#cheers i just wanted to be an emotional bastard for a while sorry not sorry LMAO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

short-black-diamond · 1 year

Note

Im in love with ur "she's a pro series"

Yena telling kunigami like "Uhm, eyes up here buddy" type of vibe. While with bastard muenchen, Yena starts trying to help Ness "Blossom" like the rose he is. 🤪💅

And while doing so, Kaiser is there like "NAH, HE MY SIDEKICK✋"

And MAYBE, Karasu, otoya and aiku ( the goofiest trio ) were spying on Yena and saw how kunigami was a perv and now are all " OOOOO, SOMEONE HAS A CRUSH" And kunigami's reaction i guess?

Sorry that this was long😅 i might have imagined a LIL too much💀

Thx!! Love and kisses💋❤️🤪💅 byebye!!

"Yo, she's a pro." ...part four

part one , part two , part three, ... , part five

Aw thanks, I'm glad you like it! Also about that blossoming, I had to think about Oliver's past and Kaiser's tattoo, so yeah lol

Bro your idea is LIT, and who am I to ignore you, my love? Also my friend wanted the reader to dance with Lavinho I guess? so yea

Your name: Yena Hideyo

Warnings/summary: you are a love-sick fool and don't act like your cool self at all, the trio teases Kunigami, you kick Kaiser between his legs this time, you touch Ness' lips, you dance with Lavinho, bachira has slutty hips, Rin smiles

Word count: 4.9 k 💀

---

It was truly embarrassment at it's finest. You didn't know that the cameras were everywhere, and your and blue lock's fans saw your interaction with Kunigami. Luckily they couldn't hear what Kunigami whispered in your ear. But, they could think, and your fanbase didn't exactly have the cleanest minds.

And much more unfortunately, A certain trio you had electrocuted a few hours prior saw your interaction with Kunigami. However, you didn't know about that...yet.

(you threw away the dress and shoes and all the makeup and jewellery as soon as they got off of your body.)

And, well, Chris Prince was the nosiest coach, closely followed by Lavinho, who were both taking pictures, laughing and cooing at your (cute) pouting face while they asked you about Kunigami.

You were just a blushing mess as you told them that "There's nothing to worry about! I just tripped and he held me close! That's all!", but did the two men believe you?

no <3.

...

It actually took you a while to recover from what Kunigami said to you yesterday as you were waiting in the operation room. Melody would get new fangs today.

you were anxious, to say the least. But, to your rescue came Reo, Nagi and Bachira. But, you were confused upon their arrival. "Shouldn't you guys be training?"

Bachira raised his hands excitedly. "We're here for your emotional support! Lavinho gave me permission to come as well! And here's a carton box of choccy milk!", the boy cheered, handing you over an under 500 ml milf box. You thanked him.

"Prince allowed us to leave as well when we told him you were a close friend of ours.", Reo explained, and Bachira plopped down next to you. Nagi and Reo stood there before they played scissors-paper-rock against each other.

Reo yelled in victory before sitting himself beside you. "The only game where I'm always a loser...", Nagi muttered before taking out his phone next to Reo.

you sighed, but you still smiled at them. "You guys didn't really have to do that, really. You should rather train... But thanks, I appreciate it."

Bachira grinned at you. "I want to stay close to Melody! She's so cool! ...So, how long are we waiting?"

"Four hours.", you stated. Nagi yawned, and Reo chuckled at Bachira's startled expression. "Also you didn't have to pay for Melody's surgery, Reo...I have plenty of money myself, you know?", you said as you turned to your left where Reo sat.

He only smiled down at you sweetly. "But I love Melody as well, Yena."

Reo actually nearly said you, but luckily he caught himself.

You huffed in amusement, but the orange or light brown?(->the sole) heels of your black converse shoes were tapping rapidly against the floor, and your right knee bounced pretty fast as well.

"Hey, Yena...", Bachira spoke softly, before glancing at Reo and Nagi. He wanted to calm your nerves by making you talk about something other than the surgery which was being proceeded right behind your back.

"How do you even know these guys?", he asked. You pondered for a moment. "I dunno..."

"What? C'mon, Yena. Us meeting for the first time was the funniest thing, remember??"

"Huh...Ah! No, please don't-"

"It was a long, long time ago, Bachira...", Reo began.

...

The classroom was particularly loud one day, making Nagi wake up from his slumber. "What's with the noise...?", he murmured sleepily. Reo snickered. "We're going to have a new transfer student today, did you already forget?"

"hm...don't care..", the white albino haired boy muttered before he closed his eyes again.

"...s Ye...deyo...!", he faintly heard his teacher introduce you.

"My name is Yena Hideyo. I am the first female Japanese soccer protégé.", you exclaimed loudly, and Nagi's eyes snapped open.

The whole classroom "oooooohhhhh~"ed at that.

But, they widened even more when he saw how you looked. Remember when I once said that you were a goth at heart? Well, the white uniform which had to be worn normally was black in your case, with chains sprouting everywhere. Your blazer was open, and it reveiled a dark red corset with black embroidments on it, and black bones.

Underneath that corset was a white bouse, and the tie was also shorter. Instead of the normal school skirt, yours was black with ruffles, and it...actually looked pretty good. You also wore black platform boots (Black Mamba from Megamind...yk what I mean? if not nvm), and Nagi and Reo were surprised that you were even allowed to wear something like that.

But, now that he thought about it, your skirt was reaching down to the upperside of your knees, where the normal school skirts reached mid-thigh. Also your boots were reaching up to your knees, and your thigh highs weren't really visible. You actually showed less skin than normal highschool girls.

"Does any of you guys know how to play soccer?", you asked as you looked at the stunned faces. Nagi raised his hand, and so did Reo. "Let's become buddies.", you said with a small smile, and they nodded.

Reo never thought that he'd have an academic rival until he met you. At every question the teacher made, you always raised your hand first. Whenever there would be a question the teachers didn't even know themselves, you and Reo would battle for the first tight answer, and then get into arguments when the answers were not the same.

Also, Nagi laughed his ass off when you cried after you collided against a classmate which resulted in your chocolate milk spashing to the ground. Reo gave you his chocolate milk. you three grew inseperable ever since.

Well, until your father got a job with better salary.

You had to leave the next day.

...

"And that's why, to this day, I still don't forgive your father!"

"Reo...he apologized to you everytime you called me...", you muttered.

"...still..."

"Huh, so you three are like, highschool friends?", Bachira asked as he hummed in thought. You nodded.

"Someone had to lower Reo's ego in school, and I also had to crush Nagi's pride in all the challenges of the games he played."

"It was hell when you defeated me in bed wars, Yena.", Negi grumbled when he had to think about the way you blew up his team's bed right after he landed on your territory.

"Never have I ever had such a mental breakdown like the time you told me the difference between active and passive beauty. Philosophy was an absolute warzone.", Reo shuddered when he thought about the dark ages.

You snickered. "Well, it was fun."

"For you!", Reo and Nagi yelled in unison.

Bachira laughed. "And, Bachira? Why are you in Blue Lock? If it's a too personal question, you can also say no. Wouldn't want to force you.", you asked, trying to be formal around Bachira. He was the one Melody loved the most out of all the boys in this facility.

"there's this monster I always see. Since I was young, I could see it, and always played with it..and then I saw the monster's moves in Isagi, and you. you and Isagi would be the players I'd like to pass to and play with.", he grinned. "You know, I can understand if you don't know what I'm talking about-"

"But I do.", you said, with a serious expression. Bachira's eyes widened. 'what do you mean-'

"If I could share a personal secret, my next book is about my type in men. In this facility, it is interesting to see all the different boys, but they all have their charms, however, it's only ever a fragment, a piece form the whole perfect man in my head.

I got asked from my fans to interact with many of them and find out that way how'd they be in a relationship.", you spoke, putting a hand under your chin in thought.

"But I can't understand why they'd like to see Oliver and some other guys I wouldn't choose personally. Oliver looks like a divorced man who can't get shit together, even though he's only 18? or 19?

Shidou Ryusei, as polite as he was to me, might kill people on the daily or make an onlyfans, and, well, then there's also Isagi."

You were glad the fans didn't bring Kunigami up though. (Yes, they did, you're just not online yet, and they will hold you at gunpoint for that whole you-stumbling-into-Kunigami-thing.)

Reo, Nagi and Bachira listened intently to what you said. But when reo and Nagi heard the name "Isagi", they "hah?!"ed at the same time again.

"Why do the fans like Isagi!?", Reo exclaimed in anger, mad at the fact that you didn't say his name.

"Yeah, what's so special about him...?!", Nagi muttered annoyedly.

You snorted. "Jealous?" "..." "Pretty much.", you remarked as you sighed.

"Remember what Noa said? The fans like Isagi, because he scored a goal in the world cup. He's been out in the field practically only for fanservice."

"Only because he scored a goal? Hmpf..!", Nagi grumbled. You sighed.

"Well...but what about your type, Yena?", Reo asked, trying to find out what you saw in the perfect man. He also thought aboout copying that personality if it meant for you to fall for him. He didn't have to act as a chameleon only on the field, right?

"My type...?", you thought loudly. Only Kunigami came to mind, actually.

You could only think about his cool eyes, or his spicky orange hair, and gosh, let's rather not talk about the body..! you thought about his voice, a deep vibration, which you'd like to feel against your skin as he embraced you with his big, strong arms, his nice scent filling your lungs as you gasped-

"Ah- I-I don't really have a type, ahahhahaahha!", you yelled as you stood up suddenly and laughed like a maniac. Bachira, Nagi and Reo shared concerned glances behind your back.

'Gosh, I nearly said Kunigami!!!', your mind raced. But, you took a deep breath. "Sorry, I was just thinking about a particular character form a book I really liked. But about my type...I'd say he's a little mysterious, has good manners, is polite, has a great, well-trained body -not that I'm bodyshaming anyone, heheh- and just...a smooth voice? Also, I like it when he has pretty eyes.."

Reo and Nagi looked at each other, their rivalry going unnoticed by you, but Bachira snorted at the flying sparks between the two.

"Is there any resemblance to...me?", Reo asked hopefully, and you snickered. "You? Hm...your hair is purple, that's a plus.", you said in a positive voice.

Nagi pointed to his hair. "Mine's white, so I'm a rarity, Yena.", he muttered with a blush as he gave you a little smile.

However, you made it fall in an instant. "Yeah, albino hair is pretty rare, but having naturally purple hair? I think nobody can top that."

Reo blushed furiously at your statement and he grinned as he looked down on his hands which rested on his lap. Nagi grumbled under his breath.

"Hey, Yena! Do I have cool hair too?! My hair is dark in the front, but light at the back! Isn't it cool?!", Bachira exclaimed, pointing towards his hair. he wanted to feel included as well.

You smiled softly at Bachira. He truly felt like a little brother to you, even though he was an inch taller than you. "yes, your hair's pretty cool too, Bachira."

...

Kunigami had just stepped into the gym when Otoya, Oliver and Karasu stepped in as well and strolled over to where Kunigami wanted to do his sets. Kunigami was about to bench press 80 kg/176 lbs. They snickered to themselves with a mischievous grin before Oliver started talking.

"So...we saw somethin', dude.", the heterochromia (dual coloured eyes) having boy started, going in front of the metal to "spot" Kunigami in case the ginger wouldn't be able to lift anymore.

Otoya looked at the weight. "You sure you can lift that?"

Kunigami thought back to you. You must've weighted between 60 and 80 kg's, no? So...he wanted to train using the maximum of your body weight. He blushed slightly, but he frowned. "Yes, it's warm up weight."

"Mind if we join?", Karasu asked with a smirk, as he used some dumbbells.

"Sure.."

"So, back to what we saw...you were being a lil goody-goody with Yena...", Oliver pondered, grinning at Kunigami holding the bar over his head, and stopped a second too long.

"So what."

"Well...we were just wondering...", Oliver murmured as he did some push-ups, giving up on trying to spot Kunigami. "do you maybe like her?"

Kunigami let the weight fall slowly to him. He breathed out. "Doesn't everyone like her?", he asked as he lifted it again, frowning deeply and wondering where the conversation might lead him. He knew that all the boys who interacted with you had their hearts captivated by you, and he was honestly a little insecure about himself. He also didn't think you'd be interested in him, because he didn't really look like a nice guy. (But that boutta change bro)

"Yes, of course, it's just, you must be having a crush on her~!", Otoya teased, but he flinched at the sound of the weight Kunigami let fall down carelessly, as Kuniagmi went up to Otoya, and Otoya was only 177 cm (5'9'') whereas Kunagi towered over him, being 188 cm (6'2'') tall. Otoya stumbled back with wide eyes, and Oliver and Karasu quickly joined to ease the tension.

"So what if I do? And you should be ashamed of yourselves for what you did with Yena in the sauna. I'm glad that she electrocuted you guys."

The three boys looked down in embarrassment. So she told Kunigami about what happened. Still, Oliver had the biggest ego out of those three, as well as the biggest mouth, and he was also two centimeters bigger than Kunigami.

"Hey, no need to point fingers now, right?"

"You guys started it."

"Ah, guilty. Sorry 'bout that. But hey, now we now that our little wildcard here has a crush on Yena!", and with that, the trio chuckled as they left. Once the door slid closed, Kunigami sighed, a deep blush covering his cheeks.

'fucking idiots...!', he thought before he kept going with his training.

...

You didn't know how long you've been chatting with Bachira and your two highschool friends, but the door to the surgery suddenly opened. The doctor stepped out, a handsome older male as he groaned in exhaustion.

"Is Melody alright? How did the procedure go? Can I see her?", you asked worriedly after you stood up the moment you heard the door unlock.

"Melody is fine, miss Hideyo. Her fangs are suiting her well. You can come see her, but she is a little drugged with pollen. It might take her a few minutes to fully wake up, but she'll enjoy a few headscratches, I think.", you hugged the surgeon with tears in your eyes.

"Thank you...thank you so much!", you cried, and the surgeon stood there, startled by your over-affectionate gesture before he smiled fondly and patted your head.

"It was no problem. And now, I'll need to go."

You quickly let go of him, bidding him farewell as he went back to his chamber. Then, you took a deep breath before going to Melody. She was laying on that hospital bed, and you slowly apporached her.

"Hey baby...how are you?", you asked softly before you let a finger massage her head. She opened her eyes, registering your presence before yawning, and her silver fangs shined in the hospital light.

you gushed. "Whoah...", you and Bachira made, as he crouched down next to you. You gently picked her up, with her tangling her body in your arm as Bachira put the long snake-blanket on her.

"Her fangs are so cool...!", Bachira gushed as you four went back to your room. Kaiser, Ness and Hiori stood there as they conversed with each other.

You frowned. "what are you guys doing here?", you whispered, your Melody sleeping safe and sound in your arm.

Kaiser "tch"ed before strutting towards you. "You think you can-", but he held his groin in pain when you kicked him. Ness whimpered as he held his hands in front of his crotch, taking a step away from you in fear.

"Melody had surgery just now, so can you, like, maybe not?", you grumbled as you kicked him to the side before Reo opened the door for you.

Ness looked after Kaiser who gritted his teeth and Hiori stared at the two germans for a moment before going inside as well.

You put Melody in a capsule which was custom-made. She slept inside her "nest". You looked at Hiori.

"The player-switch?", you asked, and Hiori nodded, taking the choccy milk from you which you distributed towards your friends. "I saw you stressing at the banks, Hiori. I knew that you had a way better vision on what they had to do in order to score a goal, and I couldn't do much since I was a defender, so I let you in. and, well, you made it. Because of you, you, Ness, Isagi and Kurona managed for a goal."

"But...weren't Raichi or Igarashi a better option?"

"They are both idiots."

Hiori hummed while the others snorted. Ness knocked this time, before stepping inside. He had a busted lip, and you grew alarmed.

"Yo, what happened??", you asked as you placed a finger on his lip which started to blood slightly. "Ah...n-nothing..!", Ness stuttered when he felt your cold finger on his hot underlip. It felt soothing

You frowned at him before taking a special balm form your drawer and opened it. The whole room started smelling after peppermint in just a few seconds.

You motioned for him to sit down as you applied some on his wound, and his lip quivered a little from the pain and the cold sensation. Maybe also because you started to apply it on the rest of his lip as well, your finger brushing against his lip again and again. He blushed furiously as he stared into your focused glare with wide eyes.

"So, that should be good for now. What I gave you was a lip balm which closes the wound faster, and it is also like regular lip balm because you had chapped lips. You can keep the balm.", you explained as you reached out your hand with the balm for him to take.

He muttered a soft "Th-thank you...!" before he took the balm, your fingers touching, sending him a slight shock as your and his fingers brushed against each other, and he finally had the balm in his hand.

He examined it, but it was actually just .. some kind of balm in a tube?

"Where are the inprints? Like ingredients, or from what company?", he asked, puzzled for a moment as he kept looking at the naked dark red tube.

"I made it myself.", you just said before you leaned against your table. Ness looked at you for a moment before nodding, and then he asked a question he's been meaning to ask.

"Are you really going to Lavinho?"

You nodded and Bachira quickly side-hugged you. "Yep! And she'll be teaching me how to dribble like she did! aww, I'm so excited!"

You huffed in amusement before taking Bachiras head, putting him in a headlock and ruffling his hair aggressively. "But I won't go easy on you!", you whisper-yelled.

He tried breaking free form your grasp, but to no avail.

Reo and Nagi only glared at Ness and Bachira. they also wanted you to touch their lips and ruffle their hair.

...

"Whoah! you actually really suck at this, Otoya!", you bullied him wholeheartedly as you "passed" the ball to him. You were actually shredding the ball in his direction, and he mosten-times slipped and fell down.

Yeah, you were still mad at him for what he, Oliver and Karasu did.

Bachira and Lavinho were having the time of their lives when you three were dribbling. Then, Lavinho had the (bad) idea of turning on some latina music and reached out his right hand to you, his left foot placed on the ball.

"Let's show them what dribbling really means, Yena!", he exclaimed and you sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope, the fans wanted this!", he cheered before he started dancing to the intro.

you huffed before raising your arms and strutting towards him. Now, you two held each other's arms while dancing to the steps. It was a fluent dance, and the ball swirled around between you two.

Even though you had to stay on your tippy toes, it wasn't as bad as you thought. Lavinho was a great guy to dance with, actually.

While you two were moving around, the cameras followed, an so did everyones' elses gaze. Bachira found himself captivated by the harmonization of you and his trainer dancing like you two did forever, but it was actually the first time you and Lavinho danced with each other.

As soon as the music came to a stop, you and Lavinho swerved your hips before youleft foot and his right one touched the ball and you two scored a goal.

Everyone clapped in applause.

"So, what did you guys see?", Lavinho asked as you forked a ball.

"Well, the ball just--stayed between your feet, not going anywhere!", Bachira exclaimed.

Otoya laid there after you shredded his leg again. "Yena looked sex-ACK!"

You shredded his face. And you didn't care if you got in trouble for that. Also...your time was slowly running out. You wondered where Rin went.

"Exactly! Now, try to do it as well!", Lavinho yelled as he turned the music on again. You only raised an eyebrow when he shook his hips to the rythm, but both your eyebrows were raised when Bachira extended his hand to you.

"Let's dance, Yena!"

"..huh?", you made, suddenly aware that all the other boys had balls and were looking at you expectingly.

Yeah, you had to dance with every single one of them. But you refused Otoya's request to dance with you.

You had the most fun with dancing with Bachira. You wanted to dance again with him. "Bachira, would you mind if we danced again? I really enjoyed it.", you spoke.

Bachira blushed a little, but he was also very cheeful. "Sure!"

As the next song started, you two swayed your hips before you started dancing. You made actual dance steps and bachira just--well, he dribbled with the ball. It turned form a friendly dance to a competition of who could take the ball from the other person.

It was your steps against his dribbling.

Suddenly, your eyes wandered. Your gaze was locked on his eyes as he looked right back at you, then to the yellow hair at his nape and neck, then down to his arms, and when you were having your eyes nearly shut, Bachira thought you were just, well, closing your eyes and feeling the moment.

Never would he have guessed that you were looking at his hips though. they were hypnotizing in their own way, and you couldn't help but blush and pant by the way they were swaying. 'stop these dirty thoughts...dammit bachira, why are you so hot!?', you thought as you tried taking the ball from him again and again.

Still, you were occasionally looking up at him, and he grinned at you. You flushed and averted your eyes. The music kept playing. 'Just how long is this song...and why does Bachira have those, slim, slutty and sexy hips?! This isn't fair...!'

And just like that, you two danced until the last second of the last song ended. You two were panting when you were done. the ball stood between your and Bachira's feet. "Say...how come you're such a great dancer?", the boy asked, out of breath.

You gave him your waterbottle after you opened it. He drank from it. "I used to be a ballroom dancer. And, well, I still use dancing steps, even in football. It just became a habit of mine."

"Aww...I wish I went ballroom dancing...did you go to any competitions?"

"Just a few."

"Did you win any prizes? Did you win first place?"

"Always.", you answered with a smirk.

Bachira's eyes lit up. "Jeez, you're so cool Yena! I'm so jealous!"

You only huffed in amusement. "Nah, you just flatter me too much. C'mon, let's eat dinner, before everyone eats everything away.", you said as you gave him your hand to take because he was sitting.

...

Rin suddenly took you aside, holding your wrist tightly. "What the hell was that??", he asked in an irritated tone and you snatched your hands away from him.

"Okay, so first off; don't touch me. Second, I was just dancing.", you spoke as you put your hands on your hips.

You didn't want this to lead to an argument. But Rin looked like he did. Oh well.

"That didn't look like 'just dancing' to me.", he grumbled as he sztared down at you.

"And? So what?"

"Hmpf...let's go train."

"I didn't eat anything since breakfast, can I-" "I made you some homemade Spaghetti." "How did you manage to go into the kitchen?"

Rin huffed in frustration. "Okay I didn't go to the kitchen, I ordered takeout for us. Now come."

"I don't like the tone."

"...", Rin licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. He sighed. "Sorry. Would you like to go train with me after we eat something?", he asked softly- no, shyly, and his eyes were even downcast as he had a pout on his face.

You stretched before nodding. "You could've gone on your knees for that plea, but meh. Let's go, I don't want the spaghetti getting cold."

Rin sighed in relief that you didn't turn him down. You followed him to his room and he already had the table set, where his laptop would normally rest.

As you two ate the spaghetti, Rin spoke up. "How's Melody? You told me she got new fangs today?"

You nodded as you slurped up the delicious noodles, and Rin did the same. No need to eat formal when you're eating with a close friend, right? "Yep, the doctor said she'd be fine by now, and that she's very tired. And high."

Rin huffed in amusement. "Maybe she needed drugs?"

"The doctor had Malody inhale pollen, which is the same as drugs. But enough of her. How is your training going? And your self meditation?"

Rin blushed at the questions you asked, which were about him. "Great. Although I'd like it more if we'd spend a little more time together. Like...instead of one hour with you, I'd like to have you to myself the whole day."

You looked at him for a moment, mouth full of spaghetti. Rin then realized what he said when you raised your eyebrows and started chewing quickly.

"Wait- no- th-that's not what I meant-"

But he knew there'd be no end in sight after you swallowed your bite.

"Daymmm~ where did you learn to be so smooth, Rin?", you teased and Rin sighed with rosy cheeks as he frowned at you.

"Please, Yena, I didn't want it to come out like this."

"So you don't wanna spend time with me? Hm, sad. I actually did."

"I-I did too!", Rin quickly yelled right after your sentence ended.

"Then why are you taking it back?", you asked the dark haired boy. He looked down at his half-eaten spaghetti box.

"Well, because it was embarrassing of me to say...", he muttered, and you placed your box down as well.

"hmm...embarrassing, you say? I remember how you told me to not be embarrassed when I was scared to go to my first ballroom dancing competition. You told me to not be embarrassed. And that made my whole day.", you spoke, and you opened a cola can, happy that it didn't shake during the delivery time.

"Rin, please don't be embarrassed for your needs. You're one of my best friends. If it weren't for you, Sae, Nagi and Reo, I'd be somewhere in a villa, having to hear my family blabber about some unimportant business shit.

But you helped me, Rin. You saved me. And for that, I'm always grateful.", you took a sip from the can as Rin stared at you with his mouth agape in shock.

'I saved you...? But...you saved me!'

Before Rin could say anything else, a female voice rang through the corridors. "The curfew is approaching in ten minutes, please go back to your dorms."

"Ah, looks like I'll have to go...bye Rin. Goodnight.", you said softly before you hugged him.

He hugged you back as tight as you could. "when...when will you leave Blue Lock?"

"I don't know. Ego said he'd think about it, because he was the one who wanted me to be here. I don't know if my presence has improved any of you guys, but I hope it did.", you joked as you went to the door.

Rin sat on his bed.

"Yena?"

"Hm?", you turned around, and then you saw it.

Rin smiled.

He looked etheral when he smiled. Like out of a painting. You loved it.

"Thank you."

You had tears flowing quickly in your eyes as you smiled back.

"Anytime, Rin."

---

Wow now I have tears in my eyes lol. I hope you guys liked this part <3

Also sorry that I didn't really include Kaiser in this, I just hate hate HATE this boy with a burning passion idk why though

Also I wanna put in Niko, cuz he cute as FUCK, I just want Yena to shamelessly flirt with him and make him blush and stutter...

Also I have no idea what took over me when I wrote you dancing with Bachira...

Anyways, you guys can choose what happens in the next part, okay?

Read you guys in the next post!

80 notes · View notes

quivm · 2 years

Text

— Together till we're not.

Isagi x gn reader angst content!! minors can interact. no spoilers. no specific time settings (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

wc: 0.9k

genre + content warnings:

angst, sfw, breaking up, hospital, mention of injury regarding stairs, bad bf

notes!! hello quinn here sorry for not posting in a while! i made a medium ish post as a sorry almost 1k. i maybe want to do a part 2 at some time for this bc i love angst. this beta read/edited my the amazing @misiiio_x on ao3 ( check her out her work is amazing ). repost are appreciated ty <3 (๑•ᴗ•๑)♡

The bleakness of the apartment swallowed you up.

The walls hung with distant memories and past emotions crying for you to reach out again, to him. The door crashed open, a minute reaction was all that came to you.

“You’re late again.” The words could barely cross the barrier of your lips. You were hesitant to say something. Afraid for the response, afraid for the fight, maybe even afraid of Isagi himself. What this relationship had become, what he’d become.

“You know I’ve been at practice.”

The cheers coming from the TV almost blocked the annoyance that radiated from his voice. His tone was business formal as usual, one couldn’t even think you were anything more than acquaintances.

“I know but why are you back at 10pm…practice ends at 6?” The words jumbled in your mouth, tears pooling and threatening to spill as they always do.

Both of you knew the answer to the question, the very question which continued to wreck your thoughts. The question not an ounce of reassurance could overcome, the goliath that wouldn’t fall in your relationship, the very plague filling your head with delusions. The trophies lining the wall made sure of that.

For the first time in this bleak night you faced the man you came to love all those moons ago. Your very own starboy, all grown up. Different but the same, yours but just quite out of reach. Broken, choked sobbing was all that came out at sight of his defiant self in front of you. Steadying yourself you mumbled, “Am I even enough for you?”

Finally, at your words his stoic facade fell away.

“What?”

Dumbfoundness was all Isagi could muster. The porcelain walls around your relationship finally seemed to splinter under all the pressure, the truth waiting to burst through.

“Am I enough, Starboy?”

Starboy, the nickname Isagi got all those many moons ago, originally represented your love for him and his dream and your love for each other. It was meant to show his potential to go the same very stars up in the night sky, to help him believe it. However, now it was a remnant of the past, a forgotten relic of another time. Some time ago the nickname was scrapped because of a fight that occurred because of the same reason as this, you found it nothing but ironic.

His quiet demeanour caught you off guard, so you asked again.

“Am I truly enough for you?”

Were you this repulsive to him? Did he want to see you fall this low, the absurdity of it all made you scoff while fat tears slid down your cheeks.

As desperately as you wanted the answer to be yes, that you were enough and he loved you, no matter how much you needed it, you both knew the reply. The silence that came next knocked the wind out of you. This meticulous world you built collapsed around you, no catharsis, just an endless stream of grief and betrayal flooded in.

“I KNEW IT YOU SHITTY BASTARD!”

Your screams echoed against the walls, the same apartment that was supposed to be the first stepping block in your relationship. The sight for some time had started to make you feel sick, it reminded you of promises he had never tried to fulfil for you. You didn’t know what to do, whether to cry and scream or fall in a heap on the floor, rip everything in sight apart?

Where did everything go wrong you wondered, what had you done that made you deserve this, what karma was this fulfilling. In blue lock Isagi unlocked his ego, his insatiable hunger for football– for winning. But of course, why on earth would that ring alarm bells for a dumb girl who was completely infatuated and lovestruck? Isagi was your world, his dream was equally yours. You’d let go of so much, the long practices, the missed dinners, the heated arguments over football, but no they weren't the worst. That wasn’t what broke you.

October 21, you fell down the stairs, the date of one of Isagi’s team matches and landed up in the hospital. The first thing you woke up to was not your attentive and loving boyfriend who you would have dropped everything for. But, Isagi captivated by the TV, almost as pale as the walls with anxiety, but not because of you in the hospital gown bandaged up but because of the fact his team was losing.

“Why today?” You vividly remember him saying.

Deep down you knew he was actually angry with you for getting hurt and taking him away from the game, and for a split second while bandaged up in a hospital bed you wanted to feel guilty for causing a blip in his winning streak for this season. You never forgot those two words; they tore your soul apart, and every day after your love for Isagi spilled out with nowhere to go.

Eventually, there just wasn’t any left.

It was apparent that football was Isagi's love in life and you would only be a fool to try and measure up to it.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x reader #bluelock angst #isagi angst #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi

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nyxneon · 11 months

Text

Here comes my very silly and very unlike-my-style little Bleach fic...

I own nothing except my obsession. Not making any profit. Obviously.

I tried to do something I usually avoid: dialogue and humour. So...yeah. Attempt at humour. Emphasis on attempt. Dialogue heavy. Proceed at your own risk.

To be continued. Hopefully.

(I wrote this during the summer... when I was definitely less depressed than I am now. Trying to cheer myself up with a bit of fanfic.)

You can find it here on ao3.

Or you can read below:

“So, how is the boy with the oral sex tattoo?” Lisa asks.

She's lounging on the sofa, reading an abomination about naughty bored office ladies. With a straight face, of course.

Kensei sighs, shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, trying to avoid the subject.

“You've got to hand it to him, he's got balls, to get a tattoo like that on his face.”

Kensei knows he's doomed to have people comment on that forever. And says: “You know why he did it, you damn pervert! He didn't even know what it means in the world of the Living until very recently!”

Kensei would love to be joking...but it's the truth.

“Ayasegawa told him, one night we went out to drink...”

Shinji is now grinning ear to ear. He's just so terribly sorry he missed that.

“It's been the worst case of second-hand embarrassment of my life. Mashiro laughed so much she nearly hollowfied by mistake.”

“Well, and how did he react to the shocking news?” Rose asks, amused, but more composed than his companions.

“He turned as red as a kid hearing about sex for the first time. He kept looking at me, his mouth gaping like a fish, and blushing like a virgin. Unbelievable” he shrugs.

"Oh? And yet, I've heard he's not...exactly a blushing virgin after all..." Shinji hides his smirk behind yet another bottle of wine he's trying to open. It's Rose's turn to be the subject of some juicy gossip now.

"I heard he got quite close to lieutenant Kira after that fucker Aizen showed his true colours... if you get my meaning..."

Kensei nods, "so I heard, too. Shuhei once broke a guy's nose because he'd said something nasty about it."

"How poetic..." Rose is not jealous. He finds it terribly endearing and romantic. If Shinji is trying to... make him say something "unsuitable", it's not working.

"The sad goth and the tattooed punk? Damn, that's hot." Lisa finally raises her head from the manga, suddenly interested in the direction the evening has taken.

"Rose, if Kensei here doesn't make a move, you can start planning a nice menage à trois..."

"Lisa, do you ever stop thinking about sex?"

"I'm just a curious young woman, I have a healthy interest in the pleasures of the flesh..."

"Oh for fuck's sake..."

"You know, Lisa is not wrong..." Shinji is still trying to get Rose to say...something.

But Rose knows his tactics, and is skirting the subject.

"Damnit Hirako, don't enable her!"

"Shut up! You're one to talk, Mr I have a fucking 69 tattooed on my abs..."

"Well, Shinji, what about you? How's it going with your adorable little lieutenant?" Rose finally asks, with a subtle smile, while lighting a cigarette.

Shinji seems surprised, but Rose is perceptive... and knows him well.

"Oh, she gets a bit emotional sometimes, you know, but she is a fierce one. She scolds me all the time." But he doesn’t look annoyed, far from it. He looks entirely all too pleased with himself.

"Momo is a great lieutenant..." Shinji goes on, keeping on safe ground.

"Yeah, she does all your work because you're a lazy bastard."

"I think she's finally happy. All the others say that she's never looked better."

Lisa smirks. "Have you tried anything yet?"

"Who? Me? I'm not like certain degenerate captains who want to fuck their subordinates..." and he blows smoke in Rose's direction.

"Or like that lying snake Ichimaru..." Kensei adds.

"I see the gossip network in the Seireitei is still as efficient as it once was."

"You are all so crass." Rose complains.

“Did you guys hear? Kuchiki and Abarai are officially engaged. They are going to get married soon.”

“What?” Kensei is looking positively astonished.

“Not Byakuya, you idiot. His sister!” Lisa yells.

“Ah, and here I thought that Byakuya was finally going to get laid...” Shinji quips.

“They make a cute couple. It's a pity she's off the market though.”

“Lisa, I thought you liked big boobs.”

“Odd. I could say the same about you, but here you are, drooling after your lieutenant…”

“How do you guys get anything done? You just spend your time trying to bang your subordinates!” Kensei yells.

“Hey, I don't even have a lieutenant yet!”

“Thank the gods for that!”

“Well, you wouldn't even have to try very hard, Kensei. Hisagi is this close to jumping you...” Mashiro adds.

“How do you resist him? He's so handsome. And he literally worships you..."

“It's not like that, Rose. He just...still has to get over the fact that I saved his life when he was a kid.”

“Yeah, right. I saw the way he looks at you...” Shinji smirks.

“He would let you bend him over in front of the entire Gotei 13.”

“Lisa, we don't all read porn 24/7, you know...”

“You should try it then, maybe you wouldn't be so grumpy all the time! Here, smoke this... maybe it will help a bit.”

“Lisa, don't tell me you bought weed from Urahara...”

“No, I bought this from that friend of Ichigo's, the little slick guy who likes milfs.”

Shinji briefly wonders what kind of friends Ichigo has in the world of the Living, after all...

“By the way, Urahara told me that he's been working on a fancy little project on the side… He’s been trying to make drugs that are specifically designed for shinigami.”

“He said he got inspired watching Breaking Bad...” Mashiro adds.

“Of course he did, that smug smartass.”

“He's asked for Akon's collaboration. Captain Kurotsuchi doesn't know. And must absolutely not know. Urahara said he's going to give him a lifetime supply of cigarettes at a special price.”

“You damn pervert! You traumatised my lieutenant!”

Rose is looking kinda sheepish. This time Shinji has a point, actually.

Mashiro is trying her best not to burst out laughing. Lisa looks composed, but...it's just a facade, of course.

And Kensei is the only one who doesn't know what happened, as usual.

“Shinji sent Hinamori to the Third, and she caught Rose sucking Kira off in the middle of the office.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What if it wasn't Hinamori? What if...captain Kuchiki was the one to come by? Or, worse, Hitsugaya? Can you imagine that?”

Rose does indeed look a bit guilty.

“Shinji, don't be so hard on Rose! You know poor Kira needs some love and distraction...”

Mashiro gleefully adds: “And also a lot of dick, apparently.”

“Lisa, you're just saying this because you wish it was you!”

“Fair point, you know me well. But it might be...you know, good for you, in the end.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Lisa smiles conspiratorially. “I know that little Momo has been reading...some interesting things recently.”

“Hinamori is buying porn magazines from you?” Mashiro asks, her eyes as big and round as sake cups.

“Worse! She sends other people, because she's too shy. She sent Matsumoto and Abarai.”

“You must be joking!”

“You know I take porn very seriously, I wouldn't joke about something like this.” And then she goes on: “It's been...interesting. Abarai was fucking mortified. But he didn't want to say no to an old friend who has been through so much. He kept glancing around, like he was afraid his captain could find him there...”

Mashiro, always the lover of juicy and dirty gossip, is very interested. “But what did she want to buy?”

“Oh, you know, pretty light stuff, nothing too explicit. Office romance. Cute, shy secretary who gets it on with the new stylish womanizer boss… Does it ring any bells, Shinji?”

“Go for it, Shinji! It's time to put that tongue piercing of yours to good use!”

#bleach fanfiction #bleach fanfic #shinji hirako #rose otoribashi #lisa yadomaru #kensei muguruma #mashiro kuna #mine

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lostusagis · 3 months

Text

Father's Day 2024

Kamui cared about his sister a lot, but sometimes she made him do things that made him incredibly uncomfortable. Like making him tag along during her special day with their father. It's her special day with him because Kamui would rather see the guy dead on the floor in a puddle of blood. Kamui was only here because Kagura wanted all of them to be together for father's day. Originally, when she suggested it the thought made him want to throw up. But she was serious when asking him to be apart of this. So Kamui decided to agree solely to make her happy.

He was forced to agree to not start anything though. He did agree that he would, but Kamui wasn't sure if he'd be able to follow through with that.

His father had such a punchable face. When they'd meet up, what he immediately wanted to do was punch him. His father would smile, but Kamui would have to force himself to smile back. It wasn't at all genuine. He'd wonder if Umibozu could sense the displeasure which would radiate heavily off of him.

Given that there weren't any attempts to talk to him, that's very likely.

His usual talkative self would just remain quiet behind the two, though would continue forcing a smile whenever Kagura would look back at him. Kamui could tell she was worried and regretful. She was probably hoping this would be a day where they'd be happy and laughing together. Maybe if their dad wasn't there, it COULD have happened.

He didn't hate Kagura. He enjoyed being around her.

He hated their dad.

It pissed Kamui off seeing him act like a loving, doting father. The grudge he'd hold over Umibozu for everything that happened refused to subside. Because if things had been done differently, Kamui wouldn't feel this unbearable pain that would well up within him sometimes. He wouldn't feel this yearning for familiar arms around him, arms he'd never feel embracing him ever again.

Kamui would think about that every time he was forced to look at that stupid face.

''......Kamui?'' His sister had tugged his arm, forcing him out of the bubble of anger and negativity he'd allow himself to fall into. Kamui's gaze met with hers, and the worry had only got worse by the look of her face. Meanwhile, there was a lack of any sort of cheeriness that he'd usually exhibit when around her.

''Are you upset? If you want, you can l-''

''I'm fine.'' His response was immediate. Usually he was better at hiding his emotions, to avoid being asked that. But right now, that was difficult. The bitterness was unmasked. Out in the open for all to see.

Kagura would look at him skeptically, then pulling him by the arm to follow.

''There's a new diner that opened up, papi's getting us a table. I think you'll really like it.'' She'd offer a smile, that he did not return. He'd notice her attempt to cheer him up though.

''Did you steal the samurai's wallet again?'' He'd question, since he knew Kagura didn't always have money on her.

''Yeah! Gin-chan would just waste his money on dumb crap anyway, so it's going to better use with us!'' She'd grin excitedly, and he couldn't help but laugh a little. Jealousy would stem from the fact that she could find enjoyment out of the day, and he just was wallowing in misery.

When they got to the diner, Kamui sat next to Kagura and she'd sit in front of their dad, likely to avoid conflict.

After ordering, Kamui leaned his cheek into his palm looking bored. Hues of blue would observe as his dad and Kagura chattered on.

Must be nice for his father to be that ignorant of what he did. Must be really nice.

''I'm sure Kouka would be happy knowing all of us are together like this.'' The words would leave his father's mouth while he'd wear a warm smile, only pissing off Kamui even more.

''We wouldn't know since you're the one who killed her after all.''

Kamui's words would significantly change the vibe. The two other Yatos would be rendered silent.

''Oh sorry, did I kill the mood? Didn't know we were playing the game of pretending this bastard didn't completely screw us over.'' A spiteful smirk rests on his lips, bitter eyes stared at the father himself.

''Kamui stop. You promised you wouldn't start anything today!'' Kagura would look over at her brother, frustration coming over her.

''Kagura, I'm going to be honest with you. Consider the fact that I didn't try to kill him the entire day good enough because that was already super difficult.'' He let the two have their special day, but when he'd end up reaching his limit, suddenly he was in the wrong.

''For someone who's supposed to be the older brother, you're acting awfully a lot like a little brat.'' His father saying that pissed him off until no end.

''Wow, okay.'' Kamui would sit upright at the table, when forcing a dry laugh. ''Let me act all friendly despite the fact that you're the reason I lost one of the most important people in my life.

''Kamui, stop blaming papi when mami's the one who chose to leave her planet on her own. She was prepared to die so she could spend her final days being by our side.'' Kagura would try to explain, but it only made him more.

Fists would clench, as he'd heave out shakily. ''It is his fault.'' Anger led to a fist being banged on the top of the table they all sat at, leading to it being badly damaged, not only surprising the other two Yato but catching the attention of other people at the diner.

''It's not fair, why do I have to look at his stupid face instead of hers?'' His body would tremble a bit, looking down at the mess he ended up making. It was getting harder to hold back his emotions.

''I miss mom. I don't want him. A lying bastard who does nothing but disappoint his kids. I don't even consider him my father anymore, he's nothing to me. He can drop dead for all I care.'' Kamui finally stood up and ended up leaving. Kagura was going to get up and at least try to talk to him, but Umibozu put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

''Let him cool down. You know how Kamui gets when he's upset.''

Meanwhile, Kamui had stepped outside. His umbrella would shield the shameful face he was making right now, slight sniffles kept coming from him.

He didn't even want to continue hanging around those two anymore, it wasn't worth it.

Kamui needed to start saying no to his sister more often, especially if agreeing to what she wanted ended up making him feel like this.

#DRABBLES. Kamui #DRABBLES. Kagura #( pretending i'm not a DAY late posting this )#( mind was really distracted yesterday LDFKDKF )

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moriihana · 2 years

Text

we can’t fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || eighteen: desolation

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: you deal with emotions and dabi has to seek you out.

content: angst with fluff ig

word count: 1135

a/n: sorry this took so long to get out, last month marked the one year anniversary of me getting kicked out so i've been havin' a rough go of it ^^;

taglist: @iincandescenttt

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

You looked out at the destruction Shigaraki had wrought from where you sat atop a building, your legs dangling off the side and a frown on your face. The unmistakable sound of Dabi’s footsteps caught your attention.

“Hey mouse. You’re awfully close to the edge there. What’re ya doin’ up here all alone?”

You glanced over your shoulder at him before turning your gaze back to the desolation. “Hi, Touya. I’m just thinking. What’s up?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Dabi sat next to you, frustration evident in his voice. “Fess up.”

“I haven’t been avoiding just you, pretty boy—I’ve been avoiding everyone.” When he clicked his tongue in disapproval, you sighed, “I’m… tired, Touya. I miss Twice, and Mister. Himiko hasn’t been the same, either. And Shigaraki…” Your voice took on a dark tone, a snarl lurking at the edges of it. “I knew he shouldn’t have gone through with the procedure. That bastard’s trying to steal his body. His expiration date passed lifetimes ago, and now he’s just trying to cheat death. He’s scared of not being in control.

“Is it worth it, Touya? Losing our friends? Possibly our lives and our freedom if we fail? Every time I stop to think for too long, I see Twice’s body and the life leaving his eyes. I think about how I couldn’t save him. What if Himiko’s next? Or you? What if you’re next, Touya?” Your voice wavered, breaking at the end. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

Dabi pulled you into his side, pressing an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “Twice’s death hit Toga hard, but the kid’ll be fine. She’s a big girl. As for me… I promised you I wasn’t goin’ anywhere, doll,” he said quietly. “I’ll crawl out of my goddamn grave if I have to—I ain’t leavin’ ya here alone.”

Your bottom lip trembled and you bit back a sob. “I’m scared, Touya. For the first time, I have people outside of you, Nugget and Boo that I care about—I’m scared the heroes are gonna rip it away from me,” you warbled. “Or me away from it.”

“I won’t let that happen. I made a you promise, doll, and I’m not one to break promises.”

You sniffled, burying yourself further into Dabi’s side. “I know,” you whispered. “But things don’t always go our way.”

With a deep sigh, Dabi shifted look at your face, ignoring your whine of protest as he lifted your chin to make eye contact. “Doll, there’s no use in worrying about that right now. I don’t know why all that’s botherin’ you so much all of the sudden, but shit’s goin’ our way for now, so enjoy it while it lasts, yeah?”

You pouted, but mumbled a quiet ‘got it’ anyways. “What’s so funny?” You huffed when he chuckled affectionately. He gave you a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You punched him lightly in the chest, though you had a small smile on your face. “Asshole.”

“There we go.” Dabi brushed his thumb across your bottom lip. “As adorable as you are when you pout, I wanted to see ya smile.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit his thumb playfully. “Disgusting. Can’t believe you’re being affectionate, pretty boy. Gross. Get that outta here, you’ll make me sick.”

He rolled his eyes, flicking your forehead. “Alright, alright. Glad to see you’re back to normal. Seeing you all mopey and shit’s depressin’ as hell.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, whatever. Was there anything else you needed, or were you just being a grump over not having my undivided attention?”

“Ah, right—Toga’s also been mopey and shit. It’s annoying. Cheer her up.”

“What makes you think I can cheer her up?”

“The kid loves you.” Dabi shrugged. “If anyone can make her get over her feelings or whatever, outside of those hero brats, it’s you.”

You hummed. “...yeah, alright. You know where she is?” You moved away from Dabi and grabbed your cane, hauling yourself off the concrete floor—or roof, technically—with a grunt. You adjusted your knee brace and brushed off your pants, then held out a hand to help Dabi up. He took it, pulling himself up.

“I have a hunch. Not too far from here, follow me.”

You cracked your neck and trailed after him, your free hand shoved in your pocket. “How’d you know where I was?” You asked as you two walked, curious.

“Asked All For One to look for you,” Dabi drawled. “Didn’t actually expect him to cooperate, considering how much shit ya give the dude.”

“Maybe if he weren’t a creep and absolute garbage, I wouldn’t give him shit,” you grumbled, scowling. “I hate the guy.”

Dabi snorted, “We’re all well aware of that.”

You fell silent, a weariness settling deep in your bones—or maybe it was just the stiffness from the cold and sitting on a hard concrete roof. You looked around as you passed through devastation with Dabi, listening for the sounds of possible danger. Shadows of fleeing civilians moved in the corners of your eyes as they recognised who you both were. As you walked through a slightly less destroyed and slightly more populated area, you caught the sound of multiple footsteps crunching on debris. You paused when you noticed the footsteps were growing closer and reached out, your fingers curling around the back of Dabi’s coat. “Touya,” you murmured, standing stock-still. “Trouble.”

Stopping when he felt you tug on his coat, Dabi let out a dry chuckle when you let him know people were approaching. “We both know nobody stands a chance against my flames.”

“Of course I know that, pretty boy, but we both also know that support items have been made widely available. We don’t know what they might have,” you hissed, tightening your grip. “Just be on guard.”

“I always am,” Dabi scoffed.

You nodded and released his coat, moving your hand to your thigh to pull your knife out of its sheath. You kept a secure hold on it as you resumed walking, hyper-aware of the crunching behind you. About ten minutes passed before the footsteps sped up and someone called out to you and Dabi aggressively.

“Hey! You two aren’t welcome here!”

With a sigh, you turned around to face the three people who approached. You took note of the weapons that two of them held, satisfaction glinting in your eyes as you watched fear wash over them. “We’re just passing through,” you said lightly. “You shouldn’t have troubled us.”

“Tch.” Dabi clicked his tongue and incinerated the three—they didn’t even have time to scream.

You rolled your eyes, but put your knife back. “Well, that’s dealt with. Can’t believe they didn’t recognise us beforehand…” you snorted. “Alright then, let’s go find Himiko.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #todoroki toya x reader #todoroki toya x you #toya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x you #my writing #bnha fanfiction #navi: we cant fix each other #writing.txt

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clotpolesonly · 1 year

Note

📔!!

(content/trigger warning: abuse and dubcon) (also this turned into a whole-ass notfic, it's lengthy, sorry not sorry, i think about this one so much alkjfgakfg)

badwrong Declinsky AU where Kavinsky runs an underground boxing ring. he's invited Ronan a dozen times, but Gansey told him no, and Ronan is obeying that edict as long as Gansey doesn't try to stop him from racing too.

Declan has also told Ronan no, and tried to get him to stop racing, and tried to get him to stop going anywhere near Kavinsky because Kavinsky is fucking dangerous and the worst kind of influence and gonna get him in trouble or hurt or in jail or

but also.......Ronan isn't the only one who boxes. and if anyone needs an outlet for pent up aggression, it's Declan. so, against his better judgment, in spite of all the warnings he's given to his brother, in a moment of shameful weakness, Declan goes. he goes to one of Kavinsky's warehouses, he gets in the ring, and he lets himself go a little feral.

and it's fucking great. it feels fantastic to let loose, to not have to worry about the person he's hitting, to let himself sink into the physicality of it and just fight, to WIN unequivocally, to have a whole crowd of people cheering for him and chanting his name.

it's not so great dealing with Kavinsky himself. he's sleazy and provocative and casually dismissively cruel in that special way of his, but he's the one in charge here. and he likes the way Declan fights. he invites Declan back, says he could make him some real money, put him on the books. says Declan could be something special.

Declan has never felt special.

at first Declan tells him to fuck off. this was a one time thing and it's not happening again. but that only holds until the next time Ronan calls him a selfish bastard, until the next time he gets called out of his own class because Matthew missed too many assignments in his, until the next time his burner phone goes off and the reminder of the utter shit show his dad left him to deal with makes him feel like the world is falling apart around him.

then he's back in the ring. then his opponent is on the ground and Kavinsky is holding his arm up and declaring him the winner, pounding him on the back and calling him a champion. then the crowd is chanting his name like it means something more than just Declan.

after a lifetime of deliberate underachievement (and parental emotional negligence), the acknowledgement alone is intoxicating. combined with the endorphin thrill of the fight and he's flying high. he wonders if this is what Ronan feels like when he races. it's gotta be, to make it worth the risk. to make it worth Kavinsky, pressing in close behind him, hands on his bare shoulders, shouting in his ear about what a fucking show he put on.

Declan tries to keep his distance from Kavinsky, he really does. the problem is that Kavinsky really gets off on provoking people, on getting them react to him, and that makes Declan -- staid, stoic, tightly controlled, unflappable Declan -- his white fucking whale. (at least while Ronan is still playing lapdog to Gansey and out of his reach. he's playing the long game there.)

for now, he's set his sights on Declan, and Kavinsky always gets what he wants eventually.

it's a back and forth between praising him for his prowess in the ring, making him feel special and valued, and pissing him off once he's out of the ring, negging and confrontational and, worst of all, comparing him to Ronan. always reminding Declan that Ronan was his first choice, that Ronan is everyone's first choice. Kavinsky is nothing if not good at knowing what pressure points to hit, and Declan's aren't exactly hard to guess.

it takes him a couple of weeks to goad Declan into a big reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to turn the tables on him when it happens. in the aftermath of a big win, Declan riding the high, still shaking with adrenaline. Kavinsky, with one well placed snide comment, shoved back against a wall and about to get hit. pulling Declan in and kissing him instead, the bait and switch too quick and destabilizing for Declan to react appropriately at first. Kavinsky gets them off, rough and quick, and leaves Declan there to stew in the confusion and mixed feelings of it.

it becomes a pattern, sex with Kavinsky. it's not something that Declan ever intends to do, but somehow it keeps happening anyway, and Declan's never entirely sure how he gets there. especially because it's not exactly pleasant. not that it doesn't feel good physically (it does, usually, even when it's rough, and Kavinsky always makes sure he gets off) but the dichotomy of it, emotionally, doesn't. one minute, praise, the next, degradation. petting his hair with one hand and slapping his face with the other. he feels perpetually off balance, and he hates that feeling.

if asked, Declan would say it doesn't matter. it's just sex. he's had plenty of casual sex with people he didn't particularly like, and this is no different. it's just part of the whole fucked up bad idea stress relief thing that is this boxing ring. he's got it under control.

except that he's on the books now, contracted (so to speak, for whatever value that has in an illegally run underground operation like this) for however many fights Kavinsky thinks will be profitable, which is a lot. he's Kavinsky's prize fighter (he croons that in Declan's ear when he fucks him sometimes, that he's K's champion, his favorite, that even Ronan doesn't compare) and Kavinsky isn't going to let him go. the fights themselves are getting harder, and the stakes higher. word of the ring is spreading and people are coming in from all over to get a piece of the action.

there's also K's dreaming to contend with. he's not doing a whole lot with it here, but Declan knows about it, and K knows he knows about it, and that knowledge hovers over them without needing to spoken. the fact that Kavinsky has power and Declan doesn't. that Kavinsky could do anything and Declan wouldn't be able to stop him. the fact that, whatever control Declan thinks he has over this situation, he's lying to himself about it. Kavinsky holds all the cards here.

Declan comes to that realization, in truth, long before he allows himself to actually acknowledge it. he's very good at suppressing thoughts and emotions he doesn't want to deal with, and the nature of his relationship with Kavinsky gets packed into a neatly labeled box and shoved in the back of his mind where he can ignore it while he hides bruises from his brothers and his teachers alike. this is fine. everything is fine, he has it under control.

spoiler alert: he does not have it under control. also, Kavinsky is getting bored with the holding pattern. he wanted Declan, and he got him. with that out of the way, he sets his sights back on the other Lynch. he tries again to get Ronan to join the fight, which doesn't work, so he tries sowing a little entertaining mayhem instead using his new favorite toy: he starts dropping hints about Declan. nothing overt, but enough to get Ronan's attention.

Ronan, not one for beating around the bush, tries confronting Declan to find out wtf K meant by what he said. asks him outright what's going on. but Declan is not about to admit to anyone, especially Ronan, that he got himself into an abusive relationship with Joseph Kavinsky and is contracted to fight in the underground boxing ring that he specifically warned Ronan away from.

he tries pushing Ronan away, which usually works cuz Ronan gets pissy and defensive and is more than happy to leave him alone. this time, though, Ronan is determined not to be pushed so it just pisses him off. they end up fighting, as they often do. but Declan is still injured from his last match. and he's so tired of fighting. for once, he doesn't actually want to fight with Ronan. some part of him wants to tell his brother what's going on, but he has his pride, and a bigger part of him honestly doesn't think that Ronan would care or even believe him.

he doesn't tell him. he lashes out, tells Ronan that it's none of his goddamn business what Declan does, to fuck off back to his never-ending self-destruction and stop pretending that he gives a shit. he knows what buttons to push and it ends with him, alone on the ground, bleeding, knowing that Kavinsky expects him back in the ring in an hour.

the confrontation shakes them both, though. Ronan, pissed as he is, is now even more determined to figure out what the FUCK is going on. and hey, Kavinsky's invited him to this fight a hundred times. maybe it's time he checks it out.

he gets there right around the time that Declan rebels. it's been a while since he went toe to toe with Kavinsky. Declan had hardly noticed the gradual change in his and K's dynamic, the way their previous push and pull has become a lot more push and a lot less pull over time, but it becomes glaringly obvious when his aggression, once a standard part of their relationship, is met with a backhand that almost knocks him to the ground.

Ronan sees this. but he also sees the way Kavinsky shoves Declan up against a wall and kisses him. he sees the way Declan doesn't (can't) fight it. whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that.

Ronan turns right around and walks back out the door, trying to wrap his head around what the fuck he just witnessed. none of it matches up with the image of his brother that he's always had in his head -- someone untouchable, someone strong and proud and in control. someone who does things, not has things done to them. and after the last few years and all the shit that's gone down between them, Ronan is hard-wired for blame where Declan is concerned, that's his first instinct and knee-jerk reaction. anger is a safe and familiar emotion, so he defaults to an explanation that's easier to swallow than any of the other ways that what he witnessed could be interpreted.

Declan yelled at him for racing and warned him off of this exact fight. Declan told him to stay away from Kavinsky. why? so Declan could fuck him himself? so Declan could fight without Ronan knowing about it? Declan is a fucking hypocrite.

he's worked himself up good and mad by the time Declan comes out after his match, Kavinsky draped all over him (praise and affection, to balance out the slap Declan drove him to earlier, of course). Ronan starts throwing punches. Kavinsky is, of course, fucking delighted. now he has both Lynches' attention.

Declan, not so delighted. deeply horrified, actually. he somehow manages to get things de-escalated to the point of non-violence (or at least violence temporarily suspended) and tells Kavinsky to go, that he's done enough damage for one night. K only leaves, grinning wolfishly, because he knows it's true. he'll have plenty of fun picking up the pieces later.

Ronan is convinced to continue the confrontation at Declan's apartment where there are at least fewer people to watch from the doorway, thanks, but he doesn't hesitate to let loose as soon as they get there. about what a hypocrite Declan is, about the fighting, about him fucking Kavinsky, about everything.

Declan doesn't even know how to defend himself because saying that he didn't plan for this, that he doesn't want this, is too dangerous to say. because what it really means is "this is non-consensual" and he's not ready to unpack that yet, even just to himself. he's still trying to convince himself that he's got some measure of control over the situation, which he absolutely does not, and what little he had left is rapidly spinning out of reach. Ronan is still yelling, and there's nothing he can say to him that won't make things worse, and all he can think of is how K is going to take advantage of this, and this is the story of Declan's first panic attack.

it's not a loud sobby one, more like Gansey's silent one when he was down the hole in the cave. he's distantly aware of what's happening, but outwardly he's just frozen. pale and shaky, heart racing, breath coming fast, eyes wide open on nothing, hands clenched white knuckled on the table edge.

it takes Ronan ages to notice. it isn't until he shoves Declan, thinking he's ignoring him (he's done that before, when he deemed Ronan's tirade a tantrum) and that shakes loose some of those hyperventilation gasps that he's been keeping so carefully controlled. Declan just sits down on the ground, head between his knees.

Ronan has no idea what to do with that. suddenly, he's reminded of the backhand. of the look on Declan's face after the kiss with K, which he had kind of sort of disregarded in favor of being angry. it's getting harder to willfully misinterpret. harder to be mad at Declan when he's curled on the ground on the verge of tears.

he doesn't know what to do. Declan freaking out really freaks him out, cuz Declan doesn't do this!! Declan is the one with the cool head, the one who always has it together, the one who knows what to do in every crisis situation! what the fuck is happening?? nothing about this situation is computing for him, and Ronan zooms past angry and straight into alarmed and concerned.

Ronan has seen Gansey's panic attacks on occasion and he's finally like FUCK OK and figures he would actually at least try to help a little. tries to get him to breathe, tries not to yell anymore at least for now, tries the counting thing that Gansey does sometimes. he can't really tell if it helps or not, but eventually Declan does stop wheezing like that.

the first thing Declan says when he has his breath back is "get out." he says it repeatedly at increasing volumes when Ronan says fuck no. he wants Ronan out of his apartment before he starts crying, because he can feel it coming on, it's the worst feeling in the world and he knows from experience that he can't stop it after holding off a breakdown for this long. when Ronan won't go, Declan scrambles to shut himself in his room and locks the door behind him.

unfortunately for him, Ronan has moved past the angry and confused part and so far into concern that he actually tries being nice.

"look, I don't know what's going on here, man, but just…..just talk to me, okay? just tell me what's going on, you're really freaking me out. never thought I'd say this, but i can help. i wanna help. come on, don't make me kick down this door, Decklo."

Declan, on the floor with his back against the door, sobbing as quietly as possible with this hand over his mouth. he ends up opening the door before he's done crying solely because he knows that Ronan 100% will actually kick his door in, and the last thing he needs right now is the hassle and expense of getting it replaced. but he says "DON'T" and Ronan, for once, obeys and keeps his mouth shut. he just sits down next to Declan, close enough for their shoulders to touch but not looking at him, and waits.

eventually he asks "what the hell did Kavinsky do to you?"

it's the only conclusion he can come to.

Declan says "nothing I didn't let him do" which isn't strictly true, but it feels true.

Ronan asks if Kavinsky needs killing (his way of asking if Kavinsky assaulted Declan, because he's certainly not gonna ask that out loud, but the thought is definitely in his head by now. he knows what K is like better than most.) Declan is like "jesus mary and joseph, NO" and Ronan is already getting frustrated, but Declan -- so so tired and worn down -- asks, very perfunctorily and much more fragile-sounding than he likes, that Ronan not yell at him right now.

Ronan is reminded of something that Blue said once, about how all women are instinctively afraid when men raise their voices, because of the rates of violence against them. he doesn't like being reminded of that by Declan of all people. It implies that Declan was a victim of violence, which is all kinds of wrong and impossible to conceive of. Ronan is SO far out of his depth and he does not know how to handle this.

Declan can see that Ronan is on the verge of jumping up to do something stupid -- he's always been a man of action, not of words and feelings -- and he realizes that he's going to have to tell him. whether he wants to or not. for Ronan's sake, always sacrificing what he wants for Ronan's sake. he feels like shit for being resentful of Ronan right when Ronan's decides to be a good brother for once, but he's got K's voice in his head, rubbing in how much everything is all about Ronan all the time, Ronan the favorite, the prodigal son, and poor little insignificant Declan, so desperate for attention that he'll bend over for anyone who asks nicely. or not so nicely, as the case may be.

it's canon-confirmed that none of the Lynch brothers want to be seen as anything other than deliberate, even if it's deliberately cruel. so Declan wields the truth as a weapon and a shield, opting to hurt them both so at least it's not just him.

"what do you want to hear, Ronan? do you wanna hear about how we fuck? do you wanna hear about how I let Kavinsky get in my head? about how I was so fucking tired of being the only unspecial person in the family that all he had to do was call me his prize fighter and I was rolling over for him? about how he treated me like shit and I kept coming back anyway because I'm so fucking lonely and desperate that I didn't care?"

it's one of those "oh god, my brother is a person" moments for Ronan. he's never really thought that Declan was bothered by being the normal one, because he'd never given any outward indication that he was. Ronan doesn't do repression the way that Declan does, he doesn't understand it or expect it the same way, but he sure is seeing the effect of it now. it's all Declan's polish stripped away to leave him worn thin, ragged at the edges, wild and young and exhausted. angry and resentful and hurting.

weirdly, this Declan is a lot more relatable. it looks a lot more like him.

Ronan tries to think of what Gansey would say. or what Blue would say, she seems like she'd be comforting or whatever. but all he can come up with in the end is "do you need help? getting out?"

Declan's mouth goes dry. "there is no getting out."

he's tried to leave before. he's always been goaded into another fuck, or talked out of it, or promised another fight, or given an ultimatum, or outright threatened. you don't just leave Kavinsky, and Ronan does understand that to an extent. he's raced with K for years now, and he's never managed to quit him no matter how many times Declan and Gansey have tried to convince him to, even when he's sworn to himself that he will.

and K has never had his claws into Ronan as deeply as he does Declan. Ronan has never been isolated, K can't convince Ronan that no one else can give him what he needs because Ronan has Gansey. he has Noah, and Adam, and Blue, and Matthew, and even Declan, if push came to shove. Declan's never had anyone to rely on like that, anyone that he trusted enough to ask for help if he needed it. when he needed it.

but he does now. fuck everything else, fuck all the water under the bridge, they can come back to that shit later. all that matters right now is that Ronan's brother needs help. he's damn well gonna get it. and Kavinsky's gonna get what's coming to him.

send me a book emoji for the plot of a fic that i haven't written but daydream about!!

#and the answer is #Anonymous #Declinsky #Declan Lynch #Kavinsky #Ronan Lynch #TRC #fics by me

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isimpfortoomanypeople · 2 years

Text

A Spark can turn into a flame- Billy Hargrove X Female Henderson Reader

The aftermath of having your body controlled by something from a different dimension took its toll upon billy, especially as he can’t tell anyone what he faced the past month. Till one night a party celebrating the graduates of Hawkins he finally met someone he could confide in

Warnings: alcohol, vomit warning, mentions of abuse, implied smut (minors do not interact!) and a lot of teeth rottingly cute fluff (Billy may seem out of character but allow the fluff as an apology for my last Billy fic)

A/N: I went camping last weekend and this fic hit me out of nowhere so I had to write it down, I wanted some soft Billy fluff so that’s what I wrote. I’m from the U.K. so sorry if some parts sounds overly British. I apologise for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy

Billy took a sip of his beer hoping that it would help to alleviate this dread he was feeling, high school is drawing to an end. And what did billy have to show for 4 years of his life? Barely passable grades, going through half the girls at Hawkins till he got a reputation for himself and not a single person who cares about him.

Sure he has nearly the whole of the basketball team competing for the title of’Billy Hargrove’s right hand man’ but it was all superficial, all for show and nothing more.

Billy feared this lonely feeling that haunts him late at night, that he may turn into his farther, a bastard who only talks with his fists doomed to live a loveless life for as long as he shall live. Which is why he puts on this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude or drowns those thoughts into too much booze till they become slurred and hard to understand.

“Here you are keg king” Tommy slurred passing Billy another beer. Without a second thought he down the liquid as if it’s water, causing some drunken cheers towards his direction. No amount of liquor in his system could melt away this pit of numbness, for these past few months since the attack that’s all he felt. So desperate to feel something, anything. No matter how many people he screwed or parties he stumbled his way out of could stop this pain he was feeling. At least he was thankful that the government extinguished all evidence from the starcourt mall attack, now he is known as the hero who survived the fires brutal flames.

He was somehow able to be convinced to join this fireside party, labelled as the last hurrah before college starts in the fall.

He stumbled up to his feet, suddenly forgetting how his feet worked. Was it right foot then left foot then left again?

“Woah! Are you okay?” You asked catching Billy’s frame before he hit the ground

“I’m fine princess” he dismissed, trying to shake you off.

You could tell by the way he was barely coherent that it was not the case. You watched where his eye line was heading towards, it made you roll your eyes and groaned at his typical behaviour.

Fucking high school boys and the way that they believe their limit is higher than what it is

“I think that you should have a break for a while”

“I’m fine” he growled, his jaw clenched with frustration.

Who does this girl think she is? Yes he was pissed off on the surface but deep down he was thankful that someone cared for him even if it was just for a while. But his stubborn arrogance that he wore as a protective cloak for years sealed this emotion from reaching the surface, leaving a cool sense of dismissal on the surface.

You sighed knowing that this would not be an easy fight, the only way you knew how to win with a drunk person, and by experience, was to bargain with them. Tell them a fake promise of receiving alcohol hoping that they’d forget about it upon the way.

“How about we go for a walk then we can get you more beer, keg king? “ you chuckled, holding his body upright

“Fine” he sighed like a child in kindergarten rolling his eyes, hating the fact that you maybe right

The walk was more tiresome than what you thought , Billy leaning his body weight upon you to keep him walking in a straight line. But Billy is more heavier than what you took into account for , but then again he had a six pack and muscles that were visible from all directions, so you really should of thought clearly before offering this alternative to alcohol.

“Can we stop princess?” He murmured, the world spinning at a high speed that made him feel nauseous. He swallowed thickly but he felt the vomit creeping up his throat till he couldn’t ignore it. He retched and out spewed the 10 beers and whatever was in those shots he was handed through out the night.

Billy felt a gentle hand patting his back helping him to bring up the puke that held captive in his throat.

“It’s okay, bring it up”

“You shouldn’t see this princess-“ he was interrupted by another stream of vomit blocking off the final words of his sentence.

You couldn’t help but laugh about how typical this night ended, your last high school party having to hold someone’s hair back while they vomited their way into sobriety.

But then again you yearn for anything typical as having a younger brother who thought his way through demons and monsters from a different dimension . You’d give anything to have the text book high school experience that you saw in sixteen candles or even at a push the breakfast club style of normal. But no you were destined to hold a baseball bat or patch up teens after their near death experience. It was a miracle that you passed your grades with this hectic norm you learnt to accept.

You helped to lower Billy on a rock while he slowly took some deep breaths to steady his churning stomach.

You know the saying drunk speak is sober thoughts? Well this applied true to Billy especially tonight

“Billy are you okay?” You question seeing his eyes welling up with tears. Sure you and Billy have barely said a word to each other all semester, maybe it’s having a baby brother but as soon as you see someone close to tears, it drives something in you, the nurturing side of you, wanting to do anything till their pain subsides.

“You wouldn’t believe me princess” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. Isn’t this typical, no amount of alcohol could erase the past month from his mind

You lightly chuckled sitting beside him, you both stared out at lovers lake, you never knew how it got the name. Sure it was pretty and peaceful but after all it was just a lake.

After a few beats of silence, you cleared your throat allowing the words you’ve been concocting in your throat to escape.

“Well I think that you might be surprised about what I’d believe”

“No you wouldn’t-“

“Try me-“

“Fine! He snapped, he cringed at the awkward atmosphere he created. He didn’t mean to yell but you were being so persistent and wouldn’t drop it even when he asked you twice, so was he really to blame?

“I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind every day, I can’t escape this feeling of dread, like this thing is going to come after me again” he spat out these words that tasted bitter within his mouth, like he had to get these words out quickly as if it was killing him to say them.

“There was this monster. I know this sounds crazy, but my brain, my body was controlled by someone else. It made me control other people till it killed them, I feel like it’s all my fault. I couldn’t stop it, but it was my own body doing these things. I saw myself doing this fucked up shit but I couldn’t stop it, I even threatened to kill a group of kids.” A single tear fell down his cheek, his jaw clenched in irritation by his own stupidity, it was a mixture of allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of a stranger or allowing himself to be controlled.

“I know what you’re thinking, Billy is going crazy, so go on tell them! Because I don’t care anymore” the last part of the sentence became so loud it made you cower from his induced sudden bust of rage.

“Billy” you spoke softly trying to defuse the tense atmosphere created, you reached out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, to comfort him. To help him believe that he wasn’t truly alone. Sure you wanted to escape the horrors that has now became your life for one night, but you couldn’t leave someone so vulnerable on their own.

He hissed and flinched from your touch, allowing his shoulders to close in around his frame to create a barrier between him and you.

“I don’t think your crazy, my brother Dustin is friends with your sister Max. Well I know about the mind slayer and the upside down, I’ve been involved in it for years. I’ve faced life and death from monsters most believe exists in movies. So believe me Billy, you’re not crazy and non of this was your fault. No one blames you, it wasn’t you, you didn’t do this” you softly smiled again towards his direction, your eyes gently glistening.

The weight of the heavy atmosphere melted away making the air more easier to breathe. This confession felt cathartic, this weight that felt like it was eating both of you alive finally released.

Billy’s body turned over to face you once again. His eyes red over your comforting words, for the first time in a month he felt free. Someone finally got it, he didn’t feel so crazy anymore.

“You’re not lying to me?”

“Of course not Billy”

You held out your arms towards him, and for once in his life did he allow himself to feel some form of affection. He broke down as soon as your arms wrapped around his frame, like your arms removed the dams that kept all the emotions he was too scared to feel at bay. You held him as each sob coursed through his body, allowing him to feel what ever he needed in that moment. As from experience that’s all you needed from nearly facing death from something you had no choice but to keep a secret.

——————————————————————————

“Y/N!”

You groaned, pulling your pillow over your head. Trying to muffle your brother’s screams, now isn’t the time to be so rudely awaken especially when your head is pounding from the weight of alcohol that weighed heavy upon your skull.

“Y/N!”

“What?” You yelled back, throat horse and gravelly from just being forced out of your slumber.

“Phone” Dustin called upstairs.

You rolled your eyes as you staggered out of bed, whoever this is better be worth waking up for. Clutching the phone close to your head, you yawned

“Hi, who is this? “

“Hi princess, I hope you don’t mind but I asked max for your number” the voice rasped, clearly in a worse state of hungover than you.

You chuckled, feeling a large smile creeping across your cheeks

“I’m surprised you made it home, last time I saw you I had to hold your hair back” you joked, chewing your lip to stop yourself from recalling the rest of the night incase he didn’t remember or hoped you forgot.

“ I got a ride not too long after our little talk. I want to say thanks for dealing with my shit last night, I didn’t mean to drag your evening down-

“Billy-“

“But! I want to ask you if I could take you out, say this Saturday? To show my gratitude?”

You held the phone far-away from your face, as a small squeal of excitement escaped your lips, your lips turned into a smile so big your cheeks ached

“Princess are you there?” Billy anxiously spoke, twirling the wire around his fingers trying to fight this small pang in his stomach telling him this was a bad idea.

“I’d like that”

“Then it’s a date”

——————————————————————————-

Over the course of the meal you both felt this bond, it could be the way we was able to look at you in a way that made you believe that no one else existed in that moment in time, or could it be that you both finally felt like you have met someone who got you in a way that no one else did. It was a mix of the shared trauma or the fact that you were the first person billy felt like he could be his true self around, not this asshole persona he kept on the forefront to protect himself.

Sure you heard the whispers along the hallways about the blonde haired boy, enough to know that he was bad news. That he has a reputation for having a few notches under his belt, that he wore he signature I don’t give a fuck attitude as much as he wore his skin tight jeans. Dustin made no effort to conceal his feelings for the Hargrove boy, and if he knew that you were here tonight you were sure he’d combust on the spot.

You felt guilty to admit that you once fallen into the ‘I hate Billy fan club’ but that was to do with your close friendship with Steve, you were once convinced that this ‘bad boy’ act was just what he was, he was a hollow shallow boy who only thought with his dick. But that all changed the night where El recounted what she saw within Billy’s past, it was far from an excuse for the shitty way he behaved, but you felt a sense of sorrow for the blonde. He was just a kid who wanted to be loved by his own farther, but that kid felt the shame and humiliation pummelled into him by his father’s fists. Too ashamed of the way he turned out that he had to break someone down just to build himself back up again, not caring if that person was his own child. Your heart broke for the boy you barely knew, no one should ever have to go through that, it made you wonder how much he was hiding, how much he had to suffer in silence because that was all he was taught.

The boy who was sitting across from you in the booth was completely different from the person you use to hold a strong disliking for. For this Billy was charming, he was funny and you could see the ever present glimmers of the sensitive person you met a few nights ago. You felt this intriguing energy from him, pulling you in like a moth to a flame, you wanted to get to know him further, plus he was very easy on the eyes which certainly helped.

“We had O’Malley’s math class together’ you chuckled recollecting the very few memories you had together

“Oh god I hated O’Malley” Billy rolled his eyes, placing another fry into his mouth. “He gave me shit for no reason, he liked to make it apparent that I only just scraped a pass”

“That could be because you had a habit of taking naps in his class”

“Hey it’s not my fault his teaching sucked that much it sent me to sleep”

Billy was having an internal battle the entirety of the date, you saw him at his worse so it should be easy to allow him to let you in. But because of his upbringing he felt this urge to keep his guard up, not allowing you in because god forbid you ever see him that vulnerable again. He hates to admit it but for once in his life, he feels this small spark. There’s something about having someone see him, the true him, the sensitive broken inner self and not judge or pity him but just listen to him. That moment felt intimate and soothing, something he was never able to feel in all the parties or the girls he used to try and heal this part of himself that was taken away from him within the past month. All it took was a beautiful girl with a similar experience sitting across from him to realise that.

He use to roll his eyes whenever he heard the expression ‘butterflies in the stomach’, believing this to be stupid, how could anyone be this idiotic to allow themselves to let someone in. Now he knows how the butterflies felt, it felt scary and unfamiliar, he heard those rumours spread about him and the way his own father would make him believe that he is unworthy and undeserving to feel love. He tried to kill the butterflies that were frantically crashing into the his stomach lining, too scared if this spark turns into a flame.

God why did drunk Billy have to confide in you?

——————————————————————————-

“And my house is on the left”

“Well Goodnight princess” he flirtatiously smirked at you, leaning in close to seal the distance between you both

Fuck it! You grabbed Billy’s shoulders pulling him closer to you. Desperately kissing him, needing to feel more connection between your two bodies. This kiss was intense, your two lips fighting for dominance. You felt his tongue snaking it’s way into your mouth, exploring every part of it.

You groaned as his lips started to explore your neck, till he found that sweet spot just above your collar bone, you gasped as he gently bit down on the soft flesh.

“My mom isn’t in and my brother is at Mike’s. So do you want to take this inside?” You seductively suggested. This was not the way you planned this night to end, you planned on having a sweet innocent kiss Goodnight, but you definitely weren’t complaining about the direction this night turned.

——————————————————————————

Your eyes stung by the light blaring from the gaps within your curtains, fluttering your eyes open you saw billy inches away from you. You had to bite your lip from letting out a squeal of delight as you recalled last nights events, yes the sex was the best you ever had, but you actually felt the dangerous feeling of yearning creeping across your whole body as you watched him lay there.

He looked so peaceful, his breaths rhythmically flowing, his hair sprawled around the pillow framing his face in a messy blonde halo. You had to shut down the ever present thought of what would this be like to have this be your everyday? As you hated to admit this was the best you have slept in a while.

Nope! these thoughts are getting dangerous!

“Hey” you whispered, gently waking him up with a tender kiss to his forehead

“Good morning princess” he smiled, voice raspy from just waking up, he brought you close into a sweet kiss.

“Y/N, I need to- OH MY GOD!” Dustin froze in your doorway like a deer frozen in headlights. He definitely regretted not knocking first. He has literally seen a monster eat his cat but this was somehow the most traumatic thing he had the displeasure of witnessing.

“GET OUT!” You screamed in a mix of panic and embarrassment as the door was closed as quickly as it was opened, not before a pillow was thrown in his face by yours truly.

You cried out in embarrassment, burying your face in your hands as if they had the power to erase you from reality.

“It’s not funny” you cringed hearing Billy’s raucous outburst of laughter.

“Sorry princess” he laughed wiping away a stray tear, you rolled your eyes at him

“Haha, I’m glad that my pain is funny to you Hargrove. I’m never going to-“

You were cut off by Billy’s lips finding it’s place back upon yours, you couldn’t help but melt upon his kiss pulling him closer towards you.

Maybe this spark did turn into a flame and for once you both weren’t scared of the outcome

A/N: am I forgiven for making you all cry with the previous fic? I have more Billy fics on the way. I hope this fic was good, I’m super self critical lol

#stranger things billy #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

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“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier.

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears.

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock.

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway.

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser.

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you.

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information.

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him.

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you.

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground.

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor.

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too.

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice.

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed.

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours.

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit.

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat.

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules.

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock.

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you.

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine.

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag.

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all.

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss.

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched.

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality.

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you.

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

3K notes · View notes

xutokawa · 4 years

Note

ooooo the s/o finding scratch marks is sooo good:0 more pleaassseeee🤲🏻🤲🏻 maybe like samu and iwa too? but anyones fine really<33

pairings: osamu x reader, iwazumi x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating, allusions to smut

wc: 3k

» masterlist

a/n: hehehehehe yes!! thank you so much for requesting this. I got a little carried away and i really like how they turned out! hope you enjoy!

atsumu and oikawa ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

suna and bokuto ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Osamu

You sighed happily as you settled into your seat, getting ready for take off. Going home to Osamu after a two week business trip was the only thing on your mind, wanting nothing more than to run back home and into your boyfriend’s arms. Two more hours, and you would be in his warm embrace once again.

Little did you know while you fantasized about returning home to your first love, he was indulging in another, lowly moaning out their name, pushing the thought of you to the back of his head.

It wasn’t until you ran into Osamu’s arms at the airport did he start to feel the guilt creeping up from his infidelity. He knew it was wrong, to try and physically replace you for the time being. Osamu just missed your touch, seeking comfort any way he could. Seeing your burning smile, he decided he would never tell you. You were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and telling you of what happened would ensure that you would never be his again.

Once the two of you arrived back at your shared apartment, you immediately plopped down on your bed, exhausted from traveling. Osamu chuckled as he came behind you, laying down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“How was your trip, baby?” Osamu mumbled into your hair.

“It was okay, I just mostly missed you the whole time,” you replied, snuggling into his chest. A pang of guilt hit Osamu once again. You had missed him as much as he missed you, yet all you could think about was waiting until you got home to him while he had given into his urges.

Seeing Osamu visibly troubled, you asked him, “I think the real question is if you’re alright, Samu.”

Startled, he quickly came up with a cover up, “Yeah, just tired from running the shop, same ‘ole things,” he sighed out.

Giggling, you got up, pushing Osamu to roll onto his stomach, straddling his lower back.

Chuckling along with you, Osamu asked, “What are you doing, babe?”

“Giving you a massage, duh? My poor boyfriend has been working so hard while I was gone. It’s only right to give him a massage as the best girlfriend in the world,” you joked, rubbing his shoulders.

“You don’t have to give me a massage to be the best girlfriend in the world, you’re already the best without trying,” Osamu chuckled into the mattress.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Stop complaining, Samu. Let me have an excuse to touch your muscles.” You started moving your hands lower on his back, lightly rubbing as you went down. Worried filled your features as Osamu let out a small hiss as your hands moved lower.

“What’s wrong, does it hurt there?” You asked, beginning to lift up his shirt. Panic flashed through Osamu as he realized his escapade must’ve left scratch marks on his back, quickly flipping you two around.

“It’s nothing, babe. C’mon, let’s go start preparing dinner,” Osamu nervously let out, hoping you would go along with his lie. He knew he hadn’t fooled you.

“Lift up your shirt, Samu, let me see,” worry evident on your face. You thought he had maybe gotten hurt at work, wanting to see the damage.

“Y/n, stop, it’s fine,” Osamu stated, his tone turning more pleading. You grew more and more suspicious. Why was he getting so defensive?

“Osamu, take your shirt off,” You said, standing up, crossing your arms. Osamu gulped, knowing you were getting serious using his full name.

“It’s fine, really, let’s just go get dinner, we can worry about my back later,” Osamu tried to divert your attention, hoping his final attempt would work. You didn’t buy it.

“I’m starting to think you’re hiding something from me, Samu,” you shot back, wondering what had him so adamant to not show you, “take your shirt off right now or I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight,” you threatened, hoping it would make him give in.

“I'll show you after dinner babe, let’s go,” Osamu said, standing up, walking to the door. Sighing, you gave in, following him out. Halfway to the kitchen, however, you grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up.

Your heart dropped at the sight.

No wonder this bastard didn’t want to show you.

Startled, Osamu whirled around, eyes wide as if he were a deer caught in headlights. Words began tumbling from his mouth.

“Wait, y/n, I know how it looks, but let me explain, please,” Osamu reached out to you, hurt flashing across his face when you flinched away from him.

“Don’t touch me, you cheating bastard,” You seethed out, eyes burning with a mixture of hurt and hatred, “I’m gone for two weeks and you go and fuck someone else?”

“No, y/n, please! I just missed you too much, but no one could ever replace you! I love you, y/n please!” Osamu continued pleading, eyes growing glassy at the thought of you leaving him.

“Oh shut up, Osamu. You’re not the only one in this relationship. Do you not think I missed you too? I wanted to be with you every second I was gone, but I didn’t go fuck someone else while I was gone,” you yelled out, tears welling up in your eyes.

Osamu walked closer to you, reaching out to you again, “I know, y/n, I fucked up, but please, we can work this out, you’re the only one for me-”

A loud smack sounded in the room as the sting settled on Osamu’s cheek. You began walking towards him, anger seething, “I’m the only one for you, huh? Tell me, Miya, did you fuck them right here? Did you fuck them on our bed?” An indescribable pain seared through Osamu at the use of his last name. Not giving him a chance to reply, you continued, “Or did you fuck them on our couch, the kitchen counter perhaps? You disgusting asshole!” You spat out the last word.

Osamu opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Tears flowed freely down both of your faces, both equally hurting.

“Please, y/n, I’ll do anything to make it up to you!” Osamu began sobbing. Darkly chuckling, you replied, “Do anything for me? How about you pack your shit and get the fuck out, Miya.” Osamu’s heart clenched, knowing he thoroughly fucked up.

“I can’t lose you, y/n. You mean everything to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, please don’t do this,” Osamu’s mind ran wild, not being able to handle you leaving him.

“Fine, if you won’t leave, I will,” you started for the bedroom, grabbing your suitcase you had yet to unpack from your trip along with your essentials. Osamu felt his world crumble around him as you brushed past him, walking towards the apartment door. He ran after you, grabbing your wrist as you were about to open the door.

Osamu’s eyes widened with shock as you whirled around, wrenching your wrist out of his hand.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me, Miya Osamu. Don’t you dare tell me you fucking love me, and don’t you dare try to tell me you wanted to spend the rest of you life with me,” you spat out, “because if you truly meant any of those things, you wouldn’t have fucked someone else while I was away, worrying if you were sleeping and eating properly, wondering if you were tired after running the shop.”

Osamu wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He crumpled as he watched the person he loved with his whole heart stare back at him with nothing but hatred in their eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered out, not able to meet your eyes. Osamu never got a reply, the only sound he was met with was the door opening and slamming shut.

Iwazumi

The shrill tone of your cell phone ringing woke you up with a jolt. Groaning, you reached over to your bedside table, patting around for the familiar object. You rolled over to see the name ‘kawa (つω`●)’ flashing on your screen.

“What do you want, Oikawa,” you groaned into the phone.

“Y/n-chan, that’s no way to say good morning,” you could hear Oikawa pout through the phone. You looked over at your alarm clock, mentally cursing the setter for waking you up at 7:00am on a weekend.

“It’s too early for this,” you joked into the phone, “what did you need me for?”

“Y/n-chan, I have something I need to tell you,” Oikawa’s tone suddenly turned serious.

“What is it? It better be worth it,” you playfully teased, not catching onto Oikawa’s tone.

“It’s about Iwa-chan. I think it’s best if I tell you in person. Can we meet for lunch?” Oikawa asked. Curiosity and worry filled your mind as soon as the setter mentioned your boyfriend’s name. He was currently out playing with volleyball with his old high school friends.

Immediately sitting up, you ask, “Is he okay? He didn’t get hurt right? Aren’t you with him right now?”

“Well- he’s hurt, but not in the way you’re thinking. It’s just- let’s meet at lunch okay?” Oikawa sighed into the phone. After agreeing on a time and place, you get up, ready to start your day. You were excited about meeting Oikawa for lunch. The two of you grew close in high school, and he was the reason you were introduced to Iwazumi. You haven’t seen him in a while, only keeping in contact through occasional texts while he was in Argentina.

Soon enough, lunch time rolled around, and you were seated at a small cafe, waiting for the setter to show up. You wondered what he had to tell you, and what he meant by Iwa being hurt.

A cheerful “y/n-chan!” broke you out of your thoughts. Looking up, you saw Oikawa’s smiling face, although his eyes held a different emotion you couldn’t decipher.

“Kawa!” You got up to embrace him, “It’s so good to see you again!”

“I knew you’d miss me too much,” Oikawa teased, causing you to lightly push his shoulder as you chuckled.

“So what’d you need to talk to me about?” you asked as the two of you sat down. Oikawa’s expression immediately turned into a troubled one.

“I just want you to know, I care a lot for you, y/n, and I don’t want you getting hurt,” Oikawa started off, worrying you as he didn’t add a chan after your name.

“Yeah, of course, we’re best friends, Kawa, I only want the best for you too,” you said in confusion.

“This is a bit personal, but when was the last time you and Iwa, y’know, did it?” Oikawa sheepishly asked. You giggled at his expression.

“Hm, maybe two weeks ago? We’ve both been pretty busy lately, why do you ask?” you tilted in your head in confusion. Oikawa cursed under his breath, muttering something before looking up to you, his eyes suddenly holding a seriousness that made you shift uncomfortably.

“Look, y/n, you know how we were playing volleyball this morning?” you nodded in response. Oikawa nervously chewed on his bottom lip before continuing. “Well, while Iwa was changing, I saw he had scratch marks on his back,” pausing as he looked for a reaction. Your mind suddenly went blank.

There had to be an explanation, right? Maybe he just got hurt somehow.

“I’m only telling you this because I’ve been suspecting Iwa for a while now,” Oikawa started, “and when I asked him if you and him had a nice time last night, it was obvious he was lying when he replied to me. There’s no way he would just reply with a laugh and say yes. Usually he would have replied telling me to shut up, calling me shitty-kawa, and it just didn’t sit right with me.”

The voices around you became a blur as you processed this information. You knew for a fact you weren’t the one who put those scratch marks on your boyfriend’s back. You couldn’t believe it. Your Iwa, the Iwa that’s been with you since your second year at Seijoh, the Iwa that gave you butterflies anytime he smiled at you, the Iwa that would blush at your teasing, who held you tight on nights when everything seemed to have gone wrong, the Iwa who was always in your happiest memories.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until Oikawa hurriedly handed you some napkins.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I would’ve never thought Iwa would cheat. We both know his personality. I’m honestly really disappointed-”

“Where is he now?” You cut off the setter, looking down at the table.

“He went to go get lunch with Makki and said he’d go home after,” Oikawa said softly, looking at you with a worried gaze. “Are you okay, y/n?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,” you gave a weak smile. Oikawa easily saw past your smile, but decided not to push any further.

“I’ll drive you home, we can grab your stuff before he comes back, and you can crash at my place for the time being,” Oikawa softly said. With no energy left for words, you silently nodded as tears continuously streamed down your face.

Oikawa wouldn’t lie to you, not about something like this. You knew that, and that’s what made it hurt more. When did he even cheat on you? Was one of his late nights at work really just an excuse to be with another lover?

You hadn’t realized you made it back to your apartment until your car door suddenly opened. Looking up, you saw Oikawa standing, offering you his hand. Feebly, you took it as you got out with shaky legs. You couldn’t help but think about all of your memories shared with Iwazumi. How he sheepishly held out his hand the same way on your first date, how the two of you walked up to your apartment after signing the rental contract.

When the two of you reached your apartment, Iwazumi was nowhere to be found. Numbly, you went to gather your essential items as Oikawa began packing a small bag of your clothes to take. After you finished packing, you took a look at your apartment. A sob escaped your mouth as you looked around, only seeing the memories of you and Iwazumi. Tickle fights on the couch, countless nights cooking together in the kitchen, the late night movie and cuddle sessions.

“C’mon y/n-chan, let’s-” Oikawa’s voice was cut off by the sound of the door opening. You whipped around to see Iwazumi standing in the doorway, face filled with confusion.

“Kawa? What are you doing here? Why are you- y/n? What’s going on?” Iwa walked closer to you. “What happened, baby? Why have you been crying?” Iwa reached out to cup your face, hurt spreading on his features as you moved away from him.

“Turn around,” you stated.

“Wh-what, why? What’s happening?” Iwazumi’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Iwazumi, turn around right now,” you stated as even more hurt and confusion spread on the spiker’s face at the use of his full name. Slowly he turned around, not understanding the situation. Your hand trembled as you reached out for the hem of his shirt, only for your heart to be shattered as soon as you lifted his shirt. Red, angry marks ran down the length of his back.

Realizing the situation, your boyfriend turned around, guilt and worry evident in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he breathed out, “wait let-”

“Shut up. Stop talking,” you calmly stated, eyes hardening. Honestly, your calmness scared Iwazumi the most.

“Baby, please, wait, don’t leave. Let’s unpack your stuff and talk this through,” Iwazumi pleaded, eyes filling with tears as they darted to glance at the bags you and Oikawa were carrying. He needed to tell you it was all a drunken mistake, that he planned on proposing to you the coming week. You were his everything, he couldn’t let you go.

“I can’t believe,” you started, voice shaking, “you were willing to throw six years of memories down the drain.” Tears falling from your eyes.

“Am I that worthless to you, Iwazumi? Are our memories not enough for you? Am I not enough?” you quietly sobbed. Iwazumi’s heart clenched at your words. How could you think that? You were his whole world, his perfect match. Every moment with you was pure bliss to him, couldn’t you tell? Could you not tell that he would be completely lost without you?

“Y/n, no! That’s not it at all! Let me explain-”

Iwa made his way towards your sobbing figure before he was stopped.

“Get out of my way, Kawa, this isn’t any of your business,” Iwa snapped, eyes still trained on you as he desperately tried to reach you.

“No, it is my business. You hurt my best friend, Iwa-chan. I can’t let you continue hurting them.” Oikawa stated firmly.

“Get out of the way before I punch your pretty face, Kawa,” Iwa seethed. He needed to get to you before you got to the door, before you walked out of his life forever.

“Stop it, Iwa! You made a choice, and now you have to live with that decision for the rest of your life!” Oikawa raised his voice, his anger seeping through his words.

Iwazumi’s eyes finally met Oikawas. The setter could see the pain and regret in his friend’s eyes clear as day, only confusing him more. He could tell you meant everything to the spiker standing in front of him, so why did he do it? Why did he betray your trust?

Still staring at Iwazumi, Oikawa called out to you, “Let’s go, y/n.” Iwazumi’s gaze flickered to you, resolve crumpling as he truly took in your appearance. You looked so broken, hurt written all over your face. He was the reason you looked like that. He was the cause of all your pain.

“Please, y/n. Don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you,” Iwazumi’s voice cracked as you looked at you with pleading eyes, tears cascading down his face.

“I can’t, Iwazumi. It hurts so much,” you sobbed, turning around and walking out of the apartment.

All the life drained out of Iwazumi as he crumpled onto the floor muttering out a string of “I’m sorry”s. Oikawa cast one more glance at his best friends figure, whispering, “What happened to you, Iwa-chan?”

That night, two of Iwazumi’s best friends walked out of his life, never coming back.

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dracosathenaeum · 4 years

Text

The Game | D.M.

Summary: You and Draco are friends with benefits but a game of spin the bottle causes you both to rethink your situation

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader, slight Fred Weasley x reader (hot make out scene 👀)

Warnings: Smut, angst, daddy kink, baths, alcohol

Word Count: 3,651

A/N: You’ve just lost the game, you’re welcome xx I also wasn't going to post this tonight but @fuckingdraco and @dracoswift hyped me up, ily <3

MASTERLIST

FOR THE NON-BRITS: touchwood = knock on wood

You weren’t anything special. No golden girl like Granger, not a descendant from anyone of significance, no. You were just you. And perhaps that was why he was so surprised when his heart started tugging at his chest every time you left his arms.

He had been with countless the girls.

He had touched you the same as he had touched Pansy.

He had kissed you the same way he had kissed Daphne.

He had held you the same way he had held Millicent.

He had fucked you the same way he had fucked half the girls in the year.

Yet you still managed to be different.

You had started out as just another pass time, but you had lasted longer than any of his other flings, and beating Pansy was a trial in itself. She had stuck to him like glue in between other flings. He didn’t hate her company; he just knew he your company hadn’t become annoying to him yet, and that was all he needed. Maybe that’s why you had lasted so long, as soon as he realised girls started falling for him, he would pull away and break things off. But it had been almost half a year of your mutual agreement and you showed no signs of infatuation, no pesky feelings that would get in the way of good sex and he liked that.

He hadn’t grown tired of you. Hadn’t begun to find your voice annoying or your kisses dull. He still loved the way you felt in his arms, loved waking up to you curled into his side and most of all, being inside of you.

He wasn’t in love, feelings may be there, but not love. Not that he was willing to jeopardise his consistent shag of course, finding another girl to take over would be easy, finding one who wouldn’t catch feelings would be the hard part. Besides, he was used to you, if you wanted to break off the arrangement, he wouldn’t stop you but he sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to do it. He would simply wait it out, wait for you to fall for him like all the others before you had. Except this time he would give you a chance, test out your compatibility perhaps, though clearly you were both very compatible in bed.

You had both set some rules early on.

1. There would be no labels attached to whatever relationship you two had

2. If either of you wish to pursue a romantic relationship with someone else, you must break off this agreement first

3. Could use the other to keep unwanted advances off

That last one was more for him than it had been for you, not many people had noticed you before you started sleeping with Draco, but none had attempted to even flirt with you since the two of you became public. Everyone knew of course, that you weren’t together together, just fuck buddies as it were, that was all of Draco’s relationships after all. But that didn’t mean anyone dared try to interfere.

Astoria Greengrass. The younger sister of Daphne Greengrass, someone Draco still considered a friend despite their history and her feelings. Astoria however was not someone anyone expected to try and cosy up to Draco, especially considering how Draco’s arm was still wrapped firmly around your waist as she threw on a flirty smile. Astoria was innocent, she was young, and her sister had surely warned her away from him judging by the look of hurt flashing across the elder sister’s face. Yet here she was.

A 7th year party was the last place you expected Draco to be stolen from your side, but you let him go, you don’t really have a say after all, rather, he’s the one that lets go of you.

You knew the game well, you had watched the girls before you fail at the final hurdle but you were determined. You had first noticed him properly in 3rd year, started developing feelings in 5th before finally getting your chance in 7th. You had managed to catch his eye; you had learnt the failures of the previous girls and you used it to your advantage.

You finally had the chance to be something more, to pretend he loved you when he held you, when he fucked you, when he moaned praises in your ear. You wouldn’t ruin your chances. Not yet. Not when you had spent the past 6 months hiding your emotions, willing your face to give off no sign of jealousy. There was only one emotion you found hard to find, hurt. But that usually came after he was gone, when he wouldn’t stay some nights and instead left you the second he was done with you. Those were the nights that you realised just what kind of game you were playing, that in the end, you would be the one to lose everything.

You try not to look, you really do. But it’s an itching behind your eyes, fingers fiddling with the cup you’re drinking out of and it’s the anger in Daphne’s eyes as she watches their exchange that makes you finally turn and look. He’s leant against the wall with Astoria stood infront of him, fingers innocently strung together as she stared at him from under her perfectly curled eyelashes. A whisp of her perfectly curled hair falls infront of her face, you watch as her mouth forms an innocent ‘o’ before trying to blow it away only for it to fall back. Her giggle makes you want to hex her. Draco tucking the strand of hair behind her ear makes you want to shave her head. The flush that comes across her face at Draco’s actions and his hand that lingers in her hair a second too long has you joining in on the spin the bottle game you had previously sat out of.

Downing the contents of the glass in your hand, you wince at the burn before sitting at the empty spot between a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

You look up to see yourself directly across from Cormac McLaggen which has you cursing under your breath and sending a silent plea to every god and deity there is to save you from that. Anyone but him.

You cheer when the circle cheers, watch as horny teenagers practically swallow each other’s tongues. Cormac gives you a greasy smile that has you wanting to get up, but it’s better than watching Draco and Astoria flirt their perfectly compatible arses off.

“Anyone but that bastard McLaggen.” You whisper it just before you spin, hoping that it works in your favour rather than jinxes it, tapping the table leg behind you with a quick “Touchwood” just to cover all grounds.

You’ve fucked it.

It spins, but the universe is mocking you. It slows down, likely to land on fucking McLaggen. He could be a fucking prince for all you cared but there was no way you’d let that slimy shit kiss you.

You cross your fingers, willing for it to pass him. And for a while it looks like you’re screwed, but just as you’re about to feign alcohol poisoning it passes him, by barely an inch, but all the same it passes him. You watch with wide eyes as it lands on Fred Weasley by that one inch and you let out the breath you hadn’t known you held. The worried expression on your face quickly became one of relief, a look of relief could’ve been mistaken for happiness, and for a certain blonde, it had.

Fred raises an eyebrow at you, clearly not expecting that reaction from you, before offering you a toothy grin that you return before crawling to where he sat, settling your arms around his neck as his guided your face to his.

You couldn’t stop the moan that sounded at the first touch of his lips against yours. They didn’t know your lips as Draco’s did but that didn’t stop him from being a damn good kisser, knowing exactly where to put his hands and when to use his tongue. Fred Weasley was good. You briefly wonder if the alcohol was why you couldn’t pull away but that didn’t matter when he took your lower lip between his teeth and bit hard.

Forgetting yourself and where you were, you didn’t object when he grasped your thighs in his hands, pulling you to straddle his lap. You don’t hear the cheers erupt around you; you don’t hear Astoria shout after Draco as he leaves her mid conversation, and you don’t notice he’s gone until Fred pulls back to catch his breath.

You catch Pansy’s gaze from over Fred’s shoulder and that’s when you realise something was wrong.

She was smirking at you.

She only ever did that when things had gone her way, which, when concerned Draco, was never a good sign.

You were in half a mind to just turn your head slightly and kiss the man you were sat on senseless again, especially with the way his fingers gripped your thighs under your skirt. But you also knew they were trying to keep you from running as soon as you could, as if knowing you would inevitably follow the Slytherin out but wanted you to stay anyways.

Your head drops to Fred’s shoulder, breathing in a scent you could only describe as homey and warm, the opposite to Draco’s crisp, sharp aftershave, a scent you loved and could almost describe as home.

All these years and not even a magical first kiss with someone (though you were very drunk) could waver your love for him.

“Draco is one lucky bastard.”

“I’m sorry, Fred.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a game after all.” You grimaced at his tone but dug yourself deeper into the hole.

“If it’s any consolation you are a damn good kisser.” Complement a man then leave him high and dry for another, great job y/n. You were doing great.

“The second he fucks up you know where to find me though yeah?”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that left you lips, in a life where you weren’t already enamoured with Draco, perhaps this could’ve been the start of something.

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

His fingers slip from your thighs, offering you a hand to steady yourself before you take off, the bottle continuing to cause messy drama as you watch Harry’s spin land on Theo. Damn Draco and his fucking temper tantrums for causing you to miss that moment.

The walk back to Draco’s room sobered you up, head clearing and realising what him leaving meant. Was he mad that you had kissed another person or was he… jealous?

You had never let yourself hope before, but then again, you had never found a reason to.

He’s waiting for you, pacing around the room with his brows furrowed in a way that reminded you of a child throwing a tantrum. The thought of it making you laugh, giving away your presence in the room.

“Draco, I-“

He pushes you against his door, hands trapping you against the hard wood of the door behind you as his mouth swallowed your words. His hands worked quickly to strip you of your clothes as you tried to reciprocate his actions as best as you could, mind whirling as this was not where you had expected this to go.

Fred’s kisses had been new, they’d been exciting and addicting. But Draco’s? Even whilst he was pissed and rough, they were home. Lips you were used to, lips that could mould to yours perfectly instantly, lips that knew exactly how you liked to be kissed.

He pulled away to bring his mouth to the column of your neck, giving you a harsh suck where he knew would have your knees buckle, using the movement to sweep you off the floor and onto his bed.

Draco works fast when he’s angry, nothing in his mind but fucking his anger out of his system. He’s out of the remains of his clothes before you even have a chance to catch your breath. He stares at you with an unreadable expression so you match his, your features showing indifference rather than the usual lust you would allow yourself.

His narrows his eyes at you one last time before he brings his body between your spread legs, his warm mouth making contact with your cunt, tongue swirling around your clit. Your hips raise of the bed, wrists pulling at the charm that held them in place over your head as the rest of your body tries to get as close to the source of pleasure as possible.

A whine leaves you as his mouth stops its ministrations, one of his hands pushing your writhing hips back onto the bed as his darkened eyes find yours once more.

“Good girls behave, y/n.” You can’t stop the moan that falls from your lips when eases a finger into you, eyes never leaving yours.

A second finger joins the first, curling at a certain angle that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, a heavy weight starting to form in the pit of your stomach.

“Only good girls get to cum y/n, you haven’t been very good tonight, have you?” The tightness in your stomach ready to uncoil when his lips met your clit again, giving a harsh suck before pulling away from you completely. Without his hands holding you down your hips rise up, following his fingers as they pull out and away from you, his cold gaze telling you everything you needed to know.

“I’m sorry Draco, please. Please. I was so close; I swear I’ll be good from now on. I promise. Draco please.”

“I don’t think you have.”

He’s standing again, hands on his hips, tongue running across his lips, the lips that had just almost pushed you over the edge. You didn’t have time to be frustrated over the near orgasm, besides, Draco had a thing for orgasm denial, you were all too used the edging.

“Unbind my arms.” He raises an eyebrow at your attempt to shift in power, but does as you ask all the same.

Your hands reach for his heavy cock, mouth giving a tentative suck at the swollen head, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. Your hands give him a few hard strokes before you take him back into your mouth, eyes watering as you struggle to fit even a third of him in your mouth.

“As much as I love to see you choke on my cock, I don’t think you deserve it today.”

You stare up at him through your eyelashes, the twitching of him in your mouth was all the confirmation you needed to know he was very much enjoying the view of you struggling to accommodate the size of him. 6 months of practise but you still couldn’t manage to take him in all the way.

His hands cup your face as he pulls you off his cock, replacing it with 3 of his fingers instead. His fingers press down on your tongue, forcing your head back, the rest of your body following as he lowers himself over you, his free hand already lining himself up with your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

All it would take would be one small shift of your hips and he would slip inside of you but the last time you had tried that he had bent you over his knee and slapped your cheeks until they were burning. You knew when to test him, and right now was not the time.

“Please fuck me Draco, I’m yours-” You’re not done practically purring your words when he thrusts so that his hips are flush with yours, giving you no time to adjust before he starts pounding into you with deep satisfying thrusts that have you drooling on his fingers.

His hands hold yours above your head, his mouth hot against your ear as he grunts and reminds you of who you ‘belong’ to.

“That Weasley could never fuck you like I can. This cunt is mine; it’s made for my cock and my cock only, do you understand?”

You whimper as your only response as his hips switch from their long deep thrusts to sharp snaps of his hips against yours, his mouth still reminding you who you belonged to.

“This cunt is mine; do you understand?”

You don’t know if you had responded with a “yes” or if it had simply merged with a moan to become incomprehensible.

“Yes what?” His hips continued their thrusts all the while, never losing their rhythm as your body arched into him and squirmed trying to get closer.

“Yes, daddy.”

You don’t call him that a lot, only when you’re truly in need of a trap card and apparently you were as it fell naturally.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, his grey eyes turning even stormier than before as he claims your mouth in a bruising kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth and fingers finding your swollen clit again.

“Be a good girl for daddy and cum.”

You don’t have to be told twice and finally let go of the heaviness in the pit of your stomach, your walls clenching around his as your body clings onto him, mouth unable to keep up with his kisses. The sight of you lost in pleasure, body writhing under his own, the fact that he had been the one to bring you this much pleasure was all he needed to paint your walls white. You hadn’t even noticed his stuttering hips, hadn’t noticed him still before pulling out. You were still in a daze, collecting your breathing as you came down from a high you had never experienced before.

“Are you okay?” You blinked away the blurriness in your vision to see Draco’s worried eyes scanning your face, hands keeping your gaze on him. “Was I too rough love?”

You know you must look horrendous right now, sweat coating your skin, a dazed expression on your face but you still give the biggest smile your tired muscles could.

“I’m perfect.”

“Want me to carry you to the bathroom?”

“Please.”

You’re in that space between reality and dreams when he picks you up, an arm hooked under your back and knees. He places you on the toilet first, you made the mistake of forgetting once and you made him promise to never forget again.

You watch as he moved around the bathroom, eyes appreciative of the view. Watching his back muscles become taunt as he stretched was something you could never get tired of. The red markings down his back from a couple nights ago were still prominent, you had offered to heal them, but he insisted on wearing them like ‘battle scars’ to show off in the quidditch changing rooms, you had rolled your eyes when he gave you that reason.

He had charmed the bathtub to fit the both of you, sliding in first before helping you step in. You rest against his chest, humming appreciatively as he runs his hands across your skin, focusing on the way they felt rather than the ache between your legs and on your wrists.

“I mean what I said.”

“hmm?” you had almost fallen asleep, his voice pulling you out from your haze.

“You’re mine. All of you. If you’ll have me.” You’re fully awake now, body tensed up as you realise exactly what he meant. You turned your body to face his, ignoring the water splashing over the sides of the tub as you settle between his legs again, facing him, “You want me? What happened to wanting no strings attached?”

You knew the game he played well, you wouldn’t fall at the final hurdle, if that was even what this is.

“I want you y/n. I’m not going to spout some bullshit love confession like some first year drugged on Amortentia, but I can’t share anymore.” Draco Malfoy was bad at communication but good lord this was a new low even for him. You were half inclined to continue feigning indifference to protect what you had, but the other half was greedy. Draco was offering you more, how could you not take this opportunity. You had beaten the game, you had gotten Draco to want more with you, well at least you were 70% sure.

“Is this some roundabout way of you asking me to be your girlfriend?” His upper lip twitched as you said the word girlfriend, the action making your own eyes drop to the space between you. Wet fingers cup you face, bringing your face back to his as he captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. You had had lazy kisses together before, during lazy morning sex. But this, this was slow and meaningful and full of emotion. He might never be good with words, but this, this would be enough.

You pull away from him by a hair’s breadth, lips only millimetres apart. “Okay.” Each syllable you said caused your lips to touch again, neither of you moving just yet. He lets out a shuddering breath that he must’ve been holding in, a grin covering his face in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“You’re lucky you asked now, I was hoping to visit Fred soon.”

The ache between your legs only became worse as he kept you awake for the rest of the night, edging you and taunting you for hours to prove you belonged to him and that a Weasley wouldn’t even begin to compare (too bad you never got the chance to).

Waking up with sore limbs and a satisfying ache all over your body was worth every second it had taken to get here. To win Draco Malfoy.

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#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco smut #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy smut #tw smut #tw alcohol #tw bath #tw daddy kink #fred weasley

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hareharrison · 3 years

Text

hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest.

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?”

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, “now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Hello! How are you? May I pls request the prompts scratches and collar for Sakusa Kiyoomi for the yandere writing challenge thingy? I hope this is alright! Thank you <3

Thanks for requesting!! Sakusa is one of my favorites actually, so I am really excited to write for him! uwu Please enjoy!

Scratches - “Try that again sweetheart, I dare you.” (I don’t want to overlap prompts too much, so I am doing just this one!)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Living with Kiyoomi had never been easy.

When you two got married, you’d been quite intimidated by him after your husband wouldn’t look at you even once the whole day. You thought to yourself about how much he must have hated you, considering he only agreed because you two had been promised since your childhood. This marriage didn’t seem like something he was interested in, and the moment you were ‘unloaded’ at his home, you felt like the strangest organism in the whole world.

Nonetheless, you tried to be liked. If you at least couldn’t be a nuisance to him, you thought he might accept you as his partner. But all your attempts backfired gloriously. He wouldn’t eat your cooking, clean over your cleaning, ignore you after he came home from training. For the first year or so, he wouldn’t even take you to one of his matches. You were sure other spouses were allowed to go, so why not you?

But you got used to it. You had to, somehow, or else you probably would have never stopped feeling unloved and unwanted. It wasn’t what you expected, hearing about love all this time, but you didn’t have a bad life by his side, at least. His accounts were filled with money, food was delivered fresh to your doorstep every day, and though you didn’t know anyone in the city that you two settled in, you got along well enough with your neighbors, so you didn’t feel too lonely.

And what you least expected, once you accepted that you and Kiyoomi could never be an item, he started to relax too. Had you been too much? Maybe pushing him too far without realizing? Intruding on him? Or perhaps he had just been told to be nicer to you by his parents, but your surprise was great when he joined you to watch TV one evening.

Given, he didn’t speak a word and didn’t seem too interested in the show you were watching. There also were about two seats free between you, but it was a start. And gradually, your relationship improved.

»»———————— ♡

Nervously, you looked at your outfit, wondering if it was too much. Kiyoomi had never asked you to dress up to accompany him before, scowling whenever you decided to try and impress him with your fashion sense or asked to go with him. Even now, you knew that asking you to come and meet sponsors was just a way to look good in other people’s eyes; he even had a suit delivered to him that day. It wasn’t you who was wanted. It was the image of being married to someone. But as his partner, maybe that was the only thing you could do to please your husband.

“Are you ready?” he asked through the door, not daring to step into your room. He never had entered it ever since you moved in, and you wondered if it was because he disliked you so much or because he feared you were ‘dirty’. But you gave yourself an encouraging nod in the mirror, quickly making your way out. “All done!”

You didn’t expect him to stand right in front of the closed door as you opened it, almost running into him but stopping at the last second. “Do I look fine?” you asked, noticing him appraising you over the rim of his white mask. He looked comically like that, suited up yet wearing gloves and mask as if he was going to clean, but even so, you had to give it to his looks that he was handsome. You didn’t doubt your own attractiveness, but the curt, “It’s alright,” he muttered did sting.

»»———————— ♡

Had you known how exhausting these kinds of events were, you would have almost been thankful that he never took you with him before. Giving it all you had sure was taxing when you never did it before, but you wanted oh-so-badly to be accepted by Kiyoomi’s side. You didn’t even notice your own mental exhaustion until you finally had a chance to sit down.

Alone, again.

Maybe you simply weren’t fit for this kind of life. You didn’t know much about volleyball, and there were many weird insider jokes you didn’t understand. Everyone appeared so friendly, some faces still familiar from the wedding, yet you couldn’t help but notice the pity in their eyes. They were all thinking the same thing, you were sure. Just how pitiful you were to be so unluckily married to a man who never seemed interested in what you two had.

“What’s the long face for, hm?” you suddenly heard a cheerful voice, something cold being pressed to your cheek and startling you. You looked up in confusion, only to be blinded by a warm and cheerful grin, the light of the room being reflected through a water bottle and accentuating his features even more.

“O-Oh,” you stuttered, reaching up for the drink he held out to you. “I didn’t see you coming, Atsumu-san. I’m sorry, I was in thoughts...”

“No offense, but you don’t seem to have much fun,” he sighed, plopping down next to you. “It’s such a shame Omi-Omi never shows you off, yer so cute, you know? Makes it much easier to endure parties like these!”

Laughing it off, you found yourself mesmerized by how carefree Atsumu seemed. To you, all of this was a big deal, and you had always assumed it was the same for everyone. But apparently, more people shared your sentiment of the time seemingly dragging out. Without noticing, you chuckled, and Atsumu’s eyes flitted over to you before he straightened his back briefly, crossing his legs. Smirk falling over his lips, you almost caught yourself gasping at how gorgeous he looked in the ambient lighting around you two.

“That’s much better. Ya should laugh more!”

Feeling the warmth spread through your face, you quickly cleared your throat, looking away as to not stare. For a moment there, you thought he really looked like an angel, making you feel at peace around him. “I just- You know- You call him Omi-Omi?” you changed the topic quickly, trying to hide the awestruck expression on your face by hiding behind your hand a bit.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Wouldn’t recommend it, he doesn’t really like it, but it’s fun teasing him, ya know? He gets all-” Reaching up, Atsumu pushed his brows together and put on his best impression of Kiyoomi. “‘Don’t call me that, you Idiot. Work on your serve if you have so much time.’ That’s what he says to me! I’m just trying to be friendly...”

Shaking your head slowly, you couldn’t hold back your laugh as you listened to him gush on about your husband treating him ‘unfairly’. Part of you felt sad having to hear it from a third person, never having been able to collect experiences with him yourself. Still, you were also relieved to see he wasn’t just treating you so coldly. “You’re so funny, Atsumu-san,” you chuckled, and he finally stopped talking, relaxing next to you after his tirade.

“There we go,” he mumbled, and you felt his hand fall to your head, giving it some pats. It made your heart grow to receive the affection, slowly but surely making you realize you had been missing fooling around and laughing or even being touched gently for a change. “Don’t let him get to you, ya hear me? Or I’ll come and kick his ass for you!”

“Who’s ass are you kicking?” you both were suddenly interrupted, and knowing the voice, you looked up. Shame hitting you, you stood up, Atsumu’s hand falling from you as you slipped out from under it, facing your husband cautiously. “Kiyoomi, you’re back!” you mumbled, wondering if your mood change was too noticeable. “Yeah, we’re leaving,” he announced, ready to go.

“Don’t just go around touching other people’s spouses, Atsumu,” he warned his colleague sharply, his arm coming around your back. Still, not even the tip of his glove touched you, much less gentle than Atsumu did.

“Mood-killer,” you heard Atsumu complain. “Good night, [Name]!” he called after you, and you graced him with a brief smile thrown over your shoulder, waving after him while you let yourself be led out by your husband.

»»———————— ♡

The ride home was almost as tiring as the evening itself, and the streetlights passing you as you looked out the window weren’t enough to keep you awake. It was a long drive, but the next thing you noticed was a warm body carrying you upstairs from the garage. “Bastard,” you heard a voice, slowly but surely regaining your senses.

“Kiyoomi?” you asked meekly, rubbing your eyes. Blinking a few times, when you looked up, you were met with a disgusted glare staring down at you, instantly making you shrivel into yourself. A flight instinct set in, and only now you noticed he was carrying you through the hallway of your house, not bothering being gentle with the bathroom door once he reached it.

He seemed furious and disgusted, and at least one of these were emotions you had never seen him make before. You almost expected him to drop you into the bathtub as you found yourself hovering over it, but he set you down gently. Nonetheless, the sudden stream of cold water hit you like a slap in the face as he turned on the shower without even a moment of hesitation. It grew warmer quickly, but you found yourself weirded out as your clothes began to stick to you. Kiyoomi, too, barely took off his blazer before kneeling down next to the tub, reaching for the shampoo standing close by.

It was in no way gentle or comfortable as he rubbed it onto your head, the gloves he wore not helping at all. You began to splutter as you had to close your eyes, soap going everywhere on your face. “Where else did he touch?” Kiyoomi asked, almost too calm for the fact it felt like he was trying to press the shampoo into your head rather than wash you. “No- Nowhere!” you complained, ducking out from his touch and wiping away soap from your face. “What are you doing?!”

“I don’t believe you,” was all the answer you received to your question. “Tell me. Now. Don’t make this harder for us.”

“What...” you muttered, flinching as you felt his hands fall to your body, grabbing your clothes. “What’s wrong with you!” you finally yelled, swatting his hands away harder than you wished you did. Finally, you got the time to wash off the soap and open your eyes again, feeling ill-treated and confused by his actions. Though despite the warm water, as you finally managed to look at him again, you felt your body freeze.

You thought you knew how he looked at you all this time. Disappointed, disapproving, and disgusted, but this time it was different. He looked at you as if you just ripped his heart out and claimed he was fine like that, and that hurt almost more than any look before. But in the next moment, it was gone, just like a snap of his fingers, and he grabbed your wrist, tightly and unbudging even if you complained. “Try that again, Sweetheart, I dare you.”

Blinking a few times, you couldn’t decide what was scarier; seeing him for the first time up close, face only inches from yours and without the mask, which usually gave some more distance between you two, or having him threaten you. Kiyoomi never talked more than a few words with you at a time, nor did he show any interest in anything you did. “Slap my hand away again, and I will make sure you can’t use it for a long time, you understand? Don’t you know by now who you belong to?”

His questions were so clear, yet in your head, they made no sense. Who did you belong to? Who was it?

“Y-You?” you eventually muttered. “Do I belong to you?”

A question as stupid as it sounded, and yet, it eased Kiyoomi’s rage, it seemed. “That’s right,” he confirmed. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine ever since we met for the first time, don’t ever forget that. I am the only one that is allowed to touch you and no one else. Especially no sleazy bastards like Atsumu.”

“Kiyoomi...”

“Undress,” he interrupted you. “I have to clean you.”

Hesitating, you gripped your own clothes. Never before had you heard him talk like that, especially not about you. You never even believed he could have those thoughts about you, and after being unloved for so long, they felt like bandaids to your wounds. Mind you, not strong bandaids, no. They didn’t even manage to heal you partially, but who were you to complain. Because, what Kiyoomi said...

“Okay,” you whispered, slowly stripping out of your clothes. “I’m sorry... Omi.”

You were stretching your luck, but you were so close to tears as he placed his hand on top of your head. It wasn’t like Atsumu’s. It wasn’t gentle, and it didn’t fill your core with happiness. No, it pressed you down, making you lower your head and feel so insignificant compared to its greatness. But it was Kiyoomi’s. The person you wanted to be loved and caressed by the most.

“It’s okay,” he sighed, and for once, his voice sounded almost gentle and forgiving after you did something. His hand stayed as his free one helped you get out of your clothes, and laying your own hand on top of his, you felt his warmth for the first time, no glove separating you two.

And to this day, you still remember wondering if what Kiyoomi said meant that he loved you too.

Even if that meant you were living in the worst kind of relationship possible.

[You can find the prompt list here]

449 notes · View notes

mystic-sky · 4 years

Text

|✨Part 1✨| |✨Part 2 ✨| of the Friends with Benefits Series.

Your relationship with Suguru started off somewhat unexpectedly. A new semester romance, however it was unwanted after dealing with Satoru Gojo just last year. You tried not to blame yourself for the situation unraveling the way it did. You did your best to make Satoru comfortable with you- at least you thought you did.

He cut you off as soon as you made your feelings apparent. You wondered if he somehow did it for your own good, or maybe there was something deeper that went along with it. No matter, you remained optimistic. You were young, and bound to make mistakes. This was just a story to tell your children about in the future if you ever felt it was necessary.

But back to Suguru, who had wiggled his way into your life somehow. He wasn’t a random guy actually. More like a familiar face you’d seen in a few of your classes because you both were in the same major. Just so recently, he decided to talk to you.

You weren’t expecting to hit it off with him so easily. He was sort of scary looking, which led you not to engage with him in the first place. He never tried talking to you before 5 months ago. And neither did you, considering you thought he was so handsome he’d break your heart too somehow.

His arms were sleeved with tattoos that would bridge at his chest. The tattoos would sometimes peak out of his wide collared shirts if he chose to wear one that day. He had a thing for wearing these huge ear gauges that had his favorite anime on them. Though, you never noticed until you sat close enough to him to see the designs. It was a rainy day, and both of you ended up sitting beside each other in your sociology course in the back of the classroom. You were both late, having come in just after the other.

It was weird seeing him this close. He never did come late to any class you’d ever been in with him. Even if you wanted to sit with him, like Satoru, he never had any available seats beside him. He didn’t disturb you until the lecture ended, commenting on one of your anime themed mechanical pencils. That sparked your first conversation with him, and he wasn’t shy to ask you out for coffee right after.

He’s been keen on you since, and you just barely give him the time of day in the beginning. You were just cautious, after the whole Satoru situation. Suguru was fine with whatever you wanted the situation between you both to be. But you will admit, the conversations he’d keep you up with at night made it hard to not fall in love with him.

He’d take you out to dinner, study with you, and sleep with you from time to time since the sexual attraction between you was hard to deny. You think your favorite thing about messing around with Suguru was how he’d always pick your brain after sex with manga theories and better endings than the canonically debuted ones. He was a really good cook, and you often challenged him to make your favorite dishes. They were excuses to invite you over to his place, so he gladly took each one with merit. It was friends with benefits but with far much more substance to hold onto.

He never poked you about getting serious. Whatever you both had was still young at barely 5 months. He could tell you’d been going through something mostly because of how you sexed him. Sometimes you were the dominant one- you’d throw him on the bed and bounce yourself on his length until your knees were far too tired to go on. Other times, he’d steal the show from you, showing you just exactly what he was capable of.

He spread you onto the desk in his bedroom, face deep into your folds. He also loved to spoil you, like Satoru, but you did your best not to think of him when you both were together. Suguru had so much more hair to grab, considering his tongue work was so good it scared you.

“Be a good kitten and cum for me.” He said between sucks on your clit. You often couldn’t think, and that was a good thing. He numbed you in plenty of ways, he knew he had been helping you get over something. He had been doing the same thing but you could care less.

“Actually, I changed my mind.” He tore his mouth from your steaming sex, wiping his chin. You gasp as he lifts you up off the desk, holding your body without leaning against anything for support. You felt weightless, feeling his length prod at your entrance. You tried to hold back a giggle as he smiled smugly at you.

“You ready?” His eyes were sincere, asking for your consent again as he was aching to sink you onto himself.

You nod, feeling a bit nervous. “Stuff like this is about balance. Start flailing around again and I’ll drop you.” He teased. Your hands found some of his hair again, tugging on it a bit.

“Just fuck me.” You roll your eyes as he slams his length into you, making you cry out and clutch your arms around him. His large hands firmly grasp underneath your thighs, using the way your ass recoiled against his thighs to keep a steady rhythm. He’s immersed in the way your broken moans pour into his ear, fueling his stamina. He’s a stickler for teasing you the entire time, praising you for taking his length so well.

“Such a good kitten, you’re taking it so well.”

It was the third time he’d ever held you up to fuck you. After letting go of the fear of him dropping you it became incredibly easy to focus on the pleasure.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you? Don’t worry about the carpet baby, make a mess for me.”

He knew how to mix things up the way you needed. On your rough days he’d sex you slowly, more passionately and generously. If you were happy and feeling frisky he’d fuck you accordingly. He was pretty good at reading your body just after the first few fucks you had. You hated comparing the two men, but it did happen from time to time when you were in solitude, plagued by your own self-deprecating thoughts every now and then.

It was weird how they emanated each other’s personalities in certain ways. And then you found out that they used to be good friends in high school until something happened. You never poked Suguru about it, since he’d seem to get irritated when you were around groups of friends and Satoru’s name was mentioned. You did your best to be satisfied with what you had. He was handsome, smart, and possibly wanted to be your boyfriend in due time.

But you couldn’t help but think about Satoru. Not only was your experience with him a wild one, but he was fucking everywhere. It’s always like this for you. It’s not until you’re trying to avoid someone do you begin seeing them absolutely everywhere.

You stared at Satoru over Suguru’s shoulder, poking your cheek with your tongue. The audacity he had, showing up in the cafe where you both first met while you and Suguru were on a routine study date. Well, it was a hotspot for a lot of students, so who are you to say he can’t come in here.

“I think I’m overworking myself today, we can go eat now.” Your mood change was evident to Suguru, but he couldn’t put his finger on why at first. He watched you get up and pack your things before shortly following.

As you tossed your bag over your shoulders, he took hold of one of your hands, squeezing firmly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Is it something I can cheer you up from when we get back to my place?” Suguru was a bit smug about it, and also painfully intuitive about your emotions even though you’d been close for such a short time. Your cheeks went red, eyes burning holes through the floor.

“It’s nothing, really. Let’s just get out of here.” You manage to look back at him, just barely glancing at Satoru who probably had been looking in this direction. Suguru pressed another kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out the cafe. He nearly touched shoulders with Satoru and his own dame, smirking just loudly enough for him to hear.

Suguru wasn’t dumb, finally having noticed your energy change just a few moments after Satoru Gojo entered the cafe. This was your favorite place, and he hated how someone could ever ruin that for you. He felt urged to do something about it- with or without your consent. He doesn’t poke you about it until you’re in the car.

“Random question, but do you know Satoru Gojo?”

The question like a pin in your spine, making you visibly un-slouch in the drivers seat. He doesn’t look at you, feeling that would make it easier for you to talk. You take this the wrong way, and feel even more tense.

“I do, we were a thing at one point.” You manage not to stutter. You had no idea why you felt scared or touchy about the subject- you shouldn’t be. His entire vibe had changed, and he didn’t have his usual grin peaking at the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” he says simply. The longest ten seconds of silence reign throughout the vehicle. You’re anxious to turn on the radio, anything to rid the first bit of awkwardness the two of you had ever shared.

“He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” He randomly chuckles heartily, somewhat calming you.

“Yeah,” you’re exhaling properly now, “he really is.”

“We were best friends for about four years. I know him like the back of my hand. Granted, he’s probably changed a lot since high school.”

“But you’re both so-

“Different?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“If he was an asshole then, he’s multiplied tenfold.” You roll your eyes. “You both don’t talk anymore?”

You knew they didn’t, but you took the opportunity to ask anyway.

“Nah, he’s a slimy bastard. I hope karma turns him rotten.” You’d never seen Suguru scowl before. He must really hate him, you thought. Still, what a small world; first Satoru and now his ex best friend.

“You still talk to him?” He pokes again. His tone is just barely playful. God, you changed your mind. You didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“No, we don’t talk anymore. It ended pretty badly.” You say simply. You also decided not tell Suguru that the both of you messed around just before you started messing with him.

“Sorry about that. If we were friends sooner I’d have told you about him.” Suguru is apologizing for something you weren’t entirely ignorant about in the first place. You knew what you were getting into.

Satoru never tried to convince you the situation was anything other than what it was— until the end. The sweet things he started saying to you during those final months often echoed in your head- like he meant all of it.

The sex developed into something that it shouldn’t have. Sex that passionate should be forbidden if you aren’t already in love. And the things he said to you the last time he dropped you off didn’t make it any better. You wanted to slap his stupid, pretty face.

“I’m over it now.”

Suguru pans his gaze to watch you nonchalantly staring out the window. He knew better than to ask anymore. He was more elated that you didn’t interact with him at all. He didn’t need Satoru painting a picture about him in your head before he could first.

What sucks the most about dating people you go to school with is how often you’d see them. Satoru was fucking everywhere. The local restaurants, the library, the cafe, and he’d registered for two of your classes this semester. He didn’t speak to you at all, but he was always just there. Perhaps he’d always been around but since you’d been involved with him you were more aware of his presence.

You were standing in line in the library, attempting to return some books. He entered the space, and walked up behind you, standing on the line and giving your space. You turn your body slightly, peering up at him. You thought to leave, but just because you resented him didn’t mean you were going to cower every time you had to be around him for a while. You let out a sigh as you tip toed to peer in front of yourself; at least the line was moving.

Both of you had made it to the front, talking to separate librarians beside one another. When they both got up from their seats to head towards the back, he spoke directly to you, without actually looking at you.

“(Name), word of advice— I’d steer clear of Getou Suguru if I were you.”

Anger poured over you; you did your best to keep your voice low and eyes forward when saying this.

“That’s the first thing you say to me after almost a year? Go fuck yourself.”

He bites back a witty response, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Whatever. Find out the hard way.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Why the fuck are you telling me this?” You’re whisper-shouting, considering it’s a library.

“Because,” he turns to look at you, “I care about you.”

“What a load of shit.”

Satoru Gojo doesn’t care about anyone, you learned that the hard way.

He let out a sigh. He knew he had no right, but even if he couldn’t get you back, he wanted you to know what kind of guy you were seeing. He couldn’t say anything, he knew you wouldn’t listen. Not like this anyway. Both librarians returned, and gave you back your borrowing passes. You quickly departed, refusing to give Satoru another opportunity to speak to you. His words stuck with you on the way home. You didn’t have any reason to be afraid of Suguru, right?

Two months had passed since Satoru had “warned” you about Suguru. And nothing has happened to lead you to be cautious of him. Satoru hasn’t spoken to you either.

You’re sitting in the guidance counselor’s office as it’s the end of the semester once again. You typed away on your phone, telling Suguru you’d see him for dinner in a bit before throwing your head back and shutting your eyes. The heaviest sigh left your lungs, you were thankful the semester was nearing its end. You had quite enough of studying and needed to unwind.

You feel a presence on the end of your bench, making you open one eye. You see white tresses, and you catch the scent of familiar cologne.

Satoru doesn’t look at you, but he’s quite aware that he’s sitting beside you as well. You almost scoff, only crossing your arms and legs. Noticing the undone laces of your boots, you lean forward to tie it. Your loose bag on your shoulder which unfortunately wasn’t zipped, spilled small notebooks and pencils all over the floor. Spare change rolled across the walk way along with other items.

“Fuck...” you muttered. His head snapped towards you as you let out a sigh and bent down to pick up your things. Your phone that was your on your lap hit the ground as well. You saw his hand in the corner of your eye reaching down to help.

“I got it.” You say sternly, and shamelessly picking up your things. He retracts his hand, and instead gets up to pick up the items that were further away from you, ignoring your request not to help.

He sits back beside you, handful of change and pens. He holds it up towards you quietly while you attempt to fix your bag back to the way it was. You turn to look at him for what feels like the first time in forever, blue eyes pouring into your own (eye color) ones.

“I didn’t need you to do that.” You say, taking your things. You initially thought to take your things from him without a word. He went back to staring in front of himself, waiting to be called. You shifted uncomfortably, and fidgeted with your fingernails. You forced yourself into to pay attention to the soft music playing from the back of the office until he spoke.

“How have you been?”

For some odd reason though, you wanted him to say something to you. You had a lot of things to let off your chest considering the way things ended. You thought of giving him a piece of your mind right there in front of all the staff members, but you restrained yourself.

Instead, you found yourself saying “I’m doing great.”

“That’s good.” He says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t even sound sure of his own response. A few minutes of silence resumes after. You’re a bit startled when speaks again.

“I’m definitely out of line right now, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” A lot. You were bubbling over.

“There’s a lot of things, at least for me, that I’ve never really told you.” He’s looking at you now. “Can we talk somewhere quieter? Whenever you’ve got the free time, and only if you want to.”

He was offering closure to you a bit too late. Or maybe all this time you’d convinced yourself you’d moved on. You often found yourself replaying the morning he brought you home and all the things you should’ve said in that moment.

That’s not exactly moving on. Unfortunately, you also found yourself comparing him to Suguru more often then not. That’s not moving on either.

“Okay,” you said. “Later on today. Round 8pm.”

He looks thankful. Just as he spoke, your counselor called out to you to come into their office. You stand up, looking down at him.

“Cafe then?” He suggests.

“That’s fine. See you.” You shrugged. You didn’t care that much for the place. You heard him say goodbye as the door shut behind you.

You had half a mind to never speak to him ever again. Though both of you were using each other, he knowingly crossed a line, making you feel things for him in a situation where feelings weren’t supposed to be involved. And he never gave you a chance to truly address the situation. Now, almost a year later, he’s ready to speak to you on his own terms. You’d be sure to tell him you had no intentions of making amends with him. If you personally didn’t have interest in what he had to say, you wouldn’t bother gracing him with the ability to explain anything to you.

You would’ve made him suffer. He’s lucky you’re still a bit distraught about the situation. Any longer into your situation-ship with Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t even have the slightest chance at something like this.

Dinner with Suguru was transparent. He could tell something was on your mind but he didn’t pry much after his first attempt. The last time you both talked about Satoru he turned into a different person, and it didn’t sit right with you. You did your best to brush it off, assuming he was just protective over you. But Satoru’s warning in the library echoed in your subconscious more and more. Just what happened between them, and would it be okay for you to ask Suguru about it?

He wasn’t your boyfriend either, but you suppose he wanted to be? You hadn’t brought up the dating conversation in while and you probably wouldn’t until you situated the Satoru thing.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Suguru’s holding your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His smile is incredibly gentle and you feel guilty for keeping this from him.

Perhaps you should hold Suguru accountable too, for being so sweet to you like this. He informed you he wouldn’t up and leave unless you wanted him to and that he’d never say anything he didn’t mean. But after dealing with trauma from past relationships, affection like this was always perceived cautiously.

“I know,” you say, feeling his lips press against your forehead again. “It’s just not easy to talk about right now.”

“That’s alright,” he assures you. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

His lips connect with yours while his hands slide down your back. He feels you relax a bit, and that makes him smile. How could he possibly be a bad person?

“I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

You nod, watching him part from you and get into his car. You never did come to understand how he could afford it; a black Mercedes Benz-Coupe. You assumed that and his nice apartment were inherited wealth from his parents.

You wave at him before going into the station. Luckily he had things to attend to, and you didn’t have to bother making up anything about tonight. It was just barely any of his business, right?

You had an idea of what to expect from Satoru when you got there. You were rehearsing things you wanted to say in your head, some of them incredibly mean. You wanted to hurt his feelings too, if you had it in you. It didn’t take you long to get to the cafe, and you’d arrived early, already finding Satoru in the very back, furthest away from people. You gripped your bag strap, before sitting across from him.

“Hey, you’re early.” He says surprised, looking up at you from his phone.

“You’re the early one.” You say, not even cracking a smile.

“How are you?”

“Same as earlier. What did you want to talk about?”

He’s visibly gulping, and you’ve never seen him this nervous. He places his phone face down on the table, turning the sound off. You cross your arms.

“Right,” he lets out a heavy sigh. “Where should I start?” He attempts to gather his thoughts, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I’m not the kind of guy who really addresses his feelings, if you couldn’t already tell at the time we, you know... I’ve been fucked over a lot. I don’t have a lot of actual friends, and I’m constantly aware that people cling to me for my money or looks.”

He never acted like his entourages bothered him per se, but you did notice that he never bothered being around people anymore when the two of you were a thing. You prompt him to continue with your eyes.

“The only best friend I’ve ever had used me until I realized what was going on and cut him off. The first girl I ever really loved chose him instead of me shortly afterwards. Obviously, it’s not a legitimate excuse to have treated you the way that I did, but I guess what I’m saying is that I’m cautious of people and have been for a long time now.”

“But I never tried to use you,” you interjected. You felt a bit insensitive for spitting it out like that, but he really did hurt you.

“I know, and I realized that a bit too late.” He sighs. “But more importantly, I realized that I didn’t talk about or convey my feelings correctly. I know I confused you a lot, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He tried to keep eye contact with you when he spoke, but your lion like force was pretty strong.

“And when I dropped you off— I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were so much more than a warm body to me. You were the first real friend I’ve had in a long time. Things got so cloudy for me since we were sleeping together. I didn’t know how to address it, and it freaked me out when you told me you wanted more. I should’ve been elated, but I suppose I didn’t want my heart broken again either.”

“So basically...” He breathed out, “I’m really sorry. I’ve got some messy emotions, things I’m gradually learning to deal with. I’m not making excuses for myself. It’s just I never did talk about myself much when we were a thing, so I wanted to tell you something at least, and apologize. I hated the way I left things. I know it’s long overdue for an apology but...”

“But?”

“I still have feelings for you. I never stopped. The more time passed, the harder it made it for me to apologize and tell you how I feel. And then I noticed you were going out with... him, so I thought it was too late. But I still wanted to try, I guess.”

He looked so awkward, you almost laughed. Apologies were definitely foreign to him. You could tell he meant it, but even so, he wouldn’t be getting a relationship out of you, if that’s want he wanted.

You let out a large sigh. For some weird reason all the angry things you wanted to say wouldn’t come out. You wanted to be angry at him but you just couldn’t. And your heart was swelling at the idea of him still having feelings for you. Did he really mean that?

“We’re not together. Not yet anyway— it’s complicated.” You crossed your legs and leant back in your seat. Suguru probably would’ve been your boyfriend already if you weren’t so stuck on Satoru.

“Oh,” he said quietly. You’d never seen him look so small, it was definitely out of character for him.

“I forgive you,” you lean forward, holding your head in your hands. All this time and you still had soft spot for him.

“Really?” He’s surprised. Your friends will be too after you tell them this story.

“You want me to take it back?” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose.

He chuckles nervously. “No ma’am.”

“Are you... doing okay though?” He probes after noticing the stress in your brows.

“I can’t stay mad at you. And I want to so bad. It’d make my life simpler. Now I’m conflicted.” You drag your fingers under your eyes, before smooshing your own face, stressfully so. He thought you were cute, but he felt bad being the source of your distraught-ness.

“So I take it you still have feelings for me?” His voice is regular now, and just barely his normal cocky tone.

You won’t even look at him. “I mean...”

How do you explain to him that the only reason you’re messing with someone right now, who just so happens to be his ex-best friend, is because you were trying to forget about him in the first place?

“I get it if you don’t.” He says. “It’s been a while.”

“I do.” It’s almost instinct for you to correct him. “That’s the problem.”

“Ah, I see.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again. You wished you could start over with a clean slate. School and dating shouldn’t be this difficult.

Satoru thought to warn you again about Suguru in that moment, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make it seem as if he was badmouthing him so you could favor him more, he wanted you to lean towards him naturally, if possible.

Silence reigned throughout your little booth in the cafe. The sound of rain hitting the window screen made it easy not to talk so much. It also made it hard to see a certain black, long-haired male in his Mercedes Benz, parked just across the street.

Suguru threw his cigarette out the driver’s window, continuing to watch the both of you inside. He shook his head disappointedly before starting his car.

“And that reminds me,” you say, making Satoru swallow hard and shift in his seat.

“What was that nonsense two months prior, about Geto Suguru?”

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