#just stumbled into the position ass backwards without meaning to

[motivationisdead]

I will never get over how Nie Huaisang became the Chief Cultivator.

Nie Huaisang, with his low cultivation, deadass refusal to use a sword, and who flunked a year at the Cloud Recesses is the greatest authority and representative of the cultivation world. Like. If that isn’t irony idk what is.

[photogrivy]

Ivy silently cursed the day Billy McHale opened this stupid little bookshop with its stupid little café. Sure, maybe a little dramatic, but she was in a rut. She’d hoped to pick the bookseller’s brain and find some assistance in getting Wardo a Christmas present, but the bastard had gone on vacation, leaving her high and dry. She’d been walking up and down the Fiction aisle for 30 minutes, her hideous little Apple Watch (a gift from her hideous little Ex) having a field day, and she felt uninspired. Mostly because she’d been staring at the books with so much indifference, none of the titles or authors meaning a damned thing to her in the slightest. Ivy was not a reader, never had been a reader, and never planned on becoming a reader. 

With a groan, she glanced across to where she could see a slither of the café. She didn’t recognise the barista on the till, and she knew that Billy had been having a quick turnaround of both baristas and booksellers recently, so she didn’t expect to recognise much of the staff – bar maybe Simon and, as lovely as he was, she wasn’t sure he’d be her best bet for literary recommendations. When you looked up the word himbo in the dictionary, all you got was a photo of Simon – and a very pretty photo, at that. 

She wondered then, if maybe she should just give up for the day. Call it what it was – a lost cause – and head home. Christmas was still a few weeks ago, she still had time, and maybe Billy would get his ass back, do his job, and find her a damn book before the Holiday Season rolled around. With that thought, she settled on leaving, and vacated the aisle, turning the corner into Poetry so fast that she collided, full pelt, with a man. Tiny as she was, Ivy’s body shook with the impact as she lost her footing slightly, stumbling backwards before steadying herself. A litany of curse words died on the tip of her tongue as she stared up at literal Sex-In-Human-Form that towered over her, a look of embarrassment evident in his features. 

“Well fuck me, aren’t you just the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen?” Ivy muttered to herself, unfiltered and entirely without shame. The man – if you could even dare to call him that – that she’d collided was huge, both in height and in stature – and in Dick Size, she was so positive, too. Her sudden desire to leave the shitty little bookstore was overcome with an urge to memorise every book in Wardo’s catalogue just so that she could convince this Specimen that she was a literary Goddess, worthy of his head between her legs. Honestly, she was suddenly a little surprised he hadn’t shattered her in two with that collision, though the idea wasn’t something she was opposed to, either. She’d let him snap her in two and eat her from within if it suited him. 

Taking a slightly more elegant step back – not that Ivy had ever had any idea how to exude elegance – she pressed a hand to her chest, feigning remorse. Doing her best to channel the prissiest, most entitled fucker you’ve ever met, she offered up an apology. 

“I am so sorry,” she told the man, fluttering her lashes up at him, a pout on her lips that she hoped perfectly toed the line between timid damsel in distress and sexy minx in dire need of a punishment. “I didn’t see you there at all. I was just so eager to get to the poetry section, I lost all my senses entirely.” 

[some-unoriginal-fandom-trash]

Where can one possibly read that fanfic of the blues meeting the cod characters. And tex being stronger than Ghost. Just asking

All 6,000+ words (what the FUCK) can be found on my google docs. But here, have the snippet where Tex beats Ghost’s ass. (She’s technically human in this AU but we’re figuring that out)

“Shame, I was kind of looking for a fight,” you say, and then turn back to Caboose, who had been watching the whole interaction with rapt interest. “You wanna go, big guy?”

“Uhm, no. I do not want to get thrown around a lot again.”

“I’ll go.” You turn, watching Ghost walk in from where he’s been benching. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tucker and Wash exchange a glance. “Been meaning for a spar without your armor, seems like an unfair advantage.” He sounds almost mad, but you’ve never been the best at interpreting his emotions. That’s Soap’s job.

Doesn’t matter how he’s feeling though, because his words piss you off royally. “Oh really?” Tucker, Wash, and Caboose all take a step back. “Fine then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You both step into the ring, and equally size each other up. Ghost is pretty big, you’ll give him that. But he’s not as big or as strong as Caboose, and he’s certainly not as big as the Meta was. Still though, maybe it’ll be more even, as Ghost does tend to have the advantage of not being either a) completely brain dead, or b) crazier than a bag of feral cats.

You breathe in once, and as you exhale, he charges you. A tackle from this close has low risk, high reward if done right. If he manages to throw off your center of gravity, it’ll leave you off to a rough start.

You immediately shift into your stance, before sidestepping, and punching inbetween his shoulder blades as hard as you can with your left fist. The impact makes a loud noise as knuckles meet flesh, and you can feel it echo both across the gym and inside your bones.

It’s been a while since you’ve been in a real brawl like this.

The punch has him faltering down onto one knee, and you can see the spot already start to bruise, but he gets back up and turns to face you, your positions having switched. You’re ready for him, and as soon as he’s on his feet enough, you come after him with a right hook that he just barely dodges by ducking. It’s so close it grazes his hair.

He aims a punch to your abdomen, which you block with your other hand. The next few seconds are a flurry of attempts and dodges, equally from both of you, and it surprises you when he lands a hit on your shoulder, knocking you back a bit.

You don’t let it falter you for too long, as when goes for his next hit, you take his momentum and guide his arm upwards to leave his chest wide open. Your other fist goes straight to his diaphram, before you turn and land a powerful kick directly in the center of his abs. You’re just wearing plain work boots, but you know they hurt, having been on the wrong end of Carolina’s kick just one too many times.

He stumbles backwards, and you decide right in that moment that you’re sick of it.

You’re sick of how you brought the 141 into your home, you brought them to meet your team, the most important people in your life, and they keep you at gun barrell length. After the blood, sweat, and violence you shed and did for them, after the trust you thought you built up, they still have the nerve to mistrust and doubt you. None of them look at you the way they used to after you took your helmet off and spoke with your real voice for the first time. Like they forgot that you and Beta were one in the same, not two people constricted to the same suit of armor. That it wasn't just Beta who would protect them with incredible acts of strength, that it was Tex underneath the black titanium.

It’s with that pent up fury and frustration driving you that you move towards Ghost in one fast, solid movement, grabbing his shirt and yanking him towards you. You can see the exact moment he also realizes what you’re about to do, and that he’s as powerless to stop it as you are powerful to put it in motion.

You punch him clean across the temple, and he stumbles, only kept upright by your grip on his shirt. His head lolls back, eyes closed, and his mouth hangs open under the small face mask as blood pours from the small open wound on the left side of his head.

You come back to yourself all at once, and you hear commotion around you. You carefully set him on the ground, and then quickly back up. You broke the skin on both his head and your knuckles.

You haven’t done that in a long time either.

[ailithnight]

Hmmmmm. Hurt first, comfort later.

Experience with the Demon Brat's clones tells Tim not to trust this one bit. This may look like some scrawny 14 year old in an oversized hoodie and loose jeans... without shoes. But he had somehow found their campsite. In the middle of the woods somewhere just south of Canada. Where only Batman should know they'd be.

And the clone apparently stumbled in in the middle of the night and... decided to take a nap? On the cold, hard, wet ground? But this could all be a ploy. A tactic to get them to let their guards down.

Tim does the only sensible thing he can think to in that moment. He warily keeps an eye on the clone as he silently reaches for his toolbelt. Muscle memory guides him right to the pouch he's looking for. The small gun shoots a tiny dart full of sedative into the sleeping clone and Tim breathes a sigh of relief knowing it should be at least a couple hours before he wakes up.

He takes off the hoodie, finding a long sleeve tee underneath, and frisks the clone for any weapons or tech, not finding so much as a phone and frowning at the way he can feel bones and precious little fat under the thin fabric. Wherever this clone came frown, they obviously weren't being treated very well. Not that that clears him of any malintent. But it is something to keep in mind for later if they can prove the clone means no harm.

For now, Tim focuses on gently tying the clone up, enough to restrain but not hurt. Then picks the clone up (and Tim is fairly certain even he shouldn't have been so light at this age) and moves him to a small tree he can tie the ropes to. Just another precaution, so the clone can't try to run or lunge at one of them. Finally, with the clone restrained and ready for interrogation as soon as he wakes up, Tim goes to rouse the others.

Dick is going to give Tim such a kicked puppy look when he explains. Kon might too what with his personal connection mistreated clones. But Tim will explain and they'll understand the necessity for such safeguards.

.

Danny wakes up. Slowly at first, with heavy limbs at awkward angles. He tries to adjust his position only to find thick ropes holding him in place. That shoots an icy burst of adrenaline through him that wakes his muscles up all at once. His mind, unfortunately, remains a bit sluggish. Danny knows the aftereffects of a tranquilizer when he feels them. He's had enough experience by now.

If he were capable of more lucid thought at the moment, he might realize the ropes are not ghost proof ropes. That he could just phase through them and disappear. But as it stands panic seizes in his chest and freezes all rationale as the fear sinks in that he's been caught again. When legs appear in front of him, someone crouching down to his eye level, he doesn't process the body or... mask? they belong too. The black suit, blue bird, the domino; none of them register. It has to be hunters. Only hunters would tie him up. It has to be his, it has to be Maddie and Jack. Only they could have tracked him down.

Words are coming out of his mouth before he can even think them, desperation bleeding into and pouring out of him. He can't go back. He knows. It won't be death. It will be so, so much worse than that.

"Please. No more. Can't fix me. Don't fix me. Stop trying. Let me go. Please just let me go."

A hand lands on his shoulder and Danny is pretty sure his heart stutters to a stop. Someone behind him makes some sort of noise. Danny can't process what it means as terror throws everything else out the window. The desperate need not to go back to pain overwrites even basic survival instinct as his hysterics turn to screams.

"KILL ME! JUST KILL ME! NO MORE FIXING!MAKE IT END! MAKE IT STOP! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME!"

The figure crouched in front of him lands on his ass and scrambles backwards. Glowing, toxic green eyes glaze over as tears run down Danny's face. He's thrashing in his binds, too panicked to realize they are straining, heavy rope snapping. Only as he lurches forward, face slamming into mud and rocks, does Danny realize he's free. He stumbles to his feet, intent on turning tail and running, but barely makes it 4 steps before a something small and sharp finds the back his neck.

As the familiar sensation of tranquilizers flood his system, Danny hits the forest floor again. Crying all the harder now, he twitches and trembles, muscles turning to jello while his adrenaline response tries to get him back on his feet. It's no use. Darkness invades his vision as 2, no 3, people slowly approach. Slurred pleas for death or mercy, and they're really the same thing at this point, continue to spill out of him even is he succumbs to sedatives.

.

3 vigilantes carefully approach the twitching clone, begging to 'just be killed' even in his involuntary nap. They're all three understandably shaken, though Tim is more shaky than the others. Kon seems enraged more than anything else. And Dick is too focused on taking charge to really panic right now.

"Nightwing to Batcave, anyone read me?"

"I read you Nightwing, what's your status?" Huh, Bruce's Batdad senses must have tingled.

"Did you happen to be watching our domino feed just now?"

"No. Did something happen?"

"I... recommend you watch the footage. Start about 5 minutes ago. I'll fill in the gaps afterwards."

"Nightwing"

"We're fine. No one... none of us are hurt. But we're extracting early. With a guest." Tim and Kon glance at him. Bruce sighs, sending a staticky mess over the comm line.

"Pulling footage. You will explain everything as soon as I've watched."

"Yep!" The forced cheer would be obvious even to people that hadn't spent years with Dick. While Bruce watches the clip, Tim and Kon start pulling down the camp. Dick starts checking the kid so reminiscent of Baby Bird over for injuries.

And thats... there's a lot. There's a lot of injuries there. New and old and scarred. But he can't focus on them right now. They'll catalog all the ways this clone has so clearly been abused later. Dick just needs to make sure nothing is broken or bleeding right now. Then get Kon and Tim and Tim's clone back to base. Then go from there. Right now it's all about getting home.

It was only supposed to be a simple mission. Red Robin and Nightwing were sent to investigate some magical ruins that might have a lead on one of thier shared cases. Kon had practically begged to come along since he and Tim hadn't seen eachother in a while. Nightwing didn't see a problem with it so off they went.

It was later that night when they were asleep in thier tents (Timm was forced to sleep via the power of kons puppy dog eyes) that something strange happened.

---

Phantom wobbled a bit in flight. He didn't know where or when he was. He had just escaped his parents after they saw Vlad transform and in a fit of rage, Vlad outed Danny too.

Vlad was killed pretty quickly. But Danny? They tried to "fix" Danny. It was only thanks to Jazz freeing him that he could bolt into the Ghost Zone and disappear. And bolt he did. He went so far so fast that he didn't even notice when he re-entered the living realms and just kept going.

Not wanting to make his situation worse, he decided to bed down for the night. His wounds weren't exactly healed but they were closed and that was what really mattered. He phased the blood out of his clothes as he silently approached a camp. Thier fire was out, properly drenched too. Danny had a thought to swipe some food but decided not to. Not out of morality, desperate times and all that, but because he physically couldn't muster up the energy to do anything more than curl up on the grass and pass out from exhaustion.

Needless to say when Tim wakes up the next morning and sees what appears to be a younger version of himself curled up outside he freaks out. He sneakily snags a sample and compared it to his own DNA and, suprise! Its a match. Aside from the obvious marks of cloning in his genetic structure and this odd unknown element sticking to it he was a perfect match for Tim Drake Wayne.

Nightwing woke up to find Tim standing over his unconscious mini and muttering about him being a dad. Dick was glad he packed that expensive coffee. They were all going to need it.

Kon was just excited to be an uncle.

[chelseeebe]

true colours. | part 2 to maneater.

summary: steve harrington is just desperate to get you on a date. but old habits die hard as you can’t seem to stop sabotaging yourself.

part 3 is actually already basically finished so it’ll be posted soon <3

also billy is in this!! i would’ve used eddie but i needed an asshole lol

reader is a lil self destructive but we love her so it’s okay

read part one here. | read part three here.

steve harrington had become utterly obsessed with you.

the fact that he couldn’t have you was only making matters worse.

you had him hanging off of your little finger, desperate for your attention. his school days consisted of trying to garner your attention, willing you to just look across the room at him.

it hadn’t helped that your friend jessica had started dating his friend, meaning the two of your groups were now overlapping. being forced to go and watch their basketball practice at lunch, steve so obviously showing off and stripping down for you.

‘just go on one date with him, and then james can stop trying to get me to convince you,’ jessica whined.

she figured it would be pretty much perfect, you and steve and her and james.

‘y’know apparently he doesn’t shut up about you, he’s literally in love,’ she nudges you, as your eyes follow said boy around the gym.

and then at the end of every day, without fail, he was waiting at your locker, leaning back against the metal.

‘so, any news on that date? getting bored of waiting here,’ he leans on his arm, looking down at you.

‘hmmm,’ you shrug, ‘still not sure, sorry stevie,’ you collect your books, and begin to walk out of the school.

he follows after you, like a lost puppy dog.

‘y’know, there’s plenty of girls in this school begging to be in your position,’ he states, now walking next to you.

you know this is his half-assed attempt at making you jealous.

‘okay, well you go ‘head and make some girl very happy then,’ you smirk, two can play at that game.

‘well- no.. i could, but.. i’m giving you this opportunity,’ he’s stumbles through the sentence, flustered at your nonchalant response.

you reach your car and unlock the door, but steve’s hand slams onto the window before you can pull it open. before you can even turn to look at him, you’re pressed against the car.

‘steve,’ you groan, glaring up at him.

his eyes are firmly on your lips, hand on your waist as his hips brush against yours.

‘y/n,’ his face now inches from yours, your chest heaving up and down at the feel of his body against yours.

he did things to you. as much as it pained you to admit, he was probably the first guy you’d slept with that you’d even slightly entertained after having sex.

he leans down, planting his lips on yours as his other hand cups your face.

your eyes flutter shut, unable to resist kissing him back. you can feel him smirk into the kiss as your free hand snakes around his neck.

he pulls back, lips hovering above yours, ‘so, date? or do i have to kiss you again?’

you can only roll your eyes, attempting to conceal the smile creeping onto your lips.

‘what would we do on this.. date?’ you question, wanting to retract the sentence almost immediately.

he beams, ‘you’ll see,’ his lips crash onto yours again, hand slowly sliding up your waist.

you pull back, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him backwards, ‘i’m going home now, you can pick me up at seven.’

he grins, reaching down and opening your car door for you. you slide into the car, as he closes the door.

you roll down the window, ‘i live on olympia, i’ll be outside waiting so you better be on time,’ you state as you back out of the space, his eyes watching as you drive away.

-

steve’s already waiting outside before you can step out. he’s leaning against the maroon bmw, passenger door open for you.

‘wow, such a gentleman,’ you walk up to him, patting his chest as you slide into the car.

he closes the door and gets in the drivers side, head turned to look at you, ‘jeez, you look incredible.’

you flash him a smile in response, ‘well thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.’

he grins, starting the car and pulling off.

‘don’t let that get to your head,’ you note, watching him as he drives.

-

admittedly, the date was quite fun. getting to know him outside of his king steve persona in school.

there was no showing off or trying to impress anyone, just steve harrington being his full authentic self.

he’d taken you bowling, of course he was much better than you were.

‘you’re a little whore, you’ve had more practice than i have,’ you pout as he gets his third consecutive strike.

‘hey, don’t be blame me for the fact that you’re shit,’ he walks back to the bench, slinging his arm around your waist and spinning you round.

a giggle escapes your lips as you break away, walking over to the lane, ‘fuck off trying to distract me,’ you stick your tongue out at him.

after he absolutely kicks your ass at bowling, he takes you out for food at enzo’s. sharing a bowl of pasta with him.

you’re now back sat in his car, parked up in the near empty parking lot.

‘i’ve actually had a really good time tonight,’ you smile at him, not wanting to inflate his ego.

he chuckles, ‘me too, though you suck at bowling,’ he nudges you with his elbow.

‘shut up, i’m not that bad,’ you turn to look at him, leaning over the centre console.

‘mm, you definitely were that bad,’ he looks down at your lips, licking his in anticipation.

‘you’re only good because you’ve had so much practice,’ you lean in closer to his face, hand now resting on his knee.

‘yeah? you jealous?’ he teases.

‘never,’ you slide your hand up his leg, stopping at the top of his thigh.

‘mm hmm i’m sure,’ he whispers as you run your hand over his crotch.

you lean over and kiss him, rubbing his now semi-erect cock as he groans against your mouth.

he slips his tongue into your mouth, his large hand now on the small of your back, trying to pull you onto his lap.

‘get in the back,’ he mumbles against your lips, pulling at the hem of your dress.

‘mhm, needy boy,’ you smirk, beginning to clamber into his back seat as he steps out, sitting on the leather seat before you can contort your body through the gap in the seats.

he pulls you onto his lap, knees either side of his thighs as your hands catch yourself on his shoulders.

you tilt your head down, kissing his soft lips as his fingers dig into the exposed skin on your waist.

pulling the hem of his shirt up and over his head before resuming the passionate kiss as you fumble with his gold belt buckle, attempting to undo the brass buckle.

he slides your jeans down your thighs, grunting as the contact between you is broken. your hips buck against his, fingers sliding into the back of his hair, lightly tugging as his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear.

you moan into his mouth as you slide his boxers, his erect cock springing up.

'quick, princess.. need to be in you,' he pants, pulling your underwear down to your knees. the pet name makes your stomach curl, wanting nothing more but to please him.

you sit up, holding his cock as you guide it into your entrance, already slick with arousal. you moan at the sudden feeling of fullness, his hands grabbing onto the fat of your hips.

you begin to bounce, throwing your head back against the headrest, fingers tangled in his hair as his lips kiss down onto your exposed neck, leaving soft purple bruises.

'oh shit, steve,' slamming your hand onto the now steamed window for stability.

his arm wraps around your waist, beginning to pump into you from below, hips rolling against each other.

you feel your climax begin to build in your stomach, fingers curled into his hair as he begins to fasten his pace.

‘fuck,’ the desperation in your raspy voice evidence of your climax and your legs begin to weaken around his.

‘god, you look so fuckin’ good cumming on my dick,’ he grunts, his last few thrusts becoming sloppy as he empties himself into you.

your name tumbles from his lips repeatedly, alongside a bunch of profanities when he presses his moist forehead to yours.

with a smirk plastered across your face, ‘you’re such a desperate little boy,’ now running your fingers through his damp hair.

‘yeah? n’ who’s fault is that?’

‘hmm, i’ve got no idea,’ you press your lips against his, feeling him smile into the kiss.

you pull back, drawing a smiley face in the condensation on his window.

‘don’t-,’ but he was too late.

‘what?’

he sighs, but his grin tells you he’s not serious, ‘drawings always stick to the window, something with the condensation.’

‘oh well, now you’ll always have my smiley face in your car,’ you give him a toothy grin.

'i'll cherish it forever,' he smiles back.

he drops you home in the early hours of the morning, after spending hours upon hours nattering about everything and nothing.

you go to sleep with steve harrington on your mind. hating the way he had so easily crept into your mind, how you could feel yourself ever so slowly falling for the golden haired boy.

-

you'd practically begged steve to come with you to emily's birthday party.

all of your friend's had found themselves with boyfriends, and you were not prepared to sit there all night watching them sucking face.

he’d only conceded when you’d agreed to stay round his after the party.

you’re sat on the tiny couch, steve to the side of you as the game of truth or dare drags on.

‘truth or dare?’ the mousy girl asks, billy sits forward from the couch, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

you may have had a short fling with him the summer he’d moved to town. before school started and his asshole interior had crept through.

‘dare,’ he nods.

‘hmm, i dare you to make out with the hottest girl in the room,’ she smiles. you notice the crowd of girls practically pucker themselves up, anticipating the action.

billy stands, eyeing a few of the preened girls and then turns and makes a beeline for you.

he leans down, tilting your chin up towards him as he plants his lips on yours. you kiss him back, almost autonomously, as there’s a collective gasp from the room. he growls into the kiss and you push him back by his shoulder, observing the mischievous grin on his face.

‘something wrong harrington?’

your eyes turn to the boy on your right, his mouth taut as he scowls at billy.

‘yeah, actually there is,’ steve stands from his seat on the couch, almost eye level with billy.

‘oh yeah? did i kiss your girl? she didn’t seem too upset,’ he taunts, shoving him backwards.

you grab onto steve’s hand, but he pulls it away, flashing you a dirty look in the process.

steve couldn’t believe it, you’d been so close to him. the only person to break him from his usual routine of fucking and chucking girls. he’d been completely vulnerable with you on the date, a version of himself so few got to see.

and now, you’d kissed someone else quite literally a few inches from his face. it was the fact it wasn’t just anybody, it was billy.

the two of them had never seen eye to eye, in face steve actively disliked the curly-haired boy.

‘yeah well, how’d my dick taste?’ steve snaps, pushing past billy and storming out of the crowded room. eliciting a loud roar from the group of students.

‘wow, your boyfriend’s a bit sensitive sweetheart, you might wanna go and see what’s up,’ billy jokes, eyes back on you.

you shake your head, ‘oh, shut the fuck up,’ but you oblige, following steve out of the room and into the empty garden.

‘steve?’ you call out, as you spot his dark figure leaning against the wall.

you go to join him, ‘it’s just a stupid game, chill out,’ placing your hand on his arm.

‘are you joking? seriously, i can’t tell,’ his jaw clenched as he yanks his arm back from you.

‘what? it was a dare, it doesn’t mean shit,’ you argue back. you’d been on one date with the boy, yet he was acting like you’d just destroyed your committed relationship?

‘you kissed him back,’ he states, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘so what? you’re not my fucking boyfriend steve, so stop acting like it,’ you regret the sentence almost immediately as you watch his face falter.

‘what did you think this was? a bit of fun? someone new to mess around with?’

your face hardens, is that how he saw you?

‘i don’t know,’ you shrug, ‘i’m sorry if you got that impression of me but i have never, ever wanted a boyfriend, let alone some overprotective security guard.’

he shakes his head, pushing himself off of the wall as he begins walking out of the garden.

‘steve,’ you weakly call after him, but it’s useless. he’s already gone. you can hear his bmw race off down the street.

you shake off the argument, spinning on your heel reentering the party. past the gaggle of people that had gathered to watch your argument.

steve’s words linger in your mind, instead of stewing in the argument, you grab the nearest bottle and taking a rather large swig of the liquid, burning as it slides down your throat.

you push all thoughts of steve to the back of your mind, now only focussed on the booming music and the clear bottle in your hand.

-

you groan, awoken by your splitting headache. face down in the pillow.

lifting your head to look around the familiar room. it was steve’s bedroom.

but this time he wasn’t next to you in the bed. instead you lead there all alone. now dressed in one of his t-shirts.

you sit up, hand immediately flying to your forehead, as if to remedy the searing pain in your head.

steve, who was curled up on the floor next to the bed, stirs awake, blinking up at you.

‘you’re alive,’ he mumbles, sounding shocked at the revelation, his hoarse morning voice apparent.

‘yes..?’ you question, ‘am i not supposed to be?’

‘not with the way you were last night, i only slept in here to make sure you didn’t choke to death on your own sick,’ he sits up, rubbing his eyes at the light peaking through his blinds.

‘oh.. i don’t.. really remember much..’ the night before just a splodge of black in your mind.

you can remember arguing with steve and then.. going back to the party.. but that was it. anything that had happened beyond that point was lost.

‘yeah i’m not surprised,’ he says pointedly, a slight frown on his lips.

‘why am i.. how am i here?’

‘jessica called me, told me to come and pick you up because you were fucked up, apparently you were threatening to fight everyone.. and then you threw up all over yourself,’ he’s says it with a certain vim to his tone, throwing it in your face.

you can’t help but snort, sounded about right for you. explaining why you’d ditched the dress and were now in steve’s closes.

steve doesn’t find it quite so amusing.

‘you remember kissing billy?’ his words are like venom, attempting to hurt you.

‘yeah.. in truth or dare,’ you spit back at him. reiterating the fact that it your whole argument stemmed from some stupid party game.

‘no, this was after i left, you were halfway to his car when i arrived,’ he says matter-of-factly, his tired eyes staring at you.

‘oh.. then no,’ you shake your head, looking down at the blanket, unable to meet his gaze.

‘yeah.’

you blink as your eyes begin to well. you hadn’t meant to ruin whatever was going on between you and steve, it was just what you did.

unable to let anyone get close. and if they did? you’d find a way to ruin it.

like when you’d kissed your first boyfriend’s best friend after he’d told you he loved you. or the time you ran off with your next boyfriend’s much older brother when he’d confessed his feelings to you.

there was always something, even if you’d never anticipated it. you couldn’t help the impulsive feeling to ruin whatever situation you found yourself in, no matter how you felt about it them.

‘steve, i’m so sorry,’ the tears spill onto your cheeks. this was the first time you’d actually apologised for your destructive behaviour.

‘i don’t want to be a part of whatever game you’re playing, not anymore.. i think i’ve made my feelings for you pretty obvious.. i won’t spell it out for you.’

‘i’m not playing a game, steve.. i don’t know what i’m doing, but it’s not on purpose.. i just- i can’t help it,’ you’re sobbing into your hands now, last nights mascara smudging over your palms.

‘well.. you need to figure out whatever it is you’re doing and then come and find me,’ he stands from the floor, grabbing his sweatshirt and pulling it over his head.

he sighs, the very sight of you curled up, crying was breaking his heart.

you sniff, ‘i’m sorry, really i am.’

he bites the inside of his cheek, ‘yeah,’ he walks over to the door, ‘c’mon i’ll drive you home,’ if you stayed any longer he just might forgive you.

you gulp, standing from his bed, noticing the pair of his sweatpants he must have slipped on you last night.

the car journey is quiet, awkward as neither of you want to be the one to speak first. your head leans against the window, staring at the passing trees rather than at him.

he reaches your house, ‘i’ll wash these and i’ll give them back to you,’ you mumble, stepping out of the car.

‘keep ‘em,’ he stares straight ahead, unable to look at your frankly, pathetic self. he’d never seen you so meek, so small with your shoulders hunched over.

‘oh.. well, thank you steve, for looking after me n’all..’

he nods, gritting his teeth as his knuckles turn white from his grip on the wheel.

‘i’ll see ya-,’ before you can finish, his wheels spin off, leaving you stood alone in your driveway, cheeks sodden with tears.

[thebigbadbatswife]

This Stays Between Us | Batman x Fem!Reader

Summary - You and Batman continue to fight with each other. It’s almost as if he enjoys pushing your buttons any chance he gets. And with the two of you behind closed doors, it ends exactly how you would expect.

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI, smut, orgasm denial, overstimulation, begging, hate-sex.

A/N - The long awaited sequel to No One Has To Know! Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count - 2.3k

“For once in your life, would you shut up!” you shouted as you shoved Batman backwards. He stumbled and the back of his legs hit his chair, causing him to roughly land his ass in the seat.

You didn’t give him a chance to recover as you straddled his lap. You towered over him, one of your hands resting on the arm rest while the other came to rest on the headrest, caging him in. Your faces were inches apart. Other than the sounds of your breathing and the humming from the computer, the room had fallen completely silent. Batman, for once, was speechless. You never thought you’d live to see the day.

Honestly, you were sick and tired of this guy. You two had just finished working on a mission together, where things had actually gone well between you two for once, but now that it was over, he was right back to being a total asshole. It was almost as if he enjoyed pushing your buttons and you were so over it.

The silence stretched out between you. While it felt like it lasted hours you knew it only lasted a couple or so minutes. Briefly, your eyes glanced down to his incredibly soft lips before back up to the white lenses of his cowl. Memories of the last time you’d been this close flashed through your mind. You both had agreed to never speak of it, but that didn’t mean that, when you found yourself alone at night, you didn’t think about it. Without another thought you crashed your lips against his, pouring all of your frustration into it. Batman kissed you back, with his own frustration pouring into it, and his hands came to rest on your thighs.

You pushed your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues battled for dominance. A battle that you ultimately won. Eventually, in need of oxygen, you broke apart. You caught his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a tug, as you pulled away. You were both panting hard, lips swollen from the sudden and intense makeout session.

From where you were positioned on his lap, you could feel where his growing erection was beginning to strain against his batsuit. Your cunt was already throbbing for attention itself.

“You’re infuriating,” you told him.

He really was. You wanted to both deck him into next week and have him fuck you senseless. He opened his mouth to reply, but you shut him up with another heated kiss. As you kissed, you began to grind against his erection. He inhaled sharply at the contact and his grip on your thighs tightened. A breathy moan left you at the feeling. His hands slid up from your thighs and went to your ass, where he gave it a nice, firm squeeze. You gasped against his lips and pulled away from him, glaring at him. Batman had that irritating smirk of his, almost like he was challenging you to do something about it. Maybe you should just deck him. He would certainly have it coming and wiping that damn smirk from his face would certainly feel good. Though, with that being said, not as good as an orgasm, or two, would make you feel.

“Suit. Off. Now,” you ordered him, making up your mind on what you wanted from him right now, before removing yourself from his lap to get rid of your own suit. You knew he had complied with your order, and rather quickly in fact, by the loud thud of his utility belt hitting the floor.

When you turned around to face him again, Batman was a sight to behold. His well toned muscular body on full display with his large, thick cock standing proudly and tapping his well defined abs, a bead of precum already forming at the tip. He still wore his cowl, as you still wore your own mask. After all, you were only interested in each other’s bodies, not your identities. He held up his hand and between his index and middle fingers was a condom wrapper.

You snatched it from him and pushed him back onto the chair, before resuming your earlier position. Once the condom was on his cock, you gripped it firmly with one hand and guided it toward your dripping core. You lowered yourself down onto his length, moaning at the feeling of the wonderful stretch as his cock filled you up. Batman hummed at the feeling and his hands now had a grip on your hips. Your hands came to rest on his shoulders and you began to move. As you bounced on his cock, the room was quickly filled with the sounds of your moans and skin hitting skin; as well as Batman’s own low groans. You thought he sounded so much better like this, groaning in pleasure rather than the irritating tone his voice took when he was berating others.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tilted your head back, exposing your neck to him, as you relished in the feeling of how good his cock felt inside of you. Batman decided to take advantage of this as you felt his mouth against your neck. He trailed his kisses downwards, towards the swell of your breasts. He took one of them into his mouth, his tongue swirled around your nipple before taking it between his teeth and tugging on it, making you gasp. One of his hands slid upwards from its place on your hips and began to fondle your other breast. Meanwhile his other hand slid downwards to grab and squeeze your ass again.

A part of you thought it was ridiculous how someone who made your blood boil like no other could also make you feel so incredible. Another part of you thought it was high time that the other part shut up and just enjoyed the ride.

You tried to focus on keeping your rhythm going, but your mind kept zeroing on all of the places he was touching, and your pace began to falter. Batman, obviously, was quick to take notice and pulled away. His hands returned to your hips and he began to roughly thrust up into you. Your forehead came to rest on his shoulder as you let him take control and fuck you.

You were suddenly thankful that this was taking place in a much more private place than it had last time because you were positive that you wouldn’t be able to stop or even quiet the noises that you were making right now.

Your nails began to dig into his shoulders as the pleasure within you built up with each rough thrust. You could feel your climax quickly approaching. You went to slip a hand between your bodies so that you could rub your clit, but his hand stopped you. His thrusts also slowed down before coming to a complete stop. You knew he hadn’t hit his release yet as he was still rock hard inside of you, so what the fuck did he think he was doing? You felt his breath fan over against your ear as he panted. You were about to find out.

“What was it you called me earlier?” he asked, his voice dangerously low, “Infuriating, wasn’t it? You really should have picked your words better.”

You silently cursed yourself as you groaned out in frustration. You should have known that Batman would pull something like this once you had given him control. He really was an ass.

Batman started to move again, but his pace was torturously slow. His grip on you was irontight, making sure you wouldn’t move unless he wanted you to. Leaving you completely at his mercy. He brought his thumb to your clit and began to rub it, matching the pace of his thrusts. Enough to bring you some pleasure, but nowhere near enough to bring you back toward the edge you had been teetering on before.

He kept this pace up for a time, driving you crazy. Small gasps and whines left you. Your bodies were slick with sweat and you could feel your wetness dripping down the insides of your thighs. You were so desperate for the release he had and was continuing to so cruelly deny you.

You wondered, realistically, how long could he keep this up for? Surely he was starting to grow desperate for his own climax as well. He had to be. There was no way he wasn’t aching to hit that high. You knew what he was waiting to hear. He wanted to hear you beg him to let you cum, and there was no way you were going to give him the satisfaction.

Eventually it appeared his resolve was beginning to crack as the pressure he had on your clit increased and his thrusts started to grow faster and rougher. Enough so that the chair beneath the two of you was starting to squeak in protest of the movements. In the haze of your pleasure and approaching climax, you briefly wondered if it was going to collapse underneath your weights and send you both straight to the floor.

The thought must have run through Batman’s head as suddenly he stopped moving, making you whine out in dismay, and effortlessly lifted you up and moved you. The surface of the desk he set you on was cold, which made you gasp and sent goosebumps across your otherwise hot skin.

He didn’t start to move straight away. Instead, with a finger coming to rest beneath your chin, he titled your head up to make you look at him.

“I know how badly you want to cum, I can feel it, and I know you already know what you need to do so it happens.”

In that moment, you came to the conclusion that his willpower was inhuman and you felt your own resolve completely crumble into dust. You were so desperate for release that you really didn’t care how you sounded anymore.

“Please, Batman. Please let me cum,” you begged him, “I need to cum.”

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Before you could even think of a response, he was pulling out and roughly thrusting back in. His fingers were back to playing with your clit. Your nails dug into his back and your heels dug into his ass, trying to get him to go deeper. After already being brought to the edge twice, you felt so overstimulated and knew it wasn’t going to take you very long to cum. If he actually let you, that was. The thought of actually being able to hit your high seemed almost too good to be true.

Your climax washed over you, making you cry out in pleasure. He groaned at the feeling of how your walls pulsed and squeezed his throbbing cock, trying to milk his seed from him. Batman fucked you through your orgasm and kept going, showing no sign of reaching his own climax yet.

You could feel your second orgasm rapidly building up within you. After torturing you all night, he now seemed hellbent on making you cum again and again. Your second orgasm was the most intense one you had ever had. Your vision went white as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as it rocked through your body.

Your head was resting against his shoulder, as you slowly came down from your delirious high. You were panting hard and your legs were shaking from the intensity of the pleasure. Batman was panting particularly hard himself and the previous bruising grip he’d had on your hips was now gentler. You stayed like that for a moment, catching your breaths and soaking in that post sex glow.

Eventually you pushed away from him and he pulled out of you. You were unstable on your legs at first, when you hopped off of the desk. Batman went to assist you, when he noticed, but you waved him off. You were grown up and capable of looking after yourself. You had a feeling that you were going to be walking weird for the next few days.

You picked up your suit, from where you had left it, and were quick to get it back on. As you clipped your belt back into place, you looked over your shoulder. Batman was already back in his batsuit. He stood by the computer, arms crossed against his chest. If he hadn’t fully recovered yet, he showed no signs.

“Right, let’s get one thing straight,” you began now that you were finally decent once again, “We-”

“-are never talking about this,” Batman interrupted, finishing your sentence. “You said the same thing last time, I figured you would say it this time as well,” he stated, when he saw your questioning gaze.

“You have a problem with that?” you asked, turning to face him properly now and crossing your own arms. You hoped not. Besides, what was there to talk about?

“Of course not. I think it would be best if we kept this between ourselves.”

“For once, we agree on something,” you replied. “Now, unless you need me here for anything else, I’m going home.”

Batman shook his head. “There’s a couple of details to finalise on the case, but I can do that alone. So you’re free to go home.”

“Goodnight, Batman.”

“Goodnight.”

As you left the safehouse, you could feel his gaze still on you, as he watched you leave. Now out of the safehouse, you grappled up to the rooftops and began to travel across them towards where you knew the Zeta-Tube sat, so you could use it to teleport over to your own city.

On your way back to your own base, and long after you had reached it, you found yourself thinking about what had happened between you and Batman. And you couldn’t help, but feel that if this continued that it was going to get very, very messy, very very quickly.

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[noteguk]

be quiet | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a drabble for bad influence. It can be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which jungkook is the best at picking the worst possible place for a quickie. 

— contents and warnings; smut, pwp, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, public sex (library), doing the nasty in the theology section, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mid-sex arguments, jk is a mean lil shit (nothing new), kind of dom!jk, creampie, oral (female receiving), cum eating, cum play

— words; 3.1k

— author’s note; this was requested by anon and I thought it would be a nice thing to drop before the angsty parts begin 😌 also, for time context, this happens a bit after “bad behavior”

~

You were pretty sure that Jungkook had chosen that section on purpose. Because he hated you, that’s why. 

Never once in your life had you wondered so far into the university’s library, past the known biology and chemistry shelves, and into the dusty alleyways of the humanities courses. And that was the shameful reason why you didn’t even know that there was a religious section in the first place. 

The realization was obvious if you actually stopped to think about it: there were so many classes related to theology in your university that it would be ridiculous not to have books on that. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel like the old, hardcover bible was staring at you in endless disappointment as Jungkook turned you around and threw the hem of your dress over your hips. 

“Shhhh, baby, keep it quiet,” he shushed you after a small whimper had escaped your lips, his palms spreading over your ass cheeks. “Someone’s gonna hear you.” 

Because Jungkook hated you (as previously established), he instantly contradicted himself with a loud slap against your ass. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you hissed, fumbling closer to him as he tugged your underwear to the side. The cold air hit your wet folds instantly, spreading goosebumps through your skin. Jungkook was an expert at noticing the most timid, basic ways that your body reacted to his touches, so the clear asymmetry between your rough speech and the shivers running through your body was enough to make him snicker. “Keep it down. This isn’t funny.” 

Jungkook chuckled behind you, the sharp noise of his zipper opening sounding like a gunshot inside that quiet building. “No. It’s hilarious, actually.” 

You sighed, praying to all the books around you that no one would stumble across that erotic spectacle. You had no idea if there was another living soul wandering around the library so late — in fact, the place was like thirty minutes away from closing and you were positive that the librarian was already dozing off on the front counter when you arrived, so she was probably balls deep in REM sleep by that point. There was no one cramming for midterms, no night owls to interrupt the two of you and, just to top it all off, it was a fucking Friday. The library was so empty that you didn’t even know why you went to that place. 

Okay, that was a lie. You went there because Jungkook had booty called you — yeah, yeah, boo-hoo, shame and disgrace — but, in your defense, you honestly thought he was just in desperate need for some extra help with his project (which was what he had initially told you). Turns out, “extra help” in Jungkook Dictionary didn’t mean the academic one. It meant that he was pathetically hard and he wanted somewhere to stick his dick in (instead of doing it like a normal person and using his hand). 

Regardless, your position was equally embarrassing. You could’ve just walked away when you realized his true intentions, and not followed him into the theology section of the library, for fuck’s sake. You really needed to start exercising some self love and put some limits in that chaotic situationship before you got yourself in serious trouble. 

Still, all those mental promises turned into silence when you felt his fingers playing with your folds, teasing their way between them. “So fucking wet,” Jungkook’s horniness dripped from his voice like honey, so soft and deep that got your knees buckling, back arching so he could reach your heat better. “Such a needy girl. Always begging for cock.” 

“I didn’t beg for anything,” you weren’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit; looking over your shoulder just so you could stare him down. Somewhere along your messy make-out session and the Bible-induced guilt, Jungkook had already moved his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs, his cock standing erect and proud. His timing was fantastic when he was actually interested in something. “You’re the one that can’t keep it in your pants.” 

He scoffed. “Don’t ruin the mood.” Jungkook punctuated his sentence with the plunging of two of his fingers inside your pussy, making a surprised whimper fall from your mouth — which you suppressed a second too late. “And of course I can’t, not when you’re dressed like this.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the pleasure that started to build up at the pumping of his fingers in and out of you. “My knee-level dress is neither sexy nor an open invitation, you troglodyte.” You had chosen to wear that dress because it was a deliciously warm afternoon, not because you wanted to get railed while staring at religious texts. Jungkook, however, seemed to stare at your choice of clothing like he was looking at an “all you can eat” bouffet. You groaned. “But if you’re gonna do it, can you rush? I don’t wanna get caught.” 

It was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as his digits left your heat. You knew he’d tease you endlessly if you didn’t say that, and you two were on a tight schedule. “You never do,” he mumbled. 

“Duh,” you said, watching as his hand curled around his cock, pumping it a few times. You placed your own hands on the shelves and refused to look at the books any longer. “I have a future, you know. Don’t wanna get expelled halfway through the—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted you, holding onto your hips. Jungkook aligned himself with your entrance, coating his crown with your wetness and grunting at the sensation. “Fuck. Don’t wanna talk about your stupid high marks right now.” 

Jungkook made his point clear with a swift roll of his hips, his thick length gradually entering your pussy. You bit down on your lip, closing your eyes as you marveled at the aphrodisiac sensation of his cock opening you up. “Shit,” you moaned — a whispered, breathy moan that wiped all your fierceness away. “You’re so — fuck — so annoying.” 

“I said shut up,” Jungkook hissed, his cock hitting deep inside you with a strong hit of his hips against yours. You could feel him everywhere, mercilessly pushing his way inside your tight walls and stretching them wide for him. 

Your eyes instantly fell shut, eyebrows raising as he started to set a rhythm, moving in and out of your soaked heat. The sounds of your bodies meeting was dirty and, worst of all, it was super perceptible to any one passing by — however, in typical Jungkook magic, you quickly forgot about most of your worries. “Oh my… Jungkook,” you gasped, feeling his grasp on your skin grow tighter at the uttering of his name. “Someone’s… someone’s gonna hear us.” 

But you had successfully managed to piss Jungkook off, which was a terrible sign in that specific (public) situation. “Shit, you’re always like this,” he groaned, raising the force of his thrusts. A desperate moan died on your throat at the feeling of his cock drilling in and out of you, your breath shallow. That couldn’t be good. “Can’t stop fucking talking.” 

Thinking was starting to get difficult, and speaking was even worse. “That’s not what I—”

Another whimper broke your sentence, your trail of thought long forgotten, and he used that opening to his advantage. One of Jungkook’s hands slithered from your hip to the front of your body, moving between your breasts before, at last, settling on your neck. There was no strength on his actions when he pulled you backwards, making your back press against his chest. “Why can’t you understand when I tell you to be fucking quiet, uh?” His voice was a rough growl close to your ear, filled with so much hunger that you almost lost your balance. Before you did, however, the tap of two of his fingers on your lips made your focus shift. “Do both of us a fucking favor and put your mouth to good use.” 

For the first time that night, you were obedient. Without hesitation, you parted your lips so his fingers could move inside your mouth, a deep exhale leaving his chest once you started sucking on them; muffling your whimpers. 

“That’s it, fuck,” he praised, his momentaneous anger slipping away from his grasp. You could feel Jungkook throbbing inside you every time you swirled your tongue around his digits, his length splitting you open like no one else could. “You’re so fucking tight. The only reason why I don’t stuff your mouth full of my cock right now is because this pussy is too good.” 

You clenched around him, tried to say something that sounded like gibberish with his fingers still in your mouth. Amazingly so, Jungkook understood what it was. 

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” He asked, breathless. You could only nod, your body bouncing up and down with the force of his precise thrusts. “Yeah?” He chuckled. “You know, I should just leave you like this, see if you learn to shut up for once.” 

“Pfflease, no,” you struggled to get out. 

“No? Now you listen to what I have to say?” Jungkook kept teasing you, watching as your initial petulant attitude was washed away. Doing that to you seemed to be a habit that he couldn’t let go, no matter how hard he tried. There was something about the way you fumbled and whimpered under his grasp that inflated his ego more than anything. “You only listen when I have you like this. Don’t you think that’s funny?” 

Jungkook pulled his fingers out of your mouth, using that hand to press your body closer to his; tattooed arm wrapped in an iron grip around your waist. “Sorry,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing at that point; you were just trying to grasp at anything that could bring you some sort of salvation. Maybe if you tried to appease his pestering spirit, he wouldn’t be so cruel when it came to your release. “Jungkook, please.” 

“Please what?” He asked, his breath ragged against your ear; sounding like he was almost getting lost in your pussy. 

“Please let me cum, please,” you begged. You didn’t know how he managed to do it: to make your entire personality crumble down into a desperate, needy mess with little to no effort. He knew just the right buttons to push; just the right way to fuck you. It was a dangerous game that you were playing and the score clearly wasn’t in your favor. 

“I’ll think about it.” He groaned, a particularly loud moan ripping itself from his throat at another hash buckle of his hips. He was fucking your so well that you couldn’t even remember where you were for a second, all inihibitions pushed aside as your mind turned into a hazed, disconnected mess. “First, be a good girl and let me fill you up.” 

You nodded desperately, not trusting yourself to say anything else. The heat in your stomach was building up at a worrisome speed, threatening to spill over at any given second, and yet you didn’t think it would happen quick enough. 

Just as you expected, Jungkook was cumming a few thrusts later, spilling himself inside your pussy as he groaned against your shoulder. “Fuck, baby,” he was fighting for air, trying to keep his moans as quiet as he could manage them. And yet, when his mouth right next to your ear, you could hear with divine clarity the beautiful, airy sighs he gifted you as he continued to fuck you through his high. “Take it, come on. Fuck.” 

You were almost pleading for your own body to hush and allow you to cum before Jungkook pulled away but, once again, you weren’t that lucky. You were left with shaky legs as he removed himself from your heat; feeling awfully empty as he swirled you around before crashing his mouth against yours in a messy kiss. 

Yes, Jungkook fucked you like no one else could, but kissing him managed to be even more heavenly sometimes. Time and time again, he would surprise you with kisses that left you seeking for air; the slow drag of his tongue against yours matching perfectly with the way his hand cupped your cheek, thumb delicately caressing the skin. It was the eye of a hurricane, the tranquil skies before the storm hit, and you could get lost in it with such ease that it scared you sometimes. 

But then he pulled away, and the magic left you just as quickly as it had arrived. “J-Jungkook, I didn’t—“ 

“Shh, baby, I know.” Another tender kiss against your lips, and his mouth moved to your jaw, nibbling on the skin. “Gonna clean you up, princess. Don’t worry.” 

Brain too overwhelmed to react, you were left speechless as Jungkook trailed a path of sloppy kisses down your neck, sending shivers down your spine before, at last, getting down on his knees before you. A question got trapped in your throat, rapidly forgotten, when he raised one of your thighs and placed it over his shoulder. “Hold this up for me.” He signed at the hem of your dress, and you did as he requested, pulling the fabric to the level of your breasts. “That’s my girl.” 

A shivering sigh danced on your tongue as you waited for him to move, his eyes eagerly taking in the way his release dripped between your folds, mingling with your own wetness. Jungkook loved to watch his work. “So pretty,” Jungkook mumbled, as he always did; sounding like he was trapped in a daydream. Like you weren’t actually supposed to hear that. “Always so pretty for me.” 

You got lost in his praise for exactly two seconds before he was leaning in and pressing his mouth against your heat. Your hips buckled forward, barely held in place by his strong arms around your thighs. “Jungkook,” you called his name, making his dark eyes snap towards yours. His tongue prodded against your opening once, twice, teasing your pussy a few times before he licked his path up your slit, lips wrapping around your clit. “God, so good.” 

Jungkook hummed against your heat, lapping between your folds like he was a starved animal, not caring about the fact that his own cum was mixed with your arousal. You were starting to consider that maybe he had a bit of an oral fixation, because you never saw him so focused as when he had his face buried between your thighs; his tongue playing with your sensitive spots so eagerly that you couldn’t help but whine out his name. 

“Oh— Fuck,” you whimpered, feeling  as that familiar pressure started to build on the base of your spine. Your hands were sweaty, clenching onto the fabric of your flowery dress as Jungkook continued to moan and lick his way around your pussy. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Jungkook was looking up at you through the thick curtain of his messy hair, his devilish eyes sparking up in a silent dare for you to make a mess on his tongue. At the same time that he told you to keep quiet, you knew that he got off when you were loud — especially in a place like that, where the two of you could get caught. He was a fucking demon when he wanted to be, and he seriously didn’t have any trouble dragging you to hell along with him. 

The worst part was that you liked it. You liked it since the very first time he had you, liked the way he took your precious control away from you. You liked when he had you like that: a shivering, desperate mess hanging by a thread; dwelling in the fantastic sensation of his wet muscle prodding your entrance, fucking it open as he stared up at you like he could eat you whole. 

It was always the sight of Jungkook like that — between your thighs, eating you out like you were his favorite sweet — that pushed you over the edge. You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, muffling your needy cries as you finally reached your high, his tongue still playing with your clit as you came down. Jungkook groaned as a small wave of your arousal dripped on him, his mouth expertly cleaning it up, just like he had promised. 

“S-Stop,” you whimpered, a violent shiver overtaking your muscles as you started to feel the effects of your sensitivity. “Too much.” 

After a final stroke of his tongue against your slick, Jungkook tugged your panties back in place and removed your thigh from his shoulder before, finally, he moved back to his feet. Your hand, weak, let go of the fabric and allowed your dress to collapse back into place, covering the mess between your legs. 

He smirked at your overwhelmed, fucked-out state as he tugged himself back inside his pants. The sound of his zipper was once again a noisy interruption, which brought along a new wave of panic as you remembered your location. 

You grabbed Jungkook’s wrist, twisting it around so you could look at his watch. “We have five minutes until closing time.” You sighed heavily, looking up at him with your typical irritated stare. His magic didn’t last for long, after all. “Why are you always like this?”

“Like what?” Jungkook raised one eyebrow, unable to hide the entertainment in his voice as he watched your expression. He ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing it back. “Incredibly handsome? Charismatic? Good at everything? Including eati—”  

“I was going to ask why do you have the inherent need to defile religious places, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” you interrupted. “By the way, this,” you pointed between you two, “is not happening again. So I hope you had a good last time.” 

Jungkook chuckled, holding your chin with his fingers. “This is like the third time you’re saying that, baby.” He pulled you in for a quick kiss, barely a tender press of his lips against yours. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

 ~

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[lonely-lost-soul]

Fight For Me

(C!Technoblade x gn!possessive!Reader)

Request 11: could I maybe request some c!techno x gn!possessive!reader fluff that follows someone trying to threaten techno while completely brushing off the reader only for the reader to step in and feral threaten them back (perhaps some fighting ensues with reader coming out on top) and then techno is awestruck by his partner which is then where the fluff comes in

Requested By: @bowlofsoup

I hope you like it!

“Sweetheart can you do me a favor and pass me the blaze powder,” Technoblade asked from his hunched-over position at his brewing station. He was wearing more casual clothes, his glasses loose on his nose, hair pulled back into a messy bun. You sat next to him on one of the chests, legs swinging up and down, you were wearing one of Techno’s oversized shirts.

“Sure thing,” You hummed tossing open the chest and handing him a bottle of said powder, he reached forward to take the bottle from your hands and you kissed his lips before he could take the bottle. Technoblade purred happily, his eyes going half-lidded at the surprise kiss, you chuckled against his lips as he flushed pink.

“Cringe.”

“Nerd,” You shot back with a smile he rolled his eyes focusing back on his potions, “Why’re you making these again?” Your gaze shifted towards the window. It was snowing again, it was always snowing. You hated that you were getting sick of the constant cold you wondered what the weather was like back at L’manburg or L’manhole was a better term for the once-prosperous nation. Technoblade looked back up at you, his hand reached out to interlock with your own, which caught your attention snapping you out of your daydreaming and you smiled back at him.

“Someone wants to buy them off me, figure sees what they’d offer me for it, not like I’m worried about getting jumped or anything,” Technoblade smirked coyly at you, almost like he was awaiting your praise. You didn’t fall for it though, simply letting out a little hum in approval, he frowned and cleared his throat.

“Oh sorry. Oh baby you’re so brave and strong, no one can take you down.” You pressed your hands together swooning sarcastically, Technoblade frowned and put you into a headlock. You laughed loudly instead of fighting against him you snuggled in his hold, “You’d never hurt me.”

“Try me.”

“Is that a challenge?” You mused with a flutter of your eyelashes, Technoblade flushed a little and grumbled under his breath. He could feel the smugness radiating off your entire being, if you were anyone else he would’ve sent you through a wall.

“Just shut up and grab a bag for the potions. They’re almost done.”

“Yes sir.” You saluted hopping off the chest to grab your bag from the coat rack, it was a soft brown bag covered in patches. Holding the bag open you allowed Technoblade to place the potions inside of them, “we ready to go?”

“You grabbed your coat and had breakfast right?” He raised an eyebrow, it seemed to be your turn to flush and Technoblade frowned, “Right?” Technoblade’s eyes narrowed in your direction and he watched you tap your fingers together sheepishly. “You’re a disaster, you’d be dead without me. Eat,” Technoblade dragged you into the kitchen and pulled out a roll for you to munch on, “Jam?”

“Yes please.” You gave a firm nod as he grabbed the knife and spread it on the bread before handing it to you.

“Remember to eat, can’t have my Starlight starving themselves,” The way you turned red made the hybrid smirk coyly at you. “You mean too much to me to go out in such a lame way, there has to be at least a little bit of bloodshed. Maybe some dismemberment if you’re lucky.”

“Damn and to think I was flattered for half a minute.” Techno chuckled at your comment, a deep rumble in his chest, you couldn’t help but smile yourself. You bit off a piece of bread, teeth tearing through the food easily “Ready to go now?”

“Finish eating then we can go. There’s no rush.”

“Isn’t someone waiting for us?”

“Let them wait,” Technoblade shrugged, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you close. You melted into his warm body closing your eyes, just taking a moment to bask in your love for the Blood God, how did you get so lucky?

Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the same thing about you.

Eventually, you pulled away from him, much to his displeasure, and reluctantly said you both should head out. He huffed in protest and you pecked his lips, assuring him that the long journey would be worth it in the end. You both slide on your winter gear and headed towards Carl in the stables, you scratched the horse’s nose and he whinnied at the attention from his second favorite person. Technoblade tossed him an apple to which he munched on happily before applying his saddlebags to the sides of the horse, he hopped onto him and held a hand out to you. You took the hand with a wild smile swinging your leg over the side of Carl and wrapping your arms around Technoblade’s waist securely. He looked at you over his shoulder and pecked your forehead lightly, you cooed at him in response, and just like that the both of you were off. As you traversed the Tundra, your adoring boyfriend decided it would be a great time to quiz you on your fighting skills. He always did this, especially when he was nervous about something, you concluded a part of him was nervous the deal would go south and you’d end up hurt. You squeezed him a little and answered all his questions in hopes you’d ease his worries, it seemed to work as he relaxed against your chest. You would’ve played with his hair if it wasn’t tied up in a bun, so instead, you settled for giving him gentle kisses on the back of his neck.

He was a wreck by the time you got to the meeting spot, all red-faced and embarrassed. You did feel a little guilty but it was also very entertaining to watch him slide off the horse all frustrated with your antics. “You’re lucky we have somewhere to be,” he vaguely threatened and you hummed,

“What happened to ‘they can wait?’” His red eyes narrowed into slits and Carl stomped his foot, “oh you’re such a party pooper.” You complained as the horse nudged you forward towards the meeting spot. Technoblade huffed now turning his glare on Carl for interrupting your moment. He adjusted the sword at his hip and marched forward expecting you to follow, you did, but it’s the principle that irked you. Walking a little way down the wooded path you came across a man in a beanie leaning against a tree, he had small yellow wings and a scar going from his right eye down to the top of his lip. Your head snapped to Techno and you hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was Quackity! The mother fucker planned your execution!”

“Hush.” He waved you off, “money is money. If he can offer us something good we shouldn’t complain.”

“But-”

“Finally!” The man groaned stretching his arms above his head, his small wings fluttered as he pushed off the tree, “Took you long enough. Who’s your little friend?” He raised an eyebrow at your stature and you glared hotly at him, already wanting to tear his throat out.

“My partner.” Technoblade answered monotonously, “Is that important?”

“Romantically or like your bodyguard.” He snickered at the mental image of the Blood God hiring a bodyguard for himself.

“That’s none of your business.” You snapped, Technoblade’s hand squeezed your shoulder trying to calm you down.

“I suppose not.” Quackity clapped his hands together, his two golden rings bouncing off one another making a soft clicking sound, “let’s get down to business than Mr. Blade. I want the potions you have, what exactly do you want in return?”

“What can you give me?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow, his hand never leaving the bag of potions at his side, Quackity tapped his chin in thought.

“Anything you desire. I came into a… a lot of money recently, a lot of people owe me a few favors. So I can truly give you anything,” Quackity smirked as you noticed Technoblade’s eye twitch, he didn’t like the sound of someone having so much power, and to be honest you didn’t either.

“Huh. well alright then.” He grunted drumming his fingers against the bag, “these favors people owe you, what exactly did you do for them?”

“Are you asking me to spill all my secrets? Techno you dog.” He purred out teasingly, “they made some bets with me and they lost simply as that.”

“What did they lose?” You asked and Quackity rolled his eyes,

“You’re a talker aren’t you?”

“Back off.” Technoblade snarled earning another eyebrow raise from the man, but you did briefly see fear flicker across his eyes. “You talk to them like that again deals off and I take another one of your teeth, understand me.”

“Understood, big guy. No hard feelings.” He held up his hands in defense his tiny wings ruffling a little bit showing off his nervousness, “Although your attitude just proves my point. You’re a brute and you’ll always be a brute.” Technoblade didn’t respond to the harassing but had a feeling you might as the pressure on your shoulder increased. Your jaw was set hard, as Quackity continued, “you truly are more monster than human.”

Oh, he did not just say that to Techno.

In one swift movement, you pulled Technoblade’s sword from its sheath at his side and drew it in front of you, pure anger flooding through your veins. Techno tried to grab the sword before you did something stupid but you were already charging at Quackity. He looked a little frightened as an ax appeared at his side, “Take it back.” You spit as metal clashed against metal, your eyes blazing with unadulterated rage, “Take it back right now. He’s so much more than that.” You swung the sword back which caused Quackity to stumble backward throwing off his rhythm,

“Bite me bitch.” Quackity snapped back attempting to regain his footing as he blocked another blow from you,

“Don’t tempt me birdie.” You sassed right back, which threw him off his game again not expecting you to come back with a retort and a nickname. You kicked him solidly in the chest and he fell flat on his ass the sword swung and the tip dug into his throat. His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped nervously,

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” He sputtered out as you narrowed his eyes, “look I’m sorry okay, okay! My mouth gets the best of me sometimes, I’ll admit that! I’m a humble guy!” You rolled your sharp (e/c) eyes at that statement, “Look, deal still on this time I’ll throw in two gold rings yeah?” He swallowed thickly “Also all the diamond I have on me and in my enderchest.”

Turning to glance at Techno for the first time he cleared his throat looking absolutely flushed. He shifted uncomfortably and marched over to the both of you a hand resting on your lower back. Technoblade glared down at the duck hybrid,

“We don’t want your rings. I want all the money you’ve won from your deals and a god apple.”

“I don’t have-”

“Then think of it as an I.O.U. birdy.” You pursed your lips feeling Technoblade squeeze your back, “Deal?” The tip of the sword dug a little deeper into his throat,

“FUCK! Yes, yes deal!” He squawked and you removed the sword, Technoblade immediately took it from your hands shooting you a look that screamed,

‘We are talking about this later.’

Technoblade tossed the contents of the bag at Quackity and he snatched up all the potions he could shoving them into his chest. Immediately handing you the diamonds he had on him, as Quackity scurried away Technoblade didn’t remove his hand from your back. Once his yellow wings disappeared into the treeline Technoblade spun you around and pressed a kiss to your lips. It immediately stole your breath away, as you stumbled back a few steps.

“That.” He kissed your jaw, “was the hottest,” he kissed your neck next, “thing we’ve seen in a while.” Technoblade purred pressing another passionate kiss to your lips, your hands desperately tried to pull out his hair from his bun to give it a hard yank. A louder purr rumbled from his chest as he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours,

“So the voices liked my badassery too?”

“Oh yeah,” his eyes fluttered a little his breathing hitching, “god they want me to just bite the shit out of you. Mark you all over. You can’t tease them like, they’re sensitive.” You cooed softly tracing his jawline with nimble fingers,

“I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to them once we get home.” His eyes shot up to meet your own lidded ones, with a loud whistle he called Carl over, he scooped you up in his arms causing you to laugh loudly.

You could safely say that was the fastest you and Techno had ever gotten home.

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Irresistable*

Azriel x Reader

* = NSFW. EXPLICIT CONTENT.

Summary: Whilst training with Azriel, you make one too many ‘innocent’ mistakes and his resolve wavers with each one until he can’t take it anymore.

Warning: NSFW, forbidden romance, teasing, shitty writing with no sense, out of character azriel, piece of crap - posting anyway aha

Word Count: 2539

"You need to tighten your core" Azriel instructs, voice soft and unjudgemental but aggravating nonetheless.

"I am tightening" I grit from between my teeth, working with all my waning strength on moving along the balance beam.

Azriel and I had been training only for a couple of weeks now after I'd finally decided I wanted to learn how to defend myself or at least be able to hold my own until I could get to safety. However, my insipid mortal reflexes and strength was making it insanely difficult to learn anything.

Considering my being the remaining mortal sister of the Archerons after thankfully being on a short trip to see a friend at the time my other sisters had been kidnapped and turned, it seemed like an even better idea. Especially to my overprotective older sisters. Sometimes, being the only human around definitely sucked and others, like when my sisters got roped into Fae bullshit...it definitely didn't.

It did really suck I wouldn't find a mate, though. That sounded incredibly...convenient.

"You may think you're engaging your core but you're not" Azriel says, moving slightly closer, his shadows surrounding him in the soft dawn light.

"You know what, if this is so easy then-ah!" I squeal as I fall off the beam, stumbling slightly and gripping the beams surface to keep from slipping as my feet land hard on the floor, ground shock reverberating up my legs, "Ugh, this sucks!"

Azriel chuckles softly, "You'll get it."

"It doesn't feel like it" I grumble

Azriel comes up behind me, placing one large hand across my stomach, pushing against it softly, "You need to act as if you're sucking in your stomach, belly button to spine."

I do exactly that, my stomach concaving in, forcing his hand to slip from my stomach and back to his side and Azriel laughs - a big, joyful chuckle, the loudest I'd ever heard from him.

"Was that a laugh?" I smirk, quirking one eyebrow

"I do laugh, you know."

"Not often...and not around me."

"Focus. We're not here to discuss my social habits. Now, I meant internally. It may sound strange but visualise it in your mind and then pull your stomach in and hold it. You'll feel it."

My smirk slips and I nod, focusing. I do as he instructs and though he is right, it does feel strange, I definitely feel it in my stomach, an odd and uncomfortable tightening sensation as if my stomach was benching a weight.

"Ow" I pout, releasing my stomach, "I don't like that"

"You'll get used to it" Azriel smiles, "Now, come on, back up on the beam and try again"

"Will you catch me if I fall?" I tease, my smirk returning. Though he may be over 200 years older than me, strictly off limits because of his being a completely different and dangerous race from me and completely emotionally unavailable, it didn't mean I couldn't flirt.

"Of course" Azriel responds, tone all business. I roll my eyes slightly as I hop back up onto the beam, one foot in front of the other.

Squeezing my eyes slightly against the pressure, I perform my weird suck-in thing to engage my core, taking a tentative step forward...and finding it suddenly way easier. Gaining confidence, I take another step forward, and then another, each one coming faster and faster until...

"I did it!" I giggle, reaching the opposite end of the beam and jumping off, "I actually did it."

"Well done" Azriel commends, his ice-hewn face slightly broken by a small smile, "Next beam"

"Already?" I gulp, looking over my shoulder. The next beam was higher up then the first, the top of it reaching my chest. I turn back to him, gesturing to the lower one, "Can't I just do this one again?"

Azriel says nothing and I sigh, moving over to the other beam and grabbing a couple step blocks to get up to the beam. Heaving myself up and onto the beam, I wobble softly and a small, startled squeak escapes my lips before I regain my balance.

"You really will catch me, right?" I ask nervously. Again, no response omits from his lips, just a short nod of which I couldn't tell was either actually in answer to my question or instruction to get a move on.

"Okay" I breathe, closing my eyes and stilling my body completely, performing the process of engaging my core slowly, each muscle at a time until I felt so tightly wound even a sharp shove couldn't knock me from my feet.

I take a step forward...then another...and then I slip.

My foot hits the side of the beam wrong and in an effort to stay up, I attempt to pull it back on rather than letting it go and placing it behind my other foot, bending at the knees as I was taught to do and had done many times on the lower beam. I scream and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I tip backward, flailing my arms out as my back heads for the ground.

As if in slow motion, I turn my body as I fall, instinctively positioning to catch my fall with my hands - a rookie mistake. A pair of strong hands encircles my waist as I turn and without thinking I grab onto him, securing my body to his in every way possible to stop my fall. I grunt as one of my feet lands hard on the floor, ground shock again erupting through...one of my feet?

I open my eyes and find myself in the strangest position...Azriel's face was before me, his arm hooked underneath the crook of my right knee, holding the one leg up whilst the other was placed upon the floor as normal, my hips pressed against his.

"You really did fall in the most difficult way possible" Azriel says, voice deep and gravelly...as if straining.

It's then I notice Azriel's stance is crooked, his weight tipped to one side slightly as if weighed down...I gasp and almost send myself flying again as I realise what exactly I'd done in my attempt to escape a painful landing.

My knee was grazing his right wing, my left arm tightly wrapped around his neck with my elbow brushing the inside of his left wing and my right hand was placed entirely on the soft membrane of the inside of his right wing, my fingers splayed across the shimmering surface and pressing lightly onto it, the way one would place their hand on a surface to maintain balance.

Points of contact everywhere with Azriel's wings...Azriel's sensitive wings.

"Oh my...I'm so sorry" I gasp, pulling my leg out of his grasp and removing my arm from his neck, my hand from his wing, until I was standing before him. Closer than I'd ever been before, his eyes boring into mine.

"You couldn't have just fallen backward?" Azriel says, his voice still rough and strained, "I would've caught you."

"I know, I-" I stammer, "I didn't think, I just acted on instinct. I don't know what I was thinking. Are your wings okay?"

"They're fine" Azriel frowns softly, "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Feyre's told me before to be careful of your wings, to make sure I keep away from them because they're really sensitive...are they not?" I redirect as his confused frown deepens.

"They are but not in the way you seem to think" Azriel explains, "It doesn't cause me pain, which by the look on your face, I assume is what you think."

"It's not painful?" I breathe a sigh of relief, "Oh thank the forgotten gods...but if it's not a painful sensitivity, why do you seem so tense? Well, tenser."

"While it's not painful, it is still sensitive. The sensation is hard to explain but it just provokes a different...reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"It's too hard to explain. How about I show you the approximation of what it feels like to a non-winged being and then you tell me the reaction you have."

I nod, a little nervous about the slight gleam in Azriel's eyes, a knowing one...

Leaning forward, Azriel breathes softly into the shell of my ear, lips trailing sensually along the outer edge as his large hand ghosts down my spine in soft, light movements, his fingers barely touching the skin but sending shivers all the way through my body. My eyes go heavy lidded and instinctively, I grip his bicep to hold myself steady, neck tipping back slightly to expose more of my neck as his breath gusts over the sensitive skin, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back to keep me from falling on my ass. A small noise escapes from my throat.

In a lighting fast move, Azriel pulls me to rights and releases me completely, stepping a good few paces back. Breathing heavily, my eyes open and meet his and I imagine our expressions to be almost exact. Flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, chests rising and falling so agonisingly slowly as we attempt to keep our breathing even and failing completely.

"Woah" I breathe, "I definitely get it now."

"You can't do that, Y/N, damn it!" Azriel growls and I straighten further, lust filled haze vanishing.

"Do what?" I gape

"Make me-" Azriel says and then stops himself, "Never mind. Today's session is over"

He turns on his heel to leave but I run after him, meaning to grab his shoulder...and accidentally gracing the back of his wing again.

Damn it, dumbass.

Azriel releases a frustrated growl and whirls on me, pushing me back into a nearby wall, his hands on my waist, eyes staring into mine.

"That"

I was still confused. This was the only time I'd ever touched his wings...

Seeing my confused expression, Azriel presses closer, his body pressed to mine, something hard pressing into my-

Oh.

"I...I wasn't aware I" I stumble over my words, "I wasn't aware it was something I'd done more than once."

"That's a lie and you know it" Azriel huffs, "Stop feigning innocence."

"I'm not feigning anything!" I protest. I truly hadn't meant to turn him on. Now or any other time. Feyre and Nesta and Elain had all made it clear I shouldn't get into it with Azriel...Gods, even Rhys had told me to keep away!, "Why does it even matter? We're both adults, we can just move on from-"

"You don't get it, do you?" Azriel growls, "That I've wanted you every moment from when I first saw you, that Feyre and Rhys gave me this lecture about duty and responsibility and the different race bullshit and ordered me to stay away from you. The only reason I was allowed to train you is because I swore it'd be training and nothing more!"

"I'm...I don't know what to say to you except that I didn't know anything about any of that."

"I swear you're my own personal hell on Earth." Azriel sighs, shaking his head, eyes hard and cold as flint.

"Wow, thanks" I scoff sarcastically, offended, "I wasn't doing anything intentionally."

"That may be even worse" Azriel concedes, "Knowing that anything you did wasn't intentional means if you truly tried to make a move...I would fall at your feet and beg you for just a second of your time. For one moment between-I shouldn't be entertaining this idea."

No, please go on.

"It doesn't help that I can smell you every time you enter a room. It's like you specifically-"

"Wow, so now I smell?" I huff, "Perfect."

"Not that kind of smell. I can smell it on you now."

It?

Well, sure, I was sweaty but I'd just been working out. Although I'd cooled a bit now, with all the slow and steady lust-filled contact we'd had-

Oh...again.

I remember Nesta telling me once to be careful with any time I spent...with myself because the males could smell...

Could smell arousal.

"Oh" I say aloud this time, "That."

"I could swear you would touch yourself before each training session just to drive me insane with what I can't have-damn it, stop it!"

"Well I can't really help my body's reactions when you talk like that" I defend, that warm and tight feeling in my stomach building, eyelids fighting not to fall.

"Try" Azriel suggests weakly.

"If the past few weeks of my unintentional seducing you wasn't proof enough, I clearly can't do that."

"What has been with you recently? You're aroused all the time."

"I don't know" I blush, "I just...have been. Besides, it's not like I have someone I can go to here to...relieve myself of the frustration so I'm all I've got."

Azriel's jaw clenches, eyes ablaze with a hungry fire.

"Why can't we...I mean, why am I so forbidden to you?"

"Feyre and Rhys say...well, I don't know. It doesn't matter about their reasons, their my High Lord and Lady. If they order me to do something, I obey."

"Is that something you can't fight?" I ask, eyes trailing up and down his body, "Like a magical side effect stops you?"

"No, it's an honour thing-" Azriel stops short, recognising my intention, "Okay, I know you're doing this on purpose now"

"So what?" I whisper, "It's not like I'll tell them anything...and there's no one out here to witness for at least a few hours."

"Hours?" Azriel chuckles, "What makes you think you can handle that?"

Cocky now, huh?

"I'm almost certain I probably can't...but I'm more than willing to try."

Azriel's erection grows larger, pressing insistently upon my upper thigh, "Y/N...I can't"

"Yes you can" I say, "Something tells me you're just as good at getting in your own way as Feyre and Rhys are. I'm more than capable of making my own decisions and I would be lying if I said this isn't one of the fantasies I've used to help me out when I'm alone."

The sound of Azriel's teeth grinding against each other makes me smile. I don't know where this sudden confidence came from - perhaps from knowing how badly he also wants this. Maybe it was fate's way of making something that was always supposed to happen, happen. By removing my nervousness and forcing Azriel to think his way out of his own mental purgatories.

Azriel, still fighting his own mental battle, pants softly and I lean forward, trailing a long line up his neck and along his jawline with my tongue. My hand drifts up, reaching for the tender inside of his wing-

"Don't. Do. That" Azriel grits out, hand gripping my wrist and pushing it back against the wall, up above my head, the other arm quickly following, "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Who said I wasn't planning to finish?" I smirk

"Gods, you'll be the death of me" Azriel sighs, leaning closer to me. I could already tell the battle was lost, he was just clinging to the last scraps of will he had left.

"What was that you said earlier? That you would 'fall at my feet and beg for just one moment between...' What were you going to say?" I tease

"Shut the fuck up" Azriel growls, his lips pressing to mine.

Masterlist

[lesbobiwan]

AHHH!! Congratulations my dear💖💕 you fucking deserve them all

Could I ask for 11 with Rex?

<3 <3 thank u my love 🥺

#11: "Bite me." "If you insist." + Rex

501 follower special

You can hear his footsteps following after you.

Stars, that self-righteous, stuck up, cocky little shit just doesn't know when to leave you alone!

"I'm not done with you!" Rex calls after you, picking up the pace until he can reach out and snatch your wrist.

"Hey!"

Rex uses his grip to stop you in your tracks and pull you back towards him.

The strength of his yank has you stumbling backwards, nearly busting your ass on the floor, but you right yourself as quick as possible without his help.

"Listen, Captain," you spit, "you might call the shots out there, but in here I'm in charge. You get hurt, I fix it. Understand?"

Rex nose scrunches as his eyes narrow down at you, "I understand that you're flirting with my men. This is a war," he reminds you, as though you don't deal with shrapnel wounds and the like on a daily basis, "not a nightclub. Do your job, medic."

The nerve of this man!

Hot anger rises up your body, curling around your spinal cord and controlling your every move.

"Flirting?" you repeat, absolutely floored. You can't help but step closer to him, jabbing your finger into his chest plate (ow) with your next words, "I don't know where you get off thinking you can treat me like that, but I do know damn well it'll never happen again. I keep your men alive, so you should be thanking me instead of criticizing me."

Rex's hand snatches your wrist before you can poke at him again, and he pulls you so hard that your front is pressed flush against his armor.

You gasp high in your throat, your other hand coming up to curl around his pauldron to steady yourself.

Rex's hand not around your wrist has found a home on the small of your back, fingers digging in just so in a way that has you arching against him.

"You want me to thank you for flirting with my men?" His voice is low and he's so close that you can feel his hot breath fan across your face. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and your hand readjusts against his shoulder in a way that has nothing to do with keeping balance anymore. "Is that what I'm hearing?"

His fingers tighten against your back, pulling you even tighter to him.

Your anger is sputtering out now, quickly being replaced by a deep set arousal. It's a last ditch effort to stay mad when you spit out, "Bite me."

"If you insist."

Rex's hand leaves your wrist to frame your jaw and tilt your head up as his lips crash down onto yours.

He swallows down your gasp, nipping at your bottom lip before starting to press scalding kisses down your jawline until he's breathing hot against your neck.

Your moan catches in your throat as you tilt your head back, allowing him as much access as he needs.

Rex's teeth scrape against your neck in a goosebump-bringing warning before he sinks his teeth into the junction where your shoulder meets your neck.

The pain that sings along your nerves has you keening, and the sound echos embarrassingly through the less-than-stellar medcamp. You sag against him before your knees can fail you completely.

"Rex," you gasp, finally tugging your hand free from his grasp and raking it through his short cropped hair.

His own hand in your hair tilts your head this way and that, manipulating your neck into what position he likes best to keep trailing bites up your neck.

The hand at the small of your back urges you closer, and one armored thigh slips between your legs.

It's presumptuous and arrogant, and you open your mouth to tell him so, but all that comes out is a ragged moan as you drag your clothed cunt across his thigh plate.

Rex's lips curl into a smile against your neck, "Was that all you needed, huh? Someone to put you in your place?"

"Fuck you," you breathe, still shamelessly rutting against his thigh.

Rex hums, still against your skin, and the vibrations have you gasping. "I think I'd much rather fuck you." His hand leaves your hair and slips down your front until his fingers toy with your waistband.

All at once both of his hands leave you and he steps back.

You nearly buckle without the support of his body holding you up. "Rex," you whine, eyes fluttery and a little damp.

"Bend over."

"What?"

Rex's eyes flick to your desk behind you. "Bend over."

It only takes you a second. One second to make sure Rex isn't fucking with you before you surge into action, shoving anything not essential off and to the floor before you fold yourself over it.

You feel ridiculously exposed like this, bent over and waiting for something.

Rex murmurs something behind you, something like a prayer, before you hear the thunk of his codpiece hitting the ground.

Your breath hitches as footsteps come closer and you jump completely when a hand drags up the back of your thigh.

"Fuck, you're a sight," Rex breathes, and his earlier anger has vanished and been replaced with a certain reverence.

Your cheeks flush at the intimacy. "Are you actually gonna fuck me, or do you just want to watch?" There isn't any of the bite you had wished for. In fact, you sound embarrassingly needy.

Rex huffs but he hooks both hands into the waistband of your pants and underwear, and you lift your hips up to let him drag them down your legs.

You squirm against the desk, hiding your face in the crook of your neck as Rex curses behind you.

The air conditioning of the room has your exposed cunt clenching against the cold.

"Shit," Rex hisses, dragging two fingers down your slit, "You're soaked, pretty girl."

You cant your hips back into him, too desperate to be ashamed.

Arousal curls your toes and you can feel the slick that coats your thighs.

"Captain, if you don't stick your dick in me now, I'll gladly find someone who will," you spit over your shoulder.

There still isn't any genuine bite in your voice, but you still mean what you said.

You're not in the mood for Rex to take it slow. You want to feel the stretch and the burn of his cock pushing inside you.

A sound, low and guttural, escapes Rex's throat, and almost instantly two fingers spread your lips apart.

"I was gonna make this nice for you," Rex pants, one hand holding you open and exposed while the other pulls his cock out of his blacks. "Take it nice and slow and fuck you like you deserved,"

He presses the tip of his cock to your fluttering hole, and your breath catches in your throat at how big it feels.

"But I don't think you deserve nice," Rex continues, pressing just the head inside of you.

Your forehead drops to the table as he presses himself inside you. Rex is thick, and his cock splits you open like he's trying to tear you apart.

"No, I think you deserve it just like this," Rex thrusts the rest of his cock inside you until he bottoms out with a low grunt.

You sob around his cock, relishing in the stretch and the barely there burn as he sets a punishing pace.

The armor of his thighs smack against your ass until you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you'll have bruises.

Rex's body folds over yours, enveloping you under his weight as he presses hot kisses up your back to the nape of your neck.

One of Rex's hands slide around to your front to rub slow circles into your clit, a complete 180 from the devastating way he fucks you.

Your hand flies behind you, scrambling for any type of purchase as Rex seems damn determined to fuck you through the table.

Rex's free hand snags yours and tangles your fingers together.

"You flirt with my boys like you don't know you're mine," Rex hisses, teeth sinking into the meat of your neck.

He's branding you, you manage to string together a coherent thought, but it makes you tremble around his cock. There will be no doubt by the time he's done with you that you're his and he'll be yours.

"Are you gonna cum for me mesh'la?" Rex asks, picking his head up until his lips brush against your ear.

"Please!" you wail, tightening your grip on his hand as your orgasm builds in your gut. Tears squeak from your eyes, soaking into the chipped wood of the desk.

Rex presses a soft kiss into your jaw, a dizzying juxtaposition to how he fucks you, and finally speeds up his fingers on your clit. "Cum."

You shatter apart around him, soaking his cock and trembling on the desk.

Rex's cock pulls out, and you can't even hear the slick sound of skin on skin over your own panting, but you gasp at the hot streaks of cum that splatter against the small of your back.

Rex's forehead drops to the space between your shoulder blades. His breath is hot against your skin, and the hand still holding yours squeezes twice before he pushes himself off you.

The quiet of the room is disrupted only by both of your heavy breathing. You can't even push yourself onto your elbows, instead deciding to stay sprawled across the desk.

"Yours huh?" you finally say, peering at the captain from over your shoulder.

"Yeah," Rex shrugs and rests a heavy hand over one of the many bite marks littering your body, "mine."

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽. 2)

 character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader 

a/n: ok so i just started writing on tumblr and honestly in my opinion for my first time posting smth on this the first part did really well thank u for all the likes :) (told from second pov; e.g you, your) reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: a lil bit angsty 

warnings: cursing, jealousy, mutual pining, slow burn romance, aged-up to third year, love triangle (square?), physical injuries, kirishima gets a little toxic, also shirtless bakugou (awooga), a crap ton of time skips bc i can’t write action scenes for shit, bakugou is a flirt (lowkey but yeah), mentions of blood 

word count: 2112

pt 1 , pt 3

- - - 

kirishima had broken the skin on his lower lip with how hard he was biting it. he stood in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth, ignoring the slight sting the water brought. 

y/n was currently being blasted by bakugou, and they were fighting back. 

jealousy panged in his chest. 

bakugou had never let him know about how he felt about you, however kirishima was sure he felt something for them. you and bakugou were both a jumble of prideful and longing stares towards each other from across every room. the tension was thick enough to slice through. and while kirishima would never make a move in fear of ruining the friendship between him and bakugou, as well as him and y/n, gosh it didn’t stop him from wanting to. 

he’d stood on the side, cheering you on to no end. the sports festival last year, the year before that, training exercises, he was always there. kirishima was always there. 

whenever you needed him, whenever you wanted his company. so what did bakugou have over him? sure, the blond was strong and had bigger goals than kirishima, but why should that matter? 

what did bakugou have? why would you want him more when he was never near you? never made an effort to see you to be there when you asked for help. 

it was popular belief that bakugou was a noisy idiot, but he was actually quite a quiet boy. he didn’t bother to raise his hand in class, however he always knew the answer. he spoke rarely and only made conversation with those he was close with if they were the ones to make the effort to converse with him first. 

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. kirishima despised it. 

whenever did he begin wanting to beat bakugou at something? 

the cloud of guilt welling up in his chest was going to become unbearable, and soon everything he ever wanted to say was going to come up like word vomit at the worst possible time. 

- 

you swiped at your cheek, brushing off the crumbling dirt. your timing had been off, and their flip backwards had landed you in an awkward position. a vulnerable one. 

honestly, though, it wasn’t like it really mattered. bakugou was a bit transparent himself. he wore a smug look like a golden medal, and held back his power just enough to keep you on your feet. 

his cocky attitude was irritating and it drew you in like a moth drawn to a lamp. 

sweat was beading down your temple. the day was exceptionally hot, the sun beaming down on your back like a proud child. 

you and bakugou had been at it for a while. with anyone else, you would have quit by now. it’s not that you gave up easily. no, not ever. but fights could get boring, especially if you were just smashing away at them with your quirk and they were acting like they could take it. 

perhaps you were being cocky. 

this fight, though. this was interesting. not only because it was bakugou; also because you knew so little about him. 

it was likely he never shared anything important to anyone. he was quite introverted. 

it was interesting for another reason. 

it was hot, bakugou sweats a lot. gosh, he looked delicious without a shirt on. he had a built figure accompanied by strong arms and a broad chest. 

he’d filled out quite nicely the past few years. you hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d grown. 

“don’t get distracted.” 

your eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes. bakugou became a blur, shooting himself off the ground and flipping once in the air before propelling himself back down. 

before you could do anything, bakugou had you pinned, one leg pinning yours, both his hands wrapped around your wrists. he’d ditched his gauntlets, leaving the metal assistants in the sweltering heat, claiming he wanted to give you an equal fight. 

he panted atop you, hands tightening. 

tokage didn’t bother to leave her dorm today, thank goodness. it had just been the three of you. you, bakugou, and kirishima. 

the red head had suspiciously vanished halfway through the fight, though.

bakugou’s crimson eyes bored into yours. neither of you blinked for a moment. perhaps just a small eternity each of you silently reveled in. 

his erratic breaths slowed, and so did yours, although you stayed the same. unmoving, faces neutral but eyes giving away long-held secrets. 

your ears flushed, and butterflies came rising up uncontrollably. you should have pushed him off. instead you gave him a wicked grin, which earned a look from him and you couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed. 

“your big ass forehead is blocking the bright-as-hell sun. stay like this,” you mocked, wrenching your wrists from his grasp and snaking your arms around his neck. 

his cheeks burned red. “w-what?” 

“you heard me.” 

he scoffed, tugging you off his neck and standing. “shut up, shitface. we aren’t even done yet.” he readied himself in a fighting stance once more. 

“i thought you said you wanted to stop when you won?” you brushed yourself off as you stood. 

“i know what i said. you probably weren’t even giving it your all.” 

“’course i was.” you cocked your head. “why wouldn’t i?” 

“you’re strong, damn idiot.” 

you feigned surprise, pressed a hand to your fluttering chest. “the bakugou, dynamight himself, complimenting a humble soul like me? oh, i really must be good, then.” 

“not as good as me.” his face dropped from a smile. bakugou never got enough training no matter how early or late he stayed up, or how many hours on the weekends were spent kicking a bag or sparring with friends. hard workers did all of the work there was a still wondered if they were doing enough. the number one spot wasn’t empty, but it was still reserved for dynamight. 

- 

y/n had collapsed on their bed. kirishima was itching to tell them how he felt, however he was stuck at the doorway. 

they weren’t even dressed for bed, nor were they showered. 

he settled with leaving his friend alone, and shut the door softly to find bakugou standing right behind him. 

kirishima jumped back, closing his eyes in relief. “bakugou. what the heck man?” 

“you’re creepy as shit.” 

“i- what? you were the one staring at me while i-” 

“while you peeped in on y/n?” 

“i wasn’t peeping. i walked them back after the fight and they just collapsed. you were off doing something else and you worked them too hard.” 

it wasn’t a shock that bakugou was still riled up from the duel. this boy had the energy of a mad man. 

when bakugou didn’t say anything, kirishima said once again, “you overworked them.” 

bakugou swat away the comment. “only because they’re not working hard enough.” 

kirishima raised an eyebrow. “they work hard. they’re perfectly fine.” 

“fine?” 

“they’re amazing.”

“i know that, shitty hair. you think i’m blind?” 

“everyone can make improvements at their own pace.” kirishima’s voice dropped. 

“you train with me.” 

“it’s an hour before curfew.” 

bakugou jut a thumb in the direction of the door. “so? maybe you need some more practice, too,” he joked. 

“you’re an ass, bakugou,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle. 

the two wandered off to one of the training grounds. it was open, a wide court where they’d both kicked someone else’s ass. 

the sun was just setting, a new cool breeze coming to fill the spot of the violent sun rays. 

it was routine to fight each other out of nowhere. kirishima was usually quite playful, spewing jokes once in a while and taunting his friend. 

this fight was different. his face was stone-cold. kirishima often took the defensive role, as his quirk didn’t allow him to project any direct attacks to bakugou.

it wasn’t like kirishima was angry at bakugou, but as soon as they started charging towards one another, he couldn’t hold back. his chest tightened, arms hardening and joints becoming strong and stiff. 

with one clean sweep of his arm, bakugou was backing away from kirishima, propelling himself to the edge of the arena with a small blast. he’d always been up for a challenge. kirishima was willing to give him one. 

his sudden competitive demeanor seemed to be egging on bakugou’s. the blond tongued the inside of his cheek, grunting as he shot forth, hair flying wildly. 

swiftly, kirishima dodged, just barely missing a blast. his torso wasn’t hardened, so if he’d dodged any later, his stomach would have been scorched. 

bakugou always took their fights seriously. he knew better than to underestimate the boy who had put together his very own rescue mission. 

kirishima’s opponent stumbled from the momentum. he took his chance and brought a hardened elbow down on bakugou’s back, hearing a satisfying crack. 

bakugou was crushed to the ground with the hit. his face smashed into the sandy ground. he coughed, turning over and spitting dirt to the side. 

it took a moment for him to register what he did, but kirishima was at bakugou’s side within seconds. the sun was nearly gone, a pale blue sky flickering with the first sights of stars. 

it was hard to make it out at first, but not impossible. kirishima saw the blood dripping and smeared just above bakugou’s lip. he groaned, cupping his face in both hands as he sat upright. 

“argh” bakugou gasped. “shit, kirishima. what the hell?” 

“i...i’m sorry dude, i didn’t mean to.” i wanted to, but i didn’t mean to. 

bakugou raised an eyebrow and let a smile seep through his pain. “you’re improving, though.” 

“are you alright?” kirishima traced the small cut on his lip from earlier with the tip of his tongue. 

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” bakugou swatted his hand away. he struggled to get up, refusing kirishima’s help. 

“we should head back before this gets any worse.” 

bakugou kept his large hands hovering under his chin to catch the dripping and occasional chunks of blood.  

although he wanted the duel to continue (it was finally interesting) bakugou wasn’t stubborn enough to keep going. so he nodded, once again denying kirishima’s efforts to help him out. 

- 

you were in the common area, fiddling with a rubik’s cube. it was just you, as everyone else was spending the night among each other. ashido had invited you to her dorm a while ago, but you’d denied, wanting to spend a few more giddy moments to yourself. 

the door rattled, and in came your two friends, one with furrowed brows and the other with blood drenching the front of his shirt. 

bakugou’s head was tilted up in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing down. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood trailing down the back of his throat. 

“oh my gosh,” you gasped out, racing to the bathroom. you came back with sanitary wipes in one hand and tissue in the other. “what happened?” 

“we were training,” kirishima started, taking a few tissues from the box and handing them to his friend, “and i accidentally hit him too hard.” 

“you didn’t hit me that hard. you barely did any damage!” bakugou objected. you approached him, and through his fingers, bakugou peered down at you. 

you asked him with your eyes, and he gave you silent permission to pry his arms away from his face. “are you okay?” 

“i’m just dandy,” he scoffed. 

“dude, i’m really sorry—” 

“shut the hell up kirishima. i don’t want your pity. i swear this is the only time i’ll surrender to you, you asswipe.”

you didn’t laugh, not even a chuckle. “bakugou, you need to see recovery girl.” 

“what the hell? no way. all she’s gonna do is give me one of those shitty slobbery kisses and scold me for being careless.” 

“your nose is broken,” you said gently. 

“so? can’t you fix it?” 

you raised a questioning brow. “you want me to help you?” 

“can you or can you not?” 

“i can try to set it but you’re better off going to recovery girl instead of settling with―” 

“all i need is possible. i don’t want to deal with that old lady’s shit right now.” using the tissues kirishima had stuffed into his hand, he caught the remaining blood dripping down his nose. “let’s go.” 

you were more than unsure. he would end up with a crooked nose if you made any small mistake, but he didn’t think twice as he grabbed your shoulder and led you in the direction of your dorm. 

- 

kirishima wished he hadn’t broken bakugou’s nose. not because he felt bad, though. 

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Gains

Poly Sons of Ipswich x Reader

Word Count: 2,802

Summary: Trying to take advantage of their gym membership, reader starts working with a devastatingly attractive personal trainer. And his friend is pretty hot, too.  

The gym was still new for you but you had been coming consistently enough that you felt comfortable there. You knew what times equipment would be available and what times the crowds would be too much (week days 3-5:30 was like competing in the Hunger Games.)

Cardio always came before strength exercises because your muscles would be too fatigued otherwise. 

And on Tuesdays and Saturdays they played your favorite music on the loud speakers so you didn’t have to bother with headphones on those days.

Still, you weren’t an expert by any means. 

In fact, you were still hesitant to call yourself a gym-goer because you’d seen the workouts other people did and you definitely weren’t doing that. There was no strategy, you just did what you felt like doing on any given day. You were impressed by their discipline though.

Maybe, most likely, it would benefit you to incorporate some of that into your own routine.

The gym had a personal trainer program and you figured that would be the best bet—much easier than trying to figure it out on your own.

Poking around the website, you found the section that explained the process. The design was modern and intuitive, and it was easy to book an appointment: the only information you needed to provide was your name, the date/time, and what trainer you wanted.

The first two things were easy to fill out but the last had you a little stumped; you weren’t familiar enough with any of the trainers to request anyone by name even with the drop-down menu that listed out all of the choices. For a second, you were tempted to forget about the whole thing but luckily, there was an option for ‘no preference’ and anxiety levels dropped off as you selected it.

Appointment booked, you went on with the rest of your night, focus shifting to what sounded good to eat for dinner.

A week later, you found yourself in the gym’s front lobby, arms crossed and foot tapping. Since it was the first time, there was no harm in arriving early. The directions on the website had said to wait there for the trainer but so far there was no sign of them. Granted, there was still five minutes until the scheduled start so it would be unfair to start complaining about them just yet.

Rolling your neck to alleviate some of the tension, you paused mid-stretch, neck awkwardly craned like a gaggling turkey, when a man walked out. He was without a doubt the most attractive man you’d seen at the gym to date.

Thick dark hair that curled just above his ears. Warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile. Tanned skin that wrapped around arms that had just the right amount muscle: toned but not bulky. All in all, a good looking man.

You tracked him as he glanced around the area, looking for something—his eyes suddenly met yours and you straightened up in embarrassment—or someone. “Y/N?” he questioned.

You throat was so dry, it was painful to swallow. “That’s me.”

It didn’t seem possible but his smile grew even brighter. He stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Caleb and I’ll be your trainer today.”

Good karma most certainly at work here. How else could you explain being lucky enough to have the hottest guy in the gym be the trainer? Whatever the case, you weren’t going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

He gestured you forward with a wave of his hand and followed you to the main workout area. There was slight pressure to staying cool and collected with him behind you. 

“I’m going to start you off with some jogging to warm-up. Do you want to use the track or hop on a treadmill?”

“Treadmill is fine. It’s what I normally use.”

You stepped up onto the belt and fiddled with the settings to establish a pace you felt comfortable with. The machine started up with a loud hum and your arms and legs began to pump. Normally, you’d have your earphones in to distract yourself with music but they weren’t that day so that you could hear Caleb if he said anything to you.

Good thinking, really, since he did indeed start chatting.

“So how long have you been a member?” he asked.

Determined not to sound steady, you took a few moments to normalize your breathing. “About two months. But this is the first time I’ve worked with a professional,” you added at the end.

It was hard to hear his laugh over the treadmill but the hitching of his shoulders gave him away. “Thanks, but I’m not really a professional. I just have a training certification is all.”

Huh. Attractive and humble. If you weren’t careful, you’d develop a full-blown crush in no time.

“A certification sounds professional to me,” you insisted. There. That wasn’t flirty at all. You were merely sharing an opinion.

Jogging passed by faster than it usually did even without music. Evidently, all that was needed to make a run enjoyable was good conversation and an even better view. 

You powered off the treadmill and gradually transitioned to a walk and then a full stop. A single bead of sweat trailed down the side of your face but before you could wipe it away, only to stumble after being patted on the back by Caleb. 

Those muscles were not just for show.

You had mixed feelings about him giving you props for completing the warm up. On one hand, you were a little insulted because even you could handle jogging for ten minutes. On the other, it was nice to have him flatter you. And he seemed to type to mean his compliments.

“Thanks,” you said almost like a question as you plopped down to stretch.

“Really,” he insisted. There wasn’t any level of patronizing tone that you could detect. “You’d be surprised by how many people I work with that complain about running.”

“Really?” you exclaimed with surprise. “I wouldn’t say I love running but it’s not terrible. Better than swimming anyway.”

“Whoa, now. I’ll have you know that I was a big swimmer in high school.”

The friendly banter about the woes, or in his case, the highs of swimming got you through the stretches he showed you. Occasionally, there would be a pause while he corrected your posture but once you fixed your position, the banter started up again.  

Finally, you conceded, “I will admit that swimming did wonders for your shoulders though.”

He looked away with a bow of his head. He smiled but it was closed lipped, no teeth on display. Oops. That comment may have been a bit too forward. Rather than draw more attention to it, you diverted attention to the actual work out.

Seeming to be of the same mind, Caleb dropped it, too, and set you up at a weight bench. He must’ve have seen the doubt on your face.

“Don’t worry,” he assured. “I’m not going to have you squatting 300 pounds or anything crazy. Here. Take this and we’ll start with some dumb bell rows.”

He handed you a twenty-pound weight, the smooth metal cool against your palm. The weight was noticeable but not so heavy you struggled to hold it. A month or two of this and your arms would actually tone out pretty nice.

You peered subtly at Caleb behind you. You wouldn’t be at Caleb’s level, not just after a couple weeks but then again, you doubted most people could measure up to him even after working out everyday for a year straight.

Someone people had all the good genes.

You could’ve complained but found it much more enjoyable to appreciate the good view. In fact, it was the view that got you through the rest of the season.

“Thanks,” you panted around the mouth of your water bottle. A bead of sweat ran down your neck and you reached to wipe it off.

“You did great, really,” he said, the epitome of what a good trainer should sound like. “The scariest step is always to start so signing up for additional personal training will be a piece of cake.”

“Y-yeah.” Suddenly, your shoe laces fascinated you. “So…if I want to do that—more of this...do I choose you on from that list of trainers?”

“Sure thing. Or if you’d prefer to try someone else, all of the trainers are fantastic choices.”

“I think I’ll stick with you. As long as that’s not weird or anything…”

“Nope, not weird.”

You worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Swirling irises of molten brown, you couldn’t help but be drawn into them. “Same time next week then?”

“Same time next week,” he agreed with a nod.

***

It had been a little over a month since you had started working with Caleb at the gym and what had started as one personal training session a week had turned into two, sometimes three. Improvement was happening steadily and you definitely felt a difference in your stamina.

Strangely enough, you were even proud of the small callouses that were starting to develop on the tops of your palms, under the fingers. They weren’t classically beautiful but at least you had proof of the work you were doing.

Having worked up the confidence, you’d also started doing some of the exercises Caleb showed you on your own. It was on one such day that you met him.

Another gym babe.

The first thing you noticed was his ass. Literally. He was in prime squat position and his short, though knee length and loose as they may be, could not hide his toned glutes.

You were embarrassed to admit that you were totally ogling him, like a dog looked at a prime cut of meat. You didn’t get star struck often, but damn.

The universe must have sought to punish you for the lack of propriety and your mp3 slipped through your sweaty fingers onto the moving treadmill, yanking the earphones out of your ears along with it as it flew backwards on the conveyor belt.

Recovering from the stumble your mp3 caused, you turned off the machine and gingerly picked out the music player, preparing for the worst.

Miraculously, the screen was still in tact and sounds was still coming through the earphones. You took another sigh of relief when you realized he was preoccupied by his own workout and hadn’t seen your embarrassing moment.

Something similar happened the next time you saw him a few days later: he was cooling down after having thoroughly trounced the heavy bag in the small boxing set-up the gym had. His arms looked so good in his cut-off tank (muscles and veins were all on display) that you froze with your mouth hanging wide open.

Another gym-goer did catch you that time but at least it wasn’t the god sculpted from marble.

You almost felt bad, like you were cheating on one of your crush’s with another which was ridiculous because Caleb was just a trainer and you didn’t even know the other one’s name.

Who knew that so much drama could happen in the confines of a simple neighborhood gym? Seriously, The Bachelor wished it could have as many good options as the gym seemed to.

***

You huffed as you pushed yourself up on increasing shaky arms. For a few seconds, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to do it as your arms got stuck at a forty-five degree angle. Digging deep down, you managed to fully extend your arms.

“Nine,” Caleb counted. He was kneeling besides you on the yoga mat, counting, and adjusting your form here and there, while you did push-ups

Rather than descend slowly as was proper for push-ups, you collapsed to the mat with your arms squished underneath your chest. Rolled your head, you gave him your best pleading eyes and hoped he might take mercy.

That hope was misplaced. He gave a sympathetic smile and shook his head negatively. “Sorry, Y/N. We agreed on ten and by my count, you still have one more to go.”

“Can I not and say that I did?”

“Come on now. It’s only one more.” He waved his hands around like he was waving imaginary pom-poms. “You can do it!”

You managed a weak laugh. There was no way you could’ve say no. Your arms felt like they were burning but he looked adorable trying to be a cheerleader. An unbidden image of him wearing a cute male cheerleading uniform flashed in your mind and you thought he would pull one off well, what with his wide shoulders and sculpted legs.

Imagination got you through the last push-up and you groaned as you turned over on the mat, spread out like a star fish. “That was absolute torture.”

Caleb opened his mouth but was interrupted by a newcomer.

“Geez, man. You need to take it easier on your clients.”

Recognizing the voice, you found the other gym guy you’d been eyeing standing above you.

“Pogue.” Caleb held his fist out to the man who in turned bumped his with the trainer’s. Evidently, they knew each other.

Then they embraced in a full-on hug.

Okay, so they definitely knew each other. And it was hard to miss the parting caress to Pogue’s shoulders—what kind of name was Pogue anyway?—that was generally reserved for two people that were close.

Were they related? Dating, perhaps?

Your imagination fired up again and you wondered what they would look like wrapped even more intimately with one another…which was entirely despicable, you reminded yourself. There was no proof they were romantically involved, and, even if they were, it was none of your business.

The other two, who had been talking while you were maladaptively fantasizing, had continued talking and their conversation now turned to you.

“So who’s this?” Pogue questioned politely.

“This is Y/N,” Caleb introduce you. “They’re one of the people I work with.”

Pogue stuck his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad Caleb hasn’t killed you off yet.”

“Hey! I am extremely fair with workouts, aren’t I, Y/N?”

“He is,” you said with a small smile, rocking on your feet. “Besides, he way too nice to ever become a drill sergeant.”

Pogue shoved Caleb lightly and Caleb elbowed him in return. “I know he doesn’t look like the type, but he was quite the drill sergeant back when we were both swimmers. He just hides the competitive instinct under his charming smiles.”

That peaked your curiosity. “No way, you guys swam together back in the day?”

“Spencer Academy was state champs three years running in our time,” Caleb admitted. “But nowadays I do my thing with personal training and Pogue more into MMA.”

“MMA?” you questioned.

“Mixed Martial Arts,” Caleb supplied. “You’ve probably seen him hogging the punching bags in the back.”

You most certainly had but you weren’t about to confess that to either of them. It would be too embarrassing and might even toe the line of harassment.

“You are more than welcome to share bags with me, any time,” Pogue grinned teasingly.

A thought hit and flowed out of your mouth before you could stop it. “You guys should give me a lesson sometime.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were interested in that sort of thing,” Caleb said, surprise coloring his voice.

“Are you saying that you don’t think I can?” You weren’t sure what made you say it. It’s not like you were hardcore dedicated to trying it. 

Whatever the cause it had Pogue chiming in save the situation.

“What prince charming means is that we would love to give a demonstration sometime.”

Caleb down at his watch because of course he still wore one instead of just using his phone like most other people. “Damn. Our hour is up Y/n and I’m late getting my next client. But we can hit the punching bags next time, if you want…?”

“Sure. Uh. Does Wednesday work for you?”

Both of the men nodded and Caleb called over his shoulder as he jogged to the lobby. “It’s a date. Schedule it online and I’ll approve it.”

The word kept replaying over and over. Date. Date. Date, date, date. He probably didn’t even mean it like that but it didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

Waving goodbye to Pogue wit a promise of seeing him next week, you bounced off to grab your phone from the locker room. There was nothing wrong with scheduling your next session ASAP.

It’s a date.

_______________

Pogue boxing does make a fetching image. Pogue and Caleb in the ring sparring together even more so. Debating whether to make a part 2. 

Caleb always seems to be the hardest for me to write so I hope he sounded okay in this. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I decided to finally post it. 

Thanks for reading! 

[a-girl-must-have-a-new-name]

All of the times Naruto knew she danced and the one time he didn't.

A/N: I've really wanted to write some Naruto fics for a while now but just haven't found the inspiration for it. Not sure how many I'll write but I hope to make a collection of these

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Naruto knew Hinata could dance it was on a mission. It was just a few months after the war. Hinata and Shikamaru were assigned as his mission partners to ensure that the diplomatic hero tour (as Kakashi had called it) would go off without a hitch. It had been a long mission, one that Naruto was slightly uncomfortable with. Sure he loved traveling and meeting friends but it felt silly to be paraded around villages like he was the only hero of the war. As though others didn’t help. As though others hadn’t died. Still, having Hinata and Shikamaru there with him made the trip worthwhile.

It was the day before one of the first grand parties to be held in Naruto’s honor. People from all over the land had gathered. All wanting to be a part of the festivities, with many young women hoping to catch the eye of the hero. Naruto felt a slight panic when the Daimyo slapped him on the back telling him how lucky he would be dancing all night.

Naruto looked pleadingly over his shoulder towards Shikamaru begging for help but the man barely shrugged before turning away. Though Naruto thought he caught the lazy bastard smiling at his misfortune. He was about to call the genius out when a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“Naruto-kun, if you need help I can teach you some basic steps.” Hinata smiled at him encouragingly, causing warmth to spread in Naruto. Hinata was always there to save his ass. Grinning brightly to show his appreciation he grabbed her hand in his and led her away. Once they found a quiet and more importantly private area Hinata stepped closer calmly explaining what a waltz was.

“Naruto- kun in a waltz there are three steps. a forward step, a side step, then together.” Hinata demonstrated the steps to Naruto going over it a few times until he felt comfortable enough to try it himself.

“That’s correct Naruto-kun. Now after you bring your feet together you will go backward so step back with the right foot- just like that. Now bring your left foot back. Good. This time however it’s going to swing back to the side where you first started. Now bring the right foot to follow.” Hinata and Naruto stood side by side as she walked the steps with him, letting him get comfortable with the footing, gently nudging his foot to the correct step when there was confusion. Once he felt confident he had memorized the steps Hinata stepped in front of him, trying to ignore the light blush that was forming.

“Naruto-kun, I think we should practice as partners now, but only if you are comfortable.”

“I’m always comfortable with you Hinata-chan! You’re the best-ttebayo!” Hinata’s face was entirely red by now but she chose to ignore the heat. Instead, she continued on, showing him the arm positions while trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat when his arm came across her back.

Focusing on the warmth his other hand provided in hers. Hinata began showing him the rotations. It took quite a while to get the hang of. Especially when Naruto faltered as Hinata went to step backward when he went forward. He panicked thinking he had messed up the steps he stumbled over himself to fix it. Causing both skilled shinobi to fall. Naruto grabbed Hinata tightly around the waist, rotating them so that he landed on the ground and Hinata was cradled safely into his chest. Both stayed laying like that for perhaps a second longer than needed, Naruto once more unconsciously giving the woman a gentle squeeze before letting go quickly an embarrassed and apologetic smile on his face as he began to apologize.

“I’m so sorry Hinata-chan I didn’t mean to do that I swear! I just forgot and didn’t know if I was supposed to keep going forward or follow you!”

“No Naruto-kun it was my fault for not explaining better, you were going the right way, women have different steps to follow in the dance.”

“No! You’re great at explaining all this! really! I should have just trusted what you had told me and done that. I’m really sorry Hinata-chan but I promise I’ll get it!”

“It’s ok Naruto-kun it’s your first time, it is only natural to be nervous. I know you’ll get the hang of it. It’s our nindo, remember?” Hinata’s smile was so genuine and bright Naruto had to look away for a moment, her words lingering even after she had said them.

Our nindo.

Naruto felt a spark of energy soar through him and wondered if Kurama also felt motivated by Hinata’s words. Jumping back onto his feet Naruto stretched out his hand to Hinata. A fire burning behind his blue eyes as he clasped her hand once more. Pulling her up and even closer to him than before.

“Let’s try again-ttebayo!”

“H-hai!”

It was the evening of the party and Shikamaru and Naruto were walking around the ballroom together.

“Would you quit messing with it?” Shikamaru whispered in annoyance.

“I can’t help it, everything feels tight!” Naruto whined as he shifted the collar of his outfit. (A gift from the daimyo) and let out a string of curses. He felt like he was suffocating. Glancing over at his friend he felt envy, the Nara had on a much simpler version of his own outfit and it seemed that the man opted for his own undershirt rather than the constrictive piece of material that Naruto was currently wearing. Sighing the blonde adjusted the collar one final time before giving up and pouting.

“Hinata would feel sorry for me”

“Then go complain to her.”

“Tch- you know she said she would be arriving later.” Naruto had been excited to see Hinata. However, one of the daimyo’s servants had stopped at Naruto and Shikamaru’s room informing them that Hinata had sent a message letting them know that her own dress hadn’t arrived and that she would be a few minutes later than the boys.

That was an hour ago and Hinata still hadn’t shown up. Naruto was itching to go and find her, worried something had happened. Though also just wanting an excuse to escape from the boredom that was the party. However, before he got the chance the Daimyo entered the grand room from a balcony up above.

“Thank you all for gathering tonight to celebrate the end of the war and the prosperity we shall gain from it!" The daimyo smiled down at the cheering crowd, puffing his chest out like he was the reason such prosperity would come about. Still, Naruto was smart enough to keep from rolling his eyes. clapping in approval of the words.

"So tonight I ask that everyone enjoy the entertainment and food. Let the dancing begin!" It was like the Daimyo had opened the flood gates suddenly it seemed that every woman in the room had turned their attention onto Naruto. Many already trying to form a line to get to him.

S-Shikamaru I can’t dance with all of these girls, that's impossible!”

“Naruto you’ll be fine, you’ve worked hard.” A different softer voice spoke out, causing Naruto to jump. Spinning around wildly, he spotted Hinata who had quietly taken her place beside Shikamaru.

“Hinata -chan!”

“I apologize for being late, it took longer than anticipated to get ready.” an embarrassed blush adorned her face as she bowed towards her two friends for her tardiness. Shikamaru waved it off while Naruto looked appalled.

“Don’t apologize Hinata! It’s not your fault the daimyo is using us for advertisement!” It was true, these outfits were a blatant excuse to get the textiles out into the public eye, and what better way to show off your country's goods than to have them paraded around on the most popular attraction. Though as Naruto eyed Hinata’s dress he couldn’t help the irritating though that the Daimyo had requested this specific dress on Hinata for a more lewd reason. Though the dress was far from indecent, the low scooping back and the form-fitted top were far more revealing than anything Naruto had ever seen on his friend.

Old daimyo is just another perv. he thought darkly but he still couldn’t help the thought that she looked really pretty. Naruto was just about to tell her this when a woman stepped forward grabbing Naruto’s arm tightly.

“Naruto-senpai please dance with me!” the young girl Naruto realized was one of the shinobi who had met their squad at the gates of the capital.

“I-”

“Just get on with it. The sooner you do it, the sooner we can leave.” Shikamaru whispered as he shoved Naruto towards the dance floor. Naruto stumbled but caught himself. He turned his head back planning to give Shikamaru a dirty look but stopped when he saw Hinata. Though she was still smiling there was a sad look in her eyes. Belatedly Naruto realized he probably should have asked Hinata for the first dance. After all, she had helped him so much. As he was dragged to the dance floor and could feel his dance partner feeling up his muscles, he couldn’t help but wish it was Hinata in his arms instead.

It had been a few hours and Naruto felt like his feet were going to fall off. He had lost track of how many partners he’d had. It was all the same. Every monotonous move yet it seemed his partners couldn’t get enough, some even fighting for more dances.

Naruto sighed as he spun his latest partner away, waiting for a new one to take her place. Straining his neck he caught sight of Shikamaru’s hair. Since the dancing had begun he’d tried to catch a glimpse of that beacon of spiky hair around the perimeters of the ballroom. It worked every so often but he was disappointed in not spotting long deep blue hair.

He had prayed at some point that Hinata might cut in. Hoping for a reprieve from all these women who only seemed to care that they were seen on his arm. It would have been nice to dance with a friend, someone he could actually talk to. yet it never happened. Still, he needed a break. Stepping back away before the next girl could come up he gave an apologetic grin scratching the back of his head as he did so.

“I’m sorry, but I just spotted someone I need to talk to, please excuse me.”

The girl pouted murmuring that she'd only gotten to dance with Naruto three times but Naruto had already turned away making his way towards his friend.

“Are you ready to call it a night yet?” the Nara asked from his slumped position in his chair. He had acquired the table an hour ago and had been napping ever since. Naruto nodded slumping into a chair of his own. Wincing as his feet screamed in protest over the night's abuse. Though he’d done exceptionally well he had no doubt abused his poor feet. For all the teaching and practice Hinata had gone through with him he still ended up tripping a time or two. though the biggest abuse was in the form of some of his dance partners accidentally stepping on them in their heeled dress shoes. Yes, Naruto was ready to call it a night if it meant soaking his poor feet.

“Then go grab Hinata-chan so we can get out of here,” Shikamaru said stretching out as he did so.

“Where is she?” Naruto asked turning once more to catch a peek of her.

“No surprise you haven’t seen her, all the women clustered around you while all the men have been circling her. She’s in the middle of that crowd over there.” Shikamaru pointed to the other side of the room where it seemed an equally large crowd had gathered. And true to his words right there in the middle was Hinata, dancing with some man.

“Why didn’t you help Hinata-chan?!” Naruto accused glaring at the man already settling in for a nap again.

“It’s too troublesome to get involved, besides unlike you she’s actually enjoying it.” Naruto was surprised by these words. Standing up he ignored the pain he felt as he looked closer at the scene.

Sure enough, Hinata looked like she was having the time of her life, her eyes were half-closed and there was a healthy blush adorning her cheeks though not from embarrassment but from all of the activity. Her hair had come loose at some point in the evening and it followed behind her in a mesmerizing dance of its own. Naruto could only watch in awe as Hinata was swept around the floor matching her partner step by step. It had looked as though the two had been dancing together all of their lives. Like they had been born to be each other’s partner.

“They're a handsome couple.” an older woman spoke near him, nodding her head toward the couple. her friend agreed, speaking up herself.

“That is the Hyuga heiress from the leaf village, Lord Souta would do well to ask for her match.”

Naruto frowned at the two women gossiping. Match? Why would Hinata fight that guy, he’s obviously not shinobi.

Idiot Kurama murmured but Naruto ignored it. Choosing instead to make his way through the crowd to get to Hinata. As he came to the center of the growing circle he watched as the dance came to a close. Lord Souta or whoever it was had just dipped Hinata low. All around him, people gasped in delight at the display but Naruto could only frown. This didn’t look like anything Hinata had taught him. This was obviously a different dance, one that only someone with more skill could do. As if to give the crown one final trick Souta spun Hinata, having her twirl out away from him as far as their joined hands would allow. Hinata was so close to Naruto he suddenly had an urge to take her and run. However, he was frozen in place, Hinata was breathtaking. There was no other way to describe it, Naruto couldn’t think of a time where she looked so relaxed and happy.

Something about that hurt Naruto deeply but he couldn’t understand why. He was happy that Hinata was enjoying herself and was feeling comfortable enough to show him and everyone around them her passion. But still, something bothered Naruto. He watched as the final notes to the song ended, Lord Souta pulled Hinata back toward him as if there was a magnetic force pulling the two back together. Hinata spun effortlessly back into the man’s chest clutching his shirt as she was breathing heavily.

The audience cheered.

Naruto couldn’t help his eyes narrowing at the man’s hands, who had clasped them against the small of Hinata’s back. Bunching the fabric together. Naruto was about to tell him off when Hinata finally seemed to realize their audience. To everyone’s surprise, her blush grew as she went to step back. Souta released her just enough to let her have some breathing room.

“Thank you for the dance, Lady Hinata. It was a pleasure.”

“T-thank you, I enjoyed it very much.”

“We must dance again soon.” Lord Souta smiled gently as he bowed towards the woman, taking her hand before she could walk away and kissing it. Hinata, Naruto was shocked to see didn’t faint, or freak out over this instead she gave the man a dazzling smile before nodding her head.

“I would like that very much Lord Souta, thank you.” Both dancers ignored the gossiping whispers as they moved back away from each other. Before any other guy could ask Hinata to dance Naruto snaked through the rest of the crowd. Grabbing her hand pulling her with him gently.

“N-Naruto- kun?!” Hinata felt surprised at seeing the blonde. She had been trying to spot him all night but was unable to, due to the masses that surrounded him. Naruto just smiled down at her, his grin stretched across his face.

“Hinata-chan it’s getting late and Shikamaru is ready to go to bed. I’m sorry I had to interrupt you but-”

“No, it’s fine Naruto-kun. I was getting tired myself and we are leaving early in the morning to head out to the next village.”

“Still, I hate to make you leave. You looked great out there Hinata-chan! I had no idea you liked to dance so much-ttebayo!”

Hinata felt like she was in heaven, Naruto was actually complimenting her. Still, Hinata tried to calm herself down.

“Thank you Naruto-kun. I had to learn many dances as a daughter of the head of the Hyuga clan. It's believed that dancing helps to create relationships and bonds with others all around the world. Like tonight with Lord Souta, he has many trade deals with the Hyuga.”

“Oh, so you are friends with that guy?”

“Well, we’ve met before. However, tonight was the first time we were able to speak freely amongst ourselves. He was able to talk to me about a special rare herb he has been cultivating in his gardens. I offered to make some special salves using those herbs with the promise that we could keep bundles of the herbs ourselves.”

“Wow, you were able to make trade negotiation while dancing, that's impressive Hinata-chan.”

“W-well that happened during our first couple of waltzes together. The last dance though was to a song from his country and so we couldn’t really speak. The dance is so fast-paced.”

Naruto faltered in his steps for a millisecond before continuing. By now they were close to the table to grab Shikamaru.

“Haha, I thought that dance looked a little more complicated than what you taught me,” Naruto said with a forced laugh. Hinata stifled a yawn as they woke Shikamaru up once more, humming in agreement to Naruto.

“Yes, it’s a bit more advanced, I don’t often get a chance to practice it.”

Later, long after they had left the party, and walked Hinata back up to her room. Naruto laid awake thinking about the events of the evening and everything Hinata had mentioned. He tossed and turned, kicking the blankets off of him as he stared up at the ceiling. Something was still bothering him. Something that he couldn’t figure out. It was only after the image of Lord Souta’s hands clutching around Hinata's waist jarred him out of a fitful sleep did Naruto realize what the problem was.

It wasn't the fact that he didn't like the guy.

It wasn't the fact that he wasn't as skilled a dancer as the guy.

It wasn't even the fact that Hinata repeatedly danced with the guy.

It was the fact that Naruto wanted to be the only guy that Hinata danced with.

[asweetprologue]

salt rain

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Rainy day Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: T (for canon typical injury) Content Warnings: None Summary: Geralt is injured on a hunt and confesses to Jaskier, thinking that this is the end. Jaskier is pissed. ao3

The raindrops fell into his eyes, stinging as they mixed with the sweat on his brow. Geralt blinked them away, staring up at the gray sky above them.

“Bet this’ll make a good ballad,” he said, the lightness of his tone probably contradicted by the way his teeth were stained with blood. He let his head fall to the side so that he could better see Jaskier, who shot him an infuriated, terrified look.

“Don’t fucking say that,” he said, turning his gaze away as he pressed hard into Geralt’s side, where the archgriffon had torn him open with a well aimed swipe. Geralt had stabbed through its throat while it hovered above him, but the thing had fallen nearly on top of him. Most critically, directly on top of his bag of potions, which were now no more than a few shards of glass on the ground. He had more back at the campsite, with Roach, but she was too far. They’d never make it there in time.

Jaskier pressed against the wound with some kind of fabric. His doublet. He was stripped down to his shirtsleeves, the thin linen fabric clinging to him as the rain drenched it. Brown hair flopped down into his eyes, pushed flat by the downpour, and Jaskier pushed it out of the way impatiently. “You’re not going to die out here,” Jaskier muttered, almost more to himself than Geralt.

It was a nice sentiment, but a naïve one. He had no potions. The rain was soaking him and Jaskier both, ensuring that his wound continued to run bloody. Without Swallow or White Raffords, there was no way he could heal from such a large injury, not without serious medical intervention. “Jaskier,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

Jaskier didn’t look up, his jaw clenched hard as he tried to put pressure on the hole in Geralt’s side. “You’re not,” he choked out through gritted teeth. “You can���t.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, reaching a hand up to grasp the edge of Jaskier’s shirtsleeve. He felt weak already, the short distance to Jaskier’s wrist taking monumental effort to traverse. He opened his mouth, panting, and the rain fell on his tongue in splashes of clear, sweet spring. “Jaskier, please, look at me.”

This time Jaskier turned, his wide eyes clearly brimming with tears. He sucked in a breath when he saw Geralt’s face, his expression crumpling a bit. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, a choked admission of guilt. Geralt’s heart clenched in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries.

“It’s alright,” he said, trying to focus on the bard even as his vision swam. His hand fell to rest on top of Jaskier’s, where it was still pressed hard to his side. The skin there was warm and wet, though he didn’t know if it was blood or rainwater he found there. He was so tired. He wanted to close his eyes, but that would mean looking away from Jaskier’s beautiful, worried face, and he didn’t have the strength for that yet. “I’m glad you’re here, Jask.”

“Don’t,” Jaskier said, pleaded. Geralt couldn’t tell if he was crying, face too wet with rain to say. “Don’t do this, please.”

“Not much of a choice,” Geralt replied, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. The ground beneath him was warm, and that, he knew, was blood, mixing with the rain and turning the dirt to mud. It was over. “I’m sorry. Don’t wanna… leave you.”

“Then don’t,” Jaskier cried, one of his hands coming up to cradle Geralt’s cheek. He blinked his eyes open, not realizing that he’d closed them. Jaskier’s hand was so warm against his cold skin. His eyes were so blue. “Stay with me.”

He couldn’t, so instead he just said, “I love you. Jaskier. I love you.”

Jaskier made a sound like he was the one who’d been stabbed, a choked cry of pure misery that Geralt felt echoed in his own chest. “No,” he sobbed, “how can you say that? Not now, please-”

“Always,” Geralt sighed, feeling his eyes slipping closed again. “Always have. Sorry.”

“Geralt? Stay with me, please, darling, please stay with me. Geralt? Geralt!”

Geralt slipped into darkness.

*

It was a surprise that he woke.

He knew immediately that he was alive because of the pain. It was dulled from the sharp, twisting agony that he’d felt lying in the field, but it was still there. His side throbbed with the telltale itch of his too-quick healing.

Upon forcing his eyes open, Geralt found himself lying in a thin bed in what looked to be a room at an inn. It was familiar - not the room itself, but the woodworm eaten timbers of the ceiling looked just as they had three nights ago when he and Jaskier had passed through the last town. It was a small thing, truly only fit for one person, but Geralt could see both his own bags and Jaskier’s lute case leaning against the small fireplace. Geralt sat up slowly, feeling the newer skin on his side pull at the movement. Still not fully healed, but it must have been at least a day since he fell unconscious. How was he alive? He had been sure, so sure, that this had been the end, even told Jaskier-

Oh shit. Jaskier.

Geralt threw back the thin blanket covering the small bed and heaved himself out of it, wincing as his side screamed at him. He’d had worse, certainly, and he needed to find Jaskier. The only thing that put his mind even slightly at ease was the presence of the lute; no matter how angry Jaskier was at him, he would never leave his instrument behind. Geralt just had to find him, convince him that it was no big deal, that he didn’t mean it like that. That he knew Jaskier didn’t feel the same, and there was no reason things had to change between them. Panic made Geralt’s throat tighten, and it wasn’t just the strain of his recent injury making his heart pound double time in his chest. He had to find Jaskier.

He pulled open the door to the room, letting it slam into the wall behind him, and practically threw himself into the hallway. Only to run headfirst into Jaskier as he rounded the corner, their foreheads cracking together. Geralt felt something warm and wet coat his front as whatever was in the bowl Jaskier had been holding tumbled out of his hands.

Geralt stumbled backwards, cursing as he looked down at the stew now coating his bare chest and the bandages around his waist. He hadn’t even thought to put on a shirt. Jaskier scrambled up from where he’d fallen flat on his ass, one hand pressed to his forehead.

“What the fuck,” he hissed, “are you doing up?” Geralt looked up, startled by the vehemence in Jaskier’s tone. “Shit, look at you, now I don’t have any lunch! Fuck.” Jaskier stepped forward, bowl abandoned, and his fingertips touched the edge of the bandage around Geralt’s middle. His fingers skimmed over the skin just at the edge, and Geralt suppressed a shiver. “Look at this mess. You shouldn’t even be standing, are you alright? We need to change these, come on.”

Geralt allowed himself to be maneuvered, Jaskier herding him back into the room and pushing at him until he sat back on the rumpled bed sheets. The floor was chilly beneath his bare feet, and Geralt spared a moment to feel a bit foolish for rushing out of the room in not much more than his braies in his eagerness to confront the bard. Now that they were in the same room, he found himself unable to even speak as Jaskier fluttered about, griping to himself. He was clearly angry, though Geralt couldn’t tell if it went beyond irritation at being bumped into. After a few moments Jaskier threw down a handful of bandages and gauze that he’d pulled from a bag resting on the single trunk in the room, the closest thing to a table. Geralt didn’t recognize it; Jaskier must have purchased some supplies while he was out.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Jaskier muttered, brow furrowed as he knelt before Geralt, right in between his knees. Normally having Jaskier in such a position would be enough to make Geralt flustered, but now he just felt anxiety crawling up his neck. Jaskier began to pull off the soup-soaked bandages around his waist, fingers gentle even though his brow was still wrinkled with consternation. He fell silent, using the ruined fabric to wipe the rest of the stew from Geralt’s chest before reaching for the clean supplies next to him.

Geralt reached out and caught his wrist, his own grip tentative. Jaskier could have broken out of it if he’d wanted to, but instead he froze. “I don’t need them,” Geralt grunted softly, waving to his side with his other hand. He didn’t have to look to know that most of the healing was done. The wound might still be partially exposed, but it was no longer bleeding, and witchers couldn’t get infections like normal humans. There was no need for extra bandages that would only slow him down.

Jaskier wrenched his hand out of Geralt’s grasp, his jaw clenching. “I say you do,” he snapped. “How would you know, anyways? You’ve been asleep for the better part of two days, while I took care of… all this.” He gave a sharp nod towards Geralt’s injury, though he avoided looking at it.

“I’m… sorry.” Geralt shifted awkwardly as Jaskier unspooled a roll of gauze and began to gently wrap up his side once again. He didn’t fight it further, afraid to make Jaskier even angrier than he already was. This must be about something more, he thought with a sinking feeling in his gut. Jaskier had seen him injured plenty of times, and he’d never been so infuriated. It could only be about what Geralt had said to him, before.

I love you.

His own jaw tightened at the memory, the feeling of the rain on his face as he felt himself slowly bleeding out, just wanting Jaskier to know how he felt. He’d just wanted to say it. Just once.

And look where it landed him.

“How, uh.” He started and stopped, distracted by Jaskier’s hands as they hesitated over his wound, gently pressing the gauze down. “How am I…?”

“Alive?” Jaskier finished, voice still brittle. “Yeah, that is the question, hmm? It was Roach, really. I whistled to her - I’m quite good at that, did you know? Good lungs I guess. Anyways, she heard me and came. Brought all your potions, and I was able to get enough Swallow into you to slow the bleeding, enough to bandage you up and get back to town. It wasn’t easy, mind, you’re a heavy bastard and these arms are not meant for manual labor. Thank the gods Roach is used to taking care of your sorry arse, or I’d never have managed. You were bleeding all over the saddle, and I couldn’t remember which one was White Honey and which was White Raffords, and if I’d given you the Honey you’d have been bleeding out even more, so I just had to get into town and find a healer, which was a damn difficult thing to do in that storm-”

He was rambling, sharp, angry words carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. Geralt set a hand over Jaskier’s where they were tying off the bandage, just before he pulled away. “Jaskier,” he interrupted, as gently as he could. “Thank you.”

Jaskier blinked at him, seemingly startled. “Wh- For what?”

“You saved my life.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, “Roach did all the heavy lifting.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said again, imploring. Jaskier pulled his hands away, blinking hard as he looked away from Geralt and towards the fire. He didn’t move out from between Geralt’s spread knees, but he was no longer touching either. His arms crossed defensively, his hands tucking under his armpits. “I’m sorry.” Geralt didn’t know what else to say.

“You should be!” Jaskier suddenly exploded, standing up and pacing across the room. Geralt reached for him, but he was already gone. He watched from the bed as Jaskier threw his hands up, turning back to point an accusatory finger at him. “You were bleeding out in my arms and you choose that moment to what, confess your- to confess to me? Then, Geralt? That’s not fair! You can’t just say something like that and then almost- and then-” He put a hand over his mouth, turning away. His shoulders were shaking slightly.

Geralt rose, horrified. He stepped up to Jaskier’s side, hand hovering over his shoulder but unsure if his touch would be welcome. “Jaskier, Jaskier, I’m sorry,” he said, panicked. “Please don’t be upset. I’m not- It doesn’t have to change anything. I know it was out of line, I’m sorry.”

Jaskier wasn’t listening, scrubbing hard at his watery eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, taking a shaky breath. “I mean, I understand you might have had your reservations before,” he said, voice strained, “but how was I supposed to get over that?” He lowered his gaze, meeting Geralt’s eyes. This time there was no rain to mix with his tears. “Knowing that you… that we could have been…”

Geralt was at a loss for words. “I didn’t think,” he stuttered, “I didn’t think you would feel the same. As me. I just wanted you to know.”

Jaskier inhaled sharply, a wet, pained sound. “You meant it?” he asked.

Geralt nodded gravely.

Suddenly he had an armful of bard, Jaskier flinging his own arms around Geralt’s neck as he buried his face in his throat. A sob shuddered out of him, and Geralt brought his hands up to spread across Jaskier’s shoulders. His side twinged painfully, but he ignored it. “You almost died,” Jaskier gasped, one of his hands burying itself in Geralt’s hair and clutching almost painfully. “How could you tell me you love me and then leave me?”

“I didn’t want to,” Geralt murmured, pressing his cheek to Jaskier’s temple. “I just wanted you to know. That I… loved you. Love you.”

“I’ve loved you for twenty years,” Jaskier hiccupped, his forehead pressing against Geralt’s shoulder. “You could have said it any time.”

Geralt pulled back a bit, one of his hands coming up to cradle Jaskier’s face as he met his gaze. He felt breathless, something light stirring in his chest even as he mournfully took in the tear streaks on Jaskier’s cheeks. “You too?” he asked, heart in his throat.

Jaskier choked out a laugh, and turned to press a brief kiss to Geralt’s palm. Geralt couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped him. “You’re the stupidest man I know,” Jaskier said into his hand, before looking back up at him. “Of course me too.”

Geralt couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward, from letting Jaskier’s breath gust over his nose before he used the hand on his cheek to guide Jaskier’s mouth to his own. It was only a brief press, sweet like fresh rainwater and salty with Jaskier’s tears. He pulled away slowly, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s. When his eyes fluttered open, he found Jaskier staring at him, blue eyes startlingly bright.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you,” Jaskier said. He didn’t sound angry, though. His voice was still shaky, but a small smile was spreading across his mouth. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“I don’t plan to,” Geralt agreed easily. His side still throbbed, but the pain felt far away, and Jaskier was warm and soft in his arms. “Even if you’re still mad, would you do something for me?”

Jaskier hummed. “Depends on the request.” His fingers had gentled in Geralt’s hair, petting across the base of his skull.

“Will you say it?” he asked, tracing a thumb under Jaskier’s eye. Wiping away the last of the dampness there.

Jaskier looked confused for a moment, and then his face brightened like a storm cloud had passed. “Oh,” he said, fondness saturating his voice. “Oh, Geralt. I love you. I always have.”

Relief, affection, joy. Geralt felt lighter than he had in years. “Me too,” he said, leaning in to speak the words against Jaskier’s lips. “I love you too.”

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