#gimme a bit life suddenly got busy

[atticrissfinch]

Ruined

Part 2 to Gimme What I What: A Fic In Texts

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader  summary: when you and joel meet for the first time, the awkward date definitely ends up being worth it  warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no!outbreak, brief implication of sarah death, dom/brattamer!joel, age gap (Joel is 56, reader is 25), brief mentions of alcohol consumption, dirty talk (joel has a filthy mouth i’m so sorry), daddy!kink, praise!kink, degradation!kink, slight humiliation!kink, slight pain!kink, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, slapping, choking, spitting, ball-sucking, spanking, light hair pulling, light restraint, unprotected piv, creampie, a splash of innocence!kink for funsies, pet names/degrading terms (darlin’, babygirl, pretty girl, whore, slut, bitch, etc). reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab. probably more than this honestly just fucking everything, joel got v carried away…  word count: ~9.2k | ao3 a/n: thank you all so much for your love on part 1!! it was way more than i ever expected for my first fic in the fandom, so i appreciate it so much. these two definitely got away from me a bit but joel gets what joel wants and i am not one to deny him. I highly recommend reading part 1 prior to this. also no beta so pls forgive any mistakes we simply don't see them.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

Joel is half-tempted to down a whiskey before he leaves for the restaurant, but thinks better of it. He has never been so goddamn nervous. Not on his first date with his ex-wife, not his first official project of his brand new business, not even the day Sarah was born. 

After his rather indecent text exchange with you, his brain was off to the races. He didn’t want to come off as overbearing or desperate, but damn if he couldn’t get you off of his mind. 

He lasted three days before he texted again. 

[7:34 PM] Joel: Would you allow me to treat you like a proper gentleman should have done first and take you to dinner on Saturday?

[7:36 PM] You: Can’t stop thinking about me, huh? 😏

[7:36 PM] Joel: I’m a lonely old man. Humor me. 

[7:37 PM] You: I think you misspelled “horny” 😝

[7:38 PM] Joel: Hey. A man can be two things. I can be lonely and horny. 

[7:38 PM] Joel: But the two things I prefer to be are a Southern gentleman and a depraved degenerate. 

[7:38 PM] Joel: Ideally on the same night. 

[7:39 PM] Joel: So let me get dressed up. And then after maybe you’ll let me pull YOUR dress up 😉

[7:40 PM] You: Smooth

[7:40 PM] You: Who says I’ll be wearing a dress?

[7:41 PM] Joel: Again, I ask. Humor me. 

[7:41 PM] Joel: 7 PM, Olivio’s?

[7:43 PM] You: I’ll be the one in the dress

It’s true, he hadn’t been on a date in years. Over a decade, if he’s really counting. After everything that happened with his ex and Sarah…well, he’d spent a lot of time picking up his own pieces and attempting to weld them back together with nothing but a heat gun and several bottles of whiskey. And a lot of meaningless sex.

Tommy had helped, but he had his own life and family to care for. Joel does like Maria, even if she is a bit tender-footed with him most of the time. And damn it, does he love his niece. But sometimes when he looks at that rambunctious, golden-hearted tornado, he feels like his stomach has suddenly taken residency in his throat. She’s got a lot of Tommy’s features. Many of which are also Joel’s features. 

And many of which were also Sarah’s. 

Joel can’t quite put his finger on the reason he asks you out on a date. He is certainly no stranger to one-night-stands or fuck buddies. There was something about the way you seemed to completely disarm him without even trying. The way you made him laugh right off the bat. The way you responded so readily to his brand of dirty talk.

Shit, it also helps that you might be the most gorgeous young woman he’s seen in a long time. He may be old, but he is definitely not blind. If you like experienced older men, he’s got an extraordinarily willing one for you right here. He sincerely hopes you’re just as beautiful in person and not playing him for a fool. 

He checks himself for the tenth or eleventh time in the mirror, ensuring the buttons on his white button-up aren’t accidentally asymmetrical and that an appropriate amount of his chest is showing–trying his best to walk the fine line of “dressed up, but not too dressed up”. 

He went back and forth on the tie, ultimately deciding it might be a tad too much. He does choose a nice belt buckle–a sleek oval with engraved Texas wildflowers and a steer’s skull in the center. He adjusts and readjusts the buckle so it sits just right below the belly of his tucked shirt. He knows his stomach has gotten a little soft over the years, a long way from when he used to care about having a more trim and toned body. 

But he’s never been self-conscious about it; his body does what it needs to do to get the job done, if not for his damned knees and lower back. But he’s been content with himself, not too bothered. 

Until tonight, that is. 

He shakes it off, nothing to be done about it now. He just hopes she likes her men a little soft in the stomach, but hard where it counts. Besides, if he has it his way, by the end of the night you’ll be craving every inch of him regardless of how he looks.

He finishes up by rolling the sleeves on his shirt to the tops of his forearms. He does know he has nice arms. If construction does anything, it does guarantee that. He figures he should play to his strengths. Not to mention he fucking hates the feeling of tight, buttoned sleeve cuffs around his wrists. 

He checks the time on his watch, muttering a “shit” as he jumps into gear and hurries out the door. 

---

The moment he lays eyes on you, he’s absolutely positive he must be dreaming. There was no way you look as good as you did in your picture—hell, better. 

You did wear a dress. A flouncy little lavender thing that molds to your breasts perfectly while still putting your cleavage on display, making his dry, nervous mouth suddenly feel like a water slide—one he would love for you to ride on. His eyes slip down to where the dress lands a little higher than mid-thigh. Enough to still be decent, but enough to still look plenty indecent. 

When he catches your eye, you light up, and it might be the most breathtaking sight he’s ever witnessed. He jumps up from his seat at the table reserved for the two of you and reaches for your hand to place a light kiss to the back of it. Lips still hovering over your skin he says, “You look absolutely stunning, darlin’. Prettier n’a picture.” He allows you to relinquish your hand and hurries to pull your chair out for you. You give a small giggle at the gesture and offer him a polite thank you as he scoots you in closer to the table. 

Before he can help himself, he dips low by your ear and whispers, “Somehow even prettier than your pictures. I didn’t know that was possible.” You blush slightly at the words and Joel strolls back to his seat across from you. 

“And you are mighty handsome, Joel Miller. I’m very glad that I was right.” 

You glance at the table, taking in the small bouquet of flowers laying on the center of the table. 

“Oh!” Joel hops up again, swiftly picking up the bouquet and rounding the table to offer them properly. “Almost forgot. For you, of course.” He shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, got so distracted with you walkin’ in all…perfect and such.”

You gift him a light laugh in return, pressing the flowers to your nose and inhaling. “They’re beautiful, thank you, Joel.”

Joel nods matter-of-factly, giving you a bit of an awkward smile. “I apologize, my dating skills are a little rusty.”

“You’re just fine,” you say with another small laugh. “I’m gonna go run these to my car, okay? So we’ve got some room on the table.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about where you’d have to put ‘em, I just wanted to be polite—”

“Joel,” you gently interrupt as you stand with a delicate hand on his shoulder and the flowers pressed against your chest, “I love them.” You make sure he is making eye contact with you when you deliberately nod reassuringly. 

You smile at him again, sliding your hand down his shoulder to his bicep, squeezing so lightly he’s not entirely sure you actually meant to do it, before letting go and winking at him over your shoulder as you head out to your car. 

Oh, you definitely meant to do it. Joel looks down sheepishly, smiling a little to himself. He feels the tips of his ears heating up. You called him handsome. You squeezed his bicep. You loved the flowers. Fuck, he’s got to shake off this awkwardness. It is not doing him any favors. He stretches his neck from side to side, rubbing it as he takes his seat again. 

The second time you approach the table, you look just as radiant. When he stands again to help you into your seat, you bypass your chair and press a soft hand to his chest. “I can pull out my own chair, but thank you. And thank you for the flowers.” You lean in on your tip-toes and give him a peck on the cheek. Pink rapidly starts to bloom where your lips had been and he tilts his head in gratitude, only retaking his seat once you’ve taken yours. 

Right then the server appears, and you order a white wine. Joel takes that as his cue to finally have that glass of whiskey he’s been yearning for, for about the past three hours. 

As the server leaves, Joel’s brows scrunch together as he looks up at you. “How the hell are you so good at this? I feel like I’m flounderin’ to impress you here.”

You shrug, a smile dancing at your lips once more—god, he could watch that smile for hours and not get bored a single second of it. “You remember I told you that I typically know what I want.”

“I do. And I greatly admire it right about now. Feel like a goddamn fish outta water.”

“So many fish similes,” you tease, taking a sip of your water that had been set with the table. 

“I’m doin’ my best out here,” he sighs, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. 

“I think the good news is it can only get better from here,” you tease again with a smirk. “I can wade through the awkwardness because I know full well what’s on the other side of it.” Your eyes dip down ostentatiously to what you know sits just below the lip of the table, and then slowly rake back up Joel’s torso to his lips, finally meeting the spark that has ignited in Joel’s own eyes. “Unless you end up being all bark and no bite,” you add with an innocent lilt to your voice. 

Joel feels a low growl travel up his throat. “Oh, I bite.”

The server chooses that moment to deliver your drinks. Joel clears his throat a little, shifting in his seat as he wills the prickling of arousal in his body to subside for the moment. As she sets down your wine, you offer a quiet thank you to the server, then glance again at Joel and respond with a simple, “Good.”

The banter comes easier after that. It seems like neither of you can really help the sexually-charged quips that keep slithering out of each other. In a way, Joel is grateful for it. Sex he’s comfortable with. He can do sex. Romance, not so much. And as much fun as he’s having playing the gentleman with you, he is itching to show you what he truly has to offer. Prove that he is bark and bite. See those perfect tits spill out of that pretty dress like they’ve been fighting to do all throughout dinner. 

When the check arrives, Joel immediately reaches for his wallet. 

“Do I need to do that thing where I pretend like I want to help pay, or can we just skip that?” 

Joel flicks his eyes over to you with raised brows before he slides his card into the black check presenter and hands it to the server with a polite smile and an expression of gratitude. When the server is on her way, Joel lets out a small chuckle and looks back at you. “Oh, you’re gonna pay, darlin’. You’re in charge of dessert.”

You quirk an eyebrow back at him. “Am I now?”

Joel nods, running his thumb back and forth over the rim of his empty whiskey tumbler. “I’m in the mood for somethin’ juicy and sweet. Any ideas?”

Your tongue mindlessly, mesmerizingly caresses the straw in your water. “Something with whipped cream and a cherry on top maybe?”

Joel scoffs, leaning in across the table with a harsh whisper, “I know a goddamn slut like you don’t still got her cherry, but you better believe if you did I’d be popping it tonight while you screamed out my name.”

A wicked smile crosses your face as you adopt an innocent cadence to your voice. “But I do still have my cherry, daddy.”

That goddamn name again. With that goddamn voice to go with it. “Fuuuuck me,” he mutters, desperately wishing he had another whiskey to toss back. But he fully intends on taking you back to his place as soon as the server returns. “You better knock that shit off real quick or this restaurant is ‘bout to get a front-row seat to me spreadin’ open your precious unpopped cherry, little girl.”

You meet him with a determined look of your own, squinting your eyes with a challenge. “You don’t have the guts, old man.”

Joel is about to leap out of his chair when the server cheerily places down the black book and thanks you both for dining before leaving again. Joel snatches his card from the book and shoves it into his wallet before leveling a finger at you. “You need to learn some manners, babygirl. ‘F you agree to follow me to my place, daddy will teach you those manners.”

Your eyes flicker from his pointed finger to his eyes. “I can be very stubborn.”

Joel smirks. “I like ‘em stubborn. Makes it all the sweeter when they finally break for me.”

That line gets you. You swallow. “Fuck.”

Joel scribbles in a generous tip on the receipt, mostly grateful that the server didn’t hover much and left the two of you to flirt awkwardly (in his case) in peace. He gets up and offers you his hand to help you stand. When you take it, he hauls you up close to him as you let out an unexpected gasp. He drifts his mouth to your ear like he had earlier, but this time his words are far less congenial. “Think very carefully about whether you decide to follow me, babygirl. Because I fully intend on fuckin’ ruinin’ you for every other goddamn man who even thinks about this cunt.”

As Joel heads out the front doors and pulls his car out onto the street, he doesn't even look back to see if you’re following. 

He knows you are.

 So far, Joel is fucking perfect. You love how awkward he was trying to impress you. You love how he gradually transitioned into that dominant personality when he became more comfortable. And you love that, when it comes to sex, he seems to be able to read you like a fucking book. 

Like, the man bought you fucking flowers. Come on. Who the hell buys flowers for a first date anymore? 

Maybe a guy who probably did most of his dating in the eighties and nineties, you guess. 

But seriously, how were you not expected to open your legs at the first chance? He’s straight out of a dirty rom-com. The way his sexual banter comes so easy to him, dishing it out as well as he can take it. Threatening to fuck you in the middle of a restaurant. Whispering in your ear how he’s going to destroy you for other men. 

If it turns out he can, you decide, you’re going to fucking let him. 

Joel’s pickup rolls up the driveway of a nice suburban home, on a nice suburban street. You follow suit, pulling up the drive next to him. Before you even have your seatbelt off, Joel is opening your door for you and holding his hand out for yours. 

“Such a gentleman,” you purr playfully, accepting his hand. You’re pretty sure you hear him mutter under his breath, “Not for long.” That makes you smile. He drops your hand in favor of placing his on the small of your back, guiding you up the front steps to the door. 

You almost expect him to jump you the second he unlocks the door, but he doesn’t. Once you’re both over the threshold, he presses the door closed behind him with his back and leans against it, his arms folding across his chest. 

You give him a sultry look, taking one step toward him. Before you can take another step, he holds a finger up, indicating for you to wait. You wait. 

“Now before we do this,” he starts, his voice calm and velvety in the tension-filled air, “I want to make sure I’m not gonna spook ya.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna spook me, daddy.”

His head tilts away the slightest bit at the word, and you see a flex in his jaw. “Regardless. I wanna clarify. Is there anythin’ I said to you during that…text conversation…that you didn’t like?”

Your heart swells a little at his deliberate consideration. It is so rare for a guy to actually make you feel safe and reckless at the same time. “Not a single thing,” you breathe, shaking your head. “Trust me, I’ve read it over about a thousand times at this point.”

You have. You didn’t want to bother him much after it happened, hoping he would make the first move. Instead, you just read the conversation over and over, your eyes lingering over his filthy words as you allowed him to bring you to orgasm two, three, five times over the few days Joel hadn’t reached out, just through his written words. 

Lucky for you, he did make the first move. And now you hope—fear—that he might be getting ready to give you the best night of your life. 

His eyes trace over your face, deciding you were telling the truth. “Well,” he flexes his biceps as they stretch across his chest, and looks down at the hardwood floor for a moment before meeting your eyes once more, “I can get a little intense. I’m a man who likes bein’ in charge, who likes puttin’ little troublemakers like you in their place. I may slap you, I may choke you, I may spank you. That okay with you?”

You nod eagerly. 

“Your face is real pretty, darlin’, but I need you to say it. Let me hear that pretty voice too.”

You clear your throat. “Yes. That’s okay with me.”

Shit is it ever okay with you. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so okay with something. You’ve experimented plenty, tested the waters of more kinks than you can count on both your hands (as well as your toes if we’re being honest). You know exactly how you like to be treated. You already feel yourself shivering the tiniest bit with excitement and possibility. 

“You have a safeword?”

You nod. “Honeysuckle.”

“Alright. You use that word if you need to, for any reason, and we stop. No questions asked. Otherwise, I’m gonna assume everythin’ is fine and I’m gonna keep goin’. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he rolls off the door at his back and saunters over to you, gripping your chin in his large hand. His thumb catches and drags along your jaw with a callused touch that you think you could quickly get addicted to. As he speaks, you feel his breath ghost over your lips, “We’re gonna have some fun, aren’t we, babygirl?”

Your eyes flutter closed as his nose traces up and down the shell of your ear, completely losing yourself in the sensation of him being near you. 

“Answer me, babygirl,” he orders quietly but firmly into your ear. 

You swallow and nod your head, “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” The combination of his praise and the intimacy of his deep voice floating into your ear has goosebumps shooting across your flesh. “That’s what you call me. Daddy or Sir. Is that clear?”

You quirk up the corner of your mouth. “Not ‘Mr. Miller’?” 

You don’t anticipate the sharp smack that lands on your cheek, whipping your head to the side. You feel the sting immediately after, and you have the insane thought that you want him to do it again. He jerks you back by your chin to look at him, eyes unflinchingly blazing into you. “I’ve already told you once not to call me that. Or were you lyin’ through your teeth about readin’ those texts a thousand times?”

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the smile that spreads on your lips. “I remember, sir,” you reply, testing the new term on your tongue to see how it feels. You like that one too, you decide. 

“Seems like you fuckin’ forgot. I hope, for your sake, you got a better memory goin’ forward.” Your eyes catch Joel flexing his hand at his side, probably shaking out the smart of your face against his palm. “‘N you better wipe that goddamn smile off your face. Little girl’s got a fuckin’ death wish.”

You struggle to rein in your smile, biting into your lower lip. “Yes, sir.”

Joel’s hands find your hips, walking you back until you hit a wall. He inhales deeply into the crook of your neck, shaking his head as he exhales. “Nothin’ but trouble, just like I said.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you sigh as Joel’s mouth sucks wet kisses into your neck and down to your collarbone. 

“Not yet you ain’t,” he grumbles into your skin. His hand skates down your thigh, gripping near the back of your knee and hitching it up onto his hip. Your dress raises with it, revealing your lace panties to the open air. The fabric, already flooded with your arousal, chills against your flushed pussy with the new exposure. “But you will be, babygirl.”

You already know how big he is from his picture and video, but when he grinds his crotch against yours, you start to understand how big he really is. A moan falls out of your lips at the thought. 

“Feels awful big, doesn’t it?” 

You whimper in response, his mouth still working its way across your chest and onto the swell of your tits in your dress.

“What do we do if it doesn’t fit?” He proposes as he grinds against you again, hand clutching tight into the flesh of your thigh at his hip. 

“I don’t know, sir,” you pant out. 

Joel chuckles with a darker tone than he has before, and the sound inexplicably has a gush of juices defiling your panties further. He raises his head to curl his tongue at your earlobe and nip it playfully. “We make it fit, babygirl.”

Your head falls back against the wall with a breathy moan, daring to bring your hand up to bury into his hair and tug lightly. Thankfully he groans into your neck at the action. You nod your head, albeit a little shakily. “We’ll make it fit, daddy.”

“Atta girl. Now let me see these pretty tits. Practically burstin’ out this slutty little dress, hmm?” He slides his hand around to your back, finding the zipper and pulling it down. The top of your dress droops down over your waist as you slip your arms out of the straps. A dexterous hand makes fast work of the clasp of your bra, and you allow that to fall too, leaving you naked from the waist up. “Fuck, babygirl.”

Joel’s face immediately drops into your chest, hands squeezing them together to nip and suck at them. “Shit, this is all I been thinkin’ ‘bout all week. These perfect fuckin’ tits.” You gasp as he takes a nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking until it’s hard and stinging while he massages the other in his broad hand. He dutifully mimics his ministrations on your other breast until they are both hard and glistening.

Breathing heavily at your chest, he suddenly pulls away, grabbing your hand and tugging you behind him. “Fuck it, waited long enough,” he mutters, leading you up the stairs and through a door at the top—his bedroom. Your dress falls down your hips on the way and you step out of it hastily along with your heels. 

Joel drags his eyes up and down your body in nothing but your soaked thong as he jerks his shirt out of his pants, making quick work of the buttons and shedding the garment. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.” The order is cold, domineering, and you don’t think twice before obeying. “Fuck, the way those pretty things bounce when you drop to your knees for me. Naughty fuckin’ thing.”

You look up at him with an attempt at innocence, bringing your hands up to play with your tits for him. “Not used to a beautiful, young girl being on her knees for you, daddy? This new for you?”

His eyes burrow into yours, his face stoic as he flips open his belt buckle and unfastens it deftly, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it onto the floor. He raises an eyebrow at you. “I’d think twice about antagonizin’ me like that if I was you. Got you on your knees pretty damn quick, what makes you think you’re the first young, slutty piece of ass I’ve had lookin’ up at me with those big, baleful ‘fuck me’ eyes?”

He cups your chin in his hand, using the other to undo his jeans and pull down the zipper. “You got somethin’ to say, little girl, then say it. ‘Fore you got your mouth full.”

You blink up at him, swallowing the excessive saliva gathering in your mouth at the thought of him filling it. “Nothing, sir.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Nothin’? That smart little mouth always got somethin’ to say, and when I let you speak you got nothin’?”

Your eyes dart away from him as you let out a quiet breath. “I just…,” you shuffle on your knees nervously. “You mentioned you were out of practice, so I thought maybe…”

“Look at me,” he barks out at you, and your eyes hurry back to him. “You look at me when you’re talkin’ to me. You got somethin’ to say, you say it right to my face.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, when I said I was rusty I meant about the whole datin’, romance thing. But I don’t gotta wine and dine a girl to fuck her.”

“You wined and dined me,” you point out. 

Joel nods. “I did. And now that I think about it,” he removes his hand from your chin to rub at his own, fingers scratching against his beard, “I haven’t heard a thank you for that, have I?”

You play the dinner over in your head, analyzing whether he’s right about that. “I thanked you for the flowers.”

“Didn’t see you eatin’ the flowers though, did I?”

“No, sir,” you reply softly. “Thank you for the dinner.”

Joel strokes your hair gently for a moment, then grips it harshly at the root, jerking your head back so you’re looking at the ceiling. “Open your mouth.”

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth wide. You can’t exactly suck him off from this angle, but you don’t ask questions. 

He doesn’t make you wait long for the answer. Without warning, he leans over you and spits directly into your mouth. Your eyes fly open in shock. You’ve done a lot of things. Yet, for some reason, you have never had a man spit in your mouth. You feel it glide along your tongue and pool at the back of your throat. 

“There’s your dessert, babygirl,” he grunts coldly, “Swallow it and say ‘thank you’.”

Something akin to shame paints your cheeks pink, but you love it. The feeling of degradation has your pussy pulsing in your panties. You make a point to meet his gaze as you swallow down his spit, mixed with your own, and say, “Thank you, daddy.”

He loosens his hold on your hair, stroking it softly again. “That’s a good girl. See? Told you I’d teach ya some manners.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Joel crouches down to your level and palms your cheek, brushing your skin with his thumb. “Good manners get rewards, babygirl. Would you like that?”

You hum as your eyes drift closed at the rhythmic movement of his thumb. “Yes, daddy.”

“Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts, but with softness this time. Your eyes fall open again to stare into his for a moment before he tilts your chin and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. It’s exceedingly chaste in comparison to everything else you’ve done up until this point, which makes the tips of your fingers and toes tingle. 

He deepens the kiss slowly, bringing his other hand to cup around your neck. Not squeezing, but a comforting pressure that has you sinking into his kiss even further. 

“You taste so sweet, babygirl,” he muses, placing a final kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Thank you for my reward, daddy.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, “You’re very welcome, baby. Thank you for being a good girl for me.”

You take a deep breath. “Can I…” 

Joel pulls back enough to watch as you speak. “Can you what, babygirl?”

You fiddle with the hem of your panties, but look him in the eyes like he asked. “Can I please suck your cock, daddy?”

Joel’s gaze falls to your lips as he licks his own. “You say ‘please’ so fuckin’ pretty.” He hoists himself back up and finishes pulling his cock and balls out of his underwear and undone jeans. 

Your eyes go wide as you drink him in, his hand wrapped around the width of himself making it look even bigger. He strokes himself leisurely, using the pre-come at the head to lubricate the slide, staring at you with hooded eyes. “What do you think, baby? Not quite so eager when you see how big it really is?”

You shake your head. “I still want it, sir.”

He lets out a laugh. “‘Course you do. Cock hungry little whore.” He taps the leaking head against your bottom lip. You immediately lick the pre-come off in your haste to get just the briefest taste of him, savoring the saltiness on your tongue. “Greedy cumslut. Spit on it.”

You look up at him hesitantly, but he nods down at you. You gather your saliva in your mouth and follow instructions, spitting it onto the head of his cock. Joel groans, stroking himself from tip to base and spreading out your makeshift lubricant.

 He makes you wait for it, makes you watch as he strokes himself at a languid pace. “Bein’ such a good girl for me. So responsive. What are the fuckin’ odds that the person on the other end of my wrong number is a bratty little slut like you? Just my type.”

“I’m very lucky, daddy.”

“Shit, I'm lucky, babygirl. Lucky you were brave enough to push me to talk to you. Lucky you’re such a desperate fuckin’ whore, you get your tits out for every man who gives you the time of day. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Say it out loud for me. What are you?”

You bite your lip, affecting a façade of innocence that severely contradicts your words. “I’m a desperate whore.”

“And what should a desperate whore like you do when on her knees in front of a giant cock like this?”

You furrow your brow as you search for the best answer. “Beg?” 

Joel shakes his head, “Not unless I tell you to. Whether you get this cock is not up to you, is it?”

“No, sir.”

“What you do is you shut up and take what you’re given.”

You nod in response, not wanting to speak unless he asks you to after that instruction. He places his hand at the back of your head as he moves closer toward you.

“Now, open nice and wide for daddy.” 

A whimper slips out as you drop your jaw and stick out your tongue for him.

Joel starts by rubbing the head of his cock along the length of your tongue, letting every inch, every taste bud get its fill of him. He is thick and heavy on your tongue, already stretching your mouth to accommodate him. You can’t help moaning around him as he dominates your mouth.

“Very good. Now keep that tongue out,” He instructs as he pushes further in, not stopping until he hits the back of your throat. You reflexively gag against him, your jaw protesting against the size of him, but you stay steady. His hand on your hair digs in tighter, ensuring you stay still as he fucks in and out and taps at the back of your throat repeatedly. Your reaction to the intrusion tampers as he goes, allowing him to take you faster, rougher. 

Tears well and break free from the corners of your eyes and your nose starts to run at the relentless onslaught of his cock aggressively claiming your mouth. Joel’s grunts and groans mesh with the wet, sinful sound of your gagging as you relax your jaw and give it over to him to just take. 

“Good fuckin’ girl. Knew a slutty, cock-starved bitch like you would take this dick like a champ.” He pulls out and you cough, saliva running thick between your lips and his cock. “Look at you, darlin’,” he smacks his cock against the side of your face, then the other side, then your dripping lips, “Fuckin’ pathetic.”

You just open your mouth for him again.

“That’s right. Open right back up for me.” He begins to fucks your mouth punishingly, bringing a hand to your chin and smearing your spit wherever he can reach on your face. “Such a fuckin’ mess.”

He eases up again, using the head of his cock to spread more of your spit across your skin. He guides you with a firm hand down below his dick until you’re level with his balls “Suck.”

You waste no time mouthing wetly at them, sucking each ball into your mouth and laving over them with your tongue. Joel’s moans grow louder as he strokes his cock above you. “Just like that, yes baby. Such a filthy mouth on you. So much more useful–fuck–when it’s filled up.” You hum around him, glowing with pride at his small break in composure.

“Alright, babygirl, that’s enough. Gonna make me fuckin’ come already,” He grunts out, pulling your mouth from between his legs. He grips your upper arm and helps you stand. Your knees twinge from the sting of the carpet rubbing into them and your jaw aches from the stretch, but your hormones are soaring and your pussy is practically vibrating with how hard it’s throbbing.

You let him lead you where he wants you, which happens to be in front of a full-body mirror hanging on the wall. You take in your nearly naked form in the reflection, watching as Joel wraps his hands around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“I want you to see what I reduce you to when you’re with me. See how fuckin’ wrecked you are just from me fucking one of your holes. Look.”

You definitely see it, that’s for sure. You take in your blown-out pupils, your puffy red lips, your watery eyes, and your tangled hair. A mixture of tears, snot, and saliva coats your flushed cheeks and thoroughly fucked features.

You look used. Taken. 

Ruined.

“You see it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember it.”

You nod at him in the mirror.

Joel’s hand travels south as he locks eyes with you in the reflection. He toys with the band of your panties, then slips his hand inside. Your eyes follow his hand hungrily.

“Look at me,” He orders. You return to his heated gaze, forcing yourself to hold it as he dips a finger between your folds for the first time. You have to fight your body’s will to roll your eyes into the back of your head at the unbelievable zap of pleasure that comes from finally being touched. You fear if you disobey his orders he’ll stop, and you think you’d actually rather die than cause that to happen.

His finger traces lazy circles around your entrance, sliding around with far too much ease. “Shit, babygirl. You could swim in these fuckin’ panties they’re so wet. Filthy fuckin’ girl, gettin’ off gaggin’ on this dick.” He slides in with zero resistance, pulling a moan from your raw throat. “This cunt is screamin’ that she’s ready for my cock, isn’t she?”

Another pitiful moan vibrates your lips as he adds a second finger, spreading them inside as he fucks you. Your clit feels like it’s straining for his attention as it goes neglected, but you don’t dare speak. You simply melt into his avaricious eyes as he winds you up around his fingers.

Your hips jut forward in search of even an ounce more of pressure as you whine, shamelessly seeking relief as your orgasm begins to spiral without him so much as bumping into your clit. Joel tuts in your ear and removes his fingers at your actions and you groan loudly. 

“Now, now, don’t get greedy, babygirl.”

“Please, daddy,” You sob, grabbing at his arm that’s now resting on your stomach, fingers still wet with your juices. “Don’t stop. I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t stop.”

Joel chuckles in your ear, extracting his arm from your grip. “Oh, darlin’. Unless you safeword, you’re gonna do whatever I want regardless. Not much leverage there.” 

As much as you hate to admit it, you know he’s right. You would do just about anything this man asked you to do at this point. He has you feeling so safe, so seen, that your safeword is far from the front of your mind. Still logged away in case you need it, but laying blissfully dormant in a corner of your brain. You’re as wrapped around his finger as your pussy was moments ago. You don’t know what this man is made of, but it’s intoxicating your senses, bending your will to his like some ethereal elixir trickling down your throat and seeping in through your skin.

He taps his two glistening fingers at your lips. “Clean up your mess.”

You oblige, sucking the digits into your mouth and enthusiastically licking them clean of yourself. He pulls them out with a pop and uses his spit-slick hand to play with your tit, squeezing the flesh and pinching at the nipple. “You let me play with you like a little doll, don’t you, baby? My little fuckdoll.” Then his hand is gliding up your chest and around your neck again. He presses in on the sides of your windpipe just enough to hinder your air supply. “Are you on birth control, babygirl?”

Your brain wades through the fog clouding your thoughts from the pleasurable thrill of the suppression of oxygen. You manage a nod.

“That’s good,” He mumbles into your neck, sucking and scraping his teeth and clearly not caring about leaving marks on you. You know you should probably be concerned with the state of your neck tomorrow, but you truly cannot bring yourself to give a fuck. Particularly so when he continues his thought. “Because I intend to shoot my load so deep inside this pussy that you taste it on your tongue.”

Your head drops back in a loud moan, “Yes, please, daddy!”

He tightens his hand on your neck, your brain going hazy again. “Listen to you, beggin’ for this come. Probably let anyone with a cock bust their nut in that fucked out hole. Dirty fuckin’ slut. Wouldn’t be surprised if you feel so wet ‘cause you got another man’s load in there right now. Hmm?”

The humiliation at his words has your whole body burning hot. You take a grateful gulp of air as he slackens his grasp on your throat. “Don’t let anyone come inside me, daddy! Only you!”

“You’re goddamn fuckin’ right only me,” He growls, delivering a hard smack to your pussy over your panties. “This?” He cups a hand over your crotch and digs his fingers in, “is fucking mine.”

You nod frantically, “Yes, daddy! All yours, I promise!”

At last, Joel releases you, spins you around, and shoves you in the direction of the bed. “On your back. Wanna watch your soul leave your body when I stretch you open for the first time.”

You scramble onto his bed, crawling to the top and plopping yourself among his pillows. Joel strips off what remains of his clothing, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. Seeing him fully naked has your cheeks going hot and your brain working overtime. You allow yourself a moment to take him in and admire just how truly sexy this man is. His scruffy beard, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the enviably plush lips. Your eyes roam down his strong, broad chest to his soft belly, looking absolutely delectable. You want to bury yourself in that tummy, kissing it and biting it and laying your head down on it after. 

His thick, sturdy thighs frame that beautiful, massive cock. You want your mouth on every goddamn inch of him at once. 

Joel clears his throat under your awed stare. When glance back up to his face, you could swear his expression goes momentarily bashful. “Like what you see, darlin’?”

“Very, very much, sir.”

“Feelin’s mutual, babygirl.” He crawls up the bed after you, hovering over your sensitive body. You know it's probably in your head, but you almost feel a staticky sensation flowing between the two of you as he glares at you hungrily. He sits back onto his calves and flattens his hands against the top of each thigh, inching them achingly slow toward your panties. He hooks a finger under the hem at both hips and tugs them down at a frustrating pace, clearly enjoying every moment of your desperation. 

Your body starts getting fidgety. “Please just take them off,” You whisper hastily, hopefully quiet enough that he doesn’t hear, but of course he does. 

He raises an eyebrow at you and pauses, leaving your thong in place halfway down your calves. “Are we not bein’ patient, baby?”

You bite your lip, your fingers clutching absentmindedly at his duvet. “I think I’ve been very patient, daddy. Just want you. It’s a compliment.”

That elicits a little smile from him. “Is that so? You think that’s how this works?” You shrug sheepishly. “Who’s in charge here, little girl?” 

“‘You…”

He tilts his head in a manner that feels oddly threatening. “And who here decides whether you even get fucked at all?”

You whine, admittedly a little childishly, “Daddy, please–”

You hear the slap before you see or even feel it. This one was harder than the last one. The impact has your head swinging sharply to the side, followed by the ignition of a thousand fiery pinpricks where the smack landed on your face. You exhale a breathy gasp at the sheer force of it as tears well involuntarily at your waterline. A warm hand puts pressure on your smarting cheek, thumb stroking soothingly at the rapidly blooming pain. When he speaks, his voice is low and admonishing, but with an undertone of compassion. “Do not whine at me like a bratty child. Especially when I am asking you a specific question that I expect you to answer. Understood?”

You nod as you scrunch closed your eyes to rid yourself of the tears. “Yes, daddy. I’m sorry.”

Joel brushes his thumb up below your eye where a tear has escaped, wiping up what he can. He locks eyes with you as he brings the finger to his mouth and wraps his lips around it, sucking off the salty evidence of your distress. 

Something like that from anyone else in the world, you think, would come off as truly unhinged. But because it’s Joel, the act just serves to arouse you more. Him getting off on your humiliation, your pain, your suffering. Every issuance of degradation, purely for his own twisted pleasure.

It’s so fucking hot.

The way he masterfully seems to manipulate the levity of each moment since you entered his home–taking, then giving, then taking again–has the synapses in your brain firing at each other. The exhilaration of never knowing what he’s going to do next has your body in a near-permanent state of stimulation. It makes you want to poke and prod at him but humbles you enough to pick and choose your battles with him.

Joel rids you fully of your panties after that, flinging them somewhere behind him. “Are we happy now? Finally gettin’ what you want,” he grunts. He wedges his hands at the back of your thighs and lifts, pushing your knees up by your ears. “Hold yourself open for me. Let me see what’s mine.”

Your body shudders at the rush of air between your legs and the anticipation of getting his cock inside you after what feels like a million years of waiting. You take over his grip on your legs, hooking your hands around the backs of your knees. Maybe you should be ashamed of how open you are for him like this, but the sick thrill of depravity ebbs away any disgrace. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans in wonderment as lays on his stomach with his face at your folds, spreading your lips lewdly with his fingers. “Perfect fuckin’ tits, perfect fuckin’ pussy.” You do your best to crane your head forward to watch as his head dips low, licking a firm stripe up the whole center of your cunt. You jolt reflexively toward his mouth for more. Just that one lick has your legs shaking in your hands and your clit burning with the desire for release.

Joel lays a single wet kiss to your clit, sucking for barely a second before pushing himself back up onto his knees and crawling over you again. His mouth shines with your wetness and a mischievous smile. “You ready for me to pop this cherry, pretty girl?”

You can’t help but laugh a little deliriously. Partly with unbridled horniness, partly with the utter absurdity of the false notion that you could possibly still have your virginity, particularly with the juxtaposition of the debauchery the two of you have committed in this room already. You do, however, love the little callback to your earlier dinner banter.

“I’m so ready, daddy.”

“You sure? It’s gonna hurt.”

“I want it to hurt,” You whisper.

“Shit,” He mutters in response. He takes his cock in his hand and you feel the blunt head of him press at your entrance. Once again, you’re forced to come to terms with how huge he is in comparison to your hole. You expected him to maybe stretch you more with his fingers first, try and make the initial intrusion a little easier. Then again, you’re not at all surprised he doesn’t. Joel’s sadistic streak has already poked its head out a couple times tonight, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t scratch a correspondingly masochistic itch of your own.

“Daddy, it’s too big,” You whimper as Joel teases at your dripping hole.

Joel nuzzles along your ear. “Now, baby, remember what we said earlier?” 

You turn your head toward his, your noses brushing lightly and your breath mingling together warmly. You nod. You reply in a small voice, “We make it fit.”

“That’s right, babygirl.”

And Joel pushes in.

The initial shock of pain has the breath whooshing out of your lungs, punctuated by a high-pitched moan. The pain rapidly dissolves into pleasure as Joel continues to roll his hips steadily into you, inch by inch. Joel grunts through clenched teeth, “Such a tight cunt for such a filthy whore. There you go, baby. You wanted this cock so bad, fuckin’ take it.”

All you can do is moan as your hands slip from behind your knees to wrap your legs around his waist. You’re flooded with relief when Joel permits the shift, continuing to rock his hips gradually until he’s bottomed out inside of you. 

“Shit, that’s so fucking big.”

“I know, baby,” Joel placates as he pins your wrists above your head with one big hand. “Just take it like a good girl.”

Joel begins a brutal pace, pulling out to the head and snapping his hips into you with increasing speed. Your heels dig into his ass, silently begging for him to give you as much as he possibly can. 

“How’s it feel babygirl?”

Your breath comes out in spurts as you try your best to answer, “S-s-so fu-cking good! F-f-fucking in-in-credible!”

“Splittin’ you right fuckin’ open, isn’t it, baby? Suckin’ it right up this fuckin’ cunt.”

“Y-yes daddy!”

A hand comes up to squeeze at your throat, and your eyes start to roll at the heady sensation. The lack of air intensifies the rhythmic pounding of Joel’s cock inside your pussy, a floaty feeling trickling through every vein. 

“Pretty little thing, lettin’ yourself get used by a dirty old man like me. Spreadin’ these fuckin’ legs like I’m payin’ you for it.” Joel pulls out swiftly, flipping you over onto your stomach and yanking your ass in the air as if you were a ragdoll. His hand comes back around to grip your throat lightly as he shoves himself back inside in one thrust, settling back into that grueling pace. This position has his hips smacking into your ass on every thrust, the sound ringing filthy and wicked around the room.

“There we go, takin’ it from behind like a real whore now, huh?” He releases his hold on your neck as he gathers your hair like a ponytail into his fist, jerking your head back and using his grip on it like a handlebar, holding you in place as he wrecks your hole. 

This angle has Joel hitting impossibly deep inside of you, and your pussy is screaming for attention. You’re pretty sure all Joel has to do is brush your clit and you’ll be coming all over him. As if he can read your thoughts, Joel mercifully drops a hand between your legs and starts rubbing circles around your clit. “Come on, babygirl, I know you’re close. Been close all fuckin’ night, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” You sob, greedily rocking your hips into his hand as your orgasm burns heavy in your stomach. The hand in your hair releases in favor of curling it under your shoulder, hauling you deeper onto his dick.

“Come for me, baby, come on this cock.” His permission has the band inside you snapping completely, throwing your head back with a garbled mess of “thank you”s and “daddy”s and “sir”s, your legs shaking violently below you. Little pulses of lightning sizzle along your skin as your release runs its course, leaving you boneless and thoroughly sated.

Joel continues to fuck into you roughly, both hands clutching at your hips. “That’s a good girl, let daddy use this sweet cunt to get himself off. Just like that.” A hand comes down hard on your ass, making you jolt forward, but you’re too exhausted to let out more than a squeak. “Fuck, daddy’s close, baby,” He groans out, smacking your ass again to feel you squeeze around him. 

Joel’s movement become erratic as he approaches his own release, grunting to punctuate each thrust. “Gonna flood this fuckin’ pussy with my come. Fuckin’...take…it…” he growls out as his own orgasm finally hits, slamming in all the way to shoot his come as deep inside you as possible with a loud, primal moan. He drops down onto your back to breathe heavily in your ear as his cock softens slowly. “Good…girl…” he pants out as he strokes the back of your head affectionately.

He rolls off of you gently, and you immediately feel the loss of his cock from your aching pussy. You have half a mind to beg him to just put it back in again to fill the void. Instead, Joel coaxes you to lay your head on his chest as he envelops you in his arms, scratching lightly at your back in a way that has you melting into his body. He uses his other hand to intertwine his fingers with yours and inhales deeply into your hair. 

The two of you lay in companionable silence as you come down from your highs. Joel is warm and soft beneath you, smelling of cologne and sweat and sandalwood. You vaguely feel a trickling sensation between your legs as Joel’s come starts to slowly flow out of you onto your thighs and the bed beneath you. You let it happen, getting secret pleasure from being coated in whatever Joel saw fit to give you.

Joel is the first to break the silence.

“How’re you feelin’, darlin’?”

“Pretty sure I can honestly say I’ve never been better,” You admit.

He presses a long kiss onto your head. “You did so good for me.”

You smile broadly into his chest, placing a little kiss of your own there. “I fucking hate that you were right.”

“About what, darlin’?”

You look up at him, taking in his furrowed brow and adorably sex-tousled hair. You heave a great sigh and crane your neck to plant another kiss on his jaw. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

You see Joel fighting against a smile on his lips. “Sorry about that. I did warn you.”

“That you did. But as you now know, I don’t listen very well.”

“Nah, you just need a bit of a firm hand. And I don’t mind givin’ that to ya.”

“I don’t mind receiving it.”

Joel smiles fully now, tightening his hold on you. “I think I would count this as a successful first date.”

“Very successful, I’d say. Not sure how we top this one.”

“I mean…” Joel trails off, as if deciding whether he should continue his thought, but ultimately does. “You do have one hole I haven’t claimed yet.”

His words have your heart racing in your chest and the traitor between your legs heating up again when it definitely shouldn’t. “Fuck.”

Joel chuckles darkly, burying his face in your hair again. “Just food for thought.”

Next Part

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow@atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

Visit here for instructions on how to get a tab just for the blogs you’ve subscribed to at the top of your tumblr page!

taglist: @annaliseelliottxo @paleidiot @ashleymsnodgrass @tsukkie-daisuke @marisemonteiroo @leeeesahhh

[voxel-loves-you]

Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead - gimme that sweet sweet grumpy tiefling man please

Rolan sat down next to Francine on the bench and read over what she had already finished translating. The fact that she would draft out the translations on a separate piece of parchment wasn’t lost on him, and he greatly appreciated how neat it made the final drafts. 

Setting aside her work, he looked over at Francine. She remained focused on her current task, as though Rolan were just another magical bauble, tome, or scroll that would be assessed at a later time. Not that he minded. There was something romantic in seeing her pour over pages of script and look so engaged. It made his heart ache in the most wonderful way.

“Francine? Francine?”

Nothing. Not a single word. She was miles away in some ancient and forbidden realm, breathing new life into histories forgotten by time.

Rolan sidled up right against her. “My heart?”

“Mm?” She looked at him, suddenly shocked back to reality. “When did you get here?”

Carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he smiled at her. “I finished reading over the books we got down from the Abjuration section. And I think it’s time to call it a night. Yes?”

Her eyes flitted between him and the work before her. “I just have one more scroll. I’ll finish it, then come to bed. You go on without me”

Rolan wrapped his arms around her. “I think I will make myself your personal nuisance while I wait.”

“As though you haven’t been my very own personal nuisance for as long as I’ve known you?” 

“Ah, yes. Of course. I was the one forcing my way into your business while you kicked and screamed first in an idyllic grove, and then again while depressed and drunk in a shadow cursed nightmare.”

“Very accurate,” she laughed, pressing her forehead against his. “Let me at least make a note about where I am.”

“You’re welcome to try.” He leaned away, tilting his head slightly as he held her gaze. “Maybe I’ll start with a few dozen kisses to your cheek and see where that takes me.”

“For free translation services I’m only afforded cheek kisses?”

“Come to bed.” He quirked an eyebrow. 

Francine mirrored his expression then turned away from him to make some quick notes. However, before her quill even touched the parchment, a warm hand caressed the side of her neck. He kissed her temple softly, then trailed several more kisses down to her cheek. 

“Come to bed.” 

Francine’s face burned. And as she began to talk back, Rolan stole a kiss. 

His lips lingered against hers. “Come to bed, please.”

“Did you know that you are unbelievably stubborn?” 

He nodded, kissing her again more deeply.

“And irritating.” Her voice trembled slightly, as Rolan’s thumb brushed against her ear.

Just when Rolan was about to kiss her a third time, a different voice interjected.

“And he’s got a big ego.”

Both Rolan and Francine turned back to see Lia wearing a somewhat disgusted expression.

“He’s very bad at picking places for romantic trysts as well.” She pointed over her shoulder. “That? Oh, that's just my room. Would love to relax there without seeing my brother do this.”

Not far away, Cal poked his head out of a different room. “Oh gross! Was he being flirty again?”

Rolan held his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. 

Francine cleared her throat, trying not to laugh. Standing, she tugged lightly on Rolan’s sleeve. “Goodnight, Lia.”

“Goodnight, Francine.”

Still tugging a mortified Rolan along, Francine waved goodnight to Cal as well.

“Don't encourage them,” Rolan hissed.

“Oh don’t be like that Rolan,” Cal teased.

Rolan said something under his breath and both Lia’s and Cal’s doors slammed shut simultaneously.

Francine gave him a sidelong glance, smirking.

Unable to handle her silence for longer than a few seconds he bit back, “What?!”

“It’s just that you got what you wanted,” she laughed. “I’m coming to bed.”

“Gods, you’re impossible.” He hid his face in his hands once more, attempting to compose himself.

“I could go back to translat—”

“Absolutely not!”

[philtstone]

22 (kisses on head) Sam Wilson & dealer's choice

its been 84 years & i finally finished writing this .... inspired by life events bc apparently thats how most of my fatws stories seem to work these days. also shoutout to @foolgobi65, my bestie and co-middle aged fictional man. miss u so much, praying that in 1 month i will be a 60 dollar flight away from u, etc etc

It takes Sam a few tries to make the call.

Okay, so maybe that's hypocritical of him. It's okay to reach out to people when you need 'em, Buck. I'm here if you need to talk about anything, B. You know avoiding the world won't make anything easier, man.

Yeah, yeah -- so Sam's sometimes a textbook example of do as I say, not as I do. His sister would be the first to remind him of this, loudly and annoyingly. Recently, Bucky's taken to agreeing with her -- loudly and annoyingly, after he's given Sam a mildly amused eyebrow at the liberal shortening of his already short nickname -- but it's hard to remember that, and the general cross bleeding of their lives over and across like veins, when he hasn't seen Bucky in a month and their texts have been few and far between.

Not for any nefarious reason or anything. Sam's just been busy. Sitting in interminable meetings with assholes. Getting asked inane leading questions about his stance on global politics. Trying to push through the legal work of actually getting clean water to multiple places in literal first world nations. Bull-fuckin’-shit, Sam thinks. There is perpetual grit behind his eyes. The urge to dangle senators by their ankles from the top of multi-story buildings is real. He and Bucky did that a couple times, in the early days, but then Rhodey got in trouble because of it, so they agreed to ease off for a bit. So now Sam hasn’t even got that as an outlet, and it’s on him to figure out this messed up world for everyone else 'cause for every person who seems to care to try it, there are hundreds more who couldn't give a shit. He needs a vacation. Or a reset. Something to remind him what being Captain America is really about.

And Bucky's -- well, he's definitely not retired, but Sam thinks he deserves some peace and quiet, after everything.

The phone rings a fifth time. It's two in the morning. Sam sits in the dark quiet of his hotel room and is about to swipe end call and just content himself with a short text hey man, how's it going? when suddenly the call connects.

Sam squints.

"Why am I looking at a weird corner of your ceiling?" he asks, before his tired brain can catch up to the possibility that maybe something is deeply, horribly wrong, and there are bad guys there, and their mutual worlds are about to end for the twentieth time.

Then Bucky's forehead pops up from behind the kitchen counter.

“Sam, hey,” he says, before Sam can question further. The phone camera shakes like it’s being propped up against something by a hasty hand, “Gimme a sec, I’m in the middle of something.”

The forehead disappears. Not in a normal way, like Bucky walking out of frame, but in a weird way, like Bucky dropping below the counter to the floor.

“C’mon, ya little twerp, slow down a second …”

“Uh …” Sam wets his lips. “Is now a bad time?”

“‘S fine!” calls his friend’s disembodied voice. “Talk, I’m listenin’.” There is a thump, and a small yowl, and a distinctively Bucky-flavoured grunt. 

Sam can see the edge of Bucky's stove behind him and slowly registers the warm kitchen lighting and mess of kitchen implements strewn ... everywhere.

"What ... exactly are you doing?"

"Wrangling," says Bucky. "How've you been?" 

Could be better should be Sam's honest response. Instead he blinks at the obvious noises of scuffle, the muffled thud of metal limb against laminate kitchen island, some plaintive meows, and ...

Squeaking?

Peep peep peep peep peep.

“Fuckin’ – Alpine!”

“I told you that cat’s possessed,” Sam says, for lack of anything else to contribute to the mystifying noises coming from his phone. 

“Aha!” yells Bucky. There is a particularly despondent screech, and the peeping ramps up in intensity. 

Three months ago they’d got caught trying to bust some superpowered underground fight club and spent two days stuck in some underground bunker under threat of fighting in said club. Could make big bucks, taking bets on Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Sam wishes those violence-mongering assholes could see the two of them now.

Bucky’s head reappears.

“She’s not possessed,” he says. Sam can’t exactly agree, when directly to Bucky’s left, the little white housecat he found in the dumpsters behind his apartment last February is doing her best to wage feral holy war against the impervious plates of his left hand, which has got her hovering four feet above the ground by the scruff of her neck. Bucky himself seems unbothered by the crazy feline trying to maul his hand, and in fact unbothered in general, despite his wild case of bedhead, hole-ridden pajama shirt and slightly faded underwear all captured in frame. His other hand, stretched all the way out in the other direction, is held tightly in a fist.

And it’s squeaking.

“Bucky,” Sam says slowly, “I get that you got this whole nonviolence thing goin’ on right now –” It’s been a new thing Bucky keeps bringing up in sardonic therapy speak, always raising his eyebrows to show that he’s the only one allowed in on the joke, as if Sam knows he hasn’t touched a gun in three years – “but is two am really the right time to stop your honest to God housecat from takin’ out a mouse in your kitchen?”

“Mouse?” Bucky says with a frown. Then he grins. “Aw, no, I found him in the elevator today. Dunno how he got there.” Then, with impossible gentleness, he brings his fist up to the blurry camera, so Sam can see the fuzzy yellow crown of a tiny, very squeaky duckling.

Sam stares.

“That’s a duck,” he says.

“Duck-ling,” Bucky corrects. “He’s kind of helpless. Kept falling over on its own ass ‘til I brought him up. I think he was in shock.”

Peep, says the little duckling, as if agreeing. Or maybe as if to say, And then you exposed me to your psycho cat, asshole, you don’t think that was traumatizing? 

Maybe Bucky speaks duck better than Sam does, because he only grins, widely, and then proceeds to press a small kiss to the top of the duckling’s head.

Sam feels like he must be dreaming.

“You adopted a duckling?” he manages.

“Not officially,” Bucky protests.

“You can’t just adopt a duckling in Brooklyn.”

“I got a bathtub!”

“You got a shower cubicle, man.”

“Okay, fine, I got a sink.”

“Dude, you can’t rehome a duck in your tiny ass sink.”

“He hasn’t got anywhere else to go, Sam, he’s just a baby.”

Sam gestures in mild distress to the cat, who is still trying desperately to escape her vibranium bonds. “Is this not considered a barrier to duck adoption?!” he says.

Bucky sighs, the kind that slumps your shoulders up and down. He holds Alpine up to his face, sternly. She is midway through attempting to chew his wrist with her pointy little cat teeth. 

“You got wax in your ears? Knock it off, Sweets. Whaddaya want, more attention? You want a kiss on the forehead, too?”

“I do not get paid enough for this,” Sam says, putting his head in his hands and staring across the room.

Peep peep peep agrees the duckling.

“Look,” Bucky says, gesturing with his duckling hand. “I’ll think of something.”

“Something stupid,” says Sam.

Bucky doesn’t seem bothered, though. “So what’d you wanna talk to me about?” he asks.

Sam pauses. He’s got to think about it now. In fact – the edge of need that had been present just four minutes ago has mostly disappeared. He takes in Bucky’s disheveled appearance again. 

“You still goin’ down next weekend?”

It is a long weekend. Thanksgiving, to be precise. Sam has spent many a Thanksgiving dreaming of his sister’s cooking; he’s not sure he has the mental fortitude to skip out on it this year, when nothing world-ending is happening.

Bucky gives him a weird look. “Sure. Are you?”

“Delacroix’s still doin’ its food drive, right?”

“Sure,” says Bucky again. He scratches an itch behind his ear with the watch strap around his right wrist. The duckling squeaks. “Maybe you should go.”

“Maybe I should,” Sam says. He doesn’t feel relief, exactly, but there is a cousin feeling, somewhere in his chest, that he does not have words for at two a.m., “to make sure you won’t be pullin’ lame moves on my little sister.”

“You wouldn’t know a move if it danced naked in front of you, Sam,” Bucky says, without missing a beat. Alpine, who has been quiet since threatened, makes a sudden, aborted move towards Bucky’s right hand. Smoothly, behind the counter, Bucky takes a couple steps back and opens the empty garbage can with his bare foot before dropping Alpine into it. “Behave,” he tells her muffled protests. 

“I know so many moves. I am super smooth with the ladies. And your pasty ass better not be doing any naked dancing, or we’ll have words.”

Bucky lets out a very long-suffering sigh. “Just because Ms. Gloria next door likes me best …”

“She makes a mean sweet potato pie every Thanksgiving,” Sam agrees sadly. “I used to get that extra piece, you know?”

“I can’t say no when Sarah invites me, Sam, come on.”

“So she inviting you now, is that how this works? She doesn’t invite me.”

“That’s ‘cause you invite yourself. Or she bullies you into coming home.”

Both of these things being true, they are both laughing before Sam knows it. He is decidedly less exhausted than before. Tired, sleepy, sure, but not exhausted. Bucky has now moved on to cleaning up his kitchen one-handedly, which he’s gotten pretty good at recently. Bucky himself counts it as progress, and so does everyone else. 

Sam catches his breath. “Yeah, alright,” he says. “I should get some rest, then.”

He gets subjected to a long look through the camera. “See you next weekend?” Bucky says finally.

And maybe that was the exact question Sam had been itching to ask. It’s been a long while since he’s had a friend that’s basically family. It hits different. Sam’s happy to get used to it again, bit by bit.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. I don’t think I can tell you all the shit I’ve been dealing with unless we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “For security reasons or Sam-telling-a-story reasons?”

“Man, I can tell a story over the phone.”

“Yeah, but you like having the ambiance. Brings the best out in you.”

“Fishing and stories just mix right.”

“Whatever you say, Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, maybe you can bring that little fluff ball with you. Can you imagine takin’ that thing through airport security?”

Except, oh no. Bucky’s eyes are widening with the sharp glimmer of a new, stupid idea.

“Huh,” he says, aloud. Peep peep, says the duckling. 

“You are not foisting that duckling on me,” Sam says.

“You do have a bird-themed costume. And Sarah’s house has a bathtub.”

But before Sam can open his mouth to argue, there is the loud crash of the garbage can tipping over, and the blurry white figure of Alpine pouncing onto Bucky’s head. 

“Shit! Alpine!”

Sam divines that he’s dropped the duckling.

“You know how long it took me to catch him?!”

Mroooow, howls Alpine, who is now on the counter, blocking most of the frame.

To the renewed sounds of frantic peeping from the kitchen floor, Sam laughs. “Dude,” he says, “you know your neighbors hate your ass right now.”

And it’s maybe fitting, that the last thing he sees before he ends the call is Bucky’s disembodied metal fist, flipping him the bird.

[ferris-the-wheel]

m!MC x Epel Felmier

Info: You work at the farm with Epel's family and sleep over there sometimes. Since Epel left for NRC, you video call sometimes. This is a little while after Vil promotes Epel's family's apple juice during Chapter 5.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 5 OF THE MAIN STORY!

TW: None

You waited almost impatiently for Epel to get on the call. Yeah, he was busy or somethin' but still! Suddenly the phone picked up and Epel's face appeared on the screen.

"Heavens to Betsy, Epel, ya took forever, y'know!" You said, but there wasn't any real anger on your face. He laughed. "Howdy, Y/N. It's been a month of Sundays since we've spoken, huh?"

You waved your hand in a dismissing way. "Sure has. But has your Meemaw told ya yet? 'bout the apple juice? Ah was fixin' to tell myself, but your Meemaw insisted." You demanded.

"Ya kiddin'? 'Course she did!" Epel responded. "Ah'll reckon you're livin' in high cotton right 'bout now!"

"You're right 'bout that! Ah dropped one of them crates with apple bottles today. Your Meemaw looked madder than a wet hen an' she scolded me! She hardly never gets mad at nobody." You complained with a frown.

"Ah reckon it's busier than ants at a picnic over down yonder then!" He exclaimed. "Meemaw ain't never got mad at me unless Ah did somethin' real bad."

"Yep. I'm worn slap out right 'bout now. Say, how's school? Ya get to get all gussied up every day like them rich folk?" You inquired. Epel's face became annoyed, so you were sure you'd touched a nerve there.

"It's not too bad here, but my housewarden— Vil, he really is too big for his britches! Always tellin' me ta do this 'n do that. He thinks the sun comes up just ta hear him crow, Ah tell ya. An' Ah won't lie to ya, the vice housewarden here, Rook, he's kinda creepy. Halfway off his rocker." Epel said. His mood seemed to be much better now that he'd gotten that off his chest.

"Well, ya didn't call me up to talk about my school life, didn't ya? Besides the farm, how've ya been? Ain't nobody been botherin' ya, have they? 'Cause Ah'll tan their hides if they have." Epel said with a scowl on his face.

"Aw, don't you worry 'bout me, Eps. Ah would beat 'em up myself if someone tried." You chuckled. "Same goes for you, matter o fact."

" 'Course not. 'Bout everyone here is so uppity an' full of themselves." Epel huffed. You heard muffled knocking, so you assumed it was on Epel's end. He looked alarmed and called out, "Yes?" You couldn't hear the response, but Epel looked back at the camera for a moment.

"Gimme a sec." He replied quickly and he moved out of view. You could hear Epel's voice and someone else's, but you couldn't tell what they were saying. "Eh— Rook?! What do ya— I mean, what are you doing?!" You heard Epel's outraged cry. You were now worried and thoroughly confused.

"My apologies, Monsieur Cherry Apple, I heard you talking to someone and I was curious." The camera on Epel's end shook as the phone was picked up. Epel's face reappeared, but he was looking away. "I'm chatting with a person back home." His voice was calmer now.

"Oh, mes excuses, monsieur! I did not intend to barge in on a conversation with someone from your hometown. If I may, who is it?" Epel was right. This guy seemed a bit creepy, though you were used to oddballs. Epel sighed loudly. "My boyfriend. Here, lem— let me introduce you guys." Now that was weird. Epel sounded totally different.

A face appeared on screen beside Epel's, a guy with straight-cut blond hair. "Oh mon! What a pleasant face!" Rook said with a smile. "May I know your name?"

"Y/N. You're Rook, right? Epel was jus' talkin' 'bout ya." You replied. Rook's smile broadened. "Oui! Good things, I hope?" He inquired. Ain't no way you were rattin' Epel out to this guy. " 'Course." You said. "By the way, that hat o' yours is cattywampus. Do all y'all wear hats like that over yonder or jus' you?" Rook seemed totally confused and Epel had to translate.

"He said your hat is crooked and he asked if everyone wears hats like yours over here." He turned to the camera and added, "No, the only one who wears a hat like this is Rook, as far as I've seen." Rook looked very surprised. "Your speech pattern is very interesting! It's quite like speaking another language, in a way."

"Whaddya mean? It ain't that hard to understand. I reckon ya only got one oar in the water if you can't tell the difference 'tween a different language an' an accent." You retorted. Epel looked like he was holding back a laugh. Rook either didn't seem to realize he'd been insulted or he didn't comment on it and brushed it off.

"Can you leave now, please? I'd like to get back to talking with Y/N before we eat su— dinner." Epel said. Rook nodded. "Of course, Monsieur Cherry Apple! I've invaded your space for long enough. Au revoir, you two!" You heard the door close and Epel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Say Eps, what's with you hidin' your accent?" You asked. He looked miffed. "Well, our housewarden, Vil, right? He said Ah ain't allowed to use it an' Ah gotta speak "properly". But since he's housewarden, Ah gotta follow his rules. On the bright side, Vil's gonna be a senior next year, so he won' be able to be housewarden cuz he'll be gone most the year." Epel said. The last bit seemed to cheer him up. "Ah'll be happier than a dead pig in the sunshine when that happens."

"That's good, I reckon. Say, it's gettin' late an' your Meemaw's gonna have me liftin' juice all day tomorrow, so Ah should get some Z's." You said, reluctant to end the conversation, but knowing you'd be as a steering wheel on a mule if you stayed up all night. "Alrighty. Ah should probably be gettin' ready for supper here anyhow. 'Night then." Epel said.

You nodded. " 'Night, 'Monsieur Cherry Apple'." You said with a grin. "Aw, don' ya start callin' me that too! It's already annoying as it is comin' from Rook, Ah don' need ya chimin' in!" Epel exclaimed, his face scrunching up with a frown that was— you would never say this to him out of respect— very cute. "Ah, don' worry, Ah was jus' pullin' your leg." You said while laughing. "Alright, alright, 'night." You said, tapping the screen and ending the call, smiling to yourself.

Boo!! Hi again~~ Here's another post for you guys! Disclaimer here: I have never spoken French in my life so all of the French above was entirely the product of Google Translate. I also have never used country/southern speech before, so I was attempting to mix that with the dialogue I remember from Chapter 5 as well as copious research. I am not fluent in either French or country slang/terms, though writing this was incredibly fun!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this post, and sorry if it was a bit long. For those who are fluent in French or speak with a southern accent, if I made a mistake somewhere in this post, let me know, please! I hope you enjoyed regardless! Bye~! 🧡

[just-a-honey-badger]

could i request some marelliana and first kiss please?

so. yeah i did it! finally! it took two months but i did it! beta read by @the-blender-of-the-genders

it's under the cut btw <3

Biana laughed as ae watched Fitz awkwardly squish himself onto Keefe’s lap as a dare from Stina. Ae could tell they both secretly enjoyed it, even if they’d never admit it. Keefe’s face was flushed bright red and Fitz was touching the middle of his palms, something Biana noticed he only did when he got nervous. 

"Fitz, your turn to do a truth or dare," Stina told him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying attention, as he was too busy admiring Keefe. 

"Fitz!" ae called. He turned toward aer. "Stop staring at Keefe, dude, it’s your turn to go!"

"In my defence, I wasn’t staring," he said, trying (and failing) to regain his composure. "Anyways, uh, Marella! Truth or dare?"

Biana quickly looked at Marella, immediately regretting it after Sophie gave aer a suggestive eyebrow raise. Ae rolled aer eyes in an attempt to hide aer fear of Marella finding out. 

Although, aer inner voice began, it might not be the worst thing to happen. They could like you back! Or they might not, and that’s okay. It would suck, but at least you don’t have to keep this secret anymore. 

Ae shook the thought away. Ae wouldn’t dare tell them, even though there was an 80% chance they already knew. Anyways. 

"Hmm, that’s hard." Marella sighed, before eventually making their choice. "Dare."

Fitz’s mouth stretched into a grin that made Biana want to curl up into a ball. He was almost definitely thinking about how he could humiliate aer as much as possible. Ae started to regret telling him about aer personal life. 

"I dare you," he began, "to propose to someone in this room—like the humans do—completely seriously."

Ae sighed with relief. No uncontrollable blushing for aer, right?

Wrong.

———————————————

They didn’t have to go over to Biana. They could’ve just gone with someone like Keefe or Tam, just for the joke. But to be honest, it felt good to make aer flushed. 

Marella walked over to Biana and smirked. Ae rubbed aer hands down aer face, but Marella could see that ae was smiling underneath. 

"Hold on, gimme a sec. I need tears," they said. They proceeded to try and fake-cry by widening their eyes and staring at the ceiling, but after about fifteen seconds they gave up.

They knelt down in front of aer and straightened their imaginary bowtie. "Biana Amberly Ae/aer-fuck-the-gender-binary Vacker, will you make me the happiest person in the Lost Cities and marry me?" 

"Oh my god," cried Biana, through tears of aer own—probably from laughter; everyone else was laughing and Marella was barely keeping it together. "Yes, yes, a million times yes! Oh, I can’t even say that with a straight face. I’m too gay for this." That’s what it took for them both to explode into laughter, leaning on each other for support. 

They made eye contact, and suddenly everything else faded into the background. The world was made of just them, and for that brief period, everything seemed perfect. Marella wouldn’t have changed a thing.

"I don’t want to break up you lovebirds, but it’s your turn, Marella," said Linh, trying to cover up vir giggles. 

"Oh. Shit, okay. Biana." They turned towards aer, trying to put on a suggestive smirk to cover up how flustered they were. "Truth or dare?"

"Fuck you, darling," ae said. 

"Shouldn’t we wait a bit for that? I mean, we just got engaged. Our friends are all here." Marella grinned smugly as Biana rolled aer eyes.

"I pick dare," Biana decided. 

"I dare you to spend ten minutes in a closet with me."

"Sure." 

———————————————

Ae almost cried when they said that. All of it. It seemed surprisingly genuine—almost rehearsed. 

Marella sat down next to Biana. "So. Hi," they said quietly, in stark contrast to their normal loud, energetic voice. 

"Hi," ae replied. 

"You’re probably wondering what the fuck that was."

"Very much so."

"Basically, uh, I. I like you. A lot." They paused, awaited aer reaction. Biana has no idea what ae looked like in that moment, but it probably wasn’t the calm smile ae was going for. Could they actually be telling the truth? Probably not. It was most likely just a stupid prank. 

Marella continued, oblivious to Biana’s deprecating thoughts. "Some would even call it love, should they know how intense it is. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Since Level Four, when we both had these new, queer feelings and didn’t know who to talk to so we turned to each other. I felt like you understood me better than anyone else in the world. I still do. No offense to Keefe."

"None taken. Continue your love confession," he replied through the door. 

"Thank you. Wait." They looked back at the door before resuming their rant. "Actually, I don’t care. As I was saying, seeing you smile alone can make my week. Everything about you just feels so perfect and I don’t understand how you don’t think so. I was so dedicated to you, to our friendship, and I felt my heart ripped in two when we drifted apart. Our relationship is something that I cherish so, so much and I don’t want to lose that—I never have—but then I did. And, after months of therapy and coming to terms with myself and my identity, I came to the rather huge realization that I love you, Biana. I really, really do. And you don’t have to do anything about this now, or at all. I just want you to know."

Biana tried to suppress aer grin, still plagued with the worry that it could be fake. Ae felt aer face burn brighter than ae thought possible. "Really?" 

"Yeah, duh," they teased, but there was no real teasing behind it. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." 

They sat in silence for a few moments, sharing a glance or a smile every now and then. Biana didn't mind. Ae could have stayed like that forever and still be content. 

"Can I kiss you?" ae blurted out suddenly. "Sorry. That was random. Can I, though?"

"…Yeah. Please do."

Ae leaned forward, nervous and unprepared. Ae closed aer eyes—that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Ae had no idea—and pressed aer lips against Marella’s.

It wasn’t perfect. Obviously. But it still meant something. It felt… different. New, exciting, good. Ae wanted to do it again. And again. And again. 

"Can we…" Marella looked shy, something ae still wasn’t used to. "Can we do that one more time?"

Biana nodded so quickly it hurt.

———————————————

[weiying-lanzhan-fics]

a love like this by moonsteps

I loved it! What a sweet, endearing, thoughtful story ❤️❤️

Quotes:

Wei Ying prides himself in his alcohol tolerance. He really does. This night was simply an outlier. 

So he got tipsy. Just a bit.

Okay. Maybe more than just a bit. 

And he went to dance. It was to loosen up his limbs, shake himself out, all that jazz. He grabbed the nearest person by the shoulder—a guy, taller than him by a bit, really really stiff. He felt like an animated rock, and he absolutely refused to play along.

“What are you doing?” said The Guy, and wow. What a voice. Damn. 

“Dancing,” said Wei Ying, leaning over till his lips were right by the base of The Guy’s throat. The Guy seemed to go even more rigid at this, which, well, hello? “What’re you doing huh? Why’re you standing like that? Ow. My head hurts, what the fuck. Gimme your hands—no, no not like that. Put them on my waist—oh fucking hell have you never danced with someone before?”

“Get off of me,” said The Guy, not putting his hands anywhere near Wei Ying’s waist.

Wei Ying pouted, bottom lip jutting out like a baby. Which was stupid, because Wei Ying absolutely did not cry.

He burst into tears approximately twenty seconds later.

Well, maybe. He doesn’t know if there were actually tears or not.

————

The universe is a fucking joke.

Have you ever noticed how you literally don’t know a person—you have never seen them literally ever in your life before—and then all of a sudden after you do meet them they’re suddenly fucking everywhere?

This is currently happening to Wei Ying. 

With Lan Zhan.

He sees him all the time now—on his way to class, he’ll see Lan Zhan exiting a faraway building, picturesque and perfect and stunningly beautiful as he glides across campus. He’ll see him randomly at the grocery store, when Wei Ying is busy stuffing his cart full with frozen meals and Lan Zhan just happens to be passing by, his own cart consisting of fresh fruits, vegetables, and at least seven different sources of protein. 

M, 25k

Summary:

And, standing a healthy twenty feet away from Wei Ying, is The Guy.

The Guy as in: six-foot-something, striking golden eyes, long pretty fingers curling around the spine of a textbook. He has the face of a movie star, a model, whatever, and he’s definitely not someone you’d expect to see at eight o’clock on a Monday morning without so much as a cup of the trashy coffee they sell in the dining hall nursed against his chest. It’s a very nice chest.

Wei Ying would know, because this is the same guy he puked on in the backseat of a dingy cab two weeks ago.

@biqings

[regrettablewritings]

Dating Bruce Wayne Would Include

(Btw I am using the Batman v Superman Bruce Wayne, y’all)

Not being entirely sure as to how it all even happened

On the off-chance that you’re one of Gotham’s minimal elite, you probably met Bruce at a charity gala and, for some reason beyond your comprehension, he picked you out of the other well-dressed women

In the higher likelihood that you don’t come from an affluent family, there’s a multitude of possibilities as to where you met: Maybe you were at a gala working as part of the catering company and he accidentally spilled red wine on you. Maybe you worked as an intern or temp or had a desk job somewhere in the Wayne Enterprise building in Gotham. Or maybe he just saw some assholes giving you a rough time and he stepped in and then offered to walk you home.

While you and Bruce were still in a technical courting period, you could’ve sworn you felt somebody’s presence at night whenever you walked home from work.

This, of course, caused you extreme worry – Gotham isn’t a hotbed of crime for nothing, after all.

It wasn’t until a mugger attempted to not only get your purse, but fresh and handsy as well, that you finally learned what that feeling of being watched had been coming from

You nearly browned your bottoms when you saw the Bat of Gotham looming over the mugger and found yourself too shocked to even scream when he dealt out his own brand of justice

When Batman told you to be mindful of your surroundings and to hurry home before swooping away into the night with his latest prison deposit, you could only nod with widened eyes.

You didn’t say anything until you got home, where it all came crashing down. To be honest, you geeked out: It’s not every day that someone gets to meet *the* Batman

You gleefully call Bruce about it. He doesn’t answer it until later, but you can hear a smirk in his voice as he responds to your fangirling

“–and he’s so tall, Bruce! Like, at least 6'2”! Maybe even 3!!“ “Is that so?” “And god, he’s so cut!” “Okay, watch it.”

You find out the truth, of course, on accident

You got held for ransom when a particularly ambitious baddy learned you were courting Bruce Wayne. You supposed Bruce had made a deal with Batman to retrieve you when he came crashing through the window of the warehouse you were tied up in.

After a particularly brutal fight between your kidnapper and your hero, you noticed his cowl was broken just enough to see a slip of your savior’s face.

Wait, you know that eye… And that chin …!

“… Bruce?” “…”

Bruce taking you back to his home to clean the both of you up and to explain everything to you

To be honest, you’re a little upset. It’s to be expected, considering that somebody you were potentially romantically involved with was masquerading around town dressed like every night was Halloween, getting into dangerous situations

But also understanding why he does it and while you may not necessarily agree with some of his more controversial methods (especially as of late), you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that he was putting everything at risk just to make sure what happened to him doesn’t happen to somebody else.

Once you two become a couple, you also become Gotham’s “it” couple. Whether you want to or not.

Nicknames being a little weird for Bruce

He may have had that playboy reputation for a long while, but he’s well aware that he’s starting to hit silver fox territory. He decides that it’s important for him to be classy with what he calls you

However, Babe and Honey are the only things he can manage to utter that don’t feel as weird.

He’ll call you Baby Girl in private, though

You, however, are far more lenient (after all, one of you guys has to be the lighter one in this couple)

Your nicknames for him tend to also include Babe and Honey, but also extend to Sweetie, Brucie, Heartthrob, and Prince.

“Daddy” is behind closed doors

Galas, charities, balls, etc. becoming way more a part of your life than you probably ever wanted them to be

Bruce picking out clothes and accessories for said galas, charities, balls, etc.

You appreciate the effort, but really, who needs so many things!?

You make an agreement that you’ll donate the dresses you’re least likely to use and reuse the ones you love the most

Doing this wins both good and bad attention from the press and Gotham elite alike

If anyone gives you problems, however, you’d best believe that your 6′3″ monstrosity of a beefboyfriend is going to approach them with some kind words, delivered by a smooth voice in a charming smile

Occasionally assisting Alfred with the Bat Tech

Helping out around Bruce’s home

It may not be as big or lavish as Wayne Manor, but you still don’t think it’s right to just let Alfred do all the work

Being incorporated into Bruce’s workout routine. This can include:

Sitting on his back while he does push-ups

Or laying beneath him while he does push-ups so that ever time he goes down, you get a kiss

Serving as a weight he lifts (though really, he’s more so doing it to make you laugh; the workout is just a plus)

You telling him that being a prop in making him fit doesn’t count as quality time, by the way

… Which results in him having you join in on the fun and doing nearly the same regimen, but reduced dramatically specifically for you

You nearly fought him for making you do this but you were too sore and tired to move by the end of it.

Bruce training you to defend yourself. The presence of people in his life such as Lex or Waller have him on high-awareness of how easy it’d be for the wrong people to connect you to not only Bruce Wayne, but to Batman as well.

He was quite proud of you when you landed a mean right hook on him and grinned even though it hurt

Bruce slowly becoming more open to you about the impact his parents’ death has had on him.

You expressed a lot of concern over him after you realized he’s seen some stuff. He may not have PTSD, but he definitely has some issues that he’s not readily addressing

He doesn’t really begin pouring out anything until a particularly bad nightmare where he not only relieves witnessing his parents dying, but then sees his mother turn into you before demanding to know why he didn’t try harder to save you/his mother.

If he doesn’t talk to you about it that night, then the best you can do is hold him and try to get you both back to sleep.

He probably gets up early, either because he couldn’t sleep at all or he felt guilty, and attempts making you breakfast as an apology. You both talk about what transpired the previous night after allowing the sweetness of French toast to clear your minds.

Constantly being a target of the paparazzi – and usually for the worse, with many papers suggesting that you’re a gold-digger

It comes with the territory of dating Gotham’s biggest bachelor, unfortunately

You either don’t give a crap because you know it’s not the truth and continue going on your merry way, or you try to compensate by taking up more shifts at your job and refusing to let Bruce buy you anything you couldn’t afford

Bruce eventually sits you down to talk about it if you go with the latter

Attending the annual Zorro Film Festival with him because it’s not only a great bonding experience, but you also know the importance of these films, being the last thing he and his parents saw together

Trips to the Wayne Botanical Garden

Having to be careful about which plants you call pretty.

Because if he hears you say anything, a bouquet or pot of whichever plants you commented on are likely to find their way to your workplace, your apartment, or your bedside if you spent the night at his place

Waiting up for him to come home from his nightly patrols even though he keeps telling you not to

Sometimes, you pretend to be asleep on the couch so that when he comes home, he carries you to your bed. You’re pretty sure he knows what you’re up to, though

Bruce knows

Ending up on top of Bruce if you two fall asleep together

You assume that you inherently do it in your sleep because it feels nice to lay on top of your big, nice-smelling boyfriend

Really, it’s because more than 67% of the time, Bruce pulls you on top of him

You act as a sort of weighted blanket that helps him sleep better

Meeting Diana Prince and getting a girl crush of sorts on her

She’s just so beautiful and strong and smart and cool and –

You nearly fainting when she happily offers to teach you how to fight with a sword since Bruce didn’t take the initiative to do so

Being aware of his newfound hunt for Metahumans 

Sometimes he wonders if he’s even making a difference.

He’s been in the game so long, seen so many awful things. It’s caused him to do plenty of considerably bad things as well. But it never seems to stick, and it’s almost as though the people are getting worse

You need to offer him support, insisting that while you worry about him with every patrol, you know he’s trying to do what’s right and that while it may not seem that way, his presence has assured that Gotham won’t fall further than what it could be

Being able to tell when he’s had a particularly rough night.

His usual silence feels different; heavier, if you had to use a word

He becomes a lot more handsy with you, but affectionate. As if you’re the last flower in a prized garden and he never noticed until now

If you’re actually asleep by the time he gets back, you may get woken up by him caressing your cheek, rubbing a thumb over your hand, or him putting his heavy arms around you to pull you in close

If you try and ask what’s wrong, he likely won’t say anything and just get into a sitting position and hold you in his lap and just hug you

You don’t press for more or anything, you just let it happen

You always fall asleep in this position. Usually, by the time you’ve lost consciousness, Bruce murmurs about how you’re one of the only good things left in this city

He means it

@kurtwxgners

[sweetnsinfull]

Tall Over Ice | K. Bakugo x E. Kirishima |

⪀Pairing: K. Bakugo. X Fem!Reader X E. Kirishima

⪀Word Count: 4.8k

⪀Summary: You’ve never been all that great at relationships, so as school winds to a close and summer break draws near, you decide to spend your 3 months of freedom with your nose buried in new books, rather than hanging out with friends you don’t have. Luckily for you, two Barnes and Noble baristas just happens to catch your attention, and suddenly you find yourself crushing on the boyishly charming Kirishima, and the gruff, romance novel loving Bakugo.

⪀Rating: Explicit

⪀Genre: Porn with a teensy bit of plot.

⪀Warnings: Minors DO NOT Interact!! Vaginal sex, threesome, Alcohol consumption, Slight Dub Con (reader is drunk, but not off their ass), cumming inside (wear a condom please), teasing, one instance of dumbification and mild degradation.

⪀AN: I’ve had this bad boy in the drafts for the last two weeks. I got addicted to drawing my OC again, and totally got side tracked. This work is a part of @miriobaby ‘s university collab! Thanks for letting me participate! If you really enjoy it, please consider reblogging, rather than just liking it.

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters I write for are aged up. Thanks!

Relationships never quite worked out the way you wanted them to. Things were just too complicated. It was nearly impossible to balance 21 credit hours at your university, the part time job you’d picked up, keeping your apartment clean and trying to keep up with a partner, let alone a sexual one. After two failed relationships and an attempt at a friends with benefits situation, you gave up. Your social life was pretty much dead. Occasionally you’d chitchat with your roommate in the laundry room, or drop by one of your professors offices to shoot the shit, but you really didn’t have friends. Instead, you buried yourself into your studies, and video games once in a blue moon, anything to keep your mind off of how lonely you felt.

Close to the end of the semester, you chose to use one of your rare days off to go to the Barnes and Nobles in town, with the intent on getting a new book to keep your attention. Summer break was just around the corner, meaning you’d finally be able to get back into reading for pleasure, one of your preferred past times when there wasn’t any school work to keep you busy. You climbed into your beat up Honda Civic, buckled yourself in, and made your way to one of your favorite stores.

Barnes and Nobles was rather quiet for a Saturday, just a few people meandering here and there, with books or journals tucked under their arms. You went straight for the historical fiction section, hoping to pick up some sort of romance novel set in World War Two, or a dystopian Western. As your eyes scanned up and down the shelves, occasionally you’d pluck a book from the display, flip it over in your hands and skim the summary to see if it peaked your interests. While you had decided beforehand that you would only get one book, there were three that caught your interest. You had extra money in your ‘Dick around it’s summer’ budget anyway, so with a small shrug, you carried your chosen three to the register and paid for them. On your way out, you decided that a drink was in order since you’d skipped breakfast, and the sweet smell of fresh brewed coffee wafting over you as you headed for the exit was calling your name.

The barista was a tall man, with wild blond hair sticking out from beneath the green visor that adorned his head. Red eyes met yours, knocking a bit of air from your lungs with just how intense this man looked, while wiping down a countertop of all things. “Gimme a minute.” He said gruffly, earning a click of the teeth from someone you couldn’t quite see behind a curtain a short, dark curtain, covering a doorway.

“Bakugo, that’s not polite.” The voice called, slipping past the curtain to reveal wildly broad shoulders beneath a tan turtleneck and long red hair tied up in a messy bun. His green apron was decorated with various brightly colored buttons that clink together as he walked over. Your eyes caught a couple of them with silly sayings, making your lips twitch upwards into a smile. “Sorry, he’s new. What can I get for you today?” He asks kindly, grinning and showing off a pearly white row of pointy looking teeth.

“No, it’s cool.” You brush off with a small shrug, offering a sympathetic smile. “I work in retail. I totally get it. Could I get a tall, iced cold brew with a shot of espresso?” You ordered, already fishing around your purse for your wallet to pay.

“Sure thing, love! What’s the name for that order?” He quickly replies, the little term of endearment making your cheeks heat up ever so slightly. You relay your name to him, and watch the blond bustle around the small area, pouring things into a cup before he calls your name and presses the cup into your palm, with a little green straw.

“Thank you!” You chirp, offering him an appreciative smile that makes him blush this time, as he shrugs back at you, and turns back to the redhead, who waves at you, calling after you to have a great day. If you would’ve had cash, you would’ve tipped them both. You’ll have to remember that for next time.

The summer passed by much too quickly. Every few weeks you return to follow the same cycle. Buy a couple books, grab a drink at the café, and chit chat with the baristas, who you come to learn are Kirishima and Bakugo, both seniors at your university who had been best friends in high school, and started dating their freshman year of college. You learned that Kirishima was the sweeter and more open of the two. He always had a bright smile on his handsome face, and he’d frequently up your drink size or hand you a cake pop or a scone just because “you deserve a little something sweet”. Bakugo is a little more rough around the edges. Quiet and almost always broody, it’s not uncommon for you to catch him reading a book, though you would’ve never guessed he was a bookworm from that gruff persona he always wears. He would occasionally give you freebies as well, though even a brush of his hand against yours while he passed you your drink made him fluster, a dark blush coating his cheeks while he huffed out a “whatever” when you thanked him.

Slowly, a surface level friendship began to blossom between the three of you. Bakugo liked giving you romance novel recommendations, and Kirishima loved to talk about comic books or space or dinosaurs, only feeding the familiar feeling of boyish charm you got from him. It came as a bit of a surprise, when the redhead slid you a napkin with his number on it, as he handed you your usual drink order, something both men had come to memorize.

“There’s a party to kick off the start of the semester on Saturday at one of the frat houses. I don’t know if you’re the p-“

You cut him off before he can even finish, excitement bubbling in your gut at the word party alone. “Sure! I’ve actually never been to a college party, so this will be my first. Any sorta dress code I should be aware of?” You ask, sipping your coffee and eyeing the number messily scrawled on the brown napkin. Kirishima shrugs, that goofy, crooked smile playing on his face, a smile that always seemed to quicken the beating of your heart. Maybe you had a little bit of a crush, something that made you feel a bit guilty. Crushing on someone’s partner was pretty dirty, but both of them were gay. There was no way they were leaving one another to get with you, anyway.

“Wear whatever is comfortable! If you want, you can shoot us a text and we’ll come grab you from your place?” He offers, bringing you out of your guilty thoughts. You nod, trying to play off your earlier train of thought.

“Gotcha. I can do that. I’ll see you two lovebirds on Saturday then!”

Saturday is a mess. You’d decided you wanted to get your hair done, which had taken so much longer than you’d planned for, which in turn made you late for your nail appointment, which left you rushing around your apartment, holding up dresses and considering something more casual. It was a frat party, after all, not some sort of fall formal. Finally, when your make up was done, and your hair was perfect, you pulled your phone off of charger to send Kirishima a text.

Hey! I’m ready. I’m in the Lakeview Apartment Building. If you text me, I’ll come right down, okay?

You read, and reread the message a few times before pressing send, anxiety eating at you, as you slide on a pair of tall heels to compliment the tight, black dress that accentuates your curves. Your phone buzzes twice, and with another shaky breath, you read the notification.

Deal! Katsuki and I are on our way! We’ll text you when we’re outside.

Bakugo drives a sleek, black SUV, that’s bumping music that seems to pound in time with your heart as Kirishima hops out to help you into the backseat, insisting he doesn’t want you to bust your ass in your heels, and he’s right. The metal bar along the bottom that’s supposed to be used to climb in is too slippery, so the man easily manhandles you into the backseat, going as far as to buckle you in with a grin and a “Safety first!” That makes you blush a bit.

The party is mostly noise and heat. People cheering on a game of beer pong on the back porch, the sounds of splashing as people jump into the large pool, and music loud enough that you cringe. Kirishima high-fives some of the people he sees on his way in, but Bakugo sticks close to you, your hips bumping together every now and again as you make your way through the crowd to get drinks. There’s a huge plastic tub of something you assume must be jungle juice propped up on a plastic folding table, as well as various bottles of alcohol lined up with bright red solo cups.

“Hell yeah, they have IPA!” Kirishima cheered, picking a bottle of beer, while Katsuki busied himself pouring various liquids into a cup, before he pressed the drink towards you, the familiar action making you smile, despite how much the loud music was making your head hurt. You sipped, surprised that you couldn’t taste any alcohol at all, and instead find something that tastes almost like fruit punch instead. When all three of you have your drinks, you make your way to the dance floor, rather surprised at the way the alcohol seems to peel away Bakugo’s hard nature. He wastes no time rolling his hips to the beat of the music right behind you, your back pressed against his chest. Kirishima slots himself in front, long hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as he presses his hips into yours, his beer bottle raised high above the two of you.

The dance makes your head spin, though it thankfully doesn’t last long. Drinks are refilled and the process continues, the three of you rotating between being pressed up against one another’s sweaty bodies and rocking to the beat, and sucking down drink after drink, until you start to wobble a bit. Bakugo notices almost immediately, a hand resting on your hip to steady you as he leans in, huffing whiskey scented breath over your neck.

“You’re drunk.” He points out, obviously. You scoff and press your ass into his groin, the roll too coordinated to come from a drunk person.

“Just tipsy.” You murmur back, eyes flickering up to meet Kirishima’s crimson gaze, from where he hulks over the both of you. His tongue swipes out to lick over his bottom lip as he takes in the way Bakugo grinds into you with fervor, his cock visibly straining against the fabric of his black jeans. The two of them lock eyes, something oddly knowing being passed between the two lovers. Together, the three of you stumble off of the dimly lit dance floor, squeezing between other partygoers as you make your way back out to the car. Kirishima presses you back into the cool metal, caging you between muscular arms as he eyes you up and down like prey.

“Wanna come back to our place? We’ve…never done this before, so bare with us.” He pleads. You nod, quickly, panties already damp from the way Bakugo’s dick was pressing so firmly between your supple ass cheeks just a moment ago. Thankfully, Kirishima has only had a couple beers, and feels comfortable driving himself over to one of the student housing apartments situated on the campus. Their apartment is surprisingly well maintained for two college students. Bakugo helps peel your heels off and lines them up at the door, filling in an already existing row of various pairs of large shoes. He slides his hand into yours and easily leads you back towards their bedroom, the mood shifting almost visibly. Bakugo has to stand on his tiptoes to slam his lips into Kirishima’s, his hands making quick work of shoving down his pants and boxers in one fluid motion. You’re pressed tightly between their bodies, face reddening at the feeling of both of their cocks pressed into you.

“Been wanting you all night…both of you…” he grumbles into his mouth, as his tongue presses past the redhead’s lips, catching the bitter taste of the IPA he had consumed and the salty burn of pretzels he’d shoved in his mouth while he chose another drink. You can’t help but touch yourself a bit, hand pushing the skirt of your dress up your hips, to press the heel of your palm against your already damp panties.

Kirishima’s dick is big. Bigger than the stupid one night stands you’d had as a freshman…bigger than you’ve ever seen in a porno. For a moment, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to even stand having something that big stretching you open. They peel their clothes off of each other quickly, hands fluid and skilled from years of fucking one another. Fingers brush nipples, mouths leave dark bite marks and hickies in their wake. Occasionally a hand will slip between them, quickly pumping the other’s length in a palm, before they pull away from one another and set hungry eyes on you, watching the way you touch yourself at the sight in front of you. The blond easily maneuvers you onto their bed, and you flop backwards with a small gasp.

“Aren’t you a dirty girl?” Kirishima mumbles, large arms caging you in he stares you down. “Sitting here, touching yourself while the two of us touched each other.” Bakugo is suddenly behind you, hands sliding around your torso and grabbing handfuls of your tits, as he curses under his breath.

“Fuck they’re even better when you hold them…soft…”. He huffs, pressing the fat tip of his cock against your back and smearing precum over the dark fabric of your dress. He shoves the top down, watching your tits spill from the material before he’s on them again, rubbing his fingers along your pebbled nipples and dipping his head into the crook of your neck to mark you. You gasp, and arch your back as he tugs your buds between warm fingertips, only dampening the light blue panties you’d chosen even more with slick.

Kirishima sinks to his knees, and slips his hands beneath your dress to pull the damp fabric down your thighs to pool at your ankles. For a moment, he sits still, taking in your gasps and whimpers from the way Bakugo continues rubbing and rolling your nipples back and forth between the pads of his fingers, and watching your clit swell. “So that’s what it looks like up close.” He hums lowly, hiking your skirt in one hand, and biting up the fat of your thighs with sharp teeth. When you hiss, he swipes his tongue over your labia first, moaning at the taste of your cum. You yelp again, and sit up and he has to eye you for a moment, short eyebrow shot up in surprise. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” He asks, lips nibbling up to your clit as he blows on it.

You shake your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat and struggling to find the words to speak as cold air wafts over your swollen bundle of nerves. “Just been awhile…” you admit, a bit embarrassed. It had been a whole year since you’d fucked anyone, leaving your pussy oversensitive to even the smallest amount of stimulation.

“Oh! You’re just sensitive. I can rock with that.” Kirishima dives back in eagerly, nose bumping your clit and making you groan as he licks into you quickly. He pinches your thigh, making you arch your back and lift your hips off of the bed a bit. “Look at me while I make you cum.” He orders, leaving no room for a reply, before he’s fucking you with his tongue, the slimy muscle dipping in and out of your pussy over and over as he noses your clit, maintaining his unwavering gaze. Bakugo doesn’t let up either, pinching and pulling at your nipples as he grinds his cock against your back. You whine his name, pleasure pooling low in your gut as he eats your cunt like a man starved.

“Like that? Eijiro is good with his mouth.” Bakugo murmurs in your ear, eyeing the dark bruises he’s left in his wake. Your head spins, so close to coming apart as Kirishima grins into your pussy. “Cum…make a mess on his face.” He orders, squeezing your tits in his hands and enjoying the way the fat spills between thick fingers.

You nod, hands dug into the sheets as you mewl, following his instructions. Your pussy clenches around his tongue and you finally cum, creaming all over his mouth. “What a little slut you are…who knew you were so needy?” The blonde degrades, watching the way you toss your head back against his shoulder. Pleasure shoots down your legs like lighting as you squeeze your thighs against the redhead’s face, grinding your twitching clit into his face. Slick coats his chin and mouth as he sits up to catch his breath, grinning ear to ear like an idiot. The couple shares a look again, and in a flash, Bakugo is pushing you up and tugging the zipper of your dress down, and shoving it up and over your head roughly.

The blonde is quick to pull away from you and flip you onto your belly. He keeps a hand on your hips, using his other to force his fingers into Kirishima’s mouth to get them wet, before he drags them between the lips of your pussy, collecting your slick on rough digits before he slowly sinks them into your cunt. You groan, and gummy walls fluttering around them. He pumps them quickly, curling them inside of you and pressing against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

“You’re going to cum that fast? From just my fingers? Kind of pathetic. How hard are you going to cum on my cock?” He asks, flicking his wrist quicker and scissoring his fingers to stretch you out.

“Bak- Kats-” you babble, struggling to form words every time he brushes against your g spot, adding a third finger so he’s sure you’re ready for his weeping cock. Kirishima sits back against the pillows, jerking his dick lazily. His gaze sweeps up and down your body, clearly enjoying the show.

“Damn Suki, you fucked her dumb, from just a few fingers! I guess Mina was right, curling your fingers does help. Do you feel it?” He asks, maybe a bit too curious. He hadn’t felt it when he was eating you out, and for a moment, he wanted to make his boyfriend move so he could try and find your g spot himself, but his cock was already dribbling precum down his fist. The last thing he wanted to do was push his luck on just how much more he could stand. The way you whimpered and squirmed and leaked more cum down Bakugo’s wrist when it became too much made his cock twitch in his hand.

Your sloppy cunt squelches when he pulls his digits free. The blond turns them over in the low light streaming in from the bedroom and pulls his fingers apart a few times to test the viscosity of the liquid. “Yeah, I did feel it…All that, just for some fingers and tongue?” He grunts, voice still deep and teasing as he uses his dry hand to maneuver your boneless body onto your back. Taking in your flushed cheeks and fucked out gaze, he huffs a breath out of his nose, and grasps your jaw tightly. “Open wide.” He commands, smirking a bit when you are quick to comply, and part your lips for him. Without any hesitation, he shoves his slick coated fingers into your mouth, eyelids drooping when you wrap your tongue around them and stare up at him.

“She ready?” Kirishima asks, catching your attention and drawing Bakugo from thoughts about fucking your throat, as he fumbles around in their nightstand drawer. The red head takes his time, spreading lube up and down his veiny cock.

“Don’t look at him.” He grumbles, when your eyes wander across the bed to the redhead. “I’m going to fuck you, and you better not pay Shitty Hair any attention.” He warns, spanking your oversensitive clit with a heated hand, enjoying the way your mouth sucks his fingers in deeper.

“All ready on my end.” Kirishima informs, a large hand pressing into the small of his boyfriend’s back, and pushing him over you. Your sweat slick back finds the plush of the mattress, and his pecs brush your already oversensitive nipples. Your eyes dance in his gaze, taking in the scent of musk and aftershave. Face to face, you notice that Bakugo has a small scar just above the bridge of his nose, but before you can get lost in the little nuances of his handsome face, he’s running the tip of his cock between your puffy folds. Hands finding purchase on either side of your hips, he rolls his pelvis, engorged manhood catching your clit as he teases you.

“She’s more than ready for me, aren’t you?” He asks, vermillion eyes half lidded, and clouded with lust. You manage a nod, and he slowly sinks his cock between your lips, leaning his full body weight on top of you and groaning your name in your ear. You shiver and grasp at the taught muscles on his back. The stretch is immaculate and the veins along his cock drag against your g spot, making you clench down on him as he fills every crevice of your velvety walls. Kirishima takes up the space behind him, wasting no time setting large hands on Bakugo’s toned hips, and surging into his boyfriend’s tight ass. You buck your hips upwards, jaw sliding open as you moan for him, music to Kirishima’s ears. Bakugo cants his hips, ever so slightly and licks at the bruises he’s left on your shoulders.

“Shit you’re tight Katsu…” Kirishima whines, his face screwed up behind his boyfriend as he tries his best to stay still. Any movement, and he’d only surge Bakugo’s cock deeper into your pussy, but it takes everything in him to be patient and wait for you to open up for them.

“M okay…” you slur, looking over Bakugo’s scarred shoulder to eye the redhead with half lidded eyes and a sideways smile. Bakugo wastes no time and nudges himself backwards on his boyfriend to rut into you with a deep groan.

Kirishima picks up the message and joins in, hips slamming into Bakugo’s, and surging him forward to push into your weeping pussy. Even during sex the two are polar opposites. The redhead is noisy, moaning and complimenting Bakugo on how tight his ass is, occasionally whining about how he wants to cum and fill his boyfriend to the brim. Bakugo is quiet and goal oriented, determined to watch you fall apart on his length. He slips a hand between your sweat slick bodies to thumb your overstimulated clit in circles. He huffs hot breath against your neck and grunts in your ear, occasionally grumbling about how you love being split on his cock, and how your pussy is swallowing him so good.

Your head spins, chest heaving as goosebumps blossom along your skin. White hot pleasure shoots through every axon in your body as you take in Kirishima’s needy face, his eyes closed tightly and hit lip tucked between his teeth as he bites down on it. He’s so lost in the sounds the three of you make, the quick slap of his balls on Bakugo’s shapely ass, the airy whines and whimpers tumbling from your mouth, the squishes that your pussy produces every time Bakugo’s cock kisses your cervix, that he doesn’t notice the muscles in his boyfriend’s back twitching, a tell tale sign he was drawing closer to his orgasm.

“Where?” Bakugo asks, hips growing wild and sloppy as he pulls away just enough to get a good look at your fuck drunk expression. “Cum…shit…where?” He questions again, a bit more urgently. Brain foggy with pre orgasm bliss, you shake your head, struggling to put coherent thoughts together.

“In-Inside!” You cry, body arching off of the bed as Kirishima delivers a harsh thrust that sends Bakugo impossibly deeper into you, and draws a moan from the both of your mouths. In a split second, your resolve breaks. The coil of pleasure thats been building, tugging at your gut with every rough thrust finally snaps, and you cream around Bakugo’s cock, leaking down your thighs and dampening the bed below you. Bakugo’s breath hitches in his throat as he’s caught off guard. Your walls clamp down on him like a vice grip, and he lets out an breathy groan, and shakes sweat from his spiky blond hair like a dog.

“Too tight…” he moans, eyes screwed closed as he finally cums, jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine as he shoots line after line of thick cum into your pussy. “Holy fucking shit” he curses, fucking his cum deeper into you.

Kirishima tumbles over the edge last, with quick huffs of “Gonna cum, please gonna cum so hard, too good to me, so good!” He paints Bakugo’s ass with hot ropes of cum, so much that as he gives shallow thrusts to ride out his orgasm, lines of white drip down the back of Bakugo’s toned thighs.

Everyone catches their breath in their own time, the only sounds between you deep pants and shallow breaths. Even as Bakugo and Kirishima begin slowly untangling themselves from one another, you struggle to steady your wild heart. Your eyes flutter closed as Bakugo slowly pulls his softening cock from your swollen lips. The sudden wetness of a warm cloth brushing your overstimulated clit pulls you back to reality, and as your eyes snap open, you find the redhead dabbing at cum that’s started to seep out of you. He gives you one of those boyish, lopsided grins that makes your chest ache, and takes a moment to enjoy the view of your puffy lips leaking messily onto your plush thighs as he wipes it all away. Bakugo forces a cool bottle of water into your palm and leans down to capture your lips in a quick kiss, that sucks the breath from your lungs.

Together, all three of you cuddle up in bed, you head resting back against a soft pillow. Kirishima traces circles up and down your belly, while Bakugo dozes behind you, not used to staying up so late at night, and drained from the good lay he just had.

“That was actually really great.” Kirishima whispers, dipping his head to speak into the shell of your ear. “You’re really great, I mean. At everything. That was our first time with a girl.” He compliments, always sweet.

“You both know one another’s bodies so well. It’s sweet.” You murmur, looking down at the wild head of spikes pressing into your chest, moving with every small breath you took.

“It comes with the territory. I think I speak for both of us when I say that we would like to come to know your body that way, if you’d let us, of course.” The last thing the redhead wants to do is sound pushy or clingy. He relaxes, tension oozing out of his shoulders when you shake your head and lean into him.

“I would love to do any of that all over again, for as long as you’ll have me.” You promise, sighing lowly and closing your eyes. Kirishima looks like a child that has just won a gargantuan plushie at the fair as he tugs you and Bakugo into him. You inhale the scents buried in the soft material of the pillow, finding the lingering smell of Starbucks coffee and the sandalwood cologne Kirishima seems to always have on, and finally start to doze off to sleep to the sound of Bakugo’s soft breaths against your chest and the rumble of Kirishima’s deep snores. The deep ache between your legs makes you feel oddly...content and loved. All because you were looking for books to keep you occupied during summer break.

[chameleon-madrigal]

Omg hey-

s o :>

i was wonderin if you could gimme a camilo x reader where reader does a bReaK uP pRaNk on camilo:D

thank uuuuuuuuuu

XIV | Cuentos de Camilo

(Camilo Short Stories)

Title: Pranking the prankster

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Camilo x GN!Reader

Warnings: A bit sad in the middle

Summary: Camilo is like the pranking leader of Encanto, its like his whole life was spent on mastering it. When you two started dating, he would pull up simple pranks to make you smile but it gets out of hand. So when you had enough, you decided to pull up the biggest prank that he never expect.

He/him pronouns for Camilo

They/them pronouns for Reader

Note: Ahhh hellooo there Razor :> This plot is really cute, I got so excited thinking about it! I hope I wrote it clearly!! I was so busy, sorry for the delay but Thank you for this and Enjoy <3

When it comes to pranks, no one can really stop Camilo. Like no one, not even you. At first, you were like super fine with it, and constantly you would just laugh it out together with him. But sometimes his pranks can be a little too extreme.

You would constantly fight about it, but he would end up do things for your forgiveness and ofcourse, who can stay mad at him for long? Not you, thats for sure.

"Hey Luisa, have you seen Camilo?" You asked her, as she was the only Madrigal you have seen at the moment.

"Surprisingly I haven't, check in the Casita maybe he went home for arepas" Luisa said as she patted your head gently, being a caring and sweet friend that she is.

You thanked her as you are currently walking towards Casita, you saw Luisa coming towards you which made you halt in your tracks.

"Oh hey Y/N!!" Luisa waved hesitantly as she noticed the look on your face when she got closer, to which she sighed. "—let me guess, you saw me earlier but as we know, that was probably Camilo" She added as you nodded and gave her a smile and walked back in town.

You frowned as you were really tired and Camilo just had to let you go back and forth to the whole town. You scanned your eyes for a possible townfolk that is acting like Camilo Madrigal. Until one kid, tugs on your skirt.

"Are you..Y/N?" The little girl asked which you leaned down to be at her eye level and then nodded.

"Yes, I am. Why, whats the matter?" You gently said at her to make her comfortable, because it looks like she was anxious or nervous about something.

"Are you..are you the person Camilo is dating?"

"Yeah...that's me?" You said unsurely on why this girl suddenly asked you such a thing.

"Well, he told me to tell you to meet him at that top of the hill" She said and pointed at the hill of our usual spot. You instantly smiled, as the doubts that were starting to fill your head earlier were now gone.

"Awh gracias niña" You squish her cheeks and started to walk on where Camilo is 'waiting'

But as soon as you arrived on top of the hill, there was a note placed in the tree you would always stay at.

'Oh look your Cami still not here, I know you already miss me ;) Look below the hill, specifically in the bridge. You'll find your chameleon'

At this moment, IF you weren't tired you'll be overwhelmed by this goofy surprises but right now you just wanted some cuddles or sleep and your boyfriend isn't helping.

"That punk, shapshifted into Luisa and even a little girl to trick me" You groaned and turned to the bridge he said and there he is. Waving at you as he motioned you to come down to go to him.

You went down the hill and went straight to where Camilo at, pissed. As he opened his arms wide but immediately put them down as soon as he saw you.

"Woah, I think you could really use some rest, vida" He said as he held your hand, which made you smile sarcastically.

"Exactly, I am tired I just want to plop down into your bed but you decided to have me tour myself in town. Really, Madrigal?" You said getting annoyed at the moment.

Camilo knew what he did, and he felt bad also scared because you just called him by his last name. That's the real horror there.

"Look, I was just messing with you no need to be like this" He said which made you pissed and walked away, going to the Casita. "—Oh come on! Really?!" He said as he tried catching up to you but as soon as he held your arm, you would just continue walking and ignoring him.

"Milo, please let me reach your room and we'll talk" You groaned as you felt your body becoming heavy with tiredness as Camilo kepts on pulling you.

You thought he finally stopped but he suddenlg pulled you closer to him, and carried you like a bag of sack. You tried getting out of his grip by slapping his back, but no avail.

"Amor, I would like to catch you if you fall but im now going upstairs so please stop moving" He said gently as you stopped moving.

You saw Pepa downstairs looking worriedly at you two as a cloud appeared in his head. Camilo seemed to have a Mamí instinct in his, coz he knows a cloud appeared even if he wasn't looking.

"Mamí, no te preocupes. We're both fine" He said as you gave Pepa a thumbs up as she nodded and the cloud disappeared, because of the smile she is now wearing.

You both arrived at his room, as he put you down gently on the bed. He went back to his door and closed it but as soon as he saw you, you ended up sleeping on his bed. He chuckled at the sight and fixed your position as he went beside you and cuddled, him being your big spoon.

~•~

You woke up at the feeling of someone caressing your head and you knew it was Camilo, so you decided to pretend sleeping.

"I'm sorry Amor, didn't know you were tired. I hope you forgive me" He said and kissed your cheeks, trying so hard not to smile.

"I would die if we won't last forever, you are the only person who knows how to handle someone like me. I have my flaws but you love me endlessly. How did I deserve such an angel like you?" He said as you sense a hint of doubtness in his voice, which you can't really bare to hear it from him.

So you opened your eyes and stood up, he was shocked at first but you held his cheeks and leaned your forehead to his.

"mi amor, mi bebe, mi alma gemela, mi novio bromista, mi todo. Te amo. No matter how many guys the world has, I'll choose you because your flaws are what makes you, YOU. You are Camilo Madrigal you deserve everything that will make you happy, everyone does. The right person will love you for your flaws, because love isn't meassured by how perfect someone is but how you accept them with all your heart with it. And if we did break up, I would rather die first than to have it happen"

You said and smiled. He has overwhelming tears in his eyes as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you. You both pulled away after a minute and then he chuckled.

"So I'll guess more pranks for you, then"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, as you held up a pillow and throw it in his face.

"Just watch out, amor. Someday I'm gonna get you with the most amazing prank"

"Yeah, yeah goodluck with that" He said and tackled you in his bed, laughing at the process.

Weeks after weeks, Camilo really step up his game with his pranks after you told him, you'll have your revenge. It looks like he didn't want to lose in this pranking thing when there is even no competition.

So you decided to make a plan not so dangerous but you knew this would get up in his nerves. Ofcourse, a good planned prank wouldn't be effective without the help of others. You carefullg would tell the Madrigals what you've planned, without Camilo suspecting anything, so that they wouldn't also panic at his reaction knowing he would be a mess and also there would be no misunderstanding.

"Isn't this too much?" Pepa asked as she keeps on combing her hair to avoid the worry she's starting to think, ofcourse Felix would help her calm down.

"Nah, its time for him to learn how to pay the price" Mirabel snickered as Isabela high fived with her, as Luisa just shook her head, getting worried at how her primo would react to this.

"Well, if this would lessen his prank things, then okay I'll just tell Abuela about this. And Y/N once things started to get out of hand, you will tell him right?" She said and suddenly appeared a cloud above everyone of you.

"YES TOTALLY!" You said worrying to be drizzled by the cloudrain, as it suddenly disappeared.

"He's here, act normal!" Dolores said and squeeked, as you mentally facepalmed at the thought of them acting the opposite of normal act like nothing happened when told to.

"HeyY CAmiLo/MiLo/Mi hijo" All of them coincidentally said at the same time, as I looked at Camilo who have his face confused.

"Okayy?? Wow I feel loved" He smugly said as the others just scoffed at him and went back to their chores, leaving you, Mirabel and Camilo alone.

"Heyy, vida what brings you here?" He said as he went closer to hug you but you decided to high fived his hand instead, trying not to laugh the frown formed in his face.

"Bye, Milo. Mirabel thank you for the advice!!" You said and quickly walked away from Casita. There was no advice ofcourse it was just an act, and poor Camilo was so confused.

"Did you see that?? They didn't hugged me nor even GIVE ME A GOODBYE KISS?! AND what advice?" Camilo groaned and turned at his prima, but Mirabel just shrugged at him.

"There was someone in town that they just need advice but nah, you'll be fine" She said and patted her primo's shoulder.

Camilo was worried but he ignored the thought off, as maybe it wad just your friend or what but he can't help the fact that during that day you were ignoring him and he didn't even got seconds because of overthinking what he did wrong.

The week was almost over and Camilo was a mess, his eyes are a bit dark from lack of sleep. He looked weak because of having no seconds and the bubbly attitude that everyone would see in him, was just gone.

As soon as he saw you, he would get closer but you will ignore him and be with your friend, which he started to be jealous and mad of. But it was just always Mirabel disguised as someone and it works.

It was a torture for you too, but you need to do this for him to realize that sometimes pranks can go a little overboard and needs to stop. That's why you suddenly asked and talked to him, after a few days of didn't, to meet you in the bridge.

"AHH AMOR!!!" He suddenly asked as he flopped himself into you, unto which you catched him in no time noticing he really was feeling weak.

You guided him to sat into one the rocks as you stared at the water flowing below the bridge.

"Hey, is there something wrong? You were ignoring me these past few days..and I...I just missed you" He said pain visible in his voice, as you felt your heart sink at the thought of your lover being in vain.

"Camilo..I think.." You looked at him, which ALMOST made you drop your act because of the emptiness his eyes has knowing you weren't with him for the past days. "—we should...break up" You said whispering the last part but unluckily for him, he heard it.

He stood up in the rocks, as tears fell down in his eyes as he went back and forth.

"No, no this can't be happening. Why?!? This is so sudden?!! PLEASEE TELL ME THIS ISNT REAL!! I wanna wake up in this nightmare, Por favorrrrrrr" He said as he slightly tugged and messed his hair. He was a crying mess, you were about to calm him down and tried to tell him it was a break up prank but he suddenly walked away from you, no knowing where he would go as you started to lose him to your sight.

'mierda, where did he go?'

You went to Casita and find Dolores luckily she was also looking for you, as she heard the whole conversation and told you were Camilo is. You thanked her as you ran to where he was.

There you saw him on the river where Mirabel and Abuela made up before. He was crying as he shapeshifts into random people at a time, he was a mess which affects his gift.

You quickly went to him and hugged him so tight, he was shocked at first as he shapeshifted back before noticing it was you. By the moment, he saw that it was really you he hugged you back much more tightly, still having his eyes puffy at his crying earlier.

"You...you came back for me" He said hope visible in the emotions of his words and actions.

"Lo siento, amor. Ofcourse, I would never break up with you I told you I would die first if this would happen. Te amo tanto, my Camilo Madrigal, its just that I thought this would be a good revenge prank—

"A GOOD WHAT NOW?" He said pulling away from the hug loooking at you with a frown and ridiculous face, despite the puffiness in his eyes. You can't help but chuckle at his adorableness.

"Remember I'll habe my revenge on you, this was a break up prank I planned, Lo siento. And that friend I always hangout with that was Mirabel in disguise to look like someone else."

Camilo was astonished at the moment, just minutes ago he was crying over A PRANK? He had his mouth agaped and looked at you, with I dont know mixed thought. He thought this was cruel and ridiculous, it was too much for him but at the same time he was proud that you outsmart him with a prank.

"Aye, Dios Mío. NEVER EVER do that again. Gosh, if this is what I get I'LL NEVER DO BIG PRANKS AGAIN" He said as he groaned which made you smile and went up to him to pull him by his collar.

"Camilo Madrigal, you just got pranked~" You said and immediately kissed him as he kissed back.

~•~

You both entered the Casita noticing everyone was in the kitchen table so you joined them.

"Here, Milo. Have many seconds you look like a skeleton mi hijo" Julieta said which caused Mirabel to laugh as Luisa playfully nudged her.

"Your eyes looked like a puffer fish from the cries you did" Pepa said who is beside him, as she squish her son's cheeks and smiled.

"Wait what how?"

"Pretty much everyone here was part of the plan" Isabela teased as Camilo looked at you, who playfully refused to make eye contact with him just eating your food.

The whole dinner was spent on Dolores telling everyone what Camilo just ranted on the river, which ended up everyone chuckling or laughing at the story. Camilo could just hide his head on the table for every embarassment.

After that you decided to sleep at his room, as you are now both cuddled up together.

"I feel like being betrayed by everyone" He sulked as you laughed at him.

"Atleast you said no pranks anymore"

"Who said that? No lo hice. I just said no more BIG PRANKS because I don't want you to take revenge EVER" He said which made you laughed the whole time watching him sulk.

[xxlost-cityxx]

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Top!Kirishima Eijirou, Bottom!Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: camming(Bakugou's a camboy), rough anal sex, anal fingering, choking, spanking, begging, crying, overstimulation, praising, degrading, enthusiastic consent

Summary: Bakugou's famous for being in the top 3 best doms for a camboy porn site, but as he tries to out rank an up and rising couple, his fans get to see the moment he realises he's a submissive bottom

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

Katsuk has been a camboy for a little over 2 years now, starting right off the bat once he graduated high school. As he was 18 and living on his own and with a low paying job, he quickly realized he needed another source of income to live even slightly comfortably in today's world. Then came a random ad that just so happened to catch his eye, a porn site catching a lot of popularity, a few cam stars seeming to live a life of luxury from simply filming themselves for anyone to see. 

Katsuki had to try it out. 

He's had his fair share of horny old men groping him out in public, so why not get paid for them to watch him instead? 

That plan was one of his best ideas yet. He rose to fame so quickly he choked on water after posting his 4th video ever, seeing that his rough, aggressive attitude turned a lot of people on. A lot meant 14,000 at the time. A month into camming and he was making over 54,000 yen a week! And now, with nearly 500,000 perverts at his mercy, it was much more. He started live streaming last year, and it went amazing. Until a new couple joined the camming business. Suddenly 'loving boyfriend rails his curvy brown haired slut' was all anyone wanted to see. This broccoli headed bitch stole half the damn site from almost every other cammer out there! 

So there was only one thing Katsuki could do now. 

He had to fuck someone on one of his streams. 

He blew up the first time he fucked a flesh light, degrading the inanimate object like no tomorrow, easily being labeled one of the best doms out there. So the only way to get back on top was to dom a real person. 

But he wasn't going to fuck one of his weird ass fans, god no. He needed to find someone close to him who would keep their mouth shut. 

After brainstorming and browsing the most popular porn categories, he got an idea. The best way to narrow down his options for what type of person he'd need is by his audience. He quickly went to his profile insights, his eyes narrowing as over 60% were females. He quickly smirked, easily going back to the most popular categories and filtering out what he didn't want to do and what his audience wouldn't be into. And the one that came out ontop, was gay shit. Katsuki was going to dom a guy. And if it meant coming out on top over all the useless cammers, he'd fuck the shit out of a twink. 

"Sorry man, I would've considered it back when we first graduated, but Hitoshi and Kyo would rather stab you than let me take your dick up my ass." Denki said, casually sighing and taking a sip of his coffee. The elders around the coffee shop gasped, giving nasty side eyes which Katsuki couldn't care less about. "What!?" He nearly shouted, Sero and Mina covering their mouths to prevent any laughter from coming out to the point their faces were turning red. 

"Why not ask Sero-" "-Oh hell no! I'm not letting Katsudon fuck me on camera!" Sero shouted, ignoring Bakugou's glare from calling him Katsudon. 

"You really need to fuck a guy for this? Why not stick to your usual content? No.2 is better than much else, right?" "Hell no! I'm the best and I'm going to prove I'm the fuckin' best! Denki's the only twink I know, so help me find another!" Katsuki yelled, a few families being rushed out of the shop. 

After going through everyone that fit Bakugou's qualifications. They had nothing. Bakugou was ready to tear someone's head off at this point. After doing so much research, he didn't have the final piece. 

"Hey Mina, you're a chick. What do you suggest 'suki do?" Denki sighed, folding in on himself. "I mean, we do love our gay shit man." He said in an inhale. "But why not get fucked instead? We know way more doms than we do twinks." She said, tilting her head. "Oh- Hell no!" Bakugou shouted, Sero wincing. "I'm the best fuckin' dom on this shitting porno site and I'm going to prove it!" "Sounds like a bratty bottom to me." Sero mumbled. 

After more shouting and arguing. Kirishima finally arrived. "Sorry, my last client had a lot of knots in their back and thighs! Took a lot longer than I expected." He said with his happy smile, still wearing his scrubs and smelling like coconut oil. "Eiji~! Gimme a deep tissue massage!" Denki whined, rushing over and jumping face first into the bed. "He just gave massages all day dude, give him a break.." Sero mumbled, shaking his head. 

And it was like a light bulb. His brain flashing to massage porn intro's being in the top 100 categories. "Kirishim!" Bakugou shouted firmly, standing up straight. Kiri froze, slowly turning to look at him with fearful eyes. "Y-Yes…?" "Let me fuck you for my cam stream." And it went dead silent. 

And that's how they're here. Setting up the ring lights, almond oil on the shelves and a small white towel for Bakugou to cover his ass with. The plan was that Eijirou would get handsy during the massage and Katsuki would turn around and start domming him. Kirishima is bigger than Bakugou in the height and muscle department, but that was only going to make the plot better. Eijrou definitely wasn't telling him something. After hesitating to agree in the first place, and only after Bakugou promised a share of the money, Kirishima was just so...unnatural at this situation, his movements starting off as more dominating until he took it down to a submissive level.   

Katsuki started the live, giving his quickly joining fans a cocky smirk before standing up, walking back and laying down on the black table. 

The comments were filled with surprise and questions as to who the red haired hulk was beside the table, but they went unanswered. 

Kirishima grabbed the bottle of almond oil, pouring some into his hands and quickly starting on Katsuki's thighs, gently rubbing into the muscles with experienced ease. 

Bakugou's eyes widened at the feeling, his core already getting hot with desire. And as Kirishima's fingers went under the towel to his inner thighs, he fought a gasp. Comments filled with perverted comments telling the redhead to get more handsy and to give the blond a hand job with all the oil. 

But as Eijirou put a knee on the table and nearly climbed over Katsuki to perfectly get his back, Katsuki started panting at the feeling. It wasn't the massage that was getting him. It was the feeling of Eijirou's crotch rubbing against the thin towel, his cock slightly hard underneath his black scrubs. 

As it was about time for the script to move onto Katsuki domming Kirishima, Bakugou was stifling whimpers of shock and embarrassment. His cock aching for him to fuck Kirishima…..actually. His body was aching to be fucked by Kirishima. 

As Katsuki was turned around, His eyes were teary, his fans taking quick, shocked notice and flooding the comments with surprise, degrading, perverted insults about how he looked like a twink instead. 

Kirishima's eyes slightly widened at the sight, and as Bakugou swallowed his embarrassment and shock, he focused on his arousal and his own perverse desires. "F-Fuck me….instead.." He whispered, his eyes slightly squinting and blurring with tears. 

Before he knew it, Eijirou was leaning over top of him with a slick hand around his neck. Bakugou couldn't help but moan at the pressure, his stream struggling to keep up with the influx of viewers and comments about the top 3 best doms getting put in his place by a rando. 

Bakugou's mind wasn't on the donations anymore, not on the follower count or his ranking at this point. He was gasping for air as Kirishima roughly kissed and bit at his body, keeping an iron grip on Katsuki's neck. "Oh fuck yes- Was hoping to god I would be able to fuck your tight ass one day-!" Kirishima breathed against his skin, licking up his nipple to his jaw and nipping at him. 

He suddenly ripped himself off the blonde, walking over to the camera and grabbing it, making a winky face at the viewers as he moved the camera to get a better view of Bakugou teary eyed, flushed and a line of red, darkening hickies and bites. 

He got back on the table, roughly gripping Katsuki's thighs and harshly pushing them apart, an action that would probably make some other guy pull a muscle. He wrapped his arms around his spread thighs, pulling his hips up to meet his crotch, the pale skin against his dark black scrubs finally letting Bakugou and the viewers know what the newbie was packing, and it was a lot. 

"H-Holy fuck-" Bakugou whispered out as his towel was ripped off of him, oil being grabbed off the table and the cap popped open. Kirishima paused, looking up to Bakugou, a silent plea for last minute permission. Katsuki's red eyes met crimson, and he swiftly nodded his head, accidentally earning more donations from the show of submission. 

Eijirou lathered his fingers in oil, tracing the blond's pink hole carefully, giving the camera another adjustment so the viewers could see his perfect view as well; a red faced, teary eyed dom with his tight ass being slicked up so nicely. 

The oil made Katsuki's muscle relax easily, becoming soft under the thick tanned finger, and as he swiftly plunged in the singular finger, Katsuki gasped with shock, his eyes going wide at the foregin feeling. 

Kirishima slowly pumped his finger, adding slightly more oil every time his muscle got a bit too tight, slipping in more fingers every time his rim was soft. It felt like such a short amount of time between preparing to dom his best friend to being finger fucked by him. Eijirou's forearm had veins slightly protruding as he slammed his fingers into his friend at a pace that made vibrators look pathetic. Katsuki's pretty little back was arched so nicely, his muscles flexing and his toes curling, tears falling from his eyes as moan after moan was ripped from him. 

"P-Please! I can't! I can't take it anymore!" He finally sobbed, shaking his head at the man's brutal pace, purposely avoiding his prostate after hitting it every couple times. 

Kirishima smirked, slowly sliding his fingers out only to slide his thumbs inside, stretching the soft muscle as he pleased, showing off the blond's perfectly hot pink insides, his swollen rim slick and twitching. "So nice and pretty for me, hm? You wanna take my fat cock for the first time? Expose how much of a slut you are for cock? For my cock?" Kirishima said seductively, moving the camera again. 

Katsuki nodded his head rapidly, his eyes glued to the hard to see bulge under his black scrubs. "Use your words, baby." Eijirou said firmly, palming himself. "Y-Yes- I want it-! I w-want your fat cock-!" He said, face flushing with embarrassment again. "Good boy~" He cooed, finally grabbing the hem of his pants and pulling them down. 

It was almost like he struggled to pull the front down far enough, his cock just kept following, and once it finally got over his tip, his penis sprung up to lightly slap against his stomach before it weighed itself down. The camera got Bakugou's surprise and shock perfectly, the comments finally going quiet, almost as if everyone had to take in what they were seeing as well. 

Kirishima grabbed the base of his cock, lifting it and letting it slap against Bakugou's hole, earning a slightly muffled whimper from the blond. He gently moved his hips, letting his cock slide smoothly against his hole, his tip teasing the smaller's balls. The comments were filled with encouragement and orders to get on with it. 

Kirishima chuckled darkly, letting his tip catch on the rim, slowly pushing in. Bakugou's eyebrows furrowed before his mouth dropped and eyes widened with the pressure. He let out a guttural moan, his legs starting to shake. 

As Eijirou bottomed out with a groan, Katsuki was shaking and whimpering, his own well endowed cock red and dripping precome. 

The redhead pulled out before slamming back in, the blond shooting up with shock only to be met with a hand on his neck again, pinning him down as the Kirishima harshly forced his way between Bakugou's legs even more, only giving the blond a couple seconds to adjust before he started snapping his hips into the smaller man's ass. Bakugou took in one breath of air before lewd moans poured from him, his voice cracking every time his skin was slapped with another brutal thrust. 

"Agh- P-Please-!" Katsuki nearly screamed out, Eijirou grabbing the back of his knees and pressing them back to meet his shoulders, effectively putting him in a mating press. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you fucking want!" Eijirou growled out, groaning as Katsuki's tight, slicked up boy cunt tried to milk him, pulsing and sucking him in with every movement. "I-I want it harder! Please- Please fuck me harder! Give me more!" Bakugou nearly sobbed, looking at where their bodies were connected with teary wide eyes. "Such a fuckin' slut-! Making all these people think you were a fucking dom, only to start begging for the first fat cock you see! Want it harder? Wanna feel my fat dick in you for days?" He growled, eagerly moving to grab Katsuki's ankles and awkwardly spreading them over Katsuki's head before turning him, ripping his cock out of his pillowy ass and nearly picking the blond up by his ass, grabbing the nape of his neck and forcing him on his knees with his head down. 

He slammed back in, the blond nearly screaming once again as he set another brutal pace. "Y-Yes! Please, god yes! Fuck me more! Don't stop!" Katsuki sobbed, drool and tears staining his lewd face. "Wouldn't fucking dream of it! You love having your little boy cunt fucked, huh? Love how I fucking ruin you on this dick?" Kirishima growled, slapping a hand down on his fat ass, groaning loudly at the sight of all the excess muscle and fat jiggle even more. 

Katsuki's ass slapped against Eijirou's abs every time he slammed into the boy, his back muscles looking so pretty at this angle. 

"Oh shit- I'm gonna cum! Please make me cum! Don't fucking stop~!" Bakugou moaned, arching his back and lifting his ass up higher so Eijirou could hit his prostate at the best angle. "Haven't even touched your cock and you're gonna cum? Fucking do it! Cum on this cock, make it yours and I'll fuck you every day!" Kirishima promised, sharpening his thrusts to where all Bakugou could do is claw at the padded table and scream, staring into the camera as his orgasm was building higher and higher. 

"I- Fuck! I'm fucking cummin'!" Bakugou screamed, his body shaking under Kirishima as his thrusts went unbroken, hurtling Katsuki into overstimulation. He started screaming for relief, but as Kirishima planted his hands into the curvature of Bakugou's spine, he started thrusting purely for his own relief. Groaning and growling above a sobbing Katsuki. "S-Stop! I can't! Slow down~ Please!" Katsuki begged, his cock trying to harden again. His body was on fire, every nerve fried with pleasure he'd never experienced, and Katsuki knew he was addicted. 

"Almost fuckin' there! Gonna cum in your ass- Claim you, make you mine!" Eijirou groaned out, his balls drawing up tight as his own climax ripped through him, filling up the man's stomach with his cum. 

He slowly pulled out, Katsuki in the same position even after Eijirou let go of him. He grabbed the camera, pointing it at Bakugou's gaping and cum filled hole, watching how he pulsed against nothing, forcing the cum to leak out of him despite his angle. 

Not only did Katsuki make absolute bank while taking monster cock like a slut, he took the No.1 spot by over a thousand followers and ratings. 

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 12,601 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: pre-apocalypse Warnings: language (duh, it's me), violence, domestic violence A/N: This one got LONGGGGG woo! Protective, badass Daryl is just so. damn. good. Summary: Daryl has long had a crush on Y/N, a waitress at the local dive bar. When things start to go bad with her boyfriend, he suddenly finds himself solving problems for her.

Your name: submit What is this?

Your friend nudged you gently with her elbow as you started to move past her with your tray. “Hey. Who’s that?” she asked, nudging her head in the direction of the door. Two men had just walked in. They were regulars at the bar where you’d been a waitress for a long time. Your friend, however, had just started working there a couple days earlier.

“Oh, the Dixon brothers,” you said, skirting past her to load your tray up with the next round of drinks.

“Are they trouble?” she asked, giving you a sideways glance. You had to laugh at that question. The bar you worked at was a total dive and most of the clientele were unsavory characters. It was frequented by a lot of the biker gangs that road the highway causing trouble.

“Everyone in here pretty much is trouble,” you said, loading the row of beers on the bar top onto your tray.

“Even Mark,” she said, her tone dripping sweet because she knew it would annoy you. You rolled your eyes.

“Even Mark,” you agreed. You’d met your boyfriend at the bar while you were working. You hadn’t been dating that long, only about 3 months. He was a member of one of the biker gangs, but you’d grown up around people like him and the rest of the bar patrons your whole life. You were used to the whistles and catcalling and even the occasional ass-grabbery. Most of the time you felt perfectly safe at work with Charlie, the bartender, watching over things and quite frankly, most of the men tipped you generously. You just chose not to think about where they got the money. You didn’t come from any money at all, and you’d gotten a job as soon as you legally could to help your mom pay the bills. She had already been working two full-time jobs trying to keep your family afloat. Even before you’d been able to work officially you took every babysitting or lawn mowing gig you could find. Your dad was a good man, kind and loving, but an alcoholic. He’d had a work accident when you were just a baby and had chronic back pain from it. He was still young when he finally succumbed to his alcoholism.

And you’d just kept working.

“Well, that younger brother is cute,” your friend said, drawing your attention back to the two men who’d just walked in. “What’re their names?”

“Gimme a minute and I’ll introduce you,” you said. You rounded the bar and took the beers on your loaded tray over to a table of boisterous bikers and handed them out. By the time you got back up to the bar, the Dixon brothers had wandered over.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” Merle grinned at you, leaning his forearms on the bar. “Whatchu doin’ lookin’ that good up in here? You lookin’ to start a fight?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at him. “Merle, you can knock off the sweet talkin’. It’s not gonna get you free booze.”

“Who said I even come in here for the booze?” he flirted shamelessly, shooting a wink at you. This time you did laugh appreciatively.

“Uh huh. Well, since you’re at the bar and not in my section, I can get away with ignoring you all night,” you joked. “Charlie will be glad to take your order.” You glanced at the younger Dixon brother who seemed to be quite purposefully keeping his eyes on his hands as he fiddled with a discarded beer top. “How are you, Daryl?” His blue eyes shot up to meet yours. “Doin’ alright?”

Daryl nervously licked his lips and nudged his nose up in a single nod. His heart was hammering away in his chest.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, giving him a wide smile. Daryl’s heart jumped. Fuck. He always felt completely out of control when you smiled at him like that. Half the time it shut down his ability to engage in any sort of conversation and seemed to make his body start malfunctioning. “Well, listen boys. This is my friend Rachel. She just started workin’ here a couple days ago so I expect you to go easy on her.” Rachel smiled at them and said hello. “This is Merle Dixon and his brother Daryl.” You caught sight of one of your tables trying to flag you down. “Merle is the one you need to watch out for. He’ll try his hardest to charm you right out of your skirt, even if it never works,” you joked. “Right, Daryl?”

The younger Dixon brother hardly responded, except that his blue eyes flickered up to your face again for a moment before you breezed away. He looked up again as Charlie wandered over and asked what the Dixons wanted to drink. But Rachel cut in with a smile.

“You’re busy, Charlie. I’ll get it,” she said. She was eyeing Daryl and he felt it, glancing up at her. She was definitely attractive and definitely interested in him from what he could tell, but Daryl was so hung up on you he couldn’t have cared less. “What can I get you?” Rachel asked, leaning on the bar top, giving him a small smile.

“Gimme a bourbon, honey,” Merle said. Daryl hadn’t responded. His eyes had wandered back over to you where you were chatting with a couple regulars in a booth nearby. Merle hit him on the arm.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl drawled, pulling his eyes off you.

The way the younger Dixon brother’s gaze was fixed on you wasn’t lost on Rachel. “Sure thing,” she said, setting about grabbing the drinks. She handed them out. “So, what kind of trouble do the two of you get up to?” Rachel asked. The question was directed at Daryl but he was staring down into his beer, apparently in deep thought about something, so Merle answered instead.

“Any and every kind,” Merle laughed.

Daryl’s eyes were on you again, flickering between glancing your way, watching you smiling and laughing, and staring back down into his beer. Rachel gave the two one final smile and parting look and rushed back over to her section where someone was flagging her down. Scribbling a few notes on her pad about the order, she happened to fall back into stride with you as you both headed up toward the bar area again. You had a break for a couple minutes and hung out by the window where the cooks sent the food out.

Rachel leaned up against the counter. “I think Daryl is taken,” she said.

You gave her a questioning look. “Really? Why? I’ve never seen him in here with anyone but his brother.”

Rachel laughed. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” You stared at her, puzzled, and she rolled her eyes at you. “Y/N, he can’t keep his eyes off you. I was trying to flirt with him and he barely looked at me.”

“What? No, come on,” you laughed. “They’ve hung around here for years and he’s never said anything. I mean, I was single for a long time.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! I saw the way he was looking at you,” Rachel said. “He seems a bit shy or something. It’s not a surprise he hasn’t said anything to you about it. And besides, now you’re dating someone.”

You shrugged. “Well, he’s—he’s just a bit quiet. I don’t think—”

Rachel turned as the cook slid out the food for one of her orders. “I’m telling you he’s got it for you. Bad.” She lifted her tray. “You’re in denial. Like you usually are when someone likes you,” she laughed. “Just trust me on this.”

As Rachel breezed away, you glanced back at the two Dixon brothers at the bar. Daryl was aimlessly spinning his beer glass in his hands, staring down at it, but a moment later he glanced up and his blue eyes caught yours. He seemed a bit startled that you were looking his way, and you offered up a small smile. Daryl gulped and ducked his head. A jolt of electricity ran through him again. Fuck. Now she’s dating someone, dumbass. Give it up. She doesn’t want you.

The rest of your shift was busy and there wasn’t much time to sit around and chat. Around dinnertime was usually when the most customers rolled in for a greasy pub meal and some alcohol to lubricate their boasting. Then the dinner crowd hung around and became increasingly more intoxicated. It was about nine when your shift was up and you pulled your apron off and stowed it behind the bar. Merle was playing pool but Daryl was still just leaned up to the counter, keeping to himself. You were about to engage him in some small talk when the door pushed open and your boyfriend walked in. He immediately spotted you and gave you a nod and a smile. You grinned back at him, grabbing your purse from underneath the bar. “Hey, I’ll see you later, Daryl!” you said brightly.

He nodded and managed to give you a small smile, really just one twitch up of one corner of his mouth. His eyes followed you through the bar and he watched over his shoulder as your boyfriend’s hands landed on your lower back and you arched up onto your toes to kiss him. Daryl felt a swell of jealousy in his chest and a hard pit form in his stomach. But he simply turned away and raised a finger to Charlie and asked for another beer.

Your boyfriend Mark walked you out into the parking lot and you stopped next to his bike. “Hop on. Let’s go home,” he said.

“I’m starving. I thought we were going to grab something to eat?” you asked.

“No, come on. Let’s go home,” he said.

You thought there was something a bit different in his tone but you brushed it off. He’d been riding all day. He was probably just ready to be done and wanted to relax. But a couple minutes later, you could tell something was definitely wrong. He was speeding far faster than he should be through town, especially with you behind him. You held tighter to him and leaned forward. “Babe, slow down a bit,” you said.

He didn’t. He took a turn fast and your stomach flipped at the feeling. “Seriously! What the hell are you doing? Slow down!” you yelled over the rumbling of his bike’s engine.

He still didn’t. It was like he was getting a kick out of your fear. If anything, his speed increased. Every turn he took you felt like the bike was about to skid out. You were getting pissed. “Slow the fuck down!” you demanded.

This time he did. But soon he turned into a parking lot and stopped completely. You released your hold on him and he climbed off. A second later he had a hold of your upper arm with a grip like a vice. “Ow!” you protested as he hauled you off his bike. You almost fell as he tugged, losing your balance as you lifted your leg over the bike. “What the fuck?!” you snapped at him, ripping your arm away and staring at him in disbelief.

“If you don’t like how I drive my own goddamn bike, you can fuckin’ walk home,” he growled angrily at you. He was glaring at you with some serious rage in his eyes.

Who the hell was this person? And where was the boyfriend you knew? That’s when you realized. You stared at him, your jaw dropping partially open. “Mark… are you—did you start using again?”

He stared defiantly back at you. “I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.”

That was a confirmation if anything. You felt another swell of anger. He’d had substance abuse problems before you’d met but he’d assured you he was clean and was planning on staying that way. “Actually, I think it is my business,” you retorted.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. He marched over to his bike and opened the saddle bag, grabbing your purse out and tossing it to the asphalt carelessly. The contents spilled out and rolled on the ground. “Fuckin’ walk it off,” he said, hopping back on his bike and starting it again. You stared in disbelief as he roared away from you.

“Shit! What the hell?!” you yelled as the sound of his bike roared away. You sighed heavily and stared down at the items that had spilled out of your bag, crouching to collect them and stuff them back where they belonged. You straightened up and glanced around at the secluded and dark lot and deserted street. You could walk home, but it would take you a while and you didn’t particularly like the thought of being out where you were alone. You felt vulnerable, like you’d be the perfect prey for some passing scumbag. You hugged your arms across yourself and decided to walk to the nearest gas station and see if you could call someone to give you a ride. Your mind was spinning over what had just happened. He’s using again. Fucking great. You’d have to end it. That was that. After your dad, you steered clear of anyone with a substance abuse problem, and the personality change in Mark was already so apparent and immediate you knew things would, in all likelihood, just get worse.

You walked along the dark sidewalk, just hoping no one would come along and mess with you. It was only a few blocks to the nearest gas station and you fixed your mind on just getting there. You looked over your shoulder as you heard engines approaching and groaned internally. Please just let them ride past. But you could tell immediately that they were slowing. You kept your head down and just kept walking until you heard voices yelling back and forth over the rumble. Glancing over again you saw that it was Merle and Daryl Dixon.

Merle gave you one final parting glance and roared off but Daryl pulled alongside you at the curb and shut off his bike.

“Hey. Are ya okay?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

You glanced at the earnest expression on his face. His blue eyes were slightly narrowed as he peered at you and his brow was drawn down. You nodded. “I’m fine,” you said. But your tone didn’t even convince you.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here at night on your own. Thought ya were with yer guy,” he said, a slight question in his tone.

You shuffled your feet a little anxiously. “I was but—” you shook your head. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna walk to the gas station and see if I can call someone for a ride,” you said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Mmm.” Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment. “I can give ya a ride. I ain’t got anywhere to be.”

You considered him thoughtfully for a moment. You had the overwhelming sense that you could trust him, and maybe it was the openness of his expression or the genuine tone of his voice. Normally you would have bucked at the idea of someone you didn’t know very well learning where you lived, but you’d known Daryl for years. At least, known him on some level. He never started trouble in the bar, although he often got sucked into it because of Merle. A lot of times Daryl was one of the few trying to break it up when it happened. Mostly it just seemed like he hung around with Merle for lack of something else to do. And, sure, sometimes he drank too much and he could be a little hotheaded, but you always had the sense from his rugged but quiet exterior that underneath he was sweet. He chatted with you shyly, asking questions about how you were and your life, but he never pried and he never acted inappropriately toward you or any of the other staff. Daryl Dixon had never once grabbed your ass and that was more than you could say for most of the regulars… Finally, after some consideration, you nodded. “Okay. That’d be great. Thanks,” you said.

He nodded, nudging his nose up. “Hop on.” His heart jumped as you accepted his offered hand for assistance and slid in behind him. It jumped again when he felt your arms lightly loop around him. “Where to?” You explained the route to your house and the bike roared to life underneath you. You held on a little more tightly as he pulled away from the curb.

Your mind was whirring over what you needed to do about Mark. You knew you wanted to end it but you had just witnessed how unstable he was at the moment. Lost in your head, it seemed like mere seconds when Daryl started to slow and you looked up and realized you were already home. The lights were on inside and Mark’s motorcycle was parked in the driveway. Daryl shut his bike off and you climbed off, straightening up at the curb and glancing at him. “Thank you. Really,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it.”

His blue eyes were soft on your face and one corner of his mouth twitched up as he nodded again. “S’nothin’. Anytime.” His eyes drifted over to the motorcycle in the driveway and that little smile faded. His brow furrowed as he glanced back at you. “Ya sure you’re alright?” He sensed there was something going on. Afterall, he’d seen you leave with Mark and yet there you’d been, abandoned on the side of the road…

You gulped. Your heart started racing. You hesitated for a moment. “Um… Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks again, Daryl.”

He had an uneasy feeling but what could he do? It’s not like he could invite himself to hang around. He chewed his bottom lip anxiously for a moment and then nodded. “Alright. I’ll see ya around,” he said, starting his bike up again. He watched you turn and walk up the drive and front walkway. At the top step you glanced back at him and waved. He nodded and revved the engine as you slipped inside.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Daryl made it back to the shitty motel he and Merle were calling home at the moment, paid for with stolen credit cards and hustled pool money, Merle was kicked back on his bed getting high. Marijuana smoke was thick in the air.

“Oh, you’re back quick, baby brother,” he smirked. “You must be a two thrust and done kind of guy,” he said with a laugh and a goading smile.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Merle,” he growled, not in the mood for his brother’s bullshit. He pulled his leather jacket off and tossed it down on the chair in the corner before flopping down on his own bed.

“You tellin’ me you didn’t bed that girl?” Merle said, sitting up. “You’ve been pining after that pretty little ass of hers for years. Why the hell did you offer to drive her home if you weren’t gonna fuck her? What the hell was in it for you?” Daryl’s jaw clenched and he glared at his older brother.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit, sometimes, ya know that? Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?” Daryl spat back at him. He flopped down on his pillow and turned his back on his brother. He could hear Merle laughing to himself again and then the volume on the TV clicked up. Daryl was glad to fall asleep, admittedly thinking about how you smelled a little like lavender and vanilla and remembering the feeling of your arms around his waist.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day, Daryl and Merle were back in the bar at the usual time. Your friend Rachel was behind the counter loading her tray with drinks, but as Daryl scanned the room for you there was no sign of you. Maybe you were on a break. He grabbed his usual spot at the bar and Merle was already sweet-talking Rachel again.

Daryl flagged down Charlie and ordered a bourbon. “Hey. Y/N on break?” he asked, hoping it sounded casual.

Charlie shook his head, grabbing a bottle and pouring Daryl’s drink. “No. She called in sick today,” he said with surprise. Daryl’s brow immediately furrowed.

“Sick?” he repeated. Charlie nodded and let out a laugh.

“I know. I think it’s the first time since she’s worked here,” he said. “Except the food poisoning incident a few years back,” he added with a laugh. “But, hell, we were all sick after that.”

Daryl nodded and mumbled a thanks accepting the drink from him. He couldn’t remember ever coming in and you not being there on a day you usually worked. He felt that hard pit form in his stomach again. The night before had seemed off to him in the first place. Seeing you walking alone along the road in the dark like that… What the hell? He knew the kind of people who moved through this little shit town. That wasn’t fucking safe. Your fucking boyfriend had been with you. Why had you been alone? And the way you’d answered him when he’d pressed you to make sure you were alright… you’d hesitated. Daryl downed his bourbon in one big gulp and flagged the bartender down again.

And now you weren’t in today. Your boyfriend’s bike had been in the driveway. He anxiously chewed on the side of his thumbnail. Maybe you really were just sick. But he had a feeling you weren’t. What the hell are you gonna do? Show up at her damn house like a fuckin’ stalker?. Daryl knew there wasn’t anything he could do and he hated that.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day Merle was sleeping off a bender so Daryl rode over to the bar alone. He didn’t even want a damn drink. He just wanted to know that you were okay. That annoying pit was still in his stomach. It was still early when he came in so things were slow and there were only a couple townies nursing beers in the corner. He sidled up to his usual spot at the bar. First glance around the room revealed you were conspicuously absent.

“Daryl. What can I get you?” Charlie asked, wiping down the bar top purely out of boredom.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl said, tossing a few bucks down. “Shit. Hold that for a minute. I gotta take a leak,” he drawled. He headed down the hallway that led to the restrooms and took a piss, deciding he needed a fucking smoke before he went back for his drink. He was trying to ignore the anxiety swirling in his stomach that you weren’t at work again. He pushed through the back door, digging in his pocket for his lighter, but he glanced up when he sensed someone standing nearby. “Hey,” he said, realizing it was you. You were leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between your fingers. You seemed almost to shrink away when he noticed you. “I didn’t know ya smoked,” he said surprised.

You exhaled, your knee bouncing a little anxiously. “I don’t. Usually.” Your body language was closed off, entirely unlike you.

As Daryl looked at you his unease grew and was quickly replaced with the seeds of anger. You had sunglasses on and it seemed like you were purposely trying to keep your face turned slightly away from him. His eyes landed on a bruise on your upper arm and he stepped toward you, eyes narrowed. “Ya weren’t sick yesterday,” he said. He could clearly see individual finger marks bruised into your arm.

You kept your eyes turned down toward the pavement and took another drag on your cigarette. You could feel Daryl’s strikingly blue eyes scrutinizing you now. What the hell could you say?

He moved slowly, like he was worried he would startle you, but soon he was in front of you and you couldn’t avoid his eyes any longer. There was a split in your lip and it was a bit bruised and puffy. That seed of anger in Daryl’s chest burst into a flame. “What happened?”

You pulled your eyes away from his, grateful that they were still hidden behind your sunglasses because you could feel humiliated tears burning in them. “I’m fine.”

Daryl wanted nothing more at that moment than to lift your chin and look you over, put his hands on you gently the only way someone should. But he stopped himself and sighed and shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside you and finally lighting his cigarette, casting sideways glances in your direction. “He put his fuckin’ hands on ya,” he said softly. There was a growl in his voice.

You gulped.

“What the hell happened?” he pressed again. “I knew somethin’ was off when I dropped ya off. I could fuckin’ feel it. I shoulda—”

“No, you did plenty,” you said, straightening up. “It’s not your problem.” You finally lifted your sunglasses and put them up on your head, turning to look at Daryl. Now he could see the swollen puffiness and bruising around your eye and cheekbone. He thought there was a shadow of a bruise over the bridge of your nose too. You’d clearly tried to lessen the appearance with makeup but it was still very obvious in the bright sunlight.

Daryl felt another burning wave of rage. “He done this to ya before?” he asked. Now he was wondering how many days you’d been at work with fresh bruises hidden beneath your clothes. If he had known—

You shook your head. “No. No… He—he started using again.” You sighed and leaned your back against the wall. “He was driving all crazy when we left the other night and we had a fight about it and he threw me off his bike and left me there. That’s why I was walking out there alone when you spotted me. I knew he’d started using immediately. I’d never seen him like. He was like a different person.” You ground the butt of your cigarette out against the brick wall and tossed the it into the dumpster a few paces away. “After you dropped me off I confronted him about it. I told him I didn’t want him around me or in my house. He denied it and then got angry… I—I just got out of there and ran to my neighbor’s and she called the cops.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to look at Daryl. You felt humiliated and ashamed of the whole thing. “They arrested him,” you said, scuffing a shoe on the ground. “So, that’s that.”

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” Daryl drawled. “I wouldn’ta left ya there if I’d known—”

You let out a wry laugh and caught his blue eyes. “Yeah, well… I wouldn’t have had you leave me there if I’d known. But there was no way to know he was going to hit me and—” The sight of the bruises on your face sent a jolt of anger through Daryl every time he looked at them.

“Ya don’t deserve that. ‘M real sorry ya went through it,” he said again.

There was a softness and heavy regret in his voice and it caused your eyes to flicker up to meet his again. You nodded. “Thanks.”

“So, the prick is in jail?” Daryl asked. You nodded. “Good,” he said, tossing his cigarette down and grinding it under his boot. “And he best be glad for it ‘cuz if I see him around here I’mma kick his ass.”

You shook your head at him, a questioning look on your face.

“What?” he prompted.

Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe Daryl Dixon was taken. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Probably should get back,” you said. Daryl pulled the door open for you and you both breezed back inside.

Things returned to normal for a few days after that. Same old regulars, same old drinks, life went on. But since Daryl’s obvious care and concern for you and Rachel’s comments you were suddenly noticing how you seemed to blush so easily around him… And every time you caught his blue eyes your heart jumped a little in your chest. Maybe it had always been that way and you were just allowing yourself to notice it. You’d always thought he was sweet and handsome, but nothing beyond that had been on your radar. Now that you were tuned in you seemed to be picking up on frequencies you hadn’t registered before.

One day you rushed into the bar, running late and obviously a bit harried. Charlie shot you a look as you tied your apron on. “I know! I know… I’m sorry,” you told him. “My car is on the fritz. It keeps overheating and—anyway, I’m sorry. I’m here,” you finished, grabbing your order pad and a pen.

Merle and Daryl were sitting in their usual places at the bar and you could feel the younger Dixon’s bright blue eyes on you. “Hey—I—I can take a look at it if ya want,” Daryl drawled, looking a little abashed that he was offering.

“Really?” you asked, perking up immediately. “That would be—amazing. Honestly, I can’t spare the cash at the moment to take it to a shop and—”

“‘S’no problem,” Daryl said, spinning his beer glass in his hand and ducking his head again. “Ya just say when.” You grinned widely at him and his heart fluttered.

“Thank you so much. Um, do you have any time tomorrow afternoon? I’m off work.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Sure.”

“Great. Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

Merle watched the exchange with some interest and then got that usual cocky smirk on his face. “Well, why don’t I come by too? While my baby brother services your car, I can help service somethin’ else,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip. He chuckled at the sassy and disapproving look on your face in response.

“Keep dreaming, Merle,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh, I will, darlin’.”

The bar was busy that night, but you still found yourself talking with Daryl whenever you had a spare moment. He seemed to be a little less shy the more you spoke, and you found yourself smiling and laughing more than you could remember in a long time. And it was becoming very difficult to ignore those pesky butterflies in your stomach and that warmth in the apples of your cheeks as you talked with the handsome biker and caught his blue eyes.

That night you had trouble sleeping, and as you tossed and turned you couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl and were finding yourself anxious with anticipation for the next afternoon when he said he’d come by. He’s just being nice. Don’t read into it. You had this nasty habit of talking yourself out of thinking anyone was interested in you. Rachel was good at calling you out on it. You subconsciously bit your bottom lip and rolled to your other side. But maybe he really was interested in you… You were realizing you were definitely interested in him.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The sound of a motorcycle rumbling up in front of your house and then going quiet brought you to the front window. You peeked out and saw Daryl climbing off his bike. Your heart jumped.

He watched you breeze out onto the front walk and the smile you were giving him was intoxicating. You shoved your hands into your back pockets a little nervously and met him on the driveway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, shifting his weight anxiously from one hip to the other. You were just in jeans and a t-shirt but Daryl still thought you were the most beautiful goddamn thing he’d ever seen. “This the problem car?” he asked, jutting a finger the direction of your car.

You nodded. “Yep. I swear I can’t go two blocks without the damn thing overheating,” you explained.

“Hmm,” he hummed, walking around to the front end. “Pop the hood,” he murmured. You walked around and opened the driver’s side door and pulled the hood latch. Daryl lifted it and was immediately bent over the engine, already peering at this part and wiggling that. You came around to stand beside him and Daryl was finding it hard not to glance over at you.

“Thanks again for doing this,” you said. “You really didn’t need to offer.”

Daryl shrugged. “‘S’nothin. Can’t have ya breakin’ down. That ain’t safe,” he said.

You felt a rush of heat in your chest at his protectiveness. “Well, can I at least get you a beer or something while I totally take advantage of your free labor?”

Daryl turned and one corner of his mouth twitched up. Ugh. Your heart jumped at that boyish smile. “It’s yer day off. Don’t ya think ya’ve brought me enough drinks over the years? We ain’t at the bar.”

You laughed lightly and shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s literally the least I can do.”

“Ya gonna have one? I ain’t a fan of drinkin’ alone,” he drawled. You nodded. “Alright. Sure.”

“Great,” you smiled. “I’ll be right back.” When you came back with two cold beers in hand, Daryl was leaning over the engine compartment in deep concentration. You allowed yourself to notice his broad shoulders and strong, toned arms and found yourself subconsciously biting your bottom lip again… Your face flushed. You practically needed to shake yourself out of it. “Here,” you said, offering him one of the beers.

He straightened up and accepted it with a nod. “Thanks.”

You leaned over the engine and peered down at what looked to you like an unknowable mass of metal. “Any luck yet?”

He took a swig of his beer and shrugged. “Well, your radiator seems fine. Coolant level is good, no signs of a leak. Might be a bad water pump. Or could be a few other things I’ll check.”

“I’m just hoping for something cheap and easy to fix,” you said with a laugh.

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched up again. He loved your laugh. He never got tired of hearing it. “Ya, I got my fingers crossed for ya too.”

“So, how’d you learn all this stuff? Your dad teach you or something?” you asked curiously.

“Nah. My old man pretty much only ever taught me what not to do,” he muttered, leaning on the edge of the engine compartment and ducking his head a bit.

You felt your heart sink. You sensed something vulnerable there, something painful. “Mmm. I see. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

Daryl’s eyes immediately shot up to your face. “Nah, ya didn’t pry. S’alright.” His blue eyes were still fixed on your face and Daryl let himself drink in the sight of you in this new context. It felt so comfortable, so natural just talking with you, even when he neared things he never revealed to anyone. He wasn’t used to that, but he could get used to it. “Nah, I taught myself. Mostly trial and error. There’ve been times I’ve had a whole lotta nothin’ to do so,” he shrugged.

You nodded, your eyebrows lifting. “I’m impressed,” you said.

He shyly ducked his head again, hoping you wouldn’t see a red flush in his ears and cheeks as he felt them grow warm. “Pfft. It takes that little to impress ya?” he joked.

“No! Come on! Give yourself some credit! I mean it! I have absolutely no mechanical mind at all. As far as I’m concerned, an engine is a magic device that runs on belief,” you laughed shaking your head.

“Nah, c’mon. It ain’t that complicated. The engine just converts energy from the burning gasoline into work. That’s what turns the wheels. You’ve got the cylinders, right? See, your car here is a 4 cylinder. There’s a piston inside each of those cylinders that moves up and down and it’s connected with a rod to the crankshaft and that’s what turns the driveshaft which makes the wheels go. The pistons move down when oxygen and fuel are mixed and ignited. Cuz the gases expand, right?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment before a wide smile grew on your face and you laughed. “Listen, I understood everything you just said in principal but—” you shrugged vaguely, “if you asked me to explain it back in two minutes it’d already be out of my brain. Just let me be impressed with you,” you said.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, an amused look on his face. You thought maybe his cheeks were even a little pink as he took a swig out of his beer and turned back toward your car. “Alrigh’. I’ll try,” he said. “Ain’t used to nobody being impressed with my dumb ass.”

“Hey! Dumb ass should never be applied to you!” you argued, giving him a stern look.

“Mmm.” He ducked his head again and tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at your words. “Your house, your rules, I guess,” he drawled.

You leaned over the engine next to him again. “That’s right. Now please fix my damn car,” you said with a laugh.

And Daryl did just that. By the time he was wiping his hands on a red rag that had been dangling out of his back pocket and putting the tools away, you were shocked to see that the afternoon was gone and it was now officially evening. You’d stayed on the driveway with him the whole time, talking easily about everything and nothing at all, not noticing how the hours slid by. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this,” you said as he shut the hood. The handsome biker shrugged.

“Ya don’t need to. S’nothin’.”

You sighed and gave him a look, shaking your head. “You really are way too modest.” Daryl ducked his head shyly and shrugged again. “Well, it’s getting late. Um, did you want to stay for dinner? I was gonna cook something.”

He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed it anxiously for a minute, hardly believing you’d just offered that. He wanted to say yes, but part of him talked back. She’s just bein’ nice. She feels obligated… “Nah, thas alright. Ya probably are sick of me by now,” he said finally.

You shook your head again. “Except I’m really not, Daryl.”

His eyes snapped over to your face and he hesitated again but his nerves got the best of him. “Nah, thanks but—I should go. Gotta check up on Merle, ya know?”

You nodded but couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “Sure. Okay. Well, hey, raincheck then. You can come over some other time. I’m a good cook,” you said. “I mean, when is the last time you had a homecooked meal?”

“Uhh—” He tried to remember if he’d ever had one…

“That’s too long,” you said. “You just say when and we’ll make it happen.” You gulped and touched him lightly on the arm. His blue eyes left your face and flickered down to the point of contact between the two of you. It was electrifying and when your fingers slipped from him, he really wished they wouldn’t. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Daryl, thanks again. I really mean it. Now I won’t piss Charlie off tomorrow. I’ll actually be on time again.”

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll see ya,” he said, gathering the small bag of tools he’d brought over.

You grinned at him and felt your cheeks color. “I hope so,” you said. He gave you a somewhat baffled look and shyly murmured another goodbye. You watched as he climbed on his bike and sped away. The last thing you caught sight of were the angel wings on the back of his jacket and you thought of how wonderfully fitting that was. Even if Rachel was wrong and Daryl wasn’t taken with you, you were starting to realize you were now completely taken with him. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it before.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day at work started off insanely busy. Customers seemed to be coming in earlier than usual and you were slammed far sooner than you expected with food and drink orders. But after an initial rush, things slowed way down, and that was about the time that the Dixon brothers wandered in and took their usual seats at the bar.

Daryl looked for you immediately out of habit as he walked in and was surprised to meet your eyes which were already on him. You broke into a small smile and Daryl’s heart jumped. As soon as you could, you came over to say hello.

“Hi,” you said with an even wider grin, leaning on the bar top.

“Hey,” Daryl returned.

Merle was looking between the two of you, noting the smiles and intense eye contact. He laughed. “You two do more than fixin’ a car yesterday or what? Huh?” He nudged his elbow into Daryl hard, whose jaw clenched. The younger Dixon gave his older brother a look which could properly be described as a death glare.

“Shut the fuck up, Merle,” Daryl growled.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you said to Merle, straightening up, shooting him a smirk.

“Ahh, come on. I’m just teasing you. I know my baby brother ain’t really man enough to—”

“You know, I think I know what you were about to say and I’m gonna tell you I have a very hard time believing that to be true,” you interrupted, leaning toward Merle over the counter, your voice taking on a tone that was soft but dangerous. “I think you might need to reevaluate who the real man is between the two of you.” You straightened up and shot Daryl a warm look that made his throat constrict. “Be nice,” you scolded Merle, “or I’ll ignore you for good. You’ll be stuck listening to nothing but Charlie’s same stupid jokes.”

Daryl watched in disbelief as you breezed away across the bar and he tried to gulp at the tightness in his throat.

Merle was staring after you too, obviously looking you up and down, and he let out a low whistle. “She’s way too good for you, little brother.”

Daryl nervously ran his tongue over his bottom lip and simply let out a hum of acknowledgement. Don’t I fucking know it.

Since things were so slow, you had plenty of time to chat with Daryl at the bar. Merle eventually wandered away to play some noisy rounds of pool with some fellow bikers and you were glad for his absence. Daryl was so much more relaxed without his brother sitting beside him and making snide or sarcastic comments…

“How are ya doin’?” Daryl asked pointedly. “I mean since… ya know, that night. Ya gotta go to court?”

You avoided his eyes now, feeling that same wave of shame cresting again as you thought about your asshole of an ex-boyfriend and what he’d done to you. “Not sure yet,” you said. “I think the lawyers are still doing their legal maneuvering. Depends on if he pleads guilty or not.”

Daryl felt suddenly anxious about broaching such a sensitive topic with you. Yeah, that’s what she wants to think about, dumbass. “‘M sorry. I shouldn’ta asked. Ain’t none of my business,” he said urgently.

“No! No, it’s okay! I, umm, I appreciate it actually… It’s—I’m okay,” you said. “I feel safe knowing he’s in jail.”

“Mm,” Daryl agreed with a nod. “They get… evidence? He gonna stay there ya think?” He was seized by a sudden and unexplainable intense worry. He knew plenty of asshole men like your ex and most of them didn’t give up easily and they didn’t take any perceived slight lying down.

“Well, I had to go to the police station afterwards and give a statement. They took pictures of everything. And I went to the hospital, so they have the reports…” You trailed off for a moment. “They got statements from my neighbor who called 9-1-1.”

Daryl nodded. “If ya ever need anything, ya just gotta ask,” he said seriously.

He watched the worry on your face soften as you nodded. “Thanks, Daryl.” God, he loved the sound of his name leaving your lips.

Your shift was over and you gathered up your purse from the back and dropped off your apron and order pad behind the bar, saying goodbye to Charlie. Daryl was still sitting up at the bar and Merle was playing pool, so you were glad to have a brief exchange with the handsome biker again without his obnoxious older brother around. “Well, I’m exhausted,” you said. “At least I can go out to my car and know it’ll get me home without a problem now.”

Daryl nodded. “Can’t have ya broken down somewhere this time of night. ‘Specially by yourself.”

“Right. Well, I’ll see ya, Daryl. And I mean it about that homecooked meal!” you said with a smile.

He nudged his nose up in a nod and watched you disappear through the door into the parking lot. He raised a finger to the bartender. “Gimme a double whiskey.”

Charlie was just sliding the drink over when Daryl thought he heard something from the direction of the door and he spun on his stool. It looked like someone had partially opened it, but nobody came in and nobody had gone out and the door slammed closed. He stared at it intensely for a moment, unsure why the hairs on the back of his neck were suddenly standing on end. Probably just the wind or something…

It was just then that he heard a scream from outside in the parking lot and Daryl was immediately on his feet and out the door. He saw red as he took in the scene. Your fucking douchebag, abusive ex was trying to force you into a car and you were struggling with him, fighting as hard as you could. Your purse was on the ground beside your vehicle a distance away and Daryl could see drag marks in the gravel where he’d obviously surprised you and dragged you away. He had a firm grip on your upper arm and with the other hand had a fistful of your hair. You were struggling with everything you had, yelling and fighting, but he was a lot bigger than you. It was a battle you would have lost, despite your tenacity.

But Daryl was a blur of action. Rushing him, he swung a fist and punched him hard across the face. You fell hard to the ground as his grip on you disappeared completely. You scrambled up and out of the way as best you could, but you were dazed and having trouble breathing through your panic. You suddenly realized that there were terrified tears pouring down your face. You were trembling.

Daryl was pulling Mark up by the front of his jacket and slammed his fist into his face again. Your ex dropped to the ground hard. He was still on the ground when he kicked Daryl in the shin, knocking him off balance. Daryl landed on his back in the dirt. “Mark, stop!” you screamed. You watched in horror as Mark pulled out a knife, the same one he’d told you he had when he jumped you, the same one you had briefly felt in the small of your back as he demanded compliance. Mark started moving toward Daryl’s prone figure. You felt your face blanche completely. But Daryl was faster and a better fighter and he was back on his feet in no time, keeping clear of the knife as Mark swiped toward him with it. Charlie and the other bar patrons had come out to see what was happening and the bartender had rushed back inside and was now on the phone with 9-1-1. You were screaming at Mark, trying desperately to reason with him, but he might as well have been totally deaf for all the attention he paid you.

Daryl took an opportunity and knocked him back on his ass again with a good punch and then kicked the knife out of his hand. It skidded away on the gravel and you breathed some small sigh of relief. Daryl landed over him and was punching him repeatedly in the face as police lights flashed brighter and sirens droned louder. The cops had arrived. “Daryl!” You rushed forward. “Daryl, stop! It’s okay!” You grabbed his shoulder and he immediately froze, fist cocked back, knuckles bloodied, chest heaving. Another moment and there were cops rushing over and pulling him away. One officer immediately led you a short distance away and you watched helplessly as both Daryl and Mark were put in handcuffs and then taken away in squad cars practically before you registered what was happening. “Wait—he didn’t—No, it was Mark. He—Daryl was protecting me! He—he tried to take me and—" You were trying to explain, trying to get the words out but it was all jumbled and rushed.

“Ma’am, slow down. Take a breath! Slow down! Okay. It’s okay,” the officer coached you.

“It wasn’t his fault!” you said urgently. Just then an ambulance pulled up and the EMTs jumped out. They raced over to you and you could tell by the looks on their faces that you must be a mess, red-faced and crying. You had no idea that you were bleeding from a laceration in your forehead where Mark had bashed your head into the car as he tried to force you inside. You had no idea that your neck looked raw and red, already revealing broken blood vessels and the obvious start of bruising from his hands around your throat. There was almost a visible hand impression on your upper arm where he’d grabbed you. “You—you took both of them but Daryl didn’t—”

The officer and the EMTs continued trying to calm you down. You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that most of the patrons had skipped out as soon as they’d heard the sirens, or perhaps as soon as Charlie had run for the phone. There were only a couple left and of course Charlie as well being questioned. You rounded on the cop again. “Just take me down to the station! I’ll give you a statement and then—then you have to let Daryl go! He didn’t do anything wrong. He saved me,” you gasped, the full weight of what had happened still not hitting you.

“Ma’am, you need stitches,” one of the EMTs told you gently. “Come on. We need to go to the hospital.” His partner pushed the cop back who was intent only on questioning you.

It was like all of a sudden, the adrenaline in your bloodstream vanished and you were exhausted and the pain started to set in. You glanced back over your shoulder and met Charlie’s eyes, he nodded and gave you a worried look before you turned back to the cop and the EMTs. “My—my purse is—” you gestured to where it was lying beside your car.

“We’ll have someone bring it to you after we get photographs, okay?” the cop said. You allowed yourself to be guided into the ambulance, shock starting to set in.

The doctors in the ER wouldn’t let the police question you while they patched you up and you were grateful for that. Besides, there was no chance of what had happened fading in your memory. To the contrary, every bit of it was burned in your mind despite how fast it had all happened. But you needed a goddamn minute to process it. He was out. How the fuck was he out of jail? And why the fuck hadn’t anyone warned you? You’d just stopped beside your car, ready to put the key in the lock when something hit you hard in the head from behind and you remembered dropping to your knees, stunned and with black vision. You’d heard his voice and made a break for the door into the bar. You’d actually gotten your hand on the handle and pushed but you were grabbed and pulled back violently. And then you’d just fought as hard as you could, tooth and nail. You knew if you got into that car, there was a good chance you were going to end up dead. He wasn’t in his right mind.

It was hard to believe this was the same Mark you’d been in a relationship with. He’d never been the least bit violent toward you, but the drugs… as soon as he started using again, he was a different person. But even then, even after he’d beat you up, you never would have expected this.

Once you’d been treated and released at the hospital, you found yourself sitting in the police station with a little Styrofoam cup of tea clutched between your hands, and some cop’s coat draped around your shoulders. The interview room was uncomfortably cold, but the numbness of shock and disbelief superseded the sensation of the chill air, though you were vaguely aware that you were shivering.

A detective came in and sat across from you at the little table and you looked up at him as he settled into his chair. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, readying his pen over his notepad. “I’m Detective Peters,” he said, checking his watch. “It is Thursday, April 28th, and 10 minutes past 11.” You’d given a statement just days earlier. You knew how this worked. You knew he was marking the date and time for the recording that the little, inconspicuous camera up in the corner was taking. “Alright, Y/N. I’m really sorry to see you again so soon under these circumstances.” He was the detective who was handling your domestic violence case too.

“Yeah, well, so am I,” you said, gritting your teeth a little. The numbness receded a little and was replaced by anger. “How the fuck is it that he was out of jail? He tried to kill me. How was he out? And why didn’t anyone contact me?” you demanded.

“He bonded out. And, yes, I’m sorry… we should have notified you. But we never considered him to be this much of a danger.”

“You never considered him to be this much of a danger?” you repeated incredulously. “We discussed a protection order. I don’t think that implies that everything is peachy.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused. “But we need to go over everything that happened tonight and get a statement from you.”

“I’ve already been questioned three times,” you said, exhausted and exasperated. “Why did you arrest Daryl? He saved me. He’s the reason I’m sitting here right now instead of being… I don’t know, maybe dead in a ditch somewhere. Are you still holding him? Is he still here?”

“It was chaos when the officers got there. We need to get everyone’s statements to sort this all out, okay? We didn’t know who was the aggressor or—”

You sighed heavily and shook your head. “Fine. Let’s just do the statement.” You walked him through everything that had happened and consented to have more pictures taken of your injuries; the laceration on your scalp, the bruises around your neck, the handprint on your arm, the scrapes and bruises and cuts on your knees. By the end of it you were so tired you weren’t seeing straight, but the detective stood up and you glanced up when you sensed he was looking down at you.

“Wait here just a few more minutes. I’ll be back,” he said. He left you alone in that little room again and you slumped forward, resting your head on your arms at the little table, completely spent and hurting all over. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when Detective Peters came back in.

“Y/N? Follow me,” he said. You obeyed and walked blindly after him through the station until he unlocked a heavy metal door and pushed through into a room lined with a couple holding cells.

You perked up and breezed past him, scanning the room for Daryl immediately. He jumped up from where he’d been slumped on a metal bench in one of the cells as you rushed over to him. He met you at the bars. “Are you okay?” you asked him urgently. You ignored the twinge in your forehead from your stitches as you furrowed your brow.

“Me? Are ya kiddin’?” he drawled, peering down at you with nothing but concern. “Are you?” His stomach twisted at the sight of your injuries.

You knew you couldn’t get any words out through the bubble of emotion caught in your throat so you only nodded. The clinking of keys behind you drew your attention and you stepped back as Detective Peters moved forward. He slid a key into the heavy lock and turned it, sliding the cell open and gesturing to Daryl that he could exit.

“I’m sorry about throwing you in here,” the detective said. “Everything in your statements matches up, so you’re free to go, with my thanks.” He extended a hand toward Daryl who eyed it with distaste for a moment.

“I don’t want yer thanks. I want ya to do a goddamn better job. This was too fuckin’ close. Never shoulda happened,” he spat. The detective looked regretful and nodded, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Daryl,” you said softly, gently grabbing his arm, trying to reroute the conversation. You were just grateful that he was no longer in a cell. Daryl’s eyes met yours and his expression softened immediately.

Detective Peters sighed. “I’ve got one of my guys waiting to drive you both home. Y/N, they have your items for you up front too. Again… I’m really sorry. But I can assure you that Mark won’t be getting out anytime soon after this.”

“The fuck is wrong with the damn laws? Girl almost had to die before ya’ll got up off your asses,” Daryl spat angrily again. You gently touched his arm again and he relaxed some, glancing down at you and sighing.

As you were settling into the squad car to be driven home, Daryl felt your eyes on his face and he glanced over and took in the wide-eyed expression underneath the fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted you.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Could I—I’ve got no right to ask you for anything after what you’ve already done but… could I ask you for another favor?” you said quietly.

Daryl stared back at you intently, feeling suddenly nervous under your eyes. If you’d asked him for the moon at that moment, he would have fucking figured out how to give it to you. He nodded. “Course.”

You wrung your hands nervously. “I’d feel better if—if you’d stay at my place tonight. I know it isn’t rational and that he’s—he’s locked up but I’d feel safer. But if that’s too much to ask I completely understand. You’ve already done more than enough and I—”

“Ain’t no problem. I’ll stay,” he said simply. You thought of him as safety. He didn’t think anyone in his life had ever seen him that way.

You felt a wave of relief and it was visible on your face. You shut your eyes briefly, again feeling beyond exhausted and hurting almost head to toe. “Thank you,” you breathed. “Thank you.”

Daryl nodded and ripped his eyes away from you. You leaned forward and gave your address to the cop and in no time you were both climbing out at the end of your driveway.

You stood at the front door and dug your keys out of your purse. Daryl noticed how much you were shaking as you tried to fit the key into the lock and his face contorted with concern. “Here,” he said gently, his hand enclosing over yours and taking the key from you before slotting it into the lock. His heart jumped at the contact and he did his best to ignore it. Now wasn’t the damn time.

“Thanks,” you murmured, accepting the keys from him again and pushing inside ahead of him.

Daryl softly shut and locked the door behind the two of you and stood a little awkwardly on the front mat. You moved stiffly across the front room and into the kitchen, clicking on the light. Daryl heard you shifting some things around before you returned with a cloth in one hand and a small bag of ice in the other.

You nudged your head toward the couch and he anxiously chewed on his bottom lip but obeyed and took a seat. You sank down beside him, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but he knew better than to argue as you pulled his hand over toward you and dabbed at the dried blood across his knuckles. They were split and puffy from their repeated connection with that prick’s face. Worth it. When you were satisfied that they were cleaned up enough, you laid the cloth and then the ice across them and glanced up at his face.

There seemed to be something you wanted to say, something in your expression that took Daryl aback, but before he could decode it, it vanished and you just looked defeated and weary. Daryl swallowed his nerves and nodded at you. “Go on to bed. I’ll be right here all night,” he said.

You gave him another long look before nodding and climbing to your feet with no small amount of effort. “Thank you,” you said, and you hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper, but it did. He only nodded back before ducking his head and avoiding your gaze, feeling a little overwhelmed. You managed to trudge to your bedroom and practically poured yourself into bed, still in all your clothes. Feeling safe, knowing Daryl was out on the couch, you sank into a heavy sleep almost immediately.

The next morning you awoke early with the birds, stiff and aching. You clutched a hand to your head, wincing when it landed flush onto the stitches in your forehead. “Fuck,” you muttered, climbing out of bed. You went straight for the bathroom and took some painkillers, pausing to run a comb through your hair and wash your face. You tenderly touched the bruises on your neck and your arm and frowned. You looked a proper mess… You felt a wave of shame and embarrassment before struggling to shove those feelings down. You changed, feeling a little better, and quietly moving through the house, heading for the kitchen and the coffee pot.

Daryl was laid out on the couch, still fast asleep and your heart jumped at the sight of him there. He had his head resting on one of the throw pillows and was stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting on his stomach. You couldn’t help but smile at how boyish he looked asleep and there was a wash of heat running through you as you finally tore your eyes away and padded softly into the kitchen.

Coffee brewing, you pulled ingredients out of the fridge and went about making some breakfast. In the other room, Daryl woke up to the sound of you cooking and the smell of bacon. He sat up and shifted on the couch, stretching and feeling a little self-conscious that you had obviously walked through and seen him asleep. He hastily ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down any craziness that might be going on.

Your voice from the doorway into the kitchen drew his eyes. “Hey. Morning.”

You had a goddamn smile for him. Despite what you’d gone through the previous night, you were smiling. At him.

“Hey,” he returned. “Ya get some sleep?”

You nodded and stepped out into the living room, a mug in your hand. “I did.” You were sure your face was coloring pink. “Thanks for staying. Um, do you drink coffee?” you asked, gesturing with the cup in your hands.

He nodded. “Sure,” he said, climbing to his feet. You met him halfway and pushed the mug into his hands. The ceramic was warm and Daryl looked down at the spirals of steam curling away from the surface.

You disappeared for a moment and returned with your own mug. “I’ve got breakfast cooking if you’re hungry,” you said, sinking down onto the now empty couch. Daryl gulped and took a spot at the other end from you.

You took a sip, annoyed at how fast your heart was racing as you looked at the handsome biker on the other end of your couch. “How’s your hand?” you asked him.

He pulled it off the mug and flexed and curled his fingers a few times. It was deeply bruised and the knuckles were definitely still swollen. “S’fine,” he drawled. In truth it hurt, but far less than looking at what was left on your skin from what you’d endured. “How are ya?” A shadow darkened his face for a moment with worry.

You nodded a little hesitantly. “I’ll be okay. Took some painkillers so…”

Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously for a moment. “‘M real sorry any of this happened to ya. Ya don’t deserve that.”

You gulped nervously. “Thanks…” You gave him another little smile, this one a little sad, but it seemed like your face brightened quickly again as you looked at him. He ducked his head.

In truth, Daryl couldn’t believe this was real. He’d pined after you for years, subsisting purely on a quick smile here and a word there as you simply did your job. If someone had told him a month earlier that he’d be sitting your house with you sipping coffee he would have thought they were batshit crazy. This was a long way from waking up in that dingy, smoky motel room with Merle bitching about needing another fix even before he could throw the blankets off. He’d never dared to think he would have anything like this, anything nice and normal. Not that he really had it… But even if this was a temporary, singular event it was doing something like filling him up and showing him that life wasn’t all just shit.

You were studying him as he seemed lost in thought, occasionally taking a sip of coffee, and you watched some anxiety cross his face. “C’mon and eat something with me. It’s the least I can do,” you said, nudging your head in the direction of the kitchen. Daryl glanced up and nudged his nose up in a nod before following you in.

You grinned a few minutes later as you sat across from each other at your little kitchen table and Daryl ate ravenously. He was suddenly self-conscious as he realized you were staring at him and he hastily wiped his mouth on his sleeve, but you only leaned your chin on your hand and continued looking at him with that little smile on your lips. It didn’t seem to belong there when you had fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted, sensing there was something on your mind.

You shrugged and finally looked back down at your own plate. “Nothing. This is—this is nice,” you said.

Daryl gulped. “What is?”

“I don’t know. Just… this. Breakfast with you.”

Daryl’s heart jumped but he nodded in agreement, trying his hardest not to give in to the thoughts of self-doubt and inadequacy. It was nice. It was more than nice. He felt like he had fallen through a wormhole into an alternate reality.

You set your mug down and gave him a long look. “I’m a little surprised you weren’t scared away,” you admitted. “I wouldn’t blame you if you had wanted to just distance yourself from the girl with the psycho ex… Go back to me just being your waitress at the bar.” You twirled your mug in your hands, looking anywhere but at him.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he studied your somewhat ashamed expression. “Nah. None of this is your fault. And—anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

Your eyes shot up to his face and this time his blue eyes held yours steadily. You didn’t know inside he was reeling. The atmosphere between the two of you felt suddenly thick and heavy, charged with electricity and hopeful expectations. Right when you were about to say something, or maybe do something the phone rang and you were startled out of that bubble of tension. You jumped a little and laughed abashedly before going to answer it.

Daryl let out a breath he hadn’t been holding and climbed to his feet, grabbing the dishes and piling them into the sink simply for something to do while you were on the phone. It was a quick call and when you turned around Daryl was rubbing a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. “Well, thanks for breakfast. I should probably get goin. Get outta yer hair’,” he drawled. He was sure you’d had enough of him by now.

“Oh,” you said. Wait, did that sound like disappointment?

Daryl gulped. “Ya should rest today. Take it easy,” he said. You nodded and wrung your hands a little nervously.

“I’ll try,” you said. You followed him out into the front room and watched as he pulled the door open and stepped outside, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Thanks again. For… saving my life and staying and…” you trailed off.

Daryl was very aware that his heart was racing and that there suddenly seemed to be an expanding empty space between his lungs as he got ready to walk down your steps. “Yeah, uhh… don’t mention it. I’ll see ya.”

You gave him one final small smile and he turned away, giving you a clear view of the wings on the back of his vest. Something about the sight of those jolted you out of your hesitation and into action. You squeezed your eyes shut and swore under your breath, stepping out onto the stairs and touching his shoulder.

Daryl turned back in surprise and saw you looking a little wide-eyed and breathless. “Ya alright?”

You gulped down your nerves and looped your arms around his neck, your eyes closing as you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, one of your hands moving to clasp his face, feeling the angles of his jaw and the stubble on his skin. It was soft and sweet, but your nerves got the better of you and you pulled back, anxious to take in his expression. He was on the step below you so his blue eyes were even with yours and you thought they were a little searching or maybe a little stunned.

His hands were suddenly on your waist, and it made him flush with heat, his eyes flickering between yours. His heart was pounding so hard and so fast he was worried you’d hear it. “Uhh… are ya sure this is a good idea right now?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

He watched a faint smile cross your lips and you nodded, your arms around his neck still. “Yeah. Best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

Daryl didn’t need any more encouragement. One of his hands pressed into the small of your back and pulled you into him while the other floated to clasp your face and tangle into your hair. Your lips crashed together, needy and sweet at first but building in heat as you both realized how long you had wanted this and how much better it was than you had even hoped. You smiled into his lips and pulled him more tightly into you, pressing your body against his. Daryl’s lips softened against yours and his hand smoothed through your hair to the nape of your neck as you pulled back just enough to look into each other’s eyes.

“Come back inside,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes closed at the sensation and he nervously licked his lips. “If ya want me to.” He needed to hear it for it to be true, for this to be real.

You grinned at him, biting your bottom lip. “I want you to. Daryl, I—I wanted to kiss you last night. As soon as you were out of that stupid jail cell, but… I didn’t want you to think I was only doing it because I was—scared or concussed or something… So, come back inside and spend the day with me... Please?”

His expression softened and his lips curved in a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Alright,” he said, understated for the wild happiness and disbelief he was truly feeling. You were solid underneath his hands. His palm was flush to your lower back and you were leaning into him. “Anythin’ ya want.”

You shook your head at him and gave him a fond look. “Just you.”

[ragingbookdragon]

You Light The Spark In My Bonfire Heart

Kyle Rayner x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I HAVEN'T HAD ANY WIFI ALL DAY BUT NOW I DO AND this is my new obsession and pair and you can tear it from my cold dead hands. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Kyle had an easy morning routine: get up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, workout, shower, drink protein shake, and draw. It was simple and effective, and helped him maintain a sense of normalcy that he didn’t always have when he was up in space. He typically started out with sketching small things, mostly faces and limbs from memory, the occasional suit redesign, then he’d get into the bigger works, drawing comic panels and the commissions he had. And while Kyle loved to be up in space, to be a Green Lantern, drawing felt like coming home to him, like it was the natural state. That being said, he didn’t love being interrupted when he was in the middle of something important—it was bad for the groove.

***

As the second round of knocking sounded on his door, Kyle grunted and stood from his desk, padding through the hallway to his front door; he flicked the lock and pulled open the door, surprise etching across his face when he saw the eldest Wayne leaning against the door frame—rather cockily, Kyle added, because the soldier’s arm was propped on the frame, the other stuck in the side-pocket of his dark tactical bomber jacket.

“Good morning, Kyle,” he greeted with a smirk. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

The Lantern blinked, shaking his head. “Uh, no, you’re not, (Y/N).” he looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Had some business to take care of for my dad, and since I was in the area, I figured I’d drop by and see if you wanted to get some lunch with me.”

Kyle took a moment to lean out the doorway slightly, looking down the stretched hallway. “How’d you know where I live?”

“Please, a magician never reveals his secrets,” he deflected coolly, gazing at Kyle. “What do you say? Wanna get some lunch? I know a really good sports bar that serves great food.”

He looked back at (Y/N) and smiled. “Yeah. Let me go get dressed.”

The soldier merely winked in return and with fumbling hands, Kyle managed to shut the door before his cheeks burst into flames, hurrying back to his bedroom to pull together an outfit that would impress the man.

***

Kyle almost dropped to his knees when he saw the car parked outside his apartment building, and (Y/N) knew it too, because he chirped, “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

He nodded dumbly. “Is this a McLaren 720S?”

“Mhm.” He opened the doors and slid into the driver’s seat, looking through the passenger door. “Coming?”

“Am I ever,” Kyle breathed, climbing into the seat, immediately running his hands along the dashboard and seat. “I’m in love.”

“Wait till you hear her purr,” (Y/N) said, closing the doors, and pushing the ignition. The sports car roared to life and he grinned at the way Kyle’s face melted. “Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He put the car in drive and looked through the side mirror, then pulled out onto the street.

“Is this one of your dad’s cars?”

“Nah, I bought this for myself a couple months ago.” He pulled the sunglasses from his t-shirt and put them on. “This and an Audi TT.”

Kyle huffed a laugh. “Jesus, you billionaires live it up, don’t you?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Hey, I live life in the fast lane. Might as well drive in it too.” He pushed a button on the touch screen and music filtered through the speakers, and Kyle’s face pinched in confusion. “What?”

“This isn’t—James Blunt isn’t the music I figured you’d play.”

“What’d you think I’d be listening too? Rock?” he chuckled, turning the volume down a bit. “Don’t get me wrong, I listen to all kinds of rock music, but I figured you’d want something easy rather than head-bang your brains out rock.” (Y/N) stopped at a red light and glanced over. “You can look through the artists on my phone if you want.”

Kyle shook his head, relaxing into the seat as the melody flowed through him. “No, I like this artist.” The soldier merely smiled in return, pressing the gas pedal again, and Kyle suddenly remembered something. “Speaking of artist, I saw the canvas in your bedroom the other day. Do you draw?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Not like you. It’s more of a pastime than a lifestyle.”

“You’re good at it. You’re painting your family in their suits. Details and designs included.” The artist regarded him with impression. “That takes skill.”

“I’d like to think I just have a steady hand and a lot of patience for stressful tasks.” (Y/N) turned the wheel, coming up behind a line of cars. “It’s an easy way for me to relax and mentally run through past events.”

“Like what?” Kyle questioned curiously.

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, but not in a loathing way, more of a thoughtful one. “Missions, conversations, things I could’ve done differently, things I will do differently.” He shrugged again. “Painting for me is just a time when I think about everything and nothing.”

“Well, you’re great at it, (Y/N).”

He snorted. “It’s just a bunch of paintings of my family and friends and military shit.”

Kyle blinked and leaned over. “Wait, is that painting in the den—”

“The one of the F-18 Super Hornet?”

“Yeah. You painted that?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. I got Hal Jordan to take me up in one a few years ago and decided to commemorate the trip.”

“Wow,” the Lantern breathed. “I stared at that canvas for at least an hour the first time I saw it. I was just so blown away by how amazing it was.” He chuckled and shook his head. “And to find out, you drew it and not some world-famous painter.”

“Hey, I could be world famous if I wanted.” (Y/N) shot back, turning onto a less busy backstreet. “I just choose to retain my talents for family and friends.”

“Because of your job?”

“That too.” He agreed. “My squad and I take careful precautions to avoid our faces being seen during any missions for the safety of our families.” His face turned as solemn as his voice. “We do what we do to make the world safer. To keep our families and friends safe. It’s imperative that we’re not seen.”

Kyle cocked a brow. “But you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?”

“I am,” he nodded. “But I’m not as…out as the rest of my siblings. You’d be able to recognize them from press photos, but me not so much.” (Y/N) pulled into a parking spot outside the bar. “People only recognize me when they see the name on the credit cards. And I prefer to keep it that way.” A goofy smile crossed his lips. “The high life isn’t for me.”

“Says the man that drives a 710 horsepower sports car.” Kyle shot back with a grin of his own and (Y/N) stuck his tongue out as he turned the car off and opened the doors.

“Okay, I’m not actively in the high life but that doesn’t mean I don’t like luxury.” He closed the car doors and opened the front door to the bar for Kyle. “After you.”

“Thank you.” He replied, and walked inside, only stopping to turn and ask, “Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?”

(Y/N) tipped his head to the side. “I’m down with both, but I like the bar more.”

“Bar it is,” Kyle said and slid into one of the chairs, (Y/N) the other, and an older man wandered over.

“Well, I’ll be damned, is that (Y/N) Wayne I see?”

He turned, expression morphing into joy as he reached out and shook the older man’s hand. “Jack, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you son. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, you know me, sir. Nothin’ changing but the weather.”

Jack snorted. “And the desert where you dig sand outta your ass.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Damn straight.” He looked at Kyle. “Kyle, I’d like you to meet Jack Dagher. He’s an old CO of mine.”

Kyle shook the man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“It’s all mine,” Jack replied. “It’s been a while since (Y/N) brought anybody here.”

At that, Kyle turned to the soldier who was busy looking anywhere but his face. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. Sonovabitch doesn’t bring his dates here unless he really likes ‘em.”

(Y/N) coughed, glaring at the man. “Alright, we get it. Aren’t you supposed to be taking orders?”

Jack gave him a smug look in return. “What can I get you boys to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Kyle said, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“No shit, kid. What kind?”

(Y/N) snickered as Kyle flushed. “Uh, a Heineken.”

Jack sighed. “And he had such potential. (Y/N)?”

“Gimme a strawberry daiquiri then water after.”

“Still ordering fruity drinks, huh?”

“Hey, they get you drunk faster than horse piss does, you old fart.” He shot back and the old man chuckled.

“Touché.” He slapped the bar. “I’ll bring those to you with an order of chili fries.”

“Thanks Jack,” (Y/N) smiled, watching the man walk off before turning to Kyle who was watching one of the baseball games. “You like sports?”

He tipped his head side to side. “I don’t not like them. I was never a sporty kid in school, but I like watching them.” He looked at the solider. “What were you like in school? Jock or prep?”

“Probably a bit of both,” he answered. “I played sports and had the highest grades.” Shrugging, he added, “And being a Wayne boosted me into the top tier of schools, so, there’s that. To be honest, I think all of us Wayne kids were and are a mixture of every stereotypical category.”

“I can see that,” Kyle laughed. “Especially with Jason and Dick.”

“Shit, I was talking about Timmy.” (Y/N) said. “That kid’s a grade A nerd.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

The two of them laughed and a woman placed their drinks in front of them, both giving their thanks as they took sips.

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”

“My muscles are one hundred percent real. Especially my abs. Which you’re allowed to feel on in envy if you want.”

Kyle snorted into his beer, wiping his mouth. “No!” a few more chuckles passed his lips as he wiped the bar. “Are you…you know…?”

“A Leo?” (Y/N) offered with a smile, but his eyes told Kyle he knew exactly what the Lantern was asking, and he said, “I like the liquor, but I don’t care what label it has on it.”

The other man smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“But if you want the technical term, I am pansexual.” He regarded Kyle a moment. “You?”

“Bisexual.”

His lips pulled in an impressed fashion. “Pretty fly for a bi guy.”

Kyle gaped at him for a moment, then shoved (Y/N) in the side as he buried his face in his arms and laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

“Ah thank you,” he grinned. “I get it from my old man.”

“You,” he cut himself off with a cackle. “do not get that from him.”

“Look, you know the big man in the suit. You don’t know the complete goober we live with,” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling at the waitress who placed menus in front of them; he picked his up and flipped through it.

“What do you recommend?”

“Hmm…anything with bacon on it.” He showed the menu. “If you like salads, get the steak and blue cheese one, it’s fantastic. Or if you’re more into tacos, they’ve got these awesome shrimp carnitas with chili peppers.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed as he looked the menu over. “What are you gonna get?”

“My usual. Tomahawk steak with garlic butter and mashed potatoes.” (Y/N) groaned and rested his head back. “I haven’t had a good steak in months, and I can just taste it already.”

“So, you’re a meat and potatoes kind of man?”

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed. “Unlike the cup noodle and Hawaiian roll man beside me.”

“Ouch. Hit me where it hurts.”

“C’mon Kyle, hit me with your best shot.”

“Better watch it, (Y/N),” he grinned. “You might be the next notch in my pencil case.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

***

“Holy crap,” Kyle breathed, hands resting lightly on his stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

(Y/N) moaned. “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”

“Done?” their waitress laughed. “You haven’t even finished your desserts yet!”

“Oh God, don’t make me,” the Lantern whined. “I’ll explode.” He looked over. “(Y/N), take one for the team.”

“Pass,” he replied. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds just looking at the rest of the cheesecake.”

The woman laughed. “I’ll wrap the leftovers for you boys.” She wandered off, leaving them alone, and a blaring ringtone filled the space between.

(Y/N) jumped a little, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I get this really quick?”

Kyle shook his head. “Go ahead.”

He slid his thumb along the bottom and rested the phone on the bar. “This is Wayne.”

Captain! Finally. I’ve been texting you all afternoon.

“I know,” he snorted. “I’ve been ignoring it.”

Yeah well, the longer you ignore me the slower it takes for the radar dish to get replaced.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) asked. “I thought you’d procured one.”

I did. Then the buyer told me I wasn’t registered for official military hardware.

He frowned. “That’s odd. You did contact Thomas, right?”

Yeah. Beady eyed looking motherfucker who serves on the George Washington, right?

“That’s him.” (Y/N) hummed. “Tell you what, I’ll call him later this evening and get it all sorted out, yeah?”

Sounds good. Hey, did you take that guy out yet? Your little brother won’t stop texting me about some twinkie you’re into.”

(Y/N) froze as he felt Kyle’s eyes drilling into the side of his head and he stuttered, “Uh, Nadeen, now’s not the best time.”

What do you mean best—oh…ohhhhhh. I, uh, I gotta go, Captain.

“Yep. Bye.” He locked the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, refusing to meet Kyle’s eyes. “So…you catch the baseball game?”

“Which one of your brother’s thinks I’m a twink?” Kyle asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s Jason, isn’t it?” he grunted in his throat, deadpanning, “I can’t believe my best friend thinks I’m a twink.”

“It’s Dick, actually.” (Y/N) grinned, turning to face him and he reached over, pinching Kyle’s cheek. “It’s just ‘cause you’re so cute and perky.”

The Lantern merely glared at him, griping, “I’m not as strong as you, put I can punch pretty hard.”

“Ooo, those are fighting words,” he shot back with a smirk, letting Kyle go. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

“I feel like I’m talking to Hal.”

(Y/N) whined, all but collapsing onto Kyle who started snickering. “I’ve just been murdered.” He buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder. “Can’t believe I was just compared to Highball. The world must be coming to an end.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby. You’re not dying.”

“I am!” he turned his head, gazing at Kyle. “You’ll have to carry me to safety.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I did not say that.”

“You did, but in more words.”

“Alright, now I’m talking to Guy.”

“THAT’S SO MUCH WORSE!”

***

He leaned against the door frame as Kyle unlocked his front door and pushed it open, turning to look at him. “I had a lot of fun today, (Y/N).” he murmured. “Thanks.”

Winking, he replied, “I’m glad you did. I’d like to do it again soon if you want.”

Kyle nodded. “I’d like that.”

They stared at each other for a few moments and (Y/N) smiled, patting the door frame. “Well, I’d better be heading out. Have to get home in time for dinner.” He paused, giving the man a warm look. “Thanks for having lunch with me, Kyle.”

He’d not gotten two feet from the door when Kyle’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Wait.” He turned and the Lantern leaned forward, pressing his lips to (Y/N)’s cheek. “Be careful on your way back.”

“I will,” he murmured, watching Kyle wave and disappear into his apartment, the door shutting behind him.

[sunflower1experiment]

Crawls out of trash can

Don't ask why I was there! Anyway, danganronpa V3 and danganronpa 2 crossover ;) the reader acts like one of the girls in danganronpa goodbye despair, each different girl for a different person though it can repeat. Not me hoping you will write Hiyoko because she's one of my biggest kins

- Mod Junko

My house- I JUST FINISHED CLEANING IT- *grabbing the trash* HOMIEEE

Also Ayy Hiyoko fan, she freakin adorable and cool. Can we appreciate how she’s the only gremlin in the game that tries to do better.

Shuichi

“Hey hey Shuichi!” You ran over happily, “Whats up my brotha! Imma help you with the next target at hand.” He nods. “Alright we’ll we’re investigating this new world at the moment.” You grin viciously, “So you want me to sniff out the goods!” You pick him up. “LETS ROLL!”

As you can tell, you’re the practical twin of Akane. You practically loved Kirumi….well no you asked to marry her and Shuichi got a bit jealous and carefully moved you away. Then you tried to race Kaito, and won, and Kokichi thinks you’re gullible…you’re not you just get gullible for food.

One day Shuichi was doing push-ups and you had him sit on your back. He did and just laid on you for awhile, The man is sometimes happy to be your friend. Until he found out you were related to Miu, now he’s having complications with life. “You and her…related?” You nod.

“My sister is a freaking genius. I’m sure she told you that already.” It was weird but he admired your love towards Miu even though she was a total jerk sometimes.

Himiko even wanted you as the sister instead so you adopted her as your daughter and sometimes carry her and Kokichi around. “That’s your woman?” Kaito would ask to which Shuichi would reply angrily. “Yes and I prefer it stays that way you talk purple plum!”

Kirumi

You met her and she met you, the two of you swore to protect everyone but you specifically protected her.

“Kirumi-“ you held her as monokuma’s Kubs attacked then got ready to grab your sword. She blushed at this and avoided eye contact with you.

On occasions when she was busy cooking you’d be by the kitchen silent as a mouse and listening to everyone. Whenever someone came around you’d aim your sword at them cautiously, “Do you have an appointment with her?” Would be repeated so much that Kirumi would come out and gently warn you it was alright.

Sometimes whenever she told you to ease up you’d blush and request the same thing but she’d take it as an order. “….Kirumi- I…” you hesitated but then hugged her close. “I’ll always be by your side okay?”

You meant it even though you scared half the group itself you truly meant it. But why did you not let her kill when she needed to save everyone!?

You held the stick whilst Ryoma stared up. “Go Ryoma…” he ran off and you set the stick aside then held her close. “….To tell you the truth. This motive was nothin more than bait, I’m sorry you nearly became a blackened for the sake of something not true.” She stayed silent.

Kirumi didn’t understand what you meant until you had to be executed. “She didn’t commit any crime!” “Phuhu no but she ruined a perfect murder…and I hate that.” The woman ran out to save you.

But you slashed her right eye. Tears poured from your face then you held Kirumi and ran away from the bots before covering her form. “(Y/N)….” She held your arm then the two of you were in the air.

Suddenly you both fell into a pile of flowers: white Lily flowers. She held you close to her chest, whilst you rested peacefully. Monokuma hums… “Hmph…I guess I’ll let this slide.” Everyone was filled with relief.

Rantaro

“RANTAROOOOO! Gimme a (Y) GIMME AN (N) what does that spell! (Y/N)! (Y/N) wishes to spend quality time with her favorite guy in the world.”

You’re the ultimate musician who likes to sing death metal…but You’re so sweet- yes loud but so sweet…how could an Angel sing death metal?

Here’s why: Kokichi annoys you, Miu annoyed you. You always smiled though even with the sweetest smile ever: oh and Angie kept mentioning atua and demeaningly spoke down to you, then there’s Monokuma. You walked off and grabbed your microphone, before yelling loudly “RAAAAAAAHH PUSHING THE BUTTONS WHEN I CAN’T FIGHT BACK! THESE FREAKING KIDS ARE THE BANE OF MY LIFE! LOOKING AT THEIR FACE JUST MAKES ME SICK! THAT DUMBASS LITTLE BEAR IS SUCH A DICK!!!”

Everyone can hear you when you rage. “CHOKE ON MY RAGE!!!! CHOKE ON MY RAGE!!! Aaaaaahh!!!” Rantaro loves you, and the word love is an understatement. He just relates to most of these songs and supports all of it if you had a concert for these he’d be there immediately.”

One day however Kokichi pushed your buttons and you got up only for Kaito to whine. “(Y/N) come on you can’t leave the meet up now!” You then grabbed Kaito by the shirt and started raging. “I DONT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THIS DAMN MEET AND GREET!” You then stamp your feet on the table, “THIS MEET AND GREET IS SUCH A GOSH DAMN DRAG!” Rantaro covered your mouth whilst you raged then rubs your hair. “There there my adorable ray of sunshine.”

You’re not always angry he swears you just have a strong passion for music. Sometimes when you’re enjoying yourself you’re busy cheering Shuichi on with the cases or even chilling with Tenko or Gonta…mostly Tenko. Kaede is your older sis so hangin with her wasn’t gonna happen, it does but that means cuddling and she does that without the eyes of society. Ironically enough you cuddle him in public or you’d hum a soft melody for when he’s tired…he always looks tired.

His raspy yet soft voice also makes you sleep as well. Not in a boring way but it calmed your nerves.

Korekiyo

“My name is (Y/N) Nevermind!” You smile at Kore. He wasn’t sure why but he felt the need to bow, so he held your hand and did. You blushed but immediately told him there was no need, “I hope we can be friends. As the ultimate prince I’ve never had friends.”

Korekiyo followed you around for a bit and you admired his work very much. His stories and admiration towards other cultures sorta reminded you of some horror films you’d watch, “Maybe you and I can watch Friday the thirteenth together!”

He ended up watching that weird alien movie with you and then went to watch some resident evil. It wasn’t as scary but it did bring up some suspense, sometimes you’d lean on him during the movies.

He mentioned his sister to you once and you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” “You said your sister was sick…and then said she’s always with you..Korekiyo: the way you said those last sentence, did something happen?”

You weren’t a physician but you could tell he was hurt you weren’t sure in what way though. So rather than prying you hugged him happily, “For now on we’re friends. And you and I are only friends I just wanna befriend you, not your sister. Besides I don’t think guys can befriend her right?” He slowly nods then blushed when you kissed his head.

Gonta

Tiny brat? Or tiny sweetheart? Doesn’t matter because Gonta likes you and is very good gentleman! “Gonta pick me up!” You demand and he did, you hug him close, “Nyehehe! I could take over the world at this point.”

Guess who’s your twin? Hiyoko, you always bullied anyone who tried your patience. Like Miu, you and Kokichi both would drag her then laugh when she got mad: but Gonta? The one who helped you? Nope, if Kokichi even tried he’d suffer your wrath.

“What did you just say about Gonta you tiny little gremlin!? Trash breath! Say that again! Gonta is an adorable gentleman and if you got something to say I’ll freakin pull your hair off!” Gonta picks you up, “(Y/N) don’t do that. Gonta no worry about what others say. Only worry about you.”

He’s your giant teddy bear. You like holding his hand a lot, something about baby hands and giant hands….or maybe you just like giant hands hold your hands and face.

Once a awhile you’d dance for Gonta or even perform some bug dances for him. He’d immediately guess which ones they are based on the movement. Until you performed the spider dance, the male was so confused until you sang the song.

Bugs, you actually had to sadly admit that you squished some ants when you were younger, he forgave you because you said younger if you did it now then he planned on never forgiving you.

One day Gonta kissed you on the cheek so you squealed but then chilled out and replied softly. “Thank you…your kisses are nice.” “Gonta likes your kisses too (Y/N) your lips are very soft!” You wheezed so hard and started squeaking.

Kaede

Another Hiyoko twin? You absolutely love Kaede, that’s your big sis! Your crush your favorite pianist ever, all you do is drag her around. Hold hands maybe even wash up together just for fun!

Whenever you’re getting all snappy it’s usually when SHES not looking, if she gently told you off you’d nod then scratch your cheek: “Sorry Kaede.” After that the girl is smothering you.

Sometimes when you two Wanna cheer everyone up you both perform together, your graceful dancing and her sweet melody were in perfect sync how could anyone hate you? Even though you’re a practical gremlin like Kokichi…

It’s even worse when you’re related to him. The two of you stand side by side and cackle happily before pointing ahead, “Take that you pig barf!” Kaede suddenly picks you up and Shuichi was picked up by Kokichi. Next you both got carried away. “MAN FUUUUDGE!”

Maki

Talking to her on your end was sorta hard, Yep this is you. Mahiru’s Doppler; she didn’t want you near her at all but you somewhat persisted.

The only thing that caught her attention with you was the pictures. Himiko and Angie both would insist you’d take photos of them, Tenko even urged you on as well which you did but Maki would scare them away.

“Do you mind taking a picture of um…” she stays silent, and you smile a bit. “Sure I’ll take a picture of those lavenders you liked.” She averted her gaze and played with her hair. “Thanks.”

You went off and took a few pictures then returned them to Maki she looked at them curiously then a smile rose on her face. You snapped another picture then handed it to her again, “Woah…” the girl suddenly felt water flooding her eyes. “….That’s my smile?” “Don’t worry I didn’t look I just snapped a quick photo.” She blushed some more before leaning on your arm. “Thanks (Y/N)”

The ultimate photographer and the ultimate assassin: you two were sorta inseparable even Kaito congratulated you on helping ‘Maki Roll’ open up. “Hehe thanks.” You blush and she held your hand. “Come on we better get to training before Kaito bugs us.”

Kaito

How can this world be so cruel!? You the ultimate gamer!? Didn’t have games that you liked so you slept on Kaito all the time.

Yea he finds that to be cruel: every moment you got you’d play your game or you’d sleep on him, Chiaki would be proud…if you weren’t her doppler. You slept on his lap, his chest. Or you’d have him lay on your chest while you slept.

Training? Kaito wouldn’t dare bother you, so you’d sit on his back or you’d do yoga with him and stretch out.

“Kaito why are you letting her sleep on you again?” He sobs. “Because shes so damn cute and I don’t wanna wake her….” This man was actually crying wow: this maybe be a shock but you really enjoyed cuddling him.

Now for videogames, you’re on his lap or you’re teaching him how to play. This man does use this to advantage occasionally but he’s respectful of it, whenever he needs help you’d press up to him and he’d playfully kiss your cheek. To which you’d smile then chuckle quietly, before kissing his cheek as well.

How romantic…until you both play cuphead. Guess who’s wheezing while you’re busy quoting Coryxkenshin. Kaito, the man is trying so hard not to wheeze or die but you just keep raging. His favorite board is the blimp Hilda berg.

Watching the stars is the best you’ll lay on him and watch them shine so beautifully before cuddling up to Kaito then falling asleep. Peaceful in his arms

Ryoma

“Sorry I’m late I was trying to- AAAH!” You tripped then flopped onto the ground, as Mikan’s twin and little sister this was common for you. It was always the darn boots you wore, “I’m sorry…” Ryoma helped you up and just pats your hand. “No worries.”

He watched over you occasionally. Whenever Miu or Kokichi bullied you it was sorta not the sight to see, “I-I do-don’t m-mean to be a nuisance please forgive me.” At first the male would defend you but he tried to teach you to be brave.

One day you snapped and started yelling. “Not fair not fair not fair not fair not fair! WHY WON’T NEITHER OF YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!? It’s always me! *hic* I-I’M DONE- you hear me!” You yell angrily. “I’M THROUGH WITH BEING BULLIED!” Suddenly Kokichi replied snappily. “It was just a joke (Y/N).” “Kokichi- shut up.” Ryoma walks over to you but grunts as you ran off crying.

“Hey (Y/N)…?” The male knocked on your door you opened it then let him in and hugged the balloon: he offered as soon as he walked in. “Made it myself.” You nuzzle the item lovingly.

“….I have a problem..” he sits down. “We all do kitten..sometimes we gotta face those problems head on.” You sniffle, “Why are we demeaned as bad people? Yo-You did what you d-did to protect your loved ones and for vengeance…” he sighs. “Kitten…I’m not sure…But I don’t think I need to worry about that. I have you.”

You smile a bit before looking away with a blush. “That means a lot.” He can’t help but blush while admiring your adorable blushy face. ‘Cute’

You hold his hand often. Alone without the eyes of everyone around you, he’s not good with something you crave so you initiate the physical emotion and intimacy.

Kisses? On the cheek from you and head from you? Lips? He does that and you squeal softly.

Cuddles? Well…Ryoma’s big spoon but somehow his s face is always pressed up to your chest. “(Y/N)!” His muffled voice would go off and you’d back away then hug him sadly. “I’m sorry.”

Whenever you helped nurse people back to health you’d occasionally check the scars on his back. For a small guy he was pretty buff which you expected from him.

He disliked his scars, you paid no mind because they didn’t define him. But on some days you’d hold him close and whisper soft nothings to Ryoma.

Shuichi one day asked you about the next motive. On account to the first trial you called out Kaede’s intentions and told her to lay off but she still died along with Rantaro. So this time you pointed out Kirumi, he confronted her with Kaito: turned out she had her motive. “Nice one Kitten.” Ryoma winks, you squeak then giggle softly before blushing madly. “Thank you.”

[perzawa]

→ defender of justice

saeyoung choi x fem! reader

desc: you weren’t the best at relationships. man after man, woman after woman, but you could not find the right one. after getting stood up on a date, a mysterious man with red hair comes to the rescue. 

genre: smut

warnings: praise kink, unprotected sex, sex with a stranger, pet names

word count: 3.1K

Not again.

Not like this.

Hot tears pricked your eyes, the salty liquid rolling slowly down your flaming cheeks. How long had it been since you were sitting in that exact spot, waiting and waiting and waiting. You looked around like a lost puppy, mouth agape and eyes wide. Where the hell was he? You scammed the restaurant, your eyes glossing over multiple bodies of men and women. Everyone looked so happy with their spouses or potential mates, smiling in the faces of each other as they shared meals. 

That was supposed to be you laughing. That was meant to be you sharing spaghetti with your boyfriend. How could you be so foolish to believe he’d show up this time? 

“Ma’am, are you ready to pay for your meal?” The woman asked kindly, eyes shut with a large smile plastered on her features. You frowned, wiping away at the tears forming in your eyes. 

“Just a moment, ma’am.” 

“Okay! I’ll be back!” She left soon after. Sweat trickled down your eyebrows and your breathing hitched, stomach churning painfully. You were surrounded by couples. Everywhere you looked, there was a couple. Man, women, women, men. You’d given up. He won. Getting ready to pay and leave, you stood up, wiping at the new tears forming in your eyes. 

You took one last look around. Multiple people had been paying attention to you now, apologetic looks dancing across their faces. You simply smiled in their directions. You didn’t need pity from anyone. You’ve been stood up before, you’ll be fine. Yeah, you’ll be fine after you eat six tubs of ice cream and cry your eyes out for a week. Maybe you and Akira weren’t meant to be. You had given up now, sighing as you reached for your wallet, standing to your aching feet.

Just then, a pair of shoes stepped into your vision and you looked up, instantly in awe. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. You can sit down now.” 

You stared up at him, lips agape as you tried to process his request. This wasn’t Akira. I mean, he was no doubt more attractive than Akira was in every way, but he definitely wasn’t Akira. The last time you’d seen him, Akira had black hair, not red. 

“W-Who are you?” 

“I’m Seven. Just go with it, okay?” He whispered to you, sitting in the seat across the table from yours. Shocked, you didn’t say anything, only blinking at the man. 

“I was standing there,” he looked over and pointed to the small line of people waiting to be seated. “I was there for a bit and I noticed that you’d been stood up.” You winced hearing the words, eyes darting down in embarrassment. You knew he wasn’t coming, but it still ached to hear him put it so matter-of-factly. 

“He’s a dick. Or she.” 

“A-Are you here with someone?” You tripped over your words, rubbing your exposed arm with your hand. Suddenly the air was cooler, tighter. 

“Nah, I came alone. I originally came for pickup, but seeing a pretty little lady all by herself made me change my mind.” 

“O-Oh…” you tilted your head up at him. “Please, I don't wish to burden you or anything. You’re incredibly sweet, but you can get your food.” 

The mysterious man chuckled, running his hand through his shaggy hair as his eyes looked you up and down. “You’re precious.” 

“I’m serious. I don’t want you to pity me. I saw this coming.” You mumbled those last words, pushing your plate of food to the middle of the table, hoping a waitress would swing by soon so that you could leave quickly. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. My conscience won’t allow me to leave you alone here.” You frowned, crossing your legs under the table. Your eyes met his and you’d noticed how pretty his were, suddenly melting. This man was adorable. Sure, he was kinda underdressed to be eating there, but you overlooked his apparel. He was hot. 

A few minutes passed by of an odd silence before a waitress came by, taking your old food and asking who she assumed to be your date, if he was ready to order. 

So he did. 

“Seven…” you muttered, hoping he would’ve been gone by now. “You’re too nice. I-I’ll pay for this as a thank you.” 

“Pay for it? Oh, hush, I got it. I’ve got enough. Don’t thank me for anything, okay?” 

And that was it. He ordered food and even shared a bit with you, even after you explained that you’d already eaten. You didn’t even know how you could both find so much to talk about, being complete strangers and all. But you still found a way. You incorporated jobs, home life, and he even allowed you to talk about your relationship with Akira a bit. 

“I was right. He sounds like an ass.” 

You giggled, reaching over the table to fork some of his salad before shoving it in your mouth. Seven gazed at you in awe, his focus completely set on you whenever you decided to share something, anything. 

“He wasn’t always like that, I promise. We got along really well for a while and it was perfect,” you looked down at the table you were sitting at before a dry chuckle found its way out of you. “We’re a bit off and on, you could say. That’s why this was so important to me. I guess he didn’t care as much.”

Seven frowned, noticing your change in demeanor. 

“Don’t let that get you down, okay? Look, you may not know me, but I’m here now. And as far as I’m concerned, I’m having so much fun right now. I’m glad he didn’t show up.” 

“Really? Y-You’re having fun?” Your eyes widened and you felt blood rush to your cheeks, self consciously rubbing your arm, which had now produced an insane amount of goosebumps. 

“Course I am, sweetie. What? You thought I stayed for my health? You’re cool. He’s missing out.” 

And with that, you both changed the subject to forget about Akira. He was irrelevant. 

You didn’t end up paying for your bill in the end, Seven did. Of course he did it, throwing in a ‘you really thought I’d let you pay for this alone?’ While he was at it. He escorted you out, hands stuffed in his pocket. You felt the cool air embrace your skin, the new area calming you now, the wind sweeping away every negative thought you experienced that evening. You almost forgot you’d even been stood up in the first place, really. But that’s how fun the ginger was. He was sweet and loud, always making jokes. His humor was a little bit odd. Well, it was extremely odd, but it made him more attractive to you. From his striped glasses to his plain sneakers, he was so down to earth. You wanted to talk to him again. You needed to say thank you. 

“I had a great time. Hey, actually, you never told me your name.” He turned to you, both of you still standing in front of the building. 

“Oh! You’re right! It’s Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, I had a good time. I’ll get going now, you take care for me.” The tall man turned away, pressing the button on his keys. Your ears perked up after hearing the car beep, indicating that the car was his. 

He was leaving. 

C’mon, Y/N. Ask him. It won’t be hard, right? The worst he could say is that he’s probably busy or he’s got work in the morning. Just do it. Do it. 

You yelped and that seemed to snatch his attention, the man whipping around to see if you were alright. 

“You good?” 

“Y-Yeah! Um, I’ve got no idea if you’re like busy tomorrow or something,” you trailed off, staring at your heels as you rocked back and forth on them. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come over! J-Just to like, watch Netflix. Unless you’re busy! Then that’s okay! I’m so sorry for burdening you!” You rambled on, your face entirely flushed, your body swinging sporadically from putting yourself on the spot like that. 

“Hey, hey, stop that,” he pushed your chin up, your eyes drifting to his hair, rather than his eyes. “I’d love to come over, okay? Hell, where’s your car? Let’s go right now.” 

Your eyes shot down to his, your face lighting up at his kind words. 

“Oh! Um, I took a cab here!” 

“That’s fine. Just gimme the directions, I’ll take you.” 

You could feel your heart swell in your chest. He was so damn cute. His smile stretched across his entire face, eyes closed from his cheeks pushing them upward. He guided you to his vehicle and let's just say you were more than impressed with his ride, eyes widening. Damn, now you really had to know where this man worked to afford such an expensive car. That was a question for another day. You pulled up a GPS and from there, the ride was mostly silent. You aimlessly scrolled through your twitter feed until he pulled up outside your home, first asking if he was at the right place. 

“Yeah, this is it!” Seven nodded and parked in your driveway, stepping out of his car awkwardly waiting for you to unlock the door before he did anything else. He locked his car, following after you. You giggled and unlocked your home, your cat rushing to the opening door to greet you. 

Seven laughed, pushing his way in as well. “Hey! I love cats!” 

You beamed, bending down to pet your feline. “Mmm, that’s a funny coincidence! Her name’s Elle.” 

Seven’s goofy demeanor dropped into a much more serious one. “You’re lying! There’s no way! M-My friend, his cat’s name is Elizabeth!” 

You threw your hands up, bursting into a fit of laughter. You looked up at the flickering lights, wishing you’d remembered to turn them off before you left the house. That was your worst bad habit. Seven noticed the flickering as well, but ignored it, just standing awkwardly as he awaited your next steps. You turned the main light off and led him to your living room, sitting on your sofa. He plopped down on the furniture and spotted the remote on the coffee table, passing it to you. You thanked him and turned the television on, the bright light illuminating the living space. 

“Whatcha wanna watch?” You asked, turning to Netflix. 

“Uh, scary movie? Or Anime? I could care less.” You nodded and searched for a horror film that you could both agree on, settling the remote on the coffee table. Not too long had passed before you were both cuddled up together, reclining the sofa so that neither of you would roll off by accident. You didn’t think you’d get so comfortable with a stranger, but there you were watching a horror movie with him while his arms were wrapped around your hips, pulling you into his touch. You’d be a fibber if you said you didn’t like it. 

“I hope you know I meant what I said. You’re cool as hell.” 

“Could say the same for you, Mr. Seven.” 

“Oh,” he teased, his lips close to your ear. “Am I Mister now?” 

“Depends. Do you wanna be called that?” 

Seven snickered, rubbing circles into your waist. A low groan escaped your lips, a small laugh following. Neither of you even cared about the movie anymore. 

“I guess that depends on what type of Mister you’re thinking of.” 

Chills ran down your spine and you smiled, slowly grinding yourself onto him. Seven’s breath hitched in his throat, a small chuckle following after. 

“That’s how we’re playing?” You didn’t respond, simply moaning while you continued grinding yourself against him. Seven gripped your hips tighter, rocking his hips against your ass. He pushed your hair out of the way, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. You let out a yelp, melting into his touch while his hips continued to move against your ass. You could feel him hardening, his tongue flicking against your skin. 

Seven groaned, sucking marks onto your innocent neck while you felt yourself getting lost in his touch. 

“Can I fuck you?” He whispered, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips again. You nodded, and before you knew it, he’d instantly had you on your back. 

“You know,” he started, grinning down at your defenseless body. “I did not think this was how tonight would play out. But I’m so glad it did.” He unbuckled his pants, pulling his cock free from his underwear. His cock sprung free, precum already bubbling at the tip. You licked your lips at the sight, feeling a surge of wetness rush through your pussy, wetting your white underwear. You shut your eyes tightly, your fingers finding their way to your underwear as something in your forced you to circle your clit through your panties. 

Seven spat on his hand, the mixture of saliva and precum slicking his cock enough. “That’s hot. Keep going.” He whispered, stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You whimpered, finger rubbing circles into your clothed clit while he jerked his hard cock, groaning at the your vulnerability. 

“Yeah, that’s good. So good. C’mon, take those pretty little panties off.” You weren’t hesitant at all, quickly sliding the panties down your ass. You’d never been fucked on your sofa before, oddly enough. You’d been fucked almost everywhere in your house but the time to do it on your sofa never really came up. You were glad, though, it was so hard to get comfortable on the black leather furniture. 

“Let me see that pretty pussy,” he muttered, pulling your dress up to your neck, the pink bra exposed under the fabric. Seven gripped your clothed tit before kneeling between your legs, leaning forward. 

“You’re so pretty. Your body’s so damn pretty. Everything about it. I don’t even remember his name, but he’s fuckin’ missing out.” 

He circled his wet tip against your clit, gathering some of your slick on his cock. You cried out. 

“Please, Seven, hurry.” 

“Are you rushing me? Bad girl.” He kissed the side of your lip before pushing against your entrance, sliding into the tight heat. You gasped, tears forming in your eyes from the painful stretch. It was probably helpful to mention how big Seven was. You almost couldn’t see from the constantly fading light of the television, but he was a good size. One you didn’t expect from someone so thin and lanky. Not that you weren’t appreciative or anything. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist as he bottomed out inside of you, waiting for a moment to move. 

“Tight.” He choked out, pulling out halfway before slamming back into you, grunting with each thrust. His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but you could care less, clenching around his constantly moving length. You cried out his name, tears falling from your eyes. 

Seven found a good pace to fuck you at, rocking his hips inside of you slowly while you adjusted to his large cock, pussy fluttering over him.

“Fuck yeah, baby. So good. So, so good. I could cum on the spot feeling you grip me like this.” 

You looked into his eyes, slamming your lips against his waiting ones without any thinking. Seven moaned into the exchange, pounding you as hard as he could while his tongue pushed past your opened lips, both of your tongues intertwined. Your velvet walls gripped his cock harder, causing the man to begin moaning, hips stuttering while he fucked into you. You felt like you were already on edge, rocking your hips against his. Your ears perked up and you yelped hearing your phone ring. 

Seven’s eyes darted over to the contact name, sweat dripping down his glistening forehead. 

‘Akira 💕…’ 

“Answer it,” he snarled, his pace never haulting. He was quicker, harder, as he fucked his cock into you, head constantly hitting against your special spot. You couldn’t help but moan, tears drying on your cheeks while fire spread inside of you, the overwhelming need to cum urging you on. You didn’t question him, simply reaching over to the coffee table to grab the device, answering it. 

“Yeah?” You put him on speaker. 

Seven’s eyes were cut, focusing on the conversation while pounding you. He gripped your waist tightly, stifling a moan. 

“Sorry I couldn’t make it. I don’t know, I don’t think we should be seeing each other anymore.” 

Your heart dropped at his words and your stomach churned. 

“Fuck yeah,” Seven moaned loudly, throwing his head back. His hands travelled lower, gripping your ass while his cock hit the hilt of your pussy over and over again. You were so close, almost there. 

“Who’s that?” Akira squeaked. 

“No one,” you moaned out, forgetting to even hold back by now. 

“Tell him. Tell him how good you feel. Go ahead, naughty girl. Tell him.” 

You felt more tears well in your eyes, fresh liquid dripping to your damp cheeks. 

“I feel so good, Seven. Please fuck me. Harder, please. So close. I’m gonna cum. Please,” you managed to get out, fucking yourself on his cock while holding the phone in your hand. Ever thrust felt like energy being launched into your body, electricity shocking you each time your pussy clenched on his cock, walls constantly being jabbed at. It felt so good. You were almost there. One more thrust. 

“I want you to feel good. Want you to feel so fucking good. Do you feel good? You feel good with my cock inside you? Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Gonna cum, Seven. Close.” 

“Okay. That’s okay. Go ahead, I’m close too, pretty girl.” By now, Akira had hung up, his own heart dropping to his feet as well. As long as he understood how you felt, it was okay. You were fine. You’d be fine like this. 

He sped up, sporadically whimpering sweet nothings as he pounded you through your orgasm, pussy fluttering around his length while you came, cum coating his dick. Seven screamed out, burying himself to the hilt inside of you while he came, shooting his load into your gaping heat. He collapsed on top of you, both of your breathing uneven. 

“Good. That was good,” you found a way to croak out, releasing your grip on his waist. He didn’t respond, only kissing your sweaty neck. 

“Good girl.” He said, cock still buried inside of you. You flushed at the nickname, whimpering. He waited again to speak when you’d both caught your breath, bodies still, simply enjoying the presence of the other. The television was still on, the movie was over now. It had probably been over for a while. 

“Maybe it's not the right time for this, but can I take you out next week?

[ticklishlasquadra]

Palm Reading Gone Wrong (or Maybe Right)

Fandom: it’s a bizarre one…

Character(s): Lee!Riso//tto, Ler!Forma//ggio

Summary: Forma//ggio wants to show Riso//tto something. Riso//tto instantly regrets it.

THIS IS A TICKLE FIC, YALL. It’s not nsfw and it’s not sexual, but if you don’t like? Don’t read. Okay? Okay. Good talk. Not much to say expect we need more palm tickling in the world.

Tagging @giggly-argent just because I know they enjoy ticklish!Ris. I guess this one is for you? :P

“What do you want?” Risotto asked with a heavy sigh. He stared at the mischievous man in front of his desk. Nothing good could come out of this.

“Yo, yo, what’s up, Rizzy!” Formaggio greeted in his usual loud, boisterous manner.

“Don’t call me that,” Risotto deadpanned, making Formaggio snort.

“Whatever you say, man. Hey, question! I learned this cool as shit thing from Illuso the other day and I was wondering if I could try it on ya.”

Risotto’s eyebrow quirked. “And why can’t you try it on any of the others?”

Formaggio huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because everyone is either busy or threatened to kill me if I tried anything.”

Risotto rolled his eyes. “Wow, I wonder why,” he said sarcastically.

“Come oooon, Ris, please? You’re really going to make a man beg here?”

The earnest look on Formaggio’s face made Risotto consider it for the briefest of moments. And if humoring the smaller man got him out of his hair, that was even better.

With another long, heavy sigh, Risotto finally relented. “Fine.” He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Formaggio grinned and started to reach over the desk. “Gimme your hand.”

Risotto blanched. “Why?” He wasn’t really the type to let people touch him so casually, especially his hands.

“Because I’m going to read your palm!” Formaggio exclaimed, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. He looked at Risotto expectantly.

“No, that is absolutely childish,” Risotto retorted, ignoring the small squirming sensation in his stomach.

“Come on, just let me do it once? Please? Please? Pleeeease?” Formaggio started begging, getting on Risotto’s nerves.

“Fine! Fine, just stop your ridiculous whining,” Risotto growled, finally holding out his hand and letting Formaggio take it.

“Hell yeah! Alright, so according to Illuso, there are like, lines and shit on your palms that are supposed to tell stuff about you and predict the future,” Formaggio explained as he touched the middle of Risotto’s palm.

Risotto’s fingers twitched at the light touch, but Formaggio didn’t seem to notice.

“Okay, so uh, this one,” Formaggio ran his fingertip over a line under Risotto’s fingers. “This is your heart line.” He then moved his finger over to the curve by the other man’s thumb. “This is your life line, and-“

Risotto flinched and tried to pull his hand back. He bit his tongue, a strange feeling bubbling in his throat.

“Hey,” Formaggio frowned, keeping a good grip on Risotto’s wrist. “You good, man?”

Risotto cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes. Your touch, it just…took me by surprise, is all.”

Formaggio looked at him, unconvinced. Risotto was never the type to be surprised by anything, no matter what was thrown his way. So the idea that a small touch like that caused such a reaction seemed unlikely.

“If you say so, man. Like I was saying…”

Formaggio kept going, skating his finger all over Risotto’s palm as he talked about something called a head line. The longer he went on, the less could Risotto could pay attention.

Itchy electricity sparked every time Formaggio moved his fingers, which was becoming more and more frequent as he kept talking. Risotto pressed his lips together, but that didn’t stop the barely there squeak that bubbled in his throat.

Formaggio suddenly stopped. “You okay?” he asked, giving him a once over. “I’m not hurtin’ ya, am I?”

Risotto put on a scowl. “Of course you’re not. Are you almost done?”

“Okay, okay, so here,” Formaggio’s blunt nails brushed against Risotto’s skin as he ran them down the length of his palm. “This is the fate line, and-“

A small snort caught Formaggio’s attention, and he couldn’t believe who it came from.

“Was that you, Ris??” Of course he knew it was him. Who else would it have been? “What’s wrong?”

Risotto immediately tried to regain his composure. “It’s nothing, it is just…” Don’t say the word, don’t say the word, don’t say the word.

“It itched.”

It itched. That was his excuse.

“Oh! Lu said that if you have itchy palms, it means things will change in your life!” After a beat of silence, realization started to set in.

“Wait…don’t tell me…” Formaggio’s lips turned upward. He tightened his grip on Risotto’s wrist before he started skittering all five fingers all over his capo’s palm.

Risotto couldn’t help the low chuckle that came out of his mouth. “St-ah-aha-p that this i-instant!” He tried to stutter.

“Oh my god, you’re ticklish!” Formaggio laughed right along with him, amused at this new development.

“I’m not, I-I’m-!” Risotto could only get that far before Formaggio zeroed in on the particularly sensitive spot underneath his fingers, drawing little circles and swirls with his nails. His laughter grew a bit louder, and he tried to cover his mouth with his free hand.

“Oh, you so are! What’s wrong, Rizzy, can’t take a little tickling on your hands? Come on, you’ve been through much worse!” Formaggio teased, loving the reactions he was getting.

“I am g-gohohoho-ing to k-kihihihill you,” Risotto threatened, but nothing could sound threatening when it came out through honest to god giggles.

Formaggio had never heard such a sound come from his capo, but he quickly decided it was his new favorite sound.

“Yeah, yeah, you can’t do shit when I got ya like this,” he cackled.

Risotto kept trying to close his hand, so Formaggio let go of Risotto’s wrist, only to quickly take hold of his fingers so he could bend them back just the slightest bit so he couldn’t move them.

“I didn’t think anyone could be that ticklish on their hands, but here you are! What about here?” Formaggio lightly scratched between two of Risotto’s fingers and he was rewarded with another gasping stream of laughter unable to be contained by Risotto’s hand over his own mouth.

“Woah, between your fingers too? You keep on surprising me, Rizzy,” Formaggio couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement as he relentlessly spidered his fingers over and between every patch of skin he could touch.

Risotto’s cheeks started to burn a soft pink. Out of all people, why did it have to be Formaggio who found out? He’d manage to keep it a secret this long. Turning down manicures under the guise of disinterest, wearing gloves when he needed to, making sure no one got close enough to touch his hands.

But now all that was for nothing.

“Okahahahay, now stahahap! Thahahat is an order!” Risotto commanded, his voice wobbly.

Formaggio’s face had smug written all over it as he finally relented and let go of Risotto’s hand. “Fine, fine.”

Risotto caught his breath. “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will murder-“

“Y’know, if you wanted to stop me, you could’ve just, y’know, used your other hand,” Formaggio pointed out with a grin.

Risotto’s cheeks reddened. “Get out.”

“But Riiiiis…”

“Out, now!” Now there was that terrifying rumble of a voice that struck fear into pretty much anyone. Formaggio definitely wasn’t immune to it. With a yelp, he scurried out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Risotto looked at his hand, which still felt a bit tingly. “Hmm.”

He had to figure out a way to get Formaggio to keep his mouth shut. Threatening usually worked, but maybe there was something more he could do.

An eye for an eye.

[geminidentitycrisis]

The Scent of Leather and Hairspray

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada x F!reader ONESHOT

(WARNINGS! - swearing)

---------

Sooooooo, I have a new favorite Pro, I guess haha

I hope you enjoy, and if you're underage, pretend you're older because I get it, I'd be Hot For Teacher too, but he's not a pedo sorry......

----------

You sighed as, upon exiting the store where you just purchased a frozen drink, the men you passed to enter that store started catcalling you. Just what you needed at the end of a rough day...

"Hey Honey, you'd be cuter if you smiled...!"

"Don't listen to that shit, babygirl, you're sexy as hell, c'mere and hang out a while...?"

Ignoring them the best you could, you kept walking, but they didn't take that very well. "You think you're too good for us, that it, stuck up bitch? Where you think you're goin'?"

You could hear their footsteps approaching behind you and turned to face them after sipping from your drink.

"Guys, please, I've had a hell of a day today and my quirk would probably scar you both for life and what do you say we just don't do this, huh?"

They exchanged glances before fixing you with threatening glares. "You think you're tough, babygirl? We'll see how tough you are when we get through teaching you some respect..." the first one said.

"HEY!"

A voice called from behind you and suddenly an arm was draped gently around your neck. You froze, being caught off guard tended to prompt a panic response when you were so tired.

You smelled leather and an overwhelming scent of hairspray.

"What's the trouble, my homies? Pretty sure ya heard the lady, she ain't jammin' to the vibe ya layin' down, ya dig? Beat it."

Heart skipping a beat or two, your eyes grew wide and a blush flooded your cheeks. "That voice...?!"

You whipped your head up to see the one and only Present Mic.

"Ah! I knew it! I knew I recognized your voice, I catch your radio show every day! You're the Sound Hero, Present Mic!" he flashed a grin down at you, winking.

"Oooh, you've got good ears, Listener! Thanks for Hypin' me up like that! Always great ta meet a FAAAN!" he responded in his commentator voice.

One of your would be tormentors interrupted angrily. "Hey, peacock head, why don't you mind your business?"

"PEACOCK...?! You boys best get ta steppin', aight?! Don't make me beat you up in fronta this pretty girl!" he replied in annoyance after his attention was so aggressively stolen from you.

The blush came back in full force and you couldn't contain a dreamy sigh as your lashes fluttered, eyes lidding contentedly now that you felt safe again.

*he said I was pretty~!* you thought.

"You believe this banana hair lookin' motherfucker? You're about to get your ass whooped, fruity!" the other threatened.

"Hey bro, watch your language! There's a lady here!" with the arm around your shoulders, Mic carefully raised it and guided you behind himself as the two started walking towards you both.

"Enough..."

Another voice came suddenly from the other side of the parking lot and everyone, with the exception of the blonde who was guarding you, turned to see Eraserhead.

Suddenly these jerks weren't so confident.

"Get lost, both of you, and go straight home or I'll bring the two of you in right now for loitering and harassment." he said calmly but with deep authority.

Mic crossed his arms, glaring at the duo as they ran off after a mere moment of hesitation, his cheeks puffed out slightly. "What a couple creepozoids! You okay, Pussy Cat...?" he quickly spun around to check you out, striking a dramatic pose while pointing at you, the trademark grin already back in place.

You smiled up at him with admiration sparkling in your eyes, clasping the cup you held in both hands and tight to your chest, stepping closer to him.

"Yes, thanks to you! You're my Hero~!"

Mic felt his own chest swell with pride a bit, the grin on his face getting bigger as he relaxed his stance and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

Usually by now the damsel has already flung herself on Aizawa, but not only were you praising him, you recognized him from just his voice and he was impressed at that.

"I can't believe I was just rescued by my favorite Pro, I am your #1 fan! Please, are you patrolling the city tonight? Please let me buy you a coffee or tea or something?? Just as a thank you...?"

Hizashi laughed rather loudly, one hand emerging from his pocket to be placed over his chest.

"HAHA! Aaaww, how can I say NO when you ask so sweetly?! Coffee sounds like a rockin' idea right about now!"

"Ugh, we don't have time for this, Mic..." Eraserhead complained tiredly.

Eyes rolling in exasperation, the blonde groaned twice as loud. "ugGHHH!! Don't be such a buzzkill, yo! I'll get you one, too, just chill!" with that, he trailed after you back into the store.

You watched as he doctored up the coffee you poured for him, blushing again when he threw a hint of a smirk your way, using the tip of his finger to lift the gold tinted shades he wore and showing you his emerald green eyes. "Don't worry, I'll pay for my boring friend..."

Smiling, you bounced on your heels. "Damn right you will, I'm not HIS fangirl, after all..."

This promoted a slight blush to his face, but he maintained that knockout grin. "Ha! Well, good thing his best friend is here at least, lucky for him I tagged along tonight, huh??"

"Lucky for both of us..." came your soft reply from over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, your hips swaying temptingly had definitely not escaped his notice.

He followed you to the checkout counter and placed some money beside yours, his ungloved fingertips brushing against your own when he does. Leaning down closer to you, he cocked his head, pushing his shades down his nose this time and raising a brow.

"Does my #1 fan have a name...?"

Your smile bloomed again, blushing up at him. "It's  _______...but I might prefer you calling me Pussy Cat...~"

Saying that last bit, you applied a sensual undertone which he picked up on instantly, making his blush spread over his face and grow darker as he chuckled in amusement.

When you guys walked out the door, you noticed Eraserhead seemed really annoyed but tried to ignore him, looking up at the Voice Hero hopefully.

"Listen, I know you're both busy, but if you have just one more second to spare, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me if I could get your autograph..."

Looking away awkwardly, he made a pained expression. "Aw, man, I dunno, we are kinda in a hurry here and stuff..."

You felt your heart sinking when he startled you with another loud laugh. "Hahaha, gotcha! JK! Of course I will, I ain't gonna leave ya hangin' like that, no way, that ain't my STYYYYYYYYLLLE!"

Giddy with excitement, you let out a tiny squeal, quickly fishing out a small notebook and pen from your purse as he set the cups down. When you handed it to him, his fingers brushed yours again, making you bite tenderly at your bottom lip.

They were so warm and soft...

He had started to whistle a cheerful little tune as he spun the pen between his fingers before starting to write in your book, it took longer than you expected, clearly longer than Eraser expected, too.

"Say goodbye to the girl, Mic, it's time to keep moving!" he didn't yell, exactly, too lazy, but he had raised his voice since last.

"YEAH, YEAH, I HEARD YA!!! Gimme a sec, ALRIGHT?!" the volume of the blonde's reply actually made your eardrums flinch and quiver this time, but you smiled anyway as he defended you again.

"There ya go! And hey, just to spite my buddy over there, I wouldn't mind walkin' ya home ta make sure ya get there safe."

The blush came right back, clutching the book to your heart, you gave a weak smile. "No, no, it's okay, really...I took up too much of your time already, and I only live around the corner from here..."

Eyes closing momentarily while you gathered yourself, you took a deep breath before confessing. "...I cannot express how grateful I am for you...not just for saving me tonight, but also for your talk show, hearing your voice over the radio gives me strength and motivation every week...it means the world to me...thank you..."

Beckoning him by flexing a finger, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek when he leaned in curiously.

Eyes widening, his whole face became scarlet red and his grin stretched from ear to ear. "AW, YEAH!"

He jumped, pumping his fists in the air and then proceeded to shoot you with his finger guns while  winking again. "Listen, I dropped my digits on that piece'a paper ya got there, Shawty...hit me up sometime if ya wanna chill! I'm down for whatever!"

You were caught off guard by that and checked the page he signed for you, finally reading what he wrote down as he rambled on as background noise about how he wasn't a creep like those other guys and you could say no without worrying about him making a scene, he just had to shoot his shot, I mean you DID kiss ME first ya know...

"For my #1 fan, _______...Thanks for the coffee and stay outta trouble! ...and maybe call or shoot a txt, if your feelin' this funky vibe, too? Live loud, Pussy Cat ;) don't ever let anyone try an put the mute on ya! XOXOX PRESENT MIC!!!"

Followed by his phone number, and there were little hearts drawn around the page.

You were already blushing when he surprised you again by returning your gesture and swooping in to plant a kiss on your cheek this time.

Reaching up to touch the spot, you smiled up at him shyly. "I can't wait...please be safe out there..."

"You got it! SEE YA SOON!" The Pro nodded vigorously, giving an enthusiastic wave of goodbye before grabbing his and Eraserhead's drinks, practically bouncing with every step.

It made you giggle, but you were trying not to get your hopes up too much. For all you knew, he gave his number out to every girl that asked him for a signature.

"Are you happy now...?" Shouta grumbled, taking the cup being offered as he turned to resume patrolling. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HECK YEAH I AM! I'M ON CLOUD NINE RIGHT NOW, I JUST MET MY FUTURE WIFE!!!!!!!!"

You heard him very clearly, the blush traveling all the way down your neck this time, and you couldn't help another small giggle, your heart fluttering with happiness like the wings of the butterflies in your belly.

He just had that effect on you.

Glancing down at the notebook in your hand as you sipped your quickly melting frosty, you noticed in the bottom right corner was a little arrow, below which was written the word "flip".

You looked up again but the two Pro Heroes were already gone.

Curiously, you flipped over the page.

MARRY ME?!?!!

a. YES!!!!!

b. a

c. b

That smooth sonuvabitch had you blushing and giggling all night.