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captain-buckyyy · 3 years ago

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worst behaviour ⭒ part one

summary: steve and bucky break your number one rule: no playtime without mommy’s permission

pairing: sub!steve x reader x sub!bucky

warnings: swearing, steve and bucky call reader ‘mommy’, steve eats reader out, pet names, male x male smut

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is part one of two! hope u enjoy!

Bucky can’t sleep, his head wracked with thoughts of you. His cock is achingly hard in the snug material of the sweatpants he wore to bed. You’re sound asleep next to him and on the other side of you is Steve, who snores gently. Bucky sneaks a glance at you laid there, your skin glowing in the early morning light; he can’t the way his hand palms over the bulge in his grey sweatpants at the sight of you. Bucky’s blue eyes can’t leave your supple flesh as images of him on his knees eating your sweet pussy out for hours flash through his mind.

“Fuck!” Bucky lowly groans as he kneads his hard cock through his sweatpants as you stir slightly in your sleep moving an inch, enough for the material of the thin vest you’re wearing to move and Bucky gets a peek at the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Shit! Fuck!” Bucky practically whimpers at the sight, his sweatpants are getting uncomfortably tight and his cock is painfully hard and needing release.

The sound of Bucky’s moans and sweet little whimpers entice Steve away from his dreams of sucking your tits and tasting the sweet nectar of your milk. Steve wakes confused and startled as Bucky’s moans get louder as his hands slip under the soft material of his pants grasping his thick cock and slowly jerking his hand over it, his hips bucking into his flesh hand instinctively as the familiar rush of pleasure waves over him.

“Buck?” Steve rasps out, his voice thick and full of sleep, his eyes adjusting to the light as he focuses on the sight of Bucky sitting up in bed next to you, stroking himself as he focuses on your body.

Bucky’s eyes reluctantly tear away from your body to focus on the sight of his rather sleepy boyfriend sitting up in bed, eyes zeroed on Bucky’s cock.

“Buck, stop! You’re gonna get in trouble,” Steve says ever the obedient little boy, Bucky’s always been more of the troublemaker of the two. Steve would do anything and everything for you but Bucky liked to act out, he liked the thrill of the rush and the way the paddle felt on his bare bottom when you spanked him as a punishment.

Bucky merely smirks at Steve words, the super-soldier couldn’t deny that the thought of you punishing him was exhilarating. The last time you punished him, his ass was red and raw and he came so hard he nearly passed out.

Bucky ignores Steve, too busy with the feeling of his wet hand gliding over his cock, high-pitched moans leaving his plump pink lips in ecstasy. Steve can’t help but grow hard at the sight of Bucky jerking himself, Bucky’s head is tipped back against the headboard, one hand gripping the curve of your ass, the other secured tightly against the flesh of his thick cock. Bucky’s teeth rake over the plump sensitive skin of his lips, clamping down against it and the moan Steve lets out at the sight is sinful.

“Come on Stevie, let’s have some together. Mommy doesn’t have to know,” Bucky says quietly not to wake you. Steve sighs, his face taken over with thought as he weighs his options: he could be good and go back to sleep and pretend he didn’t see anything to avoid punishment or he could be a little naughty and have some fun with Bucky.

Steve barely has time to think before Bucky is getting up from his side of the bed coming over to Steve and pressing his lips to Steve’s. Steve moans almost immediately the moment he feels Bucky’s wet and warm tongue slip past his lips, Bucky can’t help but smirk as his hand slithers down to the boxers Steve wore to bed and he feels the hardness of Steve’s clothed cock. “Bucky!” Steve moans but the sound is swallowed against Bucky’s plump lips that are devouring Steve.

Steve whimpers as Bucky pulls back, his lips reluctantly leaving Bucky. “Shhh… we don’t want to wake mommy up do we?” Bucky says smirking at Steve as his hand palms over Steve’s shorts-covered cock. Steve shakes his head before diving in and capturing Bucky’s lips, his hips rut up against Bucky’s metal hand and small whimpers leave his lips as he feels Bucky’s metal fingers squeeze his hard cock.

“You’re so hard,” Bucky laughs, pressing harder against Steve’s now painfully hard cock. Steve can’t help the animal-like mewl that leaves his throat at the sensation.

“Please Bucky,” Steve whines, making Bucky smirk wide at the sinful sounds escaping Steve’s lips.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks with a smirk.

“Please Bucky, need you to suck my cock,” Steve whines loudly and that was his mistake. The sound of one of your perfect little puppies whining wakes you quickly, Steve’s whine is so loud it fills the room and wakes you almost instantly.

Your eyes take time to adjust to the light and when they do, they’re suddenly met with the sight of Bucky removing Steve’s shorts as Steve hisses in desperate want and need at the feeling of Bucky’s flesh wrapped tightly around his hard cock.

“Need your mouth, Bucky,’ Steve practically begs the other super soldier and Bucky can’t help but coo taking pity on him, his warm pink lips wrap around the thick base of Steve’s cock and it feels too good Steve can barely string out a sentence instead opting to moan Bucky’s name over and over.

They don’t seem to notice the fact you’re awake, eyes open laying watching them disobey your number one rule: no playing without mommy’s permission. It seems your usual good little obedient puppies are being naughty and from the sound of Steve’s moans, they seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Bucky’s tongue swirls across the swollen red tip of Steve’s cock and Steve’s body jolts as pleasure consumes him, “Fuck!” Steve says, tears falling from his blue eyes as pleasure wrecks through his body. Bucky can’t help but laugh at how far gone Steve is and he’s barely even started. Bucky likes to be submissive to you but on the rare occasion, he’s naughty and plays with Steve without your permission Bucky likes to take control and watch Steve squirm.

The sight before you makes wetness pool in between your legs, your thighs instantly lubricated and sticky with your oozing slick as you watch your two little pets play with each other. It’s arousing, there’s no denying it but Bucky and Steve have broken your number one rule so as much as you’d like to join them, have Steve suck on your erect nipples as Bucky sucks him off; you need to remind them who’s in control and who calls the shots.

“Well isn’t this a lovely sight to wake up to, my two little boys misbehaving and breaking our rules,” you say tutting as you sit up in bed arms folded across your chest as you glare daggers at the two super soldiers.

Bucky immediately releases Steve’s thick cock from the wet and warm confines of his mouth making your other pet whimper at the loss but one harsh look from you has Steve immediately shutting up. Bucky can’t help the way blood rushes to his cock as his little plan play out before him: he wanted Steve to wake you up because something about getting punished is all too enticing for the former winter soldier.

“Mommy-” Steve tries to but you cut him off.

“I didn’t ask you to speak pet,” you say, silencing him and Steve hangs his head in disappointment. He knew he shouldn’t have let Bucky get to him, Steve isn’t used to breaking rules and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle whatever punishment you’ll dole out.

“Bucky, speak!” You command and Bucky already knows what you want him to say, you’ve trained him to perfection.

“Mommy, Steve was so hard, I had to take care of him,” Bucky says his blue eyes round and begging as he puts on that sweet like sugar voice he knows can get him out of any trouble. However, this time that sweet little voice of his has lost its magic.

“Steve, is that true?” You ask.

Steve instantly shakes his head, “No mommy, I woke up and Buck was playing with himself and then he said we should play with each other and to never tell you.” Bucky should have expected it, Steve ratting him out but he’s rather surprised when Steve exposes him.

“Momm-” Bucky tries but is cut off when you slap his thigh, his cock jumping in excitement.

“I should have known you were the little mastermind behind this, you like getting punished too much. That’s what all of this is about, you want mommy to spank and edge you?” You ask and Bucky’s head hangs low in shame as he nods.

“I’m really sorry, mommy,” Bucky says, his eyes glassy as he looks up at you. You can’t help but scoff at the sight of unshed tears in his eyes, he’s really committing to his little act.

You laugh and that’s when Bucky knows you’re not going to be taking it easy on him and he gets so painfully hard he’s sure he could cum just there as he thinks of all the ways you could punish him. Maybe you’ll tie him up again and make him cum so much he can’t cum anymore.

“Stevie, my little pet come over here,” you command, spreading your legs and of course your little Stevie does as you say and immediately settling on his knees between your legs.

“Such a good boy” you coo, hand coming up to stroke his soft cheek. Steve practically purrs at your gentle touch and hopes you continue to be so happy towards him.

“Now Stevie baby, you’re gonna eat mommy out and Bucky you’re gonna watch and if you make any noise or touch yourself at all then you won’t be allowed any playtime for a long time,” you say smirking at the cute little pout that etches its way onto Bucky’s face.

Steve is practically glowing at your words, he’s so unbelievably happy Bucky’s the only one in trouble and he’s of course happy he gets to please his mommy. The panties you wore to bed slip off with ease and Steve wastes no time, he dives in and the moment you feel the wetness and warmth of his tongue glides across your clit you can’t help the moan that leaves your lips.

Your eyes find Bucky and he’s looking at you with such intensity you’re sure he's bound to pop a vessel with the level of concentration he’s trying to uphold. Steve practically devours you, moaning into your wet pussy at the sweet taste of you on his tongue and whimpering lowly as he hears you tell him, “you’re such a good boy for mommy, you’re making mommy feel so good.”

Bucky can’t help the way tears fall down his soft cheeks as he hears you praise Steve; as much as Bucky liked to be bad and get punished he also loved to hear you call him your good little boy and right now he just wanted to push Steve out of the way and eat you out so good you squirt all over his face.

Steve's lips wrap around your clit and your legs shake violently around his head, air leaves your lungs and you're breathless at the pleasure that washes over you consuming you. Bucky watches with envy, he wishes he were Steve and all he wants to do is make you scream louder than Steve could ever make you.

“Fuck, it feels so good!” You practically scream and shout, fingers tangling in the short strands of Steve’s blonde hair. You can’t resist bucking your hips up into wet tongue and plump lips and the deep groan Steve lets out as you do makes wetness ooze out of you onto his awaiting tongue.

“You taste so good, mommy,” Steve moans momentarily, tearing himself from the wetness of your pussy. He can’t help but stare in amazement at the wetness that flows out of your cunt making a mess on the mattress below you.

Steve’s fingers dip into your tight, wet hole gathering slick before he pulls them out and breathlessly pulls them into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking them till every last drop of you is on his tongue. “So good mommy,” Steve moans before he’s pulling your legs wide apart, two of his fingers in your pussy and his lips wrapped tightly around your clit.

The way his fingers curl into the spot that makes your legs shake uncontrollably makes Bucky want to scream, all he wants to do is to make you cum. In Bucky’s opinion, Steve doesn’t deserve to make you cum not with the way he snitched on Bucky so quickly.

The moment you cum Bucky can’t help the whine that leaves his lips. You almost don’t hear it too caught up in the bliss of your orgasm but when you do you can’t help but smirk. You’re truly surprised he lasted this long and even more surprised he didn’t cum in his sweatpants like he usually does.

The second the whine leaves his lips, Bucky realises his mistake and for the first time, he’s truly scared of his punishment. Steve, however, can’t help but be excited about Bucky’s punishment, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t rooting for Bucky to slip up.

“Fuck!” Bucky mutters as both yours and Steve’s eyes lay on him.

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your lips as you look at your pathetic little puppy.

“Please mommy,” Bucky begs but the shake of your head tells him there’s no use in trying, begging and pleading because you’ve already made your mind up.

“I gave you one instruction puppy and you couldn’t even follow that,” you say, shaking your head in faux disappointment.

“And you Stevie, you broke the rules just like Bucky did so the two of you are getting punished together, no playtime, no cumming for two weeks,” the look on Steve’s was just hilarious as if you just let it slide and pretend Bucky wasn’t sucking his cock ten minutes ago.

“But mommy-” Steve starts but a tug of his blonde locks shuts him up.

“If you complain, you try to go behind my back and break my rules then you’ll be punishment will be upped to a month, do you understand me?” You ask.

“Yes mommy,” they both reluctantly say and you can’t help but feel giddy about the torture you're gonna put them through for the next two weeks.

PART 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #stucky #sub!bucky #stucky x reader #steve x reader x bucky #chris evans #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #marvel

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beccascribbles · 4 years ago

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can you please do an omegaverse fic with inarizaki having an omega manager that goes into heat during a game and she tries to leave but some guys from another team stop her and harass her but the bois pull up and protect her <3

a/n - right, just a warning, i’m a big atsumu simp and this became abundantly clear to me when i was writing this... it’s less inarizaki and more miya twins (with the addition of kita). whoops

warnings - harassment (unwanted touching, sexual implications)

In hindsight, leaving the house without packing heat suppressants, or at least being aware of your own condition, was reckless of you. It wasn't your fault you had woken up late and had to rush to ensure you looked presentable by the time the twins came by to collect you. Though you would have loved to make the twins late (considering it was their fault - they didn’t have to get you hooked on a new TV show and leave the call midway through the season finale), you weren’t so keen on having any of Kita’s disappointment directed towards you. Therefore, when the twins arrived, Atsumu with a wide smirk at your slightly dishevelled self, you settled on directing a swift punch to their stomachs as revenge.

“Ouch,” whined Atsumu, rubbing his stomach with a pout. “What was that for, stupid?”

“Obviously she’s pissed off that we let her stay up late,” Osamu grumbled, also rubbing his stomach, though, instead of a pout, his lips were tugged downwards in a frown. “Although I don’t see how her terrible sleep schedule is our problem.”

“Don’t get me hooked on a new show next time,” you muttered, looping an arm through Osamu’s and beginning to pull him down the road. In your other hand, you held a cool bag with some snacks for the team. The only reason you had grabbed Osamu with your free arm was to prevent him from peeking into the bag. If he had hands free to look, he had hands free to eat the food within. Atsumu was less likely to eat the food, though that didn’t stop him from unzipping the bag and peeking inside.

“Oh, tasty!” he exclaimed, zipping up the bag and making eye contact with Osamu, whose head had turned in his direction once the words left his mouth. He was clearly pleading with his twin to reveal what was in the bag. Atsumu simply stuck his tongue out. “Why don’t ya use your nose to figure it out? You always boast about having a better sense of smell than me anyway.”

“Because I do,” snapped back Osamu, quickly becoming irritated, muscles tensing as he prepared himself to leap towards his twin. Your arm tightened around his, and you shot him a look, eyes holding a warning. With care, you let your scent wind through the air around the three of you, the twin alphas calming at the subtle shift in the air.

Atsumu looped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, the bag you were carrying bumping awkwardly against his legs in the process. This action almost caused your arm to slip from Osamu’s, but he quickly tightened his hold. Atsumu was not going to pull you away from him. Almost in sync, they both turned towards you, noses nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You let out a slightly frustrated sigh, but let them continue scenting you. After all, when they were able to do this, they were at their calmest, and you still had a long bus journey ahead of you where keeping arguments to a minimum was preferable.

When you began to approach the school gates, you pulled out of their grasp, walking ahead of them. You began to walk faster, shooting a look over your shoulder to see the pair of them watching you with confused expressions. It was when you finally broke into a sprint, hefting the bag holding the food at a weird angle, that they realised what you had in mind. Letting out a laugh, Atsumu took off after you; Osamu quickly followed. If you had managed to get a bigger head start, you might have won. However, on this occasion, both twins pulled ahead of you, darting around a bewildered Kita and launching forward to touch the bus with their fingers.

“I won!” they declared in unison, an argument breaking out between them that you tuned out in favour of focusing your attention on Kita. Aran had already walked over to the twins, grabbing them by the backs of their jackets and hauling them away. It was this sudden movement that jerked them from their argument.

“Hey,” you greeted, giving Kita a weary smile as he reached forward to take the food from you. Together, you walked towards the bus. Kita, having arrived ridiculously early, had already packed away everything that the team would need. The only thing not within the bus was most of the team, their individual athletic bags, and whatever you had brought with you. You climbed in, reaching up to place the bag on the overhang above you. Once you had finished, you turned to face Kita. “I think we’re going to win for sure. I did some research on this team and they’ve put forward a series of underwhelming performances in official games, as well as practice matches. They’re no match for Inarizaki, especially with our captain ready to step in if the second years on court get too excited or lazy.”

The latter comment was directed towards Suna, whose head poked up from behind a seat near the back of the bus. He raised his middle finger up in response before refocusing on the phone he was holding in his other hand. You yelled over at him, “Good morning to you too.”

“Whatever, y/n,” he sighed, looking up at you once again. “Just sit down somewhere, preferably a place where the two idiots can argue over who gets to sit next to you.”

You just rolled your eyes, taking the seat you were planning on claiming originally. Kita stood in the aisle, giving you a small smile. “I’m glad you’re confident we’re going to win, especially with all the practice everybody has been putting in.”

“I know,” you grinned. While continuing with the conversation, you motioned towards the seat beside you, indicating for Kita to take it. You’d rather sit next to Kita than have to deal with the twins for the journey anyway. “Everybody has been putting in so much more effort. I swear I’ve had to physically drag Atsumu out of the gym most days.”

“He just doesn’t listen,” sighed Kita, resting his head against the headrest. “I keep telling him practicing too much is bad for his health. He even got a fever because he was practicing too hard.”

“He’s stupid like that,” you shrugged, a yawn cutting through whatever you were about to say next.

“You better be talkin’ about Samu,” interrupted Atsumu, taking the seat in front of you and turning around to face you. Osamu collapsed into the seat beside him, flicking him in the forehead.

“She was obviously talking about you, dumbass,” he quipped.

Osamu turned to you for confirmation, only to see your head resting against the captain’s shoulder. He questioned, “y/n?”

“Of course she’s asleep,” laughed Atsumu, nudging Osamu with his shoulder, previous comment forgotten in favour of teasing you. “She can’t take the late nights.”

“Keep it down,” Kita said, adjusting your head so that it was rested against him more comfortably. In response, you moved closer to him, an arm sliding around his waist to hug him as you mumbled something incoherent in your sleep. A furious blush spread along his cheeks, and he ducked his head to hide from the twins. Luckily, their attention was fixed elsewhere, on a video Suna had sent to Osamu, too lazy to get up to walk down the coach to show him. Kita let out a sigh, dropping his head to rest atop of yours. He chided, not that you could hear him in your slumber, “You should really try to sleep earlier.”

It was fortunate for you that you slept for most of the journey. You missed Osamu moaning about being hungry, and then proceeding to search up pictures of food to drool over. Consequently, you also missed Atsumu hitting his twin and being scolded by Kita, something that always made you laugh. However, Suna had got up to draw on your face, which would have been an unfortunate consequence. Luckily, it was only to shuffle back to his seat sheepishly, the sight of Kita beside you a deterrent.

“You had to fall asleep on Kita,” grumbled Suna, walking along beside you as you entered the gymnasium. You trailed behind the rest of the team, your footsteps unusually sluggish. You blamed it on your late night. “Why couldn’t you have fallen asleep on Atsumu? He would’ve let me draw on your face.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you didn’t,” you responded, transferring the food bag to your other hand. The weight, though it wasn’t abnormally heavy, was beginning to make your arm ache. In fact, your whole body ached. Eyebrows furrowed, you continued switching the bag from hand to hand. It made no difference. You still ached.

“You look constipated,” observed Suna, though he took the food from your grip. You gave him a thankful smile, which he waved off. “I’m not being nice. I just don’t like walking beside someone with such a stupid expression on their face.”

“I didn’t ask you to walk beside me,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. They still ached, even without the bag. All you wanted to do was collapse on the bench at the sidelines.

“It’s not my fault you decided to walk so slowly today,” replied Suna, glancing over at you briefly. Something about you was off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was probably a consequence of your late night, but even when you had stayed up late before, you were never this sluggish. Usually, you walked at the front beside Kita, or with the coaches. It was rare for you to be at the back unless you wanted to annoy him, which evidently was not the case this time. “I didn’t voluntarily choose to accompany you.”

“Leave me then,” you snapped, eyes narrowing in a glare, your scent suddenly spiking. He let out a grumble, releasing some of his pheromones in the air to soothe you. Suna hated being on omega duty, one of the reasons why he was glad you usually opted to walk at the front.

“You know I can’t just leave you,” he sighed, placing a hand on the small of your back to urge you forward. “The sooner we get to the gym, the sooner you can leave me and sit on the bench.”

That caused you to perk up somewhat, which also had the effect of pulling your scent back to its’ ordinary level. Your scent may have regulated, but the ache in your body persisted, each movement making you fight back a wince. It was with gritted teeth that you sat on the bench, and pulled your clipboard towards you. Suna gave you one last assessing look before beginning to warm up.

Your gaze was unfocused as you stared down at the words you had written on the page. They swam in front of your gaze, coming apart and then joining again in dizzying confusion. As you stared, you found your mind wandering, nose twitching as you found yourself seeking out any scent that felt comforting, felt familiar. Your head snapped up from the clipboard, falling on a pile of discarded jackets. From the pile, and wafting towards you in the air, was Atsumu’s rich scent that made you recall moments where you were held in his arms and shielded from the rain, Osamu’s that brought forward memories of laughing in the kitchen and collaborating on random food creations, and Kita’s that filled you with comfort, reminding you of his quite support.

Before you could process what you were doing, you were moving towards the pile, hand clutching the first jacket you found. You buried your nose into the material, breathing in Atsumu’s scent, a soft whine escaping your lips. Your own team, too engrossed in warming up, missed the sound. It did, however, attract the attention of the team on the other side of the net.

You were unaware of the sudden, and unwanted, attention, shrugging off your jacket and pulling on Atsumu’s. You turned your head into the collar, taking in a deep breath. Though the scent satisfied you emotionally, the joy at being wrapped in Atsumu’s scent, caused you to release your own pheromones, made you feel slightly dizzy. A sudden spiking heat rushed through you, and a quiet ‘shit’ slipped from your lips. Hurriedly, you began to head towards the exit, keeping your head ducked and trying desperately to stop sending pulse after pulse of pheromones into the gym. You figured that, once you were safely in the confines of the bus, you could send a message to one of the coaches, apologising for having to leave and explaining that your heat had suddenly started.

A large hand wrapped around your wrist, causing you to come to a jolting stop. The owner of the hand yanked you back into his chest and you let out a surprised squeak. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him as he let out a pleased hum. His nose ran along the scent gland at your neck, making you stiffen suddenly. Fear made you kick out, knocking against one of his teammates who was standing beside him.

“Get off me,” you panted, weakly thrashing in his grip, a sharp and bitter scent escaping from you. Across the gym, Atsumu and Osamu’s heads snapped in your direction. “Just want to leave. Need to leave.”

Twin growls ripped through the gym, sending shivers down the spines of many people in attendance, including the male currently holding you. All you could feel was relief. He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with the furious twins. Their fury had caught the attention of the rest of Inarizaki, who all suddenly stood to attention.

“No need to be aggressive,” chuckled the male, though he made no move to release you. “I was just going to take care of this omega.”

“Like fuck ya are,” spat Atsumu, lunging forward and grabbing the male by the back of his shirt. His eyes were dark, expression twisted as another growl ripped from his throat.

“Get the fuck away from her,” growled Osamu, who had taken the distraction Atsumu provided to step in front of the male. The rest of his teammates had wisely backed off. One who had been about to pull Atsumu away had been stopped by Kita, his grip tight as he had pulled the man away by his shoulder. Despite the warning, the male’s arm remained around you. Despite Atsumu at his back and Osmau at his front, he had the nerve to push his nose against your scent gland and breathe you in deeply. A nervous whimper escaped your mouth, all Osamu and Atsumu needed for any last bit of restraint they had to evaporate. He muttered darkly, “I gave you a warning.”

Osamu’s hand curled around the male’s wrist, yanking it upwards harshly and twisting. His other arm went to catch you, pulling you away as Atsumu finally snapped. His arm wrapped around the male’s throat, his muscles prominent as he tightened his grip, crushing his windpipe. It was clear Osamu was frustrated too, eager to leap at the male. Yet, you were beside him, looking up at him with fear, and his first instinct was to protect you. He pulled his gaze away from the scene in front of him, scanning the gym until he finally found Kita. Kita was already walking towards you, anger prominent in the lines of his body. He took you from Osamu, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and snuggle your head into the crook of his neck as he held you. Kita left Osamu with a nod, giving permission the other man had not needed, but appreciated, to attack the male who had harassed you. He would let the coaches break it apart. Right now, you were his concern.

Kita walked from the gym, heading towards the bus. It was fortunate he was always prepared. Though he was certain you would be responsible enough to bring your own, he had packed heat suppressors in the buses emergency kit just in case. You let out a soft whine, hands curling into the material of his shirt.

“Atsumu… Osamu… Are they okay?” you questioned, needing to know. Kita let out a comforting purr, coupled with a release of soothing pheromones. The scent wafted around you, easing your racing heart, though it did little to cut through the haze of your heat.

“They’re fine,” he reassured, hand rubbing a soothing circle into your back before he placed you gently on a seat in the bus. You wrapped your arms around yourself, nose immediately pressing against the inside collar of the jacket, breathing in Atsumu’s scent deeply.

“Want the twins,” you whimpered. It was normal for you to want to be close to them. You had been with them since you were born, the three of you inseparable as soon as you were able to toddle. It was their scents that made up the majority of your nest, with the occasional addition of something Kita or Suna or another member of the team had scented.

Kita ignored your comment in favour of grabbing the heat suppressants from the bag. He turned towards you, grabbing a water bottle from where the spares were kept. Deciding it might be better for you, more peaceful and less painful, he also decided to include a sleeping pill. Kita handed them to you. “Have these. It’s heat suppressants and a sleeping pill.”

He watched as you took the medicine, carding his fingers through your hair affectionately. He gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze, “I’ll be back, along with the twins, when the match is finished.”

You nodded, barely registering his words as you let sleep overtake you.

When you woke up, strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you against a chest. You snuggled into the warmth, letting the distinct scent of Atsumu wash over you. Fingers stroked your hand softly, tracing its shape before sliding between your own. Your hand was lifted up, soft lips pressed against it before a face nuzzled into your palm. Sleepily, you looked up, blinking up at the twins. Even in your half-awake state, you could see the slight bruising that peppered their skin. Despite it being two-against-one, the male had landed a few solid hits before the coaches got involved.

“You’re awake,” cheered Atsumu, brushing a kiss to the top of your head as his fingers ran up and down your back, sliding beneath his jacket and your t-shirt to rest against your bare skin. Osamu gave a small cheer as well, a warm smile overtaking his features as he gazed down at you. That warm smile didn’t stop him from scolding you, something you were expecting from Kita and not him.

“And an idiot for not realising you were starting your heat,” he said, reaching over to give your hair an affection ruffle.

“We always know when our ruts are so you should know when your heats are,” chimed in Atsumu, ignoring the weak punch to his chest that you gave him with the hand not being held in Osamu’s.

“That’s because I always remind you,” you grumbled in response, though your anger was short-lived. The pheromones they were pumping out were so distracting any emotion but bliss was hard to feel, let alone hold onto.

“Considering how long you’ve known each other,” said Suna, deciding to add his two pence to the conversation, “I would’ve thought you two dumbasses would know what her pre-heat symptoms are.”

“You’re her friend too,” protested Atsumu, the only thing stopping him from engaging in a fall-blown argument was you in his lap. “Maybe you should have realised.”

“I did realise,” smirked Suna. In a quieter voice, he continued, “I just thought she was tired.”

“Can you all shut up?” snapped Aran, to which Kita was quick to agree, explaining that you would appreciate the peace and quiet.

That put a stop to any argument that could have broken out, both of the twins refocusing on you. Osamu resumed lazily playing with your fingers, while Atsumu nuzzled into your neck, rubbing his face against your scent gland. You let out a content sigh, finding comfort in their touch and the scents of the team wafting around you.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up.

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text.

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down.

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room.

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand.

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen.

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind.

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer.

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily.

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat.

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring.

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday.

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

“I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess.

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero.

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #miniseries #series #two parts #desperate measures #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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apocalypticgargoyle · 4 years ago

Text

𝘼𝙐𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩

i wanted to use this picture so badly but I knew it would ruin the mood.

∘ request(s):

"ayo? they’re not sleeping with anyone else??? does that mean???? raw??? w edgy karl????????

"ooooo i’m lacking in edgy karl content😩 for the next one could you do one where maybe the reader is being a brat and karl puts them in their place? if that makes sense?"

"Ever since I read your edgy Karl x reader I been getting massive brainrot where reader is just questioning their relationship and Karl is just dismissive about it. It feels great to get that off my chest. 😭"

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, prostitution (sort of), drinking, Todd the frat boy, crude/suggestive language, degradation, asphyxiation, spitting, angst

∘ word count: ~5k

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ song recommendation: Come Here by Dominic Fike

a/n: y'all really drive this series oml. thank you to all your requests! should I do song recs on these or is that dumb? happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You adjusted your dress, attempting to not look as unkempt as you felt. Your hair had luckily survived the bus ride to Karl’s, yet your clothing was wrinkled from being smashed against various girls with the same destination in mind. You scoffed to yourself as you leaned against the side of the house, tugging your heel into a more comfortable position as one of the women in the group knocked on the large door.

It felt like there was always some random party blaring out of the windows, so you were surprised to be mixed into an excited group of girls waiting to be invited in by one of the Brothers. The only time when you’d been over to visit Karl and there wasn’t some kind of celebration of a random event was directly before spring break.

A nameless member dressed in a tux answered the door and you bit back a laugh as he welcomed everyone into the foyer. As you scanned the crowd for Karl, you noticed the number of older people lounging about in formal attire. You furrowed your brows slightly, knowing that Todd was probably behind whatever cultist bullshit was about to happen.

You wracked your brain trying to remember if Karl had mentioned anything about the importance tonight, but knowing the two of you, he’d probably begun to tell you only for him to get distracted.

A familiar laugh drew your attention to one corner of the living room where a man who looked dangerously like Karl playfully shrugged out of the grasp of another frat member. His nails were bare and he lacked any piercings, his hair even tamed so it fell just right over his forehead. You couldn’t deny the way your mind ran absolutely feral at the view of him, as if you’d stepped into some strange alternate universe where Karl was actually Carl.

As someone else struck up the conversation in his group, he turned to look over the crowd, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. His eyes brightened as he spotted you in the mix of the group. Whoever had let you into the house handed you and the rest of the people a brochure, something you then realized most of the room was holding.

You snorted slightly as you read, “46th ANNUAL MEMBER AUCTION,” printed boldly across the front page in elegant script. Your stomach twisted slightly at the discovery. You flipped open the pamphlet, seeing a list of numbers and the names of corresponding Brothers.

Karl was 23.

“I didn’t even sign up, honestly,” a voice called in your ear as Karl leaned over your shoulder, peering at the page in your hands. His cologne was more expensive than he usually wore, made obvious by the way it complemented his natural scent with a fuller smell.

You turned slightly, nearly leaning into his warm breath above you as you moved to look at him. “Come on, let them pimp you out,” you joked, your finger underlining one of the details on the back. “It’s for the frat Karl,” you mocked, making him roll his eyes playfully. “You look awfully pretty to not have signed up,” you chided, a small amount of jealousy tugging in your chest.

He ran his tongue across his teeth, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked down at you. “Do you want me to?”

You shrugged. “You know how loyal I am to this frat. I think it’s only right,” you continued to josh, eliciting a low chuckle from him. The smell of his whiskey hung beautifully on him. You’d be damned not to acknowledge what a catch he was.

He pulled his hand from his pocket and settled it on the small of your back, the two of you mumbling to each other as you headed towards the kitchen so he could pour you a drink. As he explained the process of the auction, your nerves started to change drastically. Luckily, your exterior kept this from Karl because you weren’t even sure yourself why you could be feeling so strongly about the event. “... Really, only the married guys get out of it without being heckled all night. It’s… I don’t know. It’s pretty lame.”

“So basically, it’s an event where the guys objectify themselves in the name of the frat." You jested, your eyes glued on his pinky ring, the only symbol of the Karl you knew. "Have you done this before?”

Karl shook his head. “I wasn’t old enough, thank God.” He leaned against the counter beside you, his back to the circulating groups of people so he was only looking at you. As he slouched, he matched your height.

You reached forward, taking the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt between your finger pads. “I’m trying to decide if I’m scared or aroused by this version of you,” you tittered, wanting so badly to feel his teeth against your skin. He smirked at you. “It’s like Wonderbread you. Like you’d have to sign a contract with me before you gave me a hug,” you teased further, making the smug look on his face twist into a laugh.

He leaned closer to you, his hand brushing to lay against the curve of your hip. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can still rip you in half.”

You took a sip of the Brandy in your glass to hide the moan wanting to rip through your throat at the closeness of him. His lips brushed against your skin before pressing a kiss behind your ear subtly. You nudged him away from you reluctantly as Todd strolled into the kitchen, arms raised slightly as if he’d been searching the high heavens for Karl.

He moved to stand between the two of you, reaching for a decanter of a liquid you couldn’t place. Karl crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Karl, I have been looking everywhere for you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pin with Karl’s number on it and nudging it towards him on the counter. “You know, it’s kind of fun that partners can’t bid because-” he paused before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his side. You let out a laugh, resting your hand against his chest as Karl’s eyes darkened at the two of you. “-Your lovebug can have me tonight then, huh?” He mocked, smirking.

“Well, technically, I’m not his partner…” you added, pretending to touch Todd flirtatiously.

Todd’s arms pulled you closer. “You know what I mean, Princess.” You snickered, pushing him off of you as he moved to lean against the sink behind you. “Come on, Karl. I’m practically handing you the opportunity to hook up with MILFs, random TAs, and sorority girls,” he begged, making Karl pinch the bridge of his nose.

“That does sound intriguing,” you chimed, making Karl giggle mildly.

Todd’s eyes lit up with a sarcasticness as if you were actually promoting the idea. “You can go instead if you want to, babygirl,” he offered, tilting his head in an action to resemble a car salesman.

You looked to Karl with raised eyebrows and he shook his head in disbelief at the stupidity of whatever banter you and Todd were striking up. “That would be fun! Please, illegally pimp me out instead. I want to be solicited-”

Todd’s hand reached out to clamp over your mouth. “Okay stop.” He straightened his tie and the pin on his lapel in the shape of a number 12. You quietly wondered who were in the top places and what they were doing to be in those spots. “Karl, you’re a legacy dick. Most of those women out there probably hooked up with your family members and are back for more of that sweet sweet Jacobs-”

Karl cut him off gruffly. “-I’ll do it if you don’t finish that sentence and never bring that to my attention again.” Todd pretended to zip his lips before pointing to the pin and walking off. You took the pin in your hands, trying to ignore the shakiness of your fingers as you pinned it onto his jacket. “You know his name is actually Mark, right? He pretended to be a Romney for his first two years here.”

You snorted. “Don’t feed me that information right now.” You wet your lips, feeling his eyes on you as you brushed your hands down his lapels. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to… I was just joking.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Like, we can leave if you want,” you offered softly.

Karl chuckled, moving his hands up to rest over yours. “Someone’ll pay fifty bucks to take me to some dodgy hotel for ten minutes. It’ll be okay,” he assured. “Maybe I'll have fun, who knows.” He drew you closer once again. You swore you could get drunk off the intoxicating allure of his breath. “I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly worried about having that conversation with him. “If you’re okay with it, I am,” you answered quietly, sending him a small shrug.

He popped a piece of gum in his mouth, shrugging back at you.

Everyone began to gather around the grand piano in one corner of the living room. You could suddenly feel the heat of the massive fireplace against your bare legs as Karl rested an arm against the wall above you, leaning over you slightly. “How much would you bid on me, if you could?” He whispered as Todd explained some rules to the bidders.

You looked up at him reaching up to play with his lot number. You hummed slightly in mock thought. “Maybe a packet of ramen, a Speedway rewards card, and…” you trailed off before digging into your purse and grabbing a handful of quarters, “five dollars in linty coins?” You joked, sending him an innocent smile.

He bit back a laugh. “I feel like you’re the only one that knows my true value,” he quipped sarcastically.

As the auction began to kick off, men were being bought for various currencies, from picnics in the park to gala dates and etcetera. The tension in your shoulders began to cool as there were fewer ambiguous payments. The women and men that paid sums of money were the ones that worried you the most. Karl’s hand slithered up your back until he reached the back of your neck, pressing his fingers into your skin almost possessively.

You focused on the crowd, trying to notice any peering eyes cutting into Karl, but no one seemed to have the slightest clue. Karl’s fingers worked at a knot in your neck, making you want to moan at his touch. You hated being this close to him and unable to mark him as your own. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the skin on your shoulder that wasn’t covered by your dress. “Relax,” he whispered, heat raking through your body at the sound of his voice.

Finally, his number came up. Before the auctioneer could finish introducing him, a handful of sorority girls sparked up with heavy numbers in the air. Your eyes widened and you could feel Karl stiffen behind you at their urgency. As their bids began to grow and add zeros, your heart began to beat in your ears.

“$5000.” Your mouth grew dry as the number halted the noise in the room. Bewilderedly, you searched the room until your eyes landed on a woman in her early-50s. You couldn’t help your mouth slightly fall open. “I’d like to bid $5000,” she repeated. You downed the rest of your Brandy, letting the alcohol sting your throat and warm your stomach. As Karl’s turn closed, your mind went blank. What did I expect to happen? You scorned.

After about an hour, the bidding was over. You plastered on a smile after everyone exited the room, standing before Karl and spending the time you had left letting your mind race with emotion. “What’s wrong?” Karl asked, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You swatted him off. “You excited to spend time with your new mommy?” You chided, making him raise his eyebrows. Your voice came out a bit more condescending than you’d intended.

Something dark flitted across his expression. “Definitely.” He pressed closer to your ear again. “I bet she cums on the slow stroke,” he leered, making you inch away from him. He giggled slightly at his own joke, before noticing your quietness. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, unable to explain just how you were feeling about the situation. It was as if reality had seeped into your bones at what had happened.

Karl ran his fingers against his bottom lip as he looked at you, the skin flushing a deeper red. You’d seen the color too many times to count, but it was usually due to stimulation from you. “Don’t be like that. What’s going on?” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms softly. This seemed to only further allure him. “If you’re gonna act like a brat, I’ll start treating you like a brat,” he whispered, perking your attention. You let your eyes wander back to the ground. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. His calm expression added arousal to your swimming cauldron of feelings.

You pulled out of his grasp. You bit your tongue, grasping at your thoughts and searching for what you wanted to tell him. His grey irises swirled with some kind of worry and what you could only describe as fondness. Instead, you chickened out. “Just use protection, okay?” You faltered.

His features remained quiet as if in thought. In one swift movement, his hand brushed against your jaw, pressing his lips against yours. Your whole body relaxed into his touch, your eyes closing to relish in the feeling of silent loyalty to you. As his tongue brushed against your lips, it was as if he was stating just what you meant to him. If you weren’t in the right mind, you’d moan a gracious pledge of your mutual devotion into his mouth.

He pulled away shortly, leaving you flushed and winded as he reached his thumb up to swipe away the smearing of your lipstick. “I’m in your fuckin’ pocket, remember?” He acquiesced almost emotionlessly, before dropping his hands and letting you stumble. You had to will your body not to grin at what he’d said as the woman who bid on him approached the two of you.

She shook hands with both of you talking about the thrill of the event and how she’s gone for the last couple of years. “Ma’am, he’s a virgin. Please be careful,” you noted as Karl helped her into her coat. Karl’s eyes shot daggers into you, biting back a laugh of his.

The woman giggled with her whole chest. “Oh, darling. That won’t be an issue,” she gasped as she caught her breath. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your smile as you made eye contact with an ill-looking Karl.

You opted to head back to your apartment, eyeing the clock each time you get an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your roommate had gone out for the night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts. As two hours passed, you were beginning to feel phantom notifications from your phone, your heart skipping with faltering hope.

As if your prayers had finally been answered, a brief knock at your door sent you jumping over the back of the couch and tugging on a hoodie before you threw open the door. Karl stood leaning against the frame and cracking his knuckles. He eyed you curiously as he noticed your urgency. His shirt was barely buttoned and untucked, hair ruffled and curling here and there. As you let him into your apartment, your mouth grew dry with anticipation. Karl slumped onto your couch, kicking his feet up on your coffee table and raising an eyebrow at you.

You wet your lips, sitting on the arm of a chair near his side of the couch. “How was it?” You asked. “Did you learn anything?”

He scoffed, humor dancing behind his eyes. “You will never guess where I was.” You furrowed your brows at him as if it wasn’t obvious. To this he shook his head, sitting up to lean his elbows on his knees, reaching forward to pull you into the empty spot beside him. “So, that woman owns an art studio downtown and she holds classes for whoever. The nail polish girl in my art class is like the right-hand man to that woman and she caught wind of the auction,” he paused to loosen a few more of his buttons. “The woman has always gone to the auction, but the girl knew I was participating this year and recommended me.”

“Okay, so… You were in an art class all night?” You probed, making him grin smugly at you.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”

You snorted, leaning into the cushions and turning towards him. “They weren’t drawing you nude were they?” You joked sarcastically, the mental image proving to be almost unthinkable. His eyes shifted to his lap as he chuckled and you punched his arm. “You’re kidding!”

He shook his head, biting back a grin. “I had old dudes staring at my dick for two hours straight and trying to recreate it in charcoal.” You covered your mouth with your hand, waiting for him to reveal that he was joking. “They liked my cheekbones,” he taunted.

You huffed in disbelief. “Oh my fucking God.” Your mind was utterly blank. “So, you didn’t sleep with anyone?”

He smiled at you. “Nope. You’re still my only one.” Your cheeks flushed at this. “That being said, you were so incredibly immature earlier,” he chided, making your eyebrow perk with discontent.

“Excuse me,” you nearly hissed.

His eyes navigated your body. “Jealous little brat, honestly,” he scoffed. “Make it up to me.” You stared at him blankly, as if unable to comprehend his words. He moved his arms to rest on the back of the couch, letting his legs spread a bit further. You watched him intently as his jaw tensed, looking slightly intimidating as he eyed you. His calm expression started you, gears turning behind his eyes. “Did I stutter?” He nipped.

You climbed onto his lap, letting his hands slip beneath your hoodie as he gripped your hips, pulling you down to grind against his leg. Heat spread across your body at the friction, realizing now just how needy you’d been for most of the night. Funny how you didn’t even think of taking care of yourself without Karl there.

He tugged your collar to the side, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, his warm breath a stark contrast to the cool temperature of the room. You felt his teeth glide over the valleys of your collarbones as if threatening to mark you as the brat you were. His brat.

His fingers dug into your skin, his knee bouncing slightly as he pushed you to increase your speed. You moaned against his shoulder, reaching the hand that wasn’t planted securely on his arm towards his belt. The clasp was almost second nature for you, considering the various places and positions you’d been in and wrestling with it.

As you slipped your hand into his pants, he groaned, bucking against your touch as if he'd been hungry for you all night. He rested his hand in the crook of your neck, roughly bringing your lips to his own. Instead of kissing you immediately, his lips brushed against yours, the smell of his breath dancing against your skin and forcing you to want him more as your hips moved to make up for the lack of his taste on your tongue.

Your hand gripped him through his boxers, earning a muffled grunt of pleasure from Karl. His eyes threatened to roll as you began to palm him, his breathing deep and needy. Curses hissed through his teeth, the sound further adding to how turned on you were. "Give me your mouth," he moaned, a demand you were more than happy to fulfill as you slipped onto your knees in front of him. Karl's hand gathered your hair as you tugged his boxers down. Your fingers traced the hem of his dress pants that ran against the inside of his thigh before attending to his arousal once again.

Then something clicked into your mind. "I've been thinking about what Todd said," you began, Karl's reaction dulling as you began to pump your hand around his dick. "About me sleeping with him," you continued, your voice dripping with a venomous innocence.

Karl twitched in your hand, his grip on your hair tightening. You moaned slightly as his eyes hardened. "Tread lightly, pet," he nearly growled. The gruffness of his voice sending goosebumps down your back. "You're on thin fucking ice already."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, crowding his lap. "I wonder if he's bigger than you," you commented.

You seemed to find the last straw rather quickly as Karl grabbed your arms, pulling you up and throwing you on the couch beneath him. "Fucking bitch," he snapped, ripping your underpants down your legs. "And here I was about to make this about you," he chuckled darkly, leaning on his knee to slip his jacket off his shoulders and discard his button-up shirt.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him before he ground his hips against yours roughly, clashing his lips against yours. He tugged on your hair tightly, tongue pressing into your mouth.

His lips left yours, pulling your hoodie over your head and throwing it across the room before digging his teeth into your chest. You moaned at his efforts, basking in the roughness of his actions. Karl pushed himself into you without warning, and without hesitation, he began to snap his hips into yours. Your thighs tightened around his waist, attempting to adjust to his speed before he hooked one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, pushing it towards your chest.

His hand moved to wrap around your neck possessively, his eyes burning into yours with a mix of lust and glimmers of the sadistic side of him that loved to see you tremble beneath his touch as he restricted your breathing, only for you to gasp for air when he allowed. "Fucking brat," he barked, pounding into you faster. "Bring him up again and I'll make your life miserable," he groaned, spitting into your mouth to illustrate his point.

You let him take his anger out on you as you fought not to grin at the pure sparks of pleasure pulsing through your veins at the view of him completely dominating you. Your eyes fluttered shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt not to cum from the intense stimulation, your fingers digging into the softness of the couch beneath you as you searched for something to anchor yourself.

Karl leaned back slightly, dragging a hand through his hair as he slowed his hips, his eyes glued to yours, the new angle driving him deeper into you. The view of him above you like this oddly reminded you of when the two of you went to parties and spent the night grinding against each other in the massive crowds of your peers to an unidentifiable song.

Any idiot could tell Karl could fuck by the way he danced.

Karl pressed his hips firmly against yours, bucking into you relentlessly once again, pulling your hands above your head and holding your wrists in his fist. He kissed you harshly once again, swallowing your attempts to catch your breath and dragging his teeth across your lips again.

You felt unable to control your orgasm as it raced through you, your moans echoing into Karl's mouth as your body tensed. Karl used your orgasm to ride out the rest of his own pleasure, smirking slightly at your disheveled appearance.

As the air settled, the two of you straighten up the living room, making sure to find each article of clothing so your roommate wouldn't comment. Karl sat back down on the couch, reaching an arm out for you. You raised an eyebrow at him hesitantly, with a small smirk playing on your lips.

He huffed jokingly. "Come on, I can't fuck your brains out and not hug you at least for a bit," he joshed, gesturing for you to join him.

You let out a small laugh. The man with multiple piercings, tattoos, and a glare that can insight nightmares, was always the first to ask to cuddle. You tucked into the spot beneath his arm, letting his grasp tighten around you as you wrapped a blanket around the both of you.

His heartbeat thumped against your ear, making you want to slip into a deep sleep. "I think we should set Todd up with Nail Polish Girl," you joked, breaking into the comfortable silence between the two of you. You glanced up at Karl as you said this, hoping to gauge his reaction as you silently apologized for what you'd said earlier in the name of getting him riled up.

He chuckled shortly. "We should probably straighten ourselves out before we meddle in other people's relationships," he mocked. It'd come out as a light-hearted statement, but it tugged heavily at your nerves.

You pushed yourself to sit up and look at him, suddenly anxious. "What do you mean? We're fine, right?"

Karl smirked. "Well yeah, but sooner or later we're going to have to figure out what we're doing." He wet his lips. "I mean, how much longer are we supposed to just mindlessly hook up."

"We're not mindlessly hooking up. We're friends too," you reasoned, your voice uneven as you attempted to inject humor in your statements, hoping to mask your hesitation.

He rolled his eyes slightly. "Yeah, but don't you want more? Like who do you say I am when your friends ask?" He raised his eyebrows, shortly waiting for a response before continuing. "A booty call, right? Am I supposed to be a booty call forever?"

You were taken aback slightly. His tone wasn't provocative, but that didn't stop your heart from racing. "What are you saying?"

He shrugged. "What does it sound like I'm saying?" He sat up a bit more to angle towards you. "I don't mean now, but eventually I'd like this to mean a bit more."

You stood up from the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you reached for a pair of discarded sweatpants and slipped them on. "This is a lot to think about," you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with him. Your mind raced with the different outcomes of what he was talking about. Also, all of them involved the two of you going stale and him finding comfort in other people. "I mean… what we have now is good. Isn't it?"

Karl stood too, raising his hands slightly as if he were consoling a cornered animal. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I thought we were on the same page?" You rubbed the back of your neck nervously, looking for words. "I- uh. I'm sorry." His hands fisted at his sides awkwardly, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Sirens wailed from outside your windows, the street becoming the only noise in your apartment as he awaited your next move. "I'm actually… gonna head out. I'll uh… I'll text you later," he stated, grabbing his jacket, gauging your reaction.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"

He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.

Tag List:

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Injury II

Characters: Kaeya, Ningguang, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,650

Warnings: Various injuries, blood, burns, minor villain death

Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured.

Author’s Note: Okay so after the mind numbing fear of my computer almost dying and now maybe emitting a weird smell I’m five seconds away from pure panic. But the show much go on! Even if my word document keeps blacking out.

This is my first time writing for Ningguang! I hope I do my girl justice, she’s voiced by my fav VA, she’s a total powerhouse, I love her so much.

I tried to make all of the injuries personal to each character in some way. Funny enough Zhongli’s was the hardest to figure out. I eventually settled upon the act of you being injured causing Zhongli’s personal angst, rather than the cause of the injury. I hope it came out well!

Kaeya

Kaeya didn’t often let himself fall into fear. Not since he’d been young did he feel that he could indulge in such a sentiment. True to his vision he’d frozen that part of himself, and now when panic seized him he could feel nothing but stone cold determination, and the need to continue forward without hesitation. Fear was hardly alien to him, he could conjure up the emotion all too well, but it had been dulled and replaced by cynicism and coldness. And occasionally guilt.

Looking back on it Kaeya wasn’t even sure why the two of you had strayed so close to Dragonspine, so close snowflakes were congregating in your hair.

You’d called him a winter fairy in jest at the time, wondering if he wasn’t truly the ruler of that mountain of frost. He’d laughed then, before threatening to take you away to his fairy court. “That would be quite an easy task.” You’d replied. “You’ve already captured my heart after all.”

The two of you were strolling on the rocks that lined the river which separated Dragonspine from the greater Monstadt area. Although adventurers usually roamed the area in the daytime it was now evening, and the lack of people certainly made up for the cold in Kaeya’s mind. He could only be his true self around you after all. Otherwise it was the charming and slick Cavalry Captain, a man who always knew what to say and never harbored any doubts in his mind. Not that he wasn’t still charming around you, he loved seeing you blush from his effusive praise, loved the way you buried your head in his shoulder if the flirting and the teasing ramped up enough. But there was a sincerity to his words that one couldn’t find normally in Kaeya, and he loved to show you bits and pieces of his soul, relieved to finally have someone to talk to.

“Watch your step.” You warned, grabbing onto Kaeya’s hand as he slid a little ways along a rock.

“Thank you darling, although I daresay I’m more worried about you. After all who’s the snow fairy here and who’s the wind sprite, liable to blow away at any moment?”

“So cheesy.” You mumbled, shaking your head, though Kaeya could’ve sworn your cheeks were slightly redder than they were a few moments ago. Laughing he wrapped his arm around your waist. You snuggled into his fur lined coat. “Cold.” You murmured, though you made no move to disconnect yourself. Kaeya smiled and brought his other hand around you in a soft embrace.

“Sorry my dearest, but you’re in love with an icicle.”

“Only terms of magic.” You shot back. “Otherwise you’re a nice warm fire. And don’t you forget that.”

The two of you headed a little ways down, closer to the river. A small group of frost flowers had made it to this side of the banks, and you were adamant on picking some. “They’re so beautiful!” You explained to Kaeya. “And incredibly strong, I can’t believe they managed to grow in that permafrost. They’re simply lovely.”

“Just be careful.” Kaeya commented, standing a little ways back. He didn’t like getting near the river, a river so cold it was always at nearly freezing at the bottom. Cold water and a vision of Cryo didn’t mix well.

“I’ll be fine.” You hopped to your feet, a bouquet of pale blue in your hand. You were smiling from your victory, face full of light and happiness.

It was an expression that changed swiftly as you lost your balance and plummeted into the freezing waters.

Immediately Kaeya leapt down from the rocks he was standing on, kneeling near where you were standing a moment ago. The river wasn’t very fast, bogged down by its width and how far it was away from the waterfalls in the warmer parts of Monstadt. Still it cut off very quickly, having barely the semblance of a beach before opening into a deep chasm, and anyone who fell in it would quickly fall into cold shock. Already your limbs had started seizing, and you were hyperventilating hard. Your arms felt like dead weight, and every second that passed your head dipped lower into the freezing water.

Kaeya gingerly put his hand out to make a platform of ice for him to stand on. Whatever happened he couldn’t fall in as well, it would mean the death of you two. Fear had reared its ugly head again and Kaeya twisted those feelings into action. No matter what he had to act fast and sure. Hesitation was fatal.

Plunging his hand into the water, sucking in a deep breath as the ice that still coated his palms and fingers made contact with the freezing river Kaeya hauled you up onto the icy platform. Taking off his coat he wrapped you up. Removing your gloves so the frozen water wouldn’t be in contact with your already freezing skin Kaeya cursed as he ran towards Springvale, the nearest place he could think of. He’d lugged you onto his back, and could feel the freezing water through his shirt. As he ran he kept up a stream of slightly shaky conversation, rattling off what little he knew of hypothermia.

“It’ll be alright darling, I promise it’ll be alright. You’re just going through shock right now, okay? You’ll be alright, I promise. Just stay awake a little while longer. I know you must be tired from all that excitement, but just stay awake a little longer, just a little longer and then you’ll be nice and warm, just stay awake right now okay?” His voice became more and more desperate as his fear started to tumble out of his grasp, but he kept moving. He wouldn’t lose control of himself now, not until you were safe.

Finally he arrived at Springvale and you’d been rushed to the village doctor. Kaeya was told to go and wait somewhere else, and preferably change out of his freezing cold shirt, but you’d grabbed his hand as he turned to leave and after that he refused to budge, instead borrowing a shirt from the village. He’d reimburse the people who let you two borrow their clothes later.

The entire process was a terrifying one, as you were slowly brought back to warmth. Kaeya took the opportunity to learn as much as he could, noting that you shouldn’t massage limbs back to warmth for fear of heart attack and – much to his chagrin he later joked when the situation was far enough in the past – alcohol was too much of a depressant on your system and could lead to death. All throughout he kept talking to you, even though there were times you didn’t seem to hear, times when he thought his heart would split in two.

Still it was evident you were going to survive and when you’d finally finished being warmed up Kaeya thought he could cry in relief, if only he’d been numbed from such an act for so many years. You’d run into some sort of rock in the water, and the long gash down the side of your leg was later determined by the doctor to reveal torn muscle. It’d take about a month and a half for you to recover. Kaeya thought he should’ve felt worse about it, but in the moment he felt nothing but relief, utter relief in the knowledge you were going to be fine. Utter relief that came with having almost lost you.

Kaeya had carried you back to Monstadt, much to your consternation. All the ways back you mumbled about how his penchant for drama seemed to have increased tenfold. Kaeya simply shook his head, not bothering to ask how you would’ve gotten back otherwise with your leg in the shape it was. Still it was a relief to both of you to see the city walls. Even more of a relief when you finally arrived home, safe and sound.

“I’m so glad you were there.” You confessed as Kaeya sat you down on the couch, propping up your leg and pulling a chair up next to you. “I don’t know what I would’ve done had I fallen and you weren’t there.”

“You probably wouldn’t have been there in the first place.” Kaeya remarked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. You brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned into it slightly, grateful for the contact between you two. It’d been hours but the panic that he’d felt still tugged at his consciousness, as if any moment you might slip away again and leave him panicked and alone.

“Were you afraid?” You asked.

“Of course I was afraid.” Kaeya’s reply came swift and sure. “I was terrified, terrified in a way that I haven’t been in years.” Kaeya’s eyes clouded over, as if reaching deep into his memories. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and then your palm. “I thought that you might die, and in that moment I was ready to curse the world all over again.”

“But I didn’t die.” You said solemnly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“And that’s because of you. Because you reacted quickly, because you had the magic with which to do so, and most of all because you never hesitated. And because of that I’m alive and well now. Injuries aside I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Kaeya knew you were right. You were alive. You weren’t going to go where he couldn’t follow. The fear coiling in his stomach began to subside. He’d been so afraid, yes, and in that fear he’d managed to find the strength and determination to save you. But now you were safe and he no longer needed to rely on that strength; he could give into his relief. Realizing this, realizing how frightened he’d been and how that was now part of a past he could move forward from, could truly forget, Kaeya could only marvel at his relief. Only then did the tears begin to fall.

Ningguang

If there was one thing Ningguang wasn’t expecting out of today it was your leg collapsing and her winding up in the waiting room of the Liyue hospital, mind replaying the last week or so, wondering where she might’ve realized something was wrong.

It seemed like the kind of thing Keqing would make a joke about. Here Ningguang was, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, the most powerful woman in the trade capital of Liyue; here she was, her world completely gone awry, completely shattered by your injury.

A stress fracture, the doctor had said. It was the kind of injury that developed slowly and came about after weeks instead of in moments. The initial strain was usually something mundane, a sprain, a bruise, maybe you’d walked on your foot for too long. But after sometimes weeks of ignoring pain and swelling your body couldn’t take it any longer. Ten weeks, that’s how long you would be laid up. And Ningguang couldn’t help but feel every one of those ten weeks was her fault.

She should’ve noticed it. That train of thought continued all throughout the process of you being treated at, and eventually discharged from, the hospital. You weren’t just one of the people she worked with daily, weren’t just her closest colleague. You were the person that Ningguang loved more than anything in this world. How could she possibly not have noticed the signs?

Ningguang found herself obsessively trying to connect the warning signs that must’ve been there. She knew that your foot had been aching for some time, but though she’d been vaguely concerned she’d said nothing other than a simple “be careful”. She’d never thought to check after you later, sure that it was nothing. Now she felt nothing but shame, both that of a personal and of a greater kind. How could she manage looking after all of Liyue if she couldn’t even look after you?

You noticed Ningguang’s silence as you two made your way out of the hospital and towards the apartment you shared. Although Ningguang was perhaps seen as a reticent individual you’d found her surprisingly open, always ready to discuss things that were of interest either to you or to her. She wasn’t the kind of person to walk along in silence; not when she was around those that she cared for, not unless she was thinking about something important, not unless…

Finally you two arrived home. You collapsed on the couch, tired and ready to either read or nap. Ningguang was preparing some tea and a various array of fruit, not that there was much food in the lavish apartment you two shared. Considering the workload between the both of you it was perhaps unsurprising that there was nothing much to eat. That would have to change, Ningguang noted; she’d make sure that you were recovering in the most comfortable way possible. It was the least she could do.

“Are you feeling well?” Ningguang asked, placing the food and tea on the table in your room. You nodded.

“I feel fine, although I’m not looking forward to the walk to the Qixing headquarters. I have to admit dear this might be the only time I’m a bit glad that I don’t have to make my way to the Jade Chamber every day.” Ningguang smiled at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She sat silently, sipping her tea slowly. Your expression clouded over. “Hey, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s nothing my love.” Ningguang spoke up quickly, leaning over and kissing you on the cheek. “I’m just sorry to see you like this.”

“Well you can’t blame yourself. You know that, right?”

Ningguang found she couldn’t bring herself to lie to you. Your gaze, though soft, seemed to pierce right through all her excuses and all her bluffing. She sighed softly. Maybe it would be better to be upfront about it, clear and concise, how one should always be. At least then she could apologize properly.

“In truth I do blame myself. I can’t believe I was so neglectful of your health, so blind to your pain.” She shook her head, staring at the hand that was holding yours. A disconnected part of her thought of how well the two fit together, fingers intertwined softly, your palm warm and comforting.

“If you were blind to this then so was I.” You spoke softly but firmly, refusing to sugar coat your words. Ningguang admired you for it, even if she didn’t believe you, something painfully clear in the expression on her face. “You cannot blame yourself.” You continued, “I won’t let you. I don’t want you beating yourself up for something that neither of us predicted. If you feel the need to blame yourself for this you must also blame me; I was the one walking on the injury without paying enough attention.”

“But – ” Ningguang paused, realizing the truth behind your words, slouching slightly she sat in deep thought. “I… I realize there’s not a lot of logic behind my thinking.”

“Well feelings are hardly logical.” You pointed out, squeezing her hand. “And because they’re illogical they don’t go away quickly. But I at least want you to try and combat your guilt with what I’ve told you. Because just like you hate seeing me in this cast I hate seeing you in pain.”

Ningguang nodded, heart filled with a deep sense of love and tenderness. Leaning over to give you a kiss she smiled softly. You did too. For a moment you two basked in each other’s presence and happiness, before you smile turned mischievous.

“Although… I won’t object to a little pampering.” Ningguang chuckled, shaking her head. But her smile was real this time, and you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

“You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I know I am.” You replied. “And you’re lucky I adore you.”

“I am.” Ningguang’s reply was just as sure, was full of quiet but strong emotion. She was lucky. And she would never take you or your love for granted. No matter what.

Xiao

By the time he’d met you Xiao had long come to the conclusion that he’d never find it in him to like humans.

Humans were dirty, they were untrustworthy and full of darkness, they broke things without thinking about it, mangled their own people, their own families and friends and countrymen. Humans slaughtered one another without thinking of how it might stain them, and when they weren’t killing they were stealing and lying and ruining the land around them. How could he, a being designed solely to destroy the darkness in the world, ever find in himself the will or the ability to look past all that?

When he’d met you and had fallen in love in earnest this view had still changed ultimately very little. But even if you’d admitted that what he said was mostly true, you’d found that you still wanted him to learn to care at least a little bit about humanity. I mean you were ultimately one of them at your core. It didn’t feel right to prop yourself up as the one great exception, not when there were other people who were certainly like you in mind and in morality. Xiao silently disagreed with this analysis; to him there never was and never would be someone like you, in all of Teyvat. Still, he felt compelled to try, though more for your sake than for his, and as the weeks had gone on he’d begun to look at humanity not with any sort of respect or hope but with a sort of begrudging curiosity, and an admittance that maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of that light you saw in it.

What a fool he’d been.

Although Xiao was aware of the growing threat of treasure hoarders across Liyue – so widespread that they’d even managed to eat away at the tranquil lands surrounding Jueyen Karst – he’d never considered them a serious threat. So when the two of you accidentally ran into a group of them while exploring some of the older Liyue ruins Xiao didn’t bother to do much more than wrap an arm around your waist, sure that even the most idiotic of treasure hoarders wouldn’t be so foolish as to pick a fight with either an adeptus or their beloved. You seemed unfazed at any rate, explaining that the two of you were simply passing by and had no desire to pick a fight; if they’d be so kind the two of you would be on your way.

Perhaps the treasure hoarders were well aware of the fact that you could report them to the Liyue Qixing. Perhaps they were simply in a bad mood. Either way your words apparently did nothing. Xiao was becoming tenser and tenser, feeling as if something catastrophic was about to happen. That moment came to pass when one of the treasure hoarders pulled out a knife and threw it, lodging itself with deadly accuracy into your torso.

At that point Xiao felt himself overcome with a supernatural sort of calm, a calm which raced to cover up the anguish and rage that was coursing through him, threatening to burn him from the inside out. He only paused to make sure you didn’t hit the ground hard, before summoning his spear. Ignoring the cries of the treasure hoarders he made quick work of disposing of them, for what was a measly human, a piece of trash, when compared to that which had slayed countless demons? A small part of him cried out against the act, pointing out the fact that every time he wielded his polearm to kill it might bring him closer to the precipice, the fact that you were hurt mattered more than revenge, the fact that he was going to regret killing in front of you. He ignored it. At that moment there was nothing in his mind, it was as empty and staid as a clear pool of water. The only ripple in it was the way you’d jolted back in surprised, and the way you’d let out a cry before crumpling.

Xiao didn’t look back to see the havoc he’d wreaked. Instead he ran to your side. Peeling off his gloves, worried that they might bring infection, he pressed his bare hands to your wound, desperately trying to staunch the blood that was spilling out, ignoring the shocks that jolted through his hands, the result of the dagger somehow being infused with electro. The feeling of blood, your blood, beneath his fingers was nauseating, and for a moment Xiao felt his head filling with static as the pure panic that he’d felt began to overcome the initial rush of adrenaline. Snapping out of it when you let out a groan of pain Xiao looked into your eyes. They were clouded, and for a moment the adeptus was afraid you might be on the verge of passing out – had you really lost so much blood? Holding you tightly, one hand never leaving your wound, Xiao summoned a burst of air. His thoughts were still too chaotic to be processed, there was only one thing connecting them all. Let them live. If there’s any justice in this world, please let them live.

Verr Goldet had grasped the situation as soon as she saw Xiao appear on the balcony, face contorted in fear. Taking you to her room, she’d instructed Xiao to get one of the doctors from Liyue while she and the resident apothecary took care of you. Xiao did the task without thinking, and once he’d arrived with the doctor he refused to leave your side. Xiao knew death better than most adepti, certainly more than most humans. It was cold and unfeeling, and had a nasty habit of leaping onto people when they least expected it. It didn’t matter to him that all three, Goldet, the apothecary, and the doctor, said that you would be fine; Xiao was going to be there the entire time.

Eventually you managed to rouse yourself from the pain induced stupor, and when you did you saw Xiao first, eyes wide with fear and relief, tears threatening to spill down his face.

In the end you’d been lucky. Although the dagger had ruptured your spleen Xiao had acted quickly enough to avert catastrophe. You were going to survive, though it’d be 12 weeks most likely until you were completely recovered. The moment of crisis having passed the two of you were finally given a moment alone.

“Are you alright?” Xiao immediately asked. You didn’t make a move to answer, instead cupping Xiao’s cheek before moving to take his hand. At that moment how Xiao remembered. Oh; the blood. Quickly moving away he ran to the nearest basin of water, scrubbing furiously. As the water turned red a faint smell of iron filled the air; it was the most disgusting thing Xiao had ever smelt, and he scrubbed even harder. You waited silently as he finished cleaning his hands and disposing of the water. Finally he came back to sit next to you, still hesitating a moment before placing his palm in yours.

“I… I don’t understand how you could ever like humans.” That was the first thing Xiao could think of. “They betrayed you. Without even blinking. That man, all those men and women, they would’ve ended your life without even thinking about it. They would’ve killed you and lived without ever having such a thing weigh on their conscience. Humans never think about the weight of their sins. They just keep committing atrocities.”

“And what about you, Xiao. Will their deaths weigh on you?”

“As much as all the others.” Xiao wished he could be matter of fact about it, but he found that trait of his had somehow disappeared. Instead an emotion washed over him, so unfamiliar and unexplainable it seemed to choke him. “Perhaps more.” He managed to get out, before beginning to cry in earnest.

You would’ve died. If he hadn’t been there you would’ve died. For you he gladly shouldered the weight of human life, would do so again and again if only to ensure your safety. And yet it was such a heavy weight, and no matter how many Xiao killed it wouldn’t heal you.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. You shook your head.

“Xiao I always knew that you weren’t going to be able to see humans as I see them immediately. And I know that you have a relationship with death and killing that most humans, most beings, will never have. I’m not going to blame you, nor will I turn on you. I cannot pretend that what happened didn’t make me angry. In retrospect it made me incredibly angry. It’s also true that – had you not been there – I would’ve raised my own weapon in self-defense. But now I’m going to ask you for one thing, and one thing only.”

“What?”

“Help me recover. Help me recover and let me help you recover. If there’s one thing I don’t want to happen now it’s for you to turn away from me and from everyone else, to let yourself be consumed. I want you to have somewhere you can let your feelings exist, and I want somewhere I can feel happy and comfortable as myself. You make me feel that way, so even if it’s selfish I don’t want you to turn away. And I don’t want you to grieve for me. Injured as I may be I’m not dead.” There was a pause as you let yourself catch your breath, having gotten more and more excited as you went on. “I realize that’s more than one thing.” You concluded, a bit sheepish.

Xiao said nothing for a while before leaning towards you. “May I?” He whispered. You nodded and Xiao pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t one of fire or passion. It was different, defined within the parameters of fear and relief, there seemed to be a sort of desperation in it, yet it was surprisingly sedate. Pulling away Xiao buried his face in your neck, careful to make sure he wasn’t touching where you’d been stabbed.

“I will. I promise.” He whispered. You nodded, smiling softly. But Xiao couldn’t bring himself to smile, not just yet.

Xiao couldn’t understand humans. They were dirty and cruel and lived without fear of consequences. Their actions haunted him and he found them easier to hate than to understand. But for you he’d try, because to him there was one thing strong than all, strong than fear, stronger than mistrust, stronger than hatred.

And that was the love he held for you.

Zhongli

If there was one thing Zhongli hadn’t been prepared for when it came to falling in love with humans it was their combination of fragility and utter ignorance to said fragility.

One of Zhongli’s favorite things to do was to simply sit and listen to you talk about your life. Humans fascinated Zhongli, it was one of the reasons he’d ultimately given up his place as Rex Lapis; inside him lived a desire to interact with humanity in a more intimate way, to know what made people behave as they did and to perhaps grow closer to them in the process.

But despite all that he still wasn’t ready for the utter fear he felt when listening to the stories of you getting hurt. You’d laughed off scrapes and bruises and fractures. The time you’d accidentally ripped off your nail was a painful yet funny anecdote, and the fact that you’d fractured your kneecap as a child was something you now looked back on with an odd sense of nostalgia.

Zhongli didn’t understand why these stories frightened him on such a visceral level. Such injuries were nothing to gods and adepti. Although the idea of a broken bone was certainly an irritation there was nothing more in it, and the kind of injuries that could easily kill humans would to Zhongli be the kind of thing that would be unpleasant for its novelty, not for its potential fatality.

He didn’t bring up these thoughts to you, feeling as if they’d somehow place an undue burden on you, or perhaps he was afraid you’d stop telling him about yourself. Still it lurked at the back of his mind, the fear of what might happen to you.

The fears that Zhongli harbored were proven in the most mundane, and thus most poignant, way. The two of you had been preparing a meal when suddenly you’d stumbled on an uneven part of the floor. Reaching your hands out to steady yourself your arm had landed flat on the hot stove, the stove which had been heating up for the past fifteen or so minutes. The scream that you let out sent a shock through Zhongli which shook him to his core. It rang through his ears incessantly, a terrifying reminder of how breakable humans were.

You’d immediately yanked your arm off from the stove but the sight that met both his and your eyes was a ghastly one. The skin on your arm was charred various colors, white blisters mixed with black flaky skin, all outlined in a terrible circle of red. You were shaking, and you face had turned a frightful ashen color. Springing into action Zhongli wracked his brain for all he could remember about burns. If the burn is serious enough go to the hospital. Never try to treat intense burns yourself as the burning has gone deeper than the initial layer of skin, raise your burn above your heart. Go to the hospital. Slinging your arm around his shoulder so that it was raised, whisper soft words of reassurance as you let out a shriek of pain, Zhongli half walked half carried you to the hospital, all while the same thought was running through his head.

How fragile humans are.

The doctors had insisted you stay overnight. Apparently the burn was bad enough to require surgery. Zhongli’s stomach had dropped as he was told that, but he managed to nod in response. Walking back home Zhongli felt all in a daze. He barely made it in the door before he collapsed, fear having seeped the energy out of him. The world pressed down on him, heavier than it’d ever been before. At least you’d be okay, he reminded himself. If he had anything to cling to at least he had that.

Zhongli was the first visitor to arrive at the hospital, having given Hu Tao the run of the funeral home as he spent as much time as possible with you. You were well enough, although a bit bogged down from the painkillers you’d been given. You’d once offhandedly commented that although magic infused medicine tended to be safer for the patient – more successful and less addictive – it was also more powerful; now Zhongli could see you weren’t kidding.

Your burn was wrapped up carefully, the doctors had managed to take the charred skin of, you’d explain, but now the burn had to be treated with the utmost care until the surgery later in the afternoon, infection was no joke.

“Well this’ll certainly be an interesting anecdote.” You let out half a laugh. “Not that I’m happy this happened, but at least this will shut up the next person who complains about how cardio was the most painful thing they’ve experienced.”

“I don’t know how you can be so cavalier about it.” Zhongli replied, tone soft and introspective. “It seems to terrifying to me, how easily humans are hurt.”

“Hey, I’ll be fine.” You assured him, voice soft but firm. “I understand how to adepti and archons and gods this might be terrifying. I’d be the first to admit we can’t really keep up with you in terms of pure healing and resistance to injury. But we’ve continued on this far haven’t we?” You smiled softly. “I promise I’m not about to die from something like a kitchen accident.”

“But what if next time it’s not your arm?” Zhongli replied. “What if it’s your neck or your chest? What if you cut yourself too deeply, what if your cut becomes infected. There are so many things I haven’t thought about until now, so many things that could hurt you. It frightens me terribly.”

“I’m very grateful that you’re worrying for me like this. But Zhongli?” You waited for his eyes to meet yours, smiling once more when he faced you. “You cannot be consumed by your anxiety. Believe me humans worry about these kinds of things. What if I tripped and fell and broke my neck, what if I scratched myself and developed and infection, what if I choked on an apple? These fears live with us, sometimes constantly, but we cannot let them consume us. As much as I’m flattered and glad you care for my wellbeing so much, I also don’t want you consumed by it, nor do I want to be treated like glass.”

“I cannot understand how you’re so resilient.” Zhongli replied after a short pause. You shrugged.

“We are because we must be.”

Zhongli knew in his heart that these fears he harbored weren’t going to go away. He knew that they were going to become more and more apparent through the month of your initial recovery, and through the longer period too as scar tissue formed and subsided.

Humans were indeed fragile. But if there was one thing stronger than said fragility it was their even greater determination to supersede it. Humans may be fragile in body, but they were stronger in spirit even than the gods.

That was something Zhongli wasn’t going to forget. Not for a very long time.

#my computer's about to die but this was totally worth it #also I never want to learn that much about burns again oof #tonight was wild #also I love ningguang so much aaa #kaeya #ningguang #xiao #zhongli #kaeya x reader #ningguang x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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spideyhexx · 3 years ago

Text

filthy; s. r.

pairing; steve rogers x female!reader

a/n: this is dedicated to @vineridden💕 mean/evil steve is superior

masterlist reblogs/comments/feedback is appreciated!

summary; you intentionally piss steve off, but at least you get what you want!

NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: mean!steve. lots of teasing/humiliation. slapping. hair pulling. oral (female receiving). riding. crying but good crying. unprotected sex. squirting. spitting/cumplay.

word count; 2.6k

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

You’d be lying to yourself if you said making Steve angry was an accident.

Granted, it’s pretty easy to piss him off. He wanted everything to be perfect, always. Mister “my plan is the best plan” even though the old Captain has had his fair share of mishaps.

Ever since the tension broke between you and Steve just a few weeks ago, a fiery kiss that resulted in him pounding into you against his bedroom wall, he’s been a bit more cold.

You can’t tell if he’s being rude to continue fucking with you or if he truly regrets having sex. Either way, you wanted to light his fuse. You wanted to see the deep crease in his brow and how serious his face gets.

All you did was take a turn in the dimly lit, abandoned HYDRA facility.

Albeit a left turn instead of a right, like Steve instructed you to. How were you supposed to know a group of HYDRA agents were stashed away in one of the rooms in that hallway?

Regardless, it still jeopardized the mission and cut it short, leaving the team empty handed.

To be fair, you felt a little bad. Rebelling against Steve’s orders to purposely get on his bad side was fun, but maybe you took it too far? Nobody got hurt, but also nothing was accomplished.

Usually when Steve was mad he’d shout a few angry words at someone but this time he’s completely silent.

He gives you a stern look before jumping in the passenger seat, shrugging off questions from the team.

You began to worry you did take it too far. But a light ‘ping’ sound goes off and you check your phone to see a text from the Captain himself.

Skip the debriefing. Come to my room after you wash up.

The text bubbles pop up then disappear, leaving you with those two sentences to interpret and overthink the whole way back to the compound.

You couldn’t scrub the dirt off of your body faster as you take the quickest shower of your life.

Pondering for only a moment before deciding, fuck it, you throw on your favorite lacy set, covering it with a big t shirt. As you walk down the hallway to Steve’s room, you hope to dear god he’s really as into you as you are into him.

He’s most likely still mad at you, but that’s how you got fucked in the first place. You called him a jerk and it struck him deeper than you expected. So he fucked you until the only words out of your mouth were about how perfect he was.

You knock lightly on his door and it whips open. Steve pulls you in and shuts the door with a kick.

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

He stands tall with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. His eyes quickly look down at your bare thighs. You feel small under his stare.

“I just took the wrong turn,” you state and he scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just took the wrong turn, my ass.”

“Listen-”

“No! No, you know what?!”

Steve lets out a deep sigh before continuing,“I don’t care if it was just some wrong turn you cost us this fucking mission! Now we have to regroup and make sure we have a competent team next time, not including you.”

You stare at him wide eyed.

“Uh, no you’re not benching me,” you start but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head at you.

“Well I am. Because I’m allowed to, that’s what a Captain does right? Based on your actions honey, I think you deserve a time out.” he says.

The nickname falters you for a moment, stopping any words that were about to come out of your mouth. Steve notices, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbles, stalking over to you and leaning closer to your face. You wonder if he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks.

“Was this a little ploy to get back in my bedroom? Hmm?”

His eyes bore into you, as though he was trying to read your mind. Your eyes lock onto his and you try to keep a straight face as his gaze drops to your lips.

“Tell me, honey.”

You say nothing and a slight smirk etches it way onto Steve’s face.

“Really? Quiet treatment? I’ll talk for you then. I think you fucked up the mission just to be here...with me...right now. Was my dick really that tempting? Such a desperate girl. Selfish, too really. Don’t give a fuck about anything because you got cockdrunk after one fuck. What a-”

You strike a quick slap across Steve’s face before he could finish and his head barely moves. He chuckles and you grip your hand that’s stinging slightly.

“Is that all you got? That’s your slap?”

Steve moves away from you to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter. You did slap him as hard as you could.

“It really is. You can’t fucking slap. Try it again,” he demands while still sporting his teasing smile.

You lay your hand on his cheek lightly before pulling away and slapping him as hard as you could. It is definitely a little harsher than the last, but Steve still laughs.

“That was a little better, but still shit. You want me to show you how it’s done?”

Steve cups your face in both of his hands, his thumbs drumming against your cheekbones. You nod at him eagerly.

“Ah, ah, you know I want to hear you say it, honey,” Steve teases, then leans his lips down to your ear, “tell your Captain you want him to slap you.”

You feel yourself melt into his touch already and you take a very quick moment to thank the heavens for already how good it feels to be like this with Steve.

“Captain, I want you to slap me.”

Steve moves one of his hands down your body to grip your waist. The other one rubs your cheek affectionately one more time before he draws his hand back and strikes it across your face. You whimper and his hand is back on your face, soothing the burning skin.

“You see? That’s how you hit someone.”

His hand drifts down to lightly grasp your neck. You jut your bottom lip out at him and he smiles.

“You’re a brat,” he mumbles, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting it.

Your breaths are heavy and before you could respond, Steve’s pressing his lips to yours. He grips your hips with both of his hands, shoving you as close to his body as possible.

You rake your nails through his hair and he bites your lip again, making you moan.

Steve pulls away breathless, “look at you, already moaning? Seriously? Fuck, you’re going to be so noisy once I get my cock in here.”

He cups your core and moans when he feels your lace underwear.

“Look who’s moaning now,” you retort and Steve winds his hand into your hair, pulling harshly.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he spits out and carelessly lets go of you. Without hesitation, you get on his bed, lying on your back.

Steve rucks up the shirt you have on and tosses it over his head.

“I really didn’t think you could possibly seem more desperate, but look at this.”

Steve trails a finger down your bra strap, then above your tits.

“Got yourself all pretty looking for me. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were cockdrunk.”

“Steve,” you whine out, your hands fisting the sheets a smidge tighter, even though he’s barely touching you.

“Steeeve,” he mocks your whine as he moves down the bed to settle between your legs. Roughly, he pulls them apart, placing each of your thighs over his shoulders.

Steve presses a quick kiss to your inner thigh before his lips are right above your core. His fingers trail the waistband of your underwear, then down the middle. The action already had you trying to buck your hips.

“None of that. Or do you want me to keep making fun of you?”

“Just...just get on with it, please,” you beg him and Steve chuckles.

“Filthy girl, can’t wait, huh?”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, before you hear a tearing sound. You look down to see Steve had ripped your underwear completely off.

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t have to-”

“Aw is the little princess sad her panties were ripped,” he mocks, faking a frown. You let out a sigh and Steve pinches your thigh.

“Steve, you have to replace them.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. But it won’t matter in just a couple seconds will it? Cause my tongue will be on your cunt?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” you relent.

“That’s a good girl. Finally.”

He licks a stripe up your core, smiling devilishly at the squirm of your hips. His tongue laps at your cunt, not holding back from plunging you into pleasure.

Steve groans at how wet you are and the feeling of you soaking his mouth. He’s been thinking about stuffing his face into your pussy since he first fucked you and now that he’s doing it, he’s relentless.

He attempts to keep your hips from squirming at every lick, but eventually he gives up, just wanting to enjoy how much you like his tongue.

“This good, honey? Sure fucking looks like it is,” he growls, moving his fingers up to rub your clit in small circles as his tongue dives into your opening.

You feel like he’s trying to lick every inch of you. All your moans are strings of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and little whimpers as the sensitivity grows.

“Fuck, show me this is what you needed, princess. Cum on my face, come on.”

Your body stills as your orgasm rips through you, your toes curling as you scream out his name. You don’t miss how Steve’s moaning against your cunt as well, lapping up as much of your slick as he can.

Once your high has calmed down, Steve’s getting off the bed to rid himself of his clothes. He sits back against the headboard and practically pulls your body into his lap.

You take the opportunity to take your bra off yourself, not wanting him to rip that too.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping your jaw so you could only look right at him. As he looks into your eyes, he could tell you’re already a bit dazed.

“Are you listening?”

You nod and squirm in his lap, his hard cock presses into your thigh and with each passing second, you feel more hungry for it.

“I want you to ride my cock. Do all the fucking work.”

He releases his hold on your jaw and leans back. You look at him and Steve points his head to his dick. Holding the base, you guide yourself slowly down his length.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you take a few breaths, already feeling the pleasure building from how much he fills you.

“You gonna do anything, princess? Or is it too difficult for you? You're the girl who's cockdrunk so you better show me how true that really is.”

With his words spurring a sense of motivation within you, you steady your hands on his chest, his hands loosely resting on your thighs.

Slowly, you begin to grind down on him, whimpering at how deep he is in you. A deep groan leaves Steve’s mouth and it turns you even more. As you get into the groove of feeling his cock again, you start to bounce on him.

“My girl, fucking herself on my cock. How cute, huh?”

You moan out a ‘yes’ and he chuckles, his gaze stuck on his cock as it disappears into you. Your hips are already stuttering and it’s difficult to keep a steady pace.

“Think you could go faster than that? Poor baby couldn’t slap right and now she can’t even fuck herself right?”

“Please, Steve, just help me,” you whimper at him, clutching tightly enough at his shoulders, you’re sure you’ll leave marks.

“You sure? That means you’re giving up, honey. Admitting you can’t do this-”

“I know, fuck it. I need you to fuck me, Stevie,” plead and he’s quick to push the two of you down the bed a little so he can lay down more.

He plants his feet on the bed and holds your hips. You’ll probably both have marks from each other’s fingers.

Steve gives one experimental thrust up into you and it sends you reeling against him, dropping your head to his neck. He chuckles breathlessly before fucking his cock up into you.

“So much better, right?” He asks, kissing right under your ear.

Compared to your sporadic bounces on his dick, Steve’s pounding into you. He thrusts hard and fast and his frequent chuckling at the noises you’re making gets you closer and closer to the edge.

One whimper makes him still though and he pulls your head up to look at him.

“Look at this,” Steve coos, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear that left your eye.

“Why’re you crying, honey?”

For a moment, you think he’s genuinely concerned but the way he’s trying to hide his smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m sensitive,” you mumble and he hums.

“Your cunt’s sensitive?”

You nod at him and he begins to fuck you again, but his movements are slower, deeper.

“So what you’re telling me is...you came once from my tongue and your pussy’s already so sensitive that you’re crying? Think you could even handle cumming again?”

“Mhm, I could do it, Stevie, just so close.”

You knew you could, it’s just him that makes you extra riled up.

“Alright then, princess. You better fucking cum soon, then.”

Just as you were getting used to his slower thrusts, Steve picks up the pace again. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes it down to your cunt.

“Rub it,” he says, his lips pressing against your ear, then leaving a few sloppy kisses on your jaw. Your fingers work fast on your clit until you feel like you’re going to burst.

And you do, as Steve delivers one more thrust and you dissolve into pleasure, with him following and filling your cunt with his load. Steve pushes you off of him and laughs as he looks down at his bed.

“Made a mess, honey. You’re washing the sheets.”

He looks over to you, splayed out on his bed, breathless and still coming down from your orgasm. Steve moves back between your legs and you instinctively shut them from the oversensitivity.

“I’m just cleaning up,” he says.

Steve groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt and dips his head to lap it up into his mouth.

He moves back up to you and opens your mouth. You stick out your tongue and Steve spits his cum, mixed with yours as well, into your mouth. He closes your mouth for you and you swallow without him telling you to.

“There you go again, being a good girl.”

You watch as Steve picks up his clothes and puts them on.

“Am I really benched?”

You put on your best pout and Steve sighs.

“Yeah. Only stay out for one mission, then you can come back. That sound good, honey?”

You nod at him and he kisses you, his lips lingering against your own for a couple of moments before he’s pulling away.

“You wash the sheets or buy me new ones and I’ll buy you whatever pair of slutty panties you want.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fics #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction

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teklarn · 3 years ago

Text

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katuski bakugou x gn!reader

a/n : y’all this was gonna be for kirishima bc i love possessive kiri but like it works so well with bakugou. first part will be from third pov, following parts will be from second pov (reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3)

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: uhh idk a lil bit teeny-weeny dash of angst i guess

warnings: mild cursing, possessive bakugou, mutual pining, jealousy, aged-up to third year, possessive y/n, love triangle (square?), implied manga spoilers but not directly stated, tiny bitta tokage slander (sorry lol), slow burn romance (like SLOWWW SLOW BURN), lowkey enemies to lovers, like a lotta tension between bakugou and y/n

word count: 3k

UNEDITED w/ minimal or no typos. i shoved it into grammarly’s ass and prayed for the best okay

here’s pt 2 loves <3

- - -

y/n was used to picking and their skin, irritated at the girls fawning over bakugou. they were always on the sidelines, watching from afar, jealousy warping their heart. could these stupid girls not see that bakugou didn’t even care for their attention?

this time it was setsuna tokage who was begging for his eyes on her. y/n assumed it started in their first year when they’d been put against one another when the classes still had a clashing rivalry. (they still did, much more tame now, however.)

she leaned forwards, tugging on his short sleeve. bakugou’s uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder. he’d lost a lot of his angry demeanor from when he was younger, however it was easy to tell when he was pissed. it was inevitable he wasn’t going to lose his temper entirely.

it was easy to ignore the girls—most of the time, at least. what was ticking y/n off the most was the fact that bakugou didn’t seem pissed at all. his face was neutral, almost like the perfect mirror of todoroki on a daily basis. his eyes were not fired up in his usual ‘get the hell off of me’ manner. he was relaxed.

it didn’t seem like he reciprocated tokage’s feelings, however he wasn’t doing anything to get her off him and it was pissing y/n off to no end.

her sensuous lips were pushed into a slight pucker as she spoke, arching her back in a manner that made it appear much more provocative than she probably intended.

bakugou stood there, eyes flicking from her grasp on his sleeve and back up to her eyes. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, only kept looking her up and down. not in a romantic way, of course. right?

y/n scoffed at themselves. they swallowed the lump in their throat, shoving down the pinging envy in their chest with it. why wasn’t he reacting?

heat rushed to y/n’s cheeks. why do i care?

tokage was nearing his face. she didn’t have any intent to press her lips to his, which y/n was more than glad for.

y/n had come to the conclusion they had feelings for the explosive boy weeks ago. perhaps they always had, but now that they were fully conscious of them... gosh, it was frustrating.

“you’re staring again.”

y/n turned to see kirishima, the only other person who knew about their feelings for bakugou. he’d lost the twinkle in his eyes after first year. he’d picked up a dominating sneer and a withering glare reserved for anyone who desired to cross his friends. everyone at UA had after what went down. it was a shock most of them survived anything.

“so?” y/n snapped, shoving their hands away and kicking a pebble before them. kirishima and y/n continued their walk through the courtyard.

“so it makes you look creepy.”

“no, it doesn’t. he didn’t even notice me.”

kirishima snapped his fingers. “partially my point here. that’s bakugou katsuki, you really think he’s going to notice you?”

“excuse me?”

kirishima pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. “i didn’t mean it like that, y/n. it’s just...well, he has so much to work for.”

y/n raised a brow, questioning his nervous antics.

he continued. “bakugou works hard. probably the hardest worker in UA aside from midoriya. and it’s bakugou. he doesn’t really see a point in relationships. you know that.”

“it’s not like i’m looking for anything with him, though. gosh, kirishima, you’re acting like this is some school girl crush.”

he tilted his head, giving y/n a look that screamed, are you really sure it’s not though?

y/n huffed out a breath, crossing their arms. they’d already vomited up their feelings, why all of a sudden call it a crush? sure, it was a tiny crush that was no larger than the brain of a dinosaur.

“i can swear that it isn’t, kirishima. you’re looking too deep into things,” y/n defended once again.

the red-head held his hands up in surrender, sucking his lips in to avoid another snarky comment slipping out.

the two looked up at the towering building that had been home to them for the past three years: Heights Alliance.

during their second year, the teachers had settled with having the dorms set up in a way that allowed the students’ rooms to be set up in a gender-neutral fashion. they’d been able to select new dorms beside whomever they wished. rooming next to kirishima was a blast, but the only person bakugou wanted to room next to was him.

mina had moved in next to you, and kaminari to her right, and sero right across from y/n.

y/n had no issue being squished between a group notorious for their goofiness and ability to never take anything seriously, however (especially on weekends) they were exceptionally loud to the point they were sure China could hear the blaring music.

friday was finally going to be over in a few hours. y/n felt a giddiness well up inside them, anticipating the weekend. it’d been a rough few days, for everyone, not just them.

class 1A had been bombarded with assignments and pop quizzes. y/n was lucky they finished it all in class. some of the homework was finished when they’d sacrificed their precious free time to get it done, but in the end, it was worth it all.

y/n let their bag sag down their arms as they entered Heights Alliance.

bakugou had just been asked out on a date. for the third time. first time, he’d denied. second time, he had to shove tokage off him. third time, he’d calmly accepted her offer, and she’d skipped away with more than a smile.

she’d squeezed his bicep, gave him a wink and an unnecessary peck on the cheek that bakugou had wiped off the moment she turned her back. he was now in his bathroom and, despite her not wearing any lipstick, he was scrubbing his cheek raw so that the skin was a blotchy red.

the date was tonight, and he found himself wanting to go, and questioning why he accepted in the first place.

bakugou forgot about tokage the second he won that match his first year and tossed her in the cage. he only noticed her when she and her group of friends giggled and passed by. (it was mostly her chortling, but whatever.)

he continued rubbing his cheek aggressively with a scratchy towel. he was repulsed by how he had stood there without bothering to snap at her to leave him alone for the third time.

instead, bakugou’s mind had buffered, and if he was in a video game, he had surely glitched. he should probably just tell tokage he didn’t want to go anymore. in fact, he never wanted to go in the first place and wants to jump out his window and escape.

it was almost comedic. the thought of him going out on a date? goodness, he wanted to throw up.

as he continued scrubbing the cloth along his cheek, bakugou found himself more than grateful for how much his quirk made him sweat. if it wasn’t for the nitroglycerin-like substance he produced, his skin would be scratched and dried up.

a knock sounded at his door. silence came, until the knock found its way to his ears. a set of three knocks, then five, then it was a needy banging.

whoever was on the other side heard his audible groan and shuffling feet dragging across the floor, because they knocked a lot harder.

he swung the door open, hinges crying out.

bakugou’s upper lip curled in disgust. tokage twirled her hair around a finger, eyelashes sticking together with mascara. “katsuki,’ she greeted.

his eyes narrowed on her. “don’t call me that.”

“what should I be calling you, then? baby? or honey?”

oh yes, bakugou wanted to vomit. what even was her name again? whatever, it didn’t matter. “lizard teeth, listen. i-”

“lizard teeth? why would you address me like that?”

“because i don’t know your damn name, alright? i don’t-”

“tokage. need me to spell it out for you?”

“no. shut up. i need to-”

“you should remember it, because i was one of the few who got in through recommendations, remember?”

“and yet here you are in class 1B. can you shut the hell up now?”

“well, you’re just being shitty.”

“why are you here, tokage.” more of a demand than a question, as bakugou’s questions always came across if he ever bothered to ask them.

“because, for our date tonight, I need to pick up some things and I really hope you’re up for coming with me.”

“no.”

“please?”

“no. stop pushing. and I don’t want to-”

“come on, grouchy.” tokage activated her quirk, one scale slipping into his dorm and pushing him towards her. she gripped the collar of his shirt and grinned. “come with me for a short bit, and I’ll count that as our date, m’kay?”

bakugou opened his mouth once more to protest, but tokage silenced him by pressing one slender finger to his lips.

“I’m fully aware you don’t want to go on this date with me.”

he relaxed, shoulders slumping. if bakugou was younger, if he was even just a little bit more stubborn as he had been before, perhaps he’d be out of this mess already, or never in it in the first place.

tokage let her hand fall back to her side—both of them. the scale returned to her lower calf; the jet-black leggings she wore now had a perfect hole in them.

“do you think i’m dense, bakugou?”

“then why ask me out?” bakugou felt himself leaning back.

“because if i can get under the skin of that stupid little...what do you like to call them? stupid little extras? yeah, that stupid extra who can’t stop fluttering googly-eyes at you every minute, then i’ll be perfectly content.”

“who the hell are you talking about?”

“alright, so you are oblivious.” tokage took a step back and crossed her arms. “are you both unaware of how you’ve both been pining for each other’s attention? y/n, that classmate of yours.”

“...y/n?”

“do you know their name or do i have to describe in excruciating detail what they look like?”

“no, no i know who you’re talking about. but you’ve got to be shitting me, alright? there’s nothing there.”

“i’m from 1B, and if there’s something going on in 1A, monoma is going to tell us.”

“shithead, get out of my face.”

“you still have to go out with me.”

“why the f-”

“because, bakugou. if you don’t, i’ll be sure to make sure y/n knows about your feelings, whether they’re real or not.”

“why would they care? more importantly, why would you care?”

y/n kicked their feet up and down, a lollipop in their left hand, phone in their other. kirishima was in his bathroom while y/n was playing a game on their phone. they’d stashed away a bunch of candy back in their dorm and had snatched a handful for the two of them to share while hanging out in kirishima’s.

he was currently combing a hand through his hair, and then proceeded to rummage through his cabinets.

kirishima emerged with his lips puckered. “want to come to the drug mart with me?” he stuck a thumb to his door.

“what for?” y/n didn’t take a glance away from their phone.

“this.” he chuckled softly. when y/n looked up, kirishima had two fingers parting his hair. the roots were a jet black, just growing long enough to become the slightest bit visible.

“you’re going to fry your hair.” they were already shoving their phone away and tossing their sucker into the trash bin.

“it’s a monthly tradition to do this, y/n. it would be fried by now if i was bad at it,” he joked, tapping his roots once more.

y/n laughed alongside him as they exited the room.

it was late, and the lights made everything feel like it was set in a world of backrooms. when the rest of the world is sleeping, it is more than quiet, and nothing feels real―possibly in the best ways.

kirishima scratched at his chin, staring intensely at the hair-dye boxes lined neatly on the shelf before them.

y/n tapped their foot, not out of impatience, but because of the creep staring at them through the aisle. yes, through.

between the boxes of hair dye and scattered makeup products, the beady eyes of setsuna tokage could be seen. she smirked when she tugged her hostage closer.

bakugou’s height had shot up to around six feet in the past two years, so all that was visible was his chest and the black sweatshirt loosely hanging off it, however his grumbling and stream of colorful language was unmistakable. it was him.

“you okay?”

y/n’s head snapped to their friend. “what?”

“you seem on edge. is something wrong?”

“nothing. nothing is wrong.”

“you sure? if you need to talk, i’m here.”

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. don’t worry.”

“alright.” kirishima held up a box, wiggling it in one hand. “got it.” he gave y/n a toothy grin.

“good.” y/n snatched his arm up and dragged him along.

“woah,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle, tugging his arm back. “what’s got you in a hurry?”

“nothing,” y/n said, shrugging. “just wanna get home.”

gosh, kirishima knew them too well. his eyes squinted just a bit, and there was that playful grin lingering on his lips, just ghosting over his face, barely visible to anyone who didn’t know him. instead of pointing out the obvious, which was standing just a few aisles behind, kirishima decided to play around. “goodness, honey, the kids are going to be fine back home.”

heat raced to y/n’s face. “what?”

kirishima winked. “it’s nice that you care about them, but care about me a little, would’ya? i miss you, too,” he said a tad louder.

this caught bakugou’s attention. his eyes clashed with y/n’s, and he didn’t look away until y/n did. even a few seconds after, y/n still felt the blaring heat of his gaze upon them.

kirishima slung an arm around his friend, enjoying their flustered image. of course, he would never even think about pushing boundaries. the thought never crossed his mind, but he knew they’d let him know if they were uncomfortable.

when y/n looked back as kirishima led them away, bakugou’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were alight with jealousy.

of course, y/n didn’t notice the emotion flaring.

tokage smirked, clutching his loose sleeve.

y/n looked back to their friend, and kirishima flashed them another knowing smile. bakugou was getting antsy with his best friends’ hands all over y/n. well, not all over, but a tap on the shoulder was enough.

despite the way kirishima’s face dropped, y/n swiped his arm away and wandered over to tokage a bit more angrily than intended. they glanced up to bakugou, who was reaching up to retrieve something for tokage.

“what brings you guys here? didn’t expect to see you.” inside, y/n was screaming. gosh, their heart was angry.

“just running errands together.”

bakugou? going for errands? with tokage?

“cool, cool,” y/n said, nodding. “i was doing the same with kirishima.” they paused, awkward silence filling the space.

impatient as ever, bakugou tossed the item into tokage’s basket and clicked his tongue.

y/n didn’t know why. why were they being so stubborn? despite their protesting thoughts and their entire body screaming to hold back, y/n wrapped their fingers around bakugou’s wrist.

“actually, bakugou, i have something to ask you. i need your opinion on it. you’re smart, right?” y/n’s voice lifted at the end. although they couldn’t see the, what the hell are you doing face kirishima was making behind them as subtly as possible, they could definitely feel the glare burning into their back.

“tch, of course i’m smart, shithead.”

“good.”

“we’re actually kind of in a rush,” tokage spat out, snappier than usual.

“do you think i fight okay? i need someone with a perspective like yours to know if i do.”

“what kind of question is that, dumbass? i don’t care if you can fight well or not, just so long as i can beat the shit outta ya.”

tokage let out a low growl.

y/n smirked, hand still around bakugou’s wrist. “i’d like to know if i can beat you, then, so you can tell me if i’m good or not.”

ohgoshohgoshohgosh where was this coming from?

bakugou squinted. he leaned in closer, like he didn’t hear them. “speak up.”

y/n knew he heard them correctly, but he got awfully close.

feeling a little sneaky themselves, y/n ghosted their fingers over his strong jaw, tilting his head closer so they could speak clearly into his ear. “let’s train together,” y/n said, staring tokage dead in the eyes.

it was a stupid rivalry, really. they’d both been accepted through recommendations. they’d been friends all throughout middle school, and yet when y/n made it into 1A, tokage felt it a necessity to excel at everything and rub it in their face. no way was y/n letting them get away with this.

“i want to see how strong i am.” y/n let their voice drop just a bit. “you’re strong, right?”

“are you taunting me?” bakugou said, voice nearly a whisper. he still hadn’t moved from leaning down and hadn’t bothered to move y/n’s fingertips from his jaw.

“absolutely not.” y/n sent a small grin in the direction of their rival. “let’s just see who can beat who. we’ve never been against one another like this.”

tokage huffed, tugging bakugou back. his eyes were softened when they met y/n’s, and there was simmering, small grin on his face.

tokage, however, looked less intrigued. “he’s not your boyfriend.”

y/n shrugged, already backing away. they spread their arms in a mockery of surrender. “he’s not yours, either.”

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sweetchup · 3 years ago

Text

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 7

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 3,000+

Masterlist

————————

A loud creak fills the night air as you make your way through the empty halls. You feel yourself freeze for a second, holding your breath as you listen for any signs of movement. For any signs that someone else would be in the halls as well. Thankfully no one was actually there and, once you deem it is safe to continue, you round the corner to the staircase.

Tonight marks your third day staying here. Well, technically five days but you don’t count the two you were unconscious. Even though you had asked, as well as begged, Marine to take you to see Triton on that first day he wouldn’t allow it.

“My Lady, You must stay in bed! You are still injured!”

“Please, My Lady! Master Triton is fine.”

“Lord Poseidon would behead me if he saw you up already!”

Which has led you to this. Sneaking out at the bleak of midnight to make your way to Triton’s Manor. Thankfully, yet also not, Poseidon doesn’t station knights in the Manors so you could easily make your way through the halls.

Sorry about this Marine…

You felt bad about tricking Marine like this—You could already imagine the heart attack the poor fish would get once it realized you had disappeared—But you couldn’t stay in that room for one more moment. All day, every day, for the past three days it was all about Poseidon’s and your’s picture perfect fairy tale love story.

Apparently, all of the servants, and you meant all, believed that you had stolen their dear lord’s heart and to protect you from the wicked Amphitrite he allowed you to take care of his son. So when Marissa—who was apparently Triton’s aunt on Amphrite’s side—tried to attack you, Poseidon was so worried about your safety that he made you stay in his kingdom instead. They said it was the love story of the millennium…

Honestly, they couldn’t have gotten more off from what really happened.

“Finally…” You gasp out as you see the exit in sight. Traveling across the vacant grand entrance, you stand in front of the cold stone door. It’s pure size and golden details makes you pause from grabbing onto its handle.

You can do this…

Taking a deep breath, you finally grasp the metal handle and give it a pull.

“It weighs so much…” You mumble to yourself as you put your whole body weight behind your next tug. No wonder Triton was so strong, these doors were no joke. If it weren’t for the fact you were underwater and it made things lighter, you, in no way, would be able to open this door.

If only that magical shield, or whatever it’s called, that was around the whole palace area wasn’t in place. That stupid thing that actually allowed gravity and no magic spells inside its area. You could have just swam out an open window instead of going through all this trouble.

But, what can you do... It’s not like you could actually boss Poseidon around. You were sure that you were on the last straw with that guy.

“Woah…” You gasp out as you peeked outside from the open door that was now wide enough to be able to slip outside.

Due to Atlantis—where Poseidon’s Castle was located—being on the ocean floor, the moon was able to shine down far enough. Leaving the place often dark with only lanterns or other god made items for light. Well, that’s based on what you saw from inside the manor.

Outside was a totally different story.

Angular fish, Jellyfish, Squids, Luminous Shrimps. All of them covered the night sea in a blurry of glowful colors in front of you. It looked like billions of stars in the night sky. Except for the fact they were actually closer to you.

“A Human…?” A squeaky voice calls out. Startled, you look around in confusion and it takes you a moment to realize that one of the Luminous Shrimp was calling out to you. As you raise your hand for it to latch onto your finger, making you let out a small giggle from its front antenna tickling at your skin, it gains the attention of the rest of the swarm of shrimp that were swimming nearby.

“A Human?”

“It really is.”

“Is she Lord Poseidon’s new bride?”

“What was her name again?”

“(Y/n)? Right?”

“(Y/n).” All the shrimp begin to chant as they swim over and tickle at your skin.

“H-hey!” You giggle out, twitching and wrinkling at the strange feeling. Your stomach beginning to hurt as the small giggles turn to full scale laughter. “That tickles..!”

The shrimp continue to tickle you for a couple of more moments—along with chanting words of praises for their ‘new lady’—before suddenly swimming off in a hurry.

“H-Hey where are you running off—“ Your voice pauses as your back suddenly hits something hard. “Wh—..”

As you spin your head around to take a look at what you had bumped into, you freeze on the spot. Oh what good luck you seem to have…

“P-Poseidon…”

At the call of his name, you see the said Sea God’s eyebrow twitch slightly under the light glow of the sea creatures. Ah. You forgot you weren’t supposed to address Gods so casually. Especially him.

“I-I mean, Good Evening Lord Poseidon…”

The cold look on the God’s face doesn’t change as he continues to stare daggers down at you but it at least seems less menacing now. Perhaps it was your internal survival instincts thanking you for avoiding death once again.

…

Ah, this is awkward.

“M-May I help you, Lord?” You ask Poseidon as he continues to stare at you. You were hoping for some sort of response or answer to make the atmosphere less awkward but all you got was a scoff in response. The only thing out of said exchange that didn’t make you angry was how he drifted his gaze away from you and onto the floating sea creatures instead. Just thankful to get his piercing gaze off of you.

What was this guy’s deal?

Not wanting to spend another moment with the rude fish god, you turn and walk away. As your feet tread the last couple of steps of the stone stairs and onto the path, you find yourself looking at the sea grass that stood just yonder of it.

This must have been the area that was originally meant to be used as that ginormous garden as, compared to the rest of the surrounding area, the sea grass stretched out for yards in front of you. Honestly, you guessed two whole soccer fields could squeeze inside the vast circular field in front of you.

Actually, as you stared at the sea grass that seemed to dance in the tide of the sea, you wondered if it was anything like normal grass.

“Ah!” You can’t help but let out as you place one bare foot onto the field. It was soft, extremely soft. You would even compare it to the feeling of silk with its smooth and chill-like feeling.

“Human…”

At the call you tilt your head upwards to come face to face with a giant jellyfish. When did that get there? Also, why did it come down in the first place? The rest of the jellyfish were drifting much higher up. About roof height even.

“Human…” The jellyfish calls again, this time stretching one of its tentacles out towards you. Its smooth purple like texture makes you entranced by it. Ah, was it asking you to shake its hand?

“H-Hello—“

Just as you stretch your hand out to clasp the jellyfish’s, a hand on your wrist stops you. Instantly, you freeze as you recognize the green glove that was attached. Oh god, what did you do this time?

“L-Lord Poseidon-n I wasn-n’t— Gah!”

Instantly your head flies upwards back to the jellyfish as you hear its screeching. Poseidon’s other hand was holding the jellyfish head in a death-like grip. Based on the veins popping out from his arm it was like he was trying to squeeze the jellyfish into mush.

“Lord Po—“ You are cut off as Poseidon’s chilling voice resounds out next to your ear.

“You weren’t trying to do what?” You feel yourself calming down slightly as you realize he wasn’t addressing you. Though it wasn’t by much as you were still pressed against the strong god as he berated the jellyfish in front of you, “Insolent creature. Know your place.”

“I-It was only trying to shake my hand!” You shout out as you turn your gaze up to the god. His chilling blue eyes almost making you want to back down if it wasn’t for the fact you knew you couldn’t. It wasn’t right of him to punish a poor creature that just wanted to greet you.

“Shake your hand?” Poseidon chillingly repeats, a small chuckle laced in at the end as if he finds the situation to be humorous. Slightly, the god tilts his head down. Just close enough to whisper in your ear, “Human. Open those pathetic eyes of yours and take a hard look at my hand.”

Although you were taken aback by Poseidon’s harsh words, you still turn your gaze to look at his hand. Oh. Although his hand was mostly covered by his glove, you could still see the searing red bumps and lashes that decorated across his fingertips.

“Not only that.” Poseidon whispers again, making you jump slightly, “This jellyfish is deadly poisonous for humans.”

“Lord Poseidon-n. I beg for your forgiveness. I only did this because Lady Am—“

“Shut up.” You wince and shut your eyes close as Poseidon encloses his grip on the jellyfish. Crushing its head in a grueling squish. Even though you saw Marissa decapitated less than a week ago, you still find yourself shaking out in fear. Unable to find it in you to open your eyes.

“Tch. Pathetic…”

At first you thought Poseidon was addressing the now deceased jellyfish but you soon find out he wasn’t. Letting out a small squeak, your eyes fly open instantly as Poseidon hauls you up into his arms. Though, you soon regret that decision as your gaze locks instantly onto the corpse of the jellyfish.

Shutting your eyes once again, you shakily lean against Poseidon as you attempt to dull the sickly feeling settling in your stomach. Not even bothering to question or ask where he could possibly be taking you.

It is only when you hear the loud squeak of a door being open that you open your eyes. Looking over Poseidon's shoulder as he ventures further into the building, you try to find out where you were. From what you could see, it definitely wasn’t your Manor as the halls were far too grand. With floor to ceiling grand windows, marble floors, and intricate works of art, it left you speechless.

It is only when your gaze locks with one of the many photos on the walls that you finally realize where you were.

“Are we in Triton’s Manor?”

Poseidon doesn’t give you a response but you pass by more photos and paintings of Triton, you knew your assumptions were correct.

But,…

Pressing a hand on Poseidon’s chest you lean backwards to stare at the god. His eyes continue to face forward, seeming to stare right through your torso that stood in front of him as he doesn’t even bother to gaze up at you, “Poseidon… Why are you helping me?”

Once again, Poseidon doesn’t respond, only giving you a small glance upwards as so to give a glare to show his distaste in how you did not address him properly. You swore this guy changed his mind so much it was giving you whiplash. He decides at one point to full on ignore you and the next to save you from impending danger.

“I thought you wanted me dead.”

This time Poseidon actually reacts as he pauses in his movement and his eyes turn to gaze up at you. Their cold glory makes you flinch at his emotionless gaze.

How did Triton come from this man…

“You wanted to kill me as you dragged me underwater with Triton, right?”

A long pause fills the air before Poseidon finally responds.

“I do.”

You feel the need to flinch under the harshness of his words but don’t. You knew you couldn’t. He wasn’t saying ‘I do’ because he wanted to kill you in the past. No. He would have said ‘I did’ if that was the case. Even as he saved you from the jellyfish. Even as he was currently holding you in his arms, Poseidon still wanted to kill you. He still had the desire to.

But…

Why are you still alive then?

“Stop thinking.” Poseidon coldly orders as his eyebrows twitch lightly in annoyance. As if he knew what you were thinking, he continued to answer. “You are alive because you need to be. When you aren’t worthy to me anymore, I’ll throw you away. It’s as simple as that.”

Poseidon continues to stare up at you, seeming to wait for any more peeps out of you before venturing on. He grunts a little as you fall back in his arms, your chin resting on his shoulder as you look around at the items that decorate the halls. The warmth leaking from your body through your nightwear makes him freeze slightly but he doesn’t say anything. Choosing for once not to voice his disgust outloud and instead looking at the items that decorate the halls as well.

Soft…

Poseidon’s fingers twitch slightly as he accidentally graces your warm skin that was hidden under the shirt of your nightwear.

Stupid…

His mind instantly ridiculed and pummeled down the disgusting thoughts that clogged his mind. Especially over the fact that he, of all gods, shouldn’t be intrigued over the softness and warmth of a human.

“Tch. We are here.” Poseidon grumbles out as he finally rounds the corner and opens the door to Triton’s room.

Yet, even though Poseidon thought it would all be over if he reaches Triton’s room and places you down, he comes face to face with another problem.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Poseidon snapped out. Even though you came all this way, and caused a lot of bothersome troubles in the process, you only leave his side for a second to check up on Triton before coming right back. Did you not care about his s—

Instantly, Poseidon stomps that thought out of his mind.

“Your wounds. You’ll need help patching them up.” You bluntly told the god. Even though you had flinched at his outburst seconds earlier, you still reach forward to grab his hand. Did you want him to kill you?

Poseidon retracts his hand and glares down at you.

“I do not need your help.”

“Bu—“

“Gods… have no need for armies. No need for betrayal. No need for support. Such are the gods. Ever since the beginning, we have been the perfect beings. I. Especially. Do. Not. Need. A. Human’s. Help.”

After Poseidon’s speech, there's a long pause. Out of the corner of his eye, Poseidon watches you walk away and believes you gave up. That is until he sees you drag a chair over near him, patting the seat in a gesture to get him to sit down that makes his nose wrinkle up in disgust.

“I—“

“It’s my fault.” You state, cutting Poseidon off as you stare back at him. Your sharp fiery gaze unwavering as they stare back into his cold emotionless ones. “You don’t need my help since you are perfect but… it’s my fault. So I owe you one. So give me your hand so we are even. If Gods have no need for support then they have no need for favors as well. Right—“

“Shut up.” Poseidon barks out coldly. Giving you a harsh glare before, surprisingly, sitting down in the chair. For a second, Poseidon feels his hand twitch as he sees the surprised look on your face, wanting to wipe that fowl look off your face but stops himself as you kneel down to examine his hand.

I’m getting too worked up from a stupid mortal, Poseidon thinks as he turns his gaze up to the ceiling as you pull off his glove. Seeming to begin to treat his wounds.

Stupid…

Poseidon feels himself grit his teeth as your hands softly graze up and down his. Examining it to see what must be done to treat the many wounds. He wonders if this was how you treat Triton’s woun— Stop. So carefully and—

“Stop.” Poseidon bellows as he pulls his hand away from your grasp. This was idiotic. What in the world was going on with him?

It’s just like the time when Triton was born.

Stop.

How warm he felt inside seeing—

STOP.

“Hey. I need to—“ As you grasp onto Poseidon’s hand once more, he instantly grabs the front of your shirt and throws you across the room. Thankfully you landed safely on Triton’s bed, only the wind knocked out of you but…

“M-Mom?”

My, I’ve never seen a look like that.

Poseidon feels his body freeze as his gaze comes in contact with Triton’s. The boy that was once peacefully sleeping now wide awake as he takes in the scene in front of him.

Hmmm… You sure secretly spoil a child you don’t care about.

“F-Father?” Poseidon feels his hand balls into fists as Triton calls that title towards him.

I know you won’t divorce me unless you want something to happen to your precious so—

The loud slamming of a door cuts Poseidon’s thoughts off and he finds himself out in the hallway.

Stupid…

All of this, everything, was stupid.

A perfect being. He was a perfect being. Gods have no need for armies. No need for betrayal. No need for support. Such are the gods. Ever since the beginning, we have been the perfect beings. We have no need for the herd... no need for scheming... and no need for support.

Such… are the gods.

Author Note: Oooo a lot happened this chapter. Especially a lot with Poseidon’s character. Feel free to discuss what you thought about this chapter and Poseidon’s inner monologue. I would love to hear about your opinion or answer any questions if you are confused on some parts.

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127 @fortuna-stella @icy-spicy

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #snv #record of ragnarok #bivalve

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lavishedinjimin · 4 years ago

Text

bts reaction -> you do something that upsets/angers them

woah! finally, a new reaction post??

(all gifs used are not mine!)

Namjoon:

Well, well, well, what could you have possibly said to create an argument with Namjoon. He, for one, doesn’t like arguments. He would instead talk to you and settle all the problems without raising his voice.

But if the argument does get too far, he’s making sure that he gets his point across, even if his words might sting.

Namjoon sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at you who was standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

“I did nothing wrong, Y/n,” he states with a deep yet calm tone, “You didn’t tell me that I had to run errands. How would I when I’m in the studio with the boys?”

He raises his brow when you stomp your feet on the wooden floor. Eyeing you up and down, his blood slowly rises when he feels like you’re acting insensitive.

“But you knew that we had no groceries left!”

Namjoon suppresses his anger like he always does, “Stop being selfish, Y/n. Tell me, who’s paying your bills?” he points his chin out.

“Hey, I pay half of our bills!”

“There you go. That just means you also shouldn’t be depending on me so much when I’m busy doing work, okay?”

(aln: this gif is so fucking hot istg i’m on my knees)

Seokjin:

You feel the other side of the bed dip, signaling that someone had come into bed with you. Peeking your eyes open just slightly, you feel your body relaxing as you finally saw Seokjin after a long, hard day.

“Hey, darling,” you whisper, scooting closer to him to hug his body. Seokjin murmurs something under his breath, but you didn’t quite grasped what it was.

Seokjin moves around, furrowing his eyebrows as a groan escapes his mouth. “Please…”

Ignoring the word, you instantly scatter his face with kisses, kissing his forehead and down to his plump lips.

“Not now, Y/n.”

“Why?” you pout, “lemme kiss you. I haven’t seen you all day.” You continue your mischief on him, placing open-mouthed kisses all over.

With eyes still closed, he pushes you away with both hands.

Shocked, you look at him in awe of what he just did.

“That’s so rude,” you scoff.

“I just want to sleep, Y/n. I’m tired and I don’t want to talk.”

Silence fills the room as you sullenly observe him pull the covers over his body. He rubs his face with his hands as he lets go of an exasperated sigh. “Get over it. I had a bad day, okay? I just want silence and a night of good sleep, that’s all I want right now.”

You know how Seokjin gets mad. His words are his weapon. You think that it’s much better leaving him alone than further pushing his buttons. Tomorrow will be another day.

Yoongi:

Yoongi doesn’t get angry that often. It’s quite impressive how he can calm himself down and avoid the anger. But it’s also alarming – because whenever he does get angry, he can become outright terrifying and a guilt-tripping madman.

“Is it because I don’t talk to you enough?” Yoongi alarms through the phone, the rage in his voice evident even though you can’t see his face. “Huh? Is it because I don’t give you enough attention?”

“It’s not like that! You have to understand that he’s just a friend!” You grip the phone tighter in your damp hand.

“I bet that guy treated you better, hm? I bet that’s the reason.” Yoongi’s voice was filled with bitter sarcasm as he speaks. The tone of his voice makes you clench your fist in annoyance. It was clear that he was manipulating you with his words, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

“You know what? Whatever, Y/n. You do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care. But get ready for when I get home, you’re gonna get some serious fucking punishment.”

There was a long, thick silence after his sentence. You can feel your heartbeat thump loudly in your chest, upset in both yourself and in Yoongi.

“It isn’t my intention to upset you,” you sigh, “you’re the one that I care about. Always.”

“Then show it to me.”

You gasped. Are your actions not enough for him to believe you?

Hoseok:

Hoseok can be immensely intimidating when angry. Those eyes that can show the sweetest candy smile, with a single wrong move, they can turn into the most devilish gaze someone has ever seen.

Even his members find him scary whenever he’s mad.

As you watch the band practice their choreography for their performance next week, you couldn’t keep your eyes on Hoseok. The way his body just moves smoothly without any imperfections at all, it was clear that he was made for dancing and performing on stage.

Park Jimin calls off for a break and the members rush to their respective corners to catch their breath. Hoseok walks to the other side of the practice room where he sits down. Until suddenly, Jimin comes to your direction with a sly smirk on his face.

“Did you like the choreo?” he says, voice sort of raspy and out of breath. You giggle, “Yes. It was fire.”

“Mhm…” he places his hands on the table in front of you and leans forward, making your eyes widen. What is he doing…?

His eyes were almost slitted, licking his lips. You can’t help but notice small droplets of sweat trickling down from his temples and to his jawline, and how the light reflex the dampness of his neck. “Were you watching me?”

“H-Huh?” You stutter, mouth agape. “Yeah. You’re so good, Jimin, as always,” you respond while tucking your hair behind your ear.

Jimin’s grin widens, satisfied with your answer. Before he can give a verbal reply, Hoseok was right behind him and he swiftly pushes Jimin aside. He gives him a ‘look’ paired with a shake of his head. He whispers something to Jimin as he walks away.

Hoseok lifts his chin whilst he looks down at you with those menacing dark brown eyes. “Are you enjoying your time here?”

“Well,” you gulp, “Yes.”

He looks away for a second, brushing his hair back. You can hear that he took a deep sigh. Placing his forearms on the table, he stares directly into your eyes. His irises burn deep into you as he takes a heavy breath, “You know how possessive I am of you, Y/n. Only—” he lifts his right hand and caresses your cheek, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, “only look at me.”

Jimin:

Jimin was clicking away on his laptop as he sits on the barstool, eyes glued on the screen for he didn’t even notice that you’ve walked up behind him. Slowly, you wrap your arms around his waist. His body jumps in utter shock.

“Babe,” he groans, “don’t do that again. Don’t surprise me like that.”

His tone was plain and sharp, bringing an attitude that signifies that he is annoyed.

Perhaps he needs more love and attention?

Inhaling his scent, you rest your cheek against his back. The sounds of the keys clicking were slowly becoming irritating, so you snatch his hands away to hold them in your grasp.

“Wha—Y/n!” he yells, but you unrightfully ignore him.

“C’mon, baby. Just rest for a while and come cuddle with me instead—”

“Cuddle?” he turns the stool around so he faces you. He scoffs, “You really want us to cuddle right now? When I’m in the middle of work?” he raises his voice at you, making you feel small. Trying your best not to be hurt by his razor-sharp timbre, you stand your ground. “Stop fucking annoying me and let me do my job, okay?”

“I’m just trying to—”

“—Just trying to help, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Please just, just leave me alone for a couple of minutes.”

But he will feel so fucking bad afterward, though. Jimin lets his emotions get the best of him and he used you to let it all out. You understand him, nonetheless. He is the type to bottle up his feelings. But deep down, you wish he would tell you everything that’s been bothering him, without having to keep them for himself.

Taehyung:

Taehyung rarely gets mad at you. But whenever he does, he’s quick to apologize and forget about the situation because he doesn’t want to cause a much bigger problem.

So, stealing his food from the fridge wouldn’t annoy him, right?

He was supposed to come home early for tonight, but he informed you that he’ll be a little bit late because of traffic.

Although your hunger couldn’t wait any longer.

Taking the box of food out of the fridge, you did not hesitate to gobble them all up to feed your rumbling stomach. You know for a fact that he’s going to empathize with you anyway.

As he comes home, though, you weren’t still finished and he stops his tracks when he sees that you were eating his meal.

“Y/n!” he gasps, “This one is yours!” he says, raising the takeout box he bought on the way home. “You said you wanted Chinese, didn’t you?”

Uh-oh…

You slowly stand up from the dining table, walking your way out of the area with his food still in your hands with a little cheeky grin.

Taehyung pouts as he whines out your name, “I hate it when you do this! I was craving for that!” He stomps his foot, “This is so upsetting, you know.”

You feel your heart clench at that, “I’m sorry…”

“Come here, you!” Taehyung all of a sudden, runs to catch you, signaling your fight or flight response. You shriek and dashed all around the dining room, trying to avoid Taehyung as much as possible. He had his arms sprawled across like an eagle, cackling.

Once you let him catch you, he hugs your body tightly in his grasp. “Hmm? You’re so naughty, babe. You know I can’t get mad at you for too long.” He grabs the food box away from you and sets it aside. He whispers, “But don’t do this again.”

Jungkook:

“I mean, look at her, Jungkook. Doesn’t her face irritate you?” you inquire at him, showing an Instagram picture of that one girl you despise. She had her whole butt on screen, tongue out, showing off her long acrylic nails.

Sitting on the couch beside you, Jungkook purses his lips and looks at the screen. “Hmm.” He says plainly.

“Goddamn, whenever I see her in real life my saliva turns sour, y’know? Ugh¸ I hate her so much.” You can feel your nerves rile up, throwing your feet on the coffee table in front of you.

Jungkook speaks, “What has she done to you?” he says in a monotone voice.

“Uh,” you turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow, “Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Just wondering.”

“Okay, fine,” You roll your eyes, “She has done nothing, all right? But—”

He laughs unexpectedly, making you crease your forehead both in frustration and perplexity.

Jungkook himself was never the type to create arguments or say what he feels out loud. He would most likely internalize his thoughts and opinions and waits for the perfect timing to affront.

But if there’s a moment where he a situation feels unfair, he’s not afraid to stand up for what he believes.

“You know that’s wrong, darling,” he sighs, scooting over to you. He swings his right arm around your shoulder and tugs your figure closer. “There’s no reason to hate someone without having a definitive reason. C’mon, just ignore her if she bothers you so much.”

You frown, “But…”

“But what? Baby, if you do this one more time, I’ll be very upset. More upset in you than I am right now.”

Immediately, you jerk your head to look at him. With puppy dog eyes, you apologize, “Sorry.”

#jungkook reaction #jimin reaction #taehyung reaction #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #yoongi reaction #seokjin oneshots #namjoon imagines #bts reactions smut #bts angry #bts

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westmoor · 3 years ago

Text

the hart

(«- the fox. «- the hare)

(3.6k, shifter!jaskier, geraskier. some angst, some anxiety, some whump and violence - and healing.)

Destiny had favoured him, or so he’d thought.

Jaskier had been a different creature then. For the creature he is now, the world has little mercy.

Whatever courage youth had given him, darting down secret alleys on daring quests in the streets of Oxenfurt, skittering past the guards of his childhood estate to chase whatever whims the night presented, it’s all gone now.

Driven out by the dying light of day, vacant darkness with its tendrils crawling closer, growing longer, lean and frail. Grasping until they find him, take and remake him, warping his body to this shape he doesn’t recognize. And at last, plunging his world into one of twisting nightmares, undulating breaths hot and heaving through the grass, and the shadowed beasts stalking, searching, as the last remnants of his fortitude slips away under his feet.

Silence, he thinks, is the only mercy spared for creatures like him.

Beyond the concert of the dawn chorus, the lyric of a nightingale at dusk, the mourning of wolves calling their distant brethren as the season grows colder, there’s another world of sound. Imperceptible to all but those that live in frequent danger, that hold their breath and press their bellies to the ground in fields and meadows, straining their ears for a sign to flee.

Sudden fluttering of wagtails and startled sparrows. Squirrels hoarsely chattering above. Watchful rabbits drumming in the thicket, ordering their children underground.

He tries to wield it, to wrap himself in it. If he stays in this voiceless creature long enough, breathes quietly enough, perhaps the savagery that trails the luscious scent of prey in his tracks will go on by, and forget about him altogether.

Perhaps if he is good enough, hides deep enough - perhaps he can forget, too. Forget about foxes and hares and men with infections in their hearts, about whichever sickness has taken hold in him.

Or perhaps his luck runs out, like it so often does for those whose lives are favoured more by chance than destiny. Then, well, that is just a different sort of silence.

But for Jaskier, when chance fails him and he finds himself outwitted and caught in the jaws of that ultimate mercy, silence doesn’t come.

Instead, what finds him is a threadbare cloak, a smouldering campfire, a red mare, and the steady hands of a witcher.

They make it back to the little clearing he had run from, Jaskier’s cloth-wound body bundled in Geralt’s arm like something precious.

As shock begins to lose its grip on his mind, peeling back the layer of numbness he’s been afforded, the pain comes seeping back. With every step and jostle, something rattles in his chest. His joints move, but they move wrong.

He doesn’t know if bones this brittle are made to heal, or if this is just a body built for breaking. The icy wet that trickles through his coat is almost a distraction.

It hurts so much. It should hurt more.

He doesn’t even have a voice to whimper in.

It’s not until he’s lowered gently to the ground that he realises where they are, recognizes the low-hanging branches and the saddlebags piled haphazardly where he’d last seen Geralt standing. Recognizes too the wave that now, his panic bled out into the musty leaves somewhere on the forest floor behind them, feels more like shame. Thought battles instinct in his frayed mind and he knows he cannot run, but he cannot stay, and -

And had he been an excess burden in Geralt’s life before, then now, surely -

For eyes as wide as his, meant to discern between friend and foe at a league, any feature this close might as well be cruel. The details of his face are unclear as Geralt leans over him.

But he does know movement. Feels the fingertip that strokes the divot in his forehead. Geralt speaks, but the tone is clearer than the words, and it isn’t harsh. While passing over dirtied fur, easing down his ears, the other hand moves into the space between them and makes a sign.

Just like that, Jaskier’s world grows small again.

Slowly, the phantoms crouching at his vision’s edge recede, forced back beyond the shadows of the trees, kept at bay by scant firelight. Mighty trunks stand sentinel, barring their return.

Gone is the endless sky and the swift death that soars there. Gone too are the open fields and the dangers that prowl them, pointed snouts pressed to the ground, wetting their tongues at the scent of his injury.

He only knows what moves within this temporary refuge - tonight in the forest, tomorrow in the field - and the rounded silhouettes of those that could, but would not harm him.

There is no grand reckoning. No speech or lofty monologue, no words to twist or tones to ring false. Geralt doesn’t beg for forgiveness, makes no excuses, but he talks - low and smooth, for as long as Jaskier is awake to hear it.

The words will have faded from memory by dawn, but their essence remains - the solemn promise made that night, heard by none but the tall pines, a red mare, and himself. The one wrapped around him like a cloak, applied in layers of soothing honeyed balm over claw marks and wounds before it is spoken into existence: That no new hurt will find him here.

It’s a tedious process, but Geralt is right: his body does heal. Though the first week or so is spent under a dim fog brought by his witcher’s hand, it requires a restraint he never knew he had to hold out until his flesh starts to knit together.

Once his bones grow strong enough not to snap under the pressure as they twist in their fastenings, he finds the gap between one form and the other, and wills it open.

The transformation, though not always voluntary, had always come easy. This does not. It feels like fitting an old key, like forcing a lock that’s threatening to rust shut, throwing his weight against it in the hopes that the bar gives before the hinge.

He takes his first breath in the ribcage of a man like one saved from drowning. It burns and strains, and he is dizzy with the sudden height - but relief floods him like a tidal pool, and drowns out every other sensation.

When he looks up, Geralt is there, holding his clothes and lute, the things he’d left behind when they became too much to carry.

That becomes a pattern.

I am healed, he tells himself, and tells himself until he believes it, once his shoulder bends and deep breaths come painlessly. He believes it when he sings the songs of great grey beasts and their mountain brothers, terrible monsters and greater heroes, piecing together their stories bit by bit.

I will be healed, he decides, and tries to forget the songs about moorhens’ clucking and black little paws through the dew. Putting those pieces together not because they fit, but because they must, and tries to lose the ones left over.

But more often than not, Geralt is there and he picks them up, one by one, and hands them back in all the right order.

“You weren’t a hare when we met,” Geralt states one evening, in a moment of relative quiet - as quiet as their evenings are, one tuning his lute and the other sharpening the hunting knife he’d just tried to give Jaskier a lesson in wielding.

As if conjured by the mention of its name, Jaskier’s heart sets to beating. Although many unsaid things had become topics of conversation lately, neither had tried putting words to that. He suppresses the nervous shudder that crawls along his neck.

“I’m not a hare now either,” he says, and though it’s phrased in jest, it’s a reminder more than anything else: That he is not prey, and he will not run.

Geralt dismisses it with a grunt, and Jaskier knows that wasn’t what he had meant. There was a question in that statement, one of the dozens he himself had pondered over years, though he’s not sure which one exactly. Luckily, they all have the same answer.

“I don’t know,” he says, and the pressure at the back of his throat and how the words in his head refuse to conform into sentences tells him whatever comes next will be a ramble. While he’s never had trouble speaking frankly, honesty is harder. !I don’t know when or why or… how. Not how it started, even. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t - or when I didn’t - whatever I am.”

He’s aware that he’s stopped playing. Looking at his hands still poised over the strings, he wills the stream to slow, and tries to find solid ground to stand on. Geralt, bless him, gives him time.

“I believe it changed, though,” he continues once the whirling pool in his stomach has settled, when he’s less at risk of going under. “When we were in Rinde - perhaps later? I felt as though I’d come apart. Like a music box shattered on the floor and put back together, looking just like it had before, but the melody not playing the same.”

“In Rinde,” Geralt repeats, frown deepening with something akin to guilt. “Do you think the djinn, or Yen…?”

Jaskier has thought about it. Still thinks about it, when it all comes seeping through a bedroom window, when the sweet beckoning of the wind outside becomes curses. When it raps at the glass and taunts him for hiding his face in borrowed blankets or warm skin of a stranger, laughing at his cowardice. He remembers going out of tune, dissonant thrumming at his core at the disturbance of foreign magic.

“Yes,” he says.

But he also remembers Geralt’s gaze falling on another, losing the weight of it and coming unmoored. A beautiful sorceress, soft arms wrapped around rough, hushed voices ringing in unison. Seasons shifting and roads turning under his feet as he followed that to which he had tethered his dreams and aspirations. He remembers the scent of smoke and hunt and howl, and laying claim to a home, to a heart that wasn’t offered.

“But I think it was me, too,” he finishes. “I think the djinn - or Yennefer - or something may have pulled my pegs loose, so to speak. But the shape I took, that was mine.”

He’s always found it curious - if sometimes unfortunate - how words not intended to be spoken aloud but come by their own volition often seem to manifest more strongly than those initially planned. How much harder they are to ignore.

Curious, too, how a thing once named becomes tangible and must, at least in concept, adhere to the rules and limitations of the real world. How it can be touched and held, put away and taken out, turned over until it stops hurting.

The nights grow long in the wilderness, and the passing of summer shortens the days. And while he is no longer driven to bolt from his skin in fits that feel like madness, the whispers of the dark still tinge the air he breathes with the sweetness of rock-rose and blackberry. There are nights when it becomes inevitable, when he knows before the sun has set that the carefully balanced scales of temptation and trepidation will tip, and he will spend the hours of darkness trapped within this animal that cannot sing.

But even then, there is respite.

An index finger easing the tension of his furred head, careful strokes to coax his ears from their rigid stance, from turning at any sound real or imagined. Palms coming settling over his temples, roughened fingertips on bare skin, providing solid walls against all that feels too vast to comprehend, and reducing his world to just what can be held between two hands.

If the drumming of rabbits is his signal of peril, the signal of peace becomes the rhythm of a slow and steady heart, beating faithfully in the chest just beneath his ear.

It’s there, in the secluded space between their bodies where he draws circles to match the caresses over the small of his back, that he finds the courage to unearth the fragments of what he once was, mismatched bones and unmoored thoughts and instincts all he has been unable to lose, and starts to mold them back together into something recognizable.

As the thing that has sprouted and grown lush from the ruins of what was between them matures and turns vibrant, so do the leaves.

Autumn brings abundance the likes of which he has barely known. Roadsides overflow with wildberries to rival the richest vineyards of Toussaint. Cider sweet as honey pours in every tavern in their way, pressed apples picked from branches hung so low to the ground they must've sighed with relief at the loss of their burden.

Yet no sun-warmed apple cider shines as golden, nor has any Toussaint wine rendered him as drunk as his lover’s eyes or lips on his. At his side, in his arms, Jaskier finds the hollow indentations of a former self still vacant, still waiting. And the corresponding edges, worn smooth like river rocks over time, fall into place with such ease he wonders how they ever came apart at all.

There, safe under Geralt’s gentle touch, the wild may call all it wants.

Another forest’s edge, another contract, another waning moon.

Jaskier stokes the fire, tending to the warding light, wondering idly whether flames ignited by a Witcher’s sign hold more power than those lit by mere mortals. He likes to think they do. If he leans into it, he can easily convince himself of Geralt’s grounding presence remaining long after his footsteps are lost in the undergrowth. Behind him, Roach grazes in a patch of clovers, her calm tempering even the most skittish of his natures.

It is still, stiller than it has been for a while. The slight gale that picked up at the setting sun has dwindled to a breeze. He thought about unpacking his lute near an hour ago, but wouldn’t risk disturbing the sanctity of the evening, its melody would feel too far out of place in the arrangement of grasshoppers and midnight warblers.

Even to his human senses, animals of bush and green play in concert - from the whip of a falcon’s wings to the complaints of adolescent woodgrouse reluctant to leave their natal clutch - unknowingly orchestrated, and all of them distant. None, no matter their place in nature's hierarchy, dare test their mettle against the ever-present sense of death and danger that shrouds the dwelling of a witcher.

They stir and fuss, some waking while others settle down to sleep, until they don’t.

Jaskier’s buried instincts know it before his waking mind does, the urgent shift in pace and tune, discordant notes of prey’s first warning.

He listens intently.

It must be large, or voracious, or both. Seldom does a simple beast inspire such disquiet, word of its advances sending ripples of caution to every ear that knows to harken.

Be quick, they say, or be quiet.

Though he can’t make out the movements of the thing itself, the tell-tale cries and rattles of other creatures point its path. A bird takes wing, then another, each one closer and all too close to their camp.

Roach stands frozen, nostrils flared. He thinks he can hear it now. Smell the stench of its breath if he tries, make out its shape in there amongst the trees, moving with far too much stealth for anything that size. Too large for a cat, too quiet for a bear.

It closes in, so near now that a crouch, a leap, might take it into their midst.

Jaskier holds his breath. There is nothing else to do. Not as a fox, or a hare, or a man. Nothing to do but wait.

Whether real or supplied by imagination, he hears it scuff at the ground, draw a deep lungful of scent down into its massive body. And then it moves - away, back into the woods.

For a moment, he welcomes the silence, rushing elation that fortune has yet to claim his debts. But realization doesn’t follow far behind.

No wild thing would come upon a witcher by accident. None could miss the scent of one, and none should come so close to it before changing their mind, unless...

The lone hunter, whatever its goals, has picked a fresher trail: Geralt’s.

It’s ill-advised. More so, it’s stupid. The knife feels foreign in his hand.

He’s not such a fool that he thinks he can fight it, or that the blade or his ability to wield it would make any difference at all. But he must do something, needs to try. If only he can warn Geralt, call out in time and let him know before the beast can pounce…

But it moves fast, and his eyes are slaves to the light, inadequate under the ceiling of leaves and branches. Soon, he hardly knows if he follows it at all.

Every fiber of his being wills against abandoning this last shred of defense, but he knows he has no choice, not if he is to make it.

The knife lands with a thump, the soft ground cushioning its fall. For the first time in a long time, by his own volition, Jaskier shuts his eyes and folds his frame in on itself, opening them to a world tall and vast and all too sharp.

Speed is on his side. This is a body made for running, and run it does. By whatever force his kind is blessed, by fate or chance or both, nothing stands in his way. Though moments wasted on doubt comes at a price, and though he covers ground thrice as fast, he can’t gain it all back.

His vision is wide. The white of Geralt’s head, back turned as he brings his weight down to end the last of the ghouls, lights it like a beacon.

And the ragged shape, hulking even where it’s coiled to spring, attention locked to Geralt’s undefended back with an intensity that swears violence. Canine eyes do not glow, but in that moment, in his world of ash and shadow, Jaskier swears the werewolf’s eyes shine red.

And a hare’s cry, no matter his haste, no matter how shrill, holds no power to them.

He sees everything at once.

Glints of teeth under snarling lips as it jumps. The flash of the witcher’s blade as it swings too high, going clear of the werewolf’s head.

Its jaws lock at his side, tearing through armour and sinew into muscle, grating against bone. Jaskier has never heard a sound like this. Not from man, or from beast. Not from Geralt. It's sheer anguish turned vocal.

Something in him breaks, then.

Like an old joint, once healed wrong and calcified, cracking open to swing freely. It hurts at first. The snap, burning white-hot and blinding. And then: Euphoria.

His body regresses to the confines of a man, and beyond. The change is too fast to feel, too fast to track.

A new form, new instincts bursting through before he knows how to tame them. Fear gives way to fury. By the time he knows he is moving, he has already moved.

It takes no thought at all to lower his head. To align his skull and spine. Leap from his spot.

The impact ought to hurt, but it doesn’t. There’s an audible crack as something breaks, but not from him. Neither is the inhuman yowl that follows, sound reverberating through the forest.

The smell of blood fills his lungs. He doesn’t balk at it.

His face runs warm, runs wet. Twisting to free himself of frantic limbs and mottled fur, he shakes his antlers to strike again. This time, he finds the wolf yielding, limping back just shy of his sharpened crown. When it flees, he thinks to follow, to make up for every night and every hour spent in terror, driven underground by lesser beasts than this.

But Geralt’s scream still echoes in him, the sound of it a weight he cannot bear, couldn’t move under had he tried.

In the moment it takes to hesitate, doubt rears its head. Face awash and prongs painted red with the blood of another living thing, he feels about as far from the self he has learned to accept as one can come. To anyone else, he must look monstrous.

But when he turns, Geralt isn’t looking at him with disgust. Not with scorn, either. Or pity, or any other thing Jaskier had thought he’d face if he spoke the truth of his nature all those years ago.

Geralt raises the arm at his uninjured side. Had Jaskier been smaller, and softer, he would’ve slipped under it, curled up in the hollow at his witcher’s throat and stayed there, felt his heart beat and his chest rise until morning came to see them hale.

Instead, Geralt steadies himself with a hand on his neck and draws close. Giving more of his balance Jaskier than perhaps he means to, but no more than Jaskier can hold, his breaths so deep they might as well be sobs.

There are words to be had. Answers to be found. Leagues to walk, and promises to keep.

Soon enough, winter winds will sweep down across the continent, summons ringing from empty halls in far northern mountains, and they will answer.

But for now, Jaskier is home.

For now, the witcher leans his forehead against that of his hart - or fox, or hare, or bard - knowing that neither will follow that path alone.

At the edge of the woods and throughout the field beyond, rabbits cease their drumming, and the first few songbirds wake to herald the dawn.

Sorry for showing up half-assed four months late?

Tag list: @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @elliestormfound @justjess94 @fontegagrilledcheese @dani-dandelino @honeysuckletook @underwaterattribute @ahhhhhhdonna @biitumen @cinary @saphiramalbec @lilbanili @sulkyshengshou @blooodymoon @dapandapod @kuripon @samstree

@tsukuyomi-selene and @herostag asked to be tagged for this one in particular, I think?

#post before i chicken out #the fox #the hare #the hart #geraskier #the witcher fanfic #shapeshifter!jaskier #geralt #jaskier

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mochegato · 3 years ago

Text

Calling Dibs

This day was going to be boring, Jason knew that before he agreed to the trip in the first place. ‘Agreed’ is a generous term. ‘Relented’ might be a better term. Regardless, he was in Paris for the next week. He was looking forward to the Louvre and seeing Notre Dame, but he was expected to spend time with his family for a large part of the trip and end with a branch opening party, because those are always so much fun.

He had barely plopped onto the hotel couch when something went flying past the building, crashing into the building down the street in a cacophony of shattered glass and warped metal. “Holy shit!” Jason yelled, jumping up and running to the window to assess the situation. The family looked to each other to see if anyone had a better grasp of the situation. Everyone shared the same confounded expression, before running out on the balcony to check out the situation.

Bruce sighed. This was most definitely not part of the plans. This was supposed to be a relaxing week with the family looking at art for Damian, going up in the Eiffel Tower (and preventing him from jumping off) for Duke, sampling French foods and checking out French fashion for Steph, exploring the catacombs for Tim, attending the ballet for Cass, visiting Notre Dame for Jason, and time together as a family for Dick, with just a side of meetings for him. Superheroing was not one of the scheduled activities.

Bruce opened his mouth to state a plan, but before the words made it past his lips, blurs of red and black swung past them toward the creature that had destroyed the building. It took more than a few minutes for him to finally close his mouth in a resolute line as they watched the two heroes fight. Jason’s mouth stayed open in awe as he watched the red figure expertly dodge and strike the creature. It stayed open until the creature backhanded the red hero into a wall of the building across the street.

The group flinched in sympathy at the sight, all too familiar with the feeling of getting smashed into a building. She fell to the ground in a crouch. Instead of fear, she looked back up with a glare. She jumped away and landed next to her partner in black and seemed to have a conversation before separating. The black hero distracted the creature while she swung further away. It almost seemed like she had run away until they saw her charge at the creature from the side, hitting circles that decorated its body, shattering them like mirrors as she went. With each hit the creature seemed to deflate more, until she hit the last one, a black butterfly emerging from it.

She captured it in her yoyo and released it almost instantly as a white butterfly. She called something out and threw her yoyo up into the air. As soon as she did, a pinkish red wave rushed across the city and suddenly all the damage they had watched with their own eyes, was reset to its previous condition.

They stared, mouths agape again, trying to take in everything they saw. Finally the silence was broken by Jason. “I call dibs!”

“What!” Dick exclaimed. “You can’t just call dibs on someone.”

“I just did,” Jason scoffed. “I call dibs on the red badass. You can have the cat one. Follow B’s footsteps, protégé.”

“You don’t even know if she’s straight. What if she’s into girls?” Stephanie objected. “Maybe they both are.”

Jason stared at her for a second before his eyes narrowed. “Fine. But if she’s anything other than a lesbian or ace, I have dibs. And the cat one is up for grabs.”

“Oh, I’ll grab,” Steph smirked.

“Fine, whatever,” Dick groused, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. “Wasn’t looking for romance this trip anyway.”

“Your libido is not the priority right now. Father, did you bring us here for this?” Damian demanded.

Bruce kept his eyes on the spot where the creature had been a few seconds earlier before turning into a distraught woman. “No, I had no idea. But now that we know, let’s investigate. We’ll find out as much as we can from outside sources and try to meet up with the heroes when we can. If they have a regular patrol, we can try to meet them somewhere. If they don’t, we might have to try to show up discretely at the next attack.” He observed the people below already returning to their normal jobs. “It doesn’t seem like this is too out of the ordinary for everyone, so I don’t think we’ll have to wait long.”

He wasn’t wrong. In fact, they only had to wait until the next night for another akuma to strike. As soon as the akuma was dealt with, they caught up with the Parisian heroes, though in hindsight, they perhaps should have announced their presence a bit more clearly, judging by the way Red Hood was hanging upside down off the side of the building they were on.

“Sorry again,” Ladybug grimaced as she helped pull him back onto the roof.

“No, we shouldn’t have snuck up on you,” Red Hood assured her. “I was just struck too speechless by you to give you a better warning.”

Ladybug blinked at him a few times before turning to the rest of the group and motioning toward Red Hood helplessly. Chat gave her an amused smile. “She tends to have that effect even on the best of us.”

“As Red Hood said, we should have announced our presence more plainly. We likely would have reacted the same if you had snuck up on one of us,” Batman said, taking a step forward.

“We just wouldn’t have looked as kick ass doing it,” Red Hood added, leaning toward Ladybug.

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at him, but allowed him to move closer to her. “Well, you certainly didn’t look ‘kick ass’ falling like that,” she smirked at him.

“I’ll work on how I look when falling, then. I have a feeling I’m going to be falling a lot for you.”

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him and puckered her lips in an unsuccessful effort to keep them from quirking up. Red Hood’s chest puffed up almost imperceptibly at the sight. Ladybug’s eyes darted over to Batman and back to him. “First, I don’t think you came all the way to Paris just to hit on me. I believe we have other things to talk about. Second, if you’re going to hit on someone, take off the helmet. It’s rude. I can’t read your expressions at all. It puts me at a disadvantage.”

Red Hood quirked his head to the side. “Can’t take the helmet off. Secret identity, you know? B would kill me. If he didn’t the squirt there,” he motioned toward Robin, “would try. But trust me, if you saw my face, you’d swoon. And I assure you, I would have come all the way to Paris if I’d known you were here waiting.”

“But we didn’t know you were here,” Batman cut in harshly. He placed a hand on Red Hood’s shoulder and pulled him back with the others. “We were unaware there was a supervillain in Paris. We’d like to offer assistance, ours and the Justice League’s, but first we should introduce ourselves. I’m Batman. That’s Spoiler, Black Bat, Signal, Robin, Red Robin, Nightwing,” he motioned to each of them in turn as he said their name. “And you’ve met Red Hood.”

Ladybug and Chat nodded to each of them as Batman said their names. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m Ladybug. This is my partner Chat Noir.”

“Sorry, we didn’t bring our full team. We would have if we’d known there was going to be a party,” Chat smiled disarmingly.

“We’ll be sure to let you know next time,” Spoiler grinned back at him.

“Can we sit down with you sometime to discuss the situation?” Red Robin interrupted whatever Chat was about to respond with. “It doesn’t have to be tonight, but we weren’t planning on staying in town too much longer. Not that we haven’t been enjoying our time here. And we’ve definitely enjoyed watching you work. You have got some really good moves.”

“Oi,” Jason interrupted, smacking him in the shoulder. “I called dibs.”

“Dibs?” Ladybug quirked her head to the side and scrunched up her nose in such an adorable way Jason let out an almost inaudible choke. Quiet enough that only Red Robin, letting out an almost as silent scoff, and Chat Noir, with his enhanced hearing, heard him. Chat zeroed in on him with a knowing smirk. He rested his arm on his baton and got into a comfortable position leaning against it, waiting for the entertainment. “What is ‘dibs’?” Ladybug continued, oblivious to the dynamic between the three.

Chat’s smirk grew. “Dibs, M’lady, is when you claim first rights to do something.”

Ladybug stared at him for a few seconds as she put together what he was implying. Her head whipped around to Red Hood. Her face was furrowed in an offended scowl. She pointed to herself. “Am I the thing you’re going to do first?”

Jason jerked back at the suggestion as Chat Noir and the rest of his family, sans Batman and Robin, started laughing. “No! No, no, no. No. Not… No.” He waved his arms desperately. “Not that. I…” He took a breath and glared at his family to get them to shut up, expecting them to know he was glaring harshly under his helmet. “I just get to be the first to try to impress you.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “You want to impress me? Do something impressive. And I don’t date as a superhero, so you’re going to have to impress civilian me. Good luck with that.”

Chat gave Red Hood a patronizing grin. “You’re going to need it,” he singsonged. He looked back and forth between Ladybug and Red Hood a few times, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He swung his baton over his shoulders and rested his arms over it. “But then again, she is the embodiment of luck so, maybe she just gave it to you.”

Ladybug’s head whipped back to him and she narrowed her eyes at him in warning. He smiled innocently back at her as if he hadn’t just been meddling in her love life… again. He needed to meddle in his own instead. Although, with the way Spoiler kept eying him, maybe it was already taken care of. “Anyway,” she said loudly, bringing the focus back to the topic at hand. “Tonight isn’t good. We both have early mornings tomorrow. But tomorrow night should work. How about meeting here tomorrow at 22h?”

“Okay, now that that is settled, I have a very important question,” Spoiler spoke up. Signal groaned next to her, preparing for whatever her question was going to be. “Where is the best place to get some French treats?” Batman let out a deep sigh. “What! I came to France to eat amazing French food and shop French fashion. They live here. They should know the good places to go.”

Chat straightened up immediately and sent Ladybug a feral grin. “You don’t say…”

“Chat,” Ladybug hissed warningly.

“They’re just asking for advice,” he answered in his most exaggeratedly innocent voice he could muster. “You wouldn’t want to deprive them of the best food in Paris. Would you, M’lady?” The devilish grin in his eyes was a complete contrast to the innocent voice. He turned back to the bats, the picture of politeness. “The absolute best place to get pastries in Paris is Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie on Rue Gotlib. It’s amazing. I recommend trying… everything. And it just so happens their daughter is one of the most amazing designers in… anywhere.”

Spoiler grinned at him. “A man after my own heart. Thanks, Kitty Cat. I’ll take that under advisement. And do you also frequent there?”

Chat blushed slightly and looked away quickly, but not before Ladybug saw the reaction and smirked at him. “Yes, he does,” she assured Spoiler. “He frequently frequents there.”

“And what about you?” Red Hood interjected, leaning toward Ladybug again, much to Batman’s chagrin.

“Are you kidding? She’s the reason I found it in the first place. I swear she’s there daily,” Chat grinned.

“Ooh, Kitty Cat, you sure know the way to a girl’s heart,” Spoiler purred at him. Chat’s cheeks burned red, but didn’t look away from her this time.

Ladybug pursed her lips in annoyance at his romantic interference but quickly smoothed out at the sight of his blush. A smile was back on her face when she turned back to the Bats, eyes lingering a bit longer on Red Hood before moving to Batman. “Anyway, we will see you again tomorrow. But Chat, maybe you should get an idea of what Spoiler likes so you can bring treats for her to the meeting tomorrow. I have to go though.” She waved at the bats before turning to Chat with a wink. “Have a good night.”

Red Hood stepped forward before she jumped away. “You don’t want to know what I like for tomorrow?” he asked huskily.

She looked up at him with a sultry smirk. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea of what you like. Sweet dreams.”

Red Hood watched her jump away. “Oh they will be,” he whispered to himself.

<><><><><>

Marinette had been apprehensive all morning. Every time the bell above the door rung, she braced for the bats. She let out a relieved breath as a man walked in by himself. She wasn’t positive, but she was pretty sure the group would come in together. She wasn’t sure why she knew that, but somehow she was confident of it. The man blinked a few times at her before smiling charmingly at her.

And damn if that smile couldn’t melt ice. She let out another breath, this one to calm her cheeks. She smiled at him, warmer than her regular customer service smile. “Can I help you, monsieur?”

“Do you, by any chance, have a bowl or something I can put some water in?” he asked awkwardly in barely accented French. The cocked head and curious look Marinette gave him prompted him to continue. “I wanted to… there’s this stray dog outside and he looks like he needs some water.”

American, she noted… with dimensions roughly matching Red Hood’s. And oh God, those muscles weren’t just the suit. Well fuck. Guess she did give him some luck after all. “Of course he’s fucking Adonis hot,” she muttered under her breath, but apparently not quietly enough. He smirked at her and chuckled.

Marinette’s eyes snapped up to him and she blushed furiously at having gotten caught. She took a deep breath and smiled back at him. “Blonde with a dark stripe down his back?” He nodded at her, a surprised look on his face. “That’s Éclair. He’s a local stray. An absolute sweetheart. Here, let me get the bowl I usually use for him.” She rushed to the back and came back with a filled dog bowl and some pancetta. “Can you give him this too, please? I usually do, but I’ve been stuck inside most of the morning.”

He gave her another ice meltingly brilliant smile and nodded in thanks.

She tensed at the next man who walked in, not really knowing why she was apprehensive. Red Hood was already there. She gave him her customer service smile even as her eyes darted out the window to watch Red Hood feeding Éclair. She could imagine the hearty laugh he let out when Éclair leaped up to lick his face. She smiled at the sight.

“Excuse me,” the man stepped into her line of sight.

She immediately turned to focus on him, regretfully tearing her eyes away from Red Hood and Éclair. “Yes, monsieur. Sorry about that. How can I help you?”

The man looked her up and down and leaned toward her. “I was looking for something sweet. Maybe you could help me.”

She cringed internally, but gave him a strained smile as she leaned away. “Of course, sir. We have a lot of sweet treats. Maybe you can look over the petit fours, éclairs, macarons, and tartlets. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“I have a question already,” the man gave her a leering smile. “Are any of the treats as sweet as you?”

She gave him a flat look and took a step back. She almost missed the door chime ringing. “I assure you, monsieur, you would find me far from sweet. Let me know when you’re ready to order.” She turned away and started wiping the counter instead.

Red Hood took the opportunity to step up to her and pass the bowl back to her. “Thank you. He looked very happy after the treats.”

Marinette blinked at him a few times and looked down at the bowl unmoving for a few seconds before the reason clicked for her. “Right,” she answered, louder than she meant to, as she took the bowl. “Can I get you anything?”

“What do you recommend?” he asked as he moved to block the other man’s line of sight to her.

She smiled appreciatively at him. Maybe he was impressive after all. “You looking for something sweet or savory? We have great bread, but if you’re looking for a treat, I would recommend an assortment of eclairs. It just seems apropos. Honestly, I think it’s all good, but I’m a bit biased.” She leaned in as if confiding a secret and winked at him.

He chuckled and nodded. “That is definitely something to consider.” He side eyed the other man in the store. “I’ll take a look around I think. Figure out what it is I want.”

Marinette nodded and gave him an understanding smile. She turned to the other man. “Have you decided, monsieur?”

The man made a show of looking around. “Are you on the menu? Because I definitely know what I’m interested in,” the man answered, leering at her again.

Marinette gave the man a flat look. It was not the first time she’d heard the line. She didn’t get it as much as waitresses, but still, it was a tired line… from a married man… that she had already turned down. “No, sir. I’m not on the menu,” she answered curtly, “because we are not a brothel, which are illegal in Paris, I might add. However, a quick internet search will direct you to the areas of the city where you can find that kind of menu items. If you would like one of the pastries, please let me know which ones you would like, otherwise, please leave.”

“I’m not good enough for you, but you’ll flirt with him,” he motioned toward civilian Red Hood.

“First, I get to choose who I’m interested in and that isn’t you. Second, he,” she motioned toward civilian Red Hood, “called dibs on flirting with me. Now either order or leave.”

The man huffed and left, trying to slam the door on the way out. The door closed with a gentle thud. Marinette rolled her eyes. “Sorry about that, monsieur. Are you ready to order?” She sent him an apologetic smile.

Jason stared at her for a few beats trying to figure out if her previous words meant anything. She could have just said that because the guy was an asshole. It could be a coincidence. And her partner could have sent him here purely because they had really good food. “Oh, um… what do you recommend I take?” he asked again absentmindedly, his mind still on how likely it was that it was all a coincidence.

Marinette smiled innocently at him. “Me out.”

Jason looked at her wide eyed. “What?”

“You asked what I recommended you take. I recommend you take me out,” she shrugged nonchalantly, but the grin was devilish.

Jason opened his mouth and closed it again. “Any other day, beautiful. Any other day I’d say yes, but I’m kind of working on someone else and I’m a one woman man.”

Marinette looked at him for a few seconds, a brilliant smile beaming at his response.

“Thanks for helping out, Sweetie,” her mom called coming from the back room. “I think we have it covered now. Oh,” she looked up at Jason, then at Marinette’s smile, and back to Jason. She smirked at the two. “I think you should be able to take off now, get to your real job.”

Marinette nodded and took her apron off, stowing it under the counter. “Thanks, Maman.” She leaned up and kissed her cheek before making her way around the counter. Jason turned to her as she walked out, watching her as she moved. She paused a few feet in front of him. “I have to admit, you impressed me after all.”

She smiled sweetly at him before moving to the door. She turned back at the last second, twirling to face him. “But you flirted much better with the helmet.” She winked at him and disappeared through the door.

Her mom chuckled before clearing her throat. “Anything I can help you with, dear?”

Jason turned to her blankly, still processing what Marinette had said, after a second he smiled and rushed to the door. “No, thank you ma’am. I have some dibs to collect on.”

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - design

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heymacy · 3 years ago

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@heymrspatel‘s tags on my recent gifset had me all moon-eyed and inspired, so i wrote a little something featuring a grumpy Mickey, a spooky movie night, and floofy hair. i don’t know how it happened either, but it did, so please enjoy about 1.2k words of Soft Husbands 🥺🥰🖤🎃

“i love you, jerkface” - dani dennison, hocus pocus

Mickey had been in a bad mood all day.

Ian suggested ice cream and a movie, and Mickey agreed, albeit reluctantly, grumbling something about bribery under his breath as he walked out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

He flopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote where it lay beside him, turning on the TV. It opened to the Amazon account they shared with the rest of the Gallaghers, their yearly subscription a gift from Tami last Christmas.

Someone, probably Debbie and Franny, had recently watched “Hocus Pocus” and Mickey snorted softly, remembering how much Mandy loved that movie when they were kids. She watched it almost every day for the whole month of October every year, sometimes randomly in July or December, and Mickey had the whole thing memorized by proxy.

“What d’you wanna watch?” he shouted towards the kitchen where Ian stood, spooning out two bowls of mint chocolate chip. He felt a little bit guilty using the fancy metal ice cream scooper, considering Mickey had snagged it from Debbie’s place a month ago in yet another round of their spiteful kitchen-utensil-abductions. All over a fucking potato masher. They really were a couple of children.

Ian shoved two spoons into each bowl and stuck the ice cream back in the fridge.

“I dunno,” he said as he walked into the living room, shrugging as he passed his husband, whose eyes remained fixed on the TV. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked, and Mickey groaned.

“Don’t do that shit.”

Ian handed him one of the bowls of ice cream.

“What ‘shit?’”

“You know what shit,” Mickey said, distorting his voice a bit in mockery. “Oh I dunno, whatever you wanna watch, baby.” He made a face, scrunching up his nose in feigned disgust.

Ian snorted.

“S’bullshit,” Mickey grumbled, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth as he settled in, pouty as hell. Ian knew that in about 20 minutes, he’d be back to normal. He just needed to get it out of his system.

“Alright, alright,” Ian said, fighting a grin. “How about Hocus Pocus? It’s already up there.” He gestured to the screen with his spoon and Mickey sniffed, shrugging.

“Fine,” he said, knowing that Ian was at least half aware of his history with the film, and avoided eye contact as he slid onto the floor, sitting with his back against the couch.

“Really?” Ian said, smirking, and Mickey just shrugged, swallowing his ice cream.

Ian’s smirk widened.

He slid across the couch to where Mickey sat and threw one of his legs on either side of his husband, capturing his shoulders between his thighs.

“The fuck’re you doin’?” Mickey protested through another mouthful, and Ian just settled in, pressing play on the remote. He listened as his husband mumbled some semblance of a protest before giving up, knowing Mickey didn’t totally hate it when they sat like this.

About thirty minutes into the movie, ice cream long gone, Ian started feeling fidgety.

Mickey chuckled quietly as Sarah reached up into the ceiling, pulling out her “lucky rat’s tail,” and Ian found his hands absentmindedly carding themselves into Mickey’s hair. There was a distinct but soft crunching sound as his fingers ran through Mickey’s hair, breaking through the gel-like product Mickey had used to style it that morning.

“Ow,” he protested, giving his head a little shake. Ian dropped his hands onto his legs.

“Sorry,” he said, refocusing on the movie. He felt Mickey’s hand on his own, moving it back to his head.

“I didn’t say stop,” he mumbled, and Ian was helpless not to grin, thankful that Mickey was turned away from him facing the TV.

He leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his thighs, the strands breaking apart quickly as his husband’s hair returned to its usual soft, fluffy form.

“Your hair is getting kinda long,” Ian mused, only half-thinking as they remained focused on the movie, Dani leaping out from behind the counter with a scream.

Mickey turned his head back around and glared at his husband.

“You gonna get on my ass about my hair, too?” Mickey snapped, irritated, referencing one of the could-go-wrong, did-go-wrongs from earlier in the day. What was supposed to be their attempt at helping Lip and Tami out with the new baby had turned into an impromptu roast session at Mickey’s expense, Lip making some smart-ass remark about Mickey going for the “boyband look” as Debbie egged him on, asking him when he was “going on tour”.

Mickey had just about heard enough and stormed out, already pissed off after dealing with a rude, cheap-ass supplier earlier that morning. Ian had followed, shooting annoyed looks at his siblings before he left, both of them riding home in the ambulance in silence.

Ian realized immediately how his comment probably came off, and he rushed to correct himself.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “I like your hair longer sometimes,” he mumbled, leaning forward and planting a kiss on the top of his husband’s head. Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes, all in show, realizing too late that Ian couldn’t actually see his face.

“Well I’m cutting it off tomorrow, so.” Mickey shrugged. “Won’t have to use that shit anymore,” he said, referring to what he had once called hair gunk.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do,” Ian said, and it was quiet for a minute while Max stole Winifred Sanderson’s spell book.

“Yeah, well,” Mickey said, shrugging, apparently choosing to remain vague and unelaborated.

Ian sighed and continued combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair, picking up the smaller pieces and lifting them, watching as they fell against the rest of the dark mess he’d created.

“You know I like your hair all the time,” Ian said, and Mickey was quiet. “Right?” he asked again, and Mickey just sat there, the very last bit of his resolve slipping away.

Ian slid his fingers into Mickey’s hair and grasped at the strands, yanking his head back so they were looking directly at each other.

“Right?” Ian said, and Mickey finally grinned, just a small curve of his lips that gave way to a lip-bite and a soft chuckle.

“Right, asshole,” he said, grinning, and Ian leaned down, Spiderman kissing his husband softly before leaning back up and pressing one more kiss to the tip of his nose, finally releasing his grip on his hair. Mickey giggled as he settled back in for the rest of the movie.

When the firefighters left the Sanderson house, Mickey climbed up from where he sat on the floor, crawling into the spot beside Ian. His husband welcomed him in with his arms spread, both of them settling in comfortably to their regular position, Mickey leaning against Ian’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, fingers laced together where their hands rested on Ian’s thigh.

A few minutes later, Mickey turned his face up towards Ian, who looked down at him with happy, tired eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his face apologetic, regretting wasting thirty minutes on the floor instead of in his husband’s arms.

Ian smiled.

“I love you, too, you grumpy bitch,” he teased, and Mickey snorted, grinning, tilting his face up for another kiss that Ian met with a smile.

#me? writing post-finale canon-compliant content? writing something that isn't an AU? i can't believe it either #i have no idea what this is but inspiration struck #also yes i'm working on TLO too so i'm in the grumpy mickey zone i'm SORRY #ficlet #things i wrote #one shot #under 2k #soft husbands

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