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velvetures · 1 year

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Honorifics

A/N: Yeah... I don't know about this. I'll probably take it down since I'm unsure if it's got enough of a consistent vibe. Let me know if it's actually something you enjoy since I don't write angst or hurt/comfort often. I ALWAYS WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS THO. That's a damn promise. Summary: You've given Ghost a title he hates, and takes it out on you. The situation goes too far, and you're both left trying to figure it out. Reader is nicknamed "Brass" since she's a long-distance shooter/sniper. T/W: angst, cursing, Ghost being an emotionally unstable human, yelling, the reader having a breakdown, smidge of not eating, smidge of not drinking anything, comfort, feelings, female reader, not proofread.

When you joined the task force, things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would. Training sessions usually ended up with you either getting your ass beat or nearly surviving a full-on embarrassment by the skin of your teeth just to be told that you still weren’t in good enough shape to keep up with them in the field. Surely being a woman didn’t excuse you from being in shape for the kind of work Laswell and Price had brought you in for, but damn if it wasn’t difficult to try and have a one-on-one fight with someone like Soap or Ghost without the benefit you would typically have in a real-world battle situation. The reality that all of the men in the squad were literally the best of the best aside, there could be just barely enough room for you to compete on the same level when it came to sheer physical strength. While that wasn’t your specialty anyway, the Captain made it clear you needed to prove you could handle your own against serious physical fights without assistance. After nearly five weeks of having one of your squad mates slam you on your ass one too many times in the training hall, you finally were able to prove to Price that you could go out in the field and he didn’t have to extend any extra worries for your ability to survive.

Logistically as a sniper, it meant you frequently held a much more distant role in missions. By watching from a scope you could ensure that infiltrations, covert ops, and other hush-hush kinds of operations that typically the 141 wouldn’t have the luxury of. Being the skilled marksman you were, it made sense to take advantage of your talents and also extend you a job that progressed past what you’d experienced in your “standard” military career and multiple tours overseas. However, that meant communications were essentially the backbone of your usefulness aside from your rifle. Next to nothing else, your daily and mission-based work almost exclusively went through Lieutenant Ghost. Which… often proved to be the largest obstacle that you faced aside from making sure that your scope didn’t get bumped off sight the -often- rough flights and drives to insertion points.

The Lieutenant was particularly mean… he certainly didn’t give a single thought to if anyone thought that he was a little too harsh of a personality to swallow. That went for everything you came to learn about Ghost. From his lack of willingness to speak unless required of him, to his unique ability of appearing and disappearing from anywhere without the slightest sound or hint of where he’d come from or gone to. Trained as a distance marksman, even you were impressed that such a massive man could move around like smoke on water. That and his physical appearance; good god above. Surely a man like Ghost had never graced the face of the Earth before, else he’d have been just as mythical in his legendary life and would’ve been known by thousands of people. He stood towering over just about everyone, in whatever room he was in, and compared to your own height it was downright laughable the difference between the two of you as operators.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on you after meeting the Lieutenant was his voice and how he spoke. That thick accent always sounded rough and a little gritty. His deep timbre gave such a commanding authority that if given the choice between getting yelled at by Captain Price or Ghost… there was no choice you’d sit for hours listening to Price threaten you over Ghost. He just sounded so scary and attractive all at the same time. Unsurprisingly, it developed into a subconscious dynamic where you saw Ghost as such a superior officer -and human- that no matter how much you liked to daydream about Ghost in less-than-professional situations… You gave him the utmost respect at all times. Easiest of all to recognize was that from day one, you had never addressed Ghost to his face as anything other than ‘sir’. Not even his rank gave enough nuance to his character and presence, so for you, Ghost was inextricably attached to the name.

Ghost however… didn’t like it.

Such a simple address actually made Ghost grit his teeth beneath the shield of his mask. When he heard you call him that, he automatically related it to how he had called General Shepherd ‘sir’ as a subtle sign of mockery and defiance. Thinking about that made him more than necessarily angry and confused, but he couldn’t really accuse you of having ever been given much of a reason to detest him. Therefore, he had to come to the conclusion that you were doing it out of some kind of respect that a drill sergeant or boot camp instructor had bashed into your brain so hard that it stuck permanently. Not surprising since you were much different from the rest of the task force. Yet he had to revise that after the first six months of you being with them permanently. You had gotten settled in. Enough so that you called the Captain, ‘Cap’… Soap, ‘Johnny’… and Garrick, ‘Gaz’ like everyone else did. Exceptionalities only appeared when it came time for you to be around him or have any sort of interaction that wasn’t the occasional silent nod of acknowledgment when walking past each other in the hallways.

He honestly tried to ignore it and you altogether for that matter in an attempt to keep his bitter anger at a minimum. Seeing such a small and fucking happy woman always lingering around somewhere in the corners of his sight couldn’t be anything but a distraction waiting to happen. A bad habit that he didn’t have the mental capacity or emotional willingness to take on. Fuck… he already had to worry about the 141 as a whole, to begin with. Now you on top of that? It was more responsibility than he’d signed up for initially. Hearing you call him ‘sir’ day in and day out began to take its toll on his self-control. Ghost needed to either find out why you were hellbent on calling him that, or at least be enough of a bastard to you to be reassured that you did it because you wanted a polite way to tell him to shove it up his ass sideways.

The Lieutenant had been being nothing short of a prick in the last few months.

He was making paperwork back at HQ a nightmare that couldn’t be solved alternatively through someone like Gaz or Soap who often didn’t mind playing the part of the unbiased third party. Refusing to sign things when you stopped by his office, outright ignoring your necessary questions, and stonewalling you at every single stop along the way just to yield at the last moment and do everything you’d been asking for so the both of you wouldn’t face heat from any higher-ups. That alone was enough for you to consider talking to Soap privately since he knew Ghost the best… but you’d kept putting it off hoping that it was just a passing phase of shitty attitude.

Your patience and emotional strength fell through the floor after attempting for the third time in a week after something so fucking simple as trying to get his approval and official signature on a post-mission report Price had delegated to you after being called to Washington D.C. for a meeting. It wasn’t a major task, but knowing that the Captain had given you the responsibility first over anyone else made you want to impress him and take care of business without incident. God forbid you do something as simple as ask Ghost to pick up a pen and scribble his name at the bottom of a page so that you could send it on through the higher-up channels. It resulted in the Lieutenant straight-up yelling at you in the middle of the hallway outside his office when he’d found you standing there patiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t threatening physically, but it cut much deeper into your pride and feelings than it should have.

With every word that dripped venomously out of his masked mouth, you lost a little extra peace of mind on having such an untouchable and unshakably good opinion of Ghost for so long. This moment of undeserved verbal punishment was enough to make the corners of your eyes burn with inner disgrace, self-doubt, and plain old sadness which motivated you to get the hell out of there before the Lieutenant saw you cry. When you turned your back and walked away right in the middle of his berating for you being “too fucking annoying to tolerate”, your only destination was your personal quarters on the other end of the building where a lock on the door could shut out the entire base for as long as you saw fit. Upon the first estimation, it would be after Captain Price returned so that you could have at least one single chance at not getting a second punishment or dismissal from the squad. The sound of your door slamming shut and your back sliding down against it on your way down to the floor silenced the entire room around you, leaving just enough room for the papers clenched to your chest to flutter onto the ground and your weak cries to sounds amplified.

It was hours before you could drag yourself off the floor and into bed, too tired and wanting to fall back on the trained and instinctual desire to hide away somewhere isolated and not move for hours on end. Being a long-distance marksman gave you the talent of patience insurmountable to the average person, allowing days to pass by without you needing to do more than go to the bathroom before coming right back to a motionless position. That’s what you wanted tonight. You needed to focus all of your energy into your brain alone and use it to sort through the hurt burning through your eyes and throat, and the questioning that gave such a sickening feeling a chance root in your stomach. Questions of if it had been foolish to trust Ghost as much as you did the others, knowing how you’d been warned that he would be difficult to work with. Hoping you hadn’t been truly so ignorant of judging behavior to think that the Lieutenant was something much greater than his behavior had been not only today but for the past months.

The next two days were spent laying near motionless… not hungry or thirsty.

Just thinking, sleeping, and staring at the wall across from your bed.

A solid knock on your door was the first human sound that hadn’t been made by you in over forty-eight hours. You’d not looked at your phone or any communications since locking yourself inside, and there was a good chance someone from the squad had come searching for you after such a long period without seeing or hearing from you. When you refused to answer right away, another harder knock banged on the door twice and rattled the steel in its doorframe. Impatient. Testy. Quite familiar with everything you’ve been through lately. Recognizing the Lieutenant was the one outside made your gut churn all over again. Questioning whether to get up or not wasn’t hard. Laying perfectly still in bed, you waited. If you were being honest though, it’d been a long time since you’d spent so long restricting yourself from basic needs for the purpose of acting like a living phantom. Close to three years since any sniper position had left you utterly abandoned without resources. Only this time it was self-induced and nothing short of a trauma response you wanted to hide away from. Truthfully you couldn’t tell if walking to the door was an easy feat or not. After not drinking anything, using the bathroom wasn’t necessary and the last time you’d stood up didn’t cross your memory clearly.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door again one last time. But he didn’t wait long enough for you to answer before rattling the handle to the door with a heavy sigh that was audible through the cracks separating you. Metal on metal gritted softly and moved the door handle a bit further. Recognizing that as nothing short of Ghost picking the lock to your quarters without the slightest care of how he’d be breaking multiple stipulations laid out for them living in HQ. Either your physical or mental state kept you from giving a damn when the handle gave way fully, leaving a bright fluorescence light flooding in from the hallway into your pitch-black room. It made your eyes water and the urge to turn your head away was strong enough to budge your head into the blankets and pillow surrounding. Heavy boots made the paperwork scattered on the floor crunch softly and the sound of his deep breaths gave away his current state of frustration. Clearly not appreciating being locked out of a room that he had no fucking business being in. A long pause led to shuffling around, and the sound of your desk chair creaking under his weight.

“Gonna say somethin’?” He sounded no less irritated than the last time you’d spoken.

It made your throat burn to even think you’d allowed his to get in your head so deeply just to utterly rip every last bit of security and respect away from you for no damn reason. Your silence made quite the statement, even if the actual task of speaking hadn’t been a totally voluntary one. You’d not moved your jaw in days at this point.

“You’ve missed five drill sessions, two mandatory meetings, and one phone from General Shepherd.”

Listing off your offenses hardly bothered you. The consequences of this had been fully accepted days ago, and Ghost would have to do a lot more to get you up from this bed. You’d trained for hell, and no matter how badly Ghost had ruined your almost loving and patient view of him there weren’t enough men on the planet to make you get up voluntarily. Drastic… yes. Satisfying to your own pride… undoubtedly. When you didn’t even let out a single breath loud enough for Ghost to hear instead of that instant apology or willingness to appease him… please him even, with that little quip of ‘sir’ ready on your tongue, the Lieutenant was up out of that chair so quickly you heard it roll into the wall behind him hard enough to thud against the drywall.

“Goddamn it Brass, I demand a fuckin’ answer!” His loud bark caught your attention, but the feeling of your blankets being ripped off your body was a far more startling sensation.

Baring you to the cold air of the room, all your body managed was to raise chills on your skin in a feeble attempt to keep you warm or alert you to seek out that heat again. Tension exploded into shocked silence when Ghost didn’t utter more than a sharp inhale after getting one, shadowed glimpse of your body totally frozen on your stomach. You knew it couldn’t look great. Snipers could come back looking like skeletons sometimes after a long mission if they were given the orders to stay put. You’d not been laying nearly long enough for that to be the case, but dehydration was certainly a symptom you were ignoring quite easily, as well as the possibility of some minor pressure ulcers that would linger for a few weeks if you didn’t move soon. Ghost wasn’t as familiar with the sight of how you felt internally. Snipers weren’t commonly used or in collaboration with Task Force 141. You’d been their first real look at how the inner workings moved or didn’t, and much of your personal way of doing things had dispelled or blown away any misguided assumptions they’d made about your skills early on. Viewing a sniper after days of doing literally nothing, of her own free will…? That wasn’t healthy or accepted in general military companies. Lucky Ghost got the front-row seat though.

When you heard his movement next to you, weight pressed down the mattress at your side in the shape of his hands, and a low sigh registered.

“Brass…” Failing to even say something, you wondered if your own assessment of yourself wasn’t accurate. “It’s been five days.” His faltered tone was truthful, and it destroyed your semblance of time that had been misled by the absence of sunlight coming in through your room.

You thought about trying to say something, resolve falling flat when swallowing felt difficult. A gloved hand rested against your thigh and Ghost almost growled again, sounding a lot more like he was resisting the urge to squeeze you hard. Only his fingers traced along your hip and over the curve in your waist with a tense and heavy swallow. He was being gentle beyond your concept of his depth of emotion and understanding. Nearly loving as he paused over your ribcage with another pinched sort of sound. Staying like that for what felt like hours, you struggled to keep yourself awake. It had been a struggle to move your tongue in your mouth, testing what mobility you’d lost in the short term. Only Ghost wasn’t leaving like you expected, and suddenly his voice returned it its normal stature.

“This’s Ghost. Get a bay ready now, I’m bringin’ someone in.” The reverb of his voice crackled in a radio you knew hooked to his vest. A backup short-range alternative in the case that SAT couldn’t be established or wasn’t clear enough to rely on in the field. Apparently, he used it to keep in contact with someone on base. Or multiple people for all you knew.

“Copy Ghost.” A static voice could be heard and quickly the room was pitched back into a silence you wanted to remain in, but Ghost was adamant to keep infracting alone with a whole list of other rules that, for whatever reason, just didn’t fucking matter or apply to him.

His other hand searched around the dark until he found your face resting amongst the fabric of your bed, curling his hand around your head and meticulously lifting you so very slowly away from the bed with his other arm steadying your legs that had also been taken up off the mattress. You’d never touched Ghost once in all the time you’d known him. Understanding that with his sour attitude, there couldn’t be a single chance in Hell that touching him was an acceptable action. Whereas with Soap, Gaz, and even on occasion Price: hugs, handshakes, shoves, and other physical touches were common, Ghost totally ignored all human contact. Maybe Hell had frozen over outside of your quarters for your weak and still motionless body to be lifted up against the Lieutenant’s chest and carried preciously outside of your room into the burning light of HQ. His chest heaved deep and quickly against you. Both hands curled around you and flexed tighter each time you were able to hear another set of shoes approaching closer to you. Possessive like a soldier. Silent like a Ghost. Determined.

He takes you straight to the medical hall where three nurses and two of the on-shift doctors are fast to respond to your condition. Only Ghost refuses to let them take you away from him for any reason. Stoically stonewalling them just like he habitually did to you as they begged him to lay you down on a transport bed so they could take you back to a room for assessment. The Lieutenant took you there himself, with the group of nurses and doctors hot on his heels and surrounding your bed once Ghost had you settled down inside a private room.

The whole place smells sterile and like alcohol. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but these are far different circumstances. You’re still too sensitive to open your eyes, but hands are all over your body, gloves fingers touching around the sore places on weight-bearing points on your body, pricks in your fingertips, and a needle poke to the back of your hand. It’s overstimulating, to say the least, and you’re worried they’re going to think you’ve tried to starve yourself to death or decided that living altogether wasn’t worth it and simply wasting away into your bed was the solution. Right away, one of the voices of the medical professionals breaks that worry in your mind by calling for some of the tests to be staggered, needing time between them for nothing other than your own benefit.

“Treat this no differently than prolonged active reconnaissance,” The female voice states softly. “Being on-the-gun for this long is detrimental to all senses, and she’s going to need a while to wake up in a meaningful way.” She added, voice coming clearer the closer she got to your head.

“You’ve been working very hard, I suspect. Maybe not in the field… but you’re one tough lady.” She commented to you quite personally, her hand falling to your shoulders. “We’re going to get you plenty of fluids and start you on a vitamin drip to get everything running as it should again. You’ve also got some slight bedsores, but as long as we take care of them now, you’ll be right as rain soon, sniper.”

Tests were run, treatments began, and nurse after nurse was brought in with both doctors running rotations in and out of your room for the rest of the night. All of them were under the hard watch of Ghost who’d not moved from his position sitting in the corner of your room where he could see not only you but anyone approaching the door. He’d been very quiet throughout the process, watching and waiting for someone to give him some news about your condition with actual certainty. Stewing over the guilt he felt knowing damn well he was the reason you’d shut down so far and were still unable -or unwilling- to come out of it yet. You’d been nothing but the perfect little woman, doing her job with skill and grace, making everyone around you happier just with one glance in your direction. But fuck, he couldn’t stand seeing someone do the callous profession of killing people with one single squeeze of her finger and still have so much innocent and emotional humanity inside such a small body. Ghost couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So instead of trying to do the right thing and figure it out, he did what a man so out of touch with empathy did: Try to snuff it out.

You threatened him whether you or he realized it in the beginning.

But now he could see it with that crystal fucking clear hindsight. How monstrous he was for punishing you with no foundation other than his own selfish fear of seeing a dynamic he didn’t know was possibly wrapped up inside of you. Sweet and little you, never saying anything to him other than a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’. Goddamnit Ghost knew he’d nearly killed you in a way. Seeing days of neglect in your sallow expression, darkened under eyes, and weakened body was more than even his cold heart could take all at one time. Wasting away for someone as useless as himself, all because he’d never given you enough credit for finding something worth liking in him where no one else had. Screaming at you. Cursing your existence. Right in your face, while he’d been too big of a pussy to even take off his own mask he hid behind every day as he utterly destroyed your meaningful position and life working alongside of his and his squad. Owing you his life wouldn’t nearly cover his offenses. Laughably, Ghost admitted his own life or death couldn’t measure up to yours. So instead of saying any kind of bullshit apology, he sat in the corner of your room and denied himself sleep, food, and water because there wasn’t anything else he could do until you’d been considered healthy and strong again.

Almost one week to the day you had been signed off for return to duty with zero restrictions. Your physical and mental evaluations came back clean, and with both Price and Ghost signing off on the doctor’s orders, you returned to your quarters where you expected to see your room exactly as you’d left it before Ghost brought you into the medical wing. Only nothing was as you’d left it. All the paperwork left on the floor was gone, as well as the other documents that had been left on your desk that still needed finishing. All of it was gone. Your bed and all of the bedclothes you’d been taken from were also missing. Replaced with totally brand new bedding in dark hues of dark green and navy blue with a decidedly feminine pattern on the quilt. Items you didn’t own. Or have any idea where they came from. Even the smell of stale air was traded for a woody, and familiar smell that wasn’t of a candle, or room spray; It was from a person. The person who sat in the corner of your room in your desk chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes staring at you through the painted visage of a skull gracing a black compression mask.

“Sir,” You greet hoarsely, still working through some of the non-significant parts of your recovery that lingered. Ghost stood from his seat and met you halfway across your room with a silent nod, his hand reaching out and motioning for you to step closer to him. Warily but complicit, you make the few steps forward and watch his hand turn to slide against your jaw and stay there firmly. “I expected you to be at drill.” You say with a tinge of surprise at the touch of his bare hand resting against your cheek.

“Should be,” He replied flatly. “But I’m not.” You nod a little, biting your tongue when his fingertip rubs over the curve of your ear. His eyes were soft and his unarmored physique was highlighted by the shadows made by the lamp on your side table. He’s inspecting you, you know as much. Clear by his thumb pressing over your pulse point and the minute exactly that he waits before speaking again.

“Do you like the color green?” His question knocks you off guard and his eyes slide over the quilt laying neatly over your bed. You were quick to answer honestly out of mere habit.

“Yes, sir.”

His hand stiffens against your cheek, and Ghost takes another step closer. His boots graze the tips of yours and his chin is nearly tucked against his chest to look down at you properly. You’re breathing a little harder, anticipating another break of his patience and an onslaught of screaming all directed at your apparent mistakes made right in front of his face. Judgments you’d still be unable to solve no matter how much you thought about it or what you did to try and find a solution of healthy -or not- motives. Ghost doesn’t yell though. He actually lowers his face down to yours, eyes locked right on you and an intensity burning there.

“Why do you call me that?” His low growl made you shiver, especially when his hand dropped lower to your throat. Now squeezing, but holding your gaze steady on him, reminding you of his strength. The power over you he’d always held, and given you the instant to call him ‘sir’ in the first place. Everything about Ghost was overwhelming, and you’d always been one wave away from drowning under him.

“You deserve the honor…” You answer, certain. Even if he’d broken your spirit and came back in the aftermath with questions you still believed to be much too complex for a single-sentence answer. Hopefully, he understood a little bit better but the way you leaned against his hand, letting him actually feel the pressure of your throat pressing into his palm. Literally offering your trust in him over again, testing the Lieutenant and watching as his eyes widened. His other hand came up to your face, counteracting the pressure you’d applied to keep your breath and blood flow uninterrupted. His face is still only inches away from yours but unflinching at the close contact.

“Brass,” He murmured, masked face teasing closer with his own lack of control. “I’m not what you think I am.” Your chest tightens with his words, soaked in desperation that heats your lips and cheeks.

“What’s that, sir?” You question, earning another flinch of his fingers against your skin.

“Safe… Trustworthy… Honorable.” He replies, getting even closer. The smooth material ghosted over your lips, and his breathing fanning over you wetly through the damp material. You sigh, feeling lightheaded. Weak in his hands, confused yet happy to have your life held in the palms of his hands. Confused about where his mistrust comes from, but gaining perspective every time he flinches when you address him in the way you always believed he’d feel the most revered and… loved.

“You’re wrong,” You challenge, hands moving from your sides to run up the thin shirt covering his chest. “You’re a man of fear. One that death shakes at the mention of. Even looking at you through my scope a mile away is enough to remind me you’re capable of inhuman things…” Your voice lowers, hearing thoughts straight from your soul escaping without filter from your brain. “Yet you’re human. So much more than anyone sees. Because it’s not evil that keeps you going. It’s the fear and hatred of losing anything that means something to you.” Your hand rests over his chest, hearing his heart thundering against his ribs.

“You’re not a monster, you are terrified of losing everything. That is why I call you ‘sir’, is because you’re a man unlike any other, Ghost.”

Hearing your own voice say his name like that feels so foreign. Coming off your tongue with the letters not fitting together in a way that you’d experienced. But Ghost… he reacts differently. His hands tightened around you and he hugged you against his chest tightly. His chest heaves up and down and the thunder of his heartbeat impossibly quickens until your left ear can’t hear anything but the repetitive thrum of blood coursing through his body. Heavy arms snake around you, one around your head to secure it to him and the other clinging to your waist with his hand fisting into your shirt until it’s skin-tight on your stomach. The Lieutenant practically shakes against you, using your much smaller frame to steady himself.

Yet he’s dropping to one knee on the ground, bringing you down with him until he’s nearly cradling you and softly rocking your weight back and forth. Soothing himself in much the same way a child would after scraping their knee on the sidewalk and the tears have begun to dry up. God, it made the massive man feel so weak; much like you did after he’d yelled at you a week ago. Both of you kneeled on the floor now with all of your wounds opened up to each other and had silently found a calm within the eye of a destructive storm that had been raging against the pair of you while everyone on the outside had been simply looking on with bated breath to see how the ending would play out.

“Brass - I…” Ghost’s voice choked up again, his arms tightening around you. “God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ignore you anymore… I’m losing my mind.”

You lean into his chest harder, arms struggling to reach all the way around his wide back in an attempt to support him a little bit. You understood through the way he was grabbing at anything on you he could desperately. So you did all you could and rubbed your hand up and down his back quietly allowing him the time to work through his thoughts. Both of you had been hurt by this, and while the Lieutenant’s form of apology came in the way he’d ushered you for help when you needed it most and unquestionably been the reason behind the way your quarters looked. Now it was you, cradling a man who’d never shown a single crack in his armor, feeling the weight of so many emotional wounds that he was practically bleeding out with pain and palpable regret.

“You don’t have to…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Ghost just nods his head, panting heavily and giving a low sort of whine. “I’m so sorry…”

You smile sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

His eyes soften more, blinking away at wetness brimming at his waterline. “Say it again… please. I need to hear it. God, please.”

“It’s okay…” Your hands cradle his cheeks, feeling the sharp lines and hard muscles. “I’m right here, Ghost. We’re going to do this over again… Together, Ghost.”

Nodding weakly, he meets your gaze as you say his name again. Reveling in it. “Together… together, with you.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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darknight3904 · 18 days

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𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘰. 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘴. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 (2017). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘕𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.1𝘬

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Logan was always a mystery to you. His brooding nature and gruff voice reminded you of an old tomcat that used to live in the bushes of the school.

You remember the first time you met him, he had been smoking a cigar in his room unknowingly letting the smoke waft into your room across the hall. You had told him off, telling him he was a bad influence for the kids around him and he had shrugged you off and dismissed your worries for the youth.

"I don't see any kids around here right now."

"They're all over the place, Logan. This is a school."

Most of your relationship had been like that, friendly banter, the occasional fight over something stupid, but at the end of the day friends who could trust one another.

At some point, you had grown tired of your life at the school. Tired of teaching kids Geometry and running missions that grew staler each year. Eventually, you left, packed up your junky Chevy, and bid farewell to the aging Professor with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug.

Logan hadn't said much to you that day. Only that you ought to stay, something about the team still needing you.

"Thought you hated being an X-Man, Logan."

"I'll hate it a lot less if you stick around."

You drove south and found yourself in rural Pennsylvania. Perhaps it wasn't entirely legal, taking up residence in some old cabin that time had forgotten. Not that it mattered much since three years after leaving the school, Logan showed up at your door, pounding on the wood of your front door like the world was ending. All it took was one look at the unconscious professor in the backseat of some car Logan must've stolen for you to start packing your bags.

Now, you were sitting in Mexico, sweating your ass off daily, hoping that Charles would be alright and not kill you and Caliban while Logan was at work.

"He's late."

"Yes, Caliban, I can read the clock you know." You sigh

Logan was getting slower by the day. When he had showed up at your door four years ago you had barely recognized him. Sure, he was has muscle-filled and imposing as ever, but his face and hair had changed so much. Wrinkles and scars filled his handsome face and there was more grey than brown hair on his face and head.

"I need you."

His words echoed in your mind even now, a year later.

"What if he-"

"He's fine. He's just slow." You sigh trying to focus on the book in your lap. Caliban was such a worry wart.

"He's not. And neither are you. Both of you, there's something wrong." Caliban said, motioning to your exposed arms where your veins were purple and swollen, making your skin look hideous, "We should go to a doctor. They can-"

"Can we not have twenty minutes of peace?! If Charles isn't driving me insane with his babbling about Taco Bell, it's you with all your questions." You groan, slamming the book in your lap shut, "I am fine."

Logan's grumpy attitude had rubbed off on you it seemed. You left Caliban and locked yourself in the little bathroom you all shared.

The pale-skinned mutant was right. Something was wrong. With you, with Logan. Logan's seemingly invincible healing was failing him. As for you, your entire body had been crisis-crossed with your veins appearing like horrible bruises on your skin. In some places, like your hands they were even raised, pulsing painfully at times. Your face had been spared so far. You guessed that was due to the slow aging process you had been given as a part of your mutation. It was only a matter of time before your face suffered though, you were sure of it.

Not that it mattered though. You had given up looking pretty months ago. After you got settled in Mexico, you found yourself plagued with thoughts of Logan. Never in your life had you found yourself attracted to him, sure you were aware that he was good-looking, everyone was. The older teen girls at the school in particular would often giggle and whisper when he'd enter the room, then again he was always wearing those boot-cut jeans that made his legs look fabulous. Yet you had always been immune to that pretty face, content with simple friendship.

The first month after you finally fell into a groove with Logan, Charles, and Caliban had been tough, but after that? It was like you were losing your mind. Logan was consuming your thoughts. Even when you were at work, cleaning some shitty local motel, you thought of him. Anything would remind you of him, from empty booze bottles in the motel trash cans to a forgotten leather jacket a guest left in the closet.

Even at night, you weren't safe from him invading your thoughts. Some nights you'd wish for him to be holding you close, big arms cuddling you, keeping you safe. Some nights were less family-friendly and you'd picture him on top of you, wringing multiple orgasms out of you while he grunted about how good you felt.

The result of those thoughts? Each day when he'd return from driving that damn limo, you'd wait at the door like a trained dog, happy and excited to see him. You'd try to get him to talk about his night, what clients he drove, which were the craziest, who was loudest. Other times you'd cook a nice meal for him with whatever was sitting in the janky fridge Caliban had gotten up and running. Every once in a while, he'd even lay his head in your lap on the couch and let you weave your hands through his graying hair.

It had gone like that for about three months until one day he snapped.

"Don't you ever shut your damn mouth? Fuck all you do is talk! Can't you see I'm tired!? I don't need you interrogating me every time I come back here!"

You had taken his words harder than you expected and before you knew it, your veins were bruising and rising. Your own powers were turning on you, just like his were.

You hadn't bothered trying to pursue anything more from Logan since that day. You didn't bother with your appearance in front of him, why should you? He wasn't interested in you after all. Not to mention if he wasn't interested in you before, why would be be when your own veins were making you look like Grimace from McDonald's.

Now, you primarily had short conversations with him. Usually, they were about Charles and what meds he needed, and how much they were going to cost. Occasionally, the two of you'd sit with a bottle of booze and reminiscence over what your lives once were, as X-Men.

The sound of tires screeching had you exiting the bathroom. He might've been an asshole but you still cared about him.

Logan slowly walked in, a bit of a limp in his step from some fight he had gotten in the other day. He went right for the fridge where cold beers sat, ignoring Caliban's squawking.

"Goin' away for a bit." He said as he slumped into a kitchen chair, looking at you

"Where?' You asked curiously

"Booked a long ride. When I get back we're buying the Sunseeker." Logan said

"Who's the ride for?" You asked, curious as to who would book the world's grumpiest driver for a cross-country road trip

"Some rich lady," Logan replied, sipping on his beer.

He was definitely lying. You wanted to get out of Mexico, perhaps it was better like this. Logan would get the remaining cash and you'd finally get out of here.

"Here." Logan said, tossing the pills for Charles on the table, "Don't let him miss any doses."

Logan shuffles towards you and stops when you look up at him. Tired eyes meet your own.

"I'll be gone a few days, just a few. Then we're leavin', bub" He whispers

You nod and decide to indulge yourself by gently resting your ugly-looking hands on his chest that's covered with a white dress shirt.

Your heart skips a beat when he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before walking off to put Charles to bed. Logan's never done that before, usually, he'd reject any physical contact from you, even back in the day he was never into physical touches.

You watch as the limo disappears down the road, carrying Logan off to whatever mystery client he had, if he even had one.

"He'll be back." Caliban's voice calls, trying to assure you

"I know." You sigh

"Don't you have work?" He asked as you lay down on the couch.

"Day off. My bitch of a boss doesn't want to pay to have more than one housekeeper at the motel each day." You say

"Cheap bastard," Caliban says, shaking his head

You let out a snort of laughter.

"You're telling me. The other day he told me to reuse the garbage bags in the rooms, just to dump the trash into the outside dumpster."

"They'll be roaches everywhere." Caliban laughs

"Can't wait to clean those up too." You sigh closing your eyes

The screeching of metal wakes you up from your dreamless sleep. You slowly sit up, groaning when your arm begins to tingle, it must've fallen asleep somehow.

"It's her, she's here!"

"Professor, back to the tank." You groan at the old man, not wanting to listen to his blabbing. The dementia got worse each day.

"It's Laura!" He exclaims

You huff and slump backward into the couch. You loved the Professor but he was exhausting sometimes.

You quickly stand up and stop him from wheeling himself outside. The sound of a car door slamming has a cold sweat running down your back. Logan was gone, who could be outside? Whoever it was you prayed they were weak, you weren't even sure that you could use your powers, let alone fight someone with them.

"Stay, put. If something goes wrong, get back to the tank and lock the door." You command

"Laura," Charles says again, listening to you and remaining still

You step out into the hot sun, not expecting Caliban to be standing next to Logan. A blonde man with a metal hand and aviator glasses stands and asks about Charles. You look at the newcomer, trying to figure out what his deal was. He was human, even with failing powers, you and Logan were stronger, did he have a death wish?

"Whoo, look at that. Not one X-Man but two? The Wolverine and....I'm sorry sweetie what was your name again?" The man suddenly smiles, looking at you.

"Get out of here, asshole," Logan says, placing a hand on the blonde man's chest, preventing him from taking another step towards you

"Tell me, sweetie, do you know where the girl is? Wolverine here seems to have misplaced her." He asks

"There's no girl here." You answer

A loud shout startles you and a metal pipe whizzes past you and Logan to strike the intruder on the head.

Laura is an interesting character. You watch from afar as she shoves cereal in her mouth.

"What the fuck is this?" You ask Logan who doesn't have an answer for you.

The rumble of the train goes by and Charles calms the girl who jumps from her seat.

"Look, we're leaving. That guy who she knocked out, he knows everything about us. Get your stuff together." Logan says, handing a bag to you

You groan but listen and scamper off to your room. Your "room" was really just a small double bed surrounded by sheets Logan had strung up on strings after you said you needed more privacy from him and Caliban.

You shove clothes into the bag along with a couple of dusty books to keep you busy on the road. As much as you'd like to, you doubted Logan was going to let you drive at all.

Logan's deep voice shouts your name and you dash out to the kitchen to see Laura eating her food, unbothered. Her eyes glance at the outside world where you can see Logan shoving Charles' wheelchair into the trunk.

"What's happening?" You ask frantically, dropping your bag into the dirt, forgetting its importance.

"Get in." Logan commands

You quickly jump into the passenger seat, shoving the empty bottles of Jack Daniels aside. You'll have to yell at Logan for that later on. Drinking himself into a hole wasn't going to help whatever was happening to him.

The blonde man must have to do with the amount of trucks that are surrounding you all. Logan curses as he tries to maneuver the limo out of the smelting plant. Much to your dismay, you're quickly surrounded with nowhere to go. Charles murmurs about Laura again as Logan tells him to shut up.

If it were twenty years ago, you'd be able to make a path. Your powers had never been pretty but they were effective. If only you were able to use them now on all these men who were exiting these vehicles, they'd be nothing but blood stains in the dirt. Head popping was never pretty but it was efficient.

The blonde man is back and shouting in Spanish. You wonder what has become of Caliban as you glance at Logan whose mind is certainly racing, trying to create an escape for you all.

"Hey there, Sweetie." The blonde says leaning his elbow on the windowsill and leaning into the car, "Charles Xavier, America's most wanted octogenarian."

"I'm a nonagenarian actually." Charles quips back, proud of his old age.

"Logan." You whisper looking at him.

You're certain you can still use some bit of your powers. If Logan could cut just one of these men open, you'd be able to carve a way out of this situation. It'd be painful but you could do it. Maybe.

Logan lets out a growl and shoves his door open into one brute who steps too close to the limo. You jump out of your own door, hot on his heels as the blonde man keeps his men from gunning you both down.

You let out a loud shout of Logan's name when the men begin to beat him. One man comes up from behind you and pins you arms behind your back, he's stronger than your weak body and slams you face-first onto the hood of the limo.

"Find the girl."

The men spread out as you struggle in his hold. Logan's pinned down by the threat of at least 6 guns aimed at his face.

"Careful, Williams. You're gonna break her nose." The blonde man says looking at the way your face is harshly pushed into the metal of the car

"She deserves it. Mutant freak." The man above you, Williams, scoffs spitting down at you

"This mutant freak controls blood, you idiot. I don't wanna find out what she can do with it, do you?"

Williams looks down at you and you feel his spit trickle down your temple. He loosens his hold and lets you stand up, keeping his gun pointed at you.

The sound of gunfire breaks the tense stare-down you were having and your jaw nearly drops when you see Laura approach, a man's head in her arms.

Your jaw does drop when two silver claws appear and she begins to cut down the men. Logan tackles you to the ground and keeps you safe from the rain of bullets two men send at you.

"Get in the back with Charles, stay down." He orders, gritting his teeth as you hear the bullets pushing their way out of his skin.

Laura's feral screaming fills your ears along with the sound of flesh being cut through. The metallic scent of blood fills your nose as Logan pushes you into the limo.

"Logan I can help!" You shout

His only response is slamming the door in your face.

The limo is surely a sight as Logan speeds down the road. Charles' voice fills the silence as he talks to Laura about the X-Men. You look at Logan who looks, if it's even possible, angrier than he normally does.

"If you want me to apologize, I'm not going to. So stop pouting like a kid." You say, looking down at your blood-stained hands.

"M' not pouting. And what you did was dangerous." Logan says

"And what you did wasn't? I'm not a delicate flower, Logan. I don't need you hovering to keep me safe." You huff

"Yeah well when your brain blows up from that blood manipulation of yours, don't come crying to me," Logan grumbles

"Please, when that happens I'll die. No way for me to complain then." You scoff

Logan shakes his head and keeps his gaze on the road.

You want to slap him for his attitude. That or kiss him, you really can't tell. The angry protector vibe he had going on was as aggravating as it was attractive.

He was mad for what? You had saved him from getting an AR-15 getting unloaded into his chest. Sure, now your head was throbbing from the effort it had taken to use your powers. It wasn't even your own blood you had used, just some from a man on the ground, fashioning it into a simple tendril and impaling Logan's assailant through the chest.

"They're not normally like this." Charles whispers to Laura, "They work very well together. Good friends, sometimes I think they're more than that.

You groan at Charles' words. Something tells you you and Logan were going to be fighting a lot more now that you were trapped in a beat-up limo together.

"Don't tell her that." Logan chastizes

"Tell her what?" Charles asks innocently

"Made up fantasy shit," Logan replies

The casino Logan picks is a buzz with noise. You haven't been around this many people in years. It had a cold sweat breaking out on your skin. You wondered what was going through Charles' mind as he suddenly reached for your hand for assurance.

"You'll be alright. " You whisper to the old man who nods

A mannequin catches Laura's eye and Charles points out their lack of clothes.

You can't quite tell what's going through Logan's mind as he sits beside you on a soft sofa, waiting for Laura to come out of the dressing room. You can tell he's still upset from earlier when you used your powers to help him. You decide to throw him a bone as he taps his right foot with impatience.

"Sorry." You mumble

"What?" He asks

"I'm sorry." You say again quietly

"I can't hear you," Logan says turning your face to look at his, most likely so he can read your lips. What an old man.

"I said I was sorry. For earlier." You say, louder this time.

Behind Logan, you can see Charles inch his chair closer, hoping to eavesdrop on you and Logan.

Logan lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head. Your heart leaps to your throat when you hear the next words

"Don't worry bout' it, bub."

His big hand drops to your thigh and gently pats it assuringly.

"I would've done the same for you."

You place your own hand onto his and gently squeeze. His eyes meet yours and you swear they jump to your lips for a split second. You watch mesmerized as his tongue quickly appears to wet his lips before disappearing back into his mouth.

"Listen-"

Laura emerging from the dressing room breaks the trance he has on you and you jump up, fully flustered.

"Oh very nice." Charles coos at the little girl who is now in a unicorn shirt.

"Let's go." Logan gruffly says, brushing past you and towards the cash register.

You follow on Logan's heels as he limps to stand in line behind a little old lady. Laura and Charles are attempting to win at a claw machine that sits in the store a few feet behind you. Did Charles not see that the prize was poker chips? Laura wouldn't be able to do anything with the prize if they won. Whispers distract you from stopping the old man as he inserts money into the machine. Where did he even get the cash?

You glance to your right where three women stand. They're stylish, sleek, and vixenish with their tall heels, bodycon dresses, and sharp-winged eyeliner. You follow their pointed gaze to your own body and realize what they're giggling at. Your bruised arms, something you hadn't worried too much about before were drawing attention.

It wasn't just the women either, an older couple on your left are whispering as well.

"Oh my, what's happened to her?"

You feel a scowl pulling on your face, chasing away the good feeling Logan had left you with back in the dressing room.

You stomp over to a clothing rack filled with oversized hoodies. You snatch one off the hangers and walk back to Logan and shove it in his arms. He stumbles back a bit, not expecting you to be so harsh.

"I want this too." You demand before spinning on your heel to go find the nearest restroom.

Splashing cold water on your face is a luxury you had forgotten. Back in Mexico, the water in the pipes was always just a bit warm. Great for showers, but shitty for everything else.

You emerge from the bathroom to find your companions waiting for you. Logan tosses you your sweatshirt that stupidly says " I survived Oklahoma City Casino!".

If only you had picked out a plain one.

Logan hands you a key card to one room and then goes to open his own.

"Got a conjoining bathroom." He explains, "You and Laura can share that one."

You push the door open and are welcomed by the sight of an oversized king bed.

Laura immediately goes to the bathroom to open the doors that connect you to the Professor and Logan.

"Sit. Watch TV."

You hear Logan's stern voice speak to her. You can imagine his face as he says it. Stern, unmoving.

Logan limps into your room, shutting the bathroom door and sitting on the bed you're to share with the slightly feral child you've picked up.

Silence falls over you as you pretend to observe the ugly painting on the wall. You strained your ears trying to hear the TV next door. They'd done a good job soundproofing the rooms.

"What's wrong?" He huffs

"Nothing." You say, crossing the room to flop down on the big bed

"You've had a pissy look on your face since we left the dressing room." He points out, "More pissy than usual."

You roll your eyes but he can't see it since you've buried your face in the soft pillows.

You can tell Logan is still there, waiting for you to speak. You've got the feeling he's not going to leave you alone either, stubbornness was always a strong suit of his.

You flip yourself around and prop your head up on a pillow to look at him.

"Those women in the dresses and heels, they pissed me off." You admit

"What women?" Logan asks his face screwing up as he tries to recall who you were talking about, "There weren't any women."

"The one's in the tight dresses and heels." You say looking at him, not believing he hadn't noticed

Logan shakes his head again.

"It's my arms." You sigh, "I got comfortable in Mexico, you and Caliban never said anything about them. Not to mention Charles doesn't seem to care either."

You fiddle with a stray string that sticks out of the sleeve of your new sweatshirt. Machine-made stitching was always poor quality.

"I don't know what women you were seeing," Logan says, suddenly scooting up the bed and laying down beside you, "But I don't give a shit about what your arms look like."

"It's not just my arms, Logan." You softly breathe, thinking of the rest of you, marked with ugly bruises.

"Doesn't matter to me." He sighs with a wave of his hand

You feel tears pricking at your waterline and you willed them away. There wasn't even a reason to cry. He was just being nice, being a good friend.

"Are you crying?" Logan asks

"No." You lie

A warm tear slips down the side of your face and then all of a sudden they won't stop. You turn on your side and curl up into a fetal position. Maybe Logan will leave you alone now, he never liked dealing with his own feelings, let alone another person.

"Hey." He says, "Quit blubbering like some baby."

You're surprised when he suddenly scoops you up and places you in his lap. Big hands wipe at your tears and he hands you a tissue from the nightstand for your nose.

"Sorry." You sigh taking a deep breath to calm your nerves

Logan lets out a deep grunt and he lets his actions do his talking. One big hand rubs up and down your back to soothe you while the other is drawing circles on your knee.

"You shouldn't get so worked up about random people. Before you know it we'll be out on the Sunseeker, fishing and eating crab for dinner." Logan says

"Promise?" You ask

"Promise."

Part Two

652 notes · View notes

sttm99 · 2 months

Text

CW...? Recreational drug use, swearing

Unedited. I just wanted to get this out of my drafts

"Shit!"

Sero swore loudly as he gripped his phone, eyes narrowed and glaring into the screen, before he haphazardly threw it on to the bed next to his, Bakugo's, and the edge hit the blonde on his shin.

"Fuck is wrong with you, Duct Tape?!" Bakugo yells out in anger, immediately reaching down to rub St his shin, his other hand gripping his pillow in preparation to chuck it at Sero's head.

"Dude says supply's delayed. The stuff's coming tomorrow instead." Sero groans, falling backwards unto his own pillow, unconsciously but successfully evading the pillow Bakugo threw at his head.

"Seriously?" Kaminari groans loudly.

"Fuck," Bakugo grumbles. "I'm fucking stressed, I need some shit today."

Kirishima hums in affirmation and the boys all grumble in their shared bedroom.

UA had organised a week-long trip in a nice beach house near the edge of the city, for their year, a sort of getaway to welcome in the new session. At least that was what they were told. Classes A and I were paired together for the same week, seeing as the house wasn't big enough for all the classes to use at the same time.

And due to the fact that they'd been paired with a Management Course class, the Hero students had believed the trip to be solely for relaxation, and extracurricular.

And boy, were they wrong.

They'd been training non-stop.

Even the Management course students had to partake in some exercises alongside their daily assignments. It was only day 4 and everyone was nearing their breaking point.

Which was why Sero had convinced Bakugo, Kirishima and Kaminari to pool some money together and buy some weed to take the edge of their stress.

For some reason, Sero knew a supplier and ordered a batch of 35 grams, something to get them through the rest of the week, and the boys were admittedly excited for it to come, even Bakugo, despite his haughty words of not wanting shit inside his body.

Unfortunately, the supply got delayed to the next day.

"You guys though, I know where we can get some stuff." They all turned to look at Kaminari.

And that was how they began their journey to sneak up to one of the rooms the Management course girls were occupying, specifically the one belonging to one of Kaminari's 'friends'.

"I swear, if we get caught searching for weed, I'm fucking skinning you alive, dipshit." Bakugo grumbled, hands stuffed tightly in the pocket of his sweatpants as he padded softly across the hall of the second floor, right above his own.

It was late, way too late for this. The teachers were sleeping, their classmates were sleeping, everyone was sleeping due to the stress of the week. Heck, they should have been sleeping. But no! They'd all agreed to Sero's stupid idea of drinking lots of coffee right before training so they could still be awake afterwards in order to smoke.

Bakugo huffed in frustration. Why on earth did he ever think Sero had good ideas?

"Shhh," Kaminari whispered as he paused by a door, "You don't wanna wake up the wrong people." He had his ears pressed to the wood, trying to hear movement, determining if anyone was awake.

"You hear anything?" Sero whispered, leaning atop Kaminari's body.

"Yeah," he replied before softly knocking on the door.

There was silent for a moment, before hurried hushes and loud whispers could be heard from behind the door. Kaminari grinned slyly, Sero pumped his fists in the air, Bakugo rolled his eyes, inching forward as well.

A loud thud was heard, a shake against the door, then it was hastily pulled open, revealing a tall, blonde girl, in just tiny sleep shorts and a lacy bralette that did nothing to hide her breasts.

Kirishima quickly averted his eyes at that.

The girl didn't notice, the obvious tells of a high showing on her; loopy smile and blown out pupils. She swayed against the door, "Guys..." she said, her speech drawn out, "It's boys~"

But before she could continue, she was hastily shoved to the side, a yelp coming from her lips as her body fell to the left and another arm shot out to reduce how open the door was, shielding her and what Bakugo suspected to be other, barely dressed girls.

"What do you want? It's late?" Another girl popped into the frame, you.

Dressed in a small, tight fitting shirt and large, knee length shorts, you held the door close, your body blocking the boys from being able to see inside your room.

"(Y/n)," Kaminari greeted with a grin.

You quirked up a brow, eyes scanning over the boys he'd come with. Bakugo wanted to believe your gaze had lingered longer on him, because he couldn't tear his away from you.

Your eyes were dazed as well, pupils large, and your balance was off, but you were more clear headed that the blonde girl before you, and you had your eyes narrowed at them.

"Fuck do you want, Kami?" Bakugo could tell you were trying hard not to let your speech draw, but your voice was soothing, nice. "It's late."

But he was growing impatient, and just slightly frustrated with how his friends eyed you. Not like he even had any right to be possessive.

"You got any good stuff?" Kaminari whispered lowly, eyes as wide as his grin.

You furrowed your brows, trying to feign ignorance, even though they could smell the weed under the harsh scent of perfume you'd drowned yourself in to cover your tracks.

"You know..." Sero whined. "Good stuff."

Bakugo had had enough of their beating around the bush, shoving past the two boys and placing his hands on the frame and the wooden expanse of your door. You gasped as he leaned forward, getting his face close to yours, breathing in your labored breath, and giving you a sly grin at the scent of weed pouring from your lips.

"Weed. I smell it on you. Pass us some, will ya?" He said slowly, his voice low and so close to you.

You couldn't help the purse of your lips or how your gaze just momentarily drifted to his mouth.

"You wanna buy it? It's not free." You retorted.

"We got some coming tomorrow. We'll pay back."

You narrowed your eyes, considering it. You wanted to say 'no', he could be lying. But when he spoke to you in that stupidly sexy, raspy voice, with your head light from your blunt, you couldn't help but want to do what he said.

"I got pre-rolled blunts. How many you need?" You breathed out.

"Four." He muttered.

"Five," Kirishima interjected. "Shinsou's coming too." He said when Bakugo turned back to raise his brow at him.

You took the opportunity to admire his side profile.

"You pay back 10 grams, that's 5 skinny blunts." You spoke up.

"Deal," Bakugo whipped his head back to you, licking at his lower lip.

"You pay back tomorrow."

"Wait, noo~" a voice calls out from behind the door, and a mop of black hair enters the frame, arms wrapping around your shoulders, and you turn your attention to your friend. "We're gonna be at Kento's tomorrow." She said.

You pushed her off you, distaste curling your lips. "I'll be here. You can give it to me tomorrow."

Bakugo nodded once, his eyes wandering down your legs. "That's fine. The blunts then?" He asked.

You gave him a look once more before pushing the door open a bit more and turning round to walk into the room. He could see your legs wobble as you walked, could see your ass jiggle as you moved. He bit at his lower lip.

You almost tripped as you knelt between two beds, bending your torso to the ground and reaching underneath the bed on your left, your ass lifted in Bakugo's direction, in perfect view.

He felt himself begin to harden at the sight of it. You had to be doing it on purpose, tempting him.

All too soon, you were getting back up, a small box in your hand, and you picked out five pre rolled blunts, then you were pushing the box back underneath the bed and standing up, walking back over to the door and handing Bakugo the blunts.

"Don't forget tomorrow, you hear me?" You narrowed your eyes, knowing full well you probably didn't look the slightest bit intimidating.

Bakugo smirked down at you, leaning closer just a bit, drowning you in his height, his presence, the heat radiating off his body. "'Course I won't." He turned back momentarily to hand Sero and Kirishima the blunts.

"You can leave now," You said, smirking slightly, eyes dazed and lower lip caught between your teeth.

"See you tomorrow then?" Bakugo's voice was low, teasing.

"Of course." You responded softly, shutting the door as he pushed his weight off it and began walking away.

Kaminari quickly caught up to him, his arm coming to rest over Bakugo's shoulders, his body bumping into his. "Yo, the fuck was that?" He asked, voice low as he stared at Bakugo.

Bakugo grunted in response. "What? Fuck are you talking about?"

Sero scoffed as he matched their steps. "You were all over her. I could see your dick twitching."

"Why you looking, duct tape?"

But Sero only laughed at him.

"If you're interested go for it," the boy shrugged. "She's hot."

"Shut the fuck up." Bakugo spat, "You're gonna wake everyone."

"He's just mad he didn't get to hit." Kaminari snickered over to Sero.

Bakugo watched you in passing the next day. You were even prettier in the daylight, with your hair done, and dressed in casual clothes, smile wide as you conversed with you classmates.

Sero had managed to get the weed, 35 grams early in the morning, and Bakugo had fought the boys on who would be the one to give it to you. Now, as he trained with his classmates, perfecting their quirks and working on their physiques, he couldn't help catching sight of you all the time.

While your class had to do a 5k run as a mandatory physical exercise, before heading in to have a 2 hour class, consisting mainly of assessments and scenarios, Bakugo watched you as best as he could without getting caught.

"You're distracted." Sero snickered as he walked past Bakugo, shoving his elbow into Bakugo's side. "Looking at-"

"One more word and I'll incinerate you." Bakugo snarled, pushing Sero over the back of the couch.

"Bakugo?"

He turned his head around at the feminine voice, looking down at Uraraka gazing up at him. "What is it?"

"He's right though, you have been looking distracted."

He huffed. "I'm fine."

Sero stood up, rubbing at his head, and gave them a look, then walked away.

"You know if there's anything on your mind," she began, voice soft, palm moving up on his arm. "You can tell me."

Bakugo glanced up, just in time to see you walking into the kitchen with two others from your class by your side; the busty blonde from the night before and a boy he vaguely recognised. You walked to the counter, reaching up and grabbing a box of cereal from the overhead cupboards. When you got it and dropped it back on the counter, your eyes met his, then you looked at Uraraka's palm on his arm.

"I'm fine, really." He looked down at the brunette. "I'm going to my room." He shrugged her arm off him and stood up, making his way to the stairs.

"This should be 10 grams, right?" Bakugo mumbled, as he looked at the weed, laying atop some useless piece of paper he planned to use as wrapping.

Kirishima looked over his shoulder, rulers and pencils scattered on the desk beside the weed; Bakugo's attempt at 'measuring'. The redhead shrugged. "I think so. Looks like 10 grams to me."

Bakugo huffed and quickly began wrapping the paper over the weed. "Not like she'll weigh it or anything. This is about 10 grams." He mumbled as he took out a zip lock bag from a pile at the corner of his desk, opened it up and stuffed the paper-wrapped weed inside.

He stood from his desk.

"We're smoking some today, so don't waste too much time, yeah?" Kirishima said to him as Bakugi began approaching the door. "Or we'll do it without you."

"Just go ahead without me." Bakugo said.

Sero chuckled to himself. "You wanna fuck her or drop off weed?"

The blonde boy glared. "You wanna fuck her?" He retorted. "You've had a lot to say about my thoughts on her since yesterday."

Sero only raised his hands in mock surrender, leaning back on the headboard of his desk. "Just saying, bro. And what if I do?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "She is hot."

"Whatever. I don't fucking care," Bakugo scoffed rather harshly as he pulled open the door, slowly. It was late, everyone was meant to be sleeping, though the two teachers that chaperoned the outing didn't seem to care all that much if students heeded to the bedtime.

He crept slowly up the stairs at the end of the hallway, eyes looking round the walls, feet soft and silent, the bag of weed tightly in the pocket of his hoodie. Though Aizawa and the management course teacher didn't seem all that strict, or interested in what the students got into during their free time, he didn't want to take risks.

He made it to your door easy enough, knocked softly, once, then two more times after that. His stomach tightened as the door was pulled open, the loosened, relief coursing through him at the sight of you again.

You were dressed in a pale tank top this time, and silk sleeping shorts, much shorter than the one you'd worn the night before. Bakugo thought your thighs looked amazing.

"You got the weed?" You asked him. Your voice was steadier, a bit deeper, and your eyes didn't waver the way they'd done before.

He nodded slowly, inching it out of the pocket of his hoodie. You caught sight of it and pulled your door open just a bit wider, inviting him in.

Bakugo walked into the room you were occupying, not much different from his, his eyes scanning it as you shut the door and opened your palm to him, beckoning for the weed.

"Where are your roommates?" He asked as he handed it to you.

"Snuck out. One of our classmates has a villa nearby. He's hosting a party." You mumbled, setting the bag of weed on the dresser near the door and pulling open one of the drawers.

"You didn't go with them?" He was happy you didn't, happy that your friends had left and you'd remained, here, alone with him.

"I wasn't interested. Not in good terms with the host."

Some silence for a while.

"The fuck? You're weighing it?" Bakugo's eyes widened in shock as he quickly made his way over to your side, watching as you brought out a little scale from one of the drawers, dropping the zip lock bag unto it. "Why do you even have a scale?"

"Of course I'll measure it," you smirked, hands on your hips as you watched the scale. "And I have one cause I can."

You and Bakugo leaned closer to take a good look at the calibrations at the base of the scale. You squinted slightly, lips turned downwards as you counted the thin lines, matched them with the numbers above them.

"That's like 11.5." Bakugo frowned as he looked at it. "You gotta gimme one and a half grams." He stood back up and smirked at you.

You chuckled softly, opening up the zip lock and pulling out the wrap of weed. "Lemme roll it and we'll smoke some here, huh?" You offered.

"That's extra that came out of my stash." He argued, knowing full well he wanted to share a blunt with you.

You grinned, opening up your drawer again and pulling out some rolling paper. "That you're gonna smoke. With me."

"He sounds funny."

"He's a fucking dipshit."

You laughed, passing taking the blunt from Bakugo's fingers and bringing it to your lips. He watched you, having just finished narrating to you one of Sero's stupid, stupid ideas. Bakugo watched as you brought the blunt to your mouth, wrapping your lips around it, where his own lips just were, and then inhaling.

You'd convinced him to smoke the blunt with you, pulling him to sit on your bed, the one nearest to the wall, and expertly rolling a blunt with your pretty, dainty fingers.

He'd watched them, noticed your nails, pretty, well manicured.

Now he looked up at you with his lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide and head feeling light, as you blew smoke from your lungs. You were sat up, leaning back on your hand behind you, palm on the bed, legs crisscrossed on your sheets.

He sat at the edge of your bed, legs planted on the ground as his hands ran through his blonde hair.

You giggled softly, holding the blunt to him now. "Here." Your voice came out breathy and soft.

He kept his eyes on your own as he leaned into the blunt, wrapping his lips around the edge, where your own just was, and inhaling.

"This is an indirect kiss, you know." You whispered.

He kept looking at you as he pulled away, keeping still for a moment, holding in the smoke.

"Blow it out, will ya?" You said to him, but you were leaning into his face now, weren't you?

He leaned closer, hand reaching up to cup your jaw, his lips meeting yours halfway, eyes closing. You opened your mouth against his as he blew the smoke into it.

Then you were both pulling away and you were blowing out the smoke.

"I liked that." You said softly with a smile, head tilted cutely to the side, and you were biting your lower lip.

"The weed or the kiss?" He chuckled softly, his voice so raspy and deep.

"Both."

And then he was kissing you again, eyes fluttering shut as you grabbed your waist, pulling you so you sat sideways on his lap. His tongue licked at your lips, pushing into your mouth as his hands slipped under your tank and caressed the bare skin of your stomach.

You moaned softly into his mouth as your hands came up to brush through his hair.

"Bakugo," You muttered, pulling way and moving positions.

You were straddling his lap now, your dainty, well manicured fingers gripping on to the hem of his hoodie. "This the weed, right?"

He chuckled, his palms sliding along your hips, tips of his long fingers grazing your ass. "I wanted to fuck you when I saw you yesterday, and I wasn't high then."

You licked at your bottom lip, arms wrapping around his neck. "Really? You wanna fuck?" You whispered against his cheek.

"Fuck yeah. I want you."

And then you were kissing again, slow, with so much tongue and spit, and his hands were everywhere, ravishing you. He was palming at your breasts over your tanktop, groaning and moaning, then gripping at your hips, pushing your core against his boner.

You sighed, buring your face in the crook of his neck as his fingers slipped underneath the bottom of your shorts, feeling at the bare skin of your ass, squeezing and groping at the plump flesh.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo fluff

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shooting-love-arrows · 11 months

Note

Hi! Can I request more on the Yandere! Barabarian? I dont of anything specif besides that but, maybe about his and darlings' life now after marriage?

Hello to you too @misfortunateleprechaun,

Here it is! Hope to hear from you again and have a nice day (even if it's not a daytime)!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 and marriage headcanons

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) Tw. kidnapping, implied murder, blood, possessive tendencies, raids, marking, (at the end) horny yandere, grinding, mention of sex but nothing specific. A/N: There's a mention of a random name and celebration so don't fret that you don't know about something. Everything here is made up!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

When you are officially married to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, you not only become his lifelong partner and a soul connected to his own for all of eternity but you also become one of his people. This means everything related to your past should end up just like your village – turned to ashes. Forgotten and left behind. The only good things your parents did were creating you. The village? Don’t make him laugh! He never saw a more pathetic excuse of one before in his life. So stop wasting your tears on them and embrace your new family and him!

“Shh…my treasure…shhh…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 tried to console you. Even when you continue to trash in his hold, hit him in the chest repeatedly or scratch at him, he only brought you closer and tightened his hold on you. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t understand why you were acting like that, hysterically sobbing and pushing him away. Nor ever was he forced to comfort the person who was acting like that. “Why are you shedding tears for them? Shhh... Let’s celebrate Night Of Miracles (made up celebration) with your new husband and family, hm?”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 teaches you about his culture and language. In those quiet moments shared between you, sitting by fire, he tries his best to be a teacher (and he fails miserably). Although he’s a scholar by no means, he truly wants to make you feel like you belong. To make you understand that what he did and was doing was good. And he finds it amusing when he has to point things out to you like to a toddler. What he can’t teach you about, he requests for someone in his tribe to take his place (of course not without marking you beforehand just to be sure everyone will know who you belong to).

“...and that’s why Trinus I (made up character) brought his beloved the head of his first wife.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 finished the old tale and sighed in content. The story leaves you more traumatized than you already are. There were a few seconds of silence, before he smirked cheekily. “Now, let me tell you about their wedding night.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 marks you a lot and daily. Either by leaving big and deep hickeys in the most visible places or by braiding your hair in a similar way, making you wear his family crest/sigli, offering his clothes to wear and so on. One thing for certain, everyone must know (if they don’t already) that you’re his.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 could only admire you when you walked out of your shared tent, wearing his shirt, hair braided with similar braids to his and hickeys displayed on your neck. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t know whether to be more aroused or start trotting like a peacock.

Just like any good husband, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 brings you all sorts of gifts from his raids. It doesn’t matter if you want something or not. Either way, he’s going to bring all sorts of objects to choose from.

“W-what is it?” Your voice cracked after 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 pulled away from a searing ‘welcome back’ kiss. He was still covered in blood, sweaty, smelling like smoke and panting heavily. But what caught your attention was a big woolen bag thrown over his shoulder, material stretched to the max. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 only smirked and you watched, horrified, as he carelessly let the items from the bag spill on the floor. You saw clothes, silver dinnerware, money, jewelry (is that a finger with a ring still on?) and many other knick knacks. You gulped thickly. “For you!” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 proudly announced and puffed out his chest.

(NSFW-ish) A lot of sex. This man has high libido and – just like all barbarians – are led by their carnal desires. It’s guaranteed he’s going to bed you on a daily basis. It doesn’t matter where or when. If he wants to have sex with you, then he’s going to do so. It’s especially rough when he returns from raids or hunting trips, covered in sweat and oozing with adrenaline and need of you. Those are wild nights ~

“I need you…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 growled in your ear and aggressively nuzzled his nose in your neck. Since the moment his body touched yours, he started grinding into you. He just loved your scent. It was working on him like an aphrodisiac, turning him into an untamable beast ready to devour you. His chapped lips continue to aggressively leave a trail of wet kisses from your earlobe, down your neck and – after tearing open your loose shirt – your shoulder. “I fucking want you. Now.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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azrielwingspan · 7 months

Text

SOON (THEO NOTT X READER)

Summary : Theodore Nott was just another Slytherin asshole to most of Hogwarts. But to you, he was something much much more.

Themes : Mild kissing and swearing.

A/N : This is my first Theo fic AHHH. Just thought I would give it a shot. Let me know how it is!

P.S.- This is strictly a one shot. There will be no part 2.

"He is quite charming isn't he?" Ginny commented sneaking a glance at Theodore Nott. Seated at the Slytherin table between his usual rowdy gang of friends, he smirked at something Lorenzo had said.

"I think the word you're looking for is enigmatic, Gin. For all we know, he could be Voldemort in disguise." you stated flatly, stabbing a piece of potato on your plate. Earning a smack on the arm for using You-know-who's name so boldly, you ignored Ginny's attempts at convincing you to attend the party being thrown tonight.

"Help me understand why you're so bloody against the idea?! Is it because you have to bring a date?" she raised her eyebrows in question.

"That may be a part of the reason." you refused to meet her owl like stare, instead choosing to focus on the copy of the Daily Prophet in front of you.

"Why would that be an issue ? I can name five people off the top of my head who would say yes instantly." she prodded further, thankfully choosing to redirect her gaze towards the mail she'd received. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, you snuck a glance at Theodore again. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled upto his elbow and you greedily took in the sight of his veiny forearms.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny broke you out of the reverie, your eyes immediately flitting towards the shawl Pansy was wearing.

"Pansy's new shawl. I can't recall which store I've seen it in but it looks very familiar." The lie rolled out smoothly, misleading Ginny. The pang of guilt ,that never lessened in impact, hit you yet again.

"Oh. Yeah, it does look quite familiar now that you mention it." She went off on a tangent about clothes and you let out a relieved sigh.

Ginny couldn't know. Not for now atleast.

The morning went on, your focus elsewhere during most of the classes. Ginny hadn't brought up the party again but you knew it was unavoidable. You were definitely acting quite strange. Not being the one to turn down an invite, your sudden refusal to attend this massive party did come as a surprise to your friends.

You had your reasons. Utterly selfish reasons.

However as the evening rolled by, Ginny had cornered you into agreeing. On bringing up the issue of the date, she'd simply shrugged and said "I took care of it."

That did not sound very reassuring.

It was worse than you had expected.

"CORMAC MC FUCKIN LAGGEN ?!?" you hissed at Ginny , your back to the boy in question.

Ginny looked away sheepishly and said "He told Hermione who told me that he had a thing for you. So I thought you guys could talk? I mean you don't have to really. Just drop him off in a corner."

"Drop him---" pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you whipped around to face Laggen and gave him a saccharine smile.

"Nice to meet you Laggen but I'm not interested."

He looked astounded, trying to wrap his head around the rejection. After a few seconds, he managed to sputter out "We haven't talked yet. How can you--"

"Yes. Yes I can. You have my permission to tell everyone I'm your date but please don't approach me again. Bye." you sauntered off into the party, Ginny keeping up behind you.

"Where's Harry anyways?" you asked, straining your neck to see past the crowd.

"Running late. Neville set his pants on fire so Ron and Harry are helping him out."

Shaking your head in amusement, you let your eyes run around the room searching for him.

There.

Theo sat on the couch near the fireplace, one arm thrown around the back , a glass of amber liquid in the other. The smoke from Mattheo's cigarette made his figure hazy.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink." Ginny said her voice floating by. You nodded distractedly , your attention held captive by Theo.

As if sending your presence behind him , he turned his head around and met your eyes. Slight confusion marred his face making his eyebrows furrow. He hadn’t expected you to be here.

Signalling to you with a quick nod of his head, he excused himself from his group of friends and made his way to his dorms. You stayed down for a couple more minutes , getting yourself a drink to throw off suspicion.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d come tonight. Ginny change your mind?” Pansy popped out of the blue , startling you.

“Uh.. Pansy, hey. Yeah you know how Gin is.” Pansy was a bit of a talker. Aware that this conversation could go on forever , you tried to come up with an excuse. “Hey listen, I’ve got to use the bathroom real quick. I’ll find you again alright?”

Not waiting for a response , you made your way in the direction of the bathrooms and took a sharp turn in the opposite direction once you made sure Pansy had redirected her attention. Sneaking up the stairway to the boys dorm, you took a moment for yourself outside Theo’s dorm room, straightening out your clothes.

“Took you long enough.” His voice drawled as you entered his room, the familiar surroundings providing a sense of comfort.

“Pansy almost started a conversation.” You said laughing lightly at his wide eyed expression.

“Didn’t take you long then.” He corrected his previous statement , prowling towards you.

“No. I guess it didn’t.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into a searing kiss that had you holding onto his shirt for balance. The words 'I missed you' played at the tip of your tongue struggling to be let out.

He nipped at your lower lip , a breathy sigh leaving you as you tangled your hands in his hair.

"Cormac Mc fuckin Laggen? Seriously?" Theo muttered , lowering his head to place soft kisses across your jaw. Leaning your head back to give him more access, you let out a soft laugh. "That's exactly what I said. Ginny is the real culprit."

A strangled moan left your lips as he sucked at your neck, immediately soothing it with a sloppy kiss. "T-Theo..you idiot. That's gonna leave a mark." He just hummed in response seemingly lost in the pleasure. Tugging his head back, you made him meet your gaze head on.

"If we stay up here for any longer, they'll suspect." A shiver passed through you as his hands trailed lower and cupped you arse, pulling your hips to his. "Let them." he said dropping his head to capture your lips once more.

"THEO, YOU IN THERE ??" Blaise Zabini's voice boomed through the door making you jump. A string of Italian curses left Theo's mouth as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah give me a minute!"

Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned down to your face placing you at eye level. "It'll all be over soon alright? We won't have to hide anymore. We can be free." The promise in his eyes lit a spark of hope within you, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Soon." you whispered , your eyes fluttering shut as you placed a kiss on his Dark Mark.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x fem!reader #theo nott x fem!reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #fanfic #fanfiction

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 4 months

Text

House Husbands ft SatoSugu

househubby!Sato is overjoyed with his decision to shift his focus solely on taking care his overworked little wife. He feels worthless in his own line of work because regardless of his efforts, nothing ever changes. Being at your beck and call, making you happy.. It's all Satoru needs outta life and he's never felt more fulfilled.

househubby!Sugu is absolutely exhausted dealing with the internal war rampaging his thoughts, distorting his morality into a demon he can't recognize. But the unyielding love and support of his nonsorcerer wife is enough to suffocate his uncertainty. And Suguru's proud that with your help, he's able to shed all the toxic doubt and decides to dedicate his life to the woman that saved him.

househubbies!SatoSugu refuse to acknowledge the absolutely ridiculous qualms that they're putting their wants and needs on the back burner to take care of you. They constantly remind you that you're everything they'll ever desire in life; that they could only continue to witness curses bring the world to its knees long as they could always be there to keep you safe.

househubby!Sato is on pins and needles waiting for you to come home every single day. Bouncing on the tips of his toes like an anxious child, tense as fuck while pacing like a madman. "Relax, Toru. She gets in the same time every evening. Rilin yourself up for no reason." Suguru chuckles from the stove, finishing up dinner. "But she's been gone for hours and I miss heeer." Satoru whines like a brat, wholeheartedly feeling like his partners calm demeanor was nothing more than pure utter cap. "Quit actin like you don't want her home too. Listened to you fuckin your fist to that video of her in the bathroom earlier." Electric blue eyes narrowed, slender finger pointed accusingly in a sputtering Suguru's direction. "Will you just finish settin the damn table before y/n gets home!" He hisses back, shame licking warmth across his cheeks. "Fuckin creep Toru, I swear.."

househubby!Sugu consistently rescues you from a needy Satoru's overbearing 'welcome home' after each grueling work shift. Heroically puts himself in-between the world's strongest sorcerer and woman of their shared affections; effectively untangling you from the bone crushing embrace and ambush of kisses. "Seriously gonna smother her one of these days, idiot. Actin like she's gonna disappear or somethin." Suguru chastised, scooping you up in his own snug embrace and pecking your lips in adoration. Only a second in the kiss turns way too passionate for Satorus liking and he immediately despises the soft mouth moving slowly against your own, so damn sensually. "Lies! You just want y/n all to yourself." Satoru pouts listening to your tiny hums of pleasure as he stomps off to pour his tired little wife a glass of wine.

househubbies!SatoSugu make it a daily routine to lay you out after work and massage the accumulated tension outta every inch of your depleted frame while askin bout your day; coppin a feel as they simultaneously knead your stressed ridden muscles till you lay limp and aroused on the bed. "Fuuuck, y/nnn. Look so good spread out like this for us. Wanna continue to make our girl feel good.. Gonna let us play in that pussy for a lil bit?" Satoru speaks low at your ear, leaving sweet kisses down your neck and your shoulders when you nod. "Lemme and Sugu relax our perfect lil wife even more. Know you want this pipe, baby. Let us make you cum, deserve that and so much more. Can we, princess, hm? Work so goddamn hard every. fuckin. day." Print of his mouth leaving goosebumps over your sensitive skin while grippin on your love handles, lips trailing lower and lower as Suguru takes his place at your ear. "'S all up to you, babygirl. Tables set; blunts rolled.. Can go smoke and eat, maybe come lay back down after.. Rub ya pretty feet till you pass out inste-," "mmmfuuuck, Toru.. Oh! Yeees, right there.. Oh, oh- tongues so deep, Daddy." You interrupt, breathless moans loud and airy as Satoru spreads your doughy chocolate cheeks and digs inside you further. Pulling back to lap at your slick like a kitten does milk. Suguru chuckles when you shamelessly groan your pleasure all up in his face. "Play in that pussy it is then, babygirl."

househubby!Sato slipped into domestic bliss quite effortlessly. He's proud to admit his biggest worry these days is how mad Suguru gets when he forgets to separate the whites from the colors. "Dammit Gojo!" Satoru flinches from the spot between your legs, head snapping away from his video game to the rapid footsteps barging his direction from the bedroom. You continue to card your fingers through his soft hair, chuckling when a furious Suguru appears clad only inna pair of tight white briefs splotched with pink, holding a pair of your panties. "How many fuckin times have I told you not to mix colors with whites?! I gotta whole basket full of pink boxers cause you never pay attention to what the fuck your doin!" But Satoru only gives him the saddest puppy dog eyes he can muster while trying to ignore his Fallout character getting absolutely slaughtered by a Deathclaw. "I'm sorry! Just wanted to help with the chores. You know it wasn't on purpose, Big Daddy." His taunting and dramatic fluttering lashes have you both clutching your tummies in serious efforts to hold in your guts from the raucous laughter. But Suguru is less than impressed. He seethes in silence for a few moments before growling out through clenched teeth. "Both of you shut the fuck up.. Know what? Get over here and hurry up. Now.. On your fuckin knees." It was interesting start to your day off to say the least..

househubby!Sugu! likes to the play the role and has no problem keeping his brats in place. He's good at being the perfect Daddy with only one demand: utter compliance. And he doesn't tolerate disobedience. "I know that- ah ah ah. Slow, baby. Slow.. All the way down. Mmmmm.. Jus like that." Suguru tightens his grip on the soft locks, using them as leverage to control the pace of him dipping his cock in and out of his lovers throat. "I know it's confusing baby, sooo confusing to my girl hmm? He's your Daddy too. Aint that right? Oooh shit, suck it harder.. Mmm, ohhh yeaah- oh fuuuck!" Suguru huffs hoarsely, head fallin back in pleasure before he looks down and stares into your eyes heatedly, your gaze making his nut creep closer. "But I'm his Daddy, sweetheart. And it's time I- fuuuuck, 'm close! T-time to teach you both a lesson. Ready Toru?" Suguru slides a hand into your kinky y/h/c hair, yanking you closer to his hips and buss heavily into Satoru's waiting mouth. "Mmmmph!" Your poor husband struggles and chokes around the first gush, gagging harshly when Suguru slides his dick in deeper. "So bad at t-takin dick, Toru." He teases, wide tip knockin into glaring Satoru's abused throat; spurting twice more and flooding it with thick pearly cream. "Fuckin hell, Toruuuu! Oh God, Saaatoruuu!" Suguru moans filthily, snatching his cock and aiming at your pretty face. "Ah, ah- mmmnnh! Take it, take the rest of Daddy's nut, mama." Suguru's cum blankets your cheeks and lips in three milky streams. "G-good boy.. Ohhhh, my good giiirl, y/n." He praises when you and Satoru gently suck and lick at the oozing head of his throbbing cock, prolonging the intense pleasure.

househubbies!SatoSugu! try not to ravish you too often because of your hectic schedule but there's nothing to save you from their fiendish antics when you take your mini vacations. Time off with your husbands is nothing short of more work for you. At the very least, it's a very thorough and strenuous workout. They very consistently keep you stuffed: with happiness, love, and of course dick. "Toru- ah f-fuck.. Don't do this to me, Daddy pleeease!" You cry for your husband to give your puffy overused coochie reprieve but he's consistent with his denial. "Shhh, princess, shhhh. You're okay, you can take it. Gotta be quiet though. Me and Sugu both worked so damn hard to fuck this pretty chocolate lil pussy so good.. Don't wanna wake him up after all his hard work do you, baby?" He sucks and nibbles on your folds incessantly, grinning when the pressure of his thumb at your overstimulated clit makes you shriek and gasp for air. "Bullshit, Toru. Got her screamin her fuckin head off." Suguru exhales tiredly with closed eyes, scooping your trembling body closer into his side as you writhe from the intense sensation swirling between your legs; head thrashing from side to side on his broad chest. "Daddy, please! A-already came three t-times tonight. Ahhhnm, oh oh- needa a break, pleeease!" Your increasingly desperate cries raising in volume have Suguru's half hard dick filling full as he peeks down between your thick brown thighs, making direct eye contact with a sadistic Satoru. Who ofcourse gives a naughty wink, mouthing 'watch this' to an intrigued Suguru and latches on to your throbbing nub to nurse on you hungrily; pulling off repeatedly with acute bursts of suction that have you wordlessly keening as you squirt impressively allover Satoru's swollen pink lips inna messy glaze. You cum so fuckin hard, hands shooting to anchor themselves in Suguru's dark roots; plushy frame jerking erratically in attempt to twist away from the suffocating pleasure. "Fuuuck, Look at that.. Got her raining cum all over your pretty face, Toru. Gotta be the hardest our lil wife's eva came." Suguru admits, putting his ego aside. Too preoccupied with wetting up Satoru's face to notice how your husbands stare into each other's eyes, dicks pulsing and raging between their legs.

househubby!Sato despises Suguru's all work no play attitude. After an entire week of repetitive chores and errands in addition to no sex, Satoru's dying to get home so one of his spouses can drain his fat sack dry. "..need a warm tight hole to slide into. Been so fuckin pent up.. Babygirl is gone entirely way too much lately." He complains as Suguru drives them back to the house. "Well you know y/n's been workin hard as hell towards that big promotion, Toru. Left for work at like 5 this morning.. She'll probably need some rest and jus wanna cuddle after work." Suguru reminds him. Satoru manspreads with a huff, head slamming back into the headrest and groans in agreement. Well if not y/n then.. "What bout you? Been a minute since my handsome husband had a good nut. Don't you.. Need some relief?" Satoru asks, voice low and deep. Fingers slinking into his husbands hair scratching at his scalp lightly, his other hand caressing up and down his muscled thigh. Suguru gulps audibly, adam apple bobbing as he concentrates with all his might to keep his eyes on the road. "Uhhh.." Satoru's clear invitation instantly has him rock hard and remembering that last time he had the strongest man in the world on his back while you were at work. Filth spewing from his mouth that eventually went quiet and slack when Suguru held down his wrists and grinded in deep as fuck over and over. Damn, the slutty way Satoru kept rolling his narrow hips.. Effectively fuckin himself on Suguru's dick with the prettiest flush on his chest, strands of snowy locks plastered to his damp creased forehead, stiff untouched cock twitching and smearing precum between them. "Sugu? Still with me?" Satoru asks, cheeky smirk alluding to knowing exactly what's on his husbands mind. Suguru clears his throat and nods, mouth dry and parched; immediately in dire need of a drink of the tall glass of water sitting next to him. "Well? You gonna fuck me before y/n gets home or nah?" Another curt nod from Suguru has Satoru grinning like he just one the lottery, greedily groping his spouses bulge the rest of the ride home.

househubby!Sugu feels like he can only indulge his husbands despicable fantasies when all duties have either been prepped or taken care of. Therefore he feels absolutely guiltless when he's halfway to heaven and his cell rings, your parents number popping up on the screen. Satoru stares at Suguru in disbelief as he pulls away and gets outta bed. Mouth running a mile per minute to your dad while he hops around the room trying to get his leg into his pants. ".. Alright, bet.. Love you too pops.. Bye." He ends the call and turns to a disheveled frowning Satoru, reaching up to swoop his long hair up inna bun. "The fuck, Suguru-," Satoru starts but his protests are swiftly dismissed. "Don't start. They just need one small lil favor. Plus, Moms said she missed you cause you didn't come by with us last time y/n and I visited." Satoru sighs in acknowledgement and quickly chucks on his clothes, features softening considerably. "I do miss Mama y/l/n. Wanted to run a few things by her for y/n's birthday surprise anyway." He shrugs, slipping into his black nike slides. "Alright, sounds like a plan- oh! She said to tell you she's got your favorite mochi wai- Gojo, WHAT THE FUCK!" Suguru sentence abruptly cutting off, consumed in horror that Satoru just teleported them into your parents kitchen clad only in a pair of black jeans. "Christ almighty!" Your mom jumps at their sudden appearance and Suguru's exclamation, holding her pounding heart and sternly eyeing your husbands up and down. "Sup Mom, where is it?" Satoru gets straight to the point, kissing your mom's cheek and skipping off to the garage freezer when she points. "Hell is wrong with that boy?" Your mom asks the sanest of the two, already heading to grab Suguru a shirt and some socks. "So many things, Ma. How much time you got?"

househubbies!SatoSugu are both pleasantly surprised when you pull up to your parents spot after work and tell them there's something that's been on your mind for the past few weeks. "Spill the beans, princess. Can't believe you waited this long to tell us." Satoru gives his signature pout as he pulls you down to sit on the couch in-between them. "Yeah, sweetheart. You know we don't keep secrets. Tell us what's been on your mind." So you take a deep breath before you launch into your mini speech. "I love you both so much, never ever dreamed I'd be lucky enough to marry my soul mates. And I know we've talked about kids but my job has always made that impossible but today I got the promotion." Your husbands are ready to click their heels in excitement at your news but you hush sweet words with a finger to their lips. "But that's not all. I- uh. I make my own schedule now and haveso much more time on my hands that I think- um.." You stall a bit, nervous as fuck. "Y/n spit out already. Got us on the edges of our seat here." Satoru groans at your reluctance. "Honey, what's goin on?" Suguru questions with concern. "I stopped taking birth control so we can have a baby!" Your hands pop over your mouth at the outburst but your men already have that look in their eye and quickly close in on your tense frame. "That's all? So anxious just to tell us you wanna get bred tonight?" Satoru teases, gripping your hips and kissing your cheek. "That right, sweet wife?" Suguru sneers, loving how your breath speeds as they feel you up. "You want us both to put a baby in that needy lil pussy tonight?" You're only able to nod and moan as Satoru takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth and grope your tit roughly. Suguru watches with a sly smile as your other husbands assault evolves into finger fuckin you while inhaling your soft pretty cries. "Time to say bye bye, princess. Your Daddies need time alone with our perfect lil wife now." Suguru finally says after watching for a couple minutes, pulling you from a distraught Satoru and ushering you towards your parents. "And we're leaving your car. Tell em I'll pick it up tomorrow." Satoru demands as he sucks your slick from his fingers. You do as they say like always. And since you so sweetly asked for a baby, your generous husbands happily give you two tonight.

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