#i wanted to put it on the tags but i word vomitted too much for it to fit...

[avatarchic]

TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white. 

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes. 

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him. 

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret. 

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you. 

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is. 

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child.  “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory. 

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements. 

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss. 

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently. 

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f’me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.” 

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern. 

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. 

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum. 

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest. 

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.” 

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you. 

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You���re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you. 

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[goddessofconquest]

im rambling pls ignore fhdkdhdkd

what got me feeling insane about this scene was that the Like Dove was introduced as an anomaly that indicated there were budding romantic feelings involved or a if just a simple connection of some sort has developed regardless of its nature (ex. kaito in ep 1, sho in ep 2, and towa in ep 3).

upon its appearance, taiga was clearly out of it, as if he didn't like what he was seeing yet he was resisting the urge to consume the dove. it got him so agitated he just shouted for romeo to just shoot it outta his sight. whereas prior to this scene, his crazy ass didn't hesitate to kidnap poor ol little peekaboo just to satisfy a hunger pang lmao

i know there's a bunch of different ways to interpret this scene but i think the tension was just so palpable when taiga finally got the MC cornered in his room that it was hard not to go crazy thinking about his conflicting feelings towards the MC. he isn't sure if he can trust her, yet he constantly tries to implore answers from her like she could possibly help him. he does this in ep 4 and if you chose to save taiga during the prologue, he does his usual crazy laugh but then comes to ask the MC solemnly "tell me something, would you? what could i have done different to change this outcome?". there must be something about the MC (apart from the fact she's the token protag of the game lol) that makes him think she can provide the answers, or at the very least, the words he needs but i digress

should that not be the case, the fact that he would offer her a way out of whatever mystery shtstorm is going on in darkwick is still equally interesting to me. he clearly wasn't toying with her when he said there was a traitor in their midst and the sooner she finds that out the more prepared she'll be for what's to come.

i felt like him shooting the like dove in torture chamber for the MC to see was rly symbolic of him basically just accepting he can no longer give a fck and this messed up sht is what the MC will continue to be forced into. he shot the bird dead and consumed it like he probably did other anomalies leaving him in a sour mood in the end.

aaaahh im srsly rambling at this point skdhdkd i have way too much to say but i think pls ignore me i just got into tokyo debunker and finished ep 4 a few days ago so this post just activated my brain again

Interesting interesting... I was not expecting it to show up so early. And is it just me or does Taiga seem extremely stressed out and afraid of the Like Dove's appearance σ(￣、￣=)

[theother-victoria]

Mr reca word vomit bc the brain worms won’t leave my brain!!! I promise I’m Very Sane abt this man

TAGS: not proofread, written before his release so potentially ooc and I’m too lazy to rewrite it post-release, secret relationship trope, reader wears lipstick, making out eheheheheh, reader is smaller/shorter than him, this is my propaganda and sign for u to become a reca kisser too

TAGLIST: @akutasoda, @https-sourlimes, @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii (putting you on the reca kisser agenda >:3), @harque, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @moineauz

Ok so imagine being in a secret relationship with the man himself…

Like the two of you HATE each other’s guts in public. As a rival film producer, the public loves to pit your films against each other, and the two of you as well apparently. There have been so many instances of you making small digs and sly remarks toward each other during interviews that it’s become somewhat expected by now. You have a gripe with the pacing of his films and his fame. He has a bone to pick with your cinematography.

“That manic director’s most recent film? I would give my thoughts, but unfortunately I fell asleep not even halfway through.”

“That uninspired, dreadfully dull and artistically lacking director? All their films look the same. I couldn’t differentiate them even if I wanted to.”

No matter how critically acclaimed your work is, he always has something to say about it.

Even if it was in the back of an alley with his hands gripping your hips tightly and teeth nipping at your neck.

"It took until a quarter of the way through the movie before- hah- your cinematography finally showed some signs of thought put into the shots. I know you can do better than this. So why- mmph- did it take you so long?"

You angrily nip on his bottom lip. A flash of satisfaction runs through you when you hear him hiss and taste blood on the tip of your tongue.

“Like you’re one to talk with the horrendous pacing of your newest film! Tell me, what was the plot of it again? Because I- mmm!?- already forgot the direction it was supposed to be taking twenty minutes in!”

"Well, you just simply lack reading comprehension. Not my fault, of course.”

“Oh, you little piece of-!”

He shuts you up with a rough and messy kiss. Your legs immediately go jelly and were it not for his leg slotted between yours and pushing you up against the wall, you think you would’ve collapsed right there and then.

When he pulls away, your lips are glossy and swollen. There’s a dazed look in your eyes that makes him smirk in satisfaction and without any hesitation, he pulls out his camera to take a few shots.

“Yes, yes, wonderful! That expression really suits you!”

Anger looks good on you, but he much rather prefers this expression.

He leans in for another kiss and because you can’t say no to him, you indulge him- until you hear footsteps nearby. You hurriedly clamp your hand over his mouth and wait until they’re gone before glaring at him.

“Stop running your mouth so much in public! You’ll give us away at this point!”

“Then stop being so loud,” he hisses back, though he’s in no better state than you, his-already-disheveled hair an absolute mess now from you gripping it. His flushed face is littered with lipstick marks and you can’t resist the temptation to add a few more.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” he huffs out as you place a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. A soft kiss to his eyelid makes his eyes flutter shut and an affectionate sigh escape him. He smells of the chemicals used to develop film and strong coffee…

Then there’s a gasp and the undeniable sound of a camera shutter going off. Caught red handed.

You pull apart from him with a surprised gasp and expression. Strangely, he doesn’t look fazed at all. Still as smug as ever.

You whirl around to see an equally-shocked photographer standing there. Paparazzi, from the looks of it. He was probably going around and looking for some potential shots before accidentally stumbling upon something that would make front-page headlines. When you look back at him, then at the photographer, there’s even more people now snapping away at the two of you in a compromising position.

With the damage already done, you try to leave before he stops you. His jacket resting on your shoulders dwarfs your smaller frame and he yanks on the film strip belt to reel you back in. The crowd of photographers has doubled now, murmuring excitedly to themselves.

“Wh- let go! The paparazzi are having a field day-!”

He silences you with a swift kiss and a pinch to the inner thigh. The cameras flash even more rapidly now.

“Let them see for all I care.”

enjoyed this? my taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[gothcsz]

imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist

a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤

You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.

Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.

You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”

Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.

You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.

You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.

You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.

She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.

It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.

It’s Javier.

You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.

He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”

He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.

You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”

Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself. 

“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”

He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”

Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.

“It’s fine, really—“

“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”

His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.

“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.

You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.

Living next door to him is going to be torture.

Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.

You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.

You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work. 

It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.

He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.

It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.

Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.

But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all. 

His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.

In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.

And then there are the women.

You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.

Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.

It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend. 

You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.

It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.

You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.

He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.

You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.

You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring. 

And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.

You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.

Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”

“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”

It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.

That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.

He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.

“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”

You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.

But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.

“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.

The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.

The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.

Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”

You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.

He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money. 

Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.

“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.

You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.

But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”

Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”

His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.

“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”

The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.

“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.

You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.

When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.

“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.

You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.

Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour. 

You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.

“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him,  gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”

You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”

The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.

Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.

He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.

“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”

There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.

Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.

“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”

Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”

You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming. 

“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.

The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.

You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.

“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”

And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.

“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.

Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.

“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.

You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head. 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”

He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.

He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.

Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you. 

His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”

Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.

His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.

You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.

His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.

When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .

[jq37]

Aelwyn is sixteen and preparing for midterms at Hudol. Uniform pressed and starched, head full of incantations and spell components. She doesn't mean to bump into Adaine and get orange juice all over her shirt but today isn't the day she's going to start showing weakness.

"You know, you really should watch we're you're going," she says archly, playing off the clumsy mistake as a purposeful jab.

Playing it off a bit too well because, the next thing she knows, Adaine is flipping her off and a bolt of queasy looking, green energy is coming towards her. Ray of Sickness. And she can't spare the spell slot for Counterspell because she needs it for her exams.

"You little bitch!" Aelwyn says once she's emptied the contents of her stomach down the front of her shirt.

"Good luck with your exams," Adaine says sweetly.

Aelwyn is eighteen and the oldest, mangiest cat she's ever seen in her life has just vomited on her shoes.

"My," she says, casting a shield spell around her ankles to stop the cat from clawing at them. "You weren't kidding. He is a little bastard, isn't he?"

The shelter volunteer looks mortified. "Oh, gods! I am so sorry. I tried to warn you--I mean, not that I'm blaming you but--"

"No, it's alright. I did ask you to show me stragglers."

The shelter worker gestures to another pen on the other side of the room. "I can show you the kittens we just got in or there are some very well behaved older cats as well if you'd--"

But Aelwyn cuts her off, scooping up the old cat--though she holds him at arm's length for now, just to be safe. "No need. I haven't changed my mind. I'll take this one." She looks at the tag on his collar. "Hector."

Aelwyn is three and, as of a month ago, no longer the youngest Abernant.

She's had baby dolls in the past but never a baby sister and this is exciting new territory. She's full of questions. When is she going to be able to walk? When is she going to be able to talk? When will she be old enough to have lembas bread instead of formula?

Her parents seem less fascinated by the new addition to the family than she is but her mother is amused when she slaps away the hand of a colleague of her father's who tried to touch Adaine before sanitizing his hands, standing between the much larger man and her sister.

"So defensive. Perhaps she'll be an abjurer."

When Aelwyn asks what that is, her mother says that it's a kind of magical protector and she likes that a lot. That sounds like a good thing to be.

At night, Adaine cries. Except, she doesn't hear it because the mobile above her crib is etched with runes that cast the Silence spell.

"But what if she gets hurt?" Aelwyn asks.

Her father brushes her off. That's what the Unseen Servants are for. But she thinks that's what an abjurer might be for too and even though she isn't one yet, that doesn't mean she can't start practicing.

So, every night, Aelwyn waits until her parents have put Adaine down for bed and then tiptoes into her room. She checks to see if Adaine is silently wailing and if she is (and even sometimes if she isn't) she presses her face between the bars of the crib and sticks her little hand over Adaine's face.

"Don't cry," she says, even though the Silence spell mutes her words as completely as the tears. "Mum said I'm an abjurer. Nothing will get you. Don't cry, baby."

Adaine grabs her hand with impressive grip strength for something so small and, within a few minutes, she's trancing peacefully.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her sister is off to save the world again. This time from a Night Yorb--whatever that is.

It feels cruel that Adaine should have to go risk her life again so soon after she just almost died--not almost died, she did die before being raised by her cleric.

She wants to come with, to help in some way. Surely she could be helpful--last quest they brought Gilear for Helio's sake!

But Adaine doesn't ask her and she can't bring herself to say the words she needs to have the conversation she wants. So, instead, she lightly whaps Adaine on the shoulder with her spellbook as she's packing for the quest.

"I know you haven't done much studying lately what with your grades being based on how many hobgoblins you kill or whatever ridiculous system Aguefort has cooked up," Adaine rolls her eyes at that, "But if you don't mind a little cram session before you leave tomorrow, I can show you how to cast Teleport like I said. Might help you stay a touch less dead on your quest."

Her tone is light but her eyes betray her: Please, please, please don't die again.

Adaine's expression softens but then she scoffs, playing her half of their game. "I don't know what a Hudol dropout who's been in jail for the past year is gonna teach me but do your best."

Aelwyn is seven and her father is cross with her.

"Really Aelwyn," he says and even though they're talking via crystal she can feel the frost of his glare. "You thought it was appropriate to call me at work for no good reason? How many times have I told you and your sister to not bother me while I'm working."

She hates the word bother. She doesn't want to be a bother. She tries very hard not to be. Maybe she just didn't explain herself well enough.

"I know, father. But Addy got really scared and panicky on the playground. She was breathing really hard and--"

Her father makes a noise of disgust. "I don't have time for this. She is in primary school now. Stop coddling her. And her name is Adaine, not Addy. Please speak properly. I'm raising you better than that."

He hangs up before she can say anything else.

Aelwyn is eighteen and most of the claw marks on her arms have healed, which is nice. On her lap asleep is Hector who has apparently decided he likes her enough to use her as a radiator but not enough to submit to medical treatment without using her arms as a scratching post.

"You little heat vampire," she says as she slides her thumb across the screen of her crystal, searching for a video that will help her out. Eventually she finds one that looks promising and she calls it up.

On the screen, a halfling is standing next to a cat who is actively shredding her sweater with its claws. "You're going to be tempted to use some kind of a shield spell when applying the ointment," says the halfling. "But cats can smell abjuration magic and they don't love it. You won't get close enough to do the job. Isn't that right my darling?"

In response, her cat hacks up a hairball.

"Darling indeed," she says under her breath.

But even laced with sarcasm, the word is sweeter against her tongue than she anticipated.

She sinks her hand into Hector's fur and scratches his back for a few moments before tentatively speaking aloud. "Sleeping well, my darling?"

Hector says nothing--he's asleep and a cat. But warmth blooms in Aelwyn's chest--more than enough to make up for what Hector is leeching from her.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her father has just given her the most horrible command she's ever received in her life--and she's counting being made to sink a ship full of people in that calculation.

She knows her father doesn't expect her to delicately extricate the knowledge he needs from Adaine's mind. He expects her to get it at all costs. To ransack and pillage the memories if necessary with no heed of the consequences on her psyche. He'd probably prefer it that way--the more broken Adaine is, the easier it will be to mold her into a version of herself that is more useful to him.

Aelwyn is usually a smooth talker and a convincing liar but now, she stumbles all over her words, babbling out a stream of deflections and pleas as her heart squeezes tighter and tighter in her chest until she can't hold back the truth that she's been suppressing for years anymore.

"Adaine's just…she's a baby."

Aelwyn is eighteen and her apartment is full of cats.

She's always thought that the phrase, "One thing led to another" was a bit of a cop out--clearly there were key steps between point A and point B being glossed over--but in this case, there is truly no better way for her to articulate how she went from zero cats to ten cats in such a short amount of time.

She's sure that if she was still living with Jawbone, he'd have something to say about it but that's exactly why she isn't currently living with Jawbone.

She portions out food for all of the cats, saving Hector for last because he likes to eat curled up next to her.

"My darling baby boy," she says, lifting him onto the couch with her because the jump up is a bit much for him and his old bones. She kisses him on the top of the head and then pulls out her crystal. She scrolls mindlessly for a bit before checking her messages despite the fact that there's conspicuously no notifications.

Not that she has many people to expect texts from but she hasn't heard from Adaine in a few weeks and it's unsettling. When they weren't getting along, they were still living under the same roof. She was able to keep tabs on her, more or less. Now, they're closer than they've been in ages but barely talking.

I'm the older sister, I suppose, Aelwyn thinks. I should take the initiative.

She pets Hector with one hand and drafts a message with another: Are you alive, bitch?

She's about to press send but then she frowns and deletes the draft. After a few moments of thought, she taps out a new message: Can't believe I'm gonna say this. Miss my little sister. Everything all right?

Aelwyn is seventeen--though she doesn't feel like it.

Her mind is telling her that she's sixteen and that she was just been broken out of a jail cell in Solace but Adaine is telling her that she's just been broken out of an entirely different prison after being tortured for months even though she doesn't remember any of that.

But her body feels frail and Adaine says she's been in her mind which means she must have used the hard reset.

She's suddenly feeling very vulnerable--not because of the disorientation or the of the levels of exhaustion she can feel weighing on her like leaden chains. No, it's because of the fact that Adaine using the reset means that she must have read the treacle-y note that she left there for her to find.

It was just an insurance policy, she tells herself. There was wisdom to buttering up your savior to make sure she'd do what you needed her to do.

She manages to mostly believe it. But the small, truthful part of herself that knows how deeply she meant the words is so uncomfortable that she antagonizes Adaine until she's annoyed enough to hit her with a spell, sending her into blissful unconsciousness.

Aelwyn is nineteen and she's going to kill her mother.

Well, not alone of course. Adaine deserves the kill at least as much as she does if not more. It'll be a group effort.

It's a strange mix--the cold fury at her mother mixed with the warmth she feels for her sister, sitting across the table from her. She summons a flame to her palm, a preview of what their mother has waiting for her. She watches Adaine's eyes harden with resolve and she sees the face of her baby sister, left to wail alone silently for hours, soothed by her presence. "Let's get her."

"Yes, my dear," she says, the endearment coming freely as if this has always been their dynamic. "We'll get her."

But there will be time for that later. Right now, it's time for ice cream and seeing Adaine so content in such a simple pleasure causes the warmth in her to surge so suddenly that it would be startling if it wasn't so pleasant. The urge to voice it is so powerful that she doesn't know that would have been able to stop it at any point in life, let alone now.

"I hope we get to eat ice cream and cast magic forever," she says, words that would have been impossible for her to say one short year ago and impossible not to say now.

And, to her delight, Adaine agrees.

[dearjaeyuns]

jealousy — [ 엔하이픈 제이크 ] genre ⋆ smut

“i thought we were supposed to stay a little longer.” your words came out slurred, your boyfriend jake tugging you behind him by the wrist and to the car.

he was furious and you had way too much to drink to realize why. what you did know was seeing him so frustrated turned you on beyond belief.

tonight was meant to be fun. jake always loved going out and drinking with the boys. he figured inviting you to tag along would be a good idea, but boy was he wrong.

all it took was for him to catch heeseung checking out your ass while you bent over the pool table with his lip caught between his teeth for him to drag you out the bar. you wore your favorite pleated skirt, innocently unaware that it was a bit too short and, when bending over, you could see a small peek of your laced panties underneath.

jake noticed of course. he always did. that skirt was his favorite and you knew it too. it was the whole reason you had put it on in the first place. for him.

with his jaw tightly clenched and eyebrows furrowed, he opened the car’s passenger door for you. even when he was pissed off, he was still such a gentleman. your buzzed mind couldn’t help but swarm with the filthiest thoughts while he got into the vehicle.

“you’re so sexy when you’re mad.” the words came up like vomit, jake’s eyes turning to you while he put the key in the ignition, “you know you belong to me, right?” his words came out through clenched teeth, breaking the silence that filled the car.

his fingers were clutching the wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white. you couldn’t help but think of how pretty his hand would look around your throat, squeezing it just as hard.

you nodded sheepishly and reached your hand over to run your fingers through his dark hair to reassure him, “i’m yours, jake.” his shoulders immediately relaxed, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing as well. you loved seeing the effect that you had on him.

little did he know that he had a very lasting effect on you. your cute panties were now soaked in your own arousal. jake reached over to stroke your thigh. it was an innocent gesture from him. yet your cunt pulsed and hips shifted, the warmness of his hand making you feel unbearably hot.

“i can’t stand seeing other guys look at you, _____. it drives me insane.” jake’s nails dug into you, squeezing your plush skin. “i know, baby.” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you. really touch you.

he knew what you wanted too. jake always knew. he just loved to tease you. it was his favorite part, hearing you beg and plead for him to fuck you. he loved how whiny your voice got, how squirmy you were against him. but most of all, jake loved how he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your boyfriend’s magical fingers, but as soon as he found your clit the area around you began spinning. your head fell back against the seat and your thighs parted ways immediately for him.

“fuck, you’re drenched.” his voice was husk, pretty eyes scanning the outside of the bar. there were a few people smoking by the front doors and empty cars filled most of the parking lot. anyone could walk up and catch the two of you and somehow that thought turned him on even more.

when jake attempted to pull your panties to the side, you held his wrist in place to stop him, “no.” your voice was firm and you pulled his hand away. at first, he was hurt. but you had quite a bit to drink and he wasn’t the type of boyfriend to take advantage of you. even if he was already visibly hard in his jeans.

then your voice was soft, shifting to sit on your legs while your hands reached over the middle console to eagerly fumble with his belt buckle. “let me show you how much i love you.” you wanted to be the one to please him this time. to prove how much you worshipped him and his beautiful cock. how he was the only one you could ever want.

once you got his zipper down, you quickly pulled his cock out from under his briefs. and jake’s dick sat straight up, all ready to be touched by you. he felt like he must’ve been dreaming when you licked a long stripe up the base of his cock to his tip, finally taking him in your mouth.

his hand quickly fisted your hair, pulling you closer and shoving his length further down your throat. “f— fuck, that’s my good girl.” his praises made your thighs clench together, jaw relaxing to take more of him. you would take as much as jake wanted you to. always.

it wasn’t until his tip hit the back of your throat that he stopped pushing your head down on him. your sweet eyes screwed shut and you hollowed your cheeks before quickly bobbing your head on his shaft.

“oh god. just like that.” jake’s eyebrows were furrowed, his lips slightly parted and, without even thinking, his hips thrusted upwards to meet your face. you gagged on him and your nails dug roughly into his thighs, earning a whiny moan from him.

with the tight hold jake had on your head and the incessant twitching of his cock in your mouth, you knew your boyfriend was getting close to his climax. plus he was getting much louder. praises and curses fell from his lips incoherently. you sped up on him, his head eventually falling back and legs trembling when his warm load finally coated the inside of your mouth.

you made sure to slowly suck him from the base to his tip, swirling your tongue along each curve and ridged vein on his dick to clean him all up. the smile that pulled at jake lips was absolutely stunning. beautiful little beads of sweat trickled his forehead and he audibly whimpered when you pulled off of him with a pop. your eyes locked with his and he immediately pressed his lips against yours.

you both melted into the kiss right away, you leaning even further over the console until you were bent over on all fours with your skirt bunched at your hips. jake couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss. then he pulled back, reaching his hand behind you to slap your half-naked ass which caused you to yelp loudly. and this time jake didn’t care who happened to see you or your cute panties because after all, you were his.

[captain-hawks]

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

issei matsukawa x f!reader

Casually asking your werewolf roommate to put his scent on you to ward off creeps is...well. It's platonic, until it's not.

wc: 2k tags: 18+ only, werewolf!matsukawa, roommates to lovers speed run, dry humping, mattsun's big dick, werewolf scenting -> 2k event

“Matsukawa.”

Your roommate looks up from where he’s idly scrolling through his phone on the couch, eyes widening a fraction once he sees your outfit. 

Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of the short dress, steeling yourself to ask the question that’s been idling in your mind all afternoon. “I’m supposed to be going to The Black Crow tonight for my friend’s birthday—”

“My condolences,” he cuts in, face blanching slightly as he puts his phone down on the coffee table. 

Sighing, you nod. “Yeah, it wasn’t my first pick either. But anyway, I kind of wanted to ask you for a favor.”

He winces. “Please don’t tell me your friend is still trying to get you to hook her up with me.”

It’s embarrassing how relieved you were when he shot that down months ago—not that you’d ever tell him that. 

You shake your head, snorting. “No, definitely not. I just…I want to have a good time without having to deal with the weirdos that always hang around there. And one of the girls in my lit class the other day was talking about how nice it is to have a were boyfriend, because she’s always scented when she goes out now. Nobody bothers her.”

Matsukawa waits patiently for you to continue.

“SoIwasmaybewonderingifyou’dscentmebeforeIleave.”

He blinks.

“As a friend,” you add, for good measure, to punctuate your mortifying word vomit. 

He blinks again, lips parting.

Heart pounding with embarrassment, you turn on your heel and squeak out, “God, I knew that was going to be weird. Forget I said anything please and thanks. Bye!”

“Wait.”

You’re stopped by a hand loosely wrapping its way around your wrist, Matsukawa leaning forward off of the couch cushions. 

Soul three-quarters into its journey of leaving your body, you slowly turn to face him once more.

“I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you know what you’re asking for.” 

There’s something slightly odd that wavers in his voice when he says it, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“You just have to like, hold me for a little bit, right?”

He looks up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to you. “Yeah, uh. It’s not that. You’re a human, so it might not affect you in the same way. But it’s…scenting is very intimate for my kind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if it ends up being too much.”

Crossing your arms, you furrow your brow. “We’ve been friends for like, eight years, Mattsun. We’ve hugged plenty of times. I’ll be fine.”

Scratching the back of his head, he nods, gesturing for you to come and sit next to him on the couch. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

He puts an arm around you, his skin warm against your bare shoulders. Your heart knocks against your ribcage at his proximity, as it always has, but that’s a secret you’ll keep firmly locked behind your teeth. You asked Matsukawa to do this because you trust him, nothing more. 

Slowly, gentle notes of pine begin to settle over you, drifting and settling like delicate needles atop freshly fallen snow. 

It’s subtle, but something inside of you stirs all the same, rising like dust motes in a cracked window’s breeze.

Your skin prickles.

Your toes curl. 

Matsukawa leans in, his nose pressed to the side of your neck, and like a carefully twisting dial, the smell is amplified. A sweet, herbal scent dances across your nostrils, tickling the back of your throat—lavender. A field of purple flowers sways delicately in the wind, and you feel warm all over.

Your tongue rests heavily in your mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, lips moving against your neck as he speaks.

Your ribcage shudders beneath the weight of what’s blooming behind it, a trellis for the edges of your fragile heartstrings. 

You nod.

Matsukawa inhales and begins to drag his nose down the side of your neck, the day-old stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin as he rubs his face against it.

Lemon. The clean scent of lemon trickles in, buried beneath the pine and lavender. You want to tip your head back and part your lips, feel drops of sour juice sink onto your tongue. 

(You want Matsukawa to grasp your chin, to slip his thumb into your mouth and hold your tongue there as you inhale—)

Your fingers dig into the couch cushions.

You swallow. 

Matsukawa’s wavy black hair is soft against your face as he moves to the base of your throat. And it’s funny, because you know the eucalyptus scent of his shampoo like the back of your hand, can picture the brown bottle where it sits nestled between your shaving cream and body wash.

But right now, while you specifically remember the sight of his dripping wet hair this morning when he walked into the kitchen after showering, right now—

You can’t smell it at all.

Not over the all-consuming scents that permeate you from head to toe. 

“Oh,” you gasp, unable to hold back the noise that slips out of you, gut churning at the sensation as his lips skirt your collarbone.

He pauses, slowly going to pull away, and before you can think better of it, you thread your fingers in his hair.

“No, no,” you exhale, a little dazed. “It’s fine, it’s…keep going.”

He’s still for a moment.

“Please,” you add.

Matsukawa breathes out, his breath hot and damp against your sternum, and you roll your shoulders.

Pine and lavender and lemon and heat—

“I should move to your other side to get the rest—”

You shift, not waiting for him to finish his sentence as you start to throw a leg over his lap, your body acting before your mind can fully contemplate the action. Matsukawa grunts, and the room sways as strong hands grip your waist, pulling you fully into his lap in one swift movement. Your dress is rucked up enough to allow your thighs to spread wide, and you try not to think about the way your panties are now on clear display. 

Forehead falling against his, you’re both quiet, save for the sounds of your breathing.

“Okay?” he asks, voice a little rough.

“Yeah.”

Matsukawa leans back in, bringing his face to the other side of your neck that he’s yet to rub his scent on. It’s more difficult to mask how affected you are by this, now that you’re straddling his lap. Your mind floats untethered in a lush forest, and you unconsciously press closer.

Something rumbles in Matsukawa’s chest, and the hand that’s still curled around your hip flexes, thumb pressing into your hipbone. His free hand slides up to the back of your neck, fingers slipping through the hair at your nape. 

Lush lavender interspersed with pine needles.

Matsukawa’s face strays a haphazard path as he scents his way across all of the exposed skin he can reach, his breathing going a bit ragged. 

Lemons and tall trees and a soft forest floor.

You tilt your head to the side, and he buries his face in the tender juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Matsukawa,” you exhale. 

Matsukawa shifts, and teeth graze your skin.

You’re on the verge of combusting. 

“Issei, please.”

It was an accident, the slip of his name. But Matsukawa just shudders beneath you, one hand cupping the side of your face. “I can stop, if you want.”

He misunderstood.

And you’ve slipped so deeply into the cradle of his lap, his erection now lies flush against your cotton panties.

“No,” you whisper. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Why?” he rasps. 

Your lips move of their own volition, “It feels so good.”

He growls, but the sound is somehow soft. It goes right to the simmering heat between your legs all the same. “Yeah?”

You nod, inhaling slowly as you run a hand over your sternum, body arching into his. 

“Then enjoy it,” he murmurs, both hands now on your hips.

He breathes hot and heavy against your shoulder, and you card your fingers through his black hair. Giving in to the urge, you tug, just a little. Just hard enough for him to—

“Hah—” he exhales, tongue sliding in a firm, broad stroke over the low neckline of your dress, skirting the swell of your breasts. 

Matsukawa rocks his hips upward, fingers pressing into your skin, and you gasp at the friction of his hard cock against your swollen clit. You belatedly realize just how wet your panties are, the material now soaked through with sticky arousal as it clings to your sopping folds. 

“You have no idea,” he grounds out. “How good you smell.”

“Me?” you ask, breathless. You thought scents were strictly a werewolf thing. 

He nods, dragging his nose from the hollow of your throat to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe. “Humans can't smell themselves, but wolves can.”

He inhales deeply.

“Salt water and oranges,” he groans.

Your chest flutters at this new information, and he nips at your earlobe.

“But when you’re—” He groans, rocking his cock against your clothed cunt again. “When you’re like this…”

In any other situation, you might be mortified over what he’s implying. But right now, all you can do is whimper as he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss over the corner of your jaw and tells you how you smell when you’re aroused with a gravel-rough voice that will fucking haunt you until you die, probably. 

“It gets sweeter…like a peach,” Matsukawa murmurs. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Oh.

Your cunt aches as you dry hump his erection, mouth watering at the sheer length of it. When you look down, the back of your neck heats up as you see the dark stain on his gray sweatpants, your slick arousal having soaked clear through your underwear.

He must see you looking, because one of his hands slides to the small of your back to urge you to keep going as he murmurs, “I don’t mind.”

You gasp when he presses up into you harder, and the zap of pleasure that ricochets in your chest and settles in your gut leaves you dizzy with need. Shiny precum pools on his abdomen, the head of his cock flushed red as it pokes out from the waistband of his pants. 

“Issei, can you—” your chest heaves as you try to get the words out. “Will you ki—”

Matsukawa doesn’t let you finish, one large hand cupping the back of your head as he brings his mouth crashing into yours. He swallows down your gasp of surprise, the moan of pleasure that leaves you at the feeling of his plush lips slotted against your own. 

His stubble caresses your chin as his tongue skirts the seam of your mouth, beckoning your lips to part. Matsukawa deepens the kiss, his other hand wholly palming your ass while you drag yourself up and down his length. It’s possessive, the way he’s touching you now. Your entire body shudders and trembles with pleasure, your raw nerves alight as your composure slips with each thrust.

Pine and lavender and lemon and Issei, Issei, Issei—

You don’t realize you’re crying out his name until you feel him cup your face and start to murmur your own, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watches you come in his lap. 

When you can finally breathe again, you look down to find thick ropes of cum all over his t-shirt as he tugs up the waistband of his pants to cover his spent cock. 

Pine.

Lavender.

Lemon.

Issei.

He blinks a few times, dragging a hand through his hair before he stares at you, dazed.

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, and there’s a banging noise at the front door, followed by the distant shout of one of your friends yelling, “Let’s paaaaaarty!”

But what the fuck just happened—

You glance between the door and Matsukawa, and he gives you a lopsided smile. “Go.”

Sighing, you start to pull yourself out of his lap, but a firm grip on your hip stops you. Matsukawa takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he adds, “We’ll talk about this later.”

[bluejeanstrash]

tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, domestic scenes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of marriage | wc: 744

‘is he okay?’ 

‘mmm’ seungcheol nods, carefully closing the door behind him. ‘he’ll be fine. he fell asleep but i’ve kept the puke bucket next to the bed incase he needs it’ 

‘cheollie, we really need to throw that thing’ you make a face, thinking about how many times it had been used. 

‘yeah, but people keep throwing up in our house!’ 

‘that’s because you keep making them drink way too much!’ seungcheol’s “home bar” was 3 bottles short of a liquor store. he was extremely proud of his collection and very generous with it, offering offensively expensive drinks to any and every guest that entered your home.

tonight, passed out in the guest room was hoshi, who had been taken out midway through his fourth drink. he hadn’t even made it to the dinner part of the dinner party you both were hosting.

seungcheol pouts in response, picking up a dirty glass left on the bar ‘do you want me to do the dishes, my love?’ 

‘nope, i’ve got it. can you clean up and take out the trash instead?’ he gets on it right away, pausing for a second to rub your shoulders when bringing the glass over. a second turns into a minute, and the rub into a mini massage as his fingers move deftly, kneading all those little knots away.

‘thank you baby, i needed that’ you sigh, and the next thing you know his arms are wrapped around you, his chin resting on the slope of your shoulder ‘you know what was really nice today?’ 

‘hmmn?’ 

‘you know when joshua’s friend…mark? yeah, mark. when he thought we were married’

it was first time it had ever happened. ‘so, how did you and your husband meet?’ mark had asked.

‘oh, he’s my boyfriend’ you had corrected him and moved on, but seungcheol was stuck right there. boyfriend? no, that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore. why would he ever want to be called your boyfriend when he could be your husband instead? a demotion, really.

‘i liked it. a lot. husband-’ he presses a kiss to the warm skin of your neck ‘-and wife’, and another, before pulling you into him. he brings his arm forward to turn off the tap before turning you around to face him.

‘what do you say? should we do it? get married?’ each question asked in between little pecks.

‘if this is your idea of a proposal-’

he chuckles, circling back ‘get married. make you my wife. get you…pregnant’ seungcheol feels a little giddy honestly, giddy at his own words. he’s already made up his mind — he wants this future, and only with you.

‘you want to put a baby in me?’ you tease, starting to feel a little hot under your clothes.

‘oh, i want to put many, many babies in you’ he mutters, his lips parting yours, impatient hands coming around to untie the knot of your apron.

‘want to put one in you right now...’ he grabs your ass to lift you up, your legs wrapping around him instantly. you pull off your rubber gloves, tossing them aside and lock your arms around his neck. you kiss him, a little needily, tugging at his hair to let him know you need him right here, right now. he turns around to take you to the kitchen island, opening his eyes for a second to see hoshi — hoshi who’s discreetly trying to make his way out of the kitchen.

‘shit!’ seungcheol’s grip on you loosens abruptly before he catches you, carefully putting you down.

‘sorry! i’m so sorry!’ hoshi covers his eyes, stumbling back ‘i didn’t see anything. i just..i threw up..in that bucket thing and didn’t know what to do with it’

‘it’s fine, it’s fine. go to the room. i’m coming’ seungcheol takes a second to calm himself down, taking deep breaths to redirect his blood flow.

‘this is what it’s going to be like with a kid, you know’ you joke, bending to grab the fallen gloves which doesn’t help his raging boner at all ‘at least hoshi can clean up after himself up. who’s going to clean up our child’s projectile vomit?’

there’s a moment of silence.

‘not it’

‘not it!’

you both giggle — you turning back to do the dishes, and seungcheol going to check up on hoshi, both of you back in the moment, dreaming of the future to come.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

In Between

Description: of course you’d come to them if your boyfriend wasn’t treating you right. They were your best friends after all. You weren’t expecting them to take advantage of the situation though.

Tags: minors dni, smut, oral (female receiving), edging, dubcon (better safe than sorry), if I missed any please let me know 😭

(A/N: Omg I’m finally just gonna put it out I’ve been writing this on and off for so long lmao still not edited though cuz fuck the grammar police hahaha I hope you all like it. Please like, follow, and reblog with a comment 💜✌🏾)

—————————————————-

“He wouldn’t what?” Bucky asked with a look of bewilderment on his face about what you had just told him.

Maybe you were doing the most by spilling things, but what can you say, you were upset. Had just walked in on your boyfriend with someone else after he’d told you over and over again that nothing had been going on. To say you were in your feelings was an understatement.

It wasn’t like things hadn’t been on and off for a long time anyway but this was the final straw. You were so sick of him doing this to you. Of him lying to your face.

Telling you that you’re the only one and that he was serious about you. Honestly you really should have known be would have turned out to be a player. The worst part was that it seemed like you were never the one to get off. Felt like you’d wasted your time. Probably why you were spilling everything to The Winter Solider.

It was almost like things were coming out as word vomit. Secrets spilling from your mouth that you hadn’t even told Natasha as they were too embarrassing.

Except he was sitting there acting like he really cared and clearly you needed that. Even more so when you started to say way too much.

“I know, right!” You scoffed. Thinking about the way he’d treated getting you off like some kind of chore.

Honestly you should have dumped him after the first time he said to you, ‘I don’t eat pussy.’

“So he never?” Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shook your head, sniffling. He looked so taken aback.

“That’s bullshit,” Bucky said once again with a scoff. Eyes trailing all over your body. Thinking to himself what an idiot your ex was for not appreciating what he had. “Aw, Honey,” he cooed, grabbing your hand when he noticed you tearing up.

As if you should be wasting tears on that asshole.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled some more. “I don’t even know why I’m upset right now. He’s not even worth it.”

Well, he was happy that you knew that.

“It’s okay,” he replied. “You know I’m right here.”

You nodded as he leaned forward to pull you into a hug. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Needing to melt into him as the vulnerability hit you like a freight train.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you managed to say, pulling away so you could look at him. “Steve’s so lucky to have someone like you.”

Bucky glanced down at your lips. Wondering what Steve would say if he even saw the two of you in this position. You needing a shoulder to cry on as he wished he could comfort you in the way he wanted to.

Not like Steve wouldn’t understand. He saw the way his boyfriend looked at you.

“Yeah well, Steve’s stuck with me so…”

You chuckled stopping to wipe your eyes. Bucky gently placed a hand on your cheek so he could do the same. Thumbing away the droplets.

“Wish I could find a great guy like you. Hell like either of you. Seems like I’m only ever getting into relationships with assholes.”

That kind of sparked something in his chest. Hearing you say that. Sitting here spilling his heart out to him.

“Oh yeah?” He asked. “Well you know I think you deserve better.”

You smiled and wiped your eye. “Thanks, James.”

“It’s okay,” he said, finally reaching out to give you a hug. Seeing that you clearly needed it. “You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know,” you whimpered. Honestly you didn’t even know who else to come to besides him and Steve. They’d really done so much for you after they’d moved in. Sure you kind of had to get used to living next door to the superhero couple, but so far they’d kept you pretty safe.

It was super convent. Hadn’t had to walk any groceries up to your place in months either. Seemed like the two of them were always there to take care of whatever you needed. Took such good care of you. Always.

So how did you think Bucky was going to feel when he heard that your ex hadn’t been. As if any man wouldn’t be happy to have a face full of pussy. Especially yours. Honestly what a fucking idiot. Even the idea of getting a taste was making him feel things he normally didn’t.

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t eat you out, though,” he laughed. “What a- why didn’t you say anything.”

“I don’t know!” You laughed too, pulling away. “I just… I don’t know…”

“It’s okay. We’ll just find you someone that’s going to take care of you right.”

Once again you laughed and honestly he was just happy to see it. Hated having to see you cry. Especially over some bullshit like a man that couldn’t even pleasure you properly. Why cry over him when Bucky could be making you smile.

“You’ve got such a cute little laugh,” he complimented. Not like it wasn’t something he did a lot.

Him and Steve both did. Always wanting to let you know how beautiful they thought you were. Thought they’d just been doing it as your friends, but Bucky just couldn’t deny his attraction forever. Look at you.

Even crying you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. Had gotten all dolled up for an asshole that didn’t deserve it. Makeup creeping down your face. Fuck. You shouldn’t have to waste such a look.

You let another one of those giggles, looking down and using your shoulder to rub away a tear. Bucky leaned forward so he could place his hand underneath your chin. Lifting your head up. “Honestly, Doll,” he started, “you might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“You’re just saying that,” you sniffled.

“No, I mean it. You know I do.“

“Bullshit,” you replied.

“I really do,” he said. “Why do you think Steve and I have to take care of you so much. Pretty thing like you shouldn’t have shit to worry about.”

Inside your heart felt like it could stop. He just looked so handsome as he spoke. Had recently gotten a haircut so he looked even better. Fresh faced. Even in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt he looked hot.

Not like you hadn’t thought about him or Steve before. Knew they were both bisexual so it wasn’t like they wouldn’t ever be interested in you but still it always felt like such a long shot. They were your best friends. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about them at night when you touched yourself. Especially when you had a boyfriend.

And they were from a different time. Actual gentleman back in the day from what you gathered. Wanted their women in the home and spoiled.

Sometimes the idea of it sounded kind of nice. Having a man dote on you. Then you had two of them really, really interested in your well being. Of course you were going to crush a little but you didn’t want to cross any lines.

“I don’t even know what I’d do without you both,” you said.

“Hey, that’s how we feel about you. Who else is going to cook for us and make sure our place is tidy when we’re gone.”

You chuckled. “You make me sound like a housewife.”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean… it’s a good look on you. Could see that.”

“Well, I mean, I’d have to find a guy first.”

“I mean… maybe you already have,” he said.

“What?” You asked with a chuckle. “Bucky, I-,”

“I know,” he cut you off. “But, can I be honest?”

“Okay…”

“You know how much I love having you around and I-,”

“What about Steve?” You asked him. “I can’t just… I can’t just do that to him.”

“We’ll worry about him later,” he replied, stroking your cheek, making you look at him. Finally placing a kiss on your lips.

You quickly pulled away with a gasp. “Bucky, we can’t… he’s my…”

“Shhh, don’t worry about, Steve, Baby,” he tried to assure you, your eyes hitting his. Something about his gaze making you feel warm on the inside.

“I- no we can’t just…”

“Yes we can,” Bucky said. “It’s okay.”

And as bad as you wanted to keep fighting him. For some reason you just couldn’t. As Bucky pulled you close so that he could go back to kissing you.

Fuck his lips did feel good. And everything with your now ex. You were vulnerable. You wanted to feel wanted.

But, Steve…

“Don’t worry about Steve, Baby,” Bucky whispered in your ear again. “Focus on me.”

Bucky’s fingers went under your dress. Gripping your thighs. A curl in his lip. Fuck he was so pretty.

He slowly pushed you down. Climbing on top of you so he could really take control. Pushing your legs up so that he could get in between them. Kissing you more before you could protest.

Bucky was getting his fucking taste. Just because your stupid little boyfriend didn’t want to taste it, didn’t mean he didn’t want to. He was getting it.

“Fuck!” You gasped as he started kissing your collarbone. No longer thinking about your ex or his boyfriend.

Felt good to have you right where he wanted you. Finally. It had taken him this goddamn long.

You laid back as Bucky got on his knees. Placing a kiss on one of your knees first before going up towards your thigh. A breath hitched in your throat. If you were feeling hesitant, he could change your mind.

“Bucky,” you whimpered as he spread your legs, to get a good look at your panty covered pussy.

“So fucking pretty,” he groaned as he looked up at you. His poor girl still obviously shy. That’s okay he’d take care of you. Just needed to-

“Fuck!” You cried as he kissed you through your panties. “We shouldn’t-,” you tried to keep it going.

Not like he cared as he pushed your underwear to the side so he could lick a strip from the bottom up to your clit. Making your words get caught in your throat as you laid back with a moan. Yeah that’s what he fucking thought. He knew you wanted this shit.

You trembled as he feasted on your clitoris. Sinking into the cushions as your hips stuttered. See he knew you liked it. It was so much better when you didn’t fight him. Now he could really give it to you.

He didn’t waste anymore time as he pulled the fabric from your body. Not giving a single fuck as to where it could have possibly been discarded before diving back in. It had been a long time since he’d done this, but it’s not like Steve wasn’t aware that he’d missed a woman’s touch. Maybe more than he realized.

“Fuck me, Bucky,” you sobbed as he got you closer. It had been so long since sex had just been about you that maybe you should take advantage of being a pillow princess. What girl wouldn’t want her hot metal armed best friend to eat her pussy. Can’t believe you tried to turn this down. “Don’t stop!”

Not like he planned too. Especially as he dipped his fingers into your cunt. Twisting them around so he could find your spot.

“Ah!” You cried, as soon as he hit it. That’s his fucking girl. He watched as your face twisted up in pleasure. Could taste how close you were. How yummy you were.

“Buck!” Steve’s voice could be heard from the hallway as the door slammed closed.

You sat up, quickly. Pushing his head away and scooting away from him to smooth out your dress. Shit. Fuck. “Babe, it’s okay,” Bucky whispered.

What the hell does he mean it’s okay. His boyfriend was about to walk in on-

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you were here,” Steve said as he came into the room. Placing a quick peck on Bucky’s lips making your mouth drop. He had to have tasted you on his lips. You found yourself feeling stuck as you sat up, making sure you were covered. “Is everything okay?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Except it was like you couldn’t speak. What the hell were you supposed to even say as if his boyfriends face hadn’t just been close to making you squirt all over it.

“She caught Bryce cheating,” Bucky explained. Funny how that literally had not been on your mind this entire time.

Steve looked taken aback and scoffed. “What? No? Seriously?”

“Y-yeah… with… some girl,” you replied, not wanting to meet his eyes.

The super solider frowned as he grabbed your hand to pull you into a hug. Wrapping his arms around you. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. He’s a fucking idiot,” he said, much like his boyfriend when you’d first told him.

Only making you feel more horrible inside. How the hell could you do this to him. Especially after what Bryce had just done to you.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Maybe I should go.”

“And go where?” Bucky asked. “Not back to that apartment I can tell you that. Just stay here.”

The pair of panties Bucky had taken off of you were practically staring at you from the other side of the room. Steve’s back turned to it. “At least stay for dinner,” he said. “We can get whatever you want.”

Except even the suggestion made you feel more awful. Steve did not deserve this. If anything you should just say it. Not that the words would actually leave your lips. Tongue tied and all you could do was nod.

It was insane how quickly Bucky was able to act totally normal. Or that you were more frustrated that you never actually got the chance to finish. They were right though, you really didn’t have anywhere else to go, but here.

So there you sat right next to Bucky as the three of you ate the dinner Steve had ordered you. Trying to keep your cool as you didn’t want to bring too much attention to yourself. Even as you squirmed in your seat, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Bucky had really done a number on you. Could still feel his mouth on your lapping at your clit.

“So what happened?” Steve had finally asked from his spot across from the two of you. Obviously wanting to know everything. Not like you two weren’t normally close.

Your jaw dropped as you immediately tried to think of a lie. “Um, nothing,” you blurted out.

Bucky put his hand on your thigh, attempting to relax you except you were way too on edge. How could he just be touching you like this.

His boyfriend on the other hand raised an eyebrow at your outburst. “I thought you caught Bryce cheating?” He asked.

You closed your eyes. Duh he was talking about that. “I mean, I did,” you replied with a nervous laugh. “Yeah, he was with some girl.” You sighed.

“Well, what are you going to do now? You know we’re not going to let you go back. We have a perfectly fine guest room,” he said a smile on his face. Looking every bit of nice and sweet as he always did. The guilt already feeling like it was going to eat you up.

Didn’t even pay attention as you felt Bucky’s metal hands going up your thigh more. Getting dangerously close to the intimate place his face had just been buried inside of. You put your hand over it to move him, but he didn’t budge. Not giving a single shit.

You gulped at his fingers found their way up your dress again. Biting your lip as he chuckled. Not taking his eyes off of you as you struggled to answer. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky laughed. “You’re staying with us, Doll.”

You crinkled your nose which turned into biting the inside of your cheek, trying to hold in a moan. “We won’t take no for an answer.”

Well, that much was obvious.

——————————————————

The two of them helped you get settled in. You wore one of Bucky’s t-shirts since you literally didn’t have anything else. Had finally managed to grab your panties before you hoped Steve had seen them.

Your body still screaming out for release. Before giving you his shirt he’d whispered in your ear. “And you better not make yourself cum when you’re in the shower. Only I’m allowed to do that.” Wanting to prolong your torture.

What kind of shit was that. How did he get you so worked up like this. So easily. Hell that whole time you were with Bryce you can’t remember that happening. Not like you wanted to think about him.

The distraction was pretty nice, you had to admit. Who had time to think about being cheated on when your hot best friend was trying to eat your pussy.

As you opened the door you poked your head out, hesitating to call out to them. Hey, guys?” You called. Poking your head out from the restroom.

“Yeah?” Both of them were quick to chime in.

“Can you bring me some shirts!?” You asked. “I’m a little… exposed.”

You couldn’t see him, but Bucky snickered as Steve tilted his head at him. Both of them standing on either side of their king sized bed. “What?” Bucky said. “Oh come on I’m sure it’s fine,” Bucky tried to say with a straight face, but as soon as he was done he chuckled.

Steve shook his head, but couldn’t help the smirk that came on his face. “It’s really short,” you complained. “And I don’t have clean underwear.”

With that Bucky winked in his boyfriend’s direction. “Be right back.”

The smirk didn’t drop from the super soliders face as his boyfriend left the room. Only to go back to making up the third spot on the bed between them.

“What’s up, Doll?” Bucky asked seeing your head still sticking out.

“It’s too short,” you said, biting your lip.

He raised an eyebrow. Going to push the door open, not caring that you’d been blocking it. “Lemme see.”

“No!” You protested.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh come. You’re acting like I didn’t just eat you out,” he said.

“Steve is right outside,” you whispered harshly.

He rolled his eyes. “Steve’s in the room.”

“Yeah and he has super soldier hearing,” you pressed.

“It’s not all he has,” Bucky said under his breath. “Doll, you’re fine. I can’t even see anything.”

“My ass is out!” You gasped.

The man smirked at that, getting behind you to press your ass into his crotch. “And what a nice ass it is,” he whispered in your ear. Flesh hand landing on your breast to squeeze it and not giving a shit as you tried to swat him away. Going down your body until he was pushing up the shirt.

“We can’t!” You protested as his hand slipped down to your pussy. As bad as you wanted him to touch you, it didn’t seem wise. Fuck your body was practically crying for the release he couldn’t give you earlier.

“Everything okay?” Came the other man’s voice from outside the door.

Bucky scrunched his nose. “Yeah,” he called. Going to open up the door. “Tell her it’s not that bad,” he pressed.

You tried to tug it down so it was a little bit more past your thighs. Face heating up as Steve scanned up and down your body. “You look fine, Doll.”

Ugh. There the both of them go. The two of them were way too handsome to be having you stand here exposed with a dripping wet pussy. You bit your lip. Not like anyone else would see you. Just them. “Well… ok…” you sighed.

“Wanna watch a movie before bed?” Steve asked.

You nodded. Bucky put his hand on your lower back. Going down dangerously close to your ass. Only to finally come down to squeeze it tightly. Making you yelp. “Ah!”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows but laughed. “You ok?”

“I’m fine,” you squeaked, putting your hand over your mouth. Before making a pointed look at his boyfriend.

“Anyway, I was thinking we could watch a movie before bed,” Steve suggested.

“Actually, I’m kinda tired,” you immediately replied. Going to stretch your arms up and yawn until you remember how exposed you were.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fine,” Bucky said, nudging you.

“No. I have to be at work so early,” you replied. “It’s already way too late.”

“Hell no. You’re taking a sick day.” He looked appalled at the notion.

“I can’t.” You sniffled. “Besides, I’m off the next day. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky huffed. “Alright, fine, but what are you going to wear to work then?”

“I’ll just wash my clothes before we go to sleep,” you replied with a sigh. Haven’t exactly thought all of that through.

“So, movie it is?” Steve said.

Of course they’d get their way. Trying to keep your shirt from riding up too much as you went on your tippy toes to put your stuff in the wash. Closing your eyes when you realized your panties were still missing.

You peeked over to where they would have been. Except Steve would have definitely noticed them by now. “Looking for these?” Bucky asked. Holding up the pair. You immediately glanced over at where Steve was in the kitchen before reaching out to snatch them. “Ah, ah, ah,” he held them above his head. “Finders keepers, Doll,” he teased.

You let out a huff, crossing your arms. “Why are you being like this?” You asked. Honestly it was all so shocking. Normally he was such a sweetheart. He eats you out once and this is what he turns into?

Bucky shrugged. “Because I can,” he replied with a wink before leaning into kiss your cheek. “Now wipe that look off your face before I do it for you. You hear me?”

You nodded and sniffled. Wishing you’d gone anywhere else. Natasha’s maybe. Or hell even Sam’s place would have been fine. Not like you didn’t like how Bucky’s mouth had felt on you. It’s just now you were feeling terrible for doing all of this under Steve’s nose.

“Good girl,” he said, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

You sighed as he went back to the bedroom. Making you raise an eyebrow. Weren’t the three of you supposed to be watching a movie?

“Hey, Doll,” Steve said from his spot on the bed. Going through Netflix. “What movie did you wanna watch?”

“Oh? We’re watching in here?”

“Yeah?” He replied. “That a problem?”

You looked over at Bucky who despite not responding, had a smirk on his face that you wish you could wipe off of him. Sitting there smug with his hand in his pocket. No doubt toying with the pair of panties he’d stolen.

“Actually I think I’m just gonna go to bed after all,” you said. “I’m really tired.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Well, I forgot to set up the guest room.”

You crinkled your nose. Of course he did. “That’s ok. I can just sleep on the couch.”

“What?” Steve chimed in. “We have more than enough room for you, Doll. Come on.”

They had to be fucking with you. No way was Bucky getting what he wanted just like that. “No it’s fine. I’ll just get blankets from the linen closet.”

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice was stern. Commanding even. “Come. Here.”

You hated it when your feet started moving. Whether you wanted them to or not. “What?” You asked, not meeting his eyes as you stood in front of him.

“First of all, drop the attitude. Second, we told you, you’re sleeping in here so get over it.”

Steve watched the two of you, not saying a word. Didn’t he care that his boyfriend was trying to manipulate you? Right in front of him. Your bottom lip quivered, tears prickling at your eyes.

“I just wanna go to bed,” you whispered.

“Fine. There’s a perfectly good spot right between us. Is there a problem with that?” You shook your head. Not wanting to even argue anymore. Didn’t even feel worth it.

It was just too much for one night. All of it was. Can’t believe you hadn’t just started bursting out crying right between them.

Instead you tried to get some sleep. As restless as you were. Trying to keep yourself from tossing and turning since you didn’t want to bother them. Not like you had much room considering you were squeezed between two giant super soliders. “You ok?” Steve asked in a tired voice.

“Hm?” You hummed, not taking your eyes off the ceiling. “Can’t sleep.”

He yawned. “Hey, I know your ex was an ass, but you know Buck and I are going to be with you through this whole thing, right?”

You nodded, not saying out loud what was really on your mind. Fuck this was so wrong. Screwed up on so many levels. Too bad you didn’t kick Bryce out instead of coming over here, but at the time it was the natural thing to do.

Hell there was barely even any room between their giant bodies. Even in this large bed. Felt like if Bucky rolled over he’d end up squishing you. He’d gotten so damn close. Bad enough that the t-shirt they’d given you was sitting above your ass now.

“It’s ok I’ll be out before you guys even know it,” you said.

Steve scoffed. “Don’t be silly. You know you can stay here as long as you want. A city like this is no place for a little girl like you all alone.”

You scrunched up your nose at that. “I’m not a kid, Steve. I can take care of myself,” you assured.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to. Not as long as Bucky and I are around to do it.”

Speak of the devil, that was when he wrapped his arms around your waist. Pulling you against him. Ass going to his crotch. You let out a gasp and tried to wiggle away, but with Steve so close you were stuck. Not like you could get away from him anyway with the hold he had on you.

Not like you didn’t know that he was a cuddler. Not the first time the two of you had fallen asleep together. Never with your naked ass out though.

“It’s ok, Steve. Really,” you tried to assure him. As you were doing that, Bucky decided it would be a good time to sneak his hand between your legs. Taking advantage of you being bare. You let out a gasp, jumping as soon as his hand made contact.

“You ok?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh huh,” you squeaked out, trying to grab at his hands, but all he did was use one of his to hold yours down as he continued touching you.

“Hold still, little girl,” Bucky whispered in your ear, saying the last words in a mocking tone.

Your face felt hot as you looked forward at the blond. He had to know right. There was no way Bucky was just doing this right in front of him and he had no idea.

He pawed your thighs. Making sure they were nice and spread as his hand hands continued their torture. One going underneath the shirt to cup your breasts. Tweaking your nipples. He was groping you like he didn’t give a fuck about getting caught. Only made worse when his fingers finally touched your clit.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying out. Especially as he pushed you back so you were really pressed against him. Hard dick to your ass.

“I’m ok,” you tried to assure Steve. The words on the tip of your tongue. Pressure building in your stomach already as you’d never had the chance to finish earlier.

“When are you going to get your stuff?” Steve asked. “You know we’re going to come with you, right.”

Instead of fighting him you just replied, “T-thanks, Steve.”

“Always,” he said. “You know Bucky and I are always here for you.”

Well, obviously.

“I know we don’t say it a lot, but you mean a lot to us,” he said and all you could do was swallow as you felt his boyfriend’s fingers bringing you closer and closer to what you never got to have earlier. “And Bryce was such an asshole. He never deserved you.”

You swallowed down the moan that was threatening to bubble out of your mouth. Only made worse as you looked into Steve’s bright blue eyes as he sleepily looked over at you. Not like you hadn’t heard that a million times from both of them, but right now he just looked so freaky and-

“Ugh,” came out of your mouth which you quickly covered up with a cough.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Steve asked once again.

“Never better,” you lied through your teeth.

Steve yawned. “We should get some sleep. Goodnight, Doll.”With that he leaned forward pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. Catching you all the way off guard.

“Steve-,” you gasped, putting your hand up to your lips.

“What?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You can’t just-,”

“It’s not big deal,” he assured. “Bucky won’t care. It was just a little goodnight kiss.”

“Yeah, but-,”

He cut you off once more. “Unless you want it be to more,” he said with a wink.

What. The. Fuck.

“Goodnight, Doll,” he said not giving you a chance to say more as he closed his eyes. Smile on his face.

Bucky stopped what he was doing to put his face into your shoulder. Light snores coming from him. Hell his hand was still in your panties. Almost like he was making sure you couldn’t get away from him. The worst part about it was that not once did he let you fall off the edge.

You’d definitely need to start looking for places tomorrow.

[jinnie-ret]

heatstroke

stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: heat stroke, vomiting

word count: 1.9k

summary: y/n suffers from heat stroke on the day of their performance at lollapalooza

As voted by you!

It's finally here! Sorry it took me a while to post this after the poll ended, but I hope you enjoy!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

They had made it to Paris. Y/N couldn't believe how big the crowd would be for their performance at the festival 'Lollapalooza'. The sun was shining, and all she wanted to do was fully appreciate the nice weather. Although, where there was a Changbin, there was always chaos.

"Hwang Hyunjin!" Changbin called from opposite Y/N in his deck chair.

"Why do you keep calling me? Wae? Wae. Wae?" Hyunjin loomed over Changbin in a hoodie and sunglasses, wondering why the older member wanted his attention.

"Jinnie how are you wearing a hoodie right now? The sun's out, it's boiling," Y/N raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's not that hot," he shook his head at her, probably side eyeing her from behind his shades.

Each to their own, Y/N thought.

Somehow they came onto the topic of noodles but Y/N wasn't really fussed, she had ramen all the time back home.

She was more trying to relax, and she couldn't help but fall asleep from the comforting warmth of the French sunshine.

"Y/Nnie, wake up, you look like a tomato," Jeongin shook her awake, and as she became fully aware she realised her arms and neck was feeling quite hot.

Shit, she forgot her sun cream.

"You good? Your arms are so red," Chan peered at her, concerned.

"Mmm, my neck feels hot too," Y/N sits up in the deck chair, brushing her hair back so the boys could see.

"Aish that sunburn looks bad, you should have put on some suncream," Felix lightly brushes his finger over her red arm, making her wince.

"Gosh, I'm going to look like a tomato when we perform," Y/N laughs as she looks down at her arms.

"At this rate you won't just look like a tomato, you'll look like the whole garden," Lee Know smirks, proud of his joke.

"Ha, ha, very funny Lee Know," Y/N pats his cheek in a jokingly patronising way, smiling back at him.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Y/N," Chan looked over her, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry Channie, I just wanted to enjoy the nice weather," Y/N pouted.

"You do realise you can get skin cancer if you burn too much?" Seungmin pointed out, taking a sip of water from his bottle.

"Yah, Seungmin don't say things like that I'll get paranoid," Y/N whacks his arm lightly.

"Hey I'm just saying, your skin will age faster too," Seungmin shrugged.

"I'll look like an old woman next to you guys and I'm the youngest!" Y/N laughed, Han appearing with aloe vera out of nowhere and gently rubbing it into her skin, letting out quiet apologies when she winced.

"That's why I'm helping you, don't want you to look like a 60 year old next to us whilst we still look the same," Han laughed loudly.

"Haha, that would look kinda funny though," Y/N laughed at the thought. Perhaps she'd look like grandma I.N with the rest of the group alongside her.

"You know what else would be funny?" Changbin wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"What?" Y/N asked curiously, shifting her body to stand and face him.

"To see you dancing on stage like a tomato, everyone going crazy because of how big and red you are," Changbin maniacally giggled.

The boys burst out laughing at the statement and Y/N's face.

"Huh? Big?!" Y/N gasped laughing.

"I was talking about your cheeks, they're really big and red right now," Changbin laughed, waving his hands in defense of how what he said had sounded.

"Haha, I'll introduce myself like, hi! This isn't Y/Nnie, I'm tomato today!" Y/N put on her stage voice, pretending to introduce herself to her fans.

The members all laugh at her, Jeongin walking up to her and tickling her sides.

"Hey! Are you the new mascot for ketchup?" he cheekily grinned, eyes disappearing through his smile.

"Yah! Jeongin!" Y/N guffawed from his remark.

"Ah, our tomato is blushing so much," Lee Know pats her head smirking.

"Stop, stop," Y/N waves them away.

"Haha, seriously though, come inside the tent for a bit, you should stay out of the sun," Chan guided her into their tent where they were setup before their performance.

"Yeah it's not like we're performing until a few hours anyways," Lee Know nodded, as they all sat around inside.

"Aish, I'm tired," Y/N laid her head down in Han's lap, his hand brushing through her hair out of habit.

"You were literally just napping," Hyunjin raised a brow at her.

"Yeah but..." Y/N closed her eyes feeling relaxed at the familiar feeling.

"Drink some water first," Hyunjin put a bottle of water with a straw in it to her face.

Still with her eyes shut she took a sip and then relaxed. It wasn't until a couple of hours later that she was woken up and ushered to the stylists and makeup artists to get ready.

The crowd was insane. And really, they were the only thing keeping her going as she could feel her energy depleting. She didn't notice the glances from the boys throughout the performance, occasionally spotting her swaying yet she still managed to keep her vocals stable as they performed Superbowl for the first time ever, and Item for the second time ever.

The euphoria running through her veins began to leave her once they reached backstage. With a smile she listened to Felix end their set to hype the crowd with Seven Nation Army. But she couldn't help her slumped figure as she sat down after her desperate search for a chair.

"You good, Y/Nnie?" Chan patted her shoulder, trying to get her attention.

"Hot," Y/N panted, tugging at the collar of her leather jacket that she had been fitted with for the stage performance.

"Take it off then," Changbin helped her shake it off, now feeling concerned at her heavily sweating state.

"What's going on with Y/N?" some of the other members asked as they walked over.

"Ugh, my head," she groaned, now leant forward as she gripped onto her knees for some stability.

"Have some water, silly," Seungmin encouraged her to take his own, yet her shaky hand wasn't very reassuring to the others.

"Y/Nnie, you can't even hold onto it, are you dizzy? What's the matter?" Felix poured out questions, worried about the state she was in.

"Mmm," Y/N nods, as Jeongin helps her sip from the water bottle.

"Ah that's not good," Hyunjin shakes his head, frowning.

"Here, come on, let's get you relaxed somewhere else," Changbin helps her stand, yet as her body becomes upright she stumbles, Lee Know helping to support her balance.

Y/N suddenly tears up, feeling scared about how she was feeling. It was all too overwhelming, and everything felt too hot.

"C-can't feel my arms," Y/N whimpered as tears fell down her cheeks, the boys murmuring amongst themselves worriedly.

"You can't feel your arms?" Felix asked, a scared look on his face, and that made Y/N feel worse, she didn't want the boys to be stressed out for her sake.

"I'm sorry, I..." Y/N trailed off, still panting as she was guided back to her chair, the boys deciding it was for the better for her to rest for now where she was, instead of moving her somewhere else.

"You're okay. Everything is going to be ok, sweetheart, we've got you, yeah?" Chan hushed her soothingly, Han rubbing her back in small circles.

"Should we call a medic?" Jeongin asked, eyes wide with uneasiness.

"Yes, good idea, Innie," Lee Know nodded at him, as they both went to look for some help.

"Y/N, you're ok, you're going to be ok," Hyunjin quietly comforted her, a light grip on her hand as he knelt down beside her.

Y/N groaned again from her headache getting worse.

"Where are those medics?" Changbin asked, looking around frustratedly with his hands on his hips, wondering what was taking so long.

"Don't... worry... don't waste... on me..." Y/N could barely get her words out, especially as a wave of nausea overcome her.

"Yah, it's not a waste, you're clearly not well right now Y/N," Han looked sullen, now fanning her face with a piece of paper he had found.

"S-sorry... ugh, feel... sick," she mumbled dizzily, slumped in the chair.

"You feel sick?" Hyunjin worried.

"I'm gonna... ugh," Y/N, with all her willpower, lifted herself out of the chair, yet it wasn't enough to keep her standing as she collapsed to her knees on the ground and threw up whatever was in her system. The boys were unable to catch her and yelled out as she fell.

"Y/N! Shit!" Changbin held her against him.

"Where are the medics?!" Chan yelled angrily, stress consuming him as their maknae was on the ground.

"Ah, ugh, I'm, ah I'm sorry," Y/N whimpered, tears running down her face from her own panic and the feeling of throwing up.

"You don't have to be sorry, it's ok, just take a deep breath," Han held her hair back, looking around at the boys with his eyes shining with his own tears as he feared she wouldn't be ok.

Y/N threw up again, gasping for breath.

"Is that all of it?" Hyunjin whispered from beside them, Y/N tearily nodding as she slumped back in Changbin's arms, feeling dazed.

Lee Know and Jeongin suddenly rushed over with the medics, both of them seeming angry.

"Finally! Where were they?!" Chan asked them, sighing disappointedly.

"Packing up, they were ready to go even though we only just finished performing," Lee Know gritted his teeth as the medics lifted Y/N onto a stretcher and took her through to a medical room, much cooler with air conditioning blasting through the room.

They held a wet cloth against her forehead and against her burns to try and lower her body temperature. The boys couldn't do anything but wait anxiously as they saw their youngest laying down and getting treated.

"Her temperature is dropping, that's a good sign," the medic said out loud to the boys.

Half an hour had passed and Y/N was now more aware of her surroundings, the medics clearing that she could head back to the hotel with the boys, telling them that if her condition worsens again that they need to call an ambulance immediately.

"I'm sorry," Y/N sleepily muttered as they helped her into the company cars.

"Don't apologise, we were more concerned about you," Seungmin informed her, an arm wrapped around her waist as he and Hyunjin guided her into the back of the car.

"That's why I feel bad," Y/N bit her lip.

"It's ok, you can rest now, don't worry about it ok? I know it's easier said than done but we'll make sure you're ok, and we're doing that because we care about you, yeah?" Chan said from the front seat.

"Ok, ok," she yawned, head leaning against Hyunjin's shoulder.

Once they arrived back at the hotel they didn't let her stay in her own room, as she instead was looked after by Lee Know and Jeongin in another, the two of them making sure she was relaxed and not too hot as they kept the air conditioning on. It may have felt a bit cold for them at one point but they didn't mind, they'd do anything for her. All of the boys would.

tagged: @skz-streamer @oo-li

[brickmvster]

An Old Flame (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Synopsis: After getting hammered at a club in attempts to repair a broken heart, in your drunken stupor, you call the one person you were trying to get over. He takes you back to his place, taking care of you, and it's then you realize that your feelings for him never quite dissipated.

Tags: breaking up and making up/exes to lovers, angst, fluff, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort that goes both ways, reconciliation

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6,309

Author's Note: I'm alive 😭 writer's block sucks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things, I think. I hope you guys enjoy this!! Notes and reblogs are appreciated of course. This has been proofread, but if any mistakes still managed to slip by me, apologies in advance, they're all mine.

I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this but please feel free to imagine any version of him you'd like!

(Read on AO3)

Sobbing in a dirty bathroom stall was definitely not how you envisioned your Friday night going.

The fact that you were also considerably drunk and could feel the liquid sloshing around inside of your belly, threatening to come up your throat and all over the floor, certainly didn't make matters any better.

You had come to the club with a group of friends who were all far more enthusiastic than you to be there. You never considered yourself much of a party person; and if you were going to attend a party, it was always a small one with people that you knew or were at least acquaintances with. At a dingy nightclub, you were surrounded by hundreds of sweaty strangers, and the music was so loud that you were sure you were going to be temporarily deaf for a while. To make the long story short – you weren't looking forward to coming here, but you regrettably let your friends drag you out of the comfort of your home.

The stupid leather pants your friends insisted you wore were feeling too tight. The bathroom was so stuffy and unbearably hot. There were two individuals in the stall next to you engaging in… a certain activity that you really didn't want to be around to hear. And the awful, terrible smell of puke was probably one of the worst things you've ever smelled in your entire life. It was all too much, every single one of your five senses being mercilessly attacked.

You shouldn't have let yourself get wasted; you knew that, and you mentally cursed yourself for such reckless behavior. But the longer you sat at the bar, completely by yourself and with your friends nowhere in sight, it was like no one was there to stop you. You still missed him and you thought alcohol would be better at numbing the pain than a tub of ice cream. Both were terrible items for getting over a heartbreak because they both only made you want to vomit, which is something you always learned the hard way.

That's how you ended up in a stall, tears freely running down your cheeks in a drunken haze. Your friends were on your mind, but more than anything you just wanted to be carried out of here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and opened up your contacts. But for some reason, instead of clicking on one of your friend's names, you kept scrolling further down, subconsciously searching for that specific name that you knew you should've just deleted a long time ago.

You clicked on the little phone icon, and listened attentively to the ringing on the other end. It rang and rang and rang, and it went on for so long that it almost snapped you out of the very stupid thing you were doing, but then–

"Hello?"

Leon actually answered. And even after all this time, his voice was still the most soothing sound in the world. You cleared your throat before attempting to put together a sentence in response.

"Hey… I'm… I'm, uh, in a gross bathroom at, um… fuck, what was the name of this place…" you trailed off, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. You rubbed your forehead, trying to think despite how hard it was to do.

Leon was silent for a bit on the other end before speaking up.

"___? Are you okay? It's… really late."

You chuckled, a burp coming out alongside the sound. "I know, right? What the fuck am I even doing here?"

"___, listen to me. Are you alright? Why did you call?" Leon asked. You could just faintly hear shuffling on the other end, and the unmistakable sound of keys jingling, as if he was already gathering his things before you even told him the location. Your heart fluttered at that and even more warmth was sent to your cheeks.

"No. No, I'm not alright. I feel really fucking sick right now and I don't know where my friends are and I fucking hate being here and-"

"Slow down, sweetheart," Leon said. If the alcohol didn't kill you, the pet name that Leon apparently still liked using for you would.

Leon fell quiet on the line, almost as if suddenly realizing the word that had slipped from his mouth.

"Sorry, I mean– look, tell me where you are. Do you want me to come and get you?"

There was a voice in your head screaming at you to just say no. Your friends were a text message away. If they saw the state you were in they'd take you home in a heartbeat. You knew the right thing to do was apologize to Leon, hang up, and get your ass out of the bathroom stall to find your group. But the alcohol was clouding your judgment, and the rational part of you simply didn't exist right now. Going back to Leon's apartment was like reopening a wound that had just healed. But you couldn't deny how much you needed him in this moment, no matter how pathetic it sounded. He had been on your mind the entire time you were at the club, and hell, even if you had been sober you probably would have ended up back at his place anyway. Because you simply didn't know how to stay away from things that you walked away from.

"Yes. Please come and get me." You replied softly, your words shaky with sorrow and guilt, your voice cracking.

"On my way. Stay put, okay?"

____

"___?"

Your eyes opened slowly. The side of your mouth felt wet with drool. Your brows furrowed as you took in your surroundings.

"___, are you in here?"

Your eyes widened a bit more upon registering whose voice was calling for you. You immediately sat up, trying to adjust your hair and straighten your shirt – before quickly giving up, because you knew no amount of adjusting would make you look like less of a hot mess.

"In here," you called out, not bothering to get up and open the door as your legs felt like they didn't work and any small movement would've caused you to expel your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

You saw two feet stop right in front of the door. You recognized those boots anywhere. They were your favorite pair.

"Are you… decent? Can I open the door?" Leon asked. You nodded, before quickly realizing he can't hear the movement of your head.

"Yeah," you replied weakly. Leon did just that, opening the stall door slowly.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you up right then and there. You knew you looked terrible, disgusting even. Your ex, on the other hand, still looked as gorgeous as ever, with his dirty blonde hair slightly longer than the last time you saw it and prettily falling into his deep blue eyes. He was wearing a form fitting black shirt that left nothing to the imagination with a pair of blue jeans and his expensive brown coat.

You averted your gaze out of pure embarrassment. Leon had never seen you in this state and you wish he hadn't. You wished you could turn back time and call your friends instead of him.

Leon kneeled in front of you in the cramped space, gently lifting your chin and making you look him in the eyes. The action only made you feel smaller.

"Hey, let me see you," he started, his gaze softening as he observed you.

"What happened? Nobody-" his jaw clenched. "Nobody did anything to you, right?"

You shook your head. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak.

"Okay, good. You just drank too much?"

You nodded that time.

Leon seemed physically relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood back up. He held out his hand.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You muttered out something that sounded like a "yes," taking his hand and slowly rising off the toilet seat. You almost toppled over, but Leon was there to steady you.

"Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed, but he was already moving your arm for you. You gladly took ahold of his shoulder as his hand held your wrist; his other arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly. The two of you walked out of the bathroom together, ignoring the stares from other club goers.

The both of you made outside, and the cool air was a pleasant sensation to your extremely warm body. Leon helped you into your car, handling you like you were made of glass, before getting into the driver's side himself. He buckled you up first, leaning over you to pull the strap across your chest. His breath was fanning across your face, and you felt your heart rate skyrocket. You gazed at him with tired eyes, and he returned the eye contact briefly, his eyes mostly unreadable, but definitely filled with concern no less.

Once he was buckled up himself, he took off, and you just closed your eyes, hoping and praying that the motion of the car wouldn't cause any sudden hurling.

The car ride was mostly silent; aside from the radio that Leon had turned up slightly, playing some rock song, you were far too exhausted to say anything. You didn't even know what to say, anyway, and it seemed like Leon didn't either.

Eventually, when he stopped at a light, he spoke for the first time in several long minutes. "Your friends – did they abandon you?"

You shook your head. "No… I was the one who split from them. Told them I wanted to be alone."

"But they didn't even check on you?"

You glanced at him and noticed his tense jaw had returned, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"They're all probably shit-faced, too." You replied dryly.

Leon sighed. "I… sure, I guess. Then that brings me to my next question… Why did you go over your limit? You could've put yourself in danger."

You shrugged, gazing out the window.

"I really don't know," you lied.

"God, ___, don't do something like this again. Please." Leon replied.

"I'm… sorry." You said. What you were apologizing for exactly, you weren't sure. For worrying him? For making him come all the way out here to save you like a damsel in distress? The more you thought about it, the more you leaned toward all of the above.

Leon seemed to relax again upon hearing your soft-spoken apology. "There's no need for that, I just…" a sigh. "You should rest. We're almost home."

Home.

You let your eyes slowly drift closed again. The last thing you saw was the sight of Leon driving with one hand, still wearing that unreadable expression.

____

Leon was quick to help you out the car after finding a parking spot. He guided you up the steps to the second floor of the complex, walking to his door. You leaned against him while he fiddled with his keys.

He eventually got the door open, helping you walk through the door. As he walked you through his living room to the bathroom, rather slowly as your feet were slightly dragging across the floor, you took in the familiar space around you. Leon's apartment was, of course, just how you remembered it. He had few decorations, most of them put up by you. His raggedy, but deceptively comfortable couch was somehow still standing strong. His place looked well lived-in; not terribly disorganized, just slightly cluttered. Given the nature of his career and how often he was away, he was never home long enough to let huge messes pile up anyway. You felt a smile tug at your lips as memories crawled back into your mind.

You remembered shopping with Leon for his decorations shortly after you moved in. He pretended to be indifferent, but you'll never forget the grin on his face as he helped you hang up some abstract paintings with poorly hidden amusement. That very couch was often where you spent your time resting your head on Leon's shoulders, or sometimes his head on your lap. The kitchen was where you and Leon made huge messes together, doing more kissing than cooking.

But your smile slightly faded as memories of the tail end of your relationship tainted your mind. Waiting alone for Leon to return home for a mission, worrying yourself sick. Sometimes Leon was distant, going from attentive and caring to cold and unresponsive in a heartbeat. You knew his trauma made it difficult for him to be fully present in the relationship – but sometimes you acted harshly anyway, both out of frustration and out of concern. His career was eating away at you, too.

The sound of running water pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly registered that Leon had sat you down on his toilet. After wetting a washcloth, he leaned down in front of you again.

"I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" He said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Leon wiped your face with the washcloth ever so gently, dabbing away dried drool and removing the light sweat that had formed across your forehead. He even went as far as to brush your teeth for you, thoroughly reaching every inch of your mouth to the best of his ability. Somehow, even during this, you found yourself dozing off a few times.

"You don't have to wash up now if you're too tired." Leon said once he had finished a portion of your nighttime routine for you. He stood in front of you while you were still seated, waiting for your next move.

You wanted nothing more than to wish the stink of the nightclub off your skin, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Take me to bed, Leon." You muttered, wrapping your hands around his waist and leaning against his torso.

Leon found himself grinning at how much of a koala you became when sleepy and drunk. With one hand, he played with your hair for a bit as you continued holding him. You sighed contently as you felt yourself slip away in the sensation. Leon looked down at you, feeling something tug at his heart strings at how vulnerable you looked like this. The warmth from your arms around his waist brought Leon to a painful realization – that he missed your touch more than he thought.

Leon tried to store that thought away. You'd be gone by the morning, right? He couldn't allow himself to open up to you after all this time. You had made the choice to walk away and as far as he knew, you hadn't changed your mind.

He gently tapped your arms, causing you to stir a bit.

"If you want me to take you to bed, you have to get up first." He said teasingly. You groaned, but reluctantly did what he asked. Even while standing, your eyes were barely open.

"Do you wanna change?” He asked.

“Into what?” You said sleepily, words slurring together.

“I can give you one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. I don't mind.”

You just nodded, leaning into Leon's side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Leon walked you to his bedroom, grabbing some clothes for you as you stood there patiently, your eyes half open. He gave you an old shirt of his and some gray sweatpants.

You began stepping out of your gross nightclub clothes right in front of Leon, who didn't seem to mind – he helped keep you from stumbling as you got dressed.

“This is so much better.” You said, feeling free and unconstrained now that you were out of those awful leather pants. Leon found himself holding back a grin at the way you were happily rubbing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Let's get you to bed.” He spoke.

He assisted you in getting cozy under the large comforter, even going as far as to tuck you in.

Leon's scent washed over you as you sunk into the softness of his mattress. You almost instantly succumbed to slumber, subconsciously burying your head into Leon's pillow.

For a long time, Leon just stared.

You were safe now, finally out of that awful nightclub and resting comfortably. He felt the tension leave his body, and he could finally go about his nightly routine at ease knowing you were taken care of.

Seeing you in his bed like this reminded him of the nights he came home late. Those nights, he'd crawl into bed next to you, holding you close as if you'd disappear into thin air. Strangely, despite the fact that he was looking directly at you, this was another moment where he felt like you'd cease to exist if he so much as looked away.

But he eventually forced himself to look away, sighing to himself as he went back to the bathroom to freshen up himself. He decided to sleep on the couch, falling asleep with you in his mind and still feeling the phantom touch of your arms around his waist.

____

Upon slowly opening your eyes, squinting slightly at the sunlight filtering through the room, it didn't take you long to notice the splitting headache that pulsated uncomfortably right behind your eyes. You also took note of the fact that you were clad in Leon's clothing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your face bunching up in pain at your awful hangover. You were mentally chastising yourself, as you knew that this terrible headache could've been easily avoided had you not gone past your limit the night before. It was at the moment, as you were lying on your back and staring at the familiar sight of Leon's apartment ceiling, that all of the memories from last night came rushing back to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You barely remember anything from last night, but you knew that when you were shit-faced you turned into a giant child, and you were already feeling apologetic for putting Leon through your drunken antics. You didn't even want to get out of bed and face the man.

So, you did just that; you lied there for a few extra minutes, absolutely dreading the moment when you would have to get up eventually. You sighed, rolling over on your side, facing the closed bedroom door. It was then that you noticed the tall glass of water and bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

You sat up slowly, feeling your heart warm at Leon's thoughtfulness. You took one pill from the bottle, swallowing it down in one large gulp of water.

You also noticed your phone on the table. Curiously, you checked to see if your phone was even alive – which it was, much to your surprise, but the battery was low. You saw numerous text messages from your acquaintances last night. Some of them were just talking about how much fun they had and thanking you for coming out. Others seem concerned about where you had gone. You didn't feel like replying to any of them, so you promptly shut your phone off. You needed to save your battery, anyway, as you didn't have a charger. You left your phone in its place on the table.

You sat in Leon's bed for a little longer after that, sighing to yourself, before getting up to go find where he was.

You didn't have to look very far after opening the door; there Leon stood in the kitchen, occupied with making breakfast. It seemed like he didn't notice your presence at first, so you took that opportunity to gaze at him, grinning softly at the concentrated look on his face as he flipped over a pancake, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked cuter than ever, clad in his well-loved plaid pajama pants and a loose black shirt. It felt strange, seeing him like this again after so many months.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Leon suddenly spoke, still turned away from you. You were slightly startled, quickly averting your gaze.

“Morning,” you said softly. “Did you know I was standing here the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Leon replied, finally turning to you with a pretty smile on his face, one that you couldn't help but immediately return. “Government training helped me with my awareness, y'know.”

You chuckled at that, making your way over to the dining table and taking a seat. Resting your chin in your hand, you watched Leon lovingly, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Need a hand with anything?” you asked.

“Nah, it's alright. I'm almost done, anyway.” Leon replied. “By the way, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. I forgot how comfortable your bed was.” you said.

Leon grinned. “That's good. And your head?”

“It's feeling better. Thanks for the medicine, by the way.”

“Of course.” Leon replied.

Eventually, he carried to the table two plates of food, along with two tall glasses of orange juice. It was a simple breakfast, consisting of just pancakes, but it was totally fine by you. They looked fluffy and perfectly cooked and you didn't hesitate to dive in.

Leon just watched you eat in silence, a small grin on his face as he watched you do a little happy dance upon taking a bite. He wasn't really showing it, but he was very pleased with himself; not just because he made you a decent plate of pancakes but because you were here with him, out of that grimy nightclub, content and being taken care of. Leon felt a tug at his heartstrings as he realized just how much he missed taking care of you.

“Leon. Are you gonna eat?” you said with a chuckle, nearly done with your food. Leon seemed to snap out of whatever trance you had put him in, quickly glancing at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a slightly bashful way that made you swoon. He finally had begun eating, thoughtfully chewing, taking his time.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling completely satiated. For a while, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence. It dawned on you that eventually you'd have to leave, sadness beginning to wash over you like waves.

“What's the matter?” Leon suddenly spoke. “Be honest, were the pancakes actually terrible?” He said jokingly. That got you smiling again, and you let out a small, half-hearted laugh.

“Leon, they were fucking amazing,” you replied sincerely. You smiled then faltered a bit. “I just… I still feel bad.”

Leon, who was also sitting lax in his chair, had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he gazed warmly at you.

“About?” He inquired.

You sighed, looking down at your lap. Suddenly eye contact was too much right now.

“For last night. I know I've already apologized but… seriously, I'm really sorry for making you drive all the way out there. And for worrying you.”

Leon shook his head, looking at you with an expression that could only be read as sympathetic.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again – you don't have to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm glad you called me. It meant that you trusted me to ensure your safety; and that made me feel good.”

You felt your heart warm at that. You continued to stare down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs, still hesitant to let him into your gaze.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Leon said ever so softly. The gentle, almost desperate tone of voice was enough to get you to finally raise your head and meet his eyes.

“There you are,” he said fondly. “I want you to know that you can always call me. For anything. And if you need me, I'll be there. We're not… together anymore but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna step out of your life, okay? I still care about you. Always will.”

You were effectively silenced, so deeply touched by Leon's words that you couldn't even produce any of your own. Suddenly your vision began to blur and your bottom lip was quivering.

Your friends – really, just your co-workers – who had practically forgotten about you at that club? They probably didn't care about you all like they claimed to. But if there was one person that would always stand up for you, help you, tend to your needs – it was Leon. It had always been him.

With a shaky voice, you responded, “Thank you, Leon. I… still care about you, too. So much. I totally owe you after last night.” you said with a playful smile, although you were honestly very serious.

“No, it's okay. You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what a good friend is supposed to do.”

Friend.

You brushed the word off, ignoring the pang of disappointment that hit you. You simply smiled at him.

Clearing your throat, you started another topic. “So, um… I guess since I'm here, we should catch up a bit. It's been so long since I've last spoken to you.”

Leon shrugged. “Honestly? I don't have much to catch you up on. I've just been doing what I always do, lounging around, working, occasionally going out with Claire and Chris. You know me, I'm a boring guy.”

“You are not at all boring, Kennedy,” you said teasingly.

“You know, it's okay to admit it.” He replied, and you could only shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

“You're literally a government agent. That's the opposite of boring.”

“Well, what a lot of people don't know is that being a government agent also comes with a shit-ton of paperwork.”

“I suppose,” you said with a completely playful roll of your eyes. “Anyway, Claire and her brother doing well?”

“They're doing great. They're always asking about you.”

You felt guilt begin to rear its ugly head at Leon's comment. “I haven't spoken to them in a while too… God, I'm terrible.” You said.

“Hey, don't make it a huge deal. They know how busy you are. They still care about you too. You could go a thousand years without speaking to them and they'd still be excited to hear from you.”

“That's nice to know.” You replied. You made it a mental note to get in contact with them soon.

The dining table fell quiet again. There was this undeniable tension in the air, one that the two of you couldn't shake. As much as you hated to admit it, you had missed sitting at Leon's dining table, sitting across from him specifically, sharing peaceful mornings together. You knew that eventually you'd have to leave; you'd part ways with Leon once more. You wish you could say that'd be easy to do.

Leon pulled you out of the recesses of your mind when he suddenly stood up, grabbing the two plates and cups. You silently watched as he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Without even thinking, you stood up as well, joining him in the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” you said, not even giving him the choice.

Leon shook his head, like you knew he would. “It's alright, I got it. I know you've probably got things to do, so I understand if you need to go-”

“Things to do? Like what?” You interrupted with a playful grin. “I want to help, Leon, please.”

“It's only a few dishes.”

“I know– look, stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please.” You said, taking a plate out of his hand and grabbing a washcloth to help with drying. Leon just chuckled, having paused his washing for a bit to admire you.

“You haven't changed.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you put the plate back in its respective cabinet. You didn't even need to ask where it went – it was muscle memory for you.

“I mean… always wanting to help with stuff. It's what I've always liked about you.” Leon replied, handing you a newly washed cup. You took it, slowly, still processing his words. You felt a certain warmth throughout your body, trying to distract yourself from the feeling by rather furiously drying the glass.

“That's just how I am. Can't help it.” You replied shyly, your voice coming out small.

“I know. You should consider being an agent since you like helping so much.” Leon teased. You were putting the glass up when he had said that and weren't looking directly at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made you smile.

“Absolutely not.” You replied immediately, to which the both of you broke out into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen.

The two of you finished doing the dishes fairly quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. It all felt too familiar. The both of you fell into your usual banter so easily, and it was almost like you two hadn't just spent months apart.

You ended up helping Leon clean his entire kitchen after the dishes, chatting with him every second and moving around each other with the sort of ease you can only get when you've spent enough time in one place to memorize everything. You told Leon that you didn't mind helping him knock out a few chores, which was true; you knew how busy he was and how he was usually too tired to take care of things like this himself. But deep down, the true reason why you were still here was because you just didn't want to leave. But you kept that part buried within you. It was difficult coming to terms with what that meant and you didn't want to think about it.

“Does anything else need tidying?” You asked him once you finished wiping the kitchen counter. Leon looked around, seemingly thinking for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, it's all good. But I appreciate it.”

Your grin faltered a bit. You knew you had to go. You had been here for hours now.

“Ah, okay,” you said, trying to hide the dejection in your voice. “Well, um… I guess I should get out of your hair then.”

Leon perked up at that. “You don't have to leave.” He said quickly. He then cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean, uh– if you don't want to, you can stay as long as you want.”

You wanted to more than anything else. But the right thing would be to leave, even though that went against your heart's desires. Who knows what you'd end up saying– or doing– if you stayed. Whatever it'd be, you'd probably regret it.

“I should really go.” You said quietly. Leon just silently nodded. His expression was unreadable yet again.

After making sure you had all your belongings, and unfortunately having to change back into your cursed club outfit for the time being, you now stood in front of the door. Leon had changed out of his pajamas too, looking as handsome as ever in a simple pair of jeans, a black shirt, and boots.

Since your friends had driven you to the club, and Leon drove you to his place, he'd have to drive you back. You were waiting for him after he had said he had to find his keys. You took one long, final glance around his house as you stood there with a heavy heart.

Quite a bit of time had passed, though, and you were about to call out to Leon, as you noticed he seemed to be taking longer than you expected. You figured he just needed help searching for his keys, so you jogged over to his bedroom, where you saw him enter.

When you walked in, he was kneeling in front of a cardboard box. His closet door was open, so you presumed that's where the box came from. Your brows pinched together in confusion.

“Leon? I can help with finding your keys-”

“Oh, I have my keys. I just, um… suddenly remembered something.” He said, a bit cryptically.

You were still visibly puzzled. “Remembered what?” you asked, walking a bit closer to see the contents of the box. And then you realized.

In the box was some jewelry of yours, one of your shirts, and a bottle of perfume that you had forgotten at his home ages ago.

Your heart warmed at the fact that Leon kept them safe and tucked away in his closet, almost as if he was waiting for the day to return them to you.

“I completely forgot about these,” he said, standing up to face you. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I've been meaning to give these back.”

You just smiled, feeling so incredibly touched and endeared.

“It's okay, Leon. I didn't even realize I was missing these items.” You said with a chuckle. You kneeled down yourself, sifting through the contents of the box and reminiscing. The perfume especially reminded you of so many date nights and all the times Leon told you how nice you smelled.

“You know, that reminds me,” You began, feeling the cotton of your old, worn t-shirt that lay perfectly folded in the box. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts. The old RPD one.”

You knew you did. It was still in your closet, hidden away. Not forgotten, just out of sight.

“You can keep it.” Leon said. “You looked better in it anyway.”

You felt that familiar heat rush to your face again. Even after all this time, his words still affected you.

“Well, um… thanks.” You replied.

“It's nothing.”

You stood up, holding the box, and the two of you walked back to the door. Every step felt heavier than the last.

You watched as Leon was about to open the door for you. But in that moment, as he was about to turn the knob, something within you snapped.

“Wait.” You said.

Leon paused, turning to look at you. “Did– did you forget something?” He asked.

You shook your head. You slowly put the box down on the floor, gently kicking it aside.

“I don't wanna leave, Leon.”

Leon still seemed perplexed. “I told you, you can stay as long as you-”

“No, I mean… I'm not leaving… again.”

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Leon. He was silent for a bit, unsure of how to proceed, or what to say.

“I need you to be more clear.” He said simply.

You stepped closer to him. You nearly reached your hand out, wanting to gently stroke his hair like you always used to do, but you weren't sure if he was ready to jump back into physical affection like that. You restrained yourself.

“I want to try again, Leon. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. At the time, I didn't understand your trauma – I failed to accommodate you. When I left… I realized how shitty I had been. How much I had missed you. I dated other people and none of them gave me what you did. You were too good to me and I was too selfish. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I've grown. I will try my best to meet you where you are from now on if you just let me back in.”

You said all of this while staring directly into Leon's captivating eyes, sincerity in your tone and in the way you gazed at him. You hoped Leon could feel your guilt. Your remorse.

Leon just stared back, stunned into silence. You could tell his mind was racing, searching for what to say, processing everything you had told him. You were prepared for him to say no. You were bracing for the heartbreak. You wouldn't be upset, no. You'd be understanding. You were ready to leave for good if that's what he wanted.

But heartbreak isn't what you got.

“Thank you. For apologizing.” Leon said. “I should, too. I wasn't being totally honest about my line of work. And dating a government agent isn't necessarily an easy thing to handle. It was probably traumatic for you, too, seeing me come home so damaged, physically and mentally.

“And for the record, I don't think you were being selfish. You wanted to help, I know you did, you just didn't know how and it was frustrating.”

You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, your emotions nearly meeting their boiling point, tears threatening to spill. Deep down, you didn't think Leon had anything to apologize for, considering everything he's been through and seen, but you were appreciative of his apology nonetheless. It warmed your heart to know that he never resented you when you were together, like you always thought he did.

“So… should we try this again?” you said, a playful glint in your watery eyes.

Leon grinned. “We should.”

At that, you couldn't hold back any longer. You went in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck snugly. He wasted no time in wrapping his around your waist. Being back in his arms again felt like a dream.

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You felt Leon relax even more at the soft touch.

With your lips close to his ear, you whispered:

“I never stopped loving you.”

Leon pulled away a bit, his hands just lightly resting on your waist.

“Neither did I.”

A pause. You felt his breath fan across your face.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, already grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Please.” Was all Leon said before you leaned in, your lips finding purchase on top of his, bodies pressed close together.

You had a hunch that making yourself at home again wouldn't be difficult at all.

[clitorphosis]

TOMB FOR TWO

Rockstar Leon S. Kennedy x model reader | AO3 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, drugs and alcohol addiction implied, Leon is scumbag i guess, blowjob, use of coke, deepthroat i guess, dirty talk. tags: @ivmp words: 2,934

notes: so.... dont do drugs/alcohol and idk i feel like i need to clarify, some stuff here i heard in real life directly from insufferable men, so don't interract with such kind of people for ur own good.

Leon loves ladies, he was always the kind of man who loved every woman, if she was attractive enough to his taste of course. Also, he considered himself a nice guy, but a lot of girls didn’t get him. It got a lot worse when he cheated on his ex-girlfriend, after that nasty breakup and a slap he received, it felt like she had put a curse on him. Maybe he is cursed, it would explain why his attempts to form established relationships always failed. At least the passion for music was always with him, no matter how hard it was for him and it has helped indeed him in many areas; gaining more ego and becoming finally a rockstar, which certainly has helped him find lovers to warm his bed.

In his mind, he has already created his own list of preferences, models were always a big ‘no’ cause pretty dolls in the majority were the most annoying ones in his honest and ‘humble’ opinion. A lot of them are anorectic, and Leon doesn’t need a girl whose only hard thing in her mouth would have been his dick. Also, pretty women are usually really intimidating and have high standards, he doesn’t want to risk a possible denial. Cool guys don’t get hurt.

But that list didn’t help him at all, it didn’t prevent him from getting involved with you so quickly. A model and you looked sick for his tastes, dark circles under your eyes and lack of any vivid light in them too. He put two and two together, probably you did often drugs and he didn’t know which ones, he never asked. Your first appearance was at one of the events where his band performed and you were bored to death, gaze leaped around the surroundings, trying to find something more interesting to linger on than whatever this place is. Your pupils were dilated as hell and your jaw was tensed, making those useless movements and biting inside of your cheeks. He didn’t give much thought and he was drunk already while your fingertips were tracing his jaw and a sparkle in your eyes was enough for him. And after all, you agreed to come with him. His expectations weren’t high, another quick one-night stand he would forget about, but after stepping into his apartment you got sick. Vomiting in his toilet until it became quiet and he decided to check, after all, he is a good guy, really. And he doesn’t need a corpse in his flat. Pulling your hair to tilt your face towards him and witness your exhausted expression; your lips parted with saliva glistening on them and circles under your half-lidded eyes got more evident and darker. All this combined led to him having the hardest boner he has ever had.

Your presence in his life only gave him a boner and a headache, also an urge to strangle and shake you like a doll, but he never had enough strength to leave you behind and forget everything related to you. He tried, his mind would fill with thoughts about you, leading to jerk off a lot when he is sober and not recording music. His drunk ass would always crawl back to you, after feeling your eyes on him everywhere even when he was smoking out of a bar. Those billboards with your face, promoting some products and looking ethereal, without sickness all over your face, feeling your gaze as if it was only directed towards him. Those photos were the reasons his legs always lead him to your place, finding you already hammered as much as he is, if not worse, more than happy to let him spill his load in your mouth or pussy. After all, Leon is a simple man, not a romantic one, romanticism has died within him after that ‘undeserved’ slap.

Needles were a big ‘no’ for you, explaining they can leave marks and they are scary, also those are used by drug-addicted people which you believed you aren’t. After all, you like them thanks to your dear and generous friend who shares them with you. While Leon was an old-fashioned man, he has always preferred booze, even after finding himself in weird situations without any memories, only with pain pulsing in his head and hangover. You didn’t understand that at all, it has never brought you any good sensations, also alcohol has a distinct smell you have always hated and there is nothing sexy about it. That’s why Leon was always simple in your eyes, a rockstar with little to no existent layers in his personality; one hand with the bottle and the other one on his dick. In the end, both can destroy many lives.

Of course, whatever you both had going on gave you the possibility to visit his concerts without spending a penny. Leon has never asked if you like his music though, but still, he believes it is good, after all, there wouldn’t be a big female fanbase over anything? So there was never a thought behind his eyes to consider your tastes. Besides, you didn’t attend often, always brushing off your runway shows to which he was never invited. Not like he needed to be there, but still it made him feel a little bit bitter. Other reasons were similar to ‘I don’t want to’ and if to be honest, this isn’t a valid reason for his calls to be ignored.

This time you didn’t have other options, nor Leon would let you skip his performance. Soon understanding it was a mistake, you shouldn’t be here, cause during the entire concert his attention was drifting in between his music and you, trying to find you among many women. Every time he notices you not listening to the sound the instruments create, it fills him with bitterness and annoyance. Time passed slowly, finally finishing performance and emptying his flask quickly. He was tempted to leave you alone, to not give any warning, and get another girl from the crowd, but also this would be risky for a lot of reasons; first, he doesn’t have any condoms, and second, groupies are annoying and he doesn’t want to deal with them for a quick fuck today. The only solution he came across was to leave this place earlier and push you into his car.

The ride is okay, the only noise is some music coming from the car stereo. He twitched a little bit with the switch before, but he didn’t really listen to whatever was on until he recognized his own song. A nice touch. “Your music sucks” you say, breaking the silence which was only filled with his voice coming from the radio. This is new for you, music is his job, and what does a model know about it? His face turns to look at you for a brief moment, he is driving and he doesn’t want to get himself killed cause of you. “It doesn’t.” Leon protests quickly, but your voice interrupts him again, making him groan and want to stop the car. To strangle you. People love him! His groupies would be green with envy if they ever got to know about you. “It does” you say, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking through the window before rolling it down and letting fresh air coming in. The wind noise is ear beating, enough to give him a headache, nor does it help with his mood right now. Bashing noise to his ears, but you don’t care. Your voice fills the room, too bad it is loud enough to catch on and it is not mixed with the sound of the wind. The road is dark, and it is already hard to drive after consuming alcohol, but your voice makes this worse. “Your music never changes, mundane, same melody. Boring even, and generic. I don’t like it”

Then you stay silent, Leon’s mind is buzzing with only two thoughts in it: what a bitch you are, how he wants to shut you up with his dick and he needs to calm down, to let off steam. That’s three or four though. Math wasn’t his forte.

He pulled over his car, almost stumbling over from it as the chilly night breeze hit his face, filling his lungs. Refreshing and sobering in some way. It is dark, he didn’t even notice how he moved to your side and opened the door, looking down at your face with a blank stare, while his slow mind keeps processing your words. You shift on the seat of the car to face him with a raised eyebrow, looking so annoyed and confused by his attitude. Leon isn’t sure why he was hurt by your words, but this look was not new for him; every time a sentence would leave his mouth, your face would express an annoyance as if he just said the dumbest thing possible. You are probably just trying to mess with him and this always made him hornier, his cock would start stiffening in his jeans and even this isn’t an exception, like one of Pavlov’s dogs he is. Or this is just alcohol talking.

The inside of the car enlightens your features and it is maybe the only thing so bright in such a dark spot right now of the road. His index finger brushes over your lower lip, tracing the contour of soft flesh beneath his thickened skin after years of playing guitar. He can’t help but stare at your mouth, admiring the lipstick on it, looking clean and emphasizing the shape of your lips. Too bad his digit smeared the color a little bit over the form. You don’t notice that thank God, cause he doesn’t need another comment from you. Silence makes you much prettier. Your hand reaches for his thigh, brushing over the inner part and the annoyance in your gaze quickly changes to interest as it slowly travels down to the bulge which started to form already. Leon doesn’t know what magic you use on him, cause it is much easier to get even half-hard dick with you, while the majority of girls would waste his time and then cry about not being able to turn him on. He blamed this trouble on them, not on his best friend (booze). To not waste much time, you tuck out his cock from his pants.

Your fingers envelop his half-hard length, before stroking, spitting a mouthful of your saliva down on it. Spreading over the hardened skin with a quick and easy motion of your hand, your touch lingers on the spot below its tip which makes him groan lowly. His fingers tangle in your strands, pulling your face closer to his cock as a silent plea to sink your mouth down around him.

“Don’t play, come on,” Leon says, not noticing how his voice got hoarse. “Give it a kiss, doll” In the past, you would be annoyed at his words, but tonight you don’t mind, enjoying how pretty he is when he wants to shove his dick down your throat. Your lips press against his tip and kiss around it, teasing him and licking away precum, finally bobbing your head down. The warm and wet heat of your mouth envelops his cock, your tongue flicks along the shaft. Leon can feel himself getting harder and his hips buck back in response, letting quiet groans. But the bliss didn’t last a lot, you pop out his cock and slap it against your tongue, rubbing against your lips while keeping eye contact with his eyes. The sight is dirty, lipstick leaves its color on his wet and throbbing dick, intensifying the moment.

Until he noticed there was something under your silver sequin top, that caught his gaze only now. But also he doesn’t know what it may be, wondering silently and fixating on your chest. Or he is just seeing things, until your hand slightly lowers the edge of fabric to take the bag with white powder, satisfying his curiosity. The timing made him frown, almost convincing himself you could read his mind. But also, what should he have expected? Boobs would be nice, actually.

He isn’t going to deny a pleasure to see them. That’s why his hands reach for the edge of the fabric, pulling down to expose your breasts, nipples get harder at the contact with the cold air of the night. His fingers knead soft flesh, thumb and index pinch nipples to evoke your moans out, observing your face change even for a brief moment because of him until you slap away his hands. It was nice while it lasted. He watches how you make a thin white line on his cock, almost dripping some on your skirt, and letting a curse fall from your lips. If to be honest, this is his first time seeing you doing drugs in front of him. Also, there are too many ways to consume Coke, he heard about how some women shove it in their vagina, but he isn’t sure if this is true. You lean down and snort it away with an ‘ah’ leaving your lips, while rubbing your nose and blinking messily, trying to shake off some tears forming on your waterline. He was tempted to try, but you don’t share.

“Fuck, that was hot” Leon comments, letting a low whistle. Your hand pumps his cock in a steady rhythm.

The little pause was over, with a giggle and lightened expression on your face, coke does wonders. Your mouth starts giving kisses, before sucking on the tip more eagerly than before, and your tongue swirls in a circular motion around it. For a brief moment, you shift to the underside too by flicking over that sensitive spot, making his hips buck, pushing your head deeper to sink you down along the length. You can feel more saliva pooling in your mouth, slobbering over his cock now, and spit drips down onto his balls. The Coke has its visible influence now, dilated pupils are directed into his blue eyes, keeping eye contact. He knows that state of yours, being happy and confident to do anything, clinging and not letting him go away until powder’s effects don’t start to weaken. Your heart is beating loudly in your ears, not hearing those loud suction noises your mouth does which he adores. Leon’s fingers tighten his grip on your hair, tugging and pushing your head deeper, his tip kissing your throat and he groans, while your nose rubs against his happy trail. Your jaw is more relaxed, taking him deeply and you try to swallow the excess of saliva and his precum, so your throat tightens around his cock, he can feel you choking on his now twitching arousal. It is useless, you can feel saliva dripping not only on his sac now, but also from the corners of your mouth down to your collarbone. Leon pulls your head away before slamming with quick motion his hips against your face again. His cock is slick with your saliva, sloppily moving out and back into your mouth, constant stimulation of your tongue flicking against his head and at the base made his balls tighten signaling that his orgasm is approaching. Initially, his own moans are breathless, slowly starting to increase in volume, as he took more control in his own hands. His movements are erratic, the sight of your teary expensive mascara and lipstick ruined by him and leaving marks on his cock is one of many reasons to be alive, he thinks.

“Do you see yourself right now, huh?” He moans, shaking his head with disbelief, as you keep sucking him off sloppily, making more wet sounds that intensify and fill the air between you both. His voice is at the edge of quiet whine, needy moans reach your ears. “Yeah, that’s it, all you have to do is let my cock just slide in and out of your pretty mouth, doll”

He slams his hips for the last time burying his cock deep into your throat, the head grinds before twitching for a last time spurting out a load of cum. His fingers grip tighter, almost painfully, not letting you pull away and spit it out, swallowing the bitterness that fills your senses, making you gag more. The booze diet isn’t the best one. He lets you pull away, your tongue for the last time brushed his tip and he stands still, his breathing is unsteady and chaotic, while you wipe away the remaining saliva from your skin.

“So….” Leon interrupts the silence between them, he is speaking without giving too much thought, and he quickly pauses for a second, trying to organize a decent sentence. “What about… something formal? Between us I mean” Your eyes don’t even linger on his face after his question, the so-known-annoyance returns to your face and you pull down the sun visor to fix your makeup. “Ew, no” your voice expresses disgust at the thought of being more than just a quick hookup, you roll your eyes as your thumb cleans the smear of your lipstick. Your nose twitches still, even if the effect of the drug starts to lessen. “I don’t like you like that” “It was a joke,” he brushes off quickly, feeling his own body recovering from orgasm and wanting to get away from you, so the bitterness and disappointment would not irk him so much. “For God’s sake, smile at least.”

Story of his life, nothing new.

[azullumi]

“wine pon you” ; genshin men

summary — you play a little prank on him.

includes — various characters (w/gender-neutral reader) ; used ‘pretty’ to describe the reader once

tags — fluff, established relationship, not proof-read, all word vomit, a little bit suggestive ; scenarios

words — 1311

note — i am losing my mind school starts next week already

“stop,” you tell him, avoiding him as your lover dives in for a kiss, however, he doesn’t listen but rather, he goes in for another one. perhaps he thought he was going to be successful this time but confusion contorts his expression into one when you swerve and evade his approach. 

“i have a boyfriend, remember?” you say to him whilst holding yourself back from laughing, before he realizes the act you were putting up. “so you can’t do that.” you added, grinning at him as your eyes sparkled in mischief.

he answered, smiling, “i’ll fight your boyfriend.” despite the nature of his words, there was no hint of malice in it, just playfulness lacing it.

“he’ll beat your ass.” you retort, a smug smile on your face and god, how much he loves you that he’s willing to play along with your antics. he adores seeing that amused expression on your face, the grin that you show him when you get the reaction you want, everything about you, there’s no inch of you that he doesn’t adore.

“oh, really?” he notes, voice low as his eyes gleamed with a dangerous light in it as he was getting more and more closer to you while you have nowhere to go.

“…don’t look at me like that.”

he hums, “like what? hm?” he didn’t even let you utter out a word of response before he  pressed his mouth against yours without any form of interruption. satisfaction and affection oozing on his lips as he finally achieved what he had been wanting and his kiss was hungry as if he had been waiting for too long to taste you.

he tangles his hand in your hair, pulling you much closer to him and the moment where he picked you up in his arms was too quick for you to even realize it, not until he gently placed you down the bed. needless to say, you weren’t going to play such stunts on him anymore, not when he’ll tease you so much in return.

childe, kaeya, itto, dottore, kaveh, wanderer/scaramouche

“what?” he asks, confusion exudes from his words as he with his eyebrows knitted. he wasn’t sure if he was hearing you correctly or if his ears were playing tricks on him but it seems to be the former when you answered.

“i have a boyfriend,” you repeated, in a serious tone, emphasizing each one of your words as you spoke as if your boyfriend wasn't literally hovering over you on the bed with his arms placed on each side of your head and trying to get a kiss from you. “so you can’t kiss me.”

silence ensues and the gears in his head start turning as he realizes, eyes rolling for a moment. he finds it ridiculous but it’s not like he hates it, only choosing to indulge in your happiness, “he’s probably not that good.” was his response, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face to the side. the action itself was gentle and you would have just given in and kissed him but you can’t, you weren’t satisfied yet.

you counter, trying to keep the same tone of seriousness as you tried to put on a stern look, “he is. he’s the best i could ever ask for, he makes me happy.”

it was the truth, really. he’ll probably never know of warmth that spreads across your chest whenever you’re with him, or maybe he does.

“oh yeah?” he looked amused, happy even after hearing your response but he still continued, “he probably stinks.” he jeered which earned a chuckle from you, breaking the facade that you were trying to put up.

“he really does.” you say without faltering, almost like you were sincere. he exclaimed, rather loudly and disbelief, “excuse me?” and you couldn’t hold in the laughter that you were trying to contain in your throat, seeing nothing but only bliss and contentment in each moment that you spent with him.

kaveh, childe, kaeya, venti, wanderer/scaramouche

“i’m your boyfriend.” he answered, mimicking your serious tone as he spoke while he kept a stoic look on his face. he was stating the obvious, telling the truth, but right now, you were planning on messing around with him for a bit. why? you just wanted to see how he would react.

you immediately turn down his answer, “no, you’re not.” and hearing this only caused him to be confused and probably question himself, or maybe your behavior. doubt obviously seeps into his expression as he stares at your pretty face.

“i am. are you perhaps drunk?” concern drips from his words when he asked you the question, his demeanor shifting from an addled one to worry. but how could you be drunk? he doesn’t smell any alcohol from you and he hasn't seen you drink anything that resembles it.

“you’re not and i am not drunk,” you grin at him, by now, it should be clicking in his mind, in just a second now— “is this one of your so-called pranks once again?” 

you took a second to answer, debating if you should tell him the truth or try to mess around with him more. “…maybe?” a hint of uncertainty was in your voice but also teasing in your tone as you dragged out the last syllable. he could only gaze at you with eyes full of warmth, “you’re so childish.”

“you love me though, right?” 

“so much so,” affection dribbled from his voice while he was caressing your cheek gently. god, he will seek you among the stars and whisper ‘i love you’ to the infinity of your soul, he’ll hold you forever that not even death could bring you two apart, that’s just how much he adores you.

and you would have kissed him at that moment if not for the words he uttered next, “but i’m not your boyfriend,” he chaff, which earned a groan from you.

zhongli, xiao, alhaitham, cyno, dainsleif, albedo, tighnari

“oh really? does he kiss you like this?” he doesn’t take a second or two to answer, already knowing the intentions behind your words. he just knows you so much.

in line with his response, he pressed a sweet kiss on your lips, a short one but enough to convey his message. he holds both of your hands that were pressing against his chest with his own, tangling his fingers in yours. 

he parts for a moment and muttered, “does he?” and even before you are given a chance to answer, he kisses you once again, this time much longer. the words you were about to say got lost in his tongue as he swipes it across your bottom lip in such a sensual manner.

it’s nice that he is willing to play along with you but archons, why does he have to be like this? getting back at you in such a cruel way—not like you hate it but god, you do. you hate how you love it.

he parts from your lips, breathing heavily and whispering, “does he get to see you like this?” 

in opposition to your hate, he loves seeing you like this: sweet and lovely on the tips of his fingertips, and he knows he has you right where he wants you to be whenever he sees you in such a state. “hm? why are you not saying anything anymore?”

“…you’re so unfair.” you could only muster yourself to say, a pout seen on your lips after you spoke and he laughed softly at your response. he was weak, weak for you and you could say that he was putty at your hands—even if it’s not so obvious. you could ask him for anything and everything and he’ll give it to you.

“it’s your fault, love.” 

diluc, ayato, kazuha, baizhu, pantalone, venti

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[woundedoves]

teacher al haitham & kaveh x bottom gn!student reader

tags: teacher student sex, semi public, car sex (kinda)

a/n: sorry for the sloppy format this is literally a word vomit bc i got so horny… erm!

MDNI!

your teacher Al haitham who’s just a little bit too touchy with you, a bit too attentive, his gaze lingers a bit too long than acceptable, who thinks about bending you over and rutting into you slowly while he makes you solve the exam questions a little too much.

he stops you as you reach the gates of your school, says that he forgot to give you your project back to get your irritating friends away so he can have you all to himself. you agree naively and tell your friends to not wait for you as you follow your teacher to his car; are you doing that on purpose? being so gullible, so blind to see how he looks at you?

he’s thankful that he was able to find such a secluded place, only one other car is parked a few slots away. you help him open the trunk of his car and look up at him with confusion; your voice gets caught in your throat as you let out a small gasp when he grasps the hem of your bottoms with one hand and bends you over with another. you flail your arms but its no use, those muscles aren’t for show it turns out.

“be good for me and I’ll make you feel good in return.” he breathes out as you hear his belt being undone, pants unzipping and jumping a bit when his erection hits your plush ass; making him hiss. you want to fight back, say you don’t want this, say that you’ll tell everyone what he did and yet you know that’s not what you want to do. it’s not a coincidence that you look the most ‘cute’ when your english teacher Al haitham has a lecture that day. no coincidence how you basically eye fuck the man while he’s writing something on the board that you don’t care about, you only want to feel those muscles flex and hear him groan while he fucks into you; you feel your ego shoot up as he murmurs about how cute your tight little hole looks just for him.

you whine pathetically as you wiggle your ass subtly as you can, which earns a hiss from him a throb from your own sex. you hide your face in your arms as his hands roam around and squeeze your hips; your voice comes out soft and muffled when you do speak. “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be a good student, sir.” you smirk when you feel his cock throb against your ass and shiver when you feel his finger that’s coated in his own spit slowly enter you. he quickly adds in a second finger as you feel your hole burn so good with the stretch; letting out the most whorish moan as his fingers leave your hole and you feel his tip enter.

you hear him groan as he finally bottoms out, letting out a whimper of your own as he immediately starts bouncing your ass on his cock. you feel your hole tighten with every thrust, his hips slamming into you so fucking harsh it has your legs shaking and moaning his name between shaky breaths. you whine as you feel him slow down, turning your head back to look at him only to see your art teacher Kaveh approaching. panic bubbles in your chest as your eyes widen but Al haitham looks ver nonchalant, as if he was expecting Kaveh…?

“a parking lot al haitham? couldn’t you at least get them inside the car first?” he sighs as he puts his hands on his waist, al haitham doesn’t change his expression one bit as he speaks so nonchalantly: “will whining be more pleasure than cumming down their throat for you? if so be my guest.” kaveh rolls his eyes as he undoes his own belt, “yeah yeah shut up and let me sit on the trunk already.” you think you hear a hmph as al haitham, arm snakes around your tummy and he pulls your upper body up; kaveh now sitting on the trunk where your head was, his cock already out and semi-hard. you know you should say something but fuck kaveh’s cock is so pretty, al haitham’s cock burns so good and you just want to enjoy the fact that you get to fuck the prettiest teachers in your school, okay?

you lick your lips as al haitham releases his hold on your tummy and his hands find your hips again; watching as you stroke the base of kaveh’s cock and enveloping it with your mouth in one go. you hear kaveh whine as he feels you moan around his cock while al haitham starts his brutal pace again. soft whines, grunts and slick sounds of skin against skin are heard as you feel your hole tighten around al haitham’s dick while your nails are digging into kaveh’s thighs as you suck his pretty cock dry. you feel kaveh’s hands on either side of your head to keep it in place as he starts thrusting into your mouth.

your eyes roll back as kaveh breathlessly moans about how warm your mouth and how tight your throat is while you feel al haitham’s pre cum coat your insides as he takes your wrists and pulls them onto your back; steadying himself with one hand as he holds onto them and getting even deeper into your hole, making you feel every inch of that fuckin’ cock that you just knew was big.

“fuck— im gonna cum, im gonna cum down your throat, okay?” you whine around kaveh’s cock as you feel al haitham’s thrusts getting sloppier, his breathing uneven and his nails digging into your wrists.

your whole body goes still and you can feel tears streaming down your face as you finally cum together with both of them; kaveh cumming down your throat with a loud groan as al haitham gives you a few quick thrusts and cums inside, sucking in a breath when he feels your hole tighten around his dick.

kaveh pulls out his cock out of your mouth as he gently holds your face to kiss you, which makes you gasp softly that derails into a whine as al haitham slowly pulls out. they aren’t even done with you yet.

[basicinstnct]

spoonfed / suguru geto

word count: 1,181

tags: yandere, drugged sex, non-consensual drug use, forced orgasm, bath sex, vomiting, implied kidnapping, aphrodisiacs, established relationship (LOL)

a/n: “have you ever read sharp objects?” me:

summary: After a night spent at Suguru's, you find yourself in poor health.

It’s all very funny, mostly. You’d felt anxious, but fine going to sleep last night. Then when you woke up, the first thing you did was run for the bathroom. You’d hoped sheepishly to return to bed unnoticed, but naturally when you walked back into the bedroom Suguru was awake, waiting with a glass of water for you.

You’d tried to play it off, but then you threw up again, and again. After, Suguru held you close, told you not to hide your whimpers. He said something then, almost blurted it like he couldn’t help himself.

“I guess you won’t be able to make that work trip.”

That was right, wasn’t it? You’d had a trip, one you were supposed to leave for today, but you didn’t have one anymore, it seemed. Suguru had slid out of bed for a moment, grabbing his cell, telling you there’s nothing to worry about, he’ll take care of it.

Now, you feel like a frail Victiorian child. It aches to stand, to breathe even. You’d hoped to find your clothes, to get out of Suguru’s place once you’d gained a bit of strength. You couldn’t imagine yourself willingly letting him see you like this in a million years, but now it’s happening and you’re hating every second of it. If you could only leave, you’d be able to take an extended break to recover, so you’d be at your best the next time you saw him, if he’d want to see you again. 

“You should get back into bed.” You hadn’t even noticed his arrival, which wasn’t surprising. However, instead of being amused, you feel pure dread.

“Um, thanks,” you find yourself trailing off. Has it ever been this hard to put one word in front of the other? “Actually though, I should probably go home. I’ve been here too long and… I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” Suguru sighs. He seems to glide across the room until he’s right in front of you, wrapping cold hands around your arms to fold you back into his sheets. You were shaking in the frigid air of your boyfriend’s bedroom but swallowed in fabric you suddenly start to burn. It’s not long before you’re hurling yourself over the side of the bed, desperate to preserve some measure of self control, of decency.

There’s already a trashcan there for you, and Suguru holds your hair back as you empty the contents of your stomach. It’s liquid and bits of apple. You’d been so weak he’d had to feed you himself, bits freshly chopped into small pieces. His hand on your shoulder, moving softly over and over on the same piece of skin.

“I feel sick,” you raise your head as much as you can, ashamed of your condition. It’s Suguru who grabs your chin, lifts your head so you can see his face (or so he can see yours). You find yourself surprised that he looks so… kind.

“Maybe the hospital–“

“Don’t be silly,” he says, smiling, “Like I would let anyone else take care of you. Now, into the tub.”

He carries you there, and against his chest, you can hear his heartbeat through his robe, feel it too. You think it’s racing, but it’s equally as possible that your sense of time is just distorted.

He says nothing as he strips your nightgown off you. It doesn’t even make you blush at this point, and he hums softly at your display of reliance. 

The water is hot, so much so that you panic and try to escape, but Suguru’s there to push your shoulders down. Instantly, you sink until the water is just below your breasts. Stagnant, waiting for his next move. 

He drops to his knees behind you, probably so you can’t see what he’s doing. It takes more effort than it should, but you turn your head. You’re barely able to see as he pulls out two capsules from what seems like nowhere, and inside are two yellow pills. You hold out your hand, but he gently pushes it away and holds the first one to your mouth. You don’t fight it, or the second one which comes moments later. Then, there’s another glass of water to drink. All the while, he strokes his other hand through your hair. You’re embarrassed that the gesture works to comfort you.

Suguru scrubs your flesh with a soft brush, using the soap you have at your place. You realize that he must have bought it for his. He washes your hair, your face. He treats you with care, but at the same time it feels a bit like a checklist. Once you’re done with one thing, he’s moving on to something else. Still, it’s all routine procedure, until he surprises you.

“Open your legs,” he tells you, and when it takes you too long to comply he does it himself. Then you feel his fingers cup you there. Suguru doesn’t move them; he only applies a bit of pressure you can barely manage. Precise like a surgeon’s hands.

“What are you doing!” You try to be stern but it comes out like a weak moan. You’re so overwhelmed by the illness, by shame of being like this in front of him, that the slightest bit of something pleasurable stuns you.

“Taking your temperature,” he says with no shame, and you’d never believe that’s really what he means to do. “You’re hot.”

“I bet,” you manage to mutter. When Suguru smiles, you realize your lip is trembling.

“In fact, I think I should cool you down.” 

He thumbs at your clit, kisses your neck. It takes barely that to wind you up. Quickly, you find yourself panting for him, out of breath doing nothing at all. You’re worried how reactive you’ll be if he makes you come, but Suguru isn’t scared to push you there. 

His fingers tease at you, stroking softly, but you whine as he presses harder on your clit and begins rubbing it with soft strokes. Your instinct is to writhe, to shake, but you feel too dizzy with pleasure for any of that.

“This is good, right?” you’re asked, like he doesn’t know. “It makes you feel better.” 

“Suguru,” you plead, but it falls on deaf ears.

He leads you towards your orgasm with commands, stay still even though you aren’t moving. Don’t fight, when you haven’t the strength to try. He tells you to kiss him, and you lean your head back to meet his lips. You feel his moan in your mouth, and he coaxes your tongue to touch his. The hand not working you holds your jaw so you’re stuck to him.

You come like that, with his fingers on your cunt. The feeling is hot and muffled. Suguru kisses you the entire time, whispering words in between. He tells you he’s being gentle for you, that it’s nothing you’ve haven’t taken before, probably a hundred times. He’s not wrong, but you still feel worse than ever when he finally opens you up and slips a finger inside.

[bakugou-jpg]

⊹ Past never dies | Touya Todoroki/Dabi ⊹

Request: Ayee! Can i request a scenario for Dabi with a female s/o who is a hero. They were childhood friends, till they were like 16, until dabi left and became a villain. Dabi never clicked in, except for y/n who was his only and best friend. They used to have feelings for each other and Dabi still does since he always had watched over her? by anon.

⤷ -Genre: angst -Characters: touya todoroki/dabi -Tags: light angst, reunion, childhood friends, grief -Word count: 5.9k words -Warnings: violence, blood, vomit, death, abuse [mention] -Author: noelle part of the rewriting series

You were 5 years old when your parents decided to move away from the small town village you had known all your life. With your father's business having grown a whole lot larger over the years, it was only a matter of time before he took it to the bigger cities. A man who had taken his glass shaping abilities to the industrial world rather than the hero one.

From a very young age you had known what path you wished to take. Unlike your father, you had been granted the ability to harden and shape your very own skin with it. As fragile as glass could be, you were determined to proof the world the opposite. To proof the world that your quirk had as much potential as any other.

You were 5 years old when you hid behind the legs of your mother as your parents had taken you to meet your new neighbors. At the time you thought the house you and your parents moved into was big —especially compared to your old one that was. A thought immediately thrown out the window when you first laid eyes on the Todoroki residence. The fact that the head of the household, the number two hero as if he wasn't intimidating enough yet,  watched you like a hawk the minute you stepped foot into their house didn't make it all too better.

At the time they only had three children— Touya the eldest who was the same age as you, Fuyumi who was 4 and Natsuo who was still but a baby at the time. Shouto hadn't even been born yet, Touya still being Endeavour's greatest creation at that moment.

Your mother wanted to you to befriend more children so you'd feel more at home in your new town and what better way but to meet the children next door? Something which didn't take too long as you almost instantly bonded with their eldest son over your shared ambitions. Touya more than eagerly showed off his quirk to you, your eyes immediately widening in amazement upon feeling the warmth of his flames brushing against your cheeks.

He had laughed at you when you had shown him yours, immediately pointing out the fragility of glass. Upon hearing his words you, like any child at that age, did what anyone would do after getting called weak— which was immediately jump him to proof him wrong. Touya, like any child at that age, acted accordingly— gladly returning your sparring to proof himself right.

And just like that, each of you having received a good amount of minor burns and cuts topped off by a good scolding of both your mothers, you had found yourself a new friend. In truth you got along with all the Todoroki siblings at the end of the day, but Touya was the one who you clicked almost instantly with.

At the time you didn't know about what went on behind closed doors. About the both emotional and physical abuse, neglect and the pressure put on those he viewed as an extension of himself rather than their own person. Of course, Endeavour never played the part of a warm loving father and you were aware of the fact Touya had very limited time in which the two of you were allowed to play together, but you hadn't known of the seriousness of it all.

It wasn't around the time the youngest Todoroki sibling was born that you glimpsed into the family's real problems. Around the time that it came to light that Touya's body was made to withstand the dangerously low temperatures of ice like his mother but simply unable to handle the heat of his own quirk.

When Endeavour cast Touya aside to focus on his new successor— the one who would surpass All might. With Shouto possessing both his mother's and father's quirk, Endeavour became obsessed with training the boy into what he viewed to be the perfect hero. Unlike Touya, Shouto's body was able to withstand both ice and fire making him Endeavour's perfect creation.

It was around that time that Touya started his late night journeys to sneaking off to your house. With Endeavour not even granting him as much as a glance anymore, his siblings not seeming to understand and his mother at the edge of madness, Touya had no one. You had been the only one who would listen to him, the only one that seemed to understand the reason for feeling he way he did. After all, becoming a hero was the thing the two of you had bonded over since the very beginning.

It was a silly promise the two of you had made at the time, swearing to one another that you'd become heroes together. Hero agencies right next to each other so you could visit all the time, maybe even a shared one if given the chance. The plans you came up with were never ending— the very last source of hope for Touya who believed the entire world had given up on him. The one who believed he could find a way eventually.

He could always count on you to be there with your comforting words, listening ear and pretty smile to welcome him with open arms. Touya was your very first true friend. The type you genuinely believe you'll grow old with— two 40 year old somethings sitting on your couch with a drink having a laugh while reminiscing on old times. Someone you knew was always gonna be there.

Touya had also been your first heartbreak.

That unexpected Thursday morning in which frantic pounding on your front door woke you and your parents up— an inconsolable Fuyumi and Natsuo barely being able to form words through their sobs and hiccups standing in front of your doorstep to bring you news you hadn't expected to hear for another 60 years in the least.

After all, Touya would grow old with you right? You had so many things planned after all with attending UA together, the hero agencies right next to each other and both being in the top 10 together right? Touya knew that as much as you did, so how could he just go ahead and leave you?

You were only one year away from attending UA,  the very first step towards your dream. One that wouldn't feel complete without him there. For Touya to just go ahead and die right before that..

The image of the closed casket would forever be burned into your retina. His quirk apparently having gone out of control, burning his own body to ashes. There wasn't even anything left to bury, so why had they even bothered getting a casket in the first place? You couldn't help but wonder how scared Touya must've been in his very last moments. How alone.

At times you blamed Endeavour for what happened, believing that the pressure the man put on his family and the abuse he had caused having been the reason Touya was so determined to proof himself even to the point of his own demise.

There were times in which you blamed yourself. Had your naivety been the cause of it all? Had those times in which you spoke of the future together and told him you believed in him, given him false hope? Even though his body couldn't handle his quirk, had you made him believe that maybe if he went all out it could?

The weight of your grief was always present in your heart, every achievement that you had made leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at the thought he would never get that same chance as you. Nor was he there to celebrate it with you. Surely through the years you had come to a point of acceptance, after all death is part of all our lives. It is inevitable and as much as you could never fully let him go, you had found ways to go on with your life.

At the end of the day, you had graduated. Years of hard work having been paid off in fond memories and a hero license in your pocket. At the end of the day it all worked out. Now at 24 years old, you had your fair share of experiences in the hero world already.

You weren't one of the big name heroes, but you still had a handful of fans. Here and there your name had been mentioned on the local news and you had even teamed up with some of the bigger one such as Hawks and, unfortunately, Endeavour. Now having climbed your way into the top 30, you finally allowed yourself to feel some sort of pride for your hard work.

Something which was fast to fade away as you had managed to get yourself cornered by some unnamed criminals you caught causing a ruckus late at night after some drinking. 

Your body was failing you in every possible way. For your quirk to still be somewhat cooperative was a miracle on its own, but with your knees already having succumbed to whatever it had been the tailed man had injected you with, it could only be a matter of time before the rest of your body would follow.

Maybe this was your doomed fate— to die right at the very start of it all, just a few feet away from the starting blocks. Barely having made a name for yourself, the headlines probably wouldn't even give you the recognition you deserved and simply describe you as 'B-tier hero' as the announced your death. The least you could hope for was they'd at least mention you went all out until the very end.

At this point, you weren't even sure what you were fighting for anymore. Was it still the dream of a naive teenager who believed that the life of a hero was exactly as it appeared in the movies? Praised by millions, helping those in need, and never having to worry about expenses?

But all that was washed down the drain when you realized that life was only reserved for those with flashy quirks and big personalities. People like Endeavor, whose heart was as rotten as a corpse left to wither and decay in the open sun. Men like Hawks, who hadn't even gotten a choice but to accept the cruel fate set in stone for them by the Hero Public Safety Commission—a company that did as it pleased.

All Might had been one of the few genuine ones left, but with his fall came the collapse of hero society itself.

You blindly followed the path you had chosen—after all, what other choice was left? At the very least, you hoped to be one of the few good ones remaining, to show what the true meaning of a hero was. That very thought was what kept you going, what helped you get out of bed in the morning.

With that in mind, you groaned through gritted teeth and raised your arms in front of you. Your skin tingled before a thick layer of glass replaced its upper layer. The sharp material extended to the tips of your fingers, hardening and fusing into sharp spears.

Even with all odds against you, you were determined to prove yourself. Pushing yourself up using the spears you'd just created, you struggled to harden your knees to stabilize yourself. Though you were in no shape to take even a few steps forward, perhaps this way, you at least stood somewhat of a chance. The men could only laugh at your pathetic display of courage. Three of them— all still standing and suffering only minor injuries— against you, someone who could barely stand on her own. It was only a matter of time before the rest of your body succumbed to the venom slowly spreading through your veins before giving out.

Seeing you stand again made the bald-headed man raise his tail once more. He could only smirk when he saw you slightly wince at the sight of the stinger, it still dripping a mixture of your blood and poison from the last time it struck you. You couldn't help the hairs in your neck from rising.

"Haven't had enough yet, girly? Can't blame you—"

The stinger whipped back before lashing out your way, its tip shining with beads of poison. It was the last thing you saw before shutting your eyes, arms thrown up to shield your face. Fragile as glass maybe, your very existence was proof it could be much more than that.  

Before you knew it, a wave of screams erupted from the men, followed by an almost incinerating heat slamming into your face. For a moment, it was almost comforting— right until the moment you felt the tips of the spears heat up, to the point the melting heat spread through your entire arm and burned the skin beneath

Had it been Endeavour that came to your aid? 

As quickly as your skin had turned to glass before, as quick it was to turn back. With your arm shielding your face from the heat, you finally managed to peek through your eyelashes. Almost instantly you were blinded by the brightness of the flames before you, the blue sea of fire becoming almost unbearable to stand next to. It was a challenge to be able to make out whoever was the source of the heat— the searing wind almost drying your eyes out. You could only hope the heat hadn't burned your eyelashes and eyebrows off.

It was then that you saw the source of it all—a tall dark haired man standing only a few feet away from you. He had his arm stretched out in front of him, hand open and palm directly pointed towards where the men had been standing whilst his other one was snuggly tucked into his pocket. The power held in just the palm of his hand was enough to fill the entire alleyway with a sea of flames.

He didn't even seem slightly fazed by the fact the three men from before had completely burned to crisp— there ashes falling to the ground as their entire existence had just been wiped off the surface. Even their bones had been completely incinerated.

You couldn't dare move. Whether it had been fear which caused you to freeze up or the fact forming a single coherent thought seemed impossible after what just happened, you weren't sure. You could only watch the man's back— eyes shot wide like a deer caught in headlights. 

For a moment, you had completely forgotten about your knees— until they could no longer bear your own weight. Almost instantly you fell back into the wall, a soft groan rumbling in your throat at the impact before your hand instinctively reached out to the swelling sting mark on your hip. 

The place where the man had stung you started throbbing, the burning sensation in your muscles now spreading throughout your legs. Besides the feeling of your muscles on fire and throbbing, the wound itself had swollen to twice its size from before. You could only hope the infirmary had some sort of antidote lying around for a situation such as this.

Finally the man in front of you lowered his arms, the wave of fire immediately dying down leaving only a few small fires in its wake. Brick walls were covered in black soot, nearby trash containers melted to the ground and you couldn't even begin to describe the smell of burned trash and bodies. The three men from before had been reduced to nothing but a few piles of ash, blowing away in the wind.

"You should've ran."

His husk voice rang— back still turned to you. With the heat gone you could now take a much better look at him than before. He didn't seem like a hero, at least not one that you knew of. His coat was torn in several places, a bad stitching job holding the sleeves together and most of its edges having fire damage. Despite the poor state of his clothes, it was a miracle they managed to only have such minor burns to them.

It wasn't until the man glanced over his shoulder to look at you that you caught a slight peek at his face. Purple scars, presumably caused by his fire, littered his face all the way up to his ears and neck—a collection of messily placed staples holding it all together. You wondered if he still had sensation in those areas; the patches looked so rough and dark you could only assume the skin had died a long time ago.

When the man finally turned on his heel was when you finally got to take a good look at him. The scarred skin seemed to spread across his entire body. There seemed to be more scarred places rather than normal healthy skin. Could his body even withstand his own quirk or had it been someone else's that had caused such severe burns? 

As shocking as his scars had been, it was his piercing blue eyes that locked with your own that almost instantly caught your attention. The very same bright blue in which his flames burned. Almost mesmerizing if it weren't for the fact fear currently settled deep within your stomach.

For any hero, or even civilian, would've been able to figure out who the man was after taking a quick look at him. A face that had been on the news and headlines so many times even children heard of him—and feared him.

It should've been obvious from the very start with how high of a temperature and what color his flames burned. No hero would go so far as to wiping someone's entire existence off the earth within seconds. Despite this, there had been something in you that tried convincing you that perhaps the knight in shining armor that came to your aid was just another hero—maybe even a vigilante.

Not a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Was he here to mock you? Toy with you until the very end? It was embarrassing enough you couldn't help yourself against the other three but looking back you should've been thankful for such a quick end. 

After all, the villain known as Dabi, someone affiliated with the League of Villains, was known for his cruel methods. If it wasn't death by hours of torture, body littered in severe burn marks and clothes melted onto your own flesh— it was death after having been consumed in his sea of flames. In which case you could only hope he left your bones so that people still had something they could bury or identify you by. 

Maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't been in the condition you currently found yourself in you could've stood somewhat of a chance. Not even a chance at victory, that was completely out of the question, but just a mere chance to flee at the slightest opening given. Flee from the fire, flee from him. Even then you were in no shape or form a good match against him— glass had a melting point after all.

Heavy was the sound of boots echoing through the alley as he got closer to you. Not once had he broken eye contact with you ever since your eyes had locked for the first time. Dabi was a man that was hard to read, a villain known for the fact he genuinely did not seem to care about his actions. You couldn't tell if what just happened affected him in any way or whether it was just another day on the clock for him.

You weren't sure whether or not the unsettling heaviness in your stomach and the sweat beading on your forehead were caused by fear or side effects of the poison coursing through your system. Maybe if you were in luck the poison would take you out faster than he would. What seemed like a slow and painful death before, now looked like a merciful one.

"You are no Mirko or Mt lady. Know your limit."

His tone was a condescending one— voice awfully low as he got closer to you.

"W-what the fuck do you want from me..?!"

The words came out lacking every little bit of confidence you would've liked it to have, voice trembling in a way that betrayed the tough facade you had tried to maintain. It was painfully obvious that the act you tried putting on did in no way match the fear that had run your blood cold. You felt like a lamb cornered by a wolf, one who got their pleasure out of seeing the fear of its victims before ripping them to shreds,

Hearing you snap back at him caused him to pause for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. With the obvious power difference he probably hadn't expected you to still try and bite back at him. For just a moment there was a tiny flicker of hope in you that held onto the thought that maybe, just maybe, you had intimidated him for a moment. A tiny flicker that was immediately dimmed beneath the shit-eating grin that tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Is a man not allowed to perform a good deed once in awhile, miss he-ro?" The last word spoken a little dragged out, the R rolling over his tongue, tainted with mockery. To him you must've been no better than a kid dressed up as a hero for Halloween. A mere joke.

Dabi didn't even seem to consider you a threat as he continued to drag his feet forward, hand stuffed deep into the pockets of his slightly damaged coat. With the way his eyes bore into your own you didn't dare look away, scared he'd be at your throat the minute you would. You weren't even sure whether to be relieved he had yet to make his move or to be even more frightened of that.

A sharp scoff escaped your throat shortly after he finished his sentence. For him to even consider himself a man rather than the monster he had proven himself to be, was as much as a joke to you as your entire existence was to him.

"Working on your good karma now?" 

There was a nauseating feeling slowly spreading through your chest, your insides churning as the internal battle against the poison was starting to get the best of you. Cold sweat began to drip down your face, every fiber of your being screaming for relief as if your organs cried out for help.

You weren't sure whether to focus on him or the rising panic of trying to swallow down the inevitable, desperately trying to stall the moment in which the content of your stomach made its way into your mouth. It was only a matter of time before you'd succumb to the effect of the scorpion man's quirk.

A loud cackle echoed through the alley, the disturbing laughter bouncing off of the charred cement walls. The sound of his voice invaded your eardrums, adding only more discomfort to the already throbbing pain inside your skull.

His hand ran through his hair as he smiled down at you, a visible joy radiating off his face. The further his lips curled upward, the more the staples seemed to strain against the pull of his lips. You wondered what it felt like— whether or not they hurt. Could he feel them pulling at his skin constantly? Did the sharp edges hurt the inside of his mouth? Maybe they felt like piercings to him, no different from the ones in his ears and nose.

"You haven't lost your sense of humor— how wonderful." 

Dabi stopped in front of you, his piercing blue eyes peering down at you as he towered over you. Only then did you realize just how tall he actually was. As if his appearance on its own wasn't already intimidating enough, dead charred skin only being held together by low quality staples of which some were still covered in dried blood.

It was hard to put your full focus on his words as you tried your very best to keep your breath steady. With every second that past the strength to keep your own head up felt like a much bigger challenge than before.

"Such a marvelous hero you've become—"

The man kneeled down in front of you, a grin still very present on his face as his eyes scanned over your face. With a slight tilt of his head, Dabi pressed his lips together into a thin line. The way he was studying you felt almost violating with how close his face was to your own. 

A heavy, stale smell of smoke invaded your nostrils as he got closer. His clothes reeked as if they had marinated all night by campfire, a scent that made you feel strangely nostalgic to your youth. It was the very same smell which Endeavour carried around with him after a long day of work. Though Endeavour's was more subtle, it always lingered in his office.

"—and still as pretty as ever." his husky voice murmured, a small grin spreading onto his face.

Before you could even fully process his words, his fingers were on your face— gently moving the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty forehead away from your face. His touch was strangely gentle, the skin of his fingers being nowhere as rough as the rest of his exterior. Soft even.

Death was kinder than any man ever would be. To be humiliated at the hands of the cruel, scarred pyromaniac in your final moments was not how you wished to spend your last moments. At this point, even if he planned of mutilating your body beyond recognition, the poison currently having spread through your entire body would take you out long before that.

With that final boost of motivation, you managed to use the last bit of strength your body could offer to activate your quirk at your fingertips. A tingling sensation spready through your skin as it transformed, a glassy layer forming at your finger tips. Tiny claws extended, and in one quick motion, you managed to slash the palm of his hand.

With the current pathetic state you were in you only managed to cut him once before he leaped back, causing you to fall forward. In your life had you never felt so incredibly betrayed by your own body— usually being able to fully transform yourself and now barely having managed to turn your fingers.

Your arms were the only thing currently supporting you, but with the way your muscles were currently twitching you barely even managed to do that. It was a fight against your own body at this point— vision starting to blur the longer you stared down at the ground and your heart hammered against your ribcage, each thump echoing the growing despair of your declining health.

Turquoise eyes widened as they stared at the blood seeping from the palm of his hand, forming a small puddle on the ground. If you had cut just a little deeper, you would have split open his staples, forcing him to endure the hassle of putting himself back together again. The thought made him smirk.

Even in the state you currently found yourself in, you still tried fighting him? Though your quirk might've not been one of the flashiest ones and especially not one that could match his own— yet here you were. Willpower that could rival those in the top 10.

He squeezed his hand, more blood seeping between his clenched fingers before dripping down his wrist onto the ground. In a swift motion, his tongue dragged across his skin licking up some of the blood that stained his skin.  It was then that you noticed a glistening, small metal ball resting on the tip of his tongue now tainted in crimson blood.

A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat, a twisted smirk once again tugging at the edges of his mouth. "My, my— that's no way to greet an old friend, (Y/n)-chan" He taunted, voice laced with mockery.

As hard as it was to focus on your surroundings with your current state, those words had not gone past you— eyes immediately narrowing in response.

It had been quite a few years since your debut as a hero, years in which you faced countless of villains. From street-level pick pocketers to more notorious criminals that had made a name for themselves, you had fought many. However, due the fact you had not been one of the top heroes, you never crossed paths with anyone affiliated with the League of villains— that was until now.

For an organization that hadn't been around long, the League had grown at an alarming rate in the last few months. The Hero Public Safety Commission had their hands full with them, especially after All might's fall. Missions regarding the League were reserved for the top heroes— people like Hawks and Mirko.

Especially someone like him—a man covered in scars from head to toe with flames that rivaled those of Endeavour, would surely be someone engraved on your memory. Even if you had encountered him, there was no way you could've gotten away unscathed.

A soft grunt rumbled in your throat as you pushed yourself backwards again, your back resting against the wall. You searched your mind for any possible solution, confusion clouding your mind as you tried to recall where you possibly could've seen him.

Black hair, piercings, scar littering half of his body, flames that burned hotter than anything you'd ever felt before, turquoise eyes—

"C'mon doll, i haven't changed that much have i?"

Your breath hitched in your throat , a gasp caught by disbelief as your eyes widened in realization. For a moment it seemed as if the world around you had gone completely still, the only thing you heard being your heartbeat echoing in your own ears. It felt as if your heart had turned to ice, the chill spreading quickly through the rest of your body— numbing your limbs and wiping your thoughts.

His piercing gaze felt even more unnerving than before, turquoise eye boring into your own staring straight into your soul. The intensity of his soul sent shivers down your spine, unsure whether or not to feel relieved or scared.

"Touy—"

Before you could even utter as much as a word, Dabi was right in front of you with the palm of his hand pressed against your mouth in an attempt to silence you. The rough skin of he bottom of his hand felt like sandpaper against your lips, the sharp edges of the staples grazing your skin as his other hand held the back of your hand.

He leaned down and once again, the heavy, stale stench of smoke that he carried with him invaded your nostrils. The very same suffocating smell of death and ash that hung in the alleyway. As his cheek lightly brushed against your own, his warm breath fanned onto your ear-shell causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"Sshh— wouldn't want anyone to hear now, would we? I've got a whole show planned for it and all, would hate to spoil the surprise.."

His voice dripped with amusement as he whispered into your ear. You didn't even have to see his face to know that he was smirking, this was all a game to Dabi after all— your confusion and fear were his entertainment.

"I did miss talking to you, you know? About time we catch up."

The man leaned back slightly and, just as you had suspected, that same shit-eating grin pulled at his lips. The rough texture of his hand was still firmly pressed against your lips, the suffocating pressure only adding more rising nausea in your throat. Even despite all this, you couldn't ignore the feeling of his other hand softly threading through your hair like a twisted display of affection.

For just a moment you had completely forgotten about the state your body found itself in, that was until the nauseating feeling creeping up your throat from before that you had tried to swallow down came crashing back down on you.

As if sensing your discomfort, Dabi quickly pulled his hand back, just in time for you to throw your body to the side. You heaved as you gagged, the bitter taste of vomit rising in your throat and burning in your stomach. Tears burned in your eyes, a combination of both the nausea and helplessness, and the overwhelming wave of emotions running wild in your head. 

A pair of hands grasped the back of your head, plucking away the damp strands of hair that clung to your face as you leaned forward while emptying the contents of your stomach on the pavement. Your hands desperately clawed at the ground beneath you, the sound of your retching echoing in the alleyway.

After a few seconds you could finally allow yourself to breathe again, coughing violently as the acidic burn from the vomit scratched at your throat. You couldn't help the tears that streamed down your face as you desperately gasped for air, your arms trembling beneath your weight as you tried to keep yourself from falling down.

"Y-you— i was there..I-i..i buried you, you..ha.. you died." Your voice trembling, each word weighed down by the grief and disbelief coursing through you.

With the last bit of strength your body could grant you, you managed to crawl a little to the side before your arms gave out causing you to fall to the ground. The lightness in your head was slowly consuming you, the faint noise from the nearby fire crackling and distant cars now fading into a muffled blur.

You couldn't even muster the strength to turn yourself over, holding your eyes open being enough of a challenge on its own. It was Dabi who's hand gripped your waist that rolled you onto your back with ease so he could look at you. It was hard to focus through your blurry vision, his face blurred— only his eyes vibrant enough to capture your attention.

A strangely affectionate smile tugged at his scarred lips, unsettling as it was you couldn't help but feel at ease for a moment— but the ominous gleam in his eyes was quick to take that comfort away. It was the cloth he used to wipe your mouth clean that made you— just for a moment — recognize his old self beneath the rotten exterior he had build around it.

His thumb ran softly over your cheek, brushing away the dirt smeared across your skin. You could barely even feel his touch at this point, the exhaustion weighing you down to the point it barely registered. As your eyelids grew heavier, you felt a sudden shift— a pair of hands sliding beneath your back and knees right as you were lifted from the cold ground with ease. Your head lolled to the side, resting against his solid chest where the faint, steady thrum of his heartbeat felt like a soothing lullaby dragging you further to the edge of passing out,

"—the past never dies." was the last thing you heard before you felt yourself slip away into unconsciousness.

A/N- I rewrote this entiiiire thing! The original was so corny and bad i couldn't stand it. Hope you guys enjoyed and please stick around for more rewrites :D Also big thank you to my lovely friend for proofreading <3