#hes such a brat but i would burn the world down for my fucking dogs

[yeonjuns-beanie]

As It Was

warnings: 18+, weed usage, smut, unprotected sex, soulmate au(kind of), little hatefuckin before real fucking, reader is a brat, mentions of suicide, oral(f receiving, logan is an EATER), claws come out when he…, little bit of primal play, breeding kink, daddy kink, implied age gap cuz i think it’s hot, im prolly gonna write him like an animal, think that’s it!! LOL

Logan Howlett x female!reader

summary: after saving his world from extinction, wade brings home a wolverine. you feel a tether to him but can't quite figure out what it is, but logan does. as the days go by you slowly chip away at the wall between you two and things slowly return to as it was.

word count: 4.5k

title is inspired by the hozier song of the same name....

It’s been three months now and you still couldn’t figure out the pull you felt toward Logan. The moment Wade brought him through the door, Mary Puppins in hand, you felt a tie to him. Now, it was as if the Red String of Fate was punishing you for not remembering your connection with him. It was haunting, aggravating, and pushing you towards sexual frustration because no matter how much you tried to remember, your thoughts would instantly become clouded with your attraction to him. He was brooding, grumpy, and humorous when he wanted to. The stoic exterior of him was just that, a shell. You just weren’t quite sure how to crack his nut yet.

You were sat in the main room of the apartment grinding up some green to pack a morning bowl. As you were getting ready to fill the glass you heard Wade’s voice echo through the apartment.

“You always grind Aunt Mary so hard. Don’t you think she would like to be loved tenderly, sugarbear?”

“And the last time I gave you the grinder there might as well have been a whole nug in the bowl. You damn near burned half my stash.”

“You’d think living with three addicts would be fun, but it’s more like babysitting toddlers fighting to see who can ruin my day first. Spoiler: it’s everyone.”

You chuckled, slotting the bowl into the joint of the bong, and pointed at Wade with it.

“You wanna hit this or not?”

“‘Course I do. How could I pass up a wake n bake with my girl?”

Wade jogged over to you, plopping dramatically on the seat next to you. Rolling your eyes, you took the first hit letting Wade finish off the remaining smoke in the shaft. Exhaling you spoke while the smoke billowed out of your mouth.

“Wade, baby, I love you, but I’m not your girl. What about Nessa?”

Before he spoke, he had his coughing fit like clockwork. Every time, no matter the method, resulted in a cough so bad he looked like a drooling dog. It was free entertainment but you tried your hardest not to laugh out loud because every time you did, it made it worse.

You couldn’t hold it

It was like watching a court jester and when Wade finally caught his breath he was staring off at a wall in the apartment mindlessly reaching for the glass. When his hand was left fondling the air reaching nothing, you let your laugh echo through the apartment.

“You sure you want another one?”

“Just gimme the weed, gorgeous. And to answer your question. Vanessa and I are on a break of sorts, but I’m wounded that I now have lost you too. It’s cause I brought Peanut here isn’t it?”

Wade was feigning heartbreak, just busting your balls in an effort to see if you’d crack. Your relationship was always like this and that was probably why you two got along so well. Nothing was ever too serious and yet still completely vulnerable. As wild as he was, Wade was a safe space for you and for some reason this morning, you felt like sharing.

“Perhaps.”

His head whipped so fast you thought it’d fly off. Coupled with his dramatic gasp and chest grab you nearly regretted your admission.

“I knew it!”

“Will you keep it down, it’s not that serious.”

“Au contraire. This is probably the most serious thing since Blind Al ran out of Peruvian marching powder.”

Rolling your eyes, you swallowed your pride as you knew Wade wouldn’t let it go until you told him every detail possible. As much as you pretended you hated divulging this information, it was kinda nice to let out to somebody. You’d been wrestling with so many feelings since Wade brought Logan to stay with you guys and the weight of it was becoming painful.

“Well, he’s hot obviously.”

“Tell me something more interesting, we all disrespectfully gawk at the honey badger.” Wade quipped.

“The problem is I feel this weird attachment to him. Like I’ve known him before. Maybe we met before they tried their best to wipe my memory, but I can’t shake this one. I’m drawn to him but he won’t let anyone get close enough to figure that out.”

You had your own run-in with the TVA a few years ago and instead of dumping you into the void, they were nice enough to plop you in Earth-10005. You were grateful considering the stories of this barren garbage heap that Wade and Logan told you about but you couldn’t remember why they sent you here in the first place.

You had no real memory of your life before this or what you did that fucked you up so badly. It always haunted you. Maybe you were a murderer. A merciless killer and that’s why they snagged you. A similar fate to Wade’s but they decided somewhere that you weren’t equipped for the job and the TVA orphaned you to another universe.

You weren’t complaining, you loved the life that you had now you just wanted to remember the rest of you. You were roaming this universe, a husk of your former self and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t bother you, it did. It kept you up at night. Until Logan walked through the apartment door.

Slowly, things started to reveal themselves to you but only in a dream. You were forced to piece together your life with the shattered fragments of what your dreamscape gave you to work with. You’d wake up from the most vivid dreams only to remember one instance where you were walking down a street, the sky pouring rain in a godly attempt to cleanse you. Your hands were always coated in crimson when you looked down.

It’d come in flashes and it’d end just as fast. You were patient with yourself but a lot of times you tried to drown out the feeling with various substances. Weed being your vice of choice as alcohol made you suffer. Making you wish that an attempt of self-mutilation or the bittersweet release of dancing with death while your wrists stained the floor garnet succeeded.

They never did.

So you tried your best to make peace with your life and you were doing alright until Logan showed up. Now the universe was mocking you. Testing to see if you’d slip up and forget everything you learned.

“I think he’d like to figure you out, y/n. Do with that what you will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wade shrugged his shoulders handing you the bong back. As he stood up you took one last hit and left the glass piece on the table. As you exhaled, Logan’s voice pierced through the silence.

“Jesus. D’ya have to stink up the apartment with that shit? Can’t go outside?”

“Easy, peanut. The art of the wake n bake is sacred. Plus, talk to the gardener if you have requests to make, not me.”

Wade pointed to you as he wandered off into the kitchen and you reached for the bong motioning it to Logan.

“Wanna hit?”

Logan hit you with a short ‘no’ and it almost hurt your feelings. Your gaze flicked over to Wade who was mouthing to you something you couldn’t quite make out but he was pointing to Logan while doing it. Your brain spazzed for a moment before coming up with a response as you stood.

“You want coffee or something, Lo?”

“Sure, kid.”

You walked into the kitchen with Wade and started whispering to him.

“What the fuck? Of course, he comes out while I’m blowing up the house.”

“I don’t see why you’re worried, he doesn’t seem upset.”

You turned around trying your best not to look suspicious.

“Yes, the fuck he does. I’m gonna fuck this up before I even get the chance to start-”

“-You two morons know I can hear you, right?”

You hung your head in defeat finishing up the two cups before setting one in front of Logan and holding yours while you stood. The air was thick, but not uncomfortable. It just felt like everyone needed to get something off their chest and didn’t know how to start. Before you opened your mouth to speak, Wade’s voice cut you off while he sent a text message.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you lovebirds to it. I’ve got a pegging date.”

Again. Mocking you. The universe seemed to just have it out for you and apparently, today was the day of honesty. You took a seat across from Logan wondering where to direct the conversation.

“You hungry? I can make us something.”

“I’m alright kid, not too keen on stoner food in the morning.”

“Hey, I’m still a good cook when I’m cooked. I just wanted to offer.” You paused.

“Also if you have a problem with it, I’ll find a new spot. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“No need. Just giving you guys a hard time. We all have something to cope with our shit.”

You nodded knowing he was referencing his drinking habit, or problem if we were feeling honest. You left your coffee cup on the table and stood up, wanting to Irish goodbye in your own home. But you didn’t want to add any more bricks to this wall even though it felt like the silence was already doing so.

“Well, um. I’m gonna chill out for a bit in my room if you need anything.”

He hummed to let you know he heard you and you walked down the hallway to your bedroom before stopping in your tracks. Something possessed you and you had to get this out. The test was walking away and if you finished that journey into your bedroom and locked the door, nothing would be resolved. Turning on your heel, you walked back into the kitchen and faced Logan.

“Why do you hate me?”

He nearly choked on his coffee, the noise echoing in the cup.

“What?”

You sighed, trying to not feel silly about your admission.

“Why do you hate me? And if you don’t, why do you act like it? It’s so hard to get through to you and it feels like I’m talking to a fucking wall.”

“Kid-”

“And stop ‘kid’ing me! If it’s out of endearment it doesn’t feel like it.”

Your heart rate was rising and you could feel your skin getting hot. The months of pent up emotions were finally boiling over and you couldn’t stop it. You needed to know why.

“What is it then, y/n?”

“Why can’t I get through to you? Every time I try, you shut me down by being curt with me and I’m left with the same feeling as before. I can’t shake this feeling that I know you and I can’t even get close to you without you shoving me away like I have a fatal disease. So why, Logan? All I wanna know is why?”

He sighed knowing there was no easy way to escape this.

“Kid–sorry. It’s complicated. I know that feeling. I feel it too, but I know why it’s there and I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

Again?

“What do you mean again?”

Logan sighed and said nothing. Hanging his head in what you thought was shame but most definitely could be avoidance. It frustrated you even more so because why couldn’t he just talk to you?

“Here we go again, nothing?! Is it so hard to just say what this is?”

“It’s not that simple, bub.”

You scoffed and turned around to walk to your room. You needed to clear your head because it was more than apparent that a solution would not be provided for you. Logan didn’t have the courage to reveal what he knew so a walk away from him would have to suffice.

“Y/n! Where are you going?”

“I need to clear my head since obviously you don’t have the gall to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Slipping your shoes on, you tried to move past Logan but he was blocking the doorway.

“Move.”

“Y/n. Just-”

“I said move, Logan.”

One wall after another you kept hitting, except this one was physically him. He nearly filled up the doorway and his frame was imposing. You tried to figure out how you’d slip past him but you were so heated that you were about to settle for dramatics before he moved his body just enough for you to slip past. You stared at him, looking for something in his eyes to tell you to stay but it just made you more irritated. You walked down the hallway and almost made it to the door before you felt his hand wrap around your wrist.

“Do you get a kick out of torturing me or something?”

“Sweetheart, if you just—just sit down and let me say what I need to say.”

“Oh, now you wanna fucking talk. Let go of me. I’m not in the mood to talk anymore.”

Logan’s grip on you tightened as you struggled against him and you pushed on his chest trying to get him off of you. He was stunned by your actions and so were you but you couldn’t stop. You kept pushing him away from you until he grabbed your upper arms stabilizing you but you still were pressing your hands against his chest. He was calling your name trying to calm you down but you were too lost in your emotions. You thrashed your head up, trying to plead with him silently to let you go even though you knew that was the last thing you wanted.

When your eyes met his, one of his hands cradled the back of your head and before you could register it, his lips were slotted against yours in a moment of desire and exasperation. Bated breath, fury, and sexual confusion fueled the kiss but you’d be a liar to say you didn’t enjoy this feeling. His body flesh against yours, the heat bouncing between the two of you nearly suffocating and it had only been seconds. Logan had you pressed against the wall his hands roaming the curves of your body and his knee slotted itself in between your thighs, completely caging you against him.

He pushed his knee up into the apex of your thighs applying a delicate pressure to your center. You moaned against him, your body rolling your hips into the feeling. His hands were roaming over your body in a frenzy, like if he didn’t touch you fast enough you’d disappear. Your hands wrapped into his hair, pulling on his sandy brown locks as you tried to stabilize yourself into the feeling.

Logan pulled away from you, a string of spit the only thing left connecting you two until it broke and you felt the cold air vaporize the heat on your swollen lips. You were staring at his features, locked in his gaze hoping that if you didn’t break eye contact he’d stay right here. His gruff voice broke the heady silence.

“Since you wanna be a brat and not talk anymore, I have no choice but to show you how I feel, sugar.”

Logan slid his hands down until they were underneath the swell of your ass and told you to jump. As your legs wrapped around his waist, he walked down the hallway to your room. His senses were incredibly heightened at this moment and when he breached the threshold of your room, he was intoxicated by the smell of you swirling the room.

As he laid you down on your bed, your scent wafted off of the sheets with a gentle breeze and he was soon surrounded by a nest of you and your arousal. He prowled over your body, taking you in and memorizing every inch of you, how you were restless against him, and how your lower half mindlessly moved against him in desperate need of some sort of friction.

He uttered a low growl against you as he snaked up to your neck leaving a string of hot kisses against your skin. The scruff of his beard nearly overstimulated you and had you clawing at his skin, frantic in your efforts, soft moans escaped your lips in wordless need of feeling something more.

“Don’t wanna talk but I got you whimpering for me, huh princess?”

“Lo-”

“Shh, baby. I got you.”

Logan bit your ear, pulling at the skin before he tugged at the bottom of your shirt and you lifted your back just enough so that he could slip it off of you. Your upper body was fully exposed to him as your tits pancaked on your chest. As he lowered his face back down to your body, he trailed down your skin with his nose inhaling every last inch of you. The action was so subdued in comparison to the rest of his demeanor that you got completely lost in the feeling.

As his face met your stomach, the scent of your arousal was incredibly inebriating, deluging his mind with salacity. He traced the waistband of your shorts with his nose, encasing his teeth around the elastic piece of fabric before replacing his mouth with his hands as he languidly pulled them down your legs. Tossing them across the room he looked up at you.

“You want this?”

“Please.” You mewled out.

Logan shoved his nose against your panties inhaling your scent before rubbing your bud through the fabric as he came back up your body to capture your lips in a searing kiss. He pulled your panties from your body, your slick stretching as the fabric left your messy lips. The cool air was welcomed but was soon replaced by the warmth of Logan’s mouth against your petals.

He lapped at you like a dog. A wanton primal need taking over his senses. He wanted to be enveloped in you and you in him. In every timeline, he’d claim you and this one was no different. You tangled your hands in his hair, rolling your pussy into his face as he sloppily ate you out. His hands were wrapped around your hips holding you in place as he greedily drank you in.

You could feel the spit dripping down your folds and forming a cool pool of fervour beneath your skin. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy you could feel your orgasm begin to settle in your lower stomach, heat rippling across your skin. Your moans increased in frequency but became more breathy in nature as you came closer to your high.

Logan’s hand snaked up your curves and his fingers teased your nipples, pulling and pinching at the sensitive skin as he felt your body grow more tense with desire. Dragging his calloused hands down your body one last time, he inserted a finger into your wet, libertine cavern and you sucked him in with need. The stretch of him adding a second finger pushing you right to your edge as he curled them inside of you.

“Lo- I’m gonna-”

“I know, sugar. Let it out. Lemme hear you”

He immediately put his tongue back on your clit, and let you ride out your high against his face. Your moans gained volume completely immersed in the pleasure. When the ripples of euphoria finally dwindled, you looked down at Logan and pulled him up to your face so you could kiss him. The tang of your sex was still present on his lips and it ignited something within you.

“You got too many fuckin clothes on, Daddy.”

You were breathless. Lost in a licentious rhapsody as you had him hovering over your body and when Logan paused his movements to look at you, you thought you ruined the moment. He could smell the change in you and spoke before you had the chance to apologize for nothing.

“Say it again.”

He could feel you heartbeat pounding in your chest, arousal returning to the forefront of your mind.

“Wanna see you. Feel all of you, Daddy.”

Your voice was dripping sex, his personal psychedelic. He freed himself from his beater and you palmed his bulge through his sweats. Slipping your hand past the waistband, you stroked his heavy cock.

“Lemme make you feel good.”

You were getting ready to flip your bodies over, but Logan pinned you to the bed his eyes boring through you. You felt so small underneath him, like he could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him. When he spoke he broke you from the trance.

“Another time, sweetheart. This is about showing you how I feel about you since my baby needs me to spell it out for her.”

Slipping out of his sweats his cock was on full display, so heavy that it didn’t have the spring to bounce against his stomach. It hung in front of him, heady and in desperate need to be inside of you. Precum and prurience leaked from his tip. Logan crawled on top of you, the tip of his cock rubbing between your folds, coating your slick across his shaft.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You squeezed around nothing, the action not going unnoticed by Logan. You mewled against him, just wanting him to ravish you in every way possible. You wanted to be marked, for everyone to see that you belonged to him but you couldn’t find the words to articulate this feeling while this sexual heat was radiating off of your bodies and numbing your mind.

Logan slowly pushed his tip into your rapt cunt before pulling it out and sliding it against your clit. The withdrawal of pleasure bringing you to your senses.

“I want you to make me yours. Wanna belong to you, Lo.”

You were wanton with need. The desire for him became nearly unbearable and it was all soon resolved as he pushed his cock past your pious walls, defiling you of any innocence you had left. You wanted to be claimed, he’d claim you. Animal instinct took over as he rocked his hips into your cunt, your walls fluttering around him in ardor. Low growls left his throat as he nipped at the skin on your neck, alternating between kissing the marks and swiping them with his tongue. He was marking you, making you his own.

It was like he couldn’t get close enough to you as he thrusted into you. His arms wrapped around your body as you fell limp to the pleasure. You felt another orgasm on the horizon and you tried your best to warn Logan by sinking your nails into his back, leaving red trails of morbid desire to mark him as yours. You didn’t realize the amount of pressure you were putting on his skin, but the groans that left him had that concern pushed to the back of your mind. Your orgasm washed over you and your pussy squeezed so tight around him that you nearly pushed him out of you. You were entranced, drunk on him and his cock, still desperate for more.

It was like he could hear your thoughts because as soon as you thought of a second round, Logan was flipping you on your hands and knees and you arched your back as he rubbed his hand along the small of it, accentuating your arch. His cock filled your sugared walls one more time and as he buried himself to the hilt. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he brought your body flesh against his.

“Gonna fuckin breed you. Never gonna forget you who belong to, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the preemptive squeezing of his cock at the mention of him breeding you. The thought of him filling you with all of him was grossly erotic and Logan took the chance to taunt you.

“Oh? You like that, huh? Want daddy to breed your pretty little pussy?”

You hummed, your eyes lidded as you tried to see him over your shoulder. Sweat was sticking your bodies together and you only noticed how hot it was between the two of you when he pushed your body forward, cool air hitting your back as he began to mold your cunt to the shape of his cock. His tip was kissing your cervix and repeatedly hit that spot deep inside of you that made you squirm against his body.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy, his breaths ragged and you could feel your third orgasm of the night creeping on you. Low growls complimented the whimpers that were leaving your mouth and being somewhat muffled by the fabric of your sheets. You couldn’t hold his hips against you to ensure that he stayed inside so you just whimpered out a small ‘inside’ as you felt your orgasm begin to wash over your body.

Logan wasn’t far behind, one hand resting on your hips and his other by your head steadying himself above you. Sinking his teeth into your neck, you cried out in avidity and rapture filled his veins before painting his seed across your walls. You heard a faint schwing and as you opened your eyes, you saw that his claws were extended. As you moved your hips back into him to fuck you through the rest of your high, you accidentally nicked yourself on one of his blades. He hissed against you uttering a strained ‘don’t move’ as the luxuria dissipated in his body.

As he calmed down, his claws retracted back into skin and he gently rolled you over to gaze over your features. He moved a few sweat-stricken pieces of hair off of your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, which was such a contrast from before. Pulling out of you he pushed himself off the bed.

“Be right back.”

Returning with a warm towel, he cleaned you up and grabbed a shirt from one of your drawers waiting for you to put it in before sliding next to you in the bed. You curled into him, tracing patterns into his chest. Looking up at him, you felt none of the tension from before in the room and you decided that this would be the time.

“So, what did you mean by ‘again’ earlier?”

Logan sighed but not out of exasperation like it was earlier, it was softer this time.

“In my world, we were together. That’s the pull you feel. But in like so many other areas in that timeline, I fucked up and I lost you. I’d rather have kept you at a distance than not have you at all, but I fucked that up too, now.”

He laughed the last bit out, a touch of humor apparent in his delivery. Sighing, you felt like something could work here between the two of you.

“Well, whenever you’re ready to tell me what happened between your timeline’s me and you, I’ll wait patiently for it. But until then, know that you’re not losing me here. I’m yours as long as you want me.”

You didn’t expect a response from him, nor did you feel like you really needed one. You wanted to relish in this moment between the two of you and soon enough sleep overtook both of your forms.

© yeonjuns-beanie '24

~Just as it was, baby Before the otherness came And I knew its name The love, the dark, the light, the flame~

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Sip the gossip (drink till you choke)

Sip the gossip, burn down your throat

When Jingyi, Zizhen and Sizhui joined Jin Ling at the newly opened bar near Jinlintai after the discussion conference, last thing they expect was to find him frowning so deeply that he appeared murderous, fingers gripping his cup hard enough to crack it.

"You okay?" Jingyi asked as he flagged down a waitress for some more wine and snacks. "Did someone mess with you or something? I can pretend I'm drunk and beat them up for you."

"No." And Jin Ling eyes darken even more for a moment, his attention drawn somewhere else. "Shut up and listen."

Everyone focuses in on the conversation happened at the table to their right. Two men, one fat and the other stick thin, draped in so much fake jewelry that their skin was beginning to turn green.

"Heavens, what is this world coming to?" The fat one shouted, downing a large cup of alcohol, "Inviting that disgraceful murderer to the discussion conference as if he hadn't been the one nursing Wen dogs all those years ago! Such scum to share space with us, fine people! Why don't they invite other criminals too?! My brother's been locked up for decades for an accidental killing, he deserves to be heard more than that Yiling Laozu!"

"And he's being so liberal around Hanguang-Jun too!" The skinny one completes, finishing his own wine jar and ordering another, "Such whorish behaviors, even for a cutsleeve! And nobody dares say anything! Not even Zewu-Jun! He lets them do whatever, I bet he'd say nothing if they began fucking in the middle of the conference hall!"

"Disgusting! Who does he think he is, flaunting like he doesn't have our families' blood on his hands?! I should just kill him myself and rid the world of that evil again!" The fat one shouts, hitting his fist against the table loud enough for the dishes to clank together. "And burn down that monster of his too, the Ghost General! My God, a Wen dog allowed among us! Treated the same as us!"

"You're telling me! He acts all modest and innocent, but we all know who he's killed! How does Sect Leader Jin tolerate his existence? His father must be rolling in his grave!"

"His mother too! The Yiling Laozu killed her, yet her son is acting so familial with him! Even Sect Leader Jiang says nothing! What kind of an uncle is that?! Did he not care about his own sister at all?!"

"What could he even do? The Lans coddle the Yiling Laozu like he's their most prized possession! And Sect Leader Jin's just some brat that got put on a throne, what does he know? I bet the Yiling Laozu is manipulating him and waiting to take over the Jin sect himself! Isn't he in the body of one of Jin Guangshan's half sons? It would be the perfect pretext!"

"I don't know how everyone is okay with all this! Didn't we risk put lives storming the Burial Mounds decades ago to kill the Yiling Laozu?! We're all supposed to protect him and love him now?! Ridiculous!"

"You know everyone else thinks the same! But they're too scared of the Lans! They've gained so much power recently, all those new disciples they've adopted out of nowhere... orphans! And they're taught by the Yiling Laozu... how does Lan Qiren tolerate this heresy?!"

"Terrible, terrible world we live in! Imagine, me, a sect leader, getting scolded by some Lan junior! All because I said-"

"It was because you are a prejudiced, small-minded, overly privileged piece of shit that became so insufferable someone had to speak up." Jin Ling loudly intervened, unable to take anymore of the tirade. He walked up to the neighboring table and delighted in the horrified looks of the two men. "And you should be glad it was a Lan and not me because as bratty as you lot think I am, I am equal parts as powerful and I could have had you sent into the dungeons with a look."

"If you insist on being detestable in public," Sizhui started, icy anger in his eyes that looked so much like Wen Ruohan's that the two men nearly got war flashbacks, "make sure the people you speak ill of aren't within earshot. This is a bar, and alcohol is being consumed here. Inhibitions are lowered and emotions run high." And he draws his blade out of its sheath just enough for the glare to shine in the men's eyes. "It would be most unpleasant to ruin this establishment's new furniture with bloodstains."

"And anyway," Zizhen added, smiling dangerously, "not everybody is up for hearing all this vitriol. If this is how you think of your generations' most respectable and most powerful members, you must not be that intelligent or useful to maintain relations with either. My father will be hearing about this, what is the point wasting our sect's resources for the likes of you?"

"I'm nowhere near as elegant as my friends over here, so heed my warning. Talk shit of anyone from the Lan sect, which, mind youm includes Senior Wei and the Ghost General, and I'll have you delivered to the Lan sect's punishment quarters myself. Hanguang-Jun will gladly take care of the rest after, and I'll thoroughly enjoy watching." Jingyi spoke, his voice so low and threatening that it made even his friend's skin prickle with fear. He also took the wine jars off the men's table and sent them a glare. "This is for the trouble. On your tab."

They nodded and quickly scampered off.

The four friends began laughing and high-fiving each other immediately after, sharing alcohol and memories the entire rest of the night.

[timetoddddavis]

jirou x otoya

chase x gou

ankh x eiji

for ship asks?

This took me a little longer to get to, sorry!!

-Jiro and Otoya

Does it made sense? Yeah, like, more than I expected, watching Kiva. As I said when I was watching it, Jiro wants to speedrun Fuck Marry Kill with Otoya. If Jiro could fuck Otoya to death, dismember and spatter him across the walls, and then Otoya'd just pop back like a toon for Jiro to curl up around and wuffle tenderly against his neck? And they could do it all again tomorrow? Like, that would be the perfect world for Jiro. And Otoya, for his part, is so… like ok he's written with all the fun 2008 homophobia that Mister Inoue could muster but I truly feel like Otoya would/has fucked men, and he'd just say it didn't count, or like, that he's not gay because he's… receiving, or because he's topping, or because any number of reasons that would all be really dumb and contradictory. Otoya makes an excellent dog toy, I don't know, and he's a brat, and like they would be so mad at each other the whole time but like… yeah?? Otoya would love to tease Jiro until he got punished?? And then get one over on him and then they can do it all again?? Does it compel me? Yeah. I've read an AWFUL LOT OF IT, but I cannot see myself writing it.

-Chase and Gou

So, like, within the framework we have: Gou is canon bi. Gou wants to take Chase on dates. Gou has incredibly deep, complicated feelings about Chase. Gou and Chase have been like… spiritually… merged? And that (among other things) made Gou want to live for the first time in a long time. I have complicated feelings about GouChase, in the same way I have complicated feelings about Drive in general. Gou is tortured, like truly tortured, and makes horrible decisions all the time because of it. In a sense, he and Krim are on the same mission, kill all of the monsters that they made as a way of atoning for creating them. Gou obviously didn't create them himself, but he's so obsessed with his absent, abusive father that he connects himself to that guilt. (His obsession also leads him to trusting Banno, he wants approval SO BAD, it doesn't matter if his dad is a monster, the boy wants to be loved by his dad.) And I find this incredibly compelling, as a story and a character. Gou is neglected! He's abused! He's passively suicidal! He's making bad choices because NO ONE IS HELPING HIM! And it's consistent! It's good characterization! The dude is fucked up and not coming down off his hill because if he admits he was wrong Enter Chase, the one guy who is helping him. The guy who stands there and listens and prevents Gou from burning it all down and takes all of the rage Gou throws at him because he wants to be here. He wants Gou to be stable. He wants Gou to be Ok. He loves and protects him as a human being, even if Gou doesn't care about himself. I see the romance, in that. I see the appeal of 'it's rotten work, but not to me', here. And I could see my way to the idea that Gou has Uncomfortable Sexual Tension with the guy he hates, leading to romantic feelings for Chase due to his intense guilt post series. I've read some GouChase, and I've enjoyed it, but like… once they get together all the interesting parts are kinda… over for me? Their relationship is too interesting as an angst-ridden emotional exploration of a deeply traumatized individual to flatten it out into 'they live happily ever after'. AND FURTHERMORE… I just don't think Chase sees him that way. He wants to be with him? But I don't know that it's… really about that. Again, that feels like flattening out the nuances of their dynamic. And further furthermore, I actually think Chase is ace. I think all of the Roidmudes are on the ace spectrum, actually. So to sum up, I get the math it took to get here, but for me it Doesn't Make Sense, and it Does Not Compel Me. I… hope that makes sense. I apparently have a lot to say about them.

-Ankh and Eiji

I went into this in another ship meme once upon a time, so I'll be brief but basically… I get it, but it's not for me. I just don't see them as having the time or the emotional intelligence to actually be vulnerable enough to explore any kind of romantic/sexual attraction they may have had for each other. For me, that's compelling enough! Two people who care about each other in spite of their situation but never had the time to get into it? The intense tragedy of that? Of not having enough time, of always thinking you had tomorrow until all your tomorrows were gone?? That's delicious. I like that more than the idea that they were smoochin' between the scenes. So… Makes Sense, in that I see why it's so popular. Doesn't Compel Me, in that I genuinely just don't ship it.

[cowboycoma]

GUYS I FORGOT TO SHOW YOU WHEATLEY

[angelatsumu]

gala (m. izuku & b. katsuki)

hello friends! it's been a while, but i am back with some bakugo/izuku x reader food <3

warnings: NSFW! minors DNI or i will eat your whole family. fem!bodied reader, izuku called izzy, izzy calls reader puppy, cucking, thigh riding, m! masturbation, oral (f! giving), cumeating, mean bakugo, dom!izuku & dom!bakugo, very subby!reader, alcohol mention

NSFW under the cut, also not proofread <3

katsuki is not the nicest guy when his gorgeous girl is being so clingy to Deku

your giggle rings through his ears as he watches from across the room, the way you clung to Izuku's arm like a fragile doll was driving him mad. that dress hugged your curves too tight, inching up your side with every keen into izuku, and without thinking he'd slide his hand down and adjust it for you, hands ghosting over your curves. he knew what he was doing, having pro-hero Dynamight's special girl draped over his arm like some prize, some prize he hadn't truly won. katsuki's blood was boiling, but he knew he couldn't cause a scene. after all, Deku had mentioned the gala to him, and he seemed disinterested. when you brought it up, begging to be taken to your first hero gala, he brushed you off, claiming he didn't want to show you off to the world just yet. so, here you were, Deku's prize for the evening. knowing you decided to go with his comrade, Bakugo swore he would only go to the gala to be sure you were safe, that he wouldn't get jealous. the seething was telling a different story.

your emerald ballroom gown that hugged your curves so tightly got hitched on the swell of your thighs once more, catching enough to displace the thigh slit just enough for Deku to blush. once again his hand snaked around your hips, tugging the dress down only slightly, and this time his hand held its place on your hip. a blush rose to your cheeks as your sipped from the champagne flute in your hand, eyes scanning the room for your lover. you knew katsuki too well, and you knew he would be at the event the moment you agreed to Deku's invitation. your eyes met his, and he cut his eyes at you before rolling them. you immediately divert your attention back to Deku as he squeezed you closer to him, clearly aware of your boyfriend's presence. Izuku's touch made you feel hot, the lingering circles he traced into your hips with each flirtacious giggle and stolen glance. you'd be lying if your senses weren't intoxicated on Izuku's hero demeanor, finding yourself at the end of this desire to be saved by Deku.

"how 'bout some water, puppy? you've had quite a few of those." the comment itself was innocent, but the thing that caught you off guard was the nickname that made your knees buckle. he knew, the sly smirk as he handed you a glass of water told it all. "hm, o-okay," you gasped softly, taking the water from him and having a few sips to clear your head. Deku's left hand never leaves your side as he watches you, drinking in your reaction to his words. you felt hot, like you were boiling under your skin. bakugo felt the same, more than aware fo the effects Deku had on his girl. still, he waited. bakugo was amazing at playing the long game, more than willing to edge you for hours to get a point across. still, tonight, watching your hands linger on Deku's chest, eyes gazing into his lustfully, chest heaving at the mere charisma of his friend, he knew something more than edging needed to be done.

just as you were collecting your thoughts from the gutter, deku reaches into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. he grins when he sees the caller and immediately answers. "i knew you couldn't stay away," he starts, eyes scanning the room for your lover. he sighs contently when they lock eyes, listening to your lover's undeciphered words on the other line. "oh, i fully intend to," he remarks, a sly chuckle leaving his lips as he placed his phone back in his pocket. you look to deku with confused eyes, and he beams down at you, squeezing your hip an inch tighter. "puppy, we have business to attend to," he whispered in your ear, placing a chaste kiss against the shell of your ear. you blush deeper, nodding your head slowly and allowing him to lead you from the middle of the ballroom. he ushers you to the elevator, insisting he needed to stop at his hotel room before continuing the evening.

deku has you pressed against the door of his hotel room within seconds of entering, his knee coming between your legs to spread them apart. his lips immediately speckle kisses along your neck, moans leaving your lips. "i-izzy, please," you whine, eyes screwing closed as your curse yourself for allowing your resolve to fade. "i love it when you call me that, doll," he groaned against your skin, large hands roaming your body and settling one on your breast the other on your hip. "call him it again, teddy~". your eyes spring open as you crane your neck to see your beloved boyfriend sitting with his legs crossed in the chair adjacent to the window. deku lets out a groan against your skin, groping your breast over the gown as his presses his thigh into the gap between your legs. "you couldn't just stay quiet for another minute, huh, kacchan?" izuku grins against your skin, feeling your breath hitch as you realize your beloved boys had set you up once again. "daddy wants to watch, teddy. be good to izzy," katsuki scolds you and your cunny throbs at the command. deku's hands reach to bunch up your dress around your waist to reveal you had opted out of panties for the evening, and both boys let out a soft groan. "so you planned on fucking him anyway, huh slut?" deku directs his attention to katsuki, shooting him a warning glare as katsuki holds the menacing, shit-eating grin he normally held.

deku turns back to you lovingly, sliding you onto his thigh so that your bare cunny throbs against his toned muscle. he stood there, entranced by your overwhelmed expression as you worked your hips on his thigh, desperately seeking any stimulation to your swollen clit. "getting your mess all over my emerald suit, puppy~" he teased, earning a chuckle from katsuki. your eyes closed softly as your form subconsciously clung to izuku while you chased your release. you could feel their eyes burning into your skin, and that made your blood run even hotter. deku scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the mattress where he sat on the edge of the bed, sliding his thigh between your legs once more. he held your hips in place to halt your movement, left hand reaching to pinch your cheeks and make you look at him. "i want you to make a mess of my expensive pants, and then, you'll do the same for daddy, okay?" your eyes scan his face for any semblance of joking but found nothing. you sighed, realizing you were in for the longest ride of your life. you nod softly, beginning to work your hips over his toned thigh once more. your cunny dragged against the soft material of his slacks, the texture making your body tense with each roll of your hips. deku took the opportunity to slip your dress off of your shoulders, freeing your breasts for his lips to caress. izuku brought his tongue across your left nipple, sending a chill up your spine as he began circling and nipping at the sensitive bud. "izzy~" you whined, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to bend under the pressure of the brewing pleasure. you could hear the sound of skin slapping, and went to turn your head when izzy's hand stopped you, holding your head in place. "you look at me when you cum, bitch," he grunted, sending your body into a frenzy as your high approached. you bucked your hips faster against him, clit catching the ridges of his slacks with every haphazard rock. his words rang through your ears alongside the grunts from your beloved boyfriend's mouth, and you overheated, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. "good girl," deku grinned, helping you rock your hips through your high as your body slumped over him. when he was content, izuku's movements of your hips stopped, and he held you close to him as you took your time recovering.

once the heave of your chest slowed down a bit, izuku placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, but you craned your neck, whining incoherently about your lips. you needed the intimacy, even if you knew katsuki never let you kiss izuku, saying it was only meant for him. "what's this? puppy wants a kiss?" Izuku's sly eyes cut to Katsuki who crinkles his nose in disbelief, resolving on being meaner to you than had been originally planned. Izuku places a sweet, gentle kiss to your lips and you melt into his touch again, feeling the fire inside you reignite. without a second thought, katsuki had stood and scooped you out of izuku's lap, bringing you over to his chair where he'd been angrily steeping.

"you're not cumming anymore, so I hope that was worth it," katsuki groans, shoving you to your knees. "aw kacchan, come on-" 'shut up. she's my brat, and I decide when she's lost her privilege to cum'. you shiver at the idea of katsuki using your throat and leaving you high and dry. he takes his cock out of his pants, swollen pink tip oozing precum as his hand tangles in your hair. you peer up into his eyes, puppy dog like eyes of yours melting that hard exterior. "fuck" he moans, stroking himself in your face. you whine, knowing he's resolved to make you watch. "daddy~" you sniffle, realizing you crossed the line into unforgivably bad girl and he was not one to show mercy to bad girls. his hand moves quick along his member as he stares down at you, pliant and patient as your thighs rub together to create some sort of friction. "f-fuck, 'm close, you little bitch" he noticed the way the harsh name made your legs tremble when deku mentioned it, and the two men exchanged smirks as your shook from the build-up of your desperately needed release. his angry tip oozed more pre-cum as you writhed and whimpered below him, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you anticipated his release. "come here-" bakugo grunted, taking the back of your head and shoving his long, girthy shaft down your throat, the warmth sending him over the edge as he shot his seed down your throat. the harsh speed of the cum burned your throat, eliciting tears from your soft, fucked out eyes.

katsuki came down slowly, chest heaving as his gaze softened slightly as his beloved girl. "good job, puppy~" izuku whined, his own release creeping upon him as he stroked his cock to the sight before him. you held katsuki's member in your throat, leaned forward on your knees enough for izuku to see your glistening, soaked cunny. at the thought of your velvety walls, he shot ropes of cum all over his hands and fingers. katsuki pulled out of your mouth with a pop, a languid whine leaving your lips at the loss. katsuki grinned at his silly girl, gesturing over to deku. "go clean up izzy's fingers, and kiss him. make him taste himself, puppy," bakugo commanded, a blush rising to your cheeks as you crawled over to izzy. Izuku pressed his fingers into your mouth, drooling pooling and slipping out as he depressed your tongue. once you collected his seed, you leaned forward to plant your lips chastely. deku moaned against your lips, deepening the kiss to swirl his tongue throughout your mouth, definitely catching katsuki's residual seed in his mouth before pulling away with a string of spit. "even my cum tastes better than yours, kacchan" izuku smirks at him, and katsuki furrows his brows at him, sliding his trousers off entirely. "give me twenty minutes, i'll send my puppy over to you with a fresher load to taste, cum eater." izuku blushes at the thought, shaking his head as he pets your hair softly.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence. 

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.” 

Ao3 Link: Here 

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here 

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return. 

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks. 

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo. 

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.” 

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew: 

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious. 

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him. 

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…” 

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat. 

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove. 

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,�� the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.” 

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—” 

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.” 

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.” 

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—” 

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.” 

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs. 

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk. 

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did. 

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue. 

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—” 

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.” 

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—” 

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.” 

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses. 

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.” 

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot. 

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him. 

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.” 

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached. 

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.” 

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore. 

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure. 

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.” 

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head. 

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do. 

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations? 

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability. 

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position. 

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.” 

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.” 

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!” 

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.” 

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova. 

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.” 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current. 

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out. 

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies. 

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight. 

He needed a fucking drink. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs. 

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy. 

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets. 

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools. 

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb. 

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again. 

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more. 

Except… he’d been standing still that time. 

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet. 

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving. 

“What the fu—” 

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later. 

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs. 

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face. 

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots. 

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth. 

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight. 

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue. 

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky. 

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way. 

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them. 

Dynamight was here to get the job done. 

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head. 

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc. 

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him. 

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet. 

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god. 

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch. 

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him. 

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought. 

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze. 

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar. 

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals. 

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again. 

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air. 

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window. 

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then… 

Nothing. 

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

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time. 

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes. 

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop. 

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat. 

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place. 

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way. 

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to. 

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled. 

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business. 

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia. 

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite. 

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least. 

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers. 

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst. 

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things. 

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself. 

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps. 

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself. 

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good. 

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet. 

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help. 

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful. 

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful. 

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own. 

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone. 

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train. 

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you. 

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.” 

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief. 

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.” 

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts. 

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking. 

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away. 

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out. 

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments. 

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes. 

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor. 

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass. 

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms. 

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms. 

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash? 

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs. 

That sounded… closer. 

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky. 

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals. 

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person. 

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth. 

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack. 

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down. 

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air. 

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air. 

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached. 

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street. 

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill. 

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed. 

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it. 

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later. 

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames. 

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene. 

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him. 

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped. 

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window. 

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

[rocorambles]

Ok but imagine this, you make Oikawa jealous and mans just snaps. He acts all calm and collected but when you get home he blindfolds you and puts you on all fours. He says some sweet words to like lure you in and shit- then all of a sudden he just starts spanking you like he’s serving a ball against Karasuno.

Saying stuff like “Aw did that scare you baby?” “I’ll be nice a little later” and “don’t cry, save your tears for when I’m actually trying”

Oikawa would be such a mean mean dom. That perfect mix of coy sweet words and sadism~

Warnings: NSFW, Spanking, Slight Dirty Talk/Degradation, Slight Dom/Sub dynamics

You would think being an adult, living in a different country, being renowned as an Olympic athlete would soothe the competitive jealousy that burns in Oikawa’s chest when he sees Kageyama dressed in red across the net. And it does...until the match is over and you’re mingling among the Japan team, catching up with Iwaizumi and being introduced to the team, his precious kouhai included.

He knows there’s no reason for the green eyed monster raging inside of him, nothing more than pleasantries and politeness in your interactions with the blue eyed setter. So he keeps silent and stoic, far too tense and sullen for you to not realize something’s amiss. But this isn’t the time and place to make a scene, not with the entire world watching.

The two of you wait, not a word spoken, and only the strength of Oikawa’s grip that refuses to untwine from your entangled hands provides some comfort that not all is amiss. But it doesn’t make it any less startling when there’s a 180 shift in his attitude as soon as the front door of your shared hotel room closes behind the two of you and you scream as you’re tossed on the bed.

You don’t even have time to right yourself before you’re being pressed flat to the bed, Oikawa’s toned body melding against yours, his hot breath fluttering against your neck.

“Are you scared, baby?”

Scared? You’d never be scared of your lover. But there’s a thrill, an uncertainty of what’s to come and what has spurred this all on that thrums in your vein. You know the sweetness of his voice is just a precursor of what he has in stored for you, a way to lull you into a false sense of security before he pounces on you. But you can’t help the way your body instinctively relaxes, purring in submission as he gently kisses a line down the side of your neck.

Oikawa can feel your body go lax, feel you bare your vulnerable neck even more to him. And he smiles, a sharpness to his grin as his hands reach to the tie that he had thrown on a nearby chair after a night out with the team.

Your eyes snap wide open, arms jerking to push Oikawa off more out of shock than fear, but you can’t move, heart racing and breath catching in your throat as he blindfolds you, vision going dark and only making the heat of his body and your adrenaline all that much more apparent.

You shudder, thighs clenching, body betraying you as you feel dampness growing between your folds from just the feeling of calloused hands pulling off your bottoms and panties, leaving your ass on full display. And like a well trained dog you instinctively raise your ass as fingertips caress and knead your cheeks, back arched and waiting as you obediently stay put.

“After all these years, you would think I’d get over my jealousy of Tobio-kun. But I had the same urge to say terrible things to him the second I saw the two of you talking to each other today that I had in middle school. Pathetic, huh?”

There’s a flicker of fondness that warms the hardness weighing in his gut when you try to scramble and vehemently tell him that he has nothing to worry about, that you love him and him only. But he’s quick to silence you, lightly smacking your ass in warning and cooing at how you instantly behave.

“I know, baby. I know. It’s you and me forever and no snot-nosed brat is going to get in the way of that. But just let me have this. Let me remind myself who owns you, who gets to touch and mark you. Let me be selfish and I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

There’s no warning after that before the hits rain down, hard and relentless. You lose yourself to the mind-numbing sting of practiced smack after smack, the rhythmic ache of pain and pleasure blending into one, the heat and intimacy of skin meeting skin. Your bottom is on fire, your whole body is on fire. You vaguely hear yourself sob and sniffle, feel the mess of tears and snot running down your face. The tie around your face is drenched in salty fluid and you only cry harder, pussy clenching and feeling so painfully empty as a trail of slick leaks down your inner thigh with every new hit.

“Aww don’t cry, baby. We’re only getting started. Is it too much already? Or are you crying because your tight little hole is empty?”

Your cries turn into moans as two fingers roughly thrust into your dripping folds, not even a bit of resistance meeting them as you desperately clench and try to fuck back on his digits. But you whimper, digging your fingers into the rumpled bed sheets beneath you in an attempt to ground yourself as Oikawa punishingly smacks you once more for your impertinence.

“Behave or else I’m spanking you all night and we can see if you’re enough of a pain slut to cum from just that.”

[sakusasbunny]

𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

“You’d always been such a troubled girl, haven’t you? Don’t worry, nii-chan will fix you”

pairing: sakusa x reader

cw: incest, spanking, degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, gaslighting (lmk if there’s anything i missed)

wc: ~1.6 k

a/n: i just wanted to say thank you so much again for 500+ followers!!! it means a lot, ily! (repost bc tumblr’s a bitch and didn’t show me in tags :))

m.list

“N-no! Stop I-” you struggled against Sakusa’s grasp, his big hands wrapping around your waist and bending you over his knee. Your cries were muffled as he shoved you into the couch. One hand restrained your arms behind your back as the other hiked your skirt up, bunching the material around your waist to reveal the cotton of your underwear.

“P-please, nii-chan, I didn’t mean to. I’m sor-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as a heavy hand cracked down on your ass. Tears brimmed your eyes as a scream tore through your throat.

Sounds of your cries echoed around the room as one excruciating slap after another was delivered to your ass, pushing your face further into the couch.

“Ngh… Nii-chan…” your voice came out meekly, “No more, please… It hurts.”

“Does it now?” Sakusa’s large hand gently caressed the curve of your ass, soothing the soft flesh red from impact. “You should have thought of that before acting like such-” smack “a fucking-” smack “brat.” smack.

Inarticulate pleas forced its way out of your mouth, begging him to stop. Fat droplets of tears streamed down your face. You could do nothing else but cry out in pain as you took your punishment.

It was simple, really. All you had to do was follow his house rules while you stayed in his apartment. Cleaning, making dinner, doting on him after a stressful day at work. It was all so simple. Perhaps he’d overestimated you; after all, you were still just his dumb little sister. Nothing had changed since you were kids—he's convinced himself—he would still have to look after you.

However, this was no longer acceptable. You weren’t kids anymore. Sooner or later, you’d have to learn your responsibilities to him.

Broken whimpers filled every corner of the room. Every strike was harder than the last.

“It won’t happen again, please…” you promised.

“How can I believe you, hm? You’ve been nothing but a brat since you got here,” He palmed your ass, the cool rings on his fingers soothing your burning skin, “This is the only way you’ll learn. You trust your nii-chan, don’t you?”

You faltered in your response—and that was enough for him to crack his hands across your already tender skin,  forcing a strained whimper into the couch beneath you.

Trembling breaths left your lips as you tried to keep yourself from groaning at the stinging pain crawling up your spine.

It’s too much, you thought, this is all too much.

“Your hesitation,” you could feel the warm puff of his breath on the shell of your ear as he leaned in dangerously close to you, “tells me everything I need to know. Now, get up.”

Sakusa freed your wrists from his grasp and you struggled to push yourself up, your arms too sore and numb from being restrained to hold up any sort of weight. He watched as you brought yourself up on two shaky legs, presenting yourself in front of him.

It was embarrassing.

His narrowed eyes trailed down and examined your body. Your blouse, which had been neatly tucked into your skirt, was now  wrinkled and disheveled as you lunged forward on the couch. Red abrasions bloomed across the supple skin of your face, a semi-permanent blush adorning your cheeks. The fabric of the couch had been too rough as your skin brushed against it.

Sakusa pushed himself off his spot on the couch and made his way towards you.

You flinched as he raised a hand, preparing for the impact that never came. Instead, a gentle hand cupped your face and rubbed soothing circles at the irritated skin of your cheeks. It felt nice. You’d all but forgotten how delicate he could be, nuzzling into his palm as you accepted his small embrace.

It didn’t last, however, as his hand dropped back down to his side. Only the ghost of his touch lingered on your skin before fading into the cold.

“After all I’ve done for you, is this how you repay me, hm? After I welcome you into my home with open arms, could you not follow such simple instructions that even a trained dog could do them?”

His words were harsh, nothing like the hand that previously caressed your cheek. Each word that left his lips cut deeper than the last.

It was a feeling you were unfamiliar with—one so painful that it overshadowed the stinging pain from when he had pinned you down and abused your soft skin. The ache had already faded to a dull throb.

You felt the crushing weight of the atmosphere around you. His disappointment was apparent and it felt unbearable as his dark eyes peered at you, radiating uncompromising scrutiny. Your head hung low in shame in a fruitless effort to avoid his fixed gaze. The only thing you could do was watch your tears as they fell to the floor.

“I really shouldn’t even bother with you anymore,” Sakusa let out an exasperated sigh, “What’s the point in keeping someone around who’s absolutely useless to me?”

That was the final blow to your fragile stage.

Your head shot up and even more tears clouded your vision.

No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t do this to you. He can’t just leave you all by yourself. You needed him! You were nothing without him. You would mean nothing without him.

He had been your entire world, you realized. You always thought it was his world that revolved around you, an unshakeable presence that never strayed far, but as he tried to rip himself out of your life, you discovered that you’d been wrong.

You had always needed him. You jumped into his arms with every good news you received, in an obvious plea for his approval. You ran into his arms with every problem that faced you knowing that he was the only one who could bring you any meaningful comfort. He’d kiss you so sweetly, lay you down, and make it go away. Bring you pleasure that you were sure no other man but your brother could give you. No one knew you like he did.  

You would always be the one to seek him out.

You dropped to your knees and clung to his legs as hysterical cries erupted from your mouth.

“N-nii-san, ple-please, you can’t. Please don’t do this to me.” You pleaded as you looked up at him with bleary eyes. Tears stained his pant legs as you pressed the side of your face to his thighs, clutching at the fabric with desperate hands.

“I-I’ll do anything! I’ll be good for you, I pr- I promise,” Your words came out frantic as you spoke in between hiccups, “Just please don’t leave me, please, please, please. I need you!”

Sakusa felt his heart clench as you begged for him. Of course, he had no real intention of leaving you but he thoroughly enjoyed seeing how miserable you had been at the thought.

He almost felt bad, really, he did. But that didn’t stop the glimmer of amusement that hid behind his hardened gaze or the cruel smile that spread across his face. He watched as you nuzzled your face into the fabric of his pants, clinging onto him for dear life. So afraid that if you loosened your grip for just a little bit that he’d disappear from your grasp.

He enjoyed how much you seemed to idolize him. It may have been a cruel ploy, using your love for him as a means to bend your will, but he believed it to be necessary. It was just as you said, you needed him. He just wanted to help you realize it.

You’d been defying him too much recently. First, talking back to him, and lately, refusing to follow his orders, even ignoring a curfew he’d set out for you. He had received a phone call from you at an ungodly hour one night, too drunk to even form a sentence and that had been the last straw. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t have that. Not to his precious little sister, no.

But he couldn’t really put all the blame on you. You were only a product of your environment. Your parents had always been too lenient on you. His father and mother had spoiled you rotten, never really disciplining you and only ever throwing money at all of your problems instead of teaching you how to fix them. He supposed he had them to thank for making you all too dependent on him but he needed you to be obedient for him.

So he’d decided to take it upon himself to teach you.

Did you not see? Everything he did for you was out of pure love! Did you think he wanted to hurt you? To hear your pretty screams as he held you down and spanked you? He took no pleasure in punishing you. No… All he wanted was for you to be safe with him. And what’s a better way to show you than cutting you off? Convincing you that you needed him, that you couldn’t live without him?

He threaded his fingers through your hair as he brushed the strands away from your face. Caressing your cheek with his thumb, he gently motioned for you to look up at him.

Long trails of black stained your flushed cheeks as your mascara ran down your face. He loved seeing you like this. Big, innocent eyes looking up at him, glazed over with adoration only a sister can have for her big brother. So desperate. So needy. So ruined. And all for him. Only for him.

Sakusa wanted to keep you like this forever.

“You’d always been such a troubled girl haven’t you?” It was a rhetorical question, one that he’d already known the answer to, but you nodded eagerly anyway, ecstatic at the soft tone he’s taken with you.

“Don’t worry, nii-chan will fix you.”

[herofics]

Dabi beats up an asshole ex step-mom, but it’s comfort

Guess who isn't doing so well on this wonderful day, you fucking guessed it, me. They’re childhood friends and the reader stayed in contact with Dabi even after he left his family and they both became villains, the reader not so much but they aren’t exactly a lawful citizen. Also can you tell I’m venting some shit, obviously this is highly exaggerated and I wouldn’t hurt anyone, but god does it feel good to get some anger out. I’m 6cm taller than Dabi and much bigger, and I’m saying this because it ended up being a bit of self insert, or at least with a big reader.

You weren’t really sure what triggered it this time. Scratch that, you knew exactly what made it happen, but you didn’t really want to accept it.

“Fuck!” you yelled as you hit the brick wall for the hundredth time that evening.

You knuckles were bleeding and bruised, but you didn’t care, you barely even felt the pain anymore.

“Fucking bitch!” you shouted and struck the wall one more time.

“Ya know, there’s a perfectly good punching bag right there” Dabi said as he leaned against the doorframe.

You turned around, out of breath, and crossed your arms in front of yourself, trying to hide your hands.

“Can you just go away?” you asked, sounding more desperate than angry.

“Sure can, but I’m not gonna” he scoffed and started walking towards you.

You took a step back, but now your back was against the wall and you couldn’t really get away from him.

“Nowhere to run now” Dabi smirked and forcefully twisted your hands away from your sides, to see the damage you’d done this time.

“So?” you asked, looking away from him.

“You didn’t fracture anything did you?” he asked after a while, and let go of your hands.

“I-I don’t think so”

“Good, cause we’ve got something to do” he turned around and started walking out.

You grabbed your hoodie from the floor and threw it on, following Dabi out of the dusty gym.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” you asked as he pulled his hood up and put on a black facemask.

“That hag of an ex step-mom of yours is bothering you again, isn’t she? We’re gonna go greet her”

“How’d you know?” you asked and shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets.

“You yellin ‘fucking bitch’ at the top of your lungs while hittin a wall kinda gave it away”

“Ah” you shook your head.

You walked through the city, without saying so much as a word after that. When you got to her house, you grabbed Dabi’s forearm and squeezed it a little too tight for his liking.

“You’re not gonna kill her, right?” you asked, while still holding onto his arm.

“Like I said, we’re just gonna greet her” he growled and ripped his arm away from your grip.

“Sorry, I-”

You were interrupted by the door opening and that hag peeking out the door. She saw you and you could see her eyes darken. It honestly gave you goosebumps, and brought back a lot of the shit she had done.

“”What are you doing here? I thought you never wanted to see me again” she said spitefully.

“I didn’t, and I don’t, but he does”

Dabi took his mask off and shoved it into his pocket. Even though you could only see the side of his face you knew he had that crazy gleam in his eyes and he was smiling like a maniac.

“Hello Mrs” he said and pushed her back into the house so forcefully, she fell on her ass into the hallway, leaving a smoldering handprint on her shirt.

“Dabi? Isn’t this enough, she looks scared enough”

“No, not what she did to you” he hissed and you could see the smoke coming from his hands.

“What I did?! That brat is-” she started but Dabi pretty much showed his boot into her mouth.

“No one asked you anythin” Dabi growled and waved his finger in front of her face, before taking his boot off her face.

“You said you wouldn’t kill her” you said, not even really sure if you wanted to convince him.

“I won’t” Dabi said.

“But?”

“But ya might want to call an ambulance soon” he said as he grabbed her by the collar with both hands.

The fabric started smoking and burning and your former step-mother screamed, hopefully more because of fear than pain. You pressed your hands to your ears to muffle at least some of the sounds. You stepped outside for a few minutes, before calling the ambulance, but after a while you couldn’t take the noises anymore and you slammed the door open.

“Dabi!” you finally yelled and grabbed his arm.

Dabi turned his head to look at you and stopped struggling against your grip. Even though you looked angry, it didn’t seem to be directed at him. You were looking past him and down to the human sack of shit laying on the floor. Even though you were obviously angry, you also seemed very sad.

“Fine” he sighed and ripped his arm out of your grasp.

“I called an ambulance, it should be here soon, so we need to go” you said, now looking more like your calm self.

You grabbed Dabi’s hand and started dragging him away from the scene of the crime. When you had put enough distance between yourself and the house, you turned around and noticed that he was bleeding from his face and the hand you had grabbed. You figured your former step-mother had managed to rip a few of his staples off.

“I’ll patch you up once we get back to my place, put your mask back on and maybe you won’t look as suspicious as you are” you remarked.

“Yeah, yeah” he said and took his hand back to put his mask on.

You lead the way to your apartment, when you got there you sat Dabi down on the couch.

“Wait there, I’ve got some replacement staples for you and I’m gonna clean off the blood”

“I can do that myself” he argued, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Oh shut up, you’re too angry to do shit right now, I felt how your hands were shaking”

“Fuck you” Dabi growled and leaned back on the couch.

You carried one of the kitchen chairs in front of the couch and sat down on it, setting the wound cleaning supplies on the coffee table behind you.

You grabbed Dabi’s chin and started cleaning the blood off his face. You had to swipe his hair out of the way a couple of times too.

“You’re too goddamn dirty for this to be of any actual help. Go take a shower you dirty gremlin”

Dabi just sighed, but obliged with your request without much resistance, but he still made sure to smack you on the back of the head as he walked by.

“I’ll give you a t-shirt and a pair of my joggers, so throw your clothes in the washer” you yelled as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

You could hear the shower turn on and while he was in there, you decided to patch up your knuckles. You disinfected your hands and wrapped some gauze around your knuckles. Then you left the clothes you promised next to the bathroom door. You laid down on the couch to wait for Dabi to come out of the shower.

Dabi stood under the warm water for a while. How long had it been since he had actually taken a proper shower, with soap and all. He opened a couple of the shampoos and shower gels, before he found the one that smelled the most like you. He decided not to use it, but instead just took a deep breath of the smell and memorized the brand. Maybe he would buy it for you sometime. Dabi put the bottle back and chose something else that would be better for the burnt parts of his skin.

“What am I gonna do with them?” he muttered. “How do I keep them safe?”

Laying there on the couch, you got to thinking, it wasn’t like you had any love left for your ex-step-mom, but you didn’t really know how to feel about what Dabi had done. It’s not that she didn’t deserve every bit of it, it’s more about the fact that you felt like you should’ve done it yourself and not let Dabi bloody his hands again. You knew what he was, you knew who he worked with and the things he’d done, but you didn’t want to use him like some sort of an attack dog.

The bathroom door opened and Dabi stepped out. He was wearing the pants you’d given him but he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was drying his hair on the towel and when he was done, he draped it over the chair you had brought next to the couch.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said and grabbed the staples and the surgical stapler off the table. “Sit down, and I’ll patch you up too”

Dabi sat down on the couch next to you and was very still during the whole stapling operation. You were used to doing it for him, since you’d been doing this for years, ever since he had had a need for it. You grabbed his chin again and started working on his face, it didn’t seem like the skin had ripped too badly, which was a damn miracle, so you just pressed the stapler close to the old spots and pressed it down. Next was his hand, it looked much worse, but you managed to patch him up with the addition of a few stitches and the staples on top. Even when you were done, you didn’t let go of his hand, you just looked at it and brushed your thumb over the border of normal and burnt skin.

“Do you hate me now?” he asked suddenly.

“I may be annoyed at you, but I could never hate you” you said as you put the last staple to his hand. “Touya…” you used his real name to see if he would react any differently, but he didn’t seem to care. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, and you’ve always looked out for me. You know I appreciate that, but I don’t want to take advantage of your willingness to stand up for me, and I’m not so weak that I would need it anyway”

“I don’t do it because I think you’re weak. I do it because you’re too damn kind to give shitty people what they deserve”

“You might be right about that” you sighed, finally letting go of his hand. “Why’d you choose today to do that anyway?”

“Just felt like it” he shrugged.

“Sure…” you rolled your eyes. “Also, could you put a shirt on?”

“Why? You getting all hot and bothered about it?” he smirked.

“No-no, jackass” you said and hit his shoulder.

“Ouch” he said a bit over dramatically.

“Seriously though, if at all possible, I wish you didn’t have to bloody your hands even more because of me”

“I would burn the whole world down for you, and there is nothing you could do about it” Dabi said quietly, but you could hear he was very serious.

“Thank you, but I’m sure it won’t come to that” you said.

You moved to lay down on the couch but Dabi pulled you down so your head was on his lap. You could feel his hands in your hair and you took a deep breath. He smelled like sea salt and toasted cinnamon. Everything was better like this, just like this.

[jackson--t]

The silver tooth

This is a very small 'spinn off' from my story 'hasta mañana' on AO3. Where Heahmund has fun dragging the handcuffed Ivar in a restaurant and Ivar tells Heahmund the story about his silver tooth. Happened some hours after the arrest. Might post this on AO3 aswell.

Words: ~ 2200.

Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund.

Ivar stared at Heahmund, the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly. Heahmund could see that the boy had briefly let his bright eyes slide down to the handcuffs that Heahmund had tightened under the table to keep at least one of the Mexican brat's hands fixed; it was only when the bright eyes turned sullenly and extremely angrily on Heahmund's face again that Heahmund raised his eyebrows.

"This is humiliating." Ivar snarled, but Heahmund only snorted.

"How is it more humiliating than being chained in a car, huh?" Heahmund replied; he waved to a waitress who nodded slightly at him while Ivar clicked his tongue lightly.

"Is this some American way of taking your prisoners out to dinner? What kind of shit is that?" the boy hissed venomously.

Heahmund smiled broadly. "We've been driving across the desert for several hours, and the turf where your Mexican ass belongs is just a little far away. And since you scum can't be left alone in the car - later someone will think you're a whimpering dog that has to be freed because I would have left the air conditioning off - you'll just have to eat with me. I think I'm even nice. They wouldn't even let something like you knock on the glass door."

Ivar bit his lower lip so hard that the skin turned slightly white where his incisors sank in lightly. Anger, Heahmund could see it exactly, and he loved it. They had had a long trip since Heahmund had arrested the drug lord's son - but as it was in the foothills of the Mexican desert, the nearest police station was not just around the corner.

Heahmund had known that people had reacted terribly shocked to his and Ivar's arrival - but he couldn't see himself sitting in a car with that bastard for 24 hours without eating or drinking anything. Especially since the tormentor put his damn feet down on his dashboard every two hours, the crappy white sneakers that Heahmund already hated on principle. The fact that they hurled racist expletives at each other every 20 minutes added to it. Until Heahmund had discovered this dinky little diner on the outskirts of a small desert town and had decided to make Ivar look really stupid for his own amusement and encouragement.

He knew that people knew who Ivar was. They knew rumors, like ghosts, spoken in whispers behind street corners. And even though Heahmund, as an annoyed cop, smelled treachery behind every Mexican face, he had still decided to make this stage out of sheer amusement. And he loved Ivar's hate-distorted face, the rapidly creeping blush on his cheeks as people kept staring at him. Almost like a lion in the zoo.

"I'm not hungry." Ivar growled; his lip had by now released, but his eyes were still narrowed in anger.

"Then don't eat. I honestly don't give a shit if you have something in your stomach. You're half a shirt anyway.", Heahmund replied amusedly, ordering something to drink and eat. Fortunately, the waitress spoke English; he would never have had the nerve to ask that damn bastard for a translation. And even though the waitress turned to Ivar with slightly red cheeks and asked him in a shaky voice in Spanish what he wanted to eat, Ivar didn't look away from Heahmund's face; hate, so much hate. Heahmund's limbs were tingling. The tension between them had increased since the car ride.

"Sólo agua. Eso es todo.", Ivar muttered hoarsely; the waitress nodded and disappeared. Heahmund watched her go, interrupted only by the slight snort that came between him and Ivar. The boy jutted his chin slightly.

"Do you seriously think women like her go for cops?" he said; Heahmund raised his eyebrows. He'd had a hard time getting used to Ivar's hard Spanish accent, even if it did sound exciting in some way. Like everything else in this country. But Ivar was something very special. Something very special bad that Heahmund had been working towards for years. Capturing the son of the Ragnar Lothbrok, the ghost of Mexico, was a brilliant job. He just had to drive this little bastard safely to the precinct, that was all.

"All women like cops."

"They don't."

"They sure do."

"Tss, as if! Especially on you foreigner. Women don't like traitors."

"Women don't like criminals."

Ivar leaned back slightly in the seat; his bright eyes slid over Heahmund's face, then he gave a light snort of laughter.

"Besides, I don't think you’re into women," Ivar said, and Heahmund fixed the stare of his eyes on him. The young Mexican raised his eyebrows slightly, and Heahmund snorted.

"What did you just say?"

"I said you don't like women. You're looking at me like-" Ivar interrupted; the waitress brought the drinks. And just as she was about to set the glass of water down in front of Ivar, Heahmund lightly bumped the tray with a movement, and the glass of water fell. The waitress apologized, while Ivar pressed the back of his head against the padded bench and stared angrily at Heahmund.

"Oops. My mistake. Well, the good water for the poor boy!  Get another glass, will you?" Heahmund said with a smile, and the waitress nodded after removing the grossest dirt. Ivar's eyes literally glowed as Heahmund looked at him again.

"You're an asshole."

"And you’re scum. A chilled drink like that does a world of good," Heahmund retorted; he took a big gulp from his glass of cool iced tea and tried his best to cover a wide grin in his mouth as he saw Ivar's eyes narrow.

"I hope someone shoots you soon," he said.

"You can wish for that when you're in jail, Goldy."

"Why you fucking cop call me Goldy?"

"Because of your skin."

Ivar's mouth dropped open, then shut again; his eyes swept once down Heahmund's body, and he nodded deprecatingly at the cop.

"Racist."

"With you and your family gladly."

"Oh, that was clear. I swear you're going to regret this," Ivar growled. He didn't move away when the waitress placed a new glass of water in front of him while Heahmund got a plate of food. Heahmund immediately started eating, and he noticed after a while that Ivar was looking slightly out the window. The boy did everything but look in Heahmund's direction, and chewed lightly on his lower lip.

Heahmund knew he was hungry. Since the arrest, which had been half a day ago, the boy had eaten nothing and drunk very little. The water glass was half empty, and there was a reflection of the slowly setting sun in the slightly milky glass. Heahmund stared at the glass for a while, then back at the food. He left a little left over, and after a while pushed the plate over to Ivar. "If you want, eat. You Mexicans don't throw anything away and make tacos out of everything."

Ivar's eyes rolled upward, and he snorted deeply. "Can we maybe do without your standard cop jokes about us for a change, huh? A little more civility? One could almost think you're a cop from the gutter.", Ivar snorted, and before Heahmund could take the plate away from him again, he pulled it over to him with his free hand. It wasn't much - but it was already too much by Heahmund's standard. This little rat didn't even deserve the water that was next to the plate.

Ivar ate hastily. And only when Heahmund paid the waitress and unchained Ivar from the bar under the table again, the bright eyes briefly turned to Heahmund, who took the extremely unruly boy hard by the handcuffs and led him away. It did not escape his notice that a deep shade of red was traveling down Ivar's cheeks, up to his cheekbones. He gripped tighter, even as he heard Ivar's slight snort accurately.

Heahmund chained the boy to the open window of the car door, with one arm, and with a soft exhale took a cigarette from his bulletproof vest a few feet away. It took him a while to find his lighter among the guns, pepper spray and other things, but then he lit the cigarette and took a big drag from it. Only after a while did he feel Ivar's burning gaze on him; he turned his eyes to the boy and nodded. Ivar had leaned back against the car door, his arm contorted so that he could stand reasonably well, before nodding to Heahmund as well.

"Can I bum one?" he asked, and Heahmund laughed lightly.

"Aren't you still too young for that? And more importantly, why should I?"

Ivar rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh; his bright eyes pointed at Heahmund's bulletproof vest. "Come on, I can't take another eight hours in that car with your fucking aftershave up my nose. Please."

"If you keep your sneakers off my dashboard, then yeah," Heahmund snorted; he fumbled again for the cigarettes and raised his eyebrows in annoyance.

"Sure."

He lit Ivar's cigarette. Because of the fact that they were a little closer due to the restricted movement, Heahmund could see the fine scar that stood out on Ivar's caramel-colored skin on his cheek; he also smelled it again, that damn sweet smell of copal and lavender. He wrinkled his nose slightly; something silvery flashed at him as Ivar took the first, deep drag from the cigarette and expelled it gleefully into the lukewarm air.

He had seen that silver tooth the first time he had arrested Ivar. With the roar the boy had put on, it had been hard to miss; besides, it was the tooth next to his first four incisors, quite conspicuous. Heahmund took another drag from the cigarette, then nodded over to Ivar, who eyed him the same way. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm light, which reflected perfectly like melted honey on Ivar's face.

"The tooth, that silver one." Heahmund said; he leaned against the car beside the boy, emitting a puff of smoke.

Ivar raised his eyebrows. "What about it?"

"Is that fashion? Or is that some...Mexican bullshit you guys like to do. Like your fucking tattoos."

Ivar snorted. "You have one on the back of your neck yourself, I've seen it. And no, it's not bullshit, fucking asshole." The boy shifted his position slightly; Heahmund knew that the handcuffs were actually a much tighter fit, because they left marks on Ivar's relatively thin wrist.

 "What is it then?"

Ivar was silent for a moment; he fixed his gaze on the setting sun, and again expelled a light haze of smoke.

"It's a gift. I was traveling in Mexico City once, must have been two years ago. A girl almost got hit by a truck she hadn't seen, and her parents were standing too far away. When I pulled her aside, I hit my head on a hard stone wall. My tooth fell out."

"Must have been a baby tooth." Heahmund said as two pairs of narrowed eyes locked onto him; Heahmund laughed lightly. "It's fine, sorry."

"Anyway," Ivar continued; "anyway, the little girl's parents were so grateful to me that they offered to correct it. The father was a dentist. It's white gold, it was worth more than the damn practice. He said actually he had wanted to save that silver tooth for a specific occasion in his own life. But he said his daughter's life was absolutely worth it. And I've had that tooth ever since. It always reminds me of what happened there."

Heahmund exhaled. For a moment, he didn't know what to say - which was extremely rare in his life. He had arrested Ivar to get to his father with him. He wanted to bust the whole family, this whole cartel - but he hadn't expected anything like this. And he wondered for a moment if he should even believe Ivar, because after all he was part of this corrupt and violent family. This merry-go-round of violence and drug dealing, of murders and illegal activities.

But when Heahmund turned his gaze to Ivar, who was still staring towards the sun, the back of his neck prickled slightly. He saw exactly the slight bulge under Ivar's skin at the mouth, the tender bulge, a clear indication that the boy was just running his tongue over the said silver tooth, obviously thinking back to that experience. So, scum could also do good.

Bright eyes locked on Heahmund, and the two looked at each other for a moment. The rays of the sun made Ivar's eyes seem almost silver, and Heahmund's throat went terribly dry for a moment. Pure silver, beautiful, wild silver. Forbidden silver.

"Once I see your dirty sneakers on the dashboard, I'll kick them out the window myself," he said darkly, and Ivar clicked his tongue.

"You would miss me, asshole."

"Tss. No more than you miss rats after they bite you."

"Charming, cop."

"Shut up, dirty little bastard, and you keep your mouth shut on the ride. I don't want to hear a word."

Ivar snorted slightly, and as Heahmund released his handcuffs from the door and almost roughly shoved the boy into the car, their eyes met again.

"Not a word, bastard."

"Pendejo, you fucking gringos are all the same."

That damn accent. Heahmund almost had to bite his fist as he walked to his side of the car to stop the tingling and fire in his veins. After all, he could never and would never allow someone like Ivar to get too close to him.

@youbloodymadgenius (ehm was it really everything written? 😂🙈)

[ficforce]

After You, No, After You

Konro and Benimaru x Reader SFW

“Stay still, Waka,” Benimaru grumbled under his breath as the woman’s fingers combed through his hair at the back of his head and he gave a grunt as he felt the strands pulled from his scalp, “Sorry, it’s really stuck in there… you’re gonna have to wash it out. It’s practically syrup.” The twins were hiding behind Konro as they watched her try to get the gooey remains of their sweets out of the Captain’s hair – they swore it was an accident. With a sigh, she stood up and patted the dust off of her pants, “Maybe it’s a good thing, you’ve been working pretty hard this week – take a break, Waka, a decent bath might do you some good.” Her hand reached down to pat his shoulder but at the last moment the man avoided the touch, he got up and stalked past her mumbling about not being a little kid. The twins ran off after him and Y/N watched after him in confusion before looking to Konro, he couldn’t help but defend him, “He’s been a little frustrated lately.” “I know…” she sighed, “It feels like he’s mad at me though. I guess I baby him a little, even though we’re not that far apart in age. He just has so much to deal with and sometimes I think it really gets to him. Not that he would ever admit it.” All she wanted was to make things a little easier on him, feeling Konro’s hand on her arm she turned her gaze up to his, “Is this where you treat me like a kid?” He smiled at her question and gave her arm a comforting squeeze, “You’re too grown up to be treated like a little girl, Y/N.” Konro couldn’t ignore that she was a grown woman any more than Benimaru could, he had seen crimson eyes follow her around too often to ignore, the walls were thin in the Guardhouse and the Lieutenant wasn’t deaf to the younger man moaning her name quietly in. It wasn’t so different from the way Konro looked at her or fantasised about her…

“I think he wants you to see him as a man rather than someone to look after – so he takes it personally when you try to soothe him like that.”

Her fingers locked together and she tried to keep her voice steady, “…You make it sound like he, ya know… likes me.” “Would that be so bad?” She noticed that he was having trouble keeping eye contact with her now and he shifted his body slightly away until his hand fell back to his side, “Waka’s really grown, he’s reliable and you know the cold attitude is just for show – you’d make a good pair.” Konro didn’t say much more than that, he made his excuses and headed out. Did Benimaru like her? They worked well together, she was a fire soldier third generation and had started off as a regular Hikeshi, her abilities didn’t kick in until after her twentieth birthday. She got on with her Captain and wasn’t afraid to pick on him, though not many Asakusians were afraid of him unless they were up to no good, he always invited her for drinks and when he decided to gamble – which he was bad at – he relied on her intuition. Her fighting style was basic, trusting her ability to get the job done but Benimaru still insisted on training with her every now and then, he wasn’t gentle and she was always bruised afterwards. He complained when she pet his hair after a few too many drinks and he didn’t like when she tried to tell him to take a break, eat something or drink something. All she wanted to do was thank him for all his hard work… it was a way to stay close to him too. Konro’s words gave her butterflies and Y/N wondered if he was right. Konro was always right, she looked up to him and admired him. He always seemed to be the one to help her get control of her fire when she lost control because of her inexperience, Y/N knew he could be dangerous and that he wasn’t one to shy away from a fight; he just tended to be smarter about picking them. He always made her feel warm. Her heart often fluttered at the sight of Konro in the same way it did for Benimaru… wouldn’t it be nice to have both  — - “Y/N!” Her head tilted up toward the smokey sky at the call of her name, Benimaru was above on his matoi and he pointed south, “There’s a couple of kids hiding down that alley.” “On it, Waka!” Y/N ran off, she was careful to avoid the stray fireworks whistling through the streets from the warehouse that had caught fire. There was no Infernal this time, just a couple of idiot teenagers who had caused flames to spread over half the block, “Anyone down here?!” Crying could be heard coming from behind a tower of crates, “Hey, it’s okay, come one, let’s get out of here.” Y/N took the toddler from the little boy who had been trying to look after her, “Hold onto my coat and stay close.” A loud bang made her jump and a wall of fire blocked the three of them into the alley. The boy buried his head into her side and she tried to keep the little girl from the heat. “Y/N!” “Lieutenant!” Through the brief gaps in the yellow and orange flames, she caught glimpses of the man. “I’m… I’m gonna try to part it so I can hand the kids through!” If she had been alone she would have just run through the blaze but the children would be burnt, her eyes illuminated as she concentrated on pulling the fire apart until there was an opportunity to thrust the toddler into Konro’s arms. The man called the boy to run through, giving him enough courage to brave the flames and join him. Konro handed both of them to another Hikeshi and told him to get them out of the danger zone, the space closed and he lost sight of her, “Y/N… Oi! Come on!” She wasn’t paying attention to her powers and the blaze began to spread up to the roofs of the other houses, “Get it under control!” The Hikeshi panicked as she watched it spread because of her, Konro’s call made it worse as she could only imagine how disappointed he was at her failure. “Forget controlling it, Y/N, just run through!” Konro let out a relieved breath as she appeared through the flames in one piece, her clothes let off a few billows of smoke but otherwise, she was fine, “We’ll deal with this, head to the river and make sure the civilians are safe.” Later, when everything was put out and rebuilding had started,

Y/N was surprised when Benimaru sat down beside her and shoved a box of mochi onto her crossed legs, “You look like a kicked dog.” “Rude.” Once she had opened the box he dived straight in to grab one, she noted it was the least sweet one in there and tutted at him, “Did you get this because you wanted that one or because you were a brat earlier?” He shrugged one shoulder, “Who cares - why you looking so miserable?” Benimaru chewed his mochi as he waited for her to tell him, she was usually straight forward with him but as he swallowed he realised she hadn’t touched the snack and she was yet to answer him - that wasn’t so usual. “Is it because you made that fire way worse?” “I wasn’t good enough, I had the kids and I panicked… I screwed it up and the Lieutenant had to deal with my mess.” Y/N dropped her head into her hands, she felt utterly defeated and it was all because she caused trouble for Konro, “I’ll be better next time, I’ll work until I pass out if I have to.” “Good.” The Captain took the box of mochi from her lap before shifting himself on the mat and resting his head on her thigh, “Is it your lack of skill or disappointing Konro that’s got you down?” He looked up at her and smirked, Y/N’s expression was surprised at his position on her lap but she didn’t seem like she would push him off, “You like him, right?” Y/N’s eyes widened a little and she cleared her throat before answering, “O-of course! He’s my Lieutenant and… and everyone likes Konro…” “Don’t play dumb, Y/N, you know I mean,” the man picked up a piece of mochi and shoved it in her mouth, “He likes you too, he’s just being a coward. If you like him you should tell him… Konro will look after you, he’s not mad that you lost control earlier - he was just worried.” He closed his eyes then, “You’d make a good pair.” His words parroted what Konro had said that morning and Y/N could sense the same unusual discomfort in Benimaru that Know had had earlier. It was as if they wanted to support the other but were giving up something they wanted to do it. “Benimaru…” his eyes opened at the sound of her voice, she couldn’t help but think that he had a beauty to him, his crimson eyes always caught her attention, “Konro said the same thing about us.” “Tch!” He sat himself up and pushed his hair out of his face, “Course he did - that idiot! You don’t even look at me the way you do with him, Konro’s a better man, ya know, you should just tell him.” Benimaru got up and headed out before she could find the words to answer him. Benimaru had as good as told her that he had feelings for her but in the same breath told her to be with Konro. Y/N exhaled loudly and tried to calm her beating heart - did this mean they both liked her the same way she did them? Did she have to choose? Of course, she did… It wasn’t likely they would want to share, if she chose one over the other it could change everything, either they would resent one another or she would lose someone she adored, “Fuck.” — - The next three days were busy with rebuilding and preparation for a festival, they were fortunate that no Infernals appeared and the fireworks disaster wasn’t too catastrophic, it gave her a chance to practice and Y/N was taking advantage of it. Feeling her lungs squeeze painfully the Hikeshi fell to her knees in exhaustion, it was getting harder to take in air and her limbs were shaking from overusing her ability, it wasn’t time to give up so she forced herself back up straight and glared at the metal barrel she had started a fire in. She kept it up until her knees gave out and she tasted dirt in her mouth. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t even move her arms under her to get up, she knew she’d burned herself out but she figured it would pass soon enough. Y/N wasn’t sure when she had passed out so she was confused when her eyes opened and the world was moving, the ceiling and walls were passing by and as she blinked groggily up she realised that Konro was carrying her through the Guardhouse, “‘m not done…” “Yes you are,” he murmured back, “You’re out of firepower, Y/N,

don’t force it.” Konro adjusted her in his hold and slid the door open with his foot, he placed her down onto the futon in his room and then headed out briefly to grab a damp flannel to clean the dirt on her face. He could see she had pushed herself a little too far. “She okay?” Y/N turned her head to the man leaning against the doorway, her eyes couldn’t focus on Benimaru so she let them slip closed again. “Burned herself out, Waka. You should sit with her for a while…” Benimaru looked away from them, “You’re better suited.” Her head was pounding and she felt like something was pressing down on her, Y/N really wasn’t in the mood to listen to then argue who should sit with her and it was out of character for them. She’d been agonising over the situation for days - Benimaru liked her, Konro liked her, and she liked them both equally but for different reasons. In the end, she decided she would be better off not choosing. “I don’t want either of you!” The Hikeshi sat up from the futon, batting Konro’s hand away as he tried to get her to go back down, she then forced herself up onto her feet, wobbling as her oxygen-starved muscles protested, “One of the things I admire about you both is the way you go for what you want - how you fight for it. You both told me that the other likes me and you’re trying to push me onto the other like I’m not worth the effort!” That’s what really bothered her, the fact they were willing to give her up. Konro and Benimaru were close and she understood them not wanting to hurt each other but she wished they would see it from her point of view too. “If I’m not worth fighting for then don’t bother! I don’t want reasons why you’re not good enough… I want you to tell me why I shouldn’t throw you both out of here right now!” “It’s my room.” “It’s literally Konro’s room.” Heat flared up inside as her temper rose, it hadn’t been intentional on her part to call up her flames but as they were too weak to do more than make her too hot it didn’t cause the men too much of an issue. The issue was that her body lost all strength in it and she fell, luckily, into Konro’s arms, “Y/N!” He got her back on the futon and sighed, “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, we didn’t expect to both fall for the same girl and in the same way.” “It’s not like we can share you either.” Benimaru pushed his hand through his hair and sat down beside her, “I want you to be happy and I think Konro would make you happier than I could, I want him to be happy too… you deserve at least that, Konro.” “Beni…” the Lieutenant’s voice was soft and he wanted to argue with him but his voice was momentarily silenced. He felt the same way, he wanted Benimaru to steal a little bit of happiness too. Y/N managed to get her vision to focus on them, they were pretty dumb when it came to these kinds of things, if they couldn’t fight it then they tended to struggle, she reached out and grabbed them, catching Benimaru’s pant leg and Konro’s sleeve, “Why can’t we share?” She smirked as they did a double-take of her, “It’ll take two of you to handle me anyway.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Idk if you do child readers or not but if you don't mind could I get Utsuro, Mikado and/or Nikei x child!reader? Sorry for bothering you-

I do! I got a real soft/funny idea for this--

.........

"E-Excuse me, sir?"

Feeling a slight tug on his blazer, Utsuro blinked as he looked down to see who it was. And he saw you, a small child who seemed to be elementary school-aged. Though you looked as if you've been on the streets for quite some time.

"Yes?"

"I just..w-wanna say thank you for helping me. I don't know how you..c-calmed those dogs down but...you saved me." You stammered.

This man did save your life after you were cornered by large rabid dogs. He just showed up and suddenly they were laying down, perfectly calm, even letting you pet them.

"...don't mention it." He responded in his usual cold way, waiting for you to be scared off by his lingering stare.

But you weren't.

"Where are you off to?"

"Not sure. I just wander this earth without purpose."

"I...feel the same way.." You remarked, letting go of his shirt. "Could I..?"

Utsuro was quite surprised by your request, and especially at the gratitude you expressed--which is something he's never received in all his childhood.

But as much as he wanted to be on his own, he saw you and realized...you were just like him: having nowhere to go and lacking purpose.

So he sighed, picking you up effortlessly. "Perhaps we can search for a purpose together." He decided, before leaving the alleyway. "The name's Utsuro..not that you would care but-"

"I'm [y/n]..th-thank you again, Utsu. But...can I call you Dad?"

The man paused for a moment, and during that split second-silence he felt genuinely touched...but he buried the feelings and shrugged. "If it makes you happy."

You grinned and clung to him as you continued on your way.

Unbeknownst to either of you, a certain journalist had witnessed everything unfold, taking notes.

........

"You better be serious about this Nikei. Don't guide us towards false hope with some ridiculous narrative--"

"I am serious! I saw him with my own two eyes!" Nikei slammed his notepad down onto the table. "He helped some kid who goes by [y/n] and...they're accompanying him now. I don't know where but..we'll have an easier chance of finding him. I don't care what happens to that street rat."

"Oh?" The wizard's mask formed a confused expression. "Why so hostile about an innocent child? Is it perhaps...you see yourself in them? Do they reflect the way you have grown up--"

"SHUT UP!!" Nikei's eyes were glowing red at this point. "That brat doesn't know the true power of his divine luck...and they aren't worthy of hoarding it all to themselves!"

"Ooooh..temper, temper.." Mikado tutted, joyful to know he struck a nerve. "Well, you should probably get to know this [y/n] before anything else. So go get a "scoop" on their connection to him. They're not a mere obstacle. Surely they know more about him than we do, no?"

".....you tried burning down two orphanages and suddenly you care about this kid's safety?"

"People change, Nikei. I see those extreme methods aren't necessary anymore. Now be on your best behavior out there. Don't wanna scare them off, you know."

The journalist gritted his teeth, despising the way Mikado treated him like a child. But he just collected his notepad and stormed off.

..........

"So..if you just want something, you can get it instantly?"

"More or less..that's my divine luck." Utsuro shrugged, sitting back on the sofa. "But it's not as fun as one would think."

"How so?" Your curiosity was seemingly endless as you sat beside him. "I thought..it'd make you happier. I know I'd be happy."

Even though he had nothing but the clothes on his back, he managed to get a small flat for you two. It was temporary, but at least he had a reason to rest after so much wandering.

He just looked at you for a few moments. Indeed, he remembered how naive he was back then--thinking of his luck as a gift, when in fact it became a great curse.

"I used to think that too. But..do you wish to learn why I'm like this?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

And he proceeded to explain how he grew up with his divine luck, becoming apathetic after learning that there's no process to what he does--like if he wanted to drive, he already knew how to without taking any tests.

So nothing had any meaning to him anymore.

He left out his attempts to off himself, for obvious reasons, and went on to say how he goes around helping people..but it's merely to pass the time.

By the time he finished, you could only frown as you hugged him. "I'm sorry.." Was all you could say.

"Don't be." He put his arm around you. "I'm..gonna take a walk. Wanna come?"

"I'm okay. My legs aren't sore anymore but.."

"That's fine. I'm just going to the convenience store. Anything you want?"

After you told him your favorite snack, he got up and grabbed the key, departing for the store.

For some time you just watched television, though your mind kept wandering back to Utsuro and his story. At least you know understood why he was the way he was.

But your musings were interrupted by a door knock. 'Is he back already?' You got up and went to the door, only to open it and see a completely different man there, with black hair and dressed in a sandy-brown coat and hat.

"Why hello!" He greeted with a smile. "Is uh..your dad home?"

"What do you want?" You answered warily.

The man seemed taken aback by your coldness, though he forced his grin. "Well I'm a friend of his! Nikei Yomiuri! Y'know? Ultimate Journalist--"

"Never heard of you before."

Ouch. That was a stab to the heart.

"I-I'll just ignore that comment..and get the point." He sighed. "I've heard of his talent of luck and I'm hoping to get an interview. Rumor has it he's helped a lot of people in his life, including you! So if you can tell me where he is I--G-GAH!!!"

With a swift kick to the nards, you scowled at him as he crumpled to the ground almost immediately. "He said he had no friends..so you're lying. I'm not letting anyone use my dad's luck for themselves anymore! Get lost."

Nikei was mumbling a string of unintelligible curses, but he managed to get up and walk away, finally leaving you alone.

You huffed and closed the door, returning to the sofa. Only a few minutes later did you hear it unlock as you saw Utsuro return with some groceries.

"Hey, kid." After setting the bags on the table, he turned around just in time to see you hug him once more. "Hm? What is it this time?"

"Nothing..I just...I promise I won't be greedy with your luck. And I won't let anyone else be, too."

He blinked a few times, stunned. But he smiled just a tiny bit as he reached down to pat your head.

"..thank you."

Finally, there was something in this boring, dull world worth living for: And that was you.

..........

"So..what have you learned?"

"Th-That goddamn..piece of shit...a-asshole has one hell of a kick! I swear to fucking god I'm gonna--!"

"Ahaha! If only I was there to see it. But it seems we have a true child of Utsuro on our hands."

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 14 - Discoveries

=

Evie hung one of the last dresses on the transportation rack, when a knock sounded on her door. She pushed the dresses apart for her to step on the other side and called out; “come in!” Doug entered moments later, a smile on his face.

“Hey! How was the camping trip?” Evie turned to him with furrowed brows.

“C-Camping?” Doug's smile diminished and he looked at her slightly confused.

“yeah?” He tilted his head at Evie “Carlos and Jay said you and the others went on a last-minute camping trip to relax?...is-is that not what you did?” Evie sighed, the questions running through her mind stopping as she realized what had happened.

“oh, um, yeah they lied to you” Doug looked a bit offended “you see, Ben was kidnapped on the isle” now he looked alarmed “let me finish, we saved him and saved Auradon” Doug let out a small sigh of relief and took Evie's hands.

“is everyone okay?” Evie looked off to the side for a moment “you hesitated what happened” She grimaced and shook her head a bit.

“um, well…you know how our parents are kinda pieces of shit?” Doug looked surprised at the swear but nodded “well… Harry's dad is…kinda really bad and…that didn’t turn out well on Harry's side…that’s all I’m saying” she gave a small smile and turned, grabbing some of Dizzy’s accessories that she had brought back with her and sliding some on her arm to carry easier.

“Is he okay now?” Doug asked quietly, stepping to her side and leaning into her field of vision.

“yes” Evie assured him “Mal healed him when we left the isle and he’s with (y/n) now, he should be just fine for cotillion tomorrow~” Doug nodded and gave Evie a small smile.

“that’s good, you had me really worried for a moment there, was anyone else hurt?” Evie thought for a moment then shook her head.

“Mal has a cut on her cheek but that was the worst of our end thankfully.” She gave another smile and looked back down at the accessories “you know…while I was there…I realized something” Doug put his hand on her shoulder “I was lucky enough to be given a chance, and now I need to give someone else a chance too” her mind flashed back to five months ago when Harry had asked Ben to bring Uma over, and maybe after cotillion she could ask about Dizzy?

“My uncle bashful used the say that” Doug switched the topic, sensing Evie was not in the mood to talk about what had happened on the isle with him. Evie smiled, happy with the sudden change and turned to him, her brow raised a bit.

“did he?” Doug nodded, then pursed his lips a bit.

“but, really-really quietly” Evie laughed, spinning around to face the transportation rack and gesturing to it.

“come on, we have dresses to deliver~!” Doug happily obliged to her non-verbal request and moved to the rack, pushing it as Evie pulled it out of the room.

-

Two hours later, after every dress had been delivered, Evie returned to her room and grabbed her last two outfits she had to deliver.

A red rose gown and a red and black suit.

She handed the outfits to Doug and dug into her bag again, finding the red ruby earrings with small crossbones skulls hanging from the top. “perfect” she muttered, carefully holding them in her hand and leading Doug to (y/n)s room.

She knocked on the door, humming as a couple of moments passed by and no response came. She knocked again and sighed when again no response came, she gently opened the door and cooed as she looked inside the room.

On (y/n)s bed was her and Harry, curled up together under her many blankets as soft yellow fairy lights hung above them, the title screen of a movie playing on her tv.

Evie snuck into the room, gesturing Doug to be quiet as she set (y/n)s new earrings on her desk and motioned for Doug to hang hers and Harry's outfits on her closet door.

Evie spotted (y/n)s notepad on her desk and wrote out a small thank you note, pinning it to her corkboard that hung just next to her desk.

She ushered Doug out and turned, smiling at the sleeping couple, and slowly closed the door behind her, shushing it as it shut with a loud click.

“There we go” Evie sighed, turning to Doug and wrapping her arm around his “I’m starving, how about you?”

“Food sounds good” he chuckled, guiding Evie to the cafeteria.

-

Carlos watched from afar as Mal swung her feet just of the gazebo floor, her toes just grazing the cool lake water. He froze as she turned to look at him, her emerald green eyes softening and she invited him closer, turning back to the water as he did so and sat down beside her.

Mal laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, while she and Carlos hadn’t been friends before Auradon, she was glad that she had him by her side now.

“so…you broke up with Ben?” Carlos started, giving Mal a soft smile as she looked up at him. She slowly looked back down at the water as she thought of what to say.

“I…yeah” she sighed, letting her weight fully lean onto Carlos, who lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. “I’m just…not ready for the relationship he wants…I know I hide my feelings and shit but…I really don’t know how he expected me to just, be good with all of this Auradon lady stuff within six months…I feel like a failure” Carlos let out a low hum, squeezing Mal's shoulder.

“well, you aren’t, you did your best, and your best was good enough, you just found out that that life…isn’t going to work out for you, it goes against your mental wiring, yes maybe you could adjust to it but would you be happy with it?” Mal pursed her lips, Carlos shook her a bit “well?”

“no” Mal muttered, picking at the loose thread on her pants “no I wouldn’t be happy like that…Ben…he said he wanted me…the real me, the isle me-wait…no he wouldn’t want her, she's rude as fuck” Mal smiled at the snort that erupted from Carlos, before it slipped off as she remembered something. Mal stopped Carlos as he was about to speak again “Hey…I did this for Evie but…I wanted to do the same for you” He looked at her confused “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were on the isle” he looked off to the side for a moment before he realized what she meant.

“oh! Yeah, it's no biggie” he attempted to brush it off but Mal adamantly shook her head.

“No! it's not “no biggie!” I treated you, Evie, and sometimes Jay, horribly! Even after we became friends! You were and are deserving of kindness, and I’m sorry that I was so fucked up that I was the rottenest little brat to you” Carlos stared at her with wide eyes. “what?”

His shocked look melted into a comforting grin “Thank you Mal” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling into a tight hug that only lasted a moment “sorry, just remembered; you’re not really affectionate” he laughed, grinning wider as Mal giggled along.

“it’s-its fine when it comes from you three” Mal hummed, turning to look back at the lake.

“sooo back to the Ben break up talk?” Carlos tried, smirking as Mal blew a raspberry “come on, you need to talk it out with someone, or else you’re gonna explode keeping it all bottled up.”

“…I’m happy I broke up with him” Mal spilled, not looking at Carlos as his brows shot up “I thought about our future and I realized if I kept doing what I was doing, and we kept going with how we were…neither of us would have been happy…I need to learn to love myself before I can love him properly, because…if (y/n)s forced quote an’ unquote therapy sessions” Carlos laughed at that “taught me anything. It’s that…I rely on someone else's love to measure my self-worth”

Carlos hummed, squeezing Mal's shoulder again “that’s not a good thing”

“no!” Mal huffed, running her hands through her hair and pulling at the roots “it isn’t! I've been trying to earn my mother's love for 16 years, then I just hop to doing so much bullshit to make sure Ben will love me! I dyed my hair blonde, I dressed in those itchy dresses, I dropped my entire personality for all that! And-and it wasn’t good, I felt like I was slipping away Carlos” Mal sobbed, tears trailing down her cheeks as she finally broke “I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to act like without all that because I spent so long doing it I just-I forgot what being ME felt like” Carlos fully wrapped his arms around Mal and pulled her tight to his side.  “I-I know it sounds like I’m being pathetic and having a fucking pity party but I’m just so fucking scared Carlos” Mal whimpered, throwing her arms around Carlos’ torso and pushing her cheek against his shoulder “on the isle my life was commanded by my mother and my identity was pleasing her, and here my life has been being Ben’s girlfriend and pleasing the people of Auradon so they think I’m not some villain whose just after Ben because he’s king…I-I do really like Ben Carlos”

Mal sniffed, pulling back one of her arms and wipe her nose “I do, it's just that…being with him hasn’t helped me move on from my mother bullshit and im-gah!” Mal let out a yell, pulling back from Carlos and burying her face in her hands “I’m having a fucking identity crisis because of my fucking mother! Why can’t she just leave me alone! Why can't all this dumb shit be left behind five months ago! Why do I still have to deal with it?!” Carlos let Mal rant, rubbing her back as she broke down.

“because life is unfair that way” Carlos sighed “Mal I know exactly what you're dealing with right now” Mal peeked out from her fingers, her eyes shining “I still have nightmares from living in my mother’s closet, getting trapped in the bear traps on the ground, or when she would burn me with her cigarette…even ones were she sends dogs at me to kill me…I still hear her voice in my head, telling me I’m worthless, that I’ll never be better than dog chow, my only use was being her servant” Carlos swallowed down the lump in his throat “but I know she's wrong, I’m not anything she says. I’m a tech genius, I've made several computers on the isle just from scraps, I've enhanced my 3D printer to be the best in Auradon, faster than any other and the quality is still top-notch, I've made a tiny little device that was able to make a hole in the barrier, I've gotten offers to work for Tony fucking Stark!” Mal gasped, reaching forward to grab Carlos' shoulders in excitement.

“holy shit what!? When? How? Why?!” Carlos smiled, prying off her grip.

“I knew you all were distracted by something else, especially you, so I didn’t want to make you stressed by my stuff either, it was two months ago. I didn’t take the offer because I want to finish school, but the offer still stands when I graduate in two years” Mal grinned, but it turned to a pout as Carlos gave her a look “Now back to the original topic, I’m not letting you deviate from it, you need to let it all out”

Mal stared at him for a moment before shrugging “I…feel like I already did…Auradon is stressful, my mother is the base of all my mental shit, and I’m not ready to be in a relationship with the dude I love because until I can love myself and learn not to rely on others value of me as my own value I can't be with him in a way that won't hurt him” Carlos slowly grinned “what?” “you said you love Ben~” he teased, laughing as Mal turned red and smacked him.

“I did not!!” she screeched, yelping as Carlos half tackled her and pulled her into an arm lock “Let me go you heathen!”

“you love Ben~ you love Ben~” Carlos sang, laughing as she tried to smack at his face “Come on, pixie! Let's get you back to the dorms, I think you need a nap”

“Don’t call me pixie!”

“How bout gremlin?”

“Carlos!!”

-

Chad carefully pulled the 3D printed copy of the king's crown from the printer and pressed a kiss to the emblem on the front. “Finally,~” He walked over to the mirror that was installed in Jay's standing dresser and carefully perched the crown on his head, smiling as his full cotillion outfit came to light.

He looked like a king~

He tilted the crown down a bit and laughed, posing in the mirror “oh what's that? Why no Audrey, I haven’t chosen my queen yet~” He purred to the fake Audrey in his mind. He turned and started to walk away before spinning back around to pose again “why no Audrey-”

Suddenly his phone rang, and he turned, raising his brow as he walked over to his phone “who could be calling me?”

Caller ID - Audrey <3

Chad let out a high-pitched scream of excitement, dropping his phone to the floor as he gripped his head “ahhAH! Audrey!!!”

“chad!” Carlos groaned, glaring as the other dived to the floor for his phone, and shushed him “Chad! This is my room chad!”

Chad shushed him again, making Carlos roll his eyes. Chad hit the answer button on his phone “Audrey?”

“Hey Chad um, I’m kind of stuck in Sherwood forest, my tire went flat. Could, could you come help me?”

“yeah of course!” Chad covered the mic and turned back to Carlos “she got a flat tire in Sherwood forest and she wants me to come fix it~” Carlos squinted a bit and looked at Chad with an odd look.

“that’s six hours away”

Chad looked at him as if what he said wasn’t a long road trip. “Really? Only six?” he turned back to his phone and put it back to his ear “I’m gonna be there faster than I thought”

“Thanks Chad, I was going to come to cotilli-“ he pulled the phone away and pressed a kiss to the screen, hanging up on Audrey and starting to walk out the door when Carlos stopped him.

“Ah-My printer my crown” Carlos took the crown off Chad's head, who chuckled and gestured back from the printer to the crown before shrugging it off.

“I’m coming Audrey!” he ran down the halls towards his car, leaving a bewildered Carlos in his dorm.

“wow,” Carlos snorted, shaking his head and walking into the room, tossing the crown on Jay's bed. Carlos flopped down on his bed, Dude hopping up next to him moments later “these last two days have been crazy huh?”

“You can say that again” Dude snorted, halfway crawling on Carlos' chest and laying his head down “Nap time?”

“Nap time” Carlos chuckled, pulling his pillow over his face to block out the afternoon sun and sighed.

-end of part 14-

yep, part 14, we’re almost to Cotillion guys! also yep, Doug does not accuse Evie of cheating on him even though he had no reason to do so in the movie and he shows concern over Evie and her friends safety when she tells him about the isle~ what?? no~ this isn't a dig at Doug's awful D2 writing!! how could you accuse me of such a thing~! (Doug had alot of potential but like Mal it got ruined in the second movie and he was pushed as a full on background character in the third) also MORE CARLOS CONTENT~ yes he is smart boi and deserves that recognition and yes, the avengers exist in this universe. hopefully that Mal talk didnt sound like a pity party. 

anyway PERMTAGLLIST

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @rintheemolion​

@thecaptainsgingersnap​ @descendantsobsessed​

@verboetoperee​ @imtryingthisout​

taglist

@thesailbells​ @beccad10x​

[sinner-as-saint]

Quarantine with the Ransom twins ❤️🥵

Oh my...

Drysdale twins are both divas and we know it

And despite having a comfortable home and basically everything one could possibly need inside of it; Ransom and Steve still feel bored all the time

And they come up with a bunch of stuff to do - but they never really stick with the plan.

"We can try solve the puzzle." one of them would suggest, but then seeing it was a 4000-piece puzzle, you all gave up.

"I'm in the mood to cook today." maybe Steve would say, walking into the kitchen

"Don't burn down my kitchen." you'd warn him

Then he'd spend quite some time in there and would walk out with just a bowl

"You spent an hour in there. What'd you make?"

"Cereal."

Or now would be the time to actually bond with the puppy you got, a few weeks prior to the national lockdown. 

The guys pretended to hate dogs for a while, but then they could not help but love it to death after seeing how happy it made you

you’d hear the occasional complains however

“Baby, your dog just destroyed my sweater!” 

“That dog of yours ruined my brand new shoes!” 

and you were quick to defend your fur child

“First of all, his name is Muffin, and second of all” you’d pick the puppy up and hold it to their faces “Can this face do any wrong? Huh? Can it?” 

then they’d groan and let it go

Okay but they'd be so lazy, and they'd be bad influence on you

Just a couple of days in and you'd find yourself wandering around the house in nothing but one of Steve's sweaters and pestering him or Ransom by always sighing and whining

"What are you being a whiny brat for?"

"I'm bored."

They'd both smirk and drag you to bed.

"Well, there's plenty we can do in here."

Okay but now since they have all the time in the world, can you imagine how cocky and teasing they'd be?

Maybe they'd try new things

Explore new kinks;

Bondage maybe?

A little bdsm action perhaps?

Or their mouths, fingers and cocks did just fine

either way, they’d be at it for a long time...

choking you

fingering you

fucking you into oblivion

taking turn in pushing inside of you but never actually letting you cum

“Hold it baby, just a little longer.” 

until they saw that you were physically shaking or just unable to take anymore. 

“That should shut your whiny little mouth for a while, huh baby?” 

okay but imagine telling them about the rules of social distancing

“I’m not kidding, it said on the news that we should at least try and stay a few feet apart from one another.” You’d say with a straight face, offending both of them. 

“That’s bullshit.”

“You believe this shit.”

“The news is fucking lying, baby.” 

You’d hold back a giggle as you persisted, telling them sex was a big no-no in times like these. 

“Ah fuck this.” One of them would chase you as you tried to get away from them. 

Probably Ransom, while Steve just laughs at the two of you

Maybe Ransom finally corners you upstairs in his study, and immediately pushes you down on his desk and fucks your brains out. 

“Still wanna believe the news, baby?” he’d breathe in your ear while he pounds into you. 

You’d just whine and moan under him.

Sometime later, maybe Steve would finally join in 

And he’d fuck you good on the table as well. 

needless to say, sex was probably one of the main ways how you three made use of all the free time. 

perhaps this would give ample time to go through their overflowing closets and hoard all of their nice, soft sweaters

and seeing you in their clothes would just turn them into animals

you’d be minding your own business, and texting your friends or checking up on everyone when on of the twins would just pull you onto their lap and make you sit on their cock while they worked on other stuff

you’d whine and whimper and beg but they wouldn’t fuck you

“What, think you could just parade around looking like that and I won’t do anything?” Maybe Steve would whisper in your ear, and each little movement he made would make you lose your mind. 

Ransom wouldn’t be able to stay away for too long, naturally and he’d find his way over to you two. 

he’d gently caress your face and smile at your whimpering, trembling, needy state. 

“Steve being mean to you, baby? Come here, I’ll take care of you.” he’d pat his own lap and you’d get off Steve and make your way to Ransom without a second thought - hoping he’d give you what you wanted. 

But Ransom being the cocky little shit he is, he’d end up doing the same thing. 

it was safe to say that the twins knew how to make use of your free time...

[inkykeiji]

hello, bby💞💞 i absolutely ADORE everything u write, ur insanely talented!! I wanted to ask, you’ve mentioned several pieces of art, precisely songs and films, that have inspired ur work; could u give us some music and movie recommendations that have similar vibe to some of ur fics??? Thank u in advance, I hope u have an incredible day/evening, lysm💓💞💖

THIS QUESTION OOOOOOOH YES ANON YES okay okay first of all, thank you so much!!!! i appreciate that a lot <333 YES i love film so much hehehe <3 my music recommendations are pretty much the same as they always are. the films i’m recommending here; i’m not exactly sure if they have a similar vibe to my fics as i’ve found it difficult to find many films that fit that criteria, but here’s a nice huge list of films that have influenced my main series’, and how!!

beware!! very long post under the cut hehehe AND POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR BMB IF YOU KNOW THE FILMS HEHEHEHEHE

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

the godfather, part 1 + part 2

AAAAAAAAH okay, literally one of my favourite films of all time, the godfather (+ the godfather pt 2) is a fucking masterpiece. tomura’s close relationship with his father was both inspired by bnha itself as well as michael corleone’s relationship with his father, vito. michael is the golden child even though he’s the youngest, and i love love love how cold and ruthless he can be!!! he’s also super smart.

goodfellas

listen. if henry hill from goodfellas and michael corleone from the godfather had a baby, it would be tomura. he’s slightly more henry than he is michael, but his characterization pulls from both of these characters!! henry is fun, he’s reckless, he’s young, he feels like a god and he loves cocaine. henry also becomes very paranoid, a path with tomura is currently speeding down (albeit much more intensely, with legitimate mental health issues, but you get it). i also love the subtle ‘mafia princess’ trope goodfellas has going on with henry’s wife, karen (that scene where she says she’s going shopping and asks him for money, and he takes out that massive wad of cash?????? brilliant, one of my faves hehehe). henry also has some difficulty dealing with his emotions!!

narcos season 1 + 2

k, i can’t say too much about how this incredible show inspired bmb; i kind of feel like listing it is already giving away too much hehehe BUT i love the pure POWER pablo exudes, and i love his relationship with his wife and how family oriented he is.

scarface (both the original 1932 version and the 1983 version)

WOOOOOOOOOO OKAY. for the 1983 film: cocaine my friends. cocaine and violence and toxic relationships!!!!!!!  i kind of love elvira hancock more than anything else; she’s so glamorous and fun and just aaaaah she’s definitely not as ‘baby’ or ‘good girl’ as bmb!reader is, but her sheer class and cute dresses and just how SPOILED she is reminds me a lot of bmb! for both 1932 + 1983: tony’s relationship with his sister, gina (which tbh borders on incest). gina’s another one of those ‘mafia princess’ types, and tony is extremely overprotective of her and spoils her like mad, too. she’s also fits that ‘good girl’ archetype a lot more!!

reservoir dogs

purely the violence. the violence the violence the violence, the crude and crass way the men talk to each other, and the fact that they’re like a lil organized crime group put together by a boss. i am IN LOVE (IN LOVEEEEEEEE) with mr blonde (aka vic vega <333). mr blonde’s extreme sadism reminds me quite a bit of both dabi and tomura, and he’s even referenced in the lil torture piece i wrote!! also, you literally cannot tell me that vic wouldn’t spoil the absolute HELL out of his good lil princess if he had one <3

(not a film, but!!!!!) hamlet

break my bones is very very very loosely based on hamlet (which is my favourite story of all time. literally. i love hamlet so much i can’t even put it into words); with tomura as hamlet, dabi as a mixture of horatio and laertes, and reader as ophelia. hamlet, my precious baby, is a spoiled fucking brat, who loved his father and was loved by his father. he’s also very intelligent, but falls prey to his indecisiveness and his inability to make decisions, in addition to the rapid decay of his mental health. that’s all i’ll say hehehe

baby driver

the relationship between baby + debora reminds me of the relationship between dabi and reader a lot <333 i also just love the aesthetic of this film, and the undercurrents of organized crime!!

the shining

just a teeny tiny bit; i cannot say anything about this or i think it’ll give something away!!!!!

burning

trios!!!!! trios!!!!!!!!!!!!and the relationship dynamic between jong-su, hae-mi and ben??????? absolutely incredible and reminds me quite a bit of the dynamic between tomura, dabi + reader!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐔 (𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞) + 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚-𝐧𝐢𝐢

i’m grouping these two together, because a lot of their influences overlap in terms of dabi + reader’s relationship!!! (i’m pretty sure we can all agree that touya-nii is so fucking Daddy, too <3)

true romance

i fucking love this movie, so so so much. i’d go as far to say that clarence and alabama’s relationship has without a doubt inspired or influenced every single romantic relationship i’ve written in at least some way, shape, or form. i LOVE them. i love their co-dependency on each other, i love their whole ‘it’s you and me against the world’ vibe, and i love how far they’re willing to go for each other. also, again, organized crime (no surprise), and alabama is just the cutest fucking thing i swear to god. that scene of her + virgil in the hotel room will forever be one of my absolute FAVOURITE scenes in cinematic history. i would die for this woman i love her more than anything. she’s so cute yet so strong, so brave, so IN LOVE, and aaaah that is just one of my favourite characteristics ever ever ever. i love women who are soft and strong at the same time, even if that strength isn’t physical.

sid and nancy

hello to one of the most famous toxic relationships ever!!! honestly, i don’t think i have to explain this one much LMAO. obviously my readers aren’t as hardcore as nancy and almost always fall into the ‘innocent good girl’ category, but their RELATIONSHIP itself reminds me quite a bit of the relationship between touya-nii and his princess <3

bonnie and clyde (1967)

ahahaha yet again, another very toxic, very co-dependent type of love. like clarence and alabama, i love how these two are literally willing to die for each other—they’d go straight to the ends of the earth for one another, no questions asked. this type of love is extremely unhealthy, obviously, but it’s something i am extremely fascinated with and love exploring in my work! also, that whole ‘fuck the world let’s commit crimes together’????? very tag you’re it dabi x reader!!!

pulp fiction

more specifically, the relationship between mia and vincent. the sexual tension there is fucking crazy, and i love how mia is yet again one of those ‘mafia princess’ types. really, this film applies to bmb as well, but i’m putting it here because the way vincent gets so so SO soft for mia reminds me of the way touya-nii and dabi in these two series in particular get soft for their readers. also, to a lesser extent, the relationship between butch and fabienne. i know a lot of people don’t like fabienne and get annoyed with her, but i think she’s just the cutest thing and i heavily relate to her and her babie/crybaby nature <3 and of course, the relationship between pumpkin and honeybunny (for tag you’re it especially!) <33

breathless (a bout de souffle)

there’s just something about michel that reminds me of touya-nii SO much. i think it’s a combination of his attitude as well as his petty life of crime, and the way patricia hides him in her apartment...i don’t know, it’s difficult for me to put into words, but i love him a lot <3

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

the joker + harley quinn: i feel like this is so obvious LMAO but i’m obsessed with the idea of that all consuming voracious love that borders on serious obsession. extremely possessive socio/psychopath and his dumb lil baby????? yes <3 (**i also wanna make a note to say that harley isn’t dumb AT ALL, but J will often insult her in such a way, and sometimes the men who write her portray her as such as well >.> but harley is one of my favourite female characters ever. i LOVE how girly and fun she is while still being extremely strong and (sometimes, depending on the version) independent. she isn’t without flaws, and i love how her mr j is basically her kryptonite <3)

speaking of batman, bruce wayne: what can i say, i just love spoiled rich men who have serious issues dealing with their emotions and walk the line of good and evil <33333

anakin skywalker/darth vader: listen, anakin was seriously slighted by those prequel films. but underneath all of that bad writing, at his core, anakin is a fantastic character. he is SO strongly governed by his emotions and is extremely selfish, and his love for his wife and family is ultimately what leads him down the path to the dark side <3 his emotionally charged motivations remind me a lot of CANON dabi!!!

thelma and louise: i just love their relationship, like, a lot hehehe. their relationship and the ending of this film reminds me a lot of my snowman & me; just yet again that whole ‘it’s you and me or it’s death’ type thing.

the darjeeling limited: it should be obvious at this point that i love trios, and i love complex characters and the relationships that come along with them. the relationship between the whitman brothers, the dysfunctional family, the truama and sadness...i love it all. this film is absolutely beautiful and really doesn’t connect much to my work other than the character dynamics, but i love it so dearly.

mad men: again, those misogynistic toxic relationships and the dependency betty has on don for the first few seasons!! also my god, the aesthetic, i am obsessed.

twin peaks: this hasn’t shown up too much in the work i’ve posted on my blog just yet, but i’m head over heels in love with the dreamy unsettling feeling that saturates this entire series, as well as the drugs and crime. also dale is my baby, protect him with everything <3

blade runner (both films): for city aesthetic

suckerpunch: an absolutely awful film but also one of my guilty pleasures, purely because i love babydoll so so so so so much <33 again, more for aesthetic than story.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂

honestly, my music recommendations are exactly the same as they are in this post right here. lana del rey, lil peep, chase atlantic + the neighbourhood are the four that i’d say influence my work the most tho, and have the most similar vibe to my stuff!! also, nicole dollanganger is an incredible artist and lyricist, and i’ve been told more than once that my work and her work are quite similar (which i agree!!!). her stuff is hauntingly beautiful, but i have a lot of difficulty listening to it because it hits a little too close to home and makes me cry literally every single time. so please be wary of that, i’m giving a general trigger warning for her because she can get quite dark. but her work is absolutely fantastic, i highly recommend as long as you feel that you can handle it!!! <33

AAAAAH I KNOW I’M MISSING LIKE A MILLION THINGS I SWEAR but these are the films (and tv shows) + artists that readily come to mind!! thank you again for your question anon, i love stuff like this so much and i love discussing films and art hehehe <33

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1.     They want to see if they can fuck you.

2.     They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3.     They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.  

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of  a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected.  He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you ­­out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.