathless exhilaration of seeing his opponents kiss the ground.

  The air is getting thinner, like he’s scaling towards a mountain top as he sprints towards the other side of the court, long strides eating up the floor, uncaring for the sweat pouring down his cheeks.

  Bokuto was willing to let this thing go on forever and ever and ever , for as long as he feels the searing heat of your eyes on him.

  Until he turned his head in your direction. 

  You were smiling at something a spectator said. 

  He couldn’t hear it, but whatever it was it had pushed you to make a teasing remark to your team.

  A banter ensued.

  The referee blew his whistle as a warning.

  You giggled.

  Why?

  “The ball, Bokuto!”

  Why aren’t you looking? 

  His hands were two weights keeping him down, made heavier by that sinking sensation in his chest.

  When did you stop looking? 

  It was too much, too unbearable that he could cry. The indifferent way you'd removed him from your line of sight was a sucker punch that's not as painful as the shame it leaves him with.

  Were you even looking at all? 

  And he wonders with a shuddering exhale as he finally gathered the strength to raise an arm, Bokuto wonders what would happen if, just this once, he shot the ball towards y— 

  “Bokuto-san.”

  Akaashi was calling out to him.

  “Bokuto-san, we already won."

  The ball within his grasp dropped. 

  Bokuto watched it bounce on the floor until it rolled over to somebody else's waiting palm.

  He took a deep breath— in and then out, repeated it until everything came into sharp focus —and raised his head to squint at the scoreboard.

  22-3

  So they did.

  The other side of the court was already empty, your team assembled to one corner; you were out of sight.

  Everyone started to gather around him.

  They took Bokuto along with their cheers and reprimands and accusations, like a strong current that carried him from the bench to the shower room, laughing as they handed him a towel, having noticed that he’d been too out of it to do anything else but stay half-naked in front of the sink. 

  “Are you alright, Bokuto-san?” he heard Akaashi ask over the teeming excitement surrounding them. 

  Blinking, Bokuto paused from wiping his bare torso as he replied, “Me?”

  Their setter only nodded.

  “Yeah!” Bokuto exclaimed, a tad louder than he ought to. “Yeah, dude! Of course! Never been better!”

  “You were a man possessed," Masaki, still fresh from the shower, suddenly drawled from behind him. 

  “You were... quiet,” Ubugawa’s captain continued, reaching for the toothpaste laid next to Akaashi. “It was unlike you.”

  Bokuto was about to say something, somewhere along the lines of “Really? I didn’t notice” when Daiki made his decision to wring the wet shirt in his hand, brandish it like a belt, and strike Bokuto’s back with it, the impact cutting across the room. 

  “You little..!” Bokuto turned with a snarl, poised and ready to throw the boy over his shoulder.

  “Let it go, let it go,” Daiki chortled, grabbing Bokuto by his damp hair. “That’s for not giving us a warning, alright? Crazy bastard.”

  Daiki shook his head as he walked away. “Never seen the idiot go hard like that,” he mumbled.

  “That’s our ace for ‘ya!” Haruki echoed from his cubicle, to which the others responded with wolfish howls and sharp whistles, completely transforming the shower room into a tiled rainforest. 

  And Bokuto wanted to join along, because although the game still felt like an abrupt, fever dream, he’s well aware that he did something that he’s going to be proud of in the days to come. But somehow— for some unknown, beguiling reason, all he could do was stand there and make himself vulnerable to Kuroo’s antics.

  The Nekoma captain looked at Bokuto through the mirror, clicking his tongue before lamenting about “ those poor country boys ” and their “ ill luck ”.

  “Go easy on us small fries sometimes,” he added. “You were pretty scary back there.”

  Kuroo gave his nape a quick pat before he went for the lockers, leaving Bokuto to stare at his reflection, features obscured by the fog.

  Scary , he said.

  Scary, huh.

  A man possessed.

  Bokuto wonders about its meaning, what coach had meant earlier when he’d jokingly called him a beast. He contemplated what about him had led them to think that way, tried his best to be perceptible of any changes.

  His eyes were the same, although the pupils in the middle were large pools of tar, widened and leaving only the slightest space for the honeyed rim. 

  His hair was the same platinum color and still streaked with the same black lines, although untamed and in a disarray this time, with the strands sticking to his forehead. 

  Although flushed, his face was the same, over all.

  Everything seems to be right where they’re supposed to be.

  Although he’s huffing and puffing, creating more mist to cloud the mirror with. And when he tried to reach for the glass, he realized that his fingers were still trembling. His blood still surging as if his body had never left the court. 

  Then, it struck him.

  Bokuto holds his breath in anticipation, the truth of it right in front of him.

  There’s no monster here. 

  No man possessed either.

  Only a guy who’s helplessly, foolishly in love.

Announcing to an entire room of strangers that one is of the opinion that they're assholes, as it happened, was an effective way of making new friends.

  Of course, there was that awkward day-long explanation that you had to do for Yuki and Kaori and the others. An affair that wasn’t too different from a one-woman press conference that involved you expressing your regrets, revealing that, sometimes, when backed against a wall, you can be an impulsive clown with a glaring lack of filter (like: "No, no..! I didn't think you guys were actually- you know- ass- it just spilled-" and "Ah, geez, this is embarrassing.The heat was getting to me. I didn't mean it, really!" )

  But the girls had been kind enough to let bygones be bygones, assuring you that all they ever felt was a joyous combination of relief and wonder. Ubugawa's manager, Eri, (who'd shook your hand while holding back tears) even told you that seeing another girl in a veritable sausage fest that is the training camp was a miracle in itself. 

  "It was fun, actually," Mako once said when the two of you were assigned to carrot chopping duty. "You gave us something to talk about for a while."

  And even when the novelty of being a bumpkin with the mouth of a sailor soon faded, the bond that quickly bloomed between you and the other managers hadn't.

  It was unexpected, although not unwelcome.

  You couldn't help but laugh at yourself. How silly you'd been: coming into the city expecting a den of wolves and hunters armed to the teeth.

  In the span of two days thoughts of survival were replaced by the confidence that your boys would pull through; by a sense of ease that you didn't need to win all the time and that this place is not a battlefield, but a fertile ground for growth and learning. You didn't need to constantly be on your guard— knuckles up and gearing for a fight, you realized.

  Well — 

  For the most part, at least.

  Serving spoon in one hand and potholder in another, you reluctantly paused from preparing your team’s meal to whisper under your breath. "He's doing it again," you hissed.

  Kaori only gave you a preoccupied “hm?” as she plucked the ladle to fill the plain white ceramic bowls before her. “Who is?” she continued. 

  “Your captain,” you replied, taking care not to let him know that you're on the verge of melting under his not so subtle scrutiny.

  The lovely Fukurodani manager didn’t even miss a beat; without lifting her eyes away from the food, she raised her voice, just loud enough, to address the creature (spying) standing idly by the door. 

  “Say, Bo-kun,” Kaori called out and you watched, amazed, as he coughed out the water that he’s been making a great show of drinking. “Your mama must not have taught you that it's bad to ogle.”

  Bokuto Kotaro, Fukurodani’s ace and captain— a volleyball player that sits atop everybody else in this training camp, whose name is almost always followed by “one of the very best in the country”— quailed as his manager, the Great Kaori Suzumeda, blessed him with a smile veering on beatific. 

  “Oh-who-me?” he prattled, hands pointing at everything and nothing as he choked on his own words. “Didn’t see you there! What’s up! I was just passing by!”

  “In the middle of practice?” Kaori snickered. “ You ?” 

  The boy released a laughter that resonated in the empty cafeteria. 

  She sighed, dropping the ladle, and told him to “Just go, Bokuto.” He obediently complied, thank the gods, but not without an overzealous goodbye to Kaori, as if he’d never see her again when lunch was just half an hour away.

  He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t need to, anyway. The lingering gaze that he directed towards you was enough.

  “Thank you,” you exhaled once you made sure you’re no longer within his earshot, plopping your head against Kaori’s soft arm.

  Her chuckle fluttered towards you, causing you to smile as she asked, “Is it that bad?”

  You could only nod, both as an affirmation and an effort to shake those golden, hawk-eyes out of your system.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she said after a few seconds of comfortable silence, the firmness in her voice making you stand upright and level with her.

  Common decency tells you that you should say no, to stop her and tell her that she didn’t really have to; that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. But, you’d never really been one to listen to what that part of your brain dictates.

  Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a light squeeze, incapable of doing anything else to convey your gratitude with a sob lodged in your throat.

  “He’s not a bad guy, our Bokuto,” Kaori soothed. “And for what it’s worth, he’s never been like this with someone he likes.”

  A grin lit up her face as you snorted, remembering the time someone had finally caught on to Bokuto’s newfound fixation. The uproar that it’d cause in the field when everyone was out enjoying slices of ripe watermelon. The unnecessary and, frankly, embarrassing anger that it’d pulled out of your boys after it's been revealed to the whole world. The infamous blush on Bokuto Kotaro’s face as he desperately tried to deny the accusation. 

  And the cold, spent feeling it left you.

  “Normally, he’d be all over them,” she continued, mimicking his owl-like way of moving, bobbing her head to and fro as she circled around you.

  “Kaori!” you squealed, pushing her playfully by the shoulder. 

  “Bokuto would be like—” Kaori pumped her fists in the air, “ Hey, hey, hey! Talk to me! Talk to me! Compliment me! Love me! ”

  You simply hummed, folding your arms against your chest as you commended her spot-on performance. 

  She didn’t need to tell you all that, though. The guy had a personality so big it’s a miracle how this city contains him. And you’d known from the very beginning that Bokuto Kotaro doesn’t seem like the type to do the whole “pining from a distance” thing. 

  But, they even said that he’s half in love with you already, with the way he follows you with his eyes and flails and stutters and acts like he’s never had a mouth and a pair of hands before whenever he’s around you. And that, somehow, he plays even better than he already does when you’re in the audience ( especially when it’s against your team). 

  You don’t bother to correct them and say that no, this might not be a silly little crush.

  Because you don’t think that anyone but you would understand that there can never be any love nor infatuation in a stare that traps you with its expectations. Even if you did tell them that, you’re the only one who knows what Bokuto’s gaze really makes you feel like: A plaything that he’s been gifted to and was told would sing and dance for him just so he’d stop crying. 

  And you know what temperamental children do with toys that don’t work the way they want it to, don’t you?

  “Trust me.”

  Kaori’s gentle voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

  “He’s just an idiot,” she told you. “You’ve seen him— especially last week!” Kaori’s eyes bulged out, leaning closer to you, both of you gasping at the memory.

  Tears sprung out of your eyes as you laughed harder, your stomach aching when Kaori began to recount the events that had turned the entire training camp on its head, forever planting itself in its history as the worst ordeal it’s ever faced:

  A piece of the wall in the girls’ sleeping room broke off, revealing a large, Lovecraftian nest of cockroaches. 

  “If you’d only seen his face!” Kaori cackled, struggling to finish as she clutched onto you for support. “He burs- bursted into the room only for him to- to-”

  “Pass out when a roach flew to his nose! I know !” you screeched and slapped the table with her, ignoring that you’re almost knocking over the food and chortling until you were close to having a heart attack.

  “Oh- oh , I can’t breathe,” she groaned. Your laughter tapered off into heaving as you fixed her mussed bangs. 

  You smiled. 

  “See,” Kaori finally said, pinching your chin a little. “Bokuto’s a meathead. Just a meathead. Guy can’t get a clue. But he’ll come around once he realizes that he’s being weird.”

  “Yeah,” you murmured, giving her a weak nod. "I'm sure he will."

  You didn't know if you meant to say that with a hint of irony; if that scared farm girl is rearing her ugly head again and pointing a pitchfork at a monster of her own making.

  A monster that, you're convinced, would do something more than just look once you're within its reach.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

  Bokuto even had it all figured out in his head. C’mon, he's got the looks, doesn't he? And he's not lacking in charm. In fact, he's oozing with it! That's why Bokuto had expected that he had this one in the bag. His game plan was foolproof: 

  Talk to the girl. Get the girl.

  After that, you’d be together for the rest of your lives and your fiery, unrelenting support for that lousy team of yours would never go in vain ever again. Because it’d all be directed to him. All that “ Good job! ” and “ You were amazing back there! ” and “ Don’t be scared! I’ll be right here rooting for you! ” would finally be given to someone who actually deserves it.

  All you had to do was see what he had to offer and baby— oh baby , how you'd love him. No force on Earth could have prevented Bokuto from making you his.

  So it's all the more sobering now that Bokuto’s witnessed that the said force turned out to be him of all people. And what he could actually give you was a few stumbling lines and compliments that didn't even make any sense (“ Y-your face smells nice ” for example)— all (preferably) uttered a few feet away from you. 

  The others teased him for looking like a jilted witch casting a spell on an indifferent lover. “What are you? Speaking in tongues or something? Is the Great Horned Owl that desperate?” they poked at him. He didn’t mind them before, but now he’s not so sure.

  " Tone it down, okay? " Kaori had reminded him again earlier this afternoon. That stern talking-to from their manager was an ice-cold bucket of water that doused what’s left of his optimism. 

  But, tone what down? What , exactly, is left to tone down?

  He couldn’t even talk to you without losing his ability to string coherent words together, let alone get close to you. Eye contact, too, he’d deliberately restrained himself from doing (if only you knew how much this is hurting him!) and not just because he’d been deemed a complete and utter creep. 

  Bokuto couldn’t look you in the eye ever since that incident.

  “ She’s helping the other girls carry their stuff to the other room, I saw them just now ,” Yamamoto had discreetly passed on as soon as he woke up from a terrible concussion. “And if you want to redeem yourself, my friend, after that humiliating performance, you’d better go out there and lend a hand. ”

  Because Yamamoto, being the love expert that he proclaimed he was, told him, “ Look, I feel for you. But it’s simple. You just gotta show her what you’re made of. That you’re a man she can depend upon, ” Bokuto then persevered to follow through.

  Only for him to be met by an empty room with bits of crumbled plaster scattered across the floor. And your bag in the furthest corner just...lying there.

  Maybe you’d forgotten about it. Maybe you were too busy catering to your friends' needs that you'd forgotten about yourself.

  Either way, Bokuto promises that it wasn’t on purpose. 

  Bokuto had good intentions, really! He just wanted to take the bag with him so he could give it to you, is all! It wasn’t his fault that some of your stuff was peeking through the half-opened zipper. It’d already been in that state when he saw it. 

  And- and it’s not his fault that he adores you too much. 

  Bokuto reminds himself as much as he propped his forehead against the bathroom wall, water from the shower pouring against the taut muscles on his back as he wrapped your underwear around his cock. 

  The baby pink fabric, every inch of it soiled now over the days that he's used it, rubbed  against his balls when he began fondling them, his other hand caressing his nipples, rubbing and pinching at the peaks until they stiffened between his calloused fingers.

  His cock grew hard and heavy in his hand as he started pumping into his fist, fucking your soaked panties until precum dripped from slit.

  And with nobody else in the shower room, Bokuto allowed himself to grunt and curse and call out your name, digging his nails into his skin until it stung and made him want to cry.

  "Make me cum, princess," he whined, shutting his eyes to watch you on your knees, fingers between your legs as you looked up at him, never taking your eyes off of him even as you took his cock down your throat.

  "Please, please ," Bokuto groaned,"Please let me cum."

  Here, you don't turn away nor brush him off without even saying anything. Here, you call him your baby and you chuckle as you ask him, " Good boys deserve to cum, don't they? "

  He bit his lip, pressing his cheek against the freezing tile. "Mmhmm, I-I've been-" Bokuto moaned, feeling himself creep closer and closer, the pleasure at the pit of his stomach building, "I've been so fucking good for you."

  The contrast of your pretty little underwear around the thick veins of his cock made his head spin. And as he squeezed his shaft tighter, Bokuto knew that he did, in fact, deserve so much more.

  Because he's endured so much just for you. Now, it's time to get what he's due. 

Scouring high and low for a pair of cotton panties that have seen better days wasn’t how you wished you’d celebrate the last night with your newfound friends. 

  Yuki had advised that you abandon the ratty, old thing (though you did say it wasn't; ratty, that is) and leave it here as a parting gift— a mark of your impact on their lives, if you will— but you’d quickly laughed her off and set out to find it. She was drunk, anyway.

  Although, so were you. If not, then just a tiny, itsy, bitsy, bit tipsy.

  You hiccuped, giggling as the sound echoed through the poorly-lit hallway. The world was spinning beneath you and you prayed that it wasn’t worse for poor Yuki, having chugged half of that horrid concoction. 

  Kaori almost threw her out of the window after that stunt. Mako scoffed at her for being an arrogant ass. The girls who weren’t drinking sat back and chose to enjoy the unfolding chaos (while also being kind enough to be on the lookout).

  And you...well...right now you’re on the verge of breaking down as you make your way to the shower room. 

  Mostly because you’re just realizing that you might never see them again if your team doesn’t survive the Inter High. Partly because you’ve been dumb enough to not notice that you’ve been missing an underwear for a couple of days now. 

  God, it's so ridiculous. You're ridiculous. You're glad that you went on your own and rejected their offer to accompany you. Imagine if they saw you like this:

  Oscillating between sobs and strained laughter while swaying on your feeble legs; the very picture of a lunatic out in the streets in the middle of the night.

  You only hoped that you're not scaring the living daylights out of that guy who probably just went out of the boys' room to pee. Maybe you have already spooked him, with how still he's gotten.

  Cupping your palms around your mouth, you saw fit to save his sanity and cried, "Heyyyy! I'm not- hic - a ghost!" 

  "Oh!" you gasped, raising a pointing finger to shush yourself, "Oh, yeah, sorry, shhh-" 

  He didn't run the other way screaming and crying, which was good, instead he approached you hurriedly, making you squint to get a better look at him.

  "Koyama?" you whispered, struggling to recognize the tall boy with a sturdy build, his navy blue hoodie casting a shadow on his face. It didn't help that your eyes were doing something funny, as if they were busted camera lenses that went uncontrollably in and out of focus.

  "Good evening, my dear! I daresay you're looking quite bur- burl- blurry tonight."

  You cackled, immediately following your greeting with a slurred apology.

  "Why- Why are you still- um- up?" he asked. And before you could volley him with a question pointing to his weirdly different voice, he brought his head down to sniff at you. "Wait- have you b- are you drunk ?"

  "What! No! Of course not!" You pouted and airily slapped his cheek, drawing a lopsided grin out of you when his skin glowed pink, bright enough to light up the entire place. It was so remarkably adorable that it made you squeal and pinch both cheeks, rocking his face as you did.

  "Look at our big boy!" A sheepish, almost disbelieving chuckle shook his large chest as you resumed your baby talk, your grabby hands bringing his face towards you.  "Who would've thought that our stwong, wowdy ace could bwush wike so? And what's with this siwwy hoodie, huh? Where did you get this, bunnycakes? I've never seen you wear this before!"

  You wondered, also, why and how his jet black hair turned pallidly gray over the few hours you hadn't seen him. You even brushed the mildly damp locks out of his forehead, unsure if they're even real as you tried to right your smudged vision.

  And you wanted to blame it all on the alcohol.

  It's the reason for that dramatic change in his tone and manner of speaking and hair color and...those eyes .

  The very same pair that followed you everywhere, sometimes even in your sleep.

  "You love me, after all," he breathed, the statement a thin sheet of glass that could blow into smithereens at just the wrong response.

  That had been enough to drain the inebriation out of your body. Like being branded, you pulled away from Bokuto with a harsh curse.

  "I- I have to go," you said. "Sorry, I thought you were Ko- my teammate."

  But Bokuto had already laid hold of your arm with no intent of letting go.

  "Stay!" Bokuto called out, repeating it with please and listen despite your outcries, shouting for Kaori and Yuki and Mako and Shigeru and Takami and Coach and Koyoma and anyone, help me, anyone.

  Until he tugged you to his chest, wrapping himself around you and turning his entire body into a concrete prison as he fervently told you, "I love you. I love you so much ever since the first time I saw you and I know, I know you feel the same so if it's the distance that's keeping you from me I can come to you I'll follo-"

  "Nothing's keeping me from jackshit!" you gritted out. "I don't love you! I don't even care about you!"

  He didn't say anything to that. 

  Bokuto had gone quiet. It wasn't only until he nuzzled your neck, pressing his face snugly down the crook, that you decided to kick him with all your strength, breaking yourself free as your heart thundered out of your chest.

  You didn't look back.

  You dashed through the long, endless hallway with the air in your lungs dangerously running low and keeping you from screaming.

  But the remnants of the alcohol were lead that weighed your feet to the ground, betraying you further by morphing your surroundings into a hazy, dizzying scape. You teetered and wobbled, desperate to reach that staircase that will lead you out of this floor, but each step that you took was not fast enough, not nimble enough, as if you’re wading through knee-deep water. 

  And before you know it the monster has caught up and is ready to pounce from right behind you.

  “Get your hands off me!” you wailed as Bokuto heaved you by the waist and carried you over his shoulder. 

  The sudden upending of your world was so nauseating, you didn’t even notice that he’d already taken you to an almost pitch black classroom, its heavy curtains drawn together and the empty chairs and tables pushed to the side. 

  His large, sprawling hand was gripping your ass, your stomach lurching when you felt him caress it. Yet that didn’t deter you from hitting whichever part of him that your knuckles and feet could touch, ignoring the trail of your own spit that dripped on your face as you howled and thrashed and fought to keep yourself together because no one was hearing you.

  What’s left for you, now? Your captor was so strong, much stronger than you, that even when he tripped on his toes, Bokuto was able to catch himself and drop you on the nearest table in just a single breath. 

  “Stop fighting me..!” he panted, holding you down as he knelt before you. “I’m not gonna hurt you! I- ow! Don’t-”

  Bokuto’s grip on your wrists was unbudgeable. So, you didn’t miss the chance to bite him when he covered your mouth with his palm. Teeth chattering, you broke the tough flesh, sunk them sharply until the taste of salt and iron flooded your tongue.

  You expected that it would push him away. Give you the leverage to escape.

  That turned out to be a mistake.

  His honey-gold eyes glinted as he stared deep into yours. Every hair on your body stood on end when the corners of his lips slowly lifted, eyes still fixed on you as he released a bubbly, childlike laughter.

  “I've always wanted to do this to you," he sighed giddily. 

  The helplessness chipped at your insides bit by torturous bit when all you could do was rock the table with your flailing, while Bokuto had already crouched lower— low enough to pull the hem of your thin shorts with his teeth.   

  He watched you weep with a sickening display of dejection, like he's some dog that's been shoved around by his master.

  "Please don't cry," Bokuto whined, peppering soft kisses all over the insides of your thighs then licking off the beads of sweat that covered the goosebumps. 

  You’re not giving up. 

  You couldn’t give up.

  You pushed and gnawed and tore skin that you’re sure every inch of his palm is littered with fresh bruises, but this only seemed to encourage Bokuto, drawing out his drugged out moans as he spat on your clothed cunt, drool leaking down to your folds before he lapped at the wet spot. The moistened fabric scratched and rubbed against your clit to the point of quivering and writhing in his clutch. 

  “Oh, I know , baby,” Bokuto murmured, using the tip of his tongue to flick at the swollen nub. “I’ll make you feel real good soon.”

  Shaking your head, the unwiped tears gathering around your eyelids dropped to his long, calloused fingers. And you wanted to screech, to tell him to go to hell as he swirled his tongue all over your embarrassingly slick hole.

  No, you wanted more than that. 

  You wanted to drive your bare hands into his chest.

  But that’s not what you did, is it?

  When Bokuto finally removed his hand from your mouth, what slipped past your lips wasn’t the sound of a woman ready to kill. Instead, you sounded like a little girl begging to be carried home. And that hadn’t been the part that scared you, really.

  It was the fact that no matter how much you tried to scream, nothing was coming out.

  “L-let me go,” you wheezed, your voice cracking. “Or- or else.”

  “Or else?” Bokuto replied, eliciting a gasp from you as he sniffed your throbbing, wet cunt. “Look at me, princess.”

  “ Look at me ,” he repeated pleadingly, frustration giving his tone a rough edge, as he brought the hand that once suppressed your attempts to call for help to skim past your thigh and stroke the sole of your feet. “Just this once. See me.”

  You kept your eyes closed, even as he kissed your toes and brought it down to his crotch, forcing you to dig your heel into the bulge jutting out. He rocked his hips, gyrating slowly, his cock hardening under your feet, as he whimpered into your leg.

  “Please, please fuck me, please ,” Bokuto mewled. “I’ll do any- anything for you.”

  Profanities rushed out of you, but no one could hear them. Not even you. Perhaps that's why he didn’t flinch when he lugged you down to straddle on his lap.

  “Use me, baby,” he whispered, grinning wide as he snaked his other hand to your back and dug his nails around your nape, laying on his back and taking you with him as he did, your tits crushed to his chest. 

  With your arms dying in his grip, Bokuto easily stripped his pants along with his boxers. Violent trembles wracked your body as he dragged your pussy along his thick shaft, back and forth, your damp panties riding up every time he thrusted upwards.

  His hot breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine as he giggled lowly, “Wanna cum inside you so fucking bad . Will you let me, hm? Please let me.”

  Of course you didn’t want to. It’s not like you’d stop struggling, either. It’s just that Bokuto would never listen to you. Even when he whimpered and babbled, “You don’t want to- fuck, your pussy’s all nice and wet - oh, you don’t want to? That's okay, that’s okay, baby,” Bokuto still slipped his cock inside your underwear.

  It slid past your lips up to your clit. And you’d never hated yourself more in your entire life when all you could do was stay limp and cry as the fat tip finally nudged your twitching hole.

  “No, no, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck, “It’s just the head- just the head.”

  As Bokuto groaned and rutted against you, all you wished for, in that moment, was for dawn to peek through the curtains and signal the end of this torment. But, still it went on with Bokuto stretching you open.

  And as he split you in half, you detachedly realized that you were right.

  This place did eat you alive.

[rabbitindisguise]

I pulled all the quotes I could find on heroism from the locked tomb books (including NTN) so let me know what you all think ^^

"Duck," called Camilla.

Camilla had somehow propped herself on the arm with the mangled shoulder wound, which was in no condition for propping. Her good arm was up behind her head, holding the blade of her knife. Gideon ducked. The knife whistled over the top of Gideon's head in a flashing blur and buried itself in Cytherea's upper back.

This time Cytherea screamed. She went stumbling away from Ianthe's prone form, [cut for length].

The Lyctor turned her head and coughed miserably into the crook of her elbow. Then she looked at the knife, wondering at it. She turned her head to look at Camilla and Harrow and Gideon. She sighed pensively and ran one hand through her curls again.

"Oh no," she said, "heroics."

[Cut for length].

"An inadequate Lyctor," said Cytherea, as thought giving Gideon and Camilla a hot tip on stain removal, "still makes a perfect power source . . . an everlasting battery."

She stood back up and wiped her mouth with the lack of her hand. Then she began walking toward Gideon: calm, almost insolent in her lack of aggression. This was somehow much scarier than if she'd talked forward with a hateful glare and rill of mad laughter.

Gideon planted herself before Camilla and the unconscious body of her adept and held her sword aloft. They were alone in the back area of the courtyard: a little area not yet buried in rubble or tilled up by the titanic light between two immortal sorcerers. Dead trees bowed overhead. Gideon stood behind the iron fence that had once protected some herbaceous border, as though its bent, bowed spikes would be good for anything other than throwing herself down on as one last fuck-you salute.

Camilla was huddled in a corner, now standing upright—that was probably her own last fuck-you salute—but her wounded arm hung uselessly. She had lost a lot of blood. Her face was now pallid olive.

"Ninth," said the Sixth impatiently. "Get out of here. Take your necromancer. Go."

- Gideon the Ninth, 422-423

"Lady," said Ortus, and, sorrowfully: "Forgive me. Nonius has heroic standing among the priests and anchorites of our House," he added to the others. "Perhaps I do him wrong by making a poesy of the sacred mysteries."

"I never realized that Nonius had passed into cult worship," Said Pent.

"He has not," said Harrowhark shortly, and then was forced to admit: "Or, at least, the idea is passé."

"Heroes are passé, you see," explained Ortus with heavy sadness.

She did not murder him. It was a very near thing.

- Harrow the Ninth

From the end of the table, his white-ringed eyes still bent down upon his papers, the Emperor said quietly: "His was the action of a hero."

"Oh, but the problem is heroes always die," said Augustine, who was worrying an edge of tablecloth between long and elegant fingers. "You can't even really pronounce one a hero until they die heroically. I thought the downward assault was a good wheeze when you two first came up with it, [Gideon], but we know now that the last push against a Beast has to be sudden and conclusive. I'd rather have fought nine more hours and have Ulysses sitting here right now, inciting a sexy party, than have watched him wrestle that thing out of sight."

- Harrow the Ninth, page 336

[Gideon] pierced her heart on a railing because she thought I would use her to become a Lyctor. I will spit in the face of the first person who tells me she committed suicide; she was in an impossible situation, and she died trying to escape it. She was murdered, but she maneuvered her murder to let me live."

His face was very sad: a wistful, light sadness, not the ponderous sadness that he wore like his sacramental paint.

"What is better?" he asked. "An ignoble death by someone else's hands, or a heroic death by one's own? How should it be written? If the first—that she was cut down by an enemy—I would feel such hate for the enemy . . . If the second—an ugly death at her own devising—who, then, would be left for me to hate? Who does the poet judge? The eternal problem."

"Ortus, this is not a poem," she said.

"I think you must hate her," he said, and she thought she knew what he meant, until he said: "Don't. If there is anything I know about young Gideon . . . if there was anything in her that I too understood . . . it is that she did everything deliberately."

Very little in Harrowhark's life had embarrassed her up until that moment. She had been caught naked in front of a stranger. She had been kissed by a half-drunk Ianthe the First. She had admitted to God her apocalyptic transgressions, and been gently told that she did not know herself. She had been outplayed by Palamedes Sextus, outgunned by Cytherea the First, undone by Gideon Nav.

None of that humiliated her so viscerally as her strangled, bellowing, unchecked shriek now, a child's cry that whipped every head in that busied room round in her direction: "She died because I let her! You don't understand!"

Ortus dropped his book. He rose from the chair. He put his arms around her. The dead cavalier held her with a quiet, unassuming firmness; he petting her hair like a brother, and he said, "I am so sorry, Harrowhark. I am so sorry for everything . . . I am sorry for what they did . . . I am sorry that I was no kind of cavalier to you."

- Harrow the Ninth, page 400

The page fell over her thumb. On the second page—much fresher—Harrow read:

THE ONLY THING OUT CIVILIZATION CAN EVER LEARN FROM YOURS IS THAT WHEN OUR BACKS ARE TO THE WALL AND OUR TOWERS ARE FALLING ALL AROUND US AND WE ARE WATCHING OURSELVES BURN WE WE RARELY BECOME HEROS.

She opened her mouth to ask her dead second cavalier a question about her dead first cavalier—a pattern that was starting to look less like tragedy and more like carelessness—but downstairs, Abigail was saying:

"Harrowhark? Ortus? If you are reading, we might want to move."

- Harrow the Ninth, page 403

Pyrrha said, "Keep Camilla home tonight. I'll call it quits for the cigs."

Palamedes said, "Do you know she has a half sister? Did she tell you? It's not my secret to tell. They're quite fond of each other. Camilla's ten years younger. Kiki's a member of the Oversight Body, junior fellow. She was one of the group that came to negotiate with Ctesiphon Wing."

"I didn't know that, no," said Pyrrha.

"Alongside fifteen other of the finest minds of my House," said Palamedes. "Led here by conviction and Camilla's hand. My colleagues, my friends. My family . . . The people they put in cages will be someone's family, someone's friends."

"Keep—Camilla—home—tonight," said Pyrrha. "That is all I am saying. Keep her home. No heroics. I'm not moved by sentiment. Whatever it takes. Don't feel. Just do."

"Tonight I hate almost all of the human race," said Palamedes wearily.

"That's a feeling," said Pyrrha brutally. "Kill it."

- Nona the Ninth

Some thoughts:

there are so many em dashes omg

the most of the content on heroics is in Harrow the Ninth, and relates to Nonius and Gideon's sacrifice

Camilla's second heroic sacrifice was intercepted by Gideon and ultimately fulfilled by Gideon- and according to Augustine, heroes can only be pronounced heroes on their death (which echoes the homestuck principal of godtier deaths to be "just or heroic" and might foreshadow John's "just" death)

After defeating Wake, Nonius went to fight the resurrection beast and was (on the account of third parties) successful and it's unclear if he died (again) or if he's still a ghost

Augustine says that he would have preferred "a sexy party" and fighting a resurrection beast for nine more hours over watching him "wrestle that thing out of sight" even though it gave them more information- which implies heroics is fundamentally self sacrificing and not worth the death of the person in question

Harrow deems Gideon's death a murder, possibly even at her own hand, and Ortus is undecided if a death at someone else's hands or a heroic one is better (especially in a storytelling sense)

[inkykeiji]

i’ll keep you in mind, from time to time

cactus anon said: had a little dream about daddy tomura, but it's when his princess gets sick... like very sick. seemingly out of nowhere. we know he's always cautious about your health and well being, so this is odd to say the least. you could have got it simply from getting the mail or sitting out on the balcony. well you see, daddy has a very strict rule when he's working - you mustn't disturb him when he's in a vital meeting. and you feel so ill that you know you can't just wait until he's done (whenever that will be - it's hard to tell sometimes). you feel like you have no choice but to ask for help 🥺 and there's not many people daddy would allow in his home to come see you when he's not present. except for... dabi...

genre: angst

notes: is this set in the bmb universe????? tbh, yeah, probably. i wrote this with bmb tomura and bmb dabi in mind (my mind just goes straight to bmb tomura the moment i see daddy tomura ehehe). do you need to read the monster that is bmb before reading this? absolutely not, since it’s technically a prequel of sorts! | title credit: moose blood’s first album ehehehe

warnings: sad boi dabi, very sick reader, it’s implied that tomura has cut her off from everyone she knows, pining, daddy kink, mention of drugs

words: 2.9k

Nestled under Tomura’s fluffy comforter and curled in on yourself in his mammoth bed, your silk babydoll sticks to your damp, sweaty skin, teeth clattering together so violently it’s almost painful, even though your flesh is scalding to the touch. It’s a surprise that Daddy can’t hear it, that incessant clackclackclack echoing down the vacant halls, a surprise he didn’t come running immediately—like he always does—at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers as you burrowed deeper into his mattress.

He must be really, really busy today.

And you know better than to interrupt him when he’s really, really busy.

But—But it all hurts so much, head pounding with such vigour you can barely see straight, muscles aching and weak, a loud whine escaping your lips as you roll over, groping around in the blankets for your phone. It’s too bright when you finally locate it, eyes squinting and a hiss catching in your throat as you bring the screen too close to your face, quickly scrolling through your contacts in a desperate attempt to find someone—anyone—to come to your rescue.

You know you should wait. Really, you should. Your Daddy is jealous, and protective, and possessive, and there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he’s going to be upset when he finds out that you called someone else to take care of you.

But—But it could be hours until Daddy’s done with his work—sometimes he spends the entire night in that stupid wood-paneled office, and you can’t risk it. It’s terrifying, this nightmarish illness that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, with its sudden onslaught of concerning symptoms worsening by the second, and you’re beginning to wonder if something is seriously wrong, the thought sending icy spikes of anxiety shooting through your veins.

No, you can’t risk it—you can’t wait.

A thumb hovers over your mother’s name in hesitance, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider. Her place isn’t necessarily close, but she’s the relative that’d be able to reach you the fastest—even so, it’d take her at least two hours to get here, and that’s assuming there’s no traffic on the roads. But she isn’t exactly fond of your boyfriend, and the last thing you want to deal with while feeling like you’re dying is a fight between the two of them. You know how nasty they can get.

So you keep scrolling, fingers halting for a second time as your best friend’s name flies past your eyes.

It’s been months since you last spoke—Tomura being the topic of your last conversation, of your last fight. You’re spending too much time with him, they had claimed, eyes cloaked in a glossy sheen of tears as they frenetically searched your face, almost begging you to understand. It’s unhealthy! It’s unnatural! They had said with a vicious shake of their head. He has you in a fucking chokehold, can’t you see that?

Eyelids squeeze shut tightly against the familiar burn of tears, their last few words echoing through your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull and reverberating, louder and louder and louder—

No. You can’t do this right now, your head throbbing in retaliation, a painful lump nestling into the column of your throat. It’s too much, too much, and you don’t want to think anymore, can feel that neediness rooting deep at the core of your body, a longing to just be taken care of and nurtured, frantically scrolling back up as urgent eyes search the names blurring by on the screen. A gasp falls from your lips as his name whirs by, fingers scrambling to scroll back down and find it again.

Dabi.

Daddy trusts Dabi, doesn’t he? Daddy likes Dabi, right? They’re friends, aren’t they? Out of all of the people you just scrolled through, Dabi is evidently the best choice, the most correct choice, is he not?

Your thumb trembles a little as it levitates over his name—you don’t know him well, have only spoken a mere handful of words to him in the six months you’ve been dating Tomura, but...but he appears to be your only hope.

His voice is rough when he answers, abruptly cutting through the dull second ring, evident surprise bleeding into it when you whimper out your name, mumbled against the receiver. He regains his composure a moment later, tone hardening as he asks you why the fuck you thought it’d be a good idea to call him, of all people.

Tears blur your vision, sniffling a little as you explain the situation, frail voice breaking as you tell him about how you’re terrified you’re dying, and Daddy’s too busy, and last time—last time you interrupted him you got in real big trouble, and he’s your only hope, you need him, and please, Dabi?

And God, he’s chuckling into your ear, low and hoarse and inspiring a flock of butterflies to soar through your stomach, a sensation you swear is from whatever sickness has infected your body. You’re so lucky you’re fucking cute.

He hangs up directly after that, doesn’t spare you a second to respond, arriving at in penthouse in ten minutes flat, and you’re not sure you’ve ever been happier to see his tattooed face.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes when he sees you, curled up beneath the fluffy comforter, strands of hair shining with sweat and sticking to your skin. Pace quickening, he places his knuckles against your forehead, your sore eyes slipping shut at the cool relief his skin provides. A sharp hiss slips through his clenched teeth and he yanks his hand back, a soft whimper getting caught in your throat as you try to follow his touch.

A head of inky tousled hair shakes back and forth as he hastily leaves Tomura’s bedroom. Glass and ceramic clink together, the sound echoing down the hall, as Dabi roots around in the kitchen, swearing softly to himself when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

A cup of water is in his hands when he returns a few moments later, aspirin clutched in his other fist, still muttering under his breath about the thermometer not being where it’s supposed to be, and why the hell doesn’t Shigaraki have any cold and flu meds like, at all?

Perching on the edge of Tomura’s bed, he acts as if it’s such an inconvenience to him, as if he’s so annoyed that you’re sick and needy, but he really doesn’t hide it well enough. Because you see through his thinly veiled act even in your inebriated state—see the concern in his sapphire eyes as his eyebrows push together just a little, a tiny crease forming between them, see the way the corners of his lips keep pulling downwards with every single one of your pathetic little noises. A heavy sigh leaves his chest a moment later, body shuffling towards you, cobalt eyes still saturated with worry.

A large hand pets your sweaty hair, soft and gentle as the other tilts a glass of full water towards your lips, Dabi’s deep voice startlingly soft as he orders you to drink, princess.

And he doesn’t mean for the nickname to slip out, tells himself he only used it because he’s so accustomed to hearing Tomura use it—accustomed to hearing Tomura overuse it—panic’s sharp claws gripping his heart the moment it leaves his lips. But you seem too sick, too delirious, to notice or care, obediently swallowing the pills just like he told you to.

Good girl.

The praise just slips out too, those two simple words falling from his lips unconsciously, involuntarily, uncontrollably, and he chooses to focus on the fact that you drank the entire glass instead of the cute noise you make in response to his commendation, a trembling hand placing the empty cup on the oak bedside table.

The mattress dips as he prepares to get up, to move away, to put some much needed, necessary distance between the two of you, but a small, clammy hand catches his forearm, his entire body freezing in shock, stiff and still like a marble statue.

Sapphire eyes snap to the tiny hand gripping his arm, hyper-aware of the heat radiating off the sticky palm and seeping into his skin, and then dart to your face, wide and frenetic. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? he wants to snap, words turning to ash on his tongue. Because, Christ, you look like you’re about to fucking cry, staring at him through your lashes with those terrified eyes, begging him softly, shyly, not to leave.

“I’m not leaving,” he says with a roll of his eyes, yanking his arm free from your weak grasp, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grope the air for him again. “I’m 90 percent sure you have a dangerously high fever—there’s no way I’m going to leave you on your own until your asshole of a boyfriend is done doing whatever the fuck he’s doing. I’m just gonna move to that chair over there—”

“No!” you gasp, coughing on the word in your haste to reach for him again. “Please, stay, here,” you look down at the bed pointedly, gazing drifting back to his a moment later. “H-Here, with me,”

Dabi isn’t stupid. He knows Tomura will be seeing red the moment those scarlet eyes meet ice blue when he re-enters his bedroom from a day full of sifting through documents and yelling on conference calls. But when your boss’s plaything, his most prized possession, calls you in tears blubbering about how she’s sure she’s about to fucking die, well—coming by to take care of her is the lesser of two evils, don’t you think? Really, Tomura should be thanking him.

But Tomura returning from a day full of sifting through documents and yelling on conference calls to meet ice blue in his bed, next to said prized possession? Well, that’s a different story entirely.

He’s frozen as he mulls over it, your blunt nails digging soft, tiny crescents into his flesh, little marks that will fade only a few moments after you let go.

“I can’t do that,” he says softly, almost regretfully, and his tone of voice surprises him, startles him, scares him. Clearing his throat, he steels himself, pulling free from you again. “It isn’t right,”

“Please, Dabi,”

He’s sure you don’t miss the sharp, sudden intake of air sucked through his mouth when those two words leave your lips. He’s positive of it, because then you do it again.

“Please, Dabi,”

Your voice is softer this time, and the look he gives you is nearly heartbreaking, the perfect picture of a man being torn apart from the inside out, tortured and beautiful all at once.

“I—”

“Just until I fall asleep?” You try to bargain, bottom lip pushing out into an involuntary pout. Crystal eyes hold yours for a second longer before he sighs, chest heaving with the force of it.

He isn’t happy about it, about his apparent inability to say no to you, grumbling about it the entire time—you’re such a little fucking brat, y’know that? and only until you fall asleep, understand?—as he settles back against Tomura’s stupidly massive headboard, body going rigid and words hitching in his throat the moment you latch onto one of his thighs, nuzzling your face into his hip.

And really, he should tell you to get the fuck off of him. He should push you away, scold you for such behaviour, remind you that it’s wrong. He should. He wants to.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can’t.

The realization has his heart pounding against his rib cage, breath stilling in his lungs and then accelerating, escaping his nostrils in short, quick huffs, lithe fingers curling in the cotton sheets underneath him. Don’t be a fucking coward, his inner voice growls at him, berating himself for such disgusting weakness. It doesn’t matter if she’s fucking sick, that isn’t an excuse!

Because that’s why he can’t find his voice, right? That’s why his fingers are twitching with the need to comb through your hair and caress you jaw, right? That’s why your cheek, burning hot through his black jeans as it snuggles into his upper thigh, sends a whole slew of unfamiliarity—excitement and terror and all sorts of things he doesn’t know how to explain, can’t begin to explain—rushing through his body, right?

Yes, that’s why. Of course that’s fucking why.

The thoughts cycle through his mind like a mantra, as if repeating them enough times, branding them into the tissues of his very brain itself, will make them true.

That’s why he allows you to sleep on him. That’s why his stomach flutters at the way your tiny fingers curl in the denim of his jeans as they readjust, pulling him closer. That’s why it feels like a zap of electricity buzzes through his veins as you murmur his name in your sleep, whimpering a little as your leg hitches over his calf.

That’s why. He’s sure of it.

His head snaps up the moment the double doors fly open, and he’s never been more relieved to see his boss’s face in his life.

Those crimson eyes scan the room twice—the first time quick, frantic and furious, the second slow, cold and calculating—before they finally connect with cobalt, gaze blazing.

“Care to explain to me what the fuck is going on here?”

“Oh thank God,” Dabi breathes, words slipping from his lips subconsciously, body shooting off of the bed as if the mattress had pierced him, his movements jolting you awake. “She called me,” he snaps before Tomura can speak again, bewildered ruby eyes darting between the two of you. “She’s sick as a fucking dog, boss,” the words are spit between clenched teeth, all those nasty feelings, the feelings delayed by you, no doubt—anger, hate, jealousy, melancholy—finally surfacing, bubbling and boiling in the center of his chest. “She was too scared to interrupt your work, so she called me,”

And Dabi can see it, the vicious jealousy that flashes in Tomura’s eyes, can see the way it makes his jaw clench, makes his molars grind together, makes his breath slice through the air with each sharp exhale through flared nostrils.

“Daddy,” you whine, tears collecting in your eyes, glimmering in the golden sunlight as it sinks beneath the horizon. “D-Daddy, it hurts, it hurts so much,”

All of the derision etched so deeply, so firmly into Tomura’s face melts away in an instant as you make grabby hands for him, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and leaving gleaming trails of salt water in their wake, little half-sobs of that stupid pet name hitching in your throat.

“Now that you are no longer preoccupied,” Dabi draws Tomura’s attention back towards himself, raising an eyebrow in challenge, daring his boss to retaliate. “I’ll be leaving. I trust that you can take care of her now, yeah?”

The words are practically snarled out, almost patronizing in tone, but he doesn’t wait for a response, tucking his head down as a shoulder knocks against his boss while stomping out of the room, heavy boots echoing throughout the quiet penthouse. Eyes squeeze shut tightly as he tries to ignore Tomura’s gentle coos, tries to ignore your cute, pathetic little wails and whimpers of Daddy, Daddy!, tries to ignore the sudden inexplicable ache that sears through his chest, settling deep at the core of his body and throbbing.

He can still smell you on his fucking skin, dainty notes of tiger orchid and toffee clinging to him. He promises himself he’ll hop in the shower and scrub any remnants of you off his flesh the moment he steps foot in his own apartment. He vows to himself that he’ll will this stupid, irksome feeling away—that he’ll rid himself of this irritating worry and unfamiliar concern the moment he gets home.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can’t.

Because no matter how hard he tries, he’s unable to get you out of his head, soft needy whines of his name and perfect pouty lips invading his mind like a virus, infecting all of his thoughts, worming their way through his brain like some sort of invasive parasite.

The whole excursion lasted a mere two hours, even though Dabi was sure he spent the entire day with you in that bed, leaving nearly his entire evening free, just like he wanted.

That is what he wanted, isn’t it?

Of course it is. Of course.

So why does he spend the entire night wondering if you’re okay, if Tomura is taking good care of you, if he called his personal doctor to come check and diagnose you? Why does he waste hours typing out a short text message to send to you, only to erase it and type it out again, over and over and over, chewing his bottom lip raw in the process? Why does he dream of you that night, of soft smiles and glittering eyes, cute giggles and tiny palms burning his skin, gentle whispers and Please, Dabi?

Why?

And he should be shoving these feelings away, should be burying them deep within himself, should be numbing them with soft white powder and pretty white pills, should be forgetting them.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can’t.

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

the way I love you // tom holland x reader

a/n: hello my lovelies! it’s been a little while since I posted something, this piece has fully been kicking my butt but she’s finally here and I hope you like her even if she is a little rough around the edges. as always, love to know what you think. also, I will do an official post regarding rules but from here until I close them my * REQUESTS ARE OPEN * my 10th piece of writing (WHAT) is a requested piece that I'm so excited to share with you guys and the lovely human who requested it, so stay tuned for that but in the meantime, sending all the love, and I hope you're all staying safe out there, please enjoy! x 

word count: 2.1K warning: swearing, lil bit of angst if you squint summary: your best friend tom is helping you move in, but you have a secret and it’s been making things difficult. it’s time to fess up. 

The rain thumped against the windows, droplets eagerly chasing each other to the bottom. The wind whistled, branches reaching out as the trees shook. Soft wispy curtains were pulled tight to keep the cold, stormy weather locked outside. Yet the sounds of cars speeding through the flooded roads could still be heard from the storeys above. The room was almost bare, the orange glow of the streetlights casting warm shadows upon the wooden floorboards. A couple of unopened cardboard boxes were stacked up against one wall. One section of the room was lowly lit with battery-operated soft, twinkling fairy lights and flickering candles. The floor was decorated with a few cosy blankets and pillows. Half eaten cartons of sushi sat abandoned alongside a takeaway pizza box full of cheesy crusts. A laptop balanced precariously on one of the boxes, movie already playing. “Happy move-in day,” a voice whispers, just grazing past your ear. You lay on your front on the floor, wrapped up in an exceptionally fluffy blanket. Your best friend is sat semi cross-legged with his knees up, arms hooked around them, the pair of you only a breath apart. You turn your head lazily in his direction, unable to hide the grin from your face as he cocks his head, mimicking you with his own cheesy smile - noses almost touching. “Thanks for helping me out. Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite?” “Oh, not nearly enough.” He nudges your side, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. You laugh, causing his face to soften at your expression before you focus your attention back to the small screen. Tom frowns slightly as you turn away, keeping his eyes on you as he drinks you in slowly. Your hair was almost completely dry from the rainstorm, and had begun curling at the ends and around your hairline, one piece had fallen across your face which he ached to tuck back into place behind your ear. You had a light flush across your cheeks, eyes shining bright as your face slackened, concentrating on the film. He let out a soft sigh before swallowing, dragging his eyes away from you and back to the movie. **** It hadn’t taken long for you and tom to gravitate closer to each other, a chill making its way through the apartment as you were yet to install a new heating system. You were tucked into his side, head resting gently against his shoulder, breaths synchronising. You shifted slightly, yet Tom kept a protective arm around you. A black screen took over the laptop as the credits started rolling. Tom let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he slowly sat up, bringing you with him. “I better go, it’s late and I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow. Plus you still have unpacking to do…” he teases, collecting some of the empty cartons. You nod, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and gathering it around your waist as you hit pause on the laptop. Stretching your body out, you could already feel the twinges in your back from sitting on the hard floor. The sky had darkened considerably, storm worsening behind the curtains, rain lashing down hard. You glance across at tom, watching as he steps foot into the kitchen, tiding up the rubbish into a neat pile. You bite your lip slightly as you give him a once over. His hair was unruly, eager for a styling from Rachel as it attempted to curl against his forehead, and you could see where he’d been running his hands through it all day. You loved how relaxed he looked in your presence, allowing himself to be slightly unkempt and messy. You watched his mouth and eyebrows twitch animatedly as he cleaned up the kitchen, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie rolled up his forearms. Suddenly he looked up, eyes directly locking with yours and your felt your face flush. “Stop staring at me you div,” he teased, as his face breaking out into a grin, eyes creasing at the sides, still locked with yours. “Calm down movie star, you ain’t all that,” you laugh nervously, internally berating yourself for getting caught in a trance as you pick up the rest of the rubbish and join Tom in the kitchen, blanket slouched around your shoulders and trailing behind you. Truth was, something had changed during the last film Tom had been away filming for. Tiny butterflies would dance in your stomach whenever your phone pinged with a new message or silly photo he’d sent you. You brushed it off at first, thinking you were just missing his company. But by the time he got back, you felt nervous and giddy around him and everything was weird. It wasn’t until one day you found yourself waking up with a start as he began to infiltrate your dreams when you realised you were feeling very differently for your best friend than you’d ever felt before. “This place is nice, but I still don’t know why you turned us boys down though? Harrison said he asked before I came back and you said no?” he wondered aloud, miming an arrow through his heart as the pair of you make your way downstairs. You laugh at his antics but wrap the blanket that little bit tighter around yourself, finding the floor of your building suddenly extremely interesting. “Don’t tell me you’re sick of us lot already? We’ve been together too long for you to ditch us all now.” He gives you a little nudge in the arm with his elbow. You took a deep breath, shaking your hair out of your face. “I’ll still be round all the time. I literally live on the other side of the park,” you laugh as he pouts, “Tom, it’s not even 20 minutes away.” “Still doesn’t explain why you won’t move in with us?” You sigh, your frustration building. “Just leave it,” you snap, adding a quieter “please” after a beat. There’s a stifling silence as you both walk down the concrete staircase, you twist the mechanical lock on the front door and wait for the buzz as it clicks and opens up to the world outside.

Tom whistles at the torrential storm as he steps outside, trees were bending over, leaves billowing in the wind. The steps up to the building were gathering puddles of water and you could already see the road ahead was beginning to flood.

“Oh my god.”

The pair of you quickly throw the trash into the bin that was sitting at the bottom of some basement level steps.

“Listen, but I only ask because...it’s just, you’ve been a bit off since I came back from Atlanta. if it wasn’t for Harrison telling me he couldn’t make it today, you wouldn’t have even asked me to help you move in? What’s up with that?” he asks, standing behind you, shielding you from as much of the rain as he could.

“I just thought you’d be busy, y’know. What with being away for so long.”

“And? It’s not like that’s ever stopped you before. Seriously though, did I do something wrong? Did the boys? Because you can tell me.”

“Tom it’s nothing. Seriously, quit it.” Avoiding his stare, you shake your head and turn on your heel in an attempt to push the door back open but it stays firmly shut. You twist the handle multiple times as it jangles in response, remaining firmly locked. You freeze in immediate panic, feeling your pockets for your keys which were still sitting on your kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, no. No fucking way.”

“What? What is it?” He reaches a hand over your shoulder and gives the door a shove, “Is it stuck?”

“No tom, it’s locked! The wind must’ve closed it! I’ve left my apartment open and the keys are on the kitch – fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey it’s fine. Calm down. Hey, maybe if you lived with us we wouldn’t be having this problem…” he joked, pulling off his hoodie as thunder rumbled in the distance, the rain bouncing down onto the two of you.

“Now is really not the time Tom!” You exclaim, feeling your heart-rate spike, anxious about being locked out on your very first day living alone.

“Would you calm down, we’ll sort it. Your doors just unlocked, it’s not like you left it wide open.” 

“If you hadn’t been asking so many stupid questions, I wouldn’t have forgotten my keys in the first place!”

“Really?! You’re blaming me for caring about you? Alright listen, I just wanted to know what’s going on with you. I know you, and I know when something’s wrong! Why won't you just tell me?!”

“Oh my god, fine! You want to know so badly? It’s you, okay!” You shout, whirling around now standing chest to chest, you could feel your eyes burning with the tears you were fighting back, “You’re the reason I can’t move in with you guys! Because I hoped that this feeling would go away. If I avoided you it would go away and things would be normal and nothing would change. But that’s not the case!” You gulped in a breath, refusing to look into the deep brown eyes that were staring at you, so wide and confused, “That’s not the case, because every time I’m with you I feel like my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest. I get these stupid knots in my stomach whenever you so much as send me a fucking text. Sitting together in there side by side, alone together, casually watching a film and all I can think about is god, I wish he’d just kiss me! I don’t want to fall in love with you because this,” you gesture between the two of you, “what we are, it’ll all be gone and I’ll have ruined everything. And I can’t Tom. I can’t deal with that. So, there you go. I’m in love with you, and I hate myself for it. So, what? Are you happy now?! Does that clear everything up for you!”

Tom froze.

Your chest heaves, the tears that you let fall mixing in with the rain, leaving you sniffling. You push your soaking wet hair out of your face, roughly wiping your cheeks as you turn and hit the buzzer for the apartment block, banging your fist on the main door. 

“C’mon!”

Tom stood silently, still frozen outside your apartment entrance, the rain so heavy it was bouncing off of his clothes. His curls were flattened, droplets dripping from his hair, his nose, his eyelashes. his t-shirt was already drenched by the rain, fabric clinging to his frame. He blinks, once, twice then once more, his jaw unclenching.

He reaches forwards, fingertips lightly caressing your hand, his featherlight touch pulsating through your entire body.

You tear your hand away from him, a gasp letting loose, “Don’t.”

He perseveres, pulling you round, more forcefully this time until you are nose to nose again.

Your body shivers in the cold, wet air as you stare at the ground. Tom’s firm grip around your wrists.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as you exhale breathily.

He lets go of you, your hands curled into small fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

One hand lifts your chin to his level, his thumb softly collecting the mixture of tears and rain from beneath your eyes and brushing them away.

“I wish you’d just told me. It would’ve saved you all this hurt.”

His left hand comes up and tucks the soaking wet pieces of hair that has been whipping around your face in the wind gently behind your ear. Stroking the stray strands. 

Your teary, glistening eyes connect with his. They were alive with such care and concern. Before you knew it, that feeling was back in the pit of your stomach, pulling and twisting in knots as you stared into the eyes of the boy you loved. 

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering when all of a sudden, the hand that had brushed your tears away cradles the side of your head, bringing your faces together, the other hand lightly fluttering to your waist, pulling you in closer. 

The rain continued to fall, the two of you completely oblivious as your lips brush, foreheads pressed together. It’s soft and slow, almost uncertain at first before immediately intensifying, the two of you pushing your bodies against each other. You take a breath as he strokes your cheek and your lips with his thumb, pulling you back in for another gentle kiss with a hand to the back of your head, tangling in your soaking hair as he presses your faces closer together. 

The pair of you pull away, both your chests heaving as you exhale. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask, voice raspy. 

“Because. that’s the way I love you. Not just as a friend. And for years, I sat on it, too scared to ruin what we have.”  You shake your head, as a couple of bubbles of laughter spill from your lips. Tom’s face brightens up quickly, those little creases that you loved so much appearing at the outward corners of his eyes as he whispered, “C’mere. I got you.” 

He pulled you in, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist, his body cold under your hands. You could hear and feel his heartbeat, still in perfect time with your own. He tucked his chin so it was resting atop your head. His arm hadn’t moved, still cradling the back of your head, pressing you ever so carefully into his chest, the two of you just resting in each others embrace as the rain eased up slightly around you.

There was a beat, as you both relaxed into each other. 

“So, I'm glad we solved one problem, but you do know we’re still locked out, right?” Tom says as the pair of you burst out laughing. 

[pynkhues]

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 22

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader      CW: Language, angst, violence, blood A/N: thanks for all the comments/asks xx

Chap 22 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 22: How I'm imaginin' You

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March 15th, 1976

It was just over ten past eleven when they called it a day.

“Night, Reg! I’ll see you later!” Y/N called. Regulus beamed, waving back before scurrying in the direction of the Slytherin common room. For the past week, she had brought him to the small hidden room by the library she found over the winter break. Red and green blankets clashed together on the old couch, pillows and candles, books and even his violin was there. It became their — or mostly his safe place.

She’s kept quiet about their secret meetings, mainly because Regulus seemed so skittish at the mention of other people and simply because he was a Slytherin. It put her into a tricky position considering not many Slytherins were like Regulus — they weren’t nice to those of her blood status. Besides, house rivalry was no joke and honestly, Y/N was confused. What did he mean that he couldn’t be seen with her?

The bitter cold began to subside as April neared. The full moon had risen, nearing its peak as she walked through the empty corridors, way past curfew. Distantly, she could hear footsteps becoming louder but made no move to hide once the student came into view with no prefect or Head Boy or Girl pass. That was until the hunched figure seemed to drift closer, coming into her direct line of view. Once they passed, the student knocked into shoulder roughly, making Y/N stagger back into the rough jagged wall.

Crinkles formed in her skin, frowning. They knocked into her purposely. The first thing she took notice of was their tie, a Slytherin. Of course. But when her eyes continued to drift up, she wasn’t surprised to see who it was: Snape.

“Watch where you’re going,” he says, a nasty leer on his face.

“You better watch yourself. Must be obsessed with me.”

“Is that a threat?” It wasn’t, not really, but Snape’s ego is a fragile, fickle thing.

Snape stands taller, his shoulders squaring to appear intimidating but it does nothing but make Y/N’s lip curl up before suppressing it.

“Seems like it to you.”

Seething, his skin becomes an angry blotchy pink. Greasy hair never mattered to her, some people even rocked it but on Snape — anything on him seemed to irk her. His hair seems to stick to his face and an intrusive thought wiggles in and suddenly, she wants to ring it out — see if enough grease would come out so she could cook with it.

But, she readjusted her vision, observing the tight grip he has on his and that he managed to draw without her noticing. On instinct, Y/N slips her out too, her other hand ready to use wandless magic.

She remembers a long time ago, her mother always told her to never start a fight, but to finish it. She guesses that there wasn’t another other option but to listen.

“You’re foul — wretched trollop —” “What did you just call me?!”

Snape jabs a nasty finger into her shoulder before she slaps it down, hard. “You heard me, trollop. Things were so much better when you weren’t around.” His voice drops low, dripping in venom.

“Could say the same thing. I wonder if Lily knows the way you treat women when she isn’t around.” Y/N dangles the threat above his head for leverage. “I bet she would be in for a real shock if I told her.”

There was an ugly pause.

Snape’s nose flares and she would have backed down but since she hadn’t gotten to defend herself last time around Lily, there was no way she wasn’t going to this time.

Snape steps closer in a challenging manner. Eyes burned strong in detest that she even feels it. His hand trembles, going white from how hard he’s gripping his wand. A wild look crosses; he looks feral — like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth.

A spell is already forming on his tongue before she raises her wand, throwing up a shielding spell she learned. A bright blue sheet, in the shape of an invisible dome explodes from the tip of her wand just as Snape shoots a spell. The curse is powerful, making her knees buckle. It was at that moment she realized that maybe she should’ve just walked away. Y/N was good at defensive charms — great — but not at offence charms and clearly, they were among Snape’s specialties.

As shoots another spell, Y/N focuses and puts all of her concentration into the shielding charm — so strong that it pushes Snape back roughly and an item from his pocket slips out, plummeting to the floor. In strong silver letters that made her skin raise with goosebumps, it read: The Dark Arts. The overpowering sensation of revulsion and outrage fuels her, beginning to shake.

“You’re a fucking freak,” she blurts.

It touched a nerve. “Watch it, you dirty little mudbl —”

Most people (and Y/N would include herself with them) like to think of themselves as rational beings; civil, thoughtful, just, benevolent, humane. However, when things ripped at the seams without a given warning, people — we — are no better than wild animals. Even if you don’t know it, there’s an animal inside all of us, waiting to pounce and protect.

Without a beat, filled with pure adrenaline, hate and shock, the protective spell fell and Y/N stormed up to him, drawing her entire arm back as her fist curled into a ball. In a flurry, she delivered a sharp blow as hard as she could in the nose.

There was a loud cracking sound that ricocheted through the corridor, simultaneously, thick blood gushed out of Snape’s nose like a waterfall. It sprayed all over their robes, the ground and covered her hand.

She winced in pain, flicking her wrist a few times, noting the skin splitting around her knuckles deeply. Her ears rang like a whirling fan, radio static, a hissing radiator as Snape stumbled back, a hand shooting up to stop the bleeding. His eyes were filled with tears.

“Call… me that again…” her breathing was ragging and voice shaky, “And we’ll see what else happens.” Before Snape could retaliate, Y/N spun around and dashed off to the Gryffindor common room.

Her footsteps echoed around as she felt her eyes sting with tears but made sure to squeeze her eyes shut. Out of all people, she wasn’t going to cry because of Snape.

She wasn’t a mu — a mudl — she wasn’t that. She was more than that word.

She needed to tell Lily.

Tears were replaced with anger. There wasn’t a single coherent thought that seemed to force its way out.

Before the Fat Lady had time to ask for the password, Y/N shouted it out, nearly ripping the portrait door off. The force resulted in a large — BANG! — then slammed shut and Y/N distantly heard the portrait yell.

She took a deep breath, bending over while a hand clutched her knee. Distracted, it caused her to miss the familiar boy sitting on the opposite side of the room who stood up.

Her fist began to ache once the shock slowly wore off. A quiet, dejected groan slipped out as she stared at her clothes. She must’ve looked insane.

The sound of the wooden floorboards creaked and Y/N peered up. There, dressed in all black clothing was Sirius, staring at her bewildered. His eyes scanned her entire body, noticing the rusty blood staining her white blouse and hand.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” She gritted out defensively. She wasn’t in the mood to be anywhere near Sirius, let alone hear another insult. Without the ability to think rationally, Y/N wondered if she’d had the restraint to not punch him if he said something idiotic.

Sirius’ brow raised, not expecting that response but didn’t bite back. “I — Merlin — what happened to you? Are you okay?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to shield herself and moved towards the stairs. “Like you care.”

“I don’t,” he counters quickly. But he sighed, gravitating towards her and lightly grasped her elbow. Y/N turns around harshly, ripping away from him.

“Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me!”

Sirius’ hands raised, signalling submission; similar to a prey to its predator. “I’m not going to hurt you and I’m certainly not going to let you bleed everywhere! Come, sit — I’ll patch you up.”

She eyed him warily, then closed her eyes. Y/N’s chest rose in irregular intervals, weighing out the pros and cons.

She’s heard that he’s gotten into fights and probably wasn’t lying about knowing how to patch up wounds.

He’s an asshole.

He didn’t like her.

She didn’t trust him

Why would he want to help her?

But the stinging sensation flooded in again. Y/N desperately sought to gauge for any underlying motive but Sirius was unreadable. If anything, his grey quartz eyes weren’t as hardened; more blue bleed in, looking brighter — her heart gave a little thump.

With a nod, Sirius gave a weak smile and led her to the couch closest to the fireplace for light. He told her to stay put, took his jacket, threw it on the couch opposite, then ran up to his dorm and grabbed a medical kit along with a bowl and cloth. Rushing back, Sirius set down his supplies and with a flick of his wand, the bowl was instantly filled with water, his hands sparkling clean.

Body angled to face her while sitting, Sirius gently took her hand and submerged the cloth in water, ringing it out, then diligently worked to clean off the blood.

Why didn’t he just use magic? He wouldn’t have to touch her then…

She burned more from his touch than the wounds themselves. When it came to James or Remus, there wasn’t anything that made her skin tingle or spike in sudden shyness when she touched them. But whenever Sirius was just near, she felt her heart speed up, palms start to sweat and brain go completely blank.

They sat in silence. Every now and then, Sirius would glance up. Only when he had a disinfectant, he flicked his hair out of his face, seeming to be in deep thought and spoke;

“What happened?”

Y/N remained quiet, a faraway look now settled in her eyes. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she broke Snape’s nose. She’s seen what broken noses looked like — she grew up colouring nose and sinus anatomical charts in the O.R gallery while she waited for her mom to finish surgery. She was in deep, deep trouble if Snape were to rattle. Detention, house points, expulsion — a possible criminal assault charge.

Shit.

“Hey, Y/N.” He placed a hand on her knee, the cool metal of his rings seeped through her stockings. That caught her attention. That was the first time he’d ever said her first name. His voice was soft — the softest he’d ever spoken to her before. “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me but I promise I won’t tell a soul. Not even Potter or Evans. It’ll be our little secret.”

She breathed, “I… um —” She stopped and Sirius gave an encouraging squeeze. “Snape, he… he called me a you-know-what and I…” The rest was self-explanatory.

Sirius’s body became stiff. There was a subtle change in his micro-expressions as his jaw tensed, sharpening his features even more. His eyes, which burned with a fiery rage contrasted greatly as he cradled her hand as if she were made out of glass. Sirius huffed, mumbling out ‘thank you for telling me’ and proceeding to clean the wounds. She winced as the cotton pad touched her knuckles, her free hand clutching onto his shirt.

“I know this part’s shit. I’m sorry, sorry…”

She bit down on her bottom lip to prevent pained noises from slipping out. Sirius applied a light magical cream that helps reduce scarring and wrapped gauze around her hand; holding it in place with a magical seal that made it into a light cast. He added a few magical seals along with waterproof charms.

“There.”

She marvelled at his work, he did an amazing job and whatever he did, her pain reduced drastically. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me…” His voice trailed off, a small smile appearing, “Anyone that hates Snviellus is… okay in my books. And what are co-parents for?” He tries to joke. At this, Y/N perks up, a sharp exhale of air forced its way from her lungs; emulating a half-light-hearted scoff.

But soon their smiles disappeared and something strange flashed in Sirius’ eyes. Suddenly, the air around them shifted, becoming tense and enclosed.

Sirius was oddly close to her — since when did they become that close?

Her heart pounded wildly in her ribcage and Y/N wondered if he could hear it over the crackling fire. He’s so close that she could feel his breath fanning her skin. She registered his thumb grazing over the bandage. The warm colour from the fire illuminated his face, different from his usual cool-toned skin. His face looked sharp, more refined than usual. He looked enchanting, so regal and otherworldly without trying to — like a painting.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something but he trails off, leaning closer. His hand trailed up, touching her arm lightly and moved to cup her cheek delicately. The entire time, his eyes trained on her for any glimmer of irritability or discomfort. His thumb began to stroke her skin and she lent into it. It’s large and warm and his touch feels so, so fucking good.

Sirius chooses his next words with caution. “Can I?” He murmurs but the question is clear — louder than any screaming match she had with him. His lips are millimetres away from hers.

In times like these, that Gryffindor bravery was nonexistent.

Y/N’s mind is vacant, internally freaking out but still manages to choke out, “Yes.”

Frozen in place, his eyes flicker from her eyes, then lips, and back to her eyes. He tilts her head back slightly using his hand before it travels to the back of her neck and leans in. But, there’s something in Sirius that hesitates.

The hesitation is too long because a voice could be heard from beyond the portrait and the sound of it swinging open causes them to break apart. She misses the contact already. Sirius stands hastily, wand swishing to clean up the mess around them in a daze. A beautiful blush settles on his face; a hand runs through his hair, rings catching the low light and widens the gap between them. He put his jacket back on.

Y/N’s brain hadn’t caught up yet. Too much happened too quickly. 

“Pads? Where have you’ve been? The moo —” the moment he sees her, his voice draws out, “— ooooony! Moony! He’s waiting for us. Whiskers! Ugh — h-hey!”

Peter fucking Pettigrew, in the flesh.

She makes sure to hide her hand and bloodied shirt from him. “Evening, Pete.”

Sirius coughs awkwardly and clears his throat, Peter doesn’t look suspicious. “Yeah, ugh — right. Sorry,” he takes a pause, eyes drifting momentarily to her and back to Peter, “Was busy with our Puffskein. Let’s go.”

“Night, L/N!” Peter acknowledges. He even sends finger guns.

Y/N is left stunned, watching Sirius leave. The door clicks and her body slackens.

In a haze, she padded into her dorm: quiet and dark, everyone fast asleep. She took a very cold shower, changed into her pyjamas, brushed her teeth and threw out her bloodied robes. Then, she pulls back the curtains around her bed. A floating candle burned brightly as Lily was there, writing in her journal.

“What took you so long?!” Lily chirped, sliding over to give her more room to slip in. Letting the drapes fall shut behind, she hummed in response.

“Puffskein. Oats.” She’ll talk to Lily about Snape another day — that is if Dumbledore doesn’t expel her.

Y/N rolled over to her side, facing away from Lily. The cool pillow did nothing to help chill her heated skin. It’s like she can feel the ghost of Sirius’ fingers graze her cheek still.

Lily babbled — something about Dorcas and Mary inviting them to skate one last time before the ice melted. But it all went in one ear and out the other.

God, she thought, mad at the realization. There was no point in denying it anymore; she’d been doing so for months and clearly, it was fruitless. I like Sirius Black. I really, really like Sirius Black.

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She didn’t get a wink of sleep. Her mind reeled the entire night, replacing the scenarios again and again, analyzing everything he said, his actions — that look on his face. All she thought about was Sirius: his eyes, his smile, his hair, his skin, his hands, his fucking lips — Argh! Sirius was the personification of Firewhiskey and all she wanted to do was drink more of him — and they hadn’t even kissed!

Sirius is arrogant, rude, cold, cat-called her — insulted her! A part of her felt disgusted — disgust how her heart raced wherever the mere thought of him appeared in her mind. Disgusted how her heart leaped whenever he was near. Out of all people, why him?!

She fucking hated Peter Pettigrew right now — or loved him, she wasn’t sure. Maybe he saved her from making a terrible mistake.

Okay, okay! First things first, she had to stop thinking about him! She forced herself to think about something else: Charms — Professor Flitwick — Peter’s grandma in her ‘purple knickers’ — Slughorn — Slughorn in his underwear — yes, that certainly stopped any more lewd thoughts. Her mind and body were at war.

“Rise n’shine, darlings!” Marlene sang in a high-pitched Victorian accent as she tripped the blinds back. Y/N peeked out from the small gap in her curtains, watching Marlene tiredly. Everyone groaned, Dorcas even threw a pillow at her. Y/N, unaffected, blinked and perched herself against the headboard, yawning. “Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!”

“Marls…” Dorcas groaned. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at the clock that hung above their large window, quickly collapsing into bed and dove under the covers. “It’s six in the morning…”

Marlene hopped over and ripped off Lily’s covers only to realize she was with her. She skipped her way over, ripping the drapes back and jumped into her bed. Toulouse hissed, jumping off before Marlene snuggled up to Lily, proding her cheek.

She gave Y/N a once over, “Morning sugar.”

She continued to poke Lily who forced her eyes open, trying to swat at her. Lily flipped over, moving over to Y/N. Marlene rolled her eyes, but a hurt pang flashed her face before she covered it up. Instead, she bellowed, taking hold of Lily’s shoulders and shook.

“EVANS! EVANS — YOU TOO L/N, WAKE UP NOW!”

“McKinnon! What do you want?!”

She gave a triumphant smirk. “Quidditch! It’s Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff today!”

Marlene was already decked out in her tracksuit, ready to go on a jog around the castle with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Once everyone woke up, they all gave her one of many pep talks and ushered her off.

The morning was slow for everyone but Y/N. Her thoughts drifted away from Sirius, only to think about the next worst thing possible; Snape.

Damn… she had to tell Lily, but how? ‘Hey, Petals! One of your friends — if not your best friend, called me, a Muggleborn — which if you forgot, you are too —the cruellest word there is! And he was caught with a book about The Dark Arts!’

She would tell her, but not today, or at least until after the Quidditch game.

As Y/N got ready for the day, everyone noticed the bandage around her hand (which she lied and made an excuse using Oats), then headed down for breakfast. The Gryffindor team was huddled around Marlene and James. Mary and Alice sat close, giving her a small wave.

Downing coffee after coffee, the caffeine strangely made her sleepier as she listened to James and Marlene’s agonizing rambles. Lazily flicking through sections of the Daily Prophet, she waited for a letter from her mother. None — again. Until a hand came out of nowhere, snatching the paper from her grasp, leaving Y/N to huff out.

She didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. “Mornin’ Professor,” she mumbled, reaching over to grab it from him.

“You look like you’ve been shagging the whomping willow,” Remus jokes, shaking his head with a smile.

At this, Mary leans in and whispers into her ear, “Didn’t we suggest Remus —” “Or Black? Not a tree!” Marlene adds.

She ignored them but felt her stomach drop at the mention of Sirius. Remus wore his gold oversized glasses today. His curls were tousled, eyes slightly bloodshot and he seemed to be sluggish that morning. She scooted over making room as he took a seat next to her. She grinned back, “You look like shit too, Lupin.”

Remus’ smile turned brighter.

James floated two plates to them, filled with their favourite foods while Y/N poured Remus a mug of coffee, dumping an ungodly amount of sugar in, handing it to him. From all the times they brought coffee or tea for each other, whether that be for study groups, lounging in the common room or walking past the kitchens while heading to class, they knew how they liked their beverages by heart.

He flashed a tired smile, humming as he took a sip. Their dating rumours hadn’t calmed down yet, so when a couple of students passed by, looking between them enviously, they both side-eyed each other humorously.

“We’re such catches,” she whispered to him.

“Abso-bloody-lutely — hey!” He randomly cuts in, pointing to her bandaged hand, “We’re matching.”

He raised his hand, showing a couple of his fingers taped together before a long bandage was wrapped around his palm and travelled down his wrist, disappearing beyond his red sweater.

Y/N mused at it before grabbing a quill from Marlene who’d been sketching out the Quidditch pitch and dipped it into an inkpot, handing it to Remus.

His head tilted, “Hmm?”

“Sign mine and I’ll sign yours?”

His long calloused fingers took the quill from her, doodling on the white bandage gently. He drew Dumbledore with pom-poms, cheering for the upcoming Quidditch game, along with a smiley face, his initials and a couple magical creatures. Then passed the quill back, placing his bandage hand on the table and flicked open the Daily Prophet. A few splotches of ink splattered around as she drew The Beatles on broomsticks, all chasing a Golden Snitch. She also drew Remus as David Bowie’s cover as Aladdin Sane, using his scars to make the lightning bolt and quickly signed her name.

Lily and Peter had come in, taking a seat and Y/N had become hyper-aware of Sirius sitting down directly across from her. Both of them stiffened and she continued to avoid his gaze as she drew on Remus.

“We’re going to be fine, it’s only Hufflepuff.”

“Nope, Hufflepuffs know how to get shit done,” Peter says, his mouth stuffed with food. “Never underestimate them — what the fuck?!”

Everyone in the Great Hall collectively held a breath, looking up at the Slytherin table. Lily’s eyes almost bugged out in rage, her ears becoming red as she got up and walked over.

It was Snape, but it wasn’t his nose that caught people’s attention. No — his nose was fine — he must’ve gone to the hospital wing that night.

“What happened to him! Ahah!” Peter cried out, “He looks like my house elf!”

There, Snape stood completely bald with no eyebrows and wearing Gryffindor robes.

Y/N slapped a hand to her mouth, desperately trying to calm her shrieking laughter but couldn’t. She and Remus lent on each other, trying to not tip over the hall bench. Everyone whopped loudly, James even whistled.

But as everyone was occupied with the sight, the person who she expected to be howling in laughter that most definitely should’ve been was Sirius. He simply drank from his goblet, his eyes peered over to her with a knowing look and bowed his head ever so slightly and looked away.

Oh.

Ohhh.

She was left with more unanswered questions than ever.

[skarlette1]

Swinging Too Far: Nocturnal Emission

–The next chapter of the series Swinging Too Far.

Even superheroes have limits to their stamina, and the Swingers had exceeded theirs. Just a few days into their new plan to rehabilitate the villainess Salivaria by having one-on-one sexual sessions with her, both Satin and Steel were completely exhausted. Dozens of orgasms, both with Salivaria in her secure cell, and with each other during bedroom “debriefings,” had left them drained—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Between their solo sessions with the seductive supervillain and their debriefings with each other, the Swingers were doing very little besides sleeping and fucking. Plus, the need to pretend that they were “cheating” on each other with Salivaria took its toll, as well. How guilty should they feel about having better sex with Salivaria than with their soulmate? Their punishing schedule left little room for considering that question.

Around three in the morning, Steel awoke to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Opening his eyes, he saw his wife sound asleep in the bed next to him, the moonlight catching her features, beautiful in slumber. If she’s asleep, who’s in the hall? he wondered.

Behind him, the bedroom door opened with barely a whisper. Groggily, Steel rolled over to face the doorway.

Leaning over his bed was Sersi Salivaria.

Before he could react, she leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Quiet, loverboy,” she whispered. “We don’t want to wake the little missus.”

I must be dreaming, Steel thought. Their double-sealed, airtight confinement cell in the basement was inescapable. Salivaria would have needed a keycard and a security code to get out. It was impossible for her to be in his bedroom, four feet from his sleeping wife. It was impossible for her lips to look so luscious in the moonlight. “H-how did you get in here?”

“Do you really care, Steel? I don’t think so. I think you care about … my lips.” She whispered in his ear, her warm breath tickling his earlobe. “I think you care about ...” kiss “... where I’m going to ...” kiss “... put these lips next.” She kissed her way down his throat and over his chest.

Despite his super-powered muscles, Steel couldn’t muster the strength to push her away. “Wait … wait … Satin is … oh god … Satin’s right here.”

“Of course she is, Steel. But you don’t care about her,” Salivaria muttered, running her tongue over Steel’s nipples. “You told me she neglects you. You told me how much hotter I make you. That’s what I’m here for. To make you hot.” She fastened her lips around Steel’s left nipple and sucked.

No one had ever given much attention to Steel’s nipples before he and Satin had started to rehabilitate Salivaria. He hadn’t expected to like it. Now, the feel of her lips on his chest was like a wet dream come true.

Red hot pleasure burned through Steel’s body, turning any thought he might have had to ash. He could do little more than swallow his moans as Salivaria moved from one nipple to the other, each lick a searing spike of bliss right from his chest to his spine to his cock. He was rock hard and on the verge of cumming just from her nipple play. Never in all his years of sex had Steel ever felt this turned on—nor this helpless—beneath a lover.

As Salivaria trailed her kisses lower, where a dark spot of precum already stained Steel’s gray pajama pants. As she pulled them down, she gazed deeply into Steel’s eyes. “Turn your head and look at your wife, Steel. Look at her while you feel me. Think about what you would do to her in order to feel me again.”

“D-do to her? N-n-no, I wouldn’t do—Unngh!” Steel’s words dissolved into guttural sighs as Salivaria’s warm, wet mouth engulfed his stiff shaft. It was like his cock was engulfed in pure, burning bliss. He found his gaze locked on Satin’s sleeping face. In all the years he had loved her, all the love they had made together, all the down and dirty sex they’d had, Satin’s touch had never made him feel like this. Like his every breath was desire and his every heartbeat was lust and like he wasn’t even a man anymore, not even a person, just a single, throbbing nerve of aching need. A fleshy platform for his cock, made electric by Salivaria’s lips. Salivaria’s mouth. Salivaria’s tongue.

That divine tongue flicked under the foreskin of Steel’s cock and he exploded, his entire body an inferno of ecstasy and release. Salivaria sucked hard, swallowing his salty spunk and extending the sensation. The more she sucked, the more he came. Spurt after spurt after spurt, relentlessly cumming even when his balls were empty. Those dry spasms burned even hotter, made him feel even more helpless. It was proof that everything he had to give was nowhere near what she could take from him. Steel’s whole body shuddered beneath the onslaught of Salivaria’s pleasure. There was no time, just the eternal now as she stared at his wife’s sleeping face, swallowing his screams for fear of waking her, and cumming for the villainess who had swallowed his soul.

# # #

“G’morning, babe,” Satin whispered in Steel’s ear.

“Uh, mornin’?” He groaned, his bleary eyes gazed unbelieving at the curtains with their sunrise-painted edges. Where had the night gone? Satin’s body was warm and soft against his back, just as it had been on thousands of other mornings. Was it all a dream?

“I slept like the dead,” Satin said. She ran a hand over Steel’s naked ass, “If I’d known you were gonna sleep in the buff, I might have stayed up longer to take advantage of it.”

“Um, yeah.” Looking around, Steel saw his pajama pants hanging from the bedroom doorknob. Stumbling out of bed, he grabbed the pants. The soft cotton was still damp where Salivaria’s drool had anointed it.

Feeling his palms tingle against the fabric, Steel realized what had happened. It hadn’t been a dream. Salivaria had actually been here. She’d actually kissed him—and so much more—with Satin in the bed right next to him. Only in the cold light of morning did he realize that he hadn’t had a drop of the protective formula in his body to protect him from her kisses. The only defense he had was whatever tolerance he’d built up in the last few days.

And the strength of his marriage vow.

Satin rolled out of bed and stretched, her T-shirt riding high enough to reveal her white cotton panties. “Lots to do today, babe. I’m going to fix some breakfast. Want anything?”

Steel knew he had to ask for toast with kumquat jam. He’d been compromised and he knew it. He and Satin had made a safety plan back when they started this rehabilitation plan. If either of them were getting too deep, they just needed to say the word kumquat and the other would pull them out. One little word and Satin would save him from Salivaria’s haughty gaze, from her insistent voice, from her bottomless kiss. One little word and she’d send Salivaria back to Chastity Island Prison to serve the rest of her sentence. One little word and Steel would never again feel that irresistible mouth drawing his cock deeper and deeper into its bottomless bliss. One word would put a stop to it forever.

“Just coffee,” Steel grunted and headed for the shower.

—To Be Continued...

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

My newest erotic novel, Libido League #13: Panther’s Passion is now available at Smashwords and Amazon.

[nadisabug]

How You Meet // Volleyball! reader

Pairing: Bokuto Kotaro / Nishinoya Yu / Oikawa Tooru x fem! volleyball! reader

Genre: Crack. Pure crack.

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 2.5 k 

Summary: You are a volleyball player in the same position as the boy, and he is taken aback at your beauty and skills. 

A/N: all of the boys would just be so supportive and hrng need me a volleyball boy

Haikyuu Masterlist

Bokuto K. 

Bokuto would prolly be the one that suggested cheering for the Fukurodani girls team

Like he and his bros are bored between matches

And he notices the girls are on in a different court

So he manages to drag akaashi and a couple others to go watch with him

So they enter the stands...

Bokuto walk through the door to the stands and he is immediately blown away.

"Y/n!" Your setter nearly screams. You, eyes still trained on the blockers across from you, answer with a small smirk that sends Bokuto's head spinning.

"Here I come!" You yell in response, vocalizing your claim on the ball. You squat then set off running towards the net. At the last moment you push off of your feet and jump, albeit not as high as Bokuto could, but high nonetheless for your stature. Your arm shoots up and makes contact with the ball with a satisfying smack.

In front of you are two freakishly tall blockers, and Bokuto doesn't know how you'll get the ball past. But, as soon as the ball leaves your hand, it seems to find a small gap in their block and blows past it, landing on the other side of the court in the blink of an eye.

Once everyone lands on the floor again, both teams look up at the referee. He blows his whistle and raises his arm towards the Fukurodani side of the court. The Fukurodani girls erupt into cheers and surround the girl apparently named Y/n.

The setter cheers, claps Y/n on the back and shouts. "That's our ace!"

Bokuto watches her in awe as she flashes a gorgeous smile and shyly tucks a stray hair behind her ear.

"C'mon, are you gonna sit or just stand there like an idiot?" Akaashi tugs Bokuto by the back of his collar, not giving him a choice to stand there for longer.

"She's the ace..." Bokuto mumbles dreamily.

"Yeah no shit, that was insane, blowing through that block." Akaashi mutters, no choice but to agree. He drags Bokuto to where the rest of the team has already sat down and pulls him into the seat.

"She's amazing," Bokuto breathes, his eyes still locked on you.

"Quit it before you start drooling," Akaashi rolled his eyes.

But Bokuto couldn't. From your receives to your serves, every movement you made he was mesmerized. And before he knew it Fukurodani had won consecutive sets.

Once he saw you and your team leave the court, he shot up from his seat.

"I've gotta meet her!"

Akaashi looked up at him with wide eyes. "Wait-"

But Bokuto was already leaping over chairs and scrambling to the door. Akaashi stood up too and, with a resigned sigh, followed him too.

Bokuto didn't stop running until he made it to the first floor. He skidded around a corner and finally locked eyes with you. He couldn't help himself and ran up to you, absolutely panting from the running he had done.

"You-" pant "were fucking" pant "amazing!"

Embarrassment flooded your system and you looked down at the floor nervously. The setter walked up and put herself in between you and Bokuto.

"Back away from our ace, owl-boy," she hissed. "Don't think we didn't notice you drooling over our captain during the game."

Normally you would be more confident, but once one of your teammates pointed out the boy in the stands going absolutely apeshit for you, it started to eat at you. The embarrassment of a guy - a hot one at that - calling your name from the stands and drawing everyone's attention was just too much for you.

"You're the captain too? No wonder! I am too, Im-"

"Bokuto Kotaro, I know who you are," you cut him off and put your hand on your setters shoulder. "It's okay, I can handle him."

Warily, your setter backed down and joined the rest of the team cooling down.

"You know who I am?" Bokuto beamed, his chest puffing up.

"Of course," you rolled your eyes. "You're one of Japan's top five aces. And you go to our school."

"Why hadn't I ever seen you before?" Bokuto gushed.

It was at this point that Akaashi finally caught up. "Because you leave all the grunt work to me," he sighed. He looked at you and gave you a slight nod. "Y/n."

"Akaashi," you smiled and replied.

"You know her?" Bokuto nearly yelled.

"Duh," Akaashi rolled his eyes. "We coordinate stuff together like the buses or practice."

"I wanna know her," Bokuto pouted at Akaashi. Akaashi rolled his eyes and sighed.

"What he's asking if you'd go get lunch with him sometime," Akaashi looked at you, speaking for Bokuto.

You felt a heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Sure,” you smiled. It couldn’t hurt to go out with the absolute hottie who was cheering for you all game. 

“Great!” Bokuto shouted and grabbed your hand. He started pulling you away from your team. 

“W-wait, right now?” You looked back at your setter for help, but she just shrugged. 

“I’ll cover for you!” She called as you got dragged away by the excited boy. 

You had no idea what you were in for. 

Nishinoya Y. 

Noya was definitely the one who suggested watching the girls

Girls playing his favorite sport?? What could be better?

He was able to drag most of Kurasuno to watch the girls 

Daichi ofc came to support the other captain, Yui Michimiya

But little did he know after he sat down that he was in for a big surprise

The whistle blew and a girl with h/c hair stood at the sidelines with her sign. She and another girl from the team switched out, and when they did there was a commotion in the stands. 

“Oh my god, finally! L/n is back in!” A girl in the row in front of the boys cheered.

“I know, I still can’t get over her last receive,” the other girl gushed. 

Noya looked back at you and noted the reversed colors of your jersey. 

So, she’s a libero huh, he thought to himself. He looked you closer and thought that you were a little cute. 

The game resumed and a long volley started. It looked like it was about to end when the other team set up for an unblocked spike. The setter had feinted and sent all the blockers to cover another spiker so that their one player could hit unmarked. Not a single soul was on that side of the court, and Noya could feel himself wincing as the spiker hit the ball. That was going to hurt. They were already down too many points and really didn’t stand a chance of winning. 

He waited for the ball to hit the ground, but in the blink of an eye, you were there and the ball was up. 

You called the name of your setter and quickly she set it up for one of your spikers. Since the other team had thought the had this in the bag, they were not ready for the counter attack and Kurasuno got the point. 

“Did you see that?” Hinata gushed and leaned over Noya’s shoulder. “She totally just did rolling thunder! She was like whoosh and swoosh and the bam!”

Noya nodded enthusiastically. “That was an amazing receive!” 

After that, Noya began cheering every time you made a receive, even if it wasn’t a hard one. You started noticing very early on and part of your attention was focused on the short king in the stands. You did your best to ignore it and keep your head in the game, but its kind of hard to ignore a hot boy cheering for every move you make. 

You were almost glad when the game was over. 

“Hey, Y/n,” one of your blockers smirked. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a fan.”

“I will murder you with my bare hands,” you growled, tired of the team’s teasing. They had not let up on the whole fan thing since Noya had started up in the stand, and frankly, you were tired of it. 

“Ouch, save some of your love for your boyfriend,” the blocker smiled. She then looked at something behind you and smiled even wider. 

“He’s not my boyfriend! Listen if I see that guy again, all shit will break loose- what? What are you smiling- oh.” You turned around to see the boy in the stands standing awkwardly behind you. 

“Hi,” he smiled and waved. He was acting quite demure, a stark contrast from his shenanigans in the stands. Now that he was closer, you kinda had to admit. He was kind of, sort of cute. “You were really good out there. Really impressive. Sorry if my cheers were distracting, you were just so good.”

You seemed to have lost your steam, because you couldn’t bring yourself to yell at this genuinely kind and supportive boy. Instead you rubbed the back of your neck nervously and broke eye contact. “Uh, thanks,” was all you could mumble. 

“Wanna practice together sometime?” He suggested, a nervous smile on his face. 

“Yeah sure, if you can keep up,” you responded. 

“Oh don’t worry, about me,” he puffed out his chest dramatically. 

“Okay,” you laughed a little. You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. He looked at you quizically for a second. “Number?”

At that he flushed bright red. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he stumbled over his words, typing his number in quickly. Once he was done he handed the phone back. 

“I’ll text you sometime,” you smiled and walked back to your team. Immediately after you turned around you heard an energetic voice shout. 

“Did Noya-senpai just get a date?”

After that you heard a scuffle that you only assumed was Noya silencing the other boy. 

Oikawa T. 

Okay lets be honest

The last place he wanted to be was in the stands watching girls play

First of all he could have his ~fans~ doting on him

Second of all he could be practicing

Third of all he could be watching the team they were slotted to go up against next

But all of those other options were out of the question when Iwaizumi decided that Oikawa needed a break

(and also didn’t need to be near his fans)

So grumpily Oikawa will sit in the stands to watch your game, but he’s not really watching

Instead he’s watching a match on his phone

that is until Iwaizumi says something that peaks his interest...

“Holy fuck, that’s the captains fourth service ace.”

Oikawa frowned. It was a simple sentence really, one he had heard a million times. The difference was that usually it was aimed at him, not someone else. 

Oikawa looked up from his phone to see who was apparently the  Aoba Johsai girl’s team captain. It was hard to tell from this far away, but Oikawa’s senses told him that she was a looker. The way she carried herself it was obvious that she was confident in what she was doing, and that to Oikawa was enough. 

He put down his phone and leaned forward in his chair. He was invested now, whether he liked it or not. 

He watched as the referee blew their whistle and you lined up for your serve. You threw the ball up and jumped, hitting it mid air and sending it straight to the other teams side. It landed in bounds with a satisfying thwack, completely unimpeded by the other team’s girls. 

Iwaizumi let out a low whistle. “That’s five.”

“I can count, thanks,” Oikawa snapped dryly. 

Iwaizumi looked over, cocking his eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were paying attention.”

“Well I am now.”

Iwazumi shrugged and turned back to the game. You lined up for your next serve and hit it, but this time the other team’s libero picked it up. After that your team had a chance ball. 

Oikawa huffed. 

“What, shittykawa?”

“She should have kept aiming at their number 4. She got confident aiming for their libero,” Oikawa stated matter-of-factly. 

“How do you know she was aiming for the libero?” Iwaizumi retorted. “What if it was just on accident?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “You don’t get five services aces and not be able to aim in the air.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I’m just saying it could have been an accident. Like you said, she was on a roll aiming and scoring off of their number four. Why would she switch that up?”

Oikawa pursed his lips. 

“You never know unless you ask,” Iwaizumi added slyly. “Not that you will.”

Oikawa whirled on Iwaizumi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Iwaizumi started without looking over at Oikawa. “You don’t talk to girls unless they fawn all over you.”

“Not true,” Oikawa huffed.

Iwaizumi just shrugged. 

“That’s not true!” Oikawa repeated in frustration. 

“Then prove it,” Iwaizumi replied bluntly. 

“Besides, how do you know she won’t like me?”

Iwaizumi laughed. 

“What?” Oikawa grit his teeth, starting to get annoyed at Iwaizumi. 

“You don’t remember?” Iwaizumi shot Oikawa a side glance. 

Oikawa just glared at Iwaizumi. 

“Hey, fine.” Iwaizumi sighed. He turned back to the game. “You hit on her at school a while back and she didn’t give you the time of day.”

Oikawa snorted. “I do not ‘hit on’ people.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. 

“Fine, come with me then,” Oikawa nearly growled. He got up from his seat and marched away. Iwaizumi sighed but got up. The game was already over and he was upset that he couldn’t enjoy it, but what did he expect from watching it with Oikawa. 

Oikawa stomped his way all the way downstairs and was a fuming mess when he finally stopped in front of you. You waved off the teammates you were walking with to go ahead and stopped to see what The Oikawa Tooru wanted from you. 

“Did you purposefully aim for the libero after the five service aces?” He growled. 

“I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but usually you’re supposed to congratulate someone on that kind of shit,” you smirked, enjoying Oikawa’s bad mood.  

“Congratulations,” he forced a smile and said sweetly. “Now did you or did you not?” 

You grinned. “How about we make a deal?”

Oikawa cocked an eyebrow but let you continue. 

“You watch out next game, and let me know if I did.”

Oikawa scoffed. “That’s hardly a deal that favors me.”

“You’re smart,” you shrugged. “You’ll figure it out.” You took your leave at that, leaving Oikawa behind, still frustrated. 

But he couldn’t help but want to watch your next game, for some odd reason. Maybe this deal wasn’t too bad. 

Taglist: {OPEN}

[savagetrickster]

Caffeine Rush (NSFW) | BNHA

anime  |  character:  bnha  |  bakugou katsuki

word count: 17,845

Themes/warnings: 18+, aged-up, praise kink, blowjob, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, swearing, mild degradation, unprotected sex 

The office building that made Ground Zero agency was quiet and still. The appointed office hours were over hours back. 

Most staff had already retired for the day. Among the black, lifeless screens on the desks, only hers stayed running bright and full of words on its screen. 

The cursor behind the word on the tail of her report was left to blink repetitively as she dragged her feet to the pantry. 

Her head felt numb with mental exhaustion as the weight of the nearing deadline reared its ugly head once again as the dreading thought of it reminded her again. The uneasiness and brooding anxiety that it brought about was no help in elevating the stress on her.

Between her heavy thoughts about the report taunting her from her computer screen, her legs brought her to the coffee machine. 

Her hand fell into a mechanical motion as it placed her mug on the dispenser and lifted to press the Espresso option on the LED screen.

This was her third cup...no, fourth. Wait, or was it the sixth? 

It didn’t even matter anymore.

She just needed to get through one more night of slaving away to finish it, and she would be fucking done with this long-due paperwork.

It was stupid of her to procrastinate so much; now she had to pay the price.

In the lonely silence of the pantry, her weary eyes watched the dark coffee dribble over her mug, sending one central ripple across the smooth steaming surface. 

Her hand returned its grip to the handle once again, tugging it out of the dispensing holder. 

A yawn left her as she turned away and instantly greeted with a startled-

“Fuck-” As the coffee in her mug was sent swishing and splashing over its rim as her hand collided into something solid with a curt jerk.

The scalding sting over her hand made her hiss. Her eyes flew up with irritation, her mouth opening to yell.

And she froze.

Then her eyes widened, horror seeping in when she realized she was staring at the angry face of...Ground Zero himself.

Her eyes followed his gaze down to the coffee dripping off his pants.

Well, shit.

A hasty jumble of ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry’ tumbled out of her mouth as she placed down her mug on the countertop behind while her other hand tore a handful of paper towels.

Her knees met as she quickly lowered herself before his stained pants. 

Maybe it was the nights spent over the stupid report. 

Maybe it was the coffee.

It seemed that all common sense or whatever would have kept her from grabbing the front of her boss’s pants had died along with her overworked brain cells.

Her apologies continued stumbling out of her mouth as her hands worked in a hasty pace on his pants, her eyes focused on wiping away the spillage.

Too caught up in her guilt and her panic to realize anything else-

The warmth in her hands was trying to pull away. 

The stuttering mess of curses uttered above her.

The stiffening within her grasp.

He just returned from a long day outside to take some stuff and his craving for the aromatic bitterness of coffee was what brought himself straight to the pantry the moment he stepped through the main door. 

It was absurd to think he would end up being groped by a female employee in the pantry. The brewing words he wanted to yell at the woman with fell at every brisk rub down him. 

Bakugou could feel the resisting voice bubbling in his chest growing quieter at every stroke. 

Fuck. While this was bizarre and all to him, the jolting thrill running up his length sent a delicious chill up his spine. 

A particular thrill of friction brushing over the protruding vein on his clothed erection shook his next breath out of him.

Loud and harsh enough to draw her eyes up to him, her hands pausing.

And was met with a flustered yet irritated face glaring back at her.

Her eyes drifted back to her hands blankly at where her fingers were wrapped around - something was thick and kinda...lengthy. 

In her hands was Ground Zero’s...oh wow.

She always had dirty thoughts about her boss but damn, this was not what she had ever imagined herself doing. 

Along with muscular, lean built and tall stature that could give models a run for their money, the bulge accentuated in his flattering, somewhat fitting pants was a big distraction for the females in his agency...or maybe it was just her. 

Exactly as she had imagined, he was indeed...big in her hands.

And it was...

Her fingers tightened slightly. ...hard.

A responsive jolt accompanied by a hissing curse made her jump, slapping her with a cold splash of realization.

Shit.

That she was on her knees in her company’s pantry, caressing her boss’s cock.

Oh shit.

Her hands flinched away from him as if scalded and her legs scrambled to get her away. A bright, red blush colored the flustered horror on her face.

She was so fired. 

So so FIRED-

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

Her eyes raised to find him looking down at her with a towering glare brimming with impatience and frustration.

“You think you can just get away like this?” 

“I’m so sorr-”

“Weren’t you just fondling with my cock?” His usual husky voice sounded rougher and breathless. “Who the fuck said you can stop?”

She stared, stunned. Wondering whether her ears were failing her as well. 

But clearly they weren’t because she could hear an intriguing strain in his voice.

The struggle in his gruffness and the red eyes prodding into her sent a needy ache within her, feeling a gush of her arousal soaked through her panties underneath her dress.

A slip of her eyes from his face, a shiver ran through her at how his nipples on his well-defined pecs were poking through the tight clad of his hero costume on him. 

Her eyes slipped even lower.

The huge tent prodding through his pants made her eyes waver and her breath quivered through her lips. 

Was she high from all the coffee? Or had she officially gone nuts?

She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t even want to care.  

The man of her dreams himself was offering himself to her. 

She could feel her body trembling with a strong ache. The long, yearning ache that had followed her through the years and pushed her to join his agency.

An ache to be filled by Bakugou Katsuki, the world’s second strongest man.

An ache to feel him shove his cock into her.

An ache to make her wild thoughts about him come true.

She felt the last straining thread holding herself back snap as her hands flew forward, immediately working on the buckle around his waist.

Her lips were stretched over his leaking cock as soon as it sprang free from his pants. 

The pre-cum spilling over from his swollen tip smeared over her lips as she moaned giddily at the melting heat in her mouth.

The hand tugging harshly onto her hair dug even more pressure into her scalp as a throaty groan joined her muffled moan.

“Ye-Yeah, show me what you’ve got.” 

A grin stretched across Bakugou’s face as he pressed himself harder into her, feeling his cock sink deeper into her warm cavern, her moans spiked with a choke. 

“And I’ll give you a good one later.” 

His hand left her head to join the other clutching onto the edge of the countertop behind her.

Her walls clenched to his words just as her eyes watered at the pressure pressed to the back of her throat.

Fuck, he was as thick as she had guessed. But she had never imagined he would be so...veiny.

She drew back and relished in the heavy pants and moans from above, tracing her tongue daringly across the trails of veins running along with his lengthy girth. 

Her hands raised to join her mouth, adding on with tightening squeeze as she lingered at the tip of his bulging cock. 

A slow, elaborate lick across the weeping slit on it, her throat swallowed with a  deep gulp.

Almost instantly, a dragging grunt rumbled through his body. 

Humming in delight at what she heard, her cheeks hollowed as she started to suckle heatedly over the hot running tip. 

Within the firm grip of her hand, she could feel his thick girth filling up, growing thicker as she welcomed more pre-cum into her.  

The husky moans from above light a smirking glint in her eyes as she reached a hand up his length and clamped over his balls with a teasing curt squeeze.

Immediately, the husky moans from him hitched with a broken grunt. 

Her walls clenched tight at how erotic that sounded.

“Y-You take my cock so well. Do you think you deserve to be fucked by me?”

The small collected pool of her own arousal on the floor beneath her heated cunt was rained upon by another surge as her walls convulsed with need.

“No, I-I don’t,” His stiff cock popped free from her mouth, a slick thread of her saliva remained connected to its flushed, bloated tip. 

“Bu-But Bakugou-sama, you deserve to be inside me.” Her eyes were fogged with hazy heat and her cheeks red. 

Bakugou…

His cock spluttered another rush of pre-cum. 

...-sama?

“I-I’ve been ready for you ever since I laid my eyes on you.” 

His red eyes shook with his expelling breath as a carnal jolt rippled through him, his cock tightening even more with the growing pressure within.

“Strip completely,” His eyes blazed as he spat his order, “Get on that table and show me how much your pussy wants me then.”

Clothes were strewn on the floor in an irregular trail to the broad table sitting in the center of the pantry. 

Propped by her arms behind her, her legs shook with effort to keep her thighs wide apart for him. 

Her heated cunt wouldn’t stop leaking, trickles of her slick fluid continued to join the collected puddle on the table below as the man took his time to approach.

The way his hungry gaze sat fix on her weeping folds stretched wide enough for the chills from the air conditioner to tickle her. 

Red eyes took in the sight before him greedily.

The clench of her eyebrows on her forehead

The way she bit down on her lower lips. 

Her face flushed red and her breasts rising and falling with harsh pants.

And the way her raised thighs were spread wide apart for him.

“Look at you,” Bakugou stopped before her, his lips forming a smug smirk at the sight for the glistening trickles slipping out of her, “...Already dirtying my property with your slutty pussy.” 

Her breathy pants spiked with a moan as he pressed two fingers to her clit, pinching it briefly before moving down.

A gathering of her warm arousal coated his fingers as they ran lightly over her-  

“I haven’t even done shit yet,” -and paused to pry her sopping folds apart. “But fuck, you’re already so wet.”

A gasping whimper puffed out of her as his fingers pushed through the thick coat and into her aching walls. 

The wet, lewd squelch dragged through the air as her wispy whimper rose to a drawn moan at the delicious thrill his fingers made as they bulldozed their way into her sensitive walls.

She found it hard not to stare at the way his erected, weeping cock prodded against his toned stomach. Wondering with a wistful sigh about how it would feel inside her.

“Ba-Bakugou-sama, I-” A rough shove of one more finger into her tore a startled cry through her words. 

“You what?” His lips widened with a grin as his fingers curled and stretched teasingly within her pulsing walls.

“P-Please…” 

Her eyes raised to his, staring back helplessly at the amusement in his dancing red eyes, trying not to give in to her aching desire to return to his cock. “...fuck me.”

Her struggle against her straying eyes was not missed.   

“Aren’t my fingers already doing that?” His knowing grin widened. “Oh you mean...like this?” 

His calloused fingers inside her suddenly sped, thrusting through her walls vigorously.

Gasping moans rode through her throat as fast, furious friction of the loud, lewd squelches accompanying his pumping fingers rubbed the heated air between them frantically.

The building pleasure within her was making her dizzy with euphoric fever as her moans rose. 

Uncontrollable hot tears escaped her dazed, wavering eyes as she watched his fingers work heatedly between her wide opened thighs.

Her walls were convulsing, resonating with her urgent need to release the pent-up pressure inside her. 

Not even coffee could keep her this awake. 

The jolting thrills were shaking her overstimulated body. “Baku-Bakugou-sama, I’m-” 

His fingers were ripped out of her before she could finish. A startled moan elicited out of her at the same time.

The slick threads connecting his fingers to her spilling cunt quivered as Bakugou brought his hand up, his eyes admiring the result of his work with a satisfied glint.

He brought his heavily coated fingers before her panting, parted lips with a smug, intense gaze. 

“Clean up this shit.” His gruff voice was commanding and blunt.

Her lips immediately latched onto his fingers, hastily lapping up her own fluid. It tasted weird on her tongue, but she didn’t bother too much. 

She could feel her body shivering with impatience and frustration. One big gulp down her throat, her eyes raised to him with anticipation, in time to see his hand run over his cock.

“I think it’s time I give you your little reward.” His eyes met hers. “Be grateful that I, Ground Zero, even considered putting my cock inside you.”

“Tha-Thank you, Ground Zero.” Her eyes followed his hand as it slid over his swollen tip. 

“Bakugou-sama suits your mouth better. Eyes up here,” The edge in his voice hardened. Her eyes raised to his obediently. “Thank me properly if you want me inside now.” 

A thrill jolted through her cunt.

Fuck, in her head where her imagination ran wild, he was always the dominating one but witnessing it with her own eyes...Shit, she never knew he could be any more sexier. 

“Thank you, Bakugou-sama.” A sultry purr reverberated in her chest as she sighed giddly at the sinful sight the way his leaking arousal was giving away his own needs for her cunt.

Today was probably by far the best day of her life. The sex gods if there were any, were smiling down on her.

“Now, get down onto the floor on all fours.”

Her slick arousal cascaded down her thighs the moment she eagerly set herself on her knees. Her  softly arched back accentuated her ass as her excitement ran through her throbbing walls.

A shuddering chill ran up her spine at the light brush of his cock across her protruding ass as Bakugou planted himself behind her.

His eyes narrowed at the gap between her thighs.

“Is this how you show me your gratitude?” His hand landed on her butt cheek with a harsh slap. She responded to him with a sharp cry as her body jolted.

“Open wider.” A sharp sting rang across her other butt cheeks as another slap landed.

“...And I’ll fuck you like the little slut you are.” 

His words sounded so...hot to her ears.

With a shivering whimper, she obeyed, lowering herself with forearms propped shakily on the floor beneath her. 

Her butt cheeks spread open as she pushed her thighs apart for him.

His breath shuddered out of him as he watched the quivering threads of her slick fluid stretched, following the widening space between her sopping folds she made from parting herself.

All these...

A strangled groan escaped him. 

...for him.

The tight pressure strained in his bulging girth even more. Fuck, he couldn’t wait anymore.

His hand slipped up her arched back and wrapped itself tightly around the end of her long hair, her back arching even more to his firm grip on her, as his other slathered his needy cock over her dripping slit. 

The delirious whimper shuddering down to her cunt fanned his carnal ache to shove himself in.

The tightening grip on her hair was her only warning before his hip shot forward. His cock plunged through the pouring flow of her arousal and buried completely into her in one powerful rut.

The bright flash of pleasure searing through the sudden big, wide stretch of her cervix forced a choked moan out of her, hot tears spilling out of her widened eyes at how thick he was.

“Fu-Fuck,” A trembling grunt shook out of his lips as he drew himself back through the walls clamped in a vice-like grip around him. “What a tight little bitch you are-”

His cock rammed in one bruising thrust, shoving an instantaneous sharp cry out of her mouth.

More continued to tumble out of her as he continued to hammer into her, his hand tugging harshly onto her hair like it was his rein.

The other hand in a clutching grip on her hip as his cock drove fiercely through her pulsing walls. 

Helpless sobbing moans forced out her mouth at every rough snap of his hip. Her eyes nearly rolled back every time he pounded into her.

A sly grin stretched his panting lips as he thrusted mercilessly into her

“Too much for you?” A slap on her ass drew another cry from her. 

Somewhere between his powerful ruts, his hand had left her hair and joined the other on her hip in a harsh grip. 

His intense gaze glared into her as she staggered weakly on her shaky arms with giddy whimpers and groans. She was a slobbering mess beneath his towering stance.

“Keep up with me.” A growl ripped through his words as he gave her another slap on her ass.

In the smothering heat ramming between her clenching walls, she was beginning to see white flashes behind her fluttering blinks. 

Blazing brighter and brighter as she felt his rushing cock push her fast to the edge. She couldn’t anymore. 

It was too...

“Ba-Bakugou-sama!” 

A tattered shriek broke her voice as a starburst of electrifying ripple shattered through her shaking body, her orgasm instantly flooding his relentless cock with her rich arousal.

The hiss sifted through his gritted teeth as Bakugou bit back a groan at the hot burst and her rapidly gripping walls that were engulfing him greedily.  

Fuck. This was it for him too.

Along with the squeezing tightness around him, the overpowering load in his cock forced the rolls of his hip to grow hectic and furious.

Her fleeting moans joined his breathless groans as he chased his own release with a fervor blazing in his red eyes, ramming hot blistering thrusts into her.

His desperate thrusts were accompanied with slippery, frantic squelches loud enough to mingle with harsh claps of their slapping skin as his hip met with her flushed ass heatedly.

One particularly sharp, powerful thrust forward forced a growling moan shredding through his mouth as his hip snapped into her and buckled erratically.

A loud sultry groan dragged through her throat as she felt the bulging tip of his swollen cock nestle into the deepest part of her with a rough prod. 

The hot burst of his thick rich seed spluttering fiercely inside her made her eyes roll back.  

The back of his muscular thigh clenched as he held his spurting cock snug inside her, expelling a wavering satisfied sigh.

Her dragging groan ended with a delirious whimper as she relished in the warm fullness inside her, her walls stirring their mixed fluid with fluttering clenches.

One thought ran in her hazy head as she crumbled to the floor, amused and amazed.

That she had done it.

Her dreams came true.

That she had actually fucked one of the hottest men alive.

[hymnonlips]

Manuscript Search Tag

 Thank you for the tag @loveimogen! I legit don’t have any of the words you prompted me with so I’ll be using the words you were prompted with by @talesofsorrowandofruin. 

Words: blood, again, easily, and world.

I’ll be ctrl+f-ing my character exploration exercise for Gay Ghosts (still don’t have a name). Quotes, prompts, and tags below the cut.

Blood:

She hears the ruffle of cloth on cloth and footsteps. The curtain slowly opens and Ciela’s head peaks through. Perci can barely make out her expression–but she swears she sees a smile flicker on her face.

“Please tell security to let me up to your apartment.”

The curtains move. Perci thinks Ciela’s gripping them tightly. “Dar–” Perci’s blood spikes. “No.”

A scoff escapes her lips. “...No?”

“No. I will not.” Perci feels Ciela’s eyes on her. She imagines her brows furrow together in faux bravery as her eyes dart like they always do when she’s scared.

Again:

But the scary truth is, in the back of her mind, playing over and over again is Ciela kissing her in that alleyway on that February night. Ciela’s hands on her clothes and on the back of her neck, pushing further and further, wanting more and more. Ciela, tasting like grape candies and what she’d imagined being the food of the gods.

Perci needs to see her.

Easily:

Rupert brings her hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I love you dearly, Perci.” He looks up at her and smiles. “I hope you find someone who loves you much more than I could ever hope.”

There are days she wishes she was in love with Rupert. With his wide, infectious grin and his child-like wonder for the world. Loving him would be so easy. In the day, Rupert would be her hard-working husband. At night, it would still be the same as always: drunken confessions straight from the heart and laughter. So much laughter. Except, this time, Perci wouldn’t feel like she’s missing something. She wouldn’t feel this suffocating yearning for something more than what they have. She wouldn’t feel so terribly, irrevocably wrong.

World:

 The world keeps turning. It continues to spin on its axis twenty-four hours a day, eight-thousand fucking hours a year. Strangers in the streets push past each other every day, having no goddamn clue that Ciela Veluz, siren and literal goddess divine, kissed the mess that is Perci Gaylor. 

Sitting on the pews that Sunday is, not to be dramatic, the most torturous experience Perci ever had to endure. She sits shoulder to shoulder with Rupert and some old woman. The woman wears black while she clutches a worn-out rosary. The pastor makes a single comment on homosexuals and the woman bursts into tears. The muscles in Perci’s hand tighten. She wants to claw her eyes out. She wants to death-grab that woman’s face and yell “I’m a homosexual!” She wants to dash into the carpeted aisle and scream “I KISSED CIELA VELUZ! AND I LIKED IT, VERY, VERY MUCH!”

But she doesn’t. 

She pinches her hand and she doesn’t.

Rupert shoots her a worried look. She lets out a heavy sigh, but the tightness in her chest doesn’t go away. The horrible truth is, the world expects her to go on as though the kiss never happened. It still spins and she has to pretend that Ciela’s touch doesn’t still linger on her lips.

Perci tries. She really truly tries.

Tagging:

I’ll be tagging @the-writing-moon (hey bestie), @fearofahumanplanet, and @jezifster. Your words are: touch, ground, smile, and almost. As always, no literally pressure to participate! Have a good day! :DD