#like things stuck under nails or nails broken in half and shit it makes me lightheaded

[tepli-mravenci]

Managing my own time is so fun

Watch Hazbin Hotel > go to work > aquire workplace injury that almost makes me faint > rewatch Hazbin Hotel

[steddiealltheway]

Steve lays in his bed with thoughts of Eddie in the boathouse. For some reason, he wants to go to him. Hell, he knows he probably can't sleep, and they need him as well rested as they can so he can stay on alert through this whole hunt the freak thing.

Plus, a small part of him knows what it's like to be stuck with your thoughts late at night after dealing with the Upside Down shit. And it's not pleasant. Especially alone.

Another part of him knows that Dustin would never be okay if something happened to Eddie after they told him things would be fine.

But things will be fine. Especially if Steve goes to the boathouse and keeps watch for part of the night.

He throws on some more layers and grabs a protein bar for Eddie before driving that way, trying not to get too weirded out by the concept of him hanging out with Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

Hopefully this time he won't be threatened with that damn broken bottle.

He pulls up a little ways away from Reefer Rick's place and parks before grabbing his nail bat and creeping his way to the shed. He rounds the side toward the door and knocks lightly, whisper yelling, "Eddie! It's Steve! Open up!"

He waits a few moments before sighing and raising his voice. "I'm opening the door. Just don't kill me."

He slowly opens the door, glancing around the boathouse and finding it empty. He glances at the tarp over the boat and sighs, "Eddie, I know you're under there. It's just me."

The tarp shifts slightly, and Steve stares up at the ceiling in annoyance. "Okay, I get it. You don't trust me, and you have no reason to really. But we both know Dustin would kill me if I ever attempted to hurt you or turn you in. Plus, I know you're innocent, so I'm just going to stay here until you come out." He pauses before adding on, "I'll even hum so you know where I am."

He starts humming the first song that comes to mind which ends up being "Everybody Wants to Rule the World."

The tarp shifts and Steve watches as Eddie slowly reveals himself, bottle in hand, pointed at Steve. His eyes flicker to the bat in Steve's hand.

Steve stops humming. "It's for your safety," he says, lifting it up a little.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, and Steve gets the message before he drops the bat and raises his hands in surrender.

Eddie nods at him. "What's in your hand?"

Steve glances up and tosses the protein bar at Eddie. "Food," he says as Eddie curses, failing to catch the bar.

Steve takes a step closer but Eddie holds out the bottle to him and stands up. "Why are you here?"

"To make sure you're safe."

He looks unconvinced.

Steve shrugs and crosses his arms. "Okay, I know what it's like trying to process all this shit on your own, and it sucks, man. I didn't have anyone with me the first night after everything went down, and I didn't think I would make it through the night without that thing coming back."

"So what? You're here to help the freak with no ulterior motive, and I'm supposed to believe that?"

"You can tell me to leave, but I don't really want to spend the night alone either," Steve confesses, hoping that it will help Eddie trust him a bit.

Eddie only stares at him for a few moments before leaning out of the boat to pick up the bat before sitting down and picking up the protein bar. He unwraps it and bites off half of it before asking, "Tears for Fears, really?"

It takes a second for Steve to really understand what Eddie's asking before he smiles slightly. "That's what you're worried about?"

Eddie shrugs, taking around his mouthful, "I was just wondering if you really thought that's the type of music I'm into."

"It's the first song that came to mind. But no. I know you're into that metal stuff that Mike's been going on about." Steve takes a tentative step forward, watching the way Eddie's eyes follow the step.

He raises his eyebrows when Eddie glances up at him and shifts a bit before gesturing to the spot in front of him. Steve takes the invitation and sits in front of him, shifting a bit around the boat before grimacing.

"I bet you're missing your bed," Eddie comments as he finishes off the bar, dropping the wrapper in the boat before grabbing his broken bottle again. Luckily this time, he doesn't point it in Steve's direction.

"A bit," Steve confesses as he fails to get comfortable. He wishes he could take Eddie back to his home and maybe even give him the guest bedroom so he doesn't have to stay here.

Wait.

Steve glances up to where Eddie is tightly gripping the handle of his bat and the neck of the broken bottle and slowly reaches out his hand, asking for the bat. As Eddie hands it over reluctantly, Steve says, "Why don't you stay at my house for now? No one would guess you would be there."

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. "I'm not risking you getting caught with me."

"Well, it's too late for that." Steve says before circling back a bit to ask, "Why?"

Eddie shrugs and glances down at the bottle. "Because Dustin would kill me."

Steve sighs and lays the bat on the side of the boat. "You can hide in the back of my car on the drive there. It'll be easy to sneak you in."

"And your parents?"

"Gone for the foreseeable future. And even if they do come back, I can hide you in my closet or something."

Eddie shoots him a look. "Comfortable."

"Do you have a better idea?"

Eddie glances around the boathouse. "I don't mind staying here at the moment."

Steve's not sure why he wants to fight him on it so bad, but he gives in and says, "Just consider it after we've killed Vecna and we're going through the whole clearing your name process, okay?"

"Why?"

The question takes Steve off guard, but he easily deflects saying, "Because Dustin would kill me."

Eddie nods and looks off, getting that same far-off haunted look on his face. Before Steve can attempt to distract him Eddie snaps out of it asking, "And if someone comes here now, how will you explain why you're here?"

Steve glances around and looks at the windows and door. "Okay, maybe we should get under the tarp before that happens."

Eddie stares at him. "You want to get cozy with me in this boat?"

"I want to save both of our asses for now. If we hear something, we stay hidden, and if they come inside, we grab the bat and bottle and we attack." Get cozy with him?

Eddie sighs, "Can't wait," before shifting to sit next to Steve, placing his bottle carefully down toward the end of the boat before grabbing the tarp.

Steve shifts the bat, nails side at the end of the boat and shifts to lay back.

Eddie glances down at him and asks, "Ready?"

Steve nods as Eddie pulls the tarp over them and lays back. In the process, he ends up jostling Steve and shifting him to the side, almost getting his leg stabbed by the bat as Eddie curses about the bottle. They both shift to face each other, quickly noticing that they're around the same height with the way their feet are knocking into each other their breath is mingling together.

It is very weirdly intimate.

"Steve?" Eddie asks.

Steve hums in response.

"Maybe we should pull the tarp back until we hear something."

"Great plan," Steve says quickly, reaching up to pull the tarp back a bit.

There's a bit of moonlight shining through the windows which illuminates Eddie's face enough for Steve to be able to admire him. Steve blames the intimate position for his thoughts about how Eddie "The Freak" Munson is kind of beautiful.

Eddie's eyebrows furrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Steve quickly looks away and lies, "Just thinking."

"About?"

Steve takes a moment and readjusts a bit. "Just never thought I would be hanging out with you."

Eddie shifts as well, accidentally brushing his hand against where Steve's own hand lies between them. Eddie's hand shoots back to his chest. "if it makes you feel better, I wouldn't call this hanging out. We're just two people who are linked through some supernatural shit with parallel worlds and are trying to keep each other alive so Dustin doesn't kill us." He lets out a slow deep breath through his nose and glances away. "It doesn't have to mean anything. Trust me, I know you wouldn't be here unless you had to be."

Steve lets the feeling of regret run through him. "That's not what I meant."

"No?" Eddie challenges him.

"No," Steve confesses. "Dustin didn't ask me to come here, you know."

"So, you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart?" Eddie asks, tone dripping with disbelief.

"I didn't want you to be alone."

"Yeah, you said that before."

Steve's eyebrows furrow. "And?"

"And I'm sorry if I have trouble believing it."

Steve just blinks at him, unsure what to say other than his usual apology for being an asshole in high school.

Eddie beats him to it and sighs, "You're just... Steve Harrington. And I'm 'The Freak.'"

Steve can't help but snarkily reply, "I didn't realize that was your legal name."

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. "You know what I mean."

As much as he hates it, Steve does understand what he means. He looks him in the eye and says, "You know if I could go back and change how I was in high school, I would. Because, trust me, being 'King Steve' was not all that it was chalked up to be. And everyone I love still sees me that way. It's like they're waiting for that guy to come back or something because they're always in disbelief that I've changed or whatever. It's all just... bullshit." He sighs out the word, trying not to think too hard about understanding what Nancy meant when she called him it.

Eddie continues to stare at him, eyes wandering over his face as if he's trying to make his own assessment of him. Or as if he's waiting for the real Steve to pop out, the inevitable asshole. Instead, he just says, "You're different than I imagined."

"Is that a good thing?" Steve can't help but ask.

"Give me a business day or two, and I'll get back to you about it," Eddie says with a smile.

The response startles a laugh out of Steve which he quickly covers with his hand before he rests it in the space between them. "Maybe you're different, too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks.

"I thought you'd be way less willing to accept my presence here."

Eddie shrugs the shoulder he isn't laying on. "Well, being alone seemed to be slightly more appalling than spending time with you." He smiles and nudges him with his foot. "I'm joking. At least, now I'm joking."

Steve rolls his eyes and nudges Eddie with a little too much force, sending them both off balance and causing Steve to end up a bit sprawled out on top of Eddie who stares up at him with wide eyes.

For some reason, the new angle really does something for Steve who can only think of kissing Eddie. He leans back and takes a deep breath before an idea strikes him. He blames his tired, anxiety-ridden mind on the reason for voicing his thought, "You know, I can think of a better way to explain why I'm here if someone comes in."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, face carefully blank but a heavy swallow gives him away.

Steve shrugs. "Who is to question King Steve hooking up with some random girl in Reefer Rick's empty boathouse?"

"Christ," Eddie mumbles out, eyes flicking down to Steve's lips. "Are you suggesting we...?"

Steve looks down at him innocently. "I mean, if it comes down to it, I would be down to kiss you. Your hair is long enough to hide your face," he turns to the door and windows, "And from this angle, they would barely catch a glimpse of you."

Eddie swallows again and breathes out, "You're definitely not what I thought you'd be like."

"And is that-"

"A good thing?" Eddie finishes for him. "Yeah, I would say it is definitely a good thing."

Steve smiles down at him and is about to shift off of him when there's a sudden noise outside of the boathouse. He feels Eddie freeze beneath him.

"Steve... I know it was probably a joke, but either cover us with the tarp or kiss me," Eddie whispers quickly.

Steve reaches out for the tarp and pulls it over their heads, noticing the slight look of disappointment on Eddie's face before the tarp blocks out the light. His hands reach out, landing on Eddie's chest before trailing up to cup his jaw.

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers. Steve can feel his heart thudding in his chest impossibly faster at the sensation.

"Why not do both?" Steve whispers into the air between them.

He waits as Eddie's own hands come up to his shoulders, tracing their way into Steve's hair. "Both. Yeah. Both are good."

Steve's not sure who moves first, but their kiss is frenzied, filled with the anxiety of Hawkins crumbling around them along with the possibility of Eddie being caught, mixed with the fact that they're "The Hair" and "The Freak." And this is not supposed to be happening.

But Steve doesn't care. He deepens the kiss, groaning when Eddie tugs at his hair and pulls him closer. God, Steve can practically feel the kiss go through his full body, and he can't remember the last time a kiss made him feel like this.

The air around them under the tarp gets warmer as the kiss goes on, and Steve finds himself breaking away for air only to chase Eddie's lips again. It's all intoxicating. And the warm air makes it feel like he isn't getting enough air as Eddie practically sucks it out of him.

He breaks away and gasps, "God, I want to lift the tarp, but I can't risk anyone seeing you."

Eddie doesn't answer, he just pulls the tarp slightly off them before pulling Steve into another kiss. Steve can barely register the relief of the cool air hitting the back of his damp neck as he gets lost in Eddie.

"Can't see me remember?" Eddie says against Steve's lips.

"They can- mmm. See the rings," Steve manages to get out.

Eddie's hands slowly drift down Steve's back, resting on the dip of his spine that's still under the tarp. "Better?"

Steve pulls back and looks down at Eddie, his mouth pink and damp, cheeks flushed red, pupils blown wide. "God, you're beautiful," Steve says without thinking.

Eddie stares at him for a moment, face carefully blank before he glances at the window. "Do you think they're still here?"

Steve glances out the window and debates what to say next. He settles with the truth. "I'm pretty sure it was just a branch that hit the window."

Eddie nods and worries his bottom lip, not looking at Steve. He's still struggling to catch his breath, but Steve can't say much when he is equally as winded.

Steve pauses and says, "But maybe someone's out there. Or..." He shakes his head, trying not to finish the thought out loud.

"Or what?" Eddie asks.

"Or maybe I just want to kiss you again," Steve confesses.

Eddie looks up at him and pauses, eyes searching Steve's face for something. He glances toward the window and says, "I can't exactly be on high alert if you kiss me again, but..." he glances at Steve and finishes his thought, "I think it's worth the risk."

"If you really think about it, it's more risky if I stop kissing you."

Eddie tilts his head in confusion. "And why's that?"

"Because I'll only be able to think about kissing you again and won't be on high alert," Steve flirts easily. "And really, it's a great cover."

Eddie smiles and even momentarily laughs. "You're so full of shit," he says, but pulls Steve down to him, kissing him again with the same frenzied energy.

Only, Steve pulls away and winks at him. "We've got all night. We can take it slow."

"I think you're going to kill me."

Steve brushes a strand of hair out of his face. "And is that-"

"A good thing?" Eddie finishes for him again. "Yes," he answers, kissing Steve again but slowly, taking his time with him.

It's fair to say that Steve's original plan of keeping watch and letting Eddie sleep goes out the window, but he's pretty sure it's worth it.

It's definitely worth it.

[fandomobbsessedb]

Alastor x F!Overlord!Reader

AN: this is the result of the first poll I posted, Alastor won so here we are!

I’ve kinda broken this into two bits in this one shot, there’s a warning farther down if you want to keep within the ideas of “headcannon” but farther below I have the start of a story, I got a bit carried away and am too far gone to delete it.

⚠️Warnings: mentions of blood, death, weapons, smoking, maybe 1 instance of cannibalism ( but its more in the sense of revenge rather than a canabalistic reader) (idk man it’s hell if your triggered don’t read 😭) this is really long already so I might just break it up or continue it to make a part 2. I have a LOOOOOOT of references in here to so many things, if you guys can pick up on them leave a comment and I’ll tag list you in my next fic if you want! Or don’t I honestly couldn’t care less it’s just for fun :p

Reader is referred to with afab terms.

Pt2-

================================

• In your life you tried to stay on “the right” path. Your parents raised you right, you tried your hardest to be nice, and where always on your best behavior, but after getting the short end of the stick for too long you kinda… loose it.

• You ended up in hell after a night out partying with some of your most valued clients, when you went to drive yourself home the heel of your stiletto got stuck under the gas pedal, as you tried to pull it out you took your eyes off the road and 💥 BAM 💥 you where hit by a large grocer truck.

•Opening your eyes to a red wasteland, the bright flash of lights and the smell of brimstone flood your senses. Looking down to try and gather your bearings you notice your whole body wasn’t (skn/tn) anymore… it was marble grey?

“Where… where am I?” I mumbled under my breath, trying to gather my surroundings, a bright flashing catches my eyes, a gigantic neon sign in the sky gives me my anwser…

“Welcome to Hell!!!”

“Hell…. I’M DEAD?!!!!” I groaned out through barred teeth and stood to my feet, looking around I saw definite signs, this was Hell alright. A blood red sky, fires everywhere, little sinners running around stabbing and shooting one another.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, ALL MY WORK, MY SHOPPING EMPIRE, MY CLOSET, MY AWARDS, MY EVERYTHING, RAAAAAAHHH!!!” In my anger I grabbed the nearest sinner and threw them to the ground, putting my foot between their shoulder blades and grabbing their arms.

“You’re gonna tell me right now, what the hell is going on, WHY AM I DEAD AND HERE-” I shouted in their ear, seeing blood come out… oh shit I probably burst their ear drum… oh well, I’ve done that plenty of times to my assistants.

“D-d-do you mean, like in hell, or or just this area?” They questioned nervously. To be fair they were a scrawny little thing…

“What in the-“ I paused to look around, then referred back to this little shit “actually HELL are you talking about?”

“W-w-well, you must, *gulp* you must be new here, huh?” It asked with a weary smile and a weak little laugh, probably trying to ease the tension. “Well, down… down here, we uh, we have overlords who- who rule certain areas, we’re in Ms.Leefolt’s t-t-t-territory right now, I mean, our king Lucifer, Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar rule all of hell…”

“Well, that certainly is… intresting.” I smirk and stand up, releasing his arms but not letting my foot off his back. “So these, overlords… are they appointed by your king, or born into or something?” I question with a sharp red nail in between my teeth, thinking…

“No, no ma’am just, just anyone who’s ballsy enough to, to, take over enough territory and have enough demons- sell them their souls in exchange for something. Umm- if it’s not too much of a bother, could you let me go… I- I can feel my ribs crushing under me…” it started wheezing out and trying to get a hand under its chest to place a barrier between their chest and the ground.

“Hm, well if that’s all true, I can’t let some little thing like you going around gossiping about me.” I growled looking down at this freak… pressing my heel into his spine harder.

“No! No please, I won’t say a thing I promise!! Just let me go, please… pleas-“

SPLAT-

“Whoops, my bad, I slipped.” I reasoned, pulling my now bloody leg out of his torso.

“Ohh, eeeeeew eweweweweweweeew, I’ve got bits of his, ugh, lung on my heels.” Flicking away the bits of organ from my shoes, I take a breath and another look around but this time in a planning sense. Overlords huh, well, I’ll just have to see how much this ‘miss leefolt’ likes the taste of arsenic, I wonder when the last time she had a homemade pie was….

• So of course to establish some dominance in my new living arrangement, I gutted that bitch from the inside out. I took her territory, her power, her souls, even her manor. When I went to her office to kill her I found the deed to her house and all the contracts of sinners who gave her their souls in a pretty shittily hidden safe.

• I mean, I had to work so hard to build my life up just for a stupid grocer to end it all, so this is fine… right?

• The years go by and the world changes, you became one of the most powerful and influential overlords in hell, re-establishing your power once held on earth to a business in hell. Rosie and Velvet quickly becoming your closest friends, Velvet in a more business sense and Rosie being your go to gossip gal. Both of you having elegant and refined tastes. You and Husk became friends over talking shit in a casino one night, and remained friends after his downfall. He talks to you about this, radio demon, from time to time but you haven’t heard much of him

Little do you know he knows almost everything about you~

• Your walking around Cannibal Town one day waiting for Rosie to finish a meeting, watching children run around and little carts selling all kinds of body related snacks.

I lost a bit of my sense of surrounding and almost tripped on a kid running around with his friend throwing a head back and fourth.

"Jerermy! Stop playing with your lunch and apologize to that nice lady you almost ran into."

"Sorry miss, I didn't mean too." He said looking down at the head ashamedly, then offering me a piece of the cheek. "Would you like some of this face? It's really good." He looked up at me with an excited look. "Oh thank you, but I'm waiting for lunch with my friend, I'll go to the butcher and get some though, it looks really good." I smiled my pointy teeth at him, patted his head and motioned him back to his mother, she waved to me and I nodded my head back, thinking it was time for Rosie to be done by now.

"My my, with your reputation of anger issues I would assume you would tear that poor child into bits upon realization." A staticky voice spoke behind me, tilting my head back but not my body as I don't know who it is. I look him up and down, his outfit and cane/staff thingy give off quite the powerful impression. "My, mhm, reputation?" I pester raising my eyebrow.

"Ah-hahahaha, My name's Alastor, its quite a pleasure to finally meet you in person." He introduced reaching for the back of my hand to place a kiss. Him saying his name reminded me, I too finally recognized the name. "Oh, Rosie has told me much about you." The radio demon, his names been brought up many times around cannibal town since he frequented their shops and small town locals.

"Oh yes, Rosie is one of my dearest friends" He replied linking our elbows and started walking towards the shop. "Mine as well, she is quite the darling, so let me ask you now, where you just standing there when I got to the park, or where you going to follow me in silence since I left the emporium~" He didn't stutter in his step but my revelation made the air feel a bit more, weary on his side. Reaching into my hand purse I grabbed my lipstick and hand mirror and paused my walk to apply a touch more. Looking just past my lips in the reflection I saw his eyes in the back corner snap to my down, then back up to my eyes with a tight smile. "Well, are you coming? I know Rosie hates to be kept waiting." I snapped it shut and outreached my elbow waiting for him to link his so that we could start the traverse back to Rosie's.

• After our little group luncheon with Rosie, Alastor and you didn't verbally indicate that you were closer in any sense. But physically you swayed like two tree's. Brushing branches back and fourth with the breeze, restless and apart yet labeled as "together"

• You started doing weekly business deals, him acquiring land and souls for you, and all he asked in returns is he uses that land and those souls as he pleases. Which honestly isn't a lot. When he pulls people or their shadows to come help at the hotel- their mostly your people but he always sends them back to whence they came.

• He likes to pretend he doesn't necessarily care for being around you, however he's always looking for time you two can be together, or even thinking of each other. On his radio show he'll mention new shopping, eating, entertainment locations on your turf. He knows you listen when your able to. Sometimes he uses his power to let his station be the only one playing where ever you are. In the car, in a shopping store, you could be sitting in the bathroom and it would get to the point where you can hear it from the vents. Making you roll your eyes and finish your business so you could get to your office to listen to the radio.

• Truth be told... you where falling to his whims as well. Alastor didn't necessarily have "territory" but many places in one area he had influence in and quite often frequented. When you had rips or damage to your very expensive very delicacy clothing you would walk with him to the seamstress, and afterwards you would often get tea or lunch together. Maybe he knows a good diner or two and ya’ll will sit there and eat, then get a milkshake (mostly bc you wanted one, he just indulges to make you happy though he doesn’t care for the cold sweet taste) and drink it through two straws, awwwwwwwwwwwwe!!

• When either of you knew of prestigious events happening around you invite the other to be your plus one. You go shop together to find outfits for the occasion. You started attending overlord meetings together, with yourself sat on the opposite side of Rosie, sending each other glances and touches under the table whenever Rosie wasn't looking or walked away for a brief moment. At the events you stay close together and often stand away from the crowd, whispering and gossiping together, allowing yourself a to drink silly, little do you know how well he can hold his liquor and often will be the one making sure YOU get home. Sometimes you wake up still dressed, like the gentleman he is, and sometimes you’ll wake up in some red pajama set…. Like the gentleman he is, he’s not gonna let you sleep in an uncomfortable outfit. But he’s respectful about it.

• He often send subliminal messages through your radio to help you fall asleep, to push you to coming to see him, to maybe just stay in your town if he knew something really bad was going on outside. His favorite to do is when your falling asleep he’ll play the calmest songs from his time to comfort you as you drift off.

• When he officially asked to court you he compared you to the beautiful crimson of the sky, saying your cheeks where more bright and delightful to gaze at then the morning sky, when it was particularly bright. All kinds of poetic gestures, sending crows to your windows, sending your gifts of bodies with knives in them, and the knives had small notes left for you on some quote from a book you like. Now how he knows those are your favorite books are beyond you…. you don’t talk about your books much but, maybe he’s seen you reading it at some random point in time? Who knows, not you.

• He’s all in all not a bad partner, of course when you want to go out he usually goes along with what you want to do but if there’s something he refuses to do, his claws are sinking into your arms to keep you from dragging him to do it.

• His smile is genuine around you and you adore when he lets you pet his ears~ he’s not that intimate early on in the relationship but when your just sitting on a couch or watching the sun set from somewhere and you just reach over and pet his ears, he is putty in your hands, physically he keeps his compose fairly well but inside he’s willing to do anything to keep you touching his ears, telling himself he would sell YOU his soul if it meant you wouldn’t stop, petting his ears and helping him groom his antlers, don’t even get me started on the tail… oh wait he’s already got something going on with that… well darn… hopefully you will keep accepting his caring actions rather than push them away.

——-STOP reading here if you don’t want to get into the more “story line” of this idea, if you want more of a story KEEP READING——-

• One night some sinner had gotten into your liquor stash and drank himself ditzy, you chased him into an ally way, looking to end his fucking life. Most of those where gifts from clients that most likely had aphrodisiacs and at the time where trying to get down your pants, but he drank from one of the few special bottles Alastor had gifted you and you went ballistic. You ended up catching him and killing him, and taking a tip from Rosie and ripped some of his limbs off, letting yourself indulge in the taste of warm, liquor filled blood. When you came too you realized you didn't know where you had chased him. Now covered in blood, liquor, rain, mud and whatever mess you stepped in on your way over. Seeing the iluminating lights of the sign for the Hazbin Hotel, your only thought was to try and get to Alastor.

*knock knock knock*

*creeeeeeeeeeeeeeek*

"Oh! Oh my gosh, hi! Come in Come in. " An ecstatic girl ushered you inside, making a towel appear seemingly out of nowhere and helping you dry off. "I'm Charlie, whats your name?"

"Oh, how rude of me" I respond trying to shake off my chills, my nose starts to get a bit runny. "Uhm I'm Y/N, I don't mean to sound intrusive- uh is Alastor here?" I ask hesitantly, not wanting to just barge in but after the night I've had I wasn't in too much of a mood for pleasantries.

"Oh yes! Here, why don't you sit at the bar, have some tea or water or something and I'll run up to his radio tower." She sat me down at a bar stool and walked away. The bartender was turned around already whipping me up something.

"So he's got you wrapped up here huh?" I inquired with a smirk, resting my hands under my chin and trying to keep a little composure. His wings ruffled a little bit before he reached for my favorite hell made brand of brandy, my cotten candy brandy, I'm not one for sweets but I love the zing it gives you. The kind where you loose your vision for a good 7 seconds.

"You haven't usually been one to be a stranger, what gives?" Husk asked turning around handing me my drink and a bowl of pretzels.

"Well when I saw you weren't at your usual gambling tables I didn't think to question it, thought you where maybe getting more chips... ooooor hooking up in the chip room.... ooooor selling even MORE of your soul, if that's even possible, maybe like your wings or your feathers or, like your body as a human shield in the next extermination, never thought you'd be here slinging drinks." I shrugged swirling my drinks around the glass before taking a sip.

Before he could respond he took a bit of a step back and growled really low and deep in his throat.

"Ah yes well he owed me a favor and since I took an investment in this hotel I needed a little work on it done." Alastor came up behind me with a warm towel wrapping it around my shoulders as the one Charlie gave me was wrapped around my waist keeping my legs warm... unfortunatly the sinner got caught at a bad time, I was in the middle of 'me time' before bed and was in my good silk nighty. Glad I walked to my office with my fuzzy robe and ballet slippers. I feel really warm and fuzzy, my heads all….. comfy now… is that static coming from Alast-

"Oh deerest your all wet, would you like to come up and I can help you clean up." He asked you shaking the towel on your shoulders helping you sit up. "Oh yes please" you responded looking at him with sad tired eyes.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

I took a sip of the warm tea Alastor had made me and laid back in the bath, taking it all in. I WAS just planning a quiet evening in at home, maybe snack on some treats I got in the Gluttony ring, watch some hells soap operas. Now I’m here, in my beau’s bathroom, relaxing… maybe I can convince him to let me up to his radio tower to listen to his late night show live, oh that would be fun. I wonder what it looks like up there? I’ve only ever seen his actual town house… a little ways away from town-

*CRASH *

“What the fuck?!” I sat up so fast I almost slipped, sitting on my butt… in the tub…. Shit did he spike my tea?

“Alastor? Is everything okay?” I asked loudly. Standing up carefully keeping three points of contact with the tub and the floor. I reached for a different robe he had given me, a soft red fluffy one, with (what I hope is faux ) fur along the collar and wrists.

Walking towards the bathroom door very carefully I cautiously reached for the shiny silver handle. Telling myself it’s okay but feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, and the handle was the top of the pit…

“Alastor?” I called out again, once more not getting an answer, bringing my hands to my mouth when I heard a large thump out there, trying to keeping my composure… oh what the hell they know I’m here already. I went to turn the handle what the door got pushed in, had I been able to see what happened I would’ve seen Alastor in his demonic form and it probably would’ve scared the actual shit outta me… but NOPE

I went to open the door when it got pushed open and a bright blue flash covered all of my vision and made me feel… kinda tried… but I’m awake, almost like I’m not in my body… it’s… really hard……. To keep my….. keep my eyes …………………………….………open…….

• You collapsed to the floor slowly breathing, in a trance, feeling some sharper claws pick you up bridal style, if you weren’t so dazed out you would see Alastor frozen in time… like a paused TV… unable to get to you, or subdue your captor. You still had enough conscience to hear a muffled voice talking to a phone~

“Yeah we got her… foil chains worke—“

“Get her ba-“

“…. Longer you take the quicker……….. flasher wears-“

• Last thing you could remember hearing before completing falling out was a radio scramble in your brain, the sound going from a hollow scraggly to a tight scraggle- like turning the tv in between stations………

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

AN: WELLLLL WHAT DID YA THINK???? Did you skip to down here or did you read the WHOLE thing. I really hope ya’ll like this, I’m so excited to make part 2, and maybe 3 or 4 depending on how far this goes.

Thank you to anyone who reads this and interacts in any way shape or form!!! Even if it’s just reading :) HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY AND REMEMBER

REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM BUY GOLD BYYYYYYEEEEEE

[chaotic-iguana]

Sleep

Summary: Reader suffers from lack of sleep, caused by a recent event. As she continues to overwork herself, she reaches her breaking point with near disastrous results. Starring concerned!steve murphy, chaotic idiot!steve murphy and clueless!reader. javi has my fucking heart though.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no use of y/n though)

Rating: M

Wordcount: 2.2k 

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, sort of a panic attack, mild MILD allusions to someone being creepy (not javi though), mild flirting, humour, lots of swearing sorry

this is my first fic - let me know your thoughts! check me out on ao3

masterlist.

“I swear to fucking god Murphy, if you don’t stop bouncing your leg against the table, I’m slamming your head right into it” is the gospel that flows out of your mouth at 7 am on a Monday morning. Feels like it’s gonna be a great week.

“The hell did I do? You’d think Connie’s cookies would be enough to get you animals off my back, but no, first sign of any damn fire an’ the first person you’d throw in?” Steve huffs. “Murphy”, he repeats mockingly. You scoff and roll your eyes at him, clenching and unclenching your fists in an attempt to talk yourself down from strangling the idiot situated two feet to your left before turning back to the paperwork in front of you. The one-foot-tall, monster stack of paperwork. Right. In. Front. Of. You. And would the golden boys ever do it themselves? If they ever got a moment’s relief from jacking each other off during missions (or however the hell they manage to fumble practically every single little op), maybe. But most of the time, you were stuck with it. Because god forbid the two princesses you were partnered with ever had to so much as lift a pen themselves. Hell would freeze over.

And it isn’t like you mind. At all, really. Half your job is the paperwork, and you’re happy to get it in order - if only to avoid Noonan’s wrath. Besides, what good is an agent if they can’t do their fucking job? In its entirety; not the half-assed shit most of the men did around the embassy. But a single glimpse of yourself in the mirror while rushing to leave the house revealed that these past few weeks of skipping lunch breaks, going home late, and taking files home to work on have been catching up with you - sunken, bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, and bruises smudged under your eyes now, perpetually, since the nightmares had started. Anything to keep you busy, right?

Another aggravating side effect of the amount of work you had taken on apart from the usual? The constant irritation. Marlene’s new nails, Katie’s suspicious last lay, the stupid fucking demon alarm clock that never quite managed to wake you up, the busted tire, the broken coffee machine, Dave from accounting’s downright idiotic whistling, your pen running out of ink, and finally - Murphy’s bouncing knee banging the table every fucking millisecond, practically in tune with the pounding ache beginning to form between your brows. If you were a better person, you’d let these things go. Such is life, right? But since the lack of sleep, the increased workload and general mishappenings had already created this beautiful trifecta of shit just to screw you over, better people could go fuck themselves. As could Murphy. “Don’t use your wife’s cooking as an excuse. I’m telling you, make another sound and die.” you spit out, whirling in your chair because the incessant fucking banging still hasn’t stopped - just in time to catch Peña sauntering in, already smirking.

“Already nailing Murphy’s balls, cariño? Careful, I’ll fall in love, baby.” You can hear the laughter in his crooning voice as he throws it over his shoulder - but you don’t care - can’t care, beyond the spots that seem to be forming at the edges of your vision. Were your fingers always a bit tingly? Or is that a new development, like your tongue suddenly feeling thick and heavy in your mouth, like you’re choking on it? But even though your thoughts feel slow and weighed down by molasses, rage sparks brighter in your mind as Peña’s flirty nicknames and bullshit teasing registers. You push away from your desk, and shoot up from the chair, striding towards the door to get some air - or you try to - because before you know it, your vision is blinded by white and you’re breathing quick, shallow breaths as you lay on the ground trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Distantly, you can hear someone calling your name but it sounds so far away you barely even register it. Hands wrap around your wrist, your head, attempting to stabilize you, to ground you, as you flail wildly in a panic. A low hum begins to fill your senses, forming words that sound to fuzzy to understand or care about right now, but you lean into it, something in your being telling you it’s safe.

When your sight clears, you’re curled up on the on the floor trembling. Shaking, like a scared fucking child, while Peña kneels to hold you to his chest, repeating the same few phrases over and over: “You’re okay, it’s okay hermosa. You’re safe. Safe. No ones gonna hurt you, it’s over now, okay?” as Murphy stands next to him, watching with panic and a hint of sympathy in his gaze. You scramble away from them both, panting, nearly slipping in your effort to get to your feet. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, pretty. You’re okay” Peña repeats his assurances with his hands held out, palms facing you, as you stand on wobbling knees, wiping at your face.

“‘M fine” is all you whisper to them hoarsely before ducking your head and rushing out of the pathetically cramped room you three work in. You can hear footsteps behind you, but can’t find it in you to turn around - not even at the panicked sounds of your name being called by a familiar voice. You’re making a scene, you know it, but you don’t care. It’s all too much, and you’re too far gone. Reaching the parking lot, you struggle to unlock your car as your trembling fingers drop the keys twice. Swearing, you resolve and pick them up again, pressing them and reaching for the door. But just before your fingers find the handle another hand - much, much larger than yours - splays out on the window to stop you, just as Peña’s signature bedhead comes into view. He looks at you with wide, concerned eyes, his mouth tucked low at the corners, like he’s disappointed. You want to melt, you do, because the melting pot of emotions you have for him make you preen at his worry - but your usual defense mechanisms humble you. And so you sharpen your claws, flash your fangs, and the hackles raise again, leaving a “What, Peña?” to come tumbling out in a tone so sharp it makes you flinch. HIs frown just deepens as his gaze rakes over your form frantically, as if checking for injury. He says nothing, pursing his lips further before snatching your wrist and tugging you behind him as he stalks to his car, opening the side door. You raise a brow at him, and he counters by jerking his head towards the car, scowling slightly. You get in, slightly confused, and wait for him to walk around and get into the drivers seat. “What the fuck, Peña? I just fainted, I’m not senile. And I don’t give a shit how mad you are, you can’t just-just drag me to your car and f-force me to get in. The fuck are you playing at?” you begin to ramble, fury somehow still rising at a dizzying speed. Peña doesn’t respond, just starts driving while looking straight ahead while you continue fumbling over a panicked rant so pathetic it sounds nonsensical to your own ears. “…And what? You just enjoy calling me s-stupid nicknames? You think it’s cute to flirt with me while I’m- while I pass out?” This one makes his nostrils flare, eyes darkening a bit while his jaw tightens just for a second before letting go. You pause for a second, getting your breath while your hands still shake in your lap. “I’m fine, it’s fine. Can I just go home please? I’ve already done the month’s paperwork for all the ops we have planned, and you can just give me the rest post-op. I’m just a bit under the weather, I just need to lie down for a bit.” you start trying to reason, but the stubborn ass just keeps driving, and alarm starts bubbling in your chest again. You look down to your lap while you fiddle with your thumbs, willing to control the irrational fear yelling at you that something’s wrong every second Peña chooses to stay silent.

“Think I was flirting with you while you passed out? Y’think I don’t see it, you working yourself to the fucking bone? Think I can’t see how you’ve stopped eating, honey? Stopped laughing like you used to? Think I don’t know how late you’ve starting going home? As ‘f I’ll ever stop waitin’ for ya to clock out first so I know you’re home okay, baby. You gotta tell me what’s wrong - this is eatin’ you up.“

Peña’s tone softens, but his harsh whisper makes you turn your head to look at him. He sounds so…tortured, as if he’s the one suffering. He glances your way, locking eyes with you for a second before turning his head back to the road. You sit there and practically gape at him, your jaw slack as your head whirls. Peña knows? No, wait, he waits? For you to go home so you’re safe? He cares? What the fuck? Confused, all that comes out of your mouth is a mighty elegant open-mouthed “huh?” before you blink at him, waiting for him to continue.

“You gotta know by now, sweetheart. Gotta see how I’ve been lookin’ at you. You’re the smartest fuckin’ agent I’ve seen, with the balls to take down men I’d sweat to be ‘n the same room with. You swear like a sailor, an’ make me laugh till I’m chokin’ on my own damn cigarette. Tell me what’s hurtin’ you, honey. I can’t promise I’ll fix it, but I can swear to you I’ll damn well try my best.” He responds, turning to hold your gaze as his own eyes widen, and his brows turn down. Puppy eyes, you think. 

Your brain has gone from hazy to too fucking clear in a matter of five minutes, and now it feels like your thoughts are gonna come ripping out of your head. So you just blink at him, again, before reaching an unsteady hand out to cup his cheek. “I’m okay, I swear. Just-you remember that deal I had to cut last month? With the sicario? For intel on that lab?” Peña nods, and you continue. “Fucker led me to a dead end. Ambushed me. O-only got out ‘cause his gun jammed, and his child-soldier ran away. I just-this is so fucking dumb I’ve been in worse but- I can’t get it out of my head. The shit he said to me, the way he looked at me, t-touched me. I should be dead or worse, Peña. And I nearly was.“ you look down again, ashamed of the truth that’s spilling out of your mouth. It’s so small, so weak, you just want to fold into yourself and never come out. Your voice wobbles towards the end, tears filling your eyes as you turn your head away from the man you’ve wanted for so long to save whatever dignity you still have left. “‘N I can’t sleep anymore. Just see- or feel him every time. So thought I’d work for a bit. Clearly didn’t fucking work out, though.” small hiccups have started to punctuate your words, testament to the tears now flowing down your cheeks. Peña pulls up to an unfamiliar building and turns to you.

“‘S Javi, honey. Look at me, pretty baby.” He cradles your chin between his thumb and his forefinger to turn your head towards him. “None of that was stupid, okay? Come lie down at my place. I’ll sit in a damn chair next to you and fight him away if he comes in your dreams, sweetheart, okay? Nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Never letting any fuckers near you again.” Javi leans in to brush a kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the car and hooking his index and middle finger to beckon you too. You step out of the truck and towards him, smiling while swiping at your face. “Didn’t know this was what the girls meant every time they bragged about sleeping with you” you snark softly, with a teasing grin on your face as you reach him. Javi rolls his eyes playfully before unlocking the door.

“Ain’t gotta do no sleepin’ you don’t want to, honey. You’re here to get some rest. Be a good girl and sleep f’me, and I’ll keep you up for as long as you like after,” he  throws over his shoulder with a matching grin and a wink.

[yanderenightmare]

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon, profanity, abuse, anger issues, anxiety, arson, bullying, child neglect, child abuse, drugs, addiction, anorexia, guilt, pills, unprotected sex, stalking, trauma

TIP-JAR

PART ONE 

IN CASE OF FIRE: PUSH ALARM - PART TWO

IN THE TRAILER

She ran away from him in the hallway.

He’d warned her of what would happen if she did.

Knowing it was a matter of when as the next day he was left waiting, grazing the halls of where she’d left him with a kicked ball-sack on the dirty school-floors, all lovesick and frenzied with fire ants raging over his skin and a manic promise that one way or the other he’d get her. Lying in suspenseful spiteful wait to tell everyone what type of slut the little spitball in class 3c General Studies really was.

But, timing was everything, and as the day went by without him spotting her he realized the opportunity to ruin her reputation in school wasn’t going to rear its head.

She was home… 

Sick.

Or, that’s what she’d told the school. One quick question at the reception told him so.

She was home. 

Home in that run-down trailer-park sorry-excuse for a home she despised, the one she cried about so often, the one with neighbours who didn’t give two shits worth a damn about who she was or that her mother was a crackhead-whore in no position to take care of her. 

She was there instead of at school begging him to stop, begging for him to give her a second chance, begging him to kiss her, like she was supposed to do.

Standing outside her trailer, he wondered if whether her mom was home or not. He wondered if either one of her neighbours would care if they saw him break in, if it even was considered breaking in.

He spotted her mother slouched on a beach-chair beside some other trailer with a needle still stuck to her arm, ugly destroyed skin sizzling in the summer-heat, mouldy flip-flops sticking to her feet. 

He cringed at the sight of it, but knew then that his pursuit would go on unprovoked, which at the very least brought him some sense of relief.

She’d gotten in through scholarship as she in no form or way could afford a school like UA. That much was clear, unlike how unclear the crystal-meth shards decorating the plastic salon-table placed on the outside of their van was. 

She transferred half-way through the first year, all on the account of pure hard work.

He could respect that. 

He did respect that. Given she was quirkless and all. It was the reason she’d caught his eye.

It all went sideways when she rejected his invitation to Homecoming.

He’d already gone miles away out of his comfort-zone, out of his element, talked himself into asking her out, only for her to turn him down.

Him.

Best student in Hero-course 1A at the time.

Rejected.

He knew it was petty of him to bully her because of it, but… she didn’t only make a fool out of him, she broke his fucking heart.

He could have listened to Kiri, and tried to forget about her through some other extra, but... he wanted her. He’d decided. She was his. And a quirkless trailer-rat like her was in no position to just say no.

In some sick sense he believed she deserved better. Him being better. But, he would like for her to ask for his help, instead of him just giving it to her. He would like to see her grovel, beg, just a little bit, or a lot. He wanted to see her regret her decision. He wanted to see her sorry. He wanted to see her want him as much as he wanted her. And he wanted it to be her who initiated it.

But… he could see that wasn’t happening. He could see that his unorthodox methods of courting her through continuously trying to bend her until she broke only consisted of her rewinding or snapping back like a rubber-band.

She was distracted, too busy being broken by what life had given her, too busy with juggling different shifts, bills, schoolwork, to be thinking about him and how he pushed her around a bit at school.

He eyed the cracked paint of the faded trailer with much the look of a snob on his face. Fingers brushing over the door-handle, testing how much noise it would make if he were to pick the lock, coming to a complete loss. 

He could barely believe it… the door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside he was even more distraught to see there was no existing lock there to be locked in the first place. 

Meanwhile her mother was too busy slowly dying to better protect her daughter from depraved humans who could come and do just about anything they wanted with her.

Meaning… just look at him.

Soft snores brought him back to where he was once he closed the door behind him. Making the short way to the source of the groggy sounds, feeling his stomach flutter at the thought of how wrong it was of him to be there, sneaking about like some love-obsessed sick stalker, getting turned on by hearing his prey sleep.

What the fuck was wrong with him? 

And why didn’t he care enough to stop?

He stood at the foot of her bed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, head tilted to the side to view her sleeping frame.

Sleeping on top of the covers, not under.

He doubted it was because of the heat, the same way he doubted the mattress beneath was clean.

She was curled onto her side, knees bent and tucked up. Cute with that teddy-bear she used as a pillow, silly and stupid but cute because of it, especially in her uniform despite having left the tie and blazer off.

She was wearing her uniform.

Meaning... she’d either gone to bed with her clothes on and slept through the entire day, or she had planned on going to school this morning, but weaseled her way out like the weakly coward she was.

Well, in that case… what he was about to do would serve her right then...

Ought to teach her lesson.

He lifted his hand out of his pocket, producing a finger to poke her ankle softly, before stroking up a path alongside her socks, all four other digits joining in the stride before the fabric came to an end and his callous fingertips glided onto the doughy flesh of her leg, over the dome of her knee and onto her even softer thigh, coming to the edge of her skirt.

He always liked her in that skirt. 

That’s where his mind was at as he started lifting to see what underwear she was wearing, yet never getting that far as something sharp dug into each side of his wrist.

Her nails weren’t of course any close to lethal, yet managed to surprise him as she whipped around to meet him, digging the talons into his roughened skin.

She might not have prioritized figuring out who it was that was currently touching her in her bed, but she had assessed the situation enough to know that someone was in fact in her house and touching her, something of which is not a good omen when you live where she lived, nor in any other situation for that matter.

He tried subduing the splash of struggles that followed her awakening by climbing and crawling some further up on the bed in order to control what myriad of flailing limbs came at him. 

Soon, hands that had primly started clawing at him were safely locked in his much larger hands.

“Oi, relax! It’s just me!”

As if it being him would have any other effect than of rising her already racing heartbeats. Yet, even as her lungs heaved for as much air as her tight chest would allow her, he managed to capture her focus, her hands pinned to each side of her head whereas her feet were stopped amidst their kicking, crushed beneath the weight of the much stronger, much more encompassing mass and weight of Katsuki’s legs.

He hunched over her, back arching with his face a mere half-foot away from her own, the only thing supporting his upper-body being his arms, which were stretched out and grasping at her wrists, pushing them into her pillow.

Her eyes were large with craze-ridden fear as they locked with his recognizable carmine ones. 

“Bakugo?” 

Shocked and scared, with the creeping feeling of anticipation waving over her again, now all for different reasons then when she first understood there was an intruder in her caravan. 

Somehow, it being Bakugo gave her an even starker unsettling eerie feeling than if it had been a total stranger. Maybe because oblivion is bliss and knowing what is to come makes the inevitable that much more inescapable. 

Still, she demanded he tell her, even though she thought she might already know the answer. 

“What are you doing? Why are you here!?”

“You weren’t at school.” He stated, spoken as though it preforming as explanation enough, though serving as far from it to the girl beneath him, the confusion shown in the way she scrunched her brows together.

He noticed, contemplating whether or not he should make his reasons known, but deciding against it and for playing with her for just a little while longer.

“I thought, since you managed to wiggle your way out of your punishment at school, I’d bring the punishment to you.” 

He searched her features for any cracks in her composure, but though she looked beyond uncomfortable, she made no moves to push him off.

Her eyes squinted instead, narrowing at him. 

“I’m not scared of you, Bakugo. I know you’re not gonna hurt me.” 

Her body started twisting under him. The action far from vigorous, mainly meant to show her discomfort as she knew she wouldn’t go anywhere unless Katsuki decided she could.

And though the intention to her wiggling was not to evoke his arousal, it most certainly managed to do just that.

He inhaled sharply and she felt her body freeze up, seize at the feel of his hips making a shift to slot himself against her, grinding down onto her flattened and unmoving body.

“Hurt you?” 

He let out a low rumble of a laugh, like building thunder. 

“Who said anything about hurting you?”

Her breath strained as his eyes scrunched closed upon her jerking, his own teeth sinking into his bottom-lip to maintain the hiss on his tongue at the pull in his pants, his head descending to nuzzle against her chest, spiky hair poking at her chin. 

Mouth breathing hot breaths onto her ear, causing her to whimper.

“Thought you just said you weren't scared?”

She swallowed thickly, improperly giving his rhetorical question an answer, feeling her wrists go numb under his hold and her blood running cold.

“Bakugo…?” 

He didn’t answer and she felt herself go even more rigid at the absence of his voice.

It wasn’t often Katsuki didn’t speak back to her when she willingly spoke to him. In fact, it was never. But now, he was quiet, too quiet, making the frightening rugged sound of his heavy breathing overwhelm her ears, dulling her senses in the process before everything being sent into hyperdrive upon the feeling of his hand leaving her one wrist to cup her breast outside her shirt, giving the mound a careful and slow yet full squeeze.

She yelped at the sudden attack, her body jumping up against him, making yet another teasingly harsh contact with his clothed cock.

This time he hissed, both upon her delicious little struggles but also because her newly freed hand had actively made the decision to pull his hair as a desperate means of making him move.

It worked to some extent, at least in freeing her other hand which opened for the opportunity to drag herself out from beneath him. 

Yet, the action was stopped in a series of rather clumsy fighting, where Bakugo managed to retract the upper-hand once again, pinning both her wrists with one hand whilst tugging loose his tie with the other. 

He’d slotted himself between her legs now, her skirt spreading and hiking up her thighs as she struggled to stop him from tying her wrists together and fasting them to the handicap-bar mounted on the side of the bed, yet failing.

Her body free for him to touch now, to tamper and play with, and she felt her heart catch in her throat, small pleas coming erupting from the place because of it, but he didn’t seem to hear her, and if he did, he was electing to ignore the pitiful sounds.

His hands traveled down her sides, thumbs rubbing over the scratchy material, the fabric of her shirt stiff as a result of using dollar-store laundry detergent.

White shirt; made up of thin fabric to make the fight against the Tokyo-heat easier, yet resulting in it being so temptingly easy to make see-through with just a little spill of water. Water Katsuki was always so eager to pour, either with light teasing spritzes from his water-bottle or in carrying her over his shoulder into the showers and holding her there as the water rained down upon her, drenching both her and himself, then offering ever so mockingly if she would like to borrow a shirt, because unlike her he had a dorm-room with fresh and dry clothes, whereas she only had that one uniform and all other clothes made up of more holes than actual textile.

He chuckled at the memories as his fingers moved up-front and centre to tamper with the buttons.

“I bet you just hate this uniform, don’t yah?” His voice, although maintaining the snicker, was soft. Not loud and abrasive and rushed, but as though he was enjoying himself, thoroughly at that, drinking in the moment.

His movements too, were slow; careful.

Large warm hands stroking down the bare skin of her stomach, feeling the tremors as he did so, with eyes glued to those perfect mounds found beneath what looked like a well-worn sports-bra, making him wonder what she’d look like if he were to dress her up in expensive red lace. She’d be mouthwatering to look at either way, and breasts are just as soft whichever way they’re dressed… it’s not like the bra is staying on for too long anyway.

He swallowed thickly to stop his mouth from dripping.

He tucked her shirt out from her skirt, taking a moment to grip her midriff and squeeze to try and ease her struggling. 

It only resulted in her thrashing even more, whirlwinds of panicked get-off-me’s and fuck-you’s and stop’s spilling from her mouth in rapids, but the plead seemed to repel off Bakugo’s ears like water off a ducks back where the desperation only aided in satiating his sick sadism, in the same fashion tears fell from her eyes aided in making his stomach churn or flutter with something he could only describe as bliss, her arms trying to the best of their efforts at tugging at her bonds, to no avail except for making the skin found their chaffed and sore.

He spent a few seconds deciding whether he wanted the skirt on or off as he felt up the fabric between his fingers, more memories flushing his mind with such sweet and potent nostalgia of him lifting up the short excuse for coverage in the school-halls every day to sneak a peak at her underwear, or those times he would bend her over classroom-desks and push his bulge where it would fit so snuggly against her ass.

“Kinda feels like this skirt gets shorter and shorter for each year...” He mused, stroking up the skin of her thighs, lifting the fabric in the process, revealing a pair of black cotton boxers which, despite being lackluster, forced a groan to rumble from his chest.

The fuck-you’s had turned to please’s and the change made a smirk curl onto his lips as he put his lips to the inside of her thigh before pulling away to look down at her, all spread open and quivering for him. 

Breasts all perfect, squished together in the comfort of her bra, hair splayed on top of the pillow, her nose turning all red and adorable with her eyes brimming with both panic and tears.

Her skin felt so soft and untouched beneath his fingertips as he stroked up and down her thighs, pulling them towards him, as far as the bonds on her wrists would allow, slightly struggling with how much the panic had taken a hold of her, her legs kicking and flailing.

But he liked it that way. 

Messy and desperate.

“Don’t be difficult, Quirkless, you’re not getting out of this.” He spoke so calmly, so collected and controlled and determined. As though he wasn’t doing anything wrong, as though this was his right. “This is the only thing you’re any good for anyways.”

He leveled with her clothed little sex, slung her legs over his shoulders, watched as she squirmed upon his breath, heard her whimper and plead with his name as he stuck his tongue into the fabric, her legs doing a little involuntary kick while her thighs where firmly secured in his hands.

“Worthless quirkless little pussy on legs.”

She sobbed as his fingers latched around the ribbon of her underwear, pulling, tearing the fabric, with no need to pull it down her legs, just a need to pull them off.

A content and knowing smile made its way onto his lips, yet she was unable to see it in her position, something of which she was thankful for, or… as thankful as one can be when being defiled by a friend. 

Not that Bakugo was much of a friend anymore, but he had been, at some point before he'd offered more than one concerning opinion about quirkless people and their place in the world.

Of her place in the world.

He didn’t share her nostalgia though, not when the future was smiling at him with the face of her shaven warm pussy right in front of him.

“Did you get yourself all nice and ready for me? Huh? Knew I was coming?” He teased as she shook her head sporadically, unable to form any type of words in her overwhelming embarrassment and fear and panic.

He grinned smugly, despite knowing it was due to her spot on the swimming-team she kept herself clean and hairless, also knowing that the only reason she took swimming-lessons was because she and her mom couldn’t afford the hot-water bill, making her take showers at school instead, and that a spot on the swimming-team gave her a free-ticket to using those showers anytime she wanted.

How many times had he snuck in there to watch her soap up her body?

How many times had he palmed his erection to the sight of her?

How much he’d wanted to waltz in and take her against the cold tiles, make steam roll off the walls, hearing her voice echo his name... 

Now he had the real deal though, no more time for fantasies.

She was smart, she was resourceful, but not enough to put a lock on her door.

She was lucky if one thought about it.

Lucky it wasn’t just any random guy who walked in and took her like Bakugo was going to take her.

Lucky it wasn’t just anyone’s tongue jutting out to lick up her spread folds.

Lucky it was Bakugo who was hugging her thighs close to him, using them as soft warm pillows as he nuzzled between them to lick and suck and bite at the little bundle of nerves found right there in front of him.

Lucky it was Bakugo that had her squirming and quaking and whimpering and crying. 

Because, taking everything into consideration, she was safe with him.

Safer than she would or even could be with anyone else for that matter.

Who else could really protect her like he could, like he will, like he has?

She should be grateful he still wants her after she rejected him, humiliated him like she did. She was sure going to pay for it tonight. But first, he could at least treat her to what she had been missing, especially when thinking of how much he was going to take from her before the day let up.

It almost made him feel bad.

Almost, being the keyword, because without it he wouldn’t have thought it funny how many noises she could make without alerting anyone from outside, how no one cared whether she blubbered out common sniveling protests and screams of his name, begging him to stop, or those equally loud yet scarce moans that sprung from her despite her not wanting them to, each time he sucked too hard or too harshly on her clit, teeth rubbing over the sensitive skin found there. Her hips dancing a panicked series of shimming from side to side, controlled in his grasp and only aiding in his tongue finding new places to lick and suck at as he laid abusive worship onto the temple between them. Nose bumping and dipping and rubbing onto places too tender as his mouth moved lower.

Her knees jolting as he kept them spread open, claws digging into the grabbable flesh each time she would pound the ball of her heel into his back, the movement always falling still upon the building simmering threat of explosions in his palms, pain much sharper than that of his nails.

She wanting nothing more but to wrench away, especially upon feeling the shameful treacherous dripping of herself down onto the bedsheets, disgusted with her body, humiliated beyond repair, with the tongue of Katsuki lapping up what mess he had made out of her, teeth from a grin gracing in feather-light motions, yet still managing to shoot electricity up her core. 

All she could do was pant and sob through moans and trying her best to force out more protests even though she knew it was to no use, until she felt him pull away, leaving her cold in loss of contact with heat. 

She doubted his removal was because she’d begged it from him.

Her doubts being answered as she heard the crisp clatter of a belt-buckle opening.

Her eyes were swimming, gifting her with more panic as she wasn’t even able to see what he was doing, yet knowing, again wishing she didn’t, wishing she was rather deaf as well as blind, wishing all her senses to simply give away, all so that she didn’t have to witness what she was surely soon going to have to be the victim of.

She heard the clothes dropping to the floor, looked up at him through bleary blurry eyes, still recognising the sandy nuance of his skin fully on display before her. 

His large hands found her knees again, prying them open. His hips fitting between her thighs.  

“Ba- ba- Baku- go,  plea- please, don’t- don’t… stop.” She choked on her tears, on her fear, on her panic, on the feeling of the cold breeze making her exposed sex shiver and beg for something warm to fill it up, on her disgust.

“Don’t stop?” He snickered, pinching her clit between his fingers, making her arch with a whine before trying to wrench away, yet stopped by his hands steadying on her knees, spreading her open for him.

His cock-head delved between her folds, and he had to catch a pathetic whimper from escaping his throat, settling for biting his lip instead and ridiculing the reason as to why he was feeling so weak in the first place. Growling at the little girl beneath him, all tied up and defenceless and hopeless and pathetic, but still able to make him feel so small.

“I knew you were just a stupid slut.”

It helped hearing her scream for him. 

It helped hearing her choke on her own gasps as he filled her tight little space up with the warm length of his cock. 

It helped feeling her squeeze and seize around the girth of him, hugging him close and tight, filling and stretching her out so nicely.

She had resorted to hectic crying, no words, no protests, just sobbing, hiccupping, coughing up her own cries. 

And, although he imagined himself growling and groaning he fell short of those guttural rusty sounds and fell prey to whimpering like a lovesick puppy humping a plushie-toy instead. 

His hands holding onto her hips as though letting go meant death as he rolled his hips into her, feeling her warm velvety walls welcome him home.

It felt so good he nearly barreled over, his face buried in her chest, hand coming up to enclose over her mouth as so to stop the cries and hear those soft muffled moans she made instead.

Small stifled broken wet mews spurred into his palm, as he kissed a trail up the valley of her chest and onto her neck, whispering with his breath shaky.

“If it makes you feel any better… this is my first time too.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because he was suddenly regretting his decision of being a monster, or maybe because the fright of being vulnerable disappeared at the feeling of conquering what made him afraid.

“I spread a rumour in second that I fucked Ururaka just to see your reaction.” He let out a breathy laugh, the open smile on his face indicated his nostalgia, as though it were a fond memory. “But you didn’t care at all did you?”

He snapped his hips forward, hitting something painful making her scream beneath his hand, opening it to hear her sob out in whimpers.

“Did you?!” It was accusatory and loud and right next to her ears, as he bared his teeth.

She was sure she was bleeding, feeling as though he was tearing her up, splitting her open, every harsh thrust felt deep within her abdomen, churning her guts.

“I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor- sorry!” She spluttered out, more thick gulps of tears streaking her cheeks with red.

“You know what I think?” 

He leaned in closer, his nose poking into her cheek, lips brushing her ear, hands now having moved to cup her knees, pushing them up into the bedsheets beside her shoulders, hiking her up to meet his sharp thrusts. 

“I think you wanted this…”

She shook her head as his grin gleamed from seeing her discomfort.

“Leaving your door unlocked like that, you were begging for this to happen.” He laughed, biting her earlobe, heavy balls clapping against her ass.

She sniveled. “You- you know we can’t afford-” She started, but was cut off by her own broken moan as Bakugo yet again made another sharp movement, sending an earth-shattering smack to fill the crammed space of her RV, and then again cut off by Bakugo’s own response.

“Yeah? But you could still afford that dress you wore to Homecoming couldn’t you?” He sounded crazed, upset and angry and obsessed with making her regret it. “When you went with that fucking extra instead of me?” 

His forehead pushed against hers, eyes a feral red and large with rage, watching in sadistic glee as she scrunched her eyes together in pain, trying to block his voice out from her head. 

“Yeah, I bet you’re sorry now.” He growled, again taking a break from his series of shallow thrusts to push deep into her, making her whine in wet agony. “That was the worst mistake of your life and you’re gonna make it up to me tonight.”

He pushed himself up, looking down at the crying mess he was buried inside, licking his lips.

She couldn’t stop apologising, as he fucked into her, her hands going numb under the bondage of his tie around her wrists. 

“I’m sorr- sorry-” She croaked, face burning from her tears.

“Yeah? You better be.”

He gathered her ankles in his hands, holding them up, one hand coming to roll her sock down her leg.

“You’re gonna be.”

His hand caressed her small bare-foot tightly, thumb digging into her sole, his mind drifting to how cute and tiny it was, smaller than his hand, and strangely soft for someone who chooses to walk everywhere to save money.

“I’m sorry-” She blubbered. “I’m- I’m sorry...” 

She struggled for breath between her apologies and cries, forgetting how to inhale as Bakugo’s cock crammed into her, stripping her lungs of their air.

He kissed the pad of her foot, before leaning down again, hands once more cupping her knees and pushing them against the mattress.

“Good.”

She quaked beneath his stare, his sharp teeth too close as she cringed at the wet creamy sloshing sound of his cock pounding into her.

She had to look away, wanting to twist to hide her face in her pillow and cry until he was done.

But he wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me when I fuck you.”

Gathering her face between his fingers, he scrunched her lips together as his own face closed in, his teeth coming to bite down on the vulnerable pout.

“You’re nothing without me, you understand that?”

One of his hands seized around her throat, adding slight pressure to accommodate his words.

“Good for nothing.” He spit. “Except for being my little slut, right?”

His claws scratched her throat, making her mewl and suck at her bitten bruised lip, tasting the metal.

“Come on, slut, I asked you a fucking question!”

Again, he angled his cock to jut into her painfully, making her gasp in strained pain at the stretch, followed by a sob.

“I’m just a slut-” She sniffled, eyes spiralling when looking into his unforgiving scarlet ones.

He smiled again, kissing her cheek.

“Who’s?”

The kiss became a lick, as he dragged his tongue up her tear-slicked cheek.

“Who’s slut?”

He felt her tremble and stiffen under his tongue, her eye’s squeezing shut.

“Your slut.” She answered, but it proved not to be good enough as another sharp painful thrust hit her core. “Bakugo’s slut.” 

She knew it was wrong the second she said it as a growl rumbled against her neck, his teeth gracing, scraping against her tender flesh. 

“Katsuki’s slut!” 

The words all broken and wet and beautiful coming from her bloated and reddened lips.

He placed a chaste kiss to her jaw, nibbling his way up to her mouth, whispering upon them. “Yeah, that’s right, you’re nothing without me.”

He kissed roughly, growling for her to kiss back, hand still tightly locked around her neck, begging for her to refuse him only for him to squeeze the life out of her.

His tongue pushed into her mouth as he slobbered and drooled above her, mouth sucking on her lips, trailing down her jaw and down her throat, nibbling and biting and lapping at her skin like some hound drooling over steak.

His hand left her throat to grasp her clothed breasts as he hit a particular spot, calling an unintentional bucking of her hips into him, making him groan in pleasure, his own thrusts gaining speed, hitting that same spot he now knew would make her unravel.

“You’re so lucky to get my cock.”

He worked himself into a taller position again, dragging himself off her chest to admire what artwork he’d made of her collar and chest.

“Say you love it.”

She shook her head, a petty begging-look on her face. 

It was a weak protest, almost enough to make him let it go, yet still outweighed by his need to make her pay.

His hips suddenly thrusting into her deeply, sharply, in all the ways he’d found out hurt.

She cried out. “No, no, Bakugo, please!” Panicked sobbing, her chest arching in pain, her legs coming to kick him off, yet were stopped as he pushed her knees into her chest. Jutting into her brutally.

“Say you love it and I’ll go slower.”

He saw her knuckles whiten at how hard she was balling her fists, tugging at her bonds desperately.

“I’ll fuck you good.” He promised, finding himself grow excited upon the thought. “Nice and slow like lovers do.” He had to snicker, even as she sobbed and hiccupped up screams that caught in her throat at his sharp thrusts, her eyes screwed tightly shut, allowing no tears to drop yet leaving them swimming in stinging salt.

His head dropped again to her temple, lips nibbling lightly on her cheek bone, his heavy breaths sounding louder than what snapping noise was made between his hips and the softness of her ass.

“Come on…” He drawled an impatient growl into her ear, a rumble that strung another whimper out from her.

More sobs followed, broken in their execution. “I love it… I love it.”

She hadn’t screamed it the way he wanted, but hearing it hang loosely onto her cries, all trembling and weak, was somehow better than what he thought he’d wanted anyway.

He slowed down, enough to lessen the sound of flesh slapping flesh and for the squishy noise of him filling her up again and again to replace it.

“What do you love?”

He made his way to rip open the seams of her shirt on her shoulder, not caring in the moment that she didn’t have a spare uniform to replace it. The shirt gone before she could even answer his question.

“You’re cock, I love you’re cock.” She sobbed, as her bra met with the same fate her shirt had, leaving her in just her little black skirt and one sock remaining, her tits springing loose, bouncing on both her cries and Bakugo’s movements.

“Fuck, good, such an obedient little pet.”

His head fell into the newly presented bare flesh with a moan, heavy panting as he slobbered up the valley between her breasts, palming the soft mounds before twisting the nipples between his fingertips, pulling at them, playing with them, his mouth sucking and biting, teasing the tender sensitivity.

His hands quitting their torment in favor of holding onto each their knee to keep her spread open for him as he rolled deeply into her spot.

“Feels so fucking-” He groaned, not bothering to finish the thought, before another impulse struck him.

His position in having his face buried in her neck and his body laid tight and snug on top of hers moved, making her feel the wisp of a chill coat her as their warm sweat-slicked bodies parted, feeling almost as though they were glued together as he pulled away, cock still being kept warm inside the comfort of her walls.

His hands came up to fickle with the knot that kept her hands locked above her head, his fingers sloppily tugging to loosen the tie, before gripping her hips tightly in a fashion meant to make sure she understood that despite being loose she was far from actually free.

Lifting her up of the spot she’d sunk into on the mattress and on to straddling his torso, his feet hitting the ground with a dunk with her propped up on his thighs, every little movement of his adjusting making his cock poke and message into other new dangerous places, places too tight to be attacked in whichever reckless unthoughtful way Bakugo saw fit.

Fingers running, or rather digging into her skin and making way to rake up her sides, grabbing and clinging to her midriff to pull her close, with his thighs beginning to impatiently move in a boyish manor to satiate the need for friction his member craved.

One arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand made to grab her chin, allowing him to look over her, again tempted to bite into those lushes red lips, all bloated and made for his teeth to gnaw on. Yet, his mouth made way to her neck instead, licking up her throat, sucking on the thin skin, wanting to make his mark flourish in red explosions all over her.

“Be a good quirkless slut and bounce on my cock, make yourself useful for once.”

His knees jolted upwards making her hop, followed by his cock sinking deeper into her.

Her hands held uncertainly mid-air made to grip his shoulders at the further intrusion, biting back another cry, however unable to keep the sobbing sigh from rupturing her throat.

However, she wasn’t given long to recover as his hand came down to plant a red-hot slap on her ass, making her jump on her own.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

She started moving, unsure of what or which way to do it, finding the rhythm of rocking her hips forward after a while, earning a disgusting sigh of satisfaction from the blonde holding a bruising grip on her.

“That’s right...”

His arm moving to hold a death-grip on her waist, thumb digging into the underside of her ribs, poking each time she lolled forward and at the same time threatened her to stop.

His other hand came to grip her face again, stiff lips crashing against teary lips. Sucking her face as though stealing her life-source, only breaking between breaths to announce cocky cruel comments and instructions.

“Stay right there, slut.” A thrust from his hips accompanied the nickname, making her wince and lurch forward into him. “Aww that’s cute.”

Both his hands went under her skirt to grab at her ass, lifting her up only to sleeve himself inside her once again.

“Does that feel good? Huh? Right there?”

Another slap and she rested even harder against his chest, trying to find comfort in the pitch black her screwed-shut eyes left her in, yet the overwhelming scent of caramel wasn’t easily ignored, and neither was how perfectly his cock sunk into her.

His hands fingered the fabric of her skirt as he bumped into her from beneath. Tugging on the textile until ripping it off, the action earning her gasp as she was now wearing nothing but her one sock, the skirt having provided as some false sense of coverage.

“Is the slut enjoying herself?” He mocked, a salacious grin constantly spreading on his face between moans and grunts.

She shook her head, the urge to fight herself to freedom awakening yet again as her hands moved to push at his chest. 

“No… stop.”

But her back was supported, or rather steadied, with Bakugo’s large palm, little sparking ignitions gaining control of her struggles quickly, the fight leaving her body with a whimper of defeat, just as quickly as it had arrived.

Another sharp thrust ripped a strangled moan from her and he grinned. 

“Liar.” He snickered. “You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good little slut 'cause that's the only thing you know how not to fuck up, only thing your whore mom ever taught you.”

Forcing her hips to roll faster, the slick coated their thighs as her tits bounced for him.

“Does she share this bed with both you and her crackhead fuck-friends?” 

He couldn’t defend his need to make her cringe in his arms, why he wanted to see her ashamed, why he wanted her crying into him. 

“Such a freak. Are you gonna cum on the same sheets your mom sleeps on?”

Sharp fingers dug into her cheeks again, all because he wanted to be entertained by the show of her breaking.

He pulled her hips closer, fighting to hit that spot that had her mewling earlier, wanting to hear her mewl again, wanting to prove his point.

Once he found it she fell flush against him, melting in his hands, soft-spoken moans falling like drool down her chin.

“Like that, right there?” His words fell hot on her lips as his thumb pushed into her mouth and down onto her tongue, holding her chin in place. 

Her eyes crossed then upon his cock nudging in just the right way against her cervix, as well as her brows drawing up into a pretty eruption. 

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groaned, clutching tighter onto her hip, rocking her forward to meet his thrusts. “Are you gonna cum on my cock, huh?”

With his thumb still dipped into her mouth, she tried her best to retort. 

“No…” 

It couldn’t be referred to as defiance as it was too pitiful to be called that.

“Yes, you are.”

He sucked on her collarbone, making his way up by kissing a trail of slobbering kisses and bites to her ear. 

With his hips still angled just right, his thumb left her mouth to grip her other hip. 

He could feel her tight little pussy start to convulse around his shaft, small flutters that squeezed him tightly, milking him.

She hated that she wanted to spill over so badly. The surging swimming boiling buzz constantly teased by Katsuki’s plush cockhead pushing and poking and jabbing at her cervix again and again.

She felt it coming, the snapping, breaking, splitting, the building coming close to bursting, yet she was reminded of who she was with in her reach for bliss and found herself regretting chasing it.

“No, no, not with him, not with him, not-”

It was too late as she tried holding it back, tried grasping it as hard as she was clamping down on his cock, as hard as she was digging her nails into his shoulders.

The movements of his hips slowed down. 

“There you go. Feel good, slut?” He mocked as her body spasmed, skin freezing over under his touch, feeling disgusted, skin-crawlingly disgusted with herself and how she was unable to control the continuous spasms that seemed to ricochet through her spontaneously. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

His speed picked up again, humping into her, making her ride through her orgasm, feeling the almost painful ticklish pressure build again upon each time he bottomed-out ruthlessly inside the comfort of her wet walls.

“No, Bakugo stop, stop!” Her pleads weren’t met.

“Is it too much?” He laughed, gathering a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck in order to make her look up at him, making her wince as he spit his words into her face. “Mommy didn't do too good a job at raising her slut, I see. Can't even handle cumming without crying." He jeered, mock pouting at her with his forehead pressed into hers, blood-soaked orbs forcing eye-contact from her wide tear-stained ones as she whimpered. "Aw, is my cock too much for the little whore?”

“Yes, stop!” She couldn't care less if she was answering some cruel nickname , the painful pressure assaulted inside her was something too vehement she needed to make relent, but yet again was her plead answered with a lack of mercy in an eerie whisper and nothing more.

“I’m not finished yet.”

All she could do was beg for him to finish… so that’s what she did. 

“Please...”

He gathered her face in his hand again, fingers squishing into her cheeks hurtfully as he made to sneer into her face. 

“Please what? Please fuck your whore cunt harder? Please make you cum again?”

Even as he snickered and mocked, his cock twitched at the sight of her. 

Eyes all puffy and swimming in her own tears, eyebrows knitted together, begging for mercy. 

Completely and literally held in the palm of his hand, yet her gaze still managing to make him feel fuzzy with the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

“Oh fuck, say you love me.”

Cold dread made up most of her body, what else was the rising crippling shameful feeling of something sweet knotting up somewhere in her lower abdomen again, this time harder than before as her already abused high was continuously pocked by Katsuki’s swollen cockhead kissing her cervix harshly again and again and again, driving her insane. And all of it made his demand impossible to answer, impossible to even comprehend.

Yet, she was in no position to refuse with her face held up between his fingertips and his crimson eyes boring holes straight into her terror-wide heart.

“Say you love me or I’ll cum inside you.” His voice lacking all she considered still human. Not a hint of remorse or guilt or shame or pity.

She gulped on her breaths, yet managed to voice the words. “I love you, Katsuki.”

Her eyes now unable to look away from him. Even as he picked up the painful pace, stabbing at her core, in places she had no former knowledge of, places the length of her fingers could never even as much as dream of reaching.

“Fuck.” A boyish virginal whimper laced the moan that escaped him at her words, satisfaction easing the raging and crazed look on his face. “I love you too.”

His toes curled painfully, cold and numb against the floorboards.

“I love you.”

Hands warm and sliding against dewy and doughy flesh.

"I love you."

Something pulling, straining, building to burst was chasing release, sending spasms to shoot through his shaft.

"I love you."

He knew what was coming. He knew it would be better than ever.

“We’ll get you a pill later, ‘kay?”

The guilt was washed over with the promise of painting her walls.

“It’s fine.” He tried reassuring as he felt her revolt in his arms, all her strength fighting to get off him, yet was no match against the force of his hands holding onto her, and his need to explode inside.

She resulted to begging instead. “No, no, Katsuki stop, don’t, please!”

Feeling her hope being crushed in his palm, picturing his laughing face as she turned her vision to black, his feral smile like supersonic light, dangerous and deadly and made to rip throats out.

And then it was done, she felt the last thrust like the last blow through her gut.

Cream filling her up, smearing between their thighs, Katsuki’s head resting on her shoulder with his hands holding onto her hips, fingers marking their presence into her back yet softening their grip with each of his panting breaths landing on her breasts.

Her blood ran cold through stiff veins, as though she were dead. Her skin crawling, as though rotting with mites. 

Sickness. 

Sickness in her lungs, in her throat, building, climbing up her pipes.

She slung herself off in a hurry, and with Katsuki coming down from whatever sick high he was riding, he wasn’t alert enough to catch her, which was probably a good thing because after her staggering her way to the bathroom, feeling his cum and her wetness leak out of her and drip along the inside of her thighs, she only barely made it in time to open the toilet compartment, get to her knees in the small space and haul her guts out into the small stained bowl.

Feeling like her mother, each time she came home all sweaty, mascara smeared with tears on her face like a garbage racoon, sticking her fingers down her throat and gagging until she collapsed on the floor, face laid in her own puke.

She heard Katsuki’s heavy footsteps, one and two before his hand met with her neck. Collecting her hair in a ponytail in his grip with the other hand encompassing her naked back.

She was afraid he was going to pull her up, expecting her scalp to soon scream in protest at the feel of her hairs being ripped up from their roots. 

Yet, as she awaited the torture… all she felt was the slow stroking of carefully placed paths running up her spine and then down to the small of her back in a manor either meant to be comforting or patronizing, with her hair being kept away from her face as she retched on repeat.

It was mostly just water and acid, and Katsuki made a mental note to make her eat later as he helped her up with his hands under her arms, supporting her when seeing how her shivering rendered her knees too weak to stand on her own, lifting her up on a tiny counter which would have been impossible for him if he were to try and sit on it, yet seemed the perfect size for her.

The ruff base of his thumb brushed the spit from the corner of her mouth, her large eyes meeting his own as he leaned in, soft weak hands only barely pushing against his chest in an act to stop him, but his lips pushed onto her anyway.

Parting with a string of silver connecting them, and he couldn’t help but fall prey to how beautiful she was even in her broken ugliness, how prettily her eyes fluttered with sticky eyelashes clutching together as though hugging for comfort, stray wisps of hair dancing in front of her face. Her wet breaths, sobbing breaths, hiccupping breaths, trembling past those soft pillow-y and blossomed lips, plump and full and bitable, or huffed through her nose, sniveling and sniffing and so very unfairly precious.

His thumb stroked over those lips, watching them quiver. 

He took time admiring her, feeling her cold fingertips vibrate against his chest, wondering if she could feel how hard his heart was hammering inside his ribcage with how much she was shaking. Wondering if she knew just how much he’d wanted this, how long he’d wanted this, how despite him ignoring her cries, that she understood how this wasn’t in vain, how he wasn’t just doing this because he could, that he was doing this because he needed to, that he wasn’t doing this because he hated her but because he loved her, loved her too much to let her simply slip from between his fingers again.

His fingers latched onto the band of her sock, pulling it down and off at her toes, finally leaving her completely bare.

“Let’s get you in the shower.”

He moved to pick her up, uncaring of her newly sparked urge to fight him.

“No, Katsuki…”

She tried pushing, she tried making him stop despite everything being slippery and sticky and gross. The want to cry herself to sleep knowing and finding some comfort in the fact that Katsuki was done with her and long gone outweighed the want to get clean.

“The water’s cold, you won’t like it.” She argued in a weak attempt to sway him from the idea, yet knowing full well that he didn’t care.

“Come on…” He drawled as he caught her bothersome fists by the wrists in his massive hands. “We’ll take a shower and then we’ll go get your pill…” 

He fought to find eye-contact. 

“We both know you don’t have the money for it anyway…”

Typical of him to mention her situation. Typical of him to use it against her. And though it was typical, though it was predictable, it still made her heart clench, her soul twist, her spirit crumble.

He swore he saw something start to break in her eyes, wanting to deliver the final blow to snuff out whatever fight she still had left. 

He leaned in more, his nose brushing against hers.

“You need me.”

Her struggles stopped at that, Katsuki wrapping her legs around his back to support her as he carried her to the shower. Her cheek resting on his shoulder, completely deflated.

It wasn’t at all as in the movies. Sweet couples who help wash each other’s hair, warm bodies gliding against one another, soft perfect handprints printed on the dewy glass.

She hadn’t been lying, the water was freezing as the showerhead spritzed the water down on them with a force close to that of aching.

They didn’t both fit in the crammed space either, Katsuki was sure that even him alone wouldn’t fit in the tight space, where he was left to have one foot on the floorboards outside the door, water rushing into the hallway, running down his leg, but he didn't care.

His frame blocked the door completely, allowing her no shape or form of exit as he made her stand there, under the showerhead, hair slicking to her neck and nipples perking into hardness under the freeze, goosebumps strutted and coated her flesh from head to toe, her cheeks and lips blossomed with a purple hue, her eyes closed, head dipped in discomfort or shame or embarrassment or sorrow or a bit of everything and even more.

Her body trembled beneath his warm hands, as they cupped her breasts, palming them and playing and pinching with her back hunching in a weak effort to get her discomfort across, despite knowing how he didn’t care, with the fact having been proven time and time again.

His warm calloused fingertips brushed down her abdomen, eyes stark and loud as they looked at her body, thinking of how unblemished and beautiful her skin was as opposed to him, no roughness or ugly greenish bruises, just milky smooth and rosy suppleness and all his.

His hand traveled further, causing her small ones to reach out and grip around his wrist, both hands giving their best effort at trying to stop him. Though his other hand was quick to wrap around her throat and extract a sweet gasp with the movement.

Her hands removed their pressure yet remained on him as he brushed featherlight touches over the sensitiveness of her sex, fingertips dipping into her folds, slithering in the slick velvet of his cum mixed with her wetness.

A sob ricocheted through her as her toes curled, fingers bending and nailing into his wrist. Still, he continued. Fingers pushing inside, pumped knuckle-deep inside the puffy spongey walls, reaching deep before scissoring, making her knees bend, yet kept from falling by the hand around her neck keeping her up like a noose as he curled the two digits.

Her eyes avoided his, looking down at his limp cock who somehow seemed just as intimidating as before, like a sleeping beast ready to wake at any second. 

Yet, as much as he played with her sex, his own remained still.

He picked her up again as he saw more of her skin going purple, not really wanting her to get sick, just refreshed.

Water flooded on the soft-with-mould floorboards in the tight hallway as her feet dragged against the walls when he yet again carried her to the bed. And as much as she wanted to fight as he placed her dripping body down onto the sheets, she couldn’t find the energy. Tears, however, still managed to drip down her face, unhurriedly gliding down her cheeks, warm in stark contrast amidst the freezing shower-water.

“Do you wanna hear something really fucked up?”

It was rhetorical, but he wouldn’t have gotten an answer either way.

“I used to be jealous of your crack-whore mother…”

Her face cringed, confused yet still not desiring to know what he meant.

“Fuck, I’m still jealous when you come to school and I see that there's somebody else who makes you cry harder than me.”

She had to swallow in order not to gulp.

“You’re sick.”

Those were the wrong words, for as quickly as they entered the air, he was once again on top of her, squeezing the breath from out of her lungs.

“I’m sick?” He questioned, fingers plunging inside her, a forced moan ripped from her throat. “You’re the one cumming and creaming and squirting all over my cock while crying.” He bit out while starting to pump into her cruelly, finding it easier now as she was already wet from before. “Telling me you love it, telling me you love me.” He laughed as he sneered. “Who would’ve known what a slut you are. So desperate you let your own bully fuck you like this. You fucking whore.” 

His pushed his thumb into her clit cruelly, a sadistic smile on his face as she struggled.

“Stop, shut up, shut up!” Her palms made to push at his hard chest, yet was weakened as she felt the burning sweetness start to pool were his fingers poked.

“You don’t like that nickname? No? Aww, that’s fine.” He hissed, then scoffed. “It’s not true anyway...” He muttered beneath his breath, trying to find what sweet spot his fingers could reach as so to have her unravel beneath him again, wanting to lick the sin from her expression, wanting to bathe in his victory of making her his. “How did it feel to have my cock balls deep inside your precious little virgin innocent cunt, huh? Better yet, how does it feel to know how I am your first? First to kiss you, first to fuck you, first to make you cum.”

“Fuck you.”

Any remnants of strength was now spent on those last words, as the rest was spared to support her oncoming orgasm, the one she could feel clawing, sucking all senses up as though preparing for an implosion.

“That’s right…” He whispered. “Fuck me. Your first and your last.”

His ominous tone had her guts churning, which in some sick sense only added to the pooling dam that was about to snap inside her, but she kept her eyes wide, further digging into what his words meant, wondering if this would be her last day on earth, wondering if Bakugo would be the last person she'd ever see, ever feel, ever touch.

“You look like I’m gonna kill you.” He observed as he curled his fingers once again, making her hips buckle into his hand, which in turn made him grin. “Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you…”

His head dipped so that he could nibble at her neck, lick up the tender flesh with his fingers pumping in and out of her, coated in slick, collecting and drenching in his palm.

“I’m just gonna make sure no one ever touches what’s mine again…”

She couldn’t explain why the growl in his voice had her abdomen doing flips.

“Including that fuckface slut you call a mother.”

His fingers scissored, her back arching as she moaned.

“You’ll be lucky I even let you graduate.”

She couldn’t quite catch what he was saying anymore, just the lilt in his tone which had her falling apart beneath him, the walls of her pussy fluttering in pleasure.

“People go missing all the time.”

Her toes curled and she braced herself.

“That way I can have you all for myself.”

His warm lips pressed against her neck, his growls reverberating on her skin.

“All mine.”

His fingers poked at something that was about to burst and as she wanted to climb further up on the bed to escape it, she also wanted him to follow.

“Where you belong.”

And there it was, body melting into the mattress, all shame obsolete in those seconds.

Unable to see him lick her orgasm off his fingers as her eyes had crossed and traveled way too far into the back of her skull.

Unable to prepare for his kiss as her mouth hung open, soft feeble moans cut loose into the air, captured by Bakugo’s mouth.

She didn’t catch the second he stopped kissing her, nor did she catch the moment he got off the bed.

She must have fallen asleep for a short while because when she opened her eyes again Bakugo was dressed, rummaging through cabinets containing worn out clothes and things like it, seeming displeased with most of what he found.

She looked to her side, where placed on the bed was a towel, fresh underwear and a bra.

She motioned for the towel first, feeling the shameful wet stickiness between her thighs, hurriedly wiping it clean before putting on her garments, looking up to see Bakugo staring at her, having found something suitable to dress her in.

“Put this on.” 

She didn’t bother looking at what he’d so graciously offered her of her own clothes.

Her eyes narrowed at him instead. 

“I don’t want your help.” She sneered, looking away, crossing her arms over her chest as so to hide herself from his piercing gaze.

His fingertips were quick in clutching her cheeks, raking them into her skin as he turned her head back to look at him.

“Too bad, you need it.”

The fabric was cast at her lap unceremoniously, the soft silky feel cold against her bare thighs.

“Put it on.” The growl was followed by him removing his hand with a push.

She huffed before looking down at the presented article, wondering what Bakugo wanted to dress her up in, her lips forming a disgusted snarl.

“It’s my mother’s.”

The yellow summer-dress, flowy and frilly in texture, something she’d never wear, something Bakugo knew well she would never wear.

“It’d go to waste on her.”

This made her look up, curiosity or maybe even a form of flattery evident in the curl between her brows.

The sudden eye-contact catching Bakugo off guard as he’d shared the uncharacteristically tender opinion of the girl out loud.

He scoffed, crimson eyes darkening in an attempt to hide the building flustered panic, masking it with a growl instead. 

“Put it on, I won’t ask again.”

She fingered the fabric for a while longer before treading it on over her head, letting the skirt dress her thighs with a featherlight fall.

Looking like a spring-daydream, not at all as though she’d just lived through a nightmare.

With her drying hair falling in messy curled tousles down her shoulders, Bakugo reached out a hand to fasten the small wispy strands coming to tickle her forehead behind her ear, grabbing her wrists in favor of her hand when he pulled her up.

“Let’s go. I can’t stand this shithole.”

Wondering if he should have said that he couldn’t stand her in that shithole instead.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

[lonely-lost-soul]

Since I've Been Gone

Request: what if...Platonic fluff things with reader and bench trio?... Like they're all in a flower field chilling then Tommy is like, "You guys wanna make flower crowns?" And reader, ranboo, and tubbo just look at him like 👁👁 what, Turns out Tommy picked up flower crown making from his big brothers techno and Wilbur so now he does it when he's either bored or stressed. Anyways hope this inspires you <3 -🐱 Anon

(Platonic!Bench Trio x Gn!Reader)

The server had been through a lot, Tommy was just recently revived and was coming off of finding out his two best friends were married. The young boy had a white streak in his blonde hair and was still trying to adjust to the life he missed. Especially when it came to his longtime friend and roommate (y/n). Tommy had recently found out they were off living with Karl and Sapnap in the Kinoko Kingdom...the bitch. After Tommy had disappeared after he...died Karl had found them hiding out in his old library. You had scared the time-traveler half to death when he found you camping out in a corner of the room. However, after seeing as you had nothing, no weapons or armor he concluded you weren’t much of a threat, especially after you told him your sob story. You told him you lived with Tommy and you couldn’t go back there now that he was dead, Ranboo and Tubbo were off doing married things and you had felt so alone. Karl decided at that moment he would take you in, no matter what the cost. Sapnap had a bit more trouble adjusting to your presence, but as soon as he saw you had some fire within your belly he began to warm up to you. It only took a few days for Karl to practically adopt you and since he was engaged to Sapnap the fire demon was stuck with you for a child.

Not that he minded, you weren’t a loud kid, very pleasant to be around hell even his dad took a liking to you. Sapnap was baffled when Karl told him you had previously lived with Tommy, the most obnoxious child on the server. The two of you couldn’t be more different, and when Tommy was revived, he and Karl weren’t enthused. Karl was worried he’d lose you to the trouble maker and it was well known Tommy and Sapnap didn’t have the greatest history. Their worries were quelled the moment you introduced them as your dads to Tommy, Karl burst into tears and Sapnap put you in a headlock much to your protest. Tommy stood by awkwardly, he had missed a lot, he hated the fact that he felt like his friends were happier without him in their lives.

He was brought back to the present by the idle chatter of Tubbo and Ranboo by his side Tubbo was on Ranboo’s back declaring walking was way too much work for him. You snickered nudging Ranboo in the ribs, he let out a yelp and glared down at you halfheartedly. Tommy watched you turn towards him a smile on his features,

“What do you think Tommy?” He blinked a few times at you, not wanting to admit he wasn’t listening to the conversation next to him.

“I don’t fucking know,” He scoffed “This conversation is bullshit anyway who cares.” You had a smirk on your lips that he was all too familiar with, he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You weren’t listening were you?”

“Of course I was listening bitch!”

“Oh really? What did she ask then big man?” Tubbo mused resting his chin on his husband’s shoulder. Hair covering his vibrant, green eyes, horns peeking from beneath his shaggy hair. Tommy glared at his long time friend flipping him off eloquently,

“Probably something stupid and useless.”

“She asked if you knew where we were going,” Ranboo piped up with a casual hum, bouncing in his step. “Cause we’ve been walking for a while, I know Tubbo’s tired.”

“Yeah Tommy, I’m tired.”

“You’re not even walking!” You argued as Tubbo stuck his tongue out at you, lifting his hair from his eyes to wink at you. His one eye glowing with a yellow nuclear symbol, “Put that symbol away! You’re not cool.”

“Says the person who doesn’t own nukes,” He mused letting his hair fall back into place while grabbing onto Ranboo’s horns. “Or who doesn’t have any cool powers,”

“Ow! Low blow! Just cause Tommy and I are the only two humans in the group doesn’t mean you can pick on us! Right, Tommy!”

“Yeah! Exactly! Fuck you guys!” Tommy agreed linking your arms together, “Plus, I know exactly where we’re going. We’re almost there, Wilbur used to take me here all the time when I was little.” Tommy said almost in an afterthought, the kids around him grew quiet, each one knew Wilbur was a touchy subject for Tommy especially after his time in the afterlife. Yet, people seemed to forget that Wilbur wasn’t always crazy, wasn’t always a manipulator, once he was an older brother. Once he cared for Tommy and wanted to protect him from some of Phil’s neglect, protect him from Technoblade’s voices. Tommy wanted to remember that Wilbur, not the one stuck in purgatory who blew up the country they all fought so hard to retain. He felt your hand squeeze his arm,

“I’m excited to see where Wilbur decided to take you, hopefully, it’s not a fish pond.”

“Oh gross.” Ranboo groaned pinching the bridge of his nose as Tubbo laughed loudly from above him. Tommy made a disgusted face,

“Stop talking about all the fish who fucked my brother!”

“I didn’t you did.” You hummed skipping ahead of the group feet crunching on the leaves on the ground.

“YOU BASTARD!” Tommy shrieked running after you,

“Onward steed!” Tubbo pointed at his two friends who ran off, Ranboo grumbled but trotted after the duo.

It only took a few more arguments and a few more minutes of walking before the quartet came to the destination Tommy was eager to show them. You stopped on your heels jaw-dropping in awe,

“Holy shit…” You murmured, in front of all of you was a gorgeous field of flowers a giant dark oak tree sat in the middle. It was giant spanning up far into the sky but it created a nice shade to keep all of you cooled off. Tommy had a rare peaceful smile on his lips as he let the sun touch his face, he slid off his boots and ran into the field of flowers.

“Take your shoes off so you don’t crush them or I’ll crush you!” Tommy snickered falling back, letting the flowers tickle his cheeks. He opened his eyes just a crack to see you sliding off your boots and joining him in the field, you didn’t lay beside him instead he watched your form head to the tree. Meanwhile, Tubbo kicked off his boots, Ranboo wasn’t far behind his husband. Tubbo laughed running over and flopping next to Tommy, holding his arm close much to the blonde’s displeasure.

“Ranboo! Help me reach the taller branches!” You called to the tallest member of your friend group. He nodded walking over to you, grabbing your waist gently he lifted you into the air. You grabbed onto the nearest branch and hoisted yourself into the air, Ranboo was always shocked at your upper body strength, but then again you trained on your own for years. Ranboo hovered at the base of the tree nervously, both of his tails flicking side to side.

“Don’t climb too high!” He called watching you slip and cling onto the trunk to steady yourself. “(Y/n) CAREFUL!”

“I’m fine, mom!” You stuck your tongue out at him from above, “I’ve fallen out of taller trees!”

“If you get hurt Sapnap would literally burn me alive! So PLEASE try not to fall!”

“Boo calm down a little!” Tubbo snickered, “if they fall I’ll film it.”

“Tubbo has the right idea,” you agreed as Tommy laughed from beside Tubbo. Ranboo frowned ears twitching in distress, you only continued to climb higher to his dismay. Eventually, you came down falling elegantly into the arms of Ranboo who caught you easily. He was breathing heavily, recovering from the shock of your sudden drop. His long nails dug into your skin as he clutched onto you like a lifeline, “Ranboo let go!” You huffed trying to wiggle out of his tight grip.

“Absolutely not! Are you a lunatic!” His voice broke, “I could’ve missed! You could’ve broken an ankle!”

“But I didn’t,” You poked his nose with a teasing hum. Ranboo groaned louder placing his head in the crook of your neck, you snickered as he finally let you onto the ground. You walked over to Tommy and Tubbo and sat down next to them, you leaned against Tommy’s back who grunted in distaste. “Deal with it gremlin, be my backrest,”

“Fuck you bitch!” He snarled but didn’t move or push them off, you smiled teasingly winking in the direction of Tubbo. He snickered into his palm as Ranboo pulled Tubbo into his lap, and the young goat hybrid got comfortable. The four of you sat in peaceful silence, letting the sun beat down around you all. A nice breeze blew through the area causing the leaves of the nearby trees to shake, a few animals rustled around in the bushes.

“We should make flower crowns,” Tommy spoke up suddenly his nails digging into the dirt. You titled your head in confusion and Raboo looked equally as baffled, the only person who didn’t seem surprised was Tubbo.

“Sure man but you gotta collect the flowers,” Tubbo said tiredly Tommy clicked his tongue stubbornly.

“We’re surrounded by flowers you’re just lazy.”

“Yeah obviously.”

You gave Tubbo a look and sat up on your knees, “What do you need to get started?”

“Can you grab me some of those daisy’s, tulips, and some bluebells?” You nodded standing up and popping your knees before heading off in that direction. Meanwhile, Tommy grabbed some lilacs and began stringing those together, his tongue poked out from his bottom lip as he gave his full concentration to the task in front of him. Ranboo watched curiously ears flicking every time Tommy let out a mumble, you came back and dumped the flowers beside him. He grunted out thanks making the final knot in the crown, “Done!” He declared looking over at Ranboo, he flushed a little under Tommy’s gaze.

“Didn’t mean to stare.” Tommy huffed holding out the crown to the halfling, he pointed at himself and Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Take it. If you don’t want it I’ll just give it to (Y/n)-”

“I want it!” Ranboo reached out to snatch the crown from Tommy, he placed it gently on his head mindful of the horns. Tommy’s eyes widened and he flushed red, he quickly turned back to the pile of flowers. “Teach us how to make them,” Ranboo offered to try to ease the awkward tension. Tommy huffed but nodded, a smile spread across your lips,

“Teach us your ways oh wise one.” You teased picking up the daisy’s spinning the stem between your fingers.

“Yeah! I am wise! Call me master innit!”

“I’d rather choke,”

“Fuck you!”

You snicked as Tommy punched you hard in the shoulder, you doubled over falling into the flowers. Tommy growled pulling you up by the shirt, “Pay attention bitch! I’m only telling you this once!” Sitting back up you nodded and followed his instructions carefully, he ended up taking the daisies and you the tulips. Ranboo grabbed the bluebells reaching over Tubbo to follow Tommy’s instructions as well, by the end Tommy’s was pristine. The one you made was decent but Ranboo’s looked worse for wear considering he was trying to put it together with claws. He put the crown on top of a snoozing Tubbo, he was proud of his work nonetheless, his husband smiled tiredly nuzzling against his chest. You on the other hand placed the tulip crown you made atop of Tommy’s blonde hair, he flushed and rolled his eyes. He brushed his fingers over the daisies and placed them on top of your head, you looked up at the crown and smiled warmly.

“Thank’s Big T,” you hummed falling back into the flowers and Tommy joined you in laying down. Both your fingers interlocked and Ranboo shuffled to the ground as well, although he didn’t reach out to take Tommy’s hand, Tommy reached out to take Tubbo’s. The four of you stayed in that field until your walkie-talkie screeched cutting through the quiet atmosphere, it was the gruff voice of Sapnap’s. One of your fathers

“Earth to (Y/n), come in (y/n). Your dad wants you here for dinner, George is joining us tonight. I grilled!”

“Ugh. Buzzkill,” Tommy sneered kicking the dirt with his barefoot. You shushed him and pressed the button in to speak,

“Yeah papa, I’ll make my way back soon. Give papa a big kiss for me and if you see Quackirty tell him hello!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Karl come here honey~” You snickered as Tommy gagged, you heard your dad meow before your walkie cut off then and you sat up. You stretched your arms above your head and popped your arms into place, you kissed your teeth hopping to your feet.

“I gotta head back unless I want dad to beat my ass. Thank you for today boys and Tommy thank you for sharing your place with us. I’m glad we were trusted with this special secret.” You winked wiggling your toes in the long grass, “we should do this again yeah?”

“Yeah!” Ranboo agreed as Tubbo gave a sleepy thumbs up, your smile only widened. Tommy nodded giving a thumbs-up as well, he watched you head off to collect your boots and head back home. Head to a family, a family who cares about your wellbeing, or if you’re staying out too late. Hell, even who cared about who you were hanging out with, Tommy couldn’t help but wonder what that was like, he didn’t think he’d be very good at listening to any parental figures. He didn’t have that, he would never have that, he looked at your retreating figure, then back over at Tubbo and Ranboo. They both were half asleep and he couldn’t help but glance at the golden rings on each one of their fingers.

He missed so much since he’s been gone.

But maybe all wasn’t bad, he touched the tulips on his head, thinking for a moment.

Maybe he didn’t need a normal family with a mom and a dad, or two dads or moms, he had a family right here. He brought his hand to the scarf on his neck and squeezed it in his fist, who needed that shit when he had everyone he loved in this field with him today.

For once in his life, Tommy was happy.

[anika-ann]

One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.  

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.  

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers​.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’  Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part VI)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: After weeks of tension and mutual pining, Eren and reader finally succumb to their most carnal and animalistic desires.

Word Count: 7.9k

His cold hands were still resting on my skin. The body heat of each of us was reversing until we became the temperature of the other. In what had been burning for a moment, now my cheeks felt cold, icy, the skin on my chest and hips began to feel discomfort and the wind that was blowing did nothing but make me shiver. Instead, Eren's hands became warm, pleasant to the touch, but uncomfortable and unsure at the same time towards my sanity. The fingers of his left hand were moving over my hip in an attempt to massage a bruise that had just risen above the bone, a bruise that I had just noticed when his hand moved slightly up my shirt to lay flat on my skin and flesh. His right hand, still positioned on my cheek, ran the few tears that continued to fall, just as the trail of the already dry traces that this salty stream had left behind disappeared.

The situation wasn’t comforting at all. The burning sensation and fever that had reigned over my body moments before, had dissipated like a bucket of cold water on a small fire. Now I was cold, stiff, shivering and with memories of previous years haunting my mind, memories that once were to be saved to treasure when we were all old and at peace, but now it seemed that they only brought sadness and misfortune.

My eyes were fixed, unseeing, on Eren's bare chest. His skin showed no signs of hits or bruises like mine, damn it, the only thing that could be distinguished was his beefy abs, worked for years, stained with dirt and a few tiny blades of grass stuck to them. I watched as his chest swelled with each inhalation he took, his breathing calmed, no traces of the hectic fight or the makeout session. My hands, already tired from continuing to maintain pressure, now I limited myself to moving my fingers from the inside and out of my palm, occasionally brushing Eren's pelvis with my nails. I stretched them out, letting my fingertips rest on his hip, the small leaves adhering to his skin tickled my fingers and with slight movements I took them out one by one and left them on the grass around us... Some of them stuck to my fingers because of the humidity and the mud accumulated on the rib.

I cleaned them with my palms, but noticing that they didn’t come off easily, I simply ran my hands through my pants, staining them even more with dirt, some leaves fell to the floor due to friction in front of the fabric, others were beautifully placed on the thighs, in U-shapes or even folded into a perfect spiral. Some even broke in two and left little green spots on top of the brown ones. Eren withdrew his hand from my cheek when felt my fingers and nails stop passing through his pelvis and began to play with the small leaves. His hand removed mine from my thighs and ran every trace of wet leaves to the floor in one simple, clean motion. Now that hand was the one that rested on the flesh of my left thigh, moving up and down, occasionally grasping the soft parts and squeezing them from time to time.

I placed my hands over my thighs again, this time over the connection between my legs and my hips, preventing some unseemly movement of Eren's hand from reaching that area without my consent. I fixed my eyes on these and just at that moment I could notice how pale they were, the bruises were still visible and the blood had completely dried, the knuckles were red and little skin began to come out as bruises began to form on top all the long fingers. My left wrist had received the same treatment, a huge bruise covered a large part of the ligament and the bone of the arm, it was even slightly displaced, probably dislocated, but I didn’t feel any pain, not even when moving it, even if it was a few centimeters. As for my right hand, I had only received a few blows on the knuckles, the occasional broken fingernail, but without showing the lower flesh.

My palms, well, I don't know if I could call them palms anymore. I turned both hands to check them and the sight didn’t make me feel better, it only made me relapse into the realization of how mistreated my body was; both were full of dirt, green spots, the product of the viscous liquid that the broken leaves left, and dried blood, apart from the large superficial cut on the right palm. They looked like shit, I have to admit. I let out a long sigh at such a miserable image. My eyes burned, but I couldn't give myself the freedom to close them because I knew that if I did, more tears would shoot out.

"Hey" Eren's hand that was for minutes massaging my hip was placed under my chin and raised my head once more, without heaviness or restrictions on my part.

My view was blocked by his long fingers, which like his torso, didn’t show any sign of injury or bruises, except for a few small traces of dried blood, my blood. I couldn’t see with complete clarity if his fingertips were equally stained, I tried to turn the head to where he was caressing me a few moments ago to find some indication of blood or injury, but Eren prevented me by bringing my face back to his, lifting it more and bringing it closer to his eyes. They were the same as I had seen them a few minutes ago, greyish turquoise and glowly. God, that glow, that damn glow. Within all possible situations, in any place, they had to return to shine here and now. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

I directed my hands to his face, placing each one on his cheeks and cradling him between them. I couldn't tell if the action caught him off guard, what I can say is that I could feel, for a thousandth of a second, his eyes widen at the touch. Color that had been lost for months had returned for a moment, as a small blush on his cheeks. For a moment, I swear for a moment, the Eren I knew was back. My eyes inspected his, trying to find that color that I had spotted, trying to find a sign of the Eren that I had loved so much, a sign that he was still there, hidden, curled up like an infant before the oh so many shadows surrounded him.

"You have beautiful eyes" It was a cruel reality but true in the same way.

His eyes were always one of his most impressive features I had ever noticed from a person. Huge, with a lot of accumulated life, a strong and bright color, unable to take my eyes off them. Those same eyes that brought security were the ones that made me doubt my actions and generated deep sadness in me; Those eyes that once made me tremble with exaltation now made me cry.

It was the same eyes that I had lost myself in on a hot sunny day at the cabin along with Levi and our little squad. That spring day, pollen in the air, the cabin full of dust and cobwebs, the boys doing their homework, while Eren and I were cleaning up. Each one cleaning in our small space, without speaking to us unless necessary, such as asking for help to move a piece of furniture if one couldn’t, or ask for the cleaning tool the other had to clean a small cobweb under a window frame. The dirty and torn glasses, in need of a delicate hand that could remove all traces of the excessive abuse during the years that this small home was disabled. I decided to clean all glasses on the lower level, leaving Eren to clean the door on both the outside and inside.

As I was cleaning the window closest to the front door, I noticed how the frames were starting to crack, a few splinters coming to the surface and being capable of injuring anyone who was not careful enough. I ran the rag through a fairly open crack, trying to remove as many splinters as possible, even dislodging the broken piece out of the frame entirely. Little by little the wood was detaching, some pieces stuck to the skin of my fingers, others fell right on my feet, and when I was finally able to completely detach the broken piece, I left it on the table in full view of all of them, so that when someone re-entered the cabin, I could warn them of the care with the respective window.

I decided to investigate more parts of the frame to see if I found more loose pieces when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure move outside the window. During my little out of all reality I had completely forgotten that Eren was cleaning right on the other side of the wall. I could see him perfectly from where I was standing. His arms, while long compared to mine, didn’t reach up to the wood of the door, having to stand on tiptoe and stretch a little to reach the dust that had accumulated in that area. His hair gathered in a cloth, preventing dirt from falling on it, made a funny image at the same time... almost cute. His young face, now half covered with the cloth, was getting younger and the way in which he stretched, reminded me of the image of a little boy in the middle of the bazaar of my town trying to reach a basket of cookies without the mother found out.

But it was neither his figure nor the way his hair was flattened and took that shape little by little, but the way in which the sunset sun reflected exactly on his eyes, turning them a lush green, much lighter and more colorful. Although his eyes were directed towards the door, I could see them without complications; I could see his eyelashes rise up and the smallest of the ends bent and tangled between them, I could see the small shiny points turn a warm color while the clean wood of the door was reflected in the iris.

At some point, I opened the window outward, allowing me to stretch my body and settle on the lower wood, resting my abdomen and elbows, holding my head in my hands as I watched the incredible scene in front of me. The sun's rays hit Eren's body, giving him an orange ring of light over his entire figure, the cloth about to come loose and fall from his head because of how badly tied it was and his hands were dirty while also being delicate when holding the rag between his fingers, perhaps an act Levi had taught him while he was alone in his squad.

The rag slipped from his hand and the moment he reached down to grab it, his face turned straight to mine, allowing me to see his eyes much more conspicuously. The play of light and shadow, the way that nature itself reflected in them was the greatest work of art that I had ever seen, perhaps it was due to the fact that I hadn’t seen many people with green eyes, much less with that tonality. of green that Eren had inherited. What beautiful eyes. I thought I had said it to myself, but apparently I had unconsciously let it out in a slight sigh, as Eren raised his head in less than a second, straight at me. His eyes were wide and his face reflected surprise.

Those eyes in which I had been spellbound for long minutes were staring at me, penetrating strongly on mine, as if looking for a sign that his owner had clearly heard what the wind had brought to his ears.

"What? Did you get lost in my incredible eyes? " his humorous words and his wicked smile were what brought me back to reality. They were like an open hand spanking across the face.

My face was decomposed for a moment, eyes open and my mouth ajar, even my hands stopped supporting my head causing me to almost fall to the ground. I tried to compose myself as best I could, fixing my shirt, eliminating the wrinkles that had formed from being with my torso on the uncomfortable wood, and pulling some hair that had fallen over my eyes to one side.

"Yeah, you wish" I threw my body back and stretched out my arm to close the window, but not before giving him a half smile and admiring his eyes for the last time before going back to work.

Now I was in front of those eyes once more, with that memory stabbing a knife in the middle of my heart and mind, but with my body being drawn to them like that hot spring day.

I brought my face close to his, one hand running through his hair while the other roamed his chapped, swollen lips. The moment felt soft, calm, even though the weight on our shoulders was harder and more invasive. His hand on my chin was now caressing my neck lightly, as if he were passing a feather over my jugular, the hand that had been caressing my leg, now had placed on my lower back, stretching the fingers and feeling the greater amount of skin under his as much as possible. We both leaned forward and when our lips met again, time seemed to melt.

This time, there was no fight between our lips, there was no resistance, we just dedicated ourselves to melting into each other along with time. Everything felt delicate, Eren's touch on my back, my fingers on his scalp, his hand on my neck pulling me closer to him. Chest to chest, an almost impossible union for less garments that both of us had on, but still it was enough to feel the beating of the other's heart. No heartbeat was neither too fast nor too slow, they were just in perfect harmony, it was… perfect.

I could feel his lashes brush against mine with every turn of the head I took to sink the kiss, his locks tickling my cheeks, and his tongue, intrusive as it was, was welcome. My senses intensified, causing me to wrap myself in a sea of ​​sensations and little by little the current took me to the deepest waters, feeling how the weight of my body was getting smaller and smaller, as if my body itself made smaller.

I felt vulnerable and it was the same Eren who brought these senses to the surface, the same one who could put them in a bottle, throw them into the sea and lose them in the waves, at the same time that he could bring them back with the simple movement of his hand.

We parted ways to reconnect once more, this time harder and needy. His hands were placed on either side of my waist, pulling me closer to him with more force, connecting our torsos even more and bumping our hips. I groaned when I felt his crotch against mine, I was perfectly positioned on him and every feverish kiss, every movement, made me grind on him. His tongue ran through my mouth as if it were the last time he would do it, it felt abrupt, as if a prayer was taking place, wishing that we would never disconnect from each other. He ran through every part of me, colliding with mine even my teeth, he was desperate and it showed. His teeth took my lower lip between them, biting and tugging slightly, giving me the perfect opportunity to elicit a guttural moan as I felt his cock already erect against my entrance.

He took my mouth back into his, sliding his hands down to the soft flesh of my ass, each hand over the round cheeks, and squeezed, marking his fingers hard over them. He took the opportunity to guide me on his cock back and forth, movements slow but accurate and hard, each grind felt like fire on my center, traveling up my back towards the brain. I was beginning to feel light in the head, my coherence was clouded and the only thing I could think was more, more, more.

At this point I just grunting at every grind he made me do, lifting me slightly to come down again and position myself even closer to his crotch. I bit his upper lip in an attempt to stifle a moan as I felt a wet spot begin to form in the middle of my pants and his dick leaning right in that same spot.

"Don't keep the moans to yourself" he lifted his lips from mine and moved down from my cheek to my neck.

I kept grinding on him involuntarily, no longer with his help, but still feeling his colossal hands squeeze my ass and hold me steady in my movements. He didn't want me to stop and honestly, I didn’t to stop either. The pressure I felt on his dick was too much, even his lips would detach from my skin from time to time, releasing small but notorious grunts, given the pleasure that this simple but filthy action generated to us.

"Fuck, Eren" I moaned as I hit his pelvis once more, this time harder than before. I felt him chuckling as I noticed how my moans began to come out of my vocal chords, with no intention of stopping. The friction felt delicious, we were both getting off with each other without even being in the main event.

My fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his face impossibly closer to my neck. I felt his lips leave a thin wet line on the hollow of my clavicle and sting lightly with his teeth. His hands couldn't stay still, the more friction we generated, the more I grinded on him, the more they moved through my body; they passed over my thighs, my back, the sides of my stomach to my chest.

I expanded my chest on the touch of him, preparing myself for what was to come, letting out a groan as I felt his fingers reach the limits of my nipples. They were a little cold and generated a perfect contrast with the heat that began to emanate from within, starting to make my nipples erect under his fingertips. Took one between his two fingers and the heat that was gradually forming in the tip of my stomach was getting bigger. The need for him not only generated great pleasure on my fibers, but also impatience, Eren was characterized by being a damn teaser when it came to sex.

His fingers eased my poor, swollen nipple and pulled my shirt off my shoulders, leaving only my leather suit like Eren, both now in direct contact with our body heat. The shirt fell to the ground at the same time that his lips were detached from my neck, he dedicated himself to arranging the shirt on the grass while still having me straddling him. The same happened with his jacket and shirt, which had been much closer to us than I had imagined. The three garments made a poor case of cover on the grass, but that was enough for Eren to roll me onto his back and settle on top of me.

Lips against lips, hands running over each other's body, savoring on our fingertips the heat of the skin, each muscle and bone marked, the hair of both getting tangled up in the environment, spread over the fabric in my case or Eren's falling towards my face if not spread over my fingers.

Eren settled to the side, leaving a small space between us, and let his hand run over my stomach, slowly, delicately, roaming around my entire torso until it reached my hips. His hand stopped to explore, feeling the bones outlining the body and the beginnings of the legs. His touch was so soft that he even tickled me. His fingers reached a sensitive area, drawing little giggles against my lips, but Eren's intentions weren’t to make me laugh and they were more than clear. Noticing my giggles climbing, he took the opportunity to reach under my pants, even under my underwear. Now the giggles were transformed into moans and sighs when I felt his finger brush my most needy area.

He was starting to burn, little beads of sweat were forming on the back of my neck and forehead, and he wasn't being fair at all. His finger was just brushing, again, and again, and again through my center, giving me the necessary pleasure to moan in his mouth, but never enough. It wasn't enough and Eren knew it, he was torturing me in the most delicious and infuriating way he knew. I guided my hand to his, undoing the buttons on the stained pants, now having more space and comfort, and placed it over his, applying just enough pressure for him to realize how needy I was.

And it worked. Eren heeded my silent prayer and inserted a finger, coming into contact with my wet walls. I moaned as I felt his finger slide slowly inside, his simple finger never fails to make me see stars and this case was no different. It's pumping slowly, too slowly, too much. This was no time for delicacies. The tip brushed the right places, driving the heat in my stomach to expand more, more and more.

"Eren" I growled hoping that my pathetic voice carried enough prayer to give me what I needed.

Eren inserted another finger, twisting it and applying more pressure to my sore spot. I felt like my body was becoming lighter as the pleasure was taking possession. Each twist, each impulse, each pressure was like an electric shock on my spine that ran through the veins and spread throughout the body, until there was no space left untouched. My back arched as I felt both fingers brush against my sweet spot, making Eren giggle over my ear.

"How do my fingers feel inside?" he whispered dangerously into my ear, biting the lobe and generating a new electrical reaction over me.

It was impossible for me to speak, the only thing that came out of my mouth were moans after moans. My free hand went to Eren's neck, I pulled him as close as I could to my face. My gaze was cloudy and narrowed, it was difficult to maintain control. His eyes were not on mine, rather they were on my crotch, seeing how his fingers disappeared without difficulty inside me and came out again and again, wetting them in the process. I tried to draw him to my lips to avoid giving an answer to his question, which had entered one ear and left the other. His fingers wreaked havoc inside me and every time I tried to open my mouth to answer, a new moan came out, making me impossible every second. I was sure that if this continued, I would end up forgetting the question.

"Say it or I'll stop and I'll leave you naked for others to find you" his voice had deepened, and being so close to my ear it only generated more vibrations under my spine.

My head was spinning, trying to formulate an answer before stammering it. It was difficult considering that his fingers had picked up the pace, moving in and out of my hole with a steady rhythm and able to propel my body along with them, and his breath over my ear and neck.

"It - ah - it feels good" it really felt good, I hadn't felt this good in months.

My answer made him smile, apart from twisting his fingers once more before applying pressure to my weak point. I couldn't tell if what came out of my mouth was a moan or a scream, or perhaps a guttural groan, but what I was sure was the fact I was close, too close, to cum. I felt like that heat at the tip of my stomach expanded more, almost without having more space in my body to expand. I was close, my legs twisting on the clothing, spreading it and disarming the covering, and just as I was about to feel the long-awaited launch, it stopped. The damned bastard had stopped.

My eyes went wide at the desperation in my body to break free. Internally I was screaming, I was angry but the trembling of my legs and my arms didn't let me do much. He wanted to curse him, ask him a thousand and a few things, demand an explanation of why in his right mind, if he still had one, it occurred him to stop. Before I could utter a word, Eren straightened up and placed his hands on my hips, exactly above the limits of my pants, squeezing them firmly but gently. I looked at him expecting him to do something, but when he didn't move after a few seconds, I looked up at his. He was looking directly at me, and he was the one waiting for a signal to continue.

I swallowed hard, placed my hands over his and guided them down, raising my butt just enough that we could remove the annoying garment. In our rush and clouded heads, we didn't realize that the shoes were still on, the pants got stuck, and we only realized our mistake when we couldn't get it down after multiple fussing. We turn our gazes to the pants, then to us. We started laughing, it was like reliving our first time, clumsy, inexperienced, but at the same time funny and careful.

Eren shed my shoes, trying to caress my legs every time the worn leather slipped off me. From so much being using them for two days in a row, using them not only for walking and treating patients, but also for running where they shouldn't be used, the leather had stuck to my legs, marking them and leaving blisters and bruises from the knees to the toes. Eren ran his hands over each one, being extra careful when he came across a blister or where the flesh was hot red. He stroked each mark that had formed on the skin, running down to his ankles, lifted my right leg over his shoulder, and began to kiss those same marks around my foot. The kisses were soft, as if it were the skin of a newborn baby, his strong but secure hand held the inside of my leg and massaged the area, which I had not realized how tense and beaten it was until I stared at the scene Eren was putting on.

Between that tour inspecting the discomfort in my leg, my eyes were at the mercy of Eren's, feverish and dark. My gaze, my half-parted lips and my ragged breathing was what Eren needed to place my other leg on his other shoulder and massage both equally, giving the same treatment that he gave to the right leg to the left. Now with half my body suspended in the air, I couldn't help but think about the notorious wet spot that surely had left seconds behind thanks to the excitement. I could feel it stick right in the middle of my crotch.

Without taking his eyes off mine, his fingers slowly descended to the strap of my underwear and slowly slid it over my legs until they reached my ankles. I pulled my legs away from his shoulders and pulled them together so he could peel off the fine fabric and discard it somewhere on the grass. My heart was beating uncontrollably in my chest, like I was about to shoot out. After Eren got rid of that miserable garment, I reconnected his lips to mine, stretching and spreading my legs so I could position myself between them. The kiss was short but effective, pulling me out of any thoughts that might have appeared without permission.

I felt Eren's hand on my leg, cupping below the knee and going palm down toward my ankle. His lips were now kissing my sternum, pressing gently on my rib cage. He looked at me, trying to find ... any reaction? Doubt? But there were none. I let my head fall back, letting my hand run through his hair as he roamed my chest and stretched my legs even more with his hands. Every now and then he bit my light skin with his teeth, generating gasps and grunts from me; Reactions that went straight to his cock, still covered and leaning against my core.

I raised my hips to connect with his dick, receiving a gasp from him as a groan escaped me as I felt him hard and throbbing against me. I hadn’t realized that Eren was just as excited as me, his kisses made thinking much more complicated, each pressure from his mouth made the knot in my lower stomach become more present. He went down, leaving a path of kisses for each part of ​​my skin, until he reached my crotch and reached back to see how his work was reflecting in me.

He brought his face in front of where I needed it most and without being able to say anything to him, not even asking what I wanted, he leaned forward; I could feel how his eyes were fixed on me, his gaze penetrating and even if I wasn’t looking at him, I knew that he was observing every reaction, involuntary or not, on my face and on my body. He was so close that I could feel his breath on me, I waited patiently to feel his mouth on that area, but my mouth opened wide when I noticed that his tongue had gone directly to my thigh, giving it a long and wide lick against my fold.

He knew what he was doing, he knew it very well, and he knew he wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted. Between licks, he gave himself the opportunity to bite the inside of my thigh, making me moan and, according to what he had told me once, were sweet and addictive.

"Eren-" my voice was half out when I felt his tongue pass my core.

He gave a long lick, not once but twice. My hand settled on the back of his head, trying to draw him closer to me. My fingers applied too much force just as my legs involuntarily closed over his head, crushing it against my thighs. He felt warm and soft, softer than his fingers, but at the same time it wasn't enough. It was not a virtue of me to be patient and knowing him, I knew that he would torture me and tease me until I was left as a wet and needy bundle, begging for a release. I was writhing and shaking, my thighs crushing his head more and more with each passage of his tongue as the arousal spread over my stomach.

He raised his hand to my chest, pinning me to the floor as he left cat licks on my crotch, the other instead going to his underwear, running it down far enough to remove his dick. In my damn delusion, he was preparing me to feel his fingers enter my wet hole again, but Eren had other plans. He grabbed the back of my thighs and wrapped them around his waist, positioning himself in between and letting his cock rest between my stomach. He moved his hips forward, giving him all the pleasure against my skin. I looked at him, my lips apart, releasing long sighs, waiting for him to move a little more or turn his attention back to me, avoiding giving his sweet toss a second time.

He guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance, trying to insert it without a little preparation before. Okay, I was wet, but the situation was getting unfair at any moment. Not only unfair, but also too fast and violent. He lunged in, making me scream at such intrusion, instead he groaning as he slid his cock through my walls.

"Fuck" he growled as he placed himself completely inside me.

After weeks, months, without any interaction, or anything like it, the feeling was overwhelming. My muscles flexed at his grip, fluttering around his throbbing, venous cock, his raspy, low voice continuing to send tingles around my spine. I didn't have time to fully adjust to him, moving quickly on top of me, thrusting in and out at a fast pace, hitting the areas most in need within me. It was pleasant, but it hurt, and discomfort outweighed pleasure.

"Wait, just-wait a minute" I tried to sound straight but his shoves clouded my mind, at the same time that they tensed my body, immobilizing me.

I brought a hand to his chest, trying to stop him, but I only made his thrusts go deeper, more intense from him.

"I said wait a fucking minute!"

I reached forward, now both of us face to face, without any bond between our bodies. My hands formed into fists and went straight to his shoulders, pushing him backwards, staying within the limits of our clothes. Without waiting a second, I straddled him, taking his cock right under my entrance. I felt it throbbing, spasming, the heat that emanated from my crotch was enough for him to growl through his teeth. I guided my hand to where our hips met, lifting a little to reach his cock without complications. I could feel every one of his prominent veins on the palm of my hand, it was radiating heat and starting to leak pre-cum from the tip. I ran my thumb through his veins, going from the base to the tip torturously slow. Pumping his cock firmly, examining his reactions; I felt like my ego was inflated when I saw him with his lips parted, moaning on my hand, it was like having him at my complete mercy. To be honest, seeing him in that state, needy, slowly breaking apart beneath me, was the boost I needed to completely destroy him, as he had broken me. I felt powerful and all I needed was to get his dirty cock in my hand and give him a hand job to have him like a wet stray dog.

But ... as I said before, patience was not my virtue, so just as quickly I had started pumping him, I quickly carried him towards my core, sliding his cock back inside, moaning down my throat as I did so. The way his body trembled at the feel of my walls contracting was delicious.

"Fuck you're so tight," he moaned with his jaw open.

Now it was me who created the rhythm, each thrust I took increased the speed slightly. I stood on his shoulders, moving my palms between his collarbone and his neck, I didn't know what to do with them and I couldn't keep them still. The excitement was building very well and my body was responding on its own. Eren placed one hand on my hip, helping me maintain my thrusts, while the other positioned himself in the crook of my neck, bringing my forehead against his.

"You like this, uh? Do you like to be fuckingthe damn traitor of the country?"

I did nothing but moan at such a vulgar comment, but worst of all, they had reached my crotch; my walls had twisted when I heard him so close to me. My voice had caught in my throat, suffocating me, nothing else came out of my mouth but combinations between moans and grunts. Eren seemed to like it as he began to move more vigorously, he sheathed himself completely inside me, opening his mouth to moan under his breath as he bottoms out.

"You feel so good baby, so so good, my good little baby"

I was tighter than other times, maybe the situation, maybe the position, but fuck the reason, it felt so, so good. I buried my face in the hollow of his shoulder to keep my moans from coming out more prominent, the way his cock settled inside me and brushed every wall virtuously made my body shudder and my eyes go blank. A thrust that touched my sore spot and pulled me closer to Eren at the way he thrust, made me bite his shoulder, hard and deep.

Eren let out a groan as he felt his skin break open and begin to bleed, I could feel the taste of iron on my mouth. It hadn't been my intention to hurt him, but I couldn't control my strength or the way my hips circled as the thrusts picked up speed. 

He reached out his hand to grab my hair and bend my neck back, exposing my face to him.

"Shit, that's it baby, mount that cock, I know you like it" the way our hips moved up and down and back and forth in a fiery way until they reached the flush of butt made me shudder. The way he was buried in me seemed like he was trying to reach even deeper, trying to reach my stomach; and it was right there where I felt it most. "I know you love it, you always loved it"

Every movement of him in and out was majestic, it was the best I had felt in months, even better than our previous times. His movements grew steadier, faster, and harder. I felt my body tense up completely, I arched my back against him and kept moving my hips faster, having more friction to work with as I felt the orgasm reach me.

“Are you gonna cum? I can feel your walls tightening"

I nodded my head repeatedly, unable to formulate a word. Eren captured my mouth with his, moving us both at a speed I would never have imagined, our skin colliding over and over and over. The only thing around us was the rapid slapping of skin against skin, the dirty sound of my hole taking him so well, squeezing him more and more.

A strong thrust was what I needed to collapse. I screamed, not caring if anyone was near to listen. Eren's name slipped from my lips repeatedly, as if I was saying a prayer and he alone was my salvation. My back arched again, my hands went to his hair, tousling it and letting brown strands fall over his forehead. My body felt light, much lighter, as if the stress had been released along with the orgasm. I creamed on Eren's cock and his thighs, our legs were wet and my spasms moved any liquid in different directions over our bodies.

In my bliss I hadn’t realized that Eren had never stopped moving, the difference was he’s now going in and out more slowly, much more slowly than we had started.

While we were going slow, I was completely sensitive, and the more thrusts Eren made, the overstimulation took my body by leaps and bounds. No longer moans came from my mouth, but small and soft whines every time he buried himself inside me.

"I love you" his voice came out as a sigh, even lower than that, but loud enough for me to hear.

He froze me a second time, it was already becoming a bad habit on his part. His words were like a dagger to the heart, one that stabbed me over and over and over again. I felt my chest begin to ache, but our movements never stopped. Eren kept pounding against me, like he wanted to accompany his movements with his "sweet" words. My nails dug into his shoulders, trying to dissipate the emotional pain from my chest to the physical pain above him.

"Shut up" I tried to speak still with my head turning thousands of times, avoiding letting out a moan.

His cock kept pounding in just the right places, the rhythm our bodies kept was too sweet, my still erect nipples brushing against his chest, generating more friction than he wanted. His lips still on my neck, each thrust was an open kiss on the jugular.

"I love you" again. There were those filthy words again, words that I needed to have been told months ago, even weeks just as we were returning from Marley. I didn't need them when we were in the middle of a heated sex session in the middle of the woods.

"Stop lying" I bit my lower lip as I felt my walls begin to contract.

We weren't moving at the speed I wanted and that was making me hysterical. I tried to move at my own pace, to move my hips over his pelvis and have the friction that I badly needed to cum, but Eren stopped me. He had a strong grip on my hip and no matter how many inches I moved, he would bring me back to the original position, torturing me with his slow step. His lips moved up to my cheek, giving me a small kiss before moving again and pushing me against him, both of them being chest to chest.

Another kiss, and another, and another. Each one to the rhythm of our tapping.

"I'm not lying" Eren moaned into my ear, reaching for my hair and pulling it back. His mouth now close to mine, a few millimeters closer, reaching out to kiss me.

"SHUT UP! ... please ... shut up" I pulled him away from me, throwing him to the floor, now I was on top of him.

His face twisted as he hit the ground and he closed his eyes due to the pain on his back. My hands were on either side of his head, giving me more room to settle in and examine his face perfectly. A small layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and the root of his scalp, little hickeys he had left behind, which were already fading, and his hair was already completely matted; What was once a bun, now it barely held a few strands, leaving the vast majority of the hair down and spilling over the clothes.

His eyes widened again when I placed my hands on his cheeks. His gaze was the same as always, perhaps he was showing a little sadness, or perhaps fatigue.

Please, just ... don’t

"…okay"

I began to move my hips again in a slow, gentle circular motion, trying to rebuild the mood. We maintained eye contact, neither of us wanted to stop looking at the other, even though our eyes narrowed for the little pleasure. My mouth parted as I started to increase my speed, but still going slowly, without having any hint of speed or exasperation in my movements. It was sensual, tender… desperate. His cock went in and out without difficulty, feeling it on every wall, noticing how it began to twist and get bigger as my walls tightened.

My hands didn't hold me for long, ending up collapsing on his chest. Eren never took his hands off my hips, now they helped me keep up, occasionally massaging the softness of my butt cheeks. I moaned as I felt the tip of his cock reach my deepest spot repeatedly.

One of his hands went straight to the back of my neck and squeezed, drawing me to him and capturing my mouth. His thrusts were increasing in speed and hardness, the rhythm already lost and our kisses sloppies and disheveled.

“Fuck-I’ m…”I spoke between kisses, unable to articulate words between his thrusts and his lips didn’t detach from mine. I wasn't going to last long, I knew it. Eren groaned at hearing my shaky voice and his breathing became faster.

"I know, cum again baby, cum on this cock" our hips moved in unison at a rhythm impossible to explain, if there was a rhythm to begin with. We were going fast, but at the same time slow, we tried to impact our weak spots with each other. We avoided separating, even grew closer, as if we were about to merge. Eren was holding me against his chest as close as possible.

The knot in my stomach, that familiar feeling, accumulated and began to expand in a gigantic way, my eyes narrowed but able to see the height of Eren in his eyes, as well as mine reflected in them. "Please, cum with me"

It was all I needed. My walls contracted and fluids began to flow out of my core, soaking us both and leaving a mess not only on our bodies, but also on our clothes. I moan his name in that moment of ecstasy, wasted, tired and satisfied. Eren, still at his prayer, followed me shortly after, shooting in and his heat filling me completely. His body tensed for a few moments beneath me, his hands circling my back and head as he continued to spread his cum inside me.

I felt him shooting each load, filling me up really well. I kept contracting, still gasping for air and shaking, but neither of us had any intention of separating, much less Eren of coming out. After weeks of languishing a bit of peace, as much as the situation wasn’t the right one, we had both found it. I rested my cheek on his chest, listening to his racing heart and allowing his fingers to wrap around my hair.

We were calm, only our breaths were heard around and our hearts trying to return to their normal rhythm. I relaxed when I felt his hands caress me in the same way that he had caressed me in our previous times, it was that kind of caress that allowed you to stay all the time in the world in the arms of your loved one. They were those caresses that I had longed to receive, the same ones that I was afraid of being used against me and confusing me more than I already was.

Eren gave me a light kiss on the temple, massaging my lower back and still keeping me close to him. I let him cradle me to his chest for a while longer, realizing that the moment we changed, we would be back on our own sides, ready to continue fighting for what we believed was fair.

This time, only this time, I would let myself be carried away, even to the point of being unconscious in his arms and succumbing to a much needed sleep.

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[slafkovskys]

the way you do / t. emberson

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from fireproof by one direction

warning(s): swear words, mentions of a concussion, jealousy, accusations of cheating, also written in a no covid world :)

word count: 5.8k

-

you cheer along with only a portion of the crowd as the goal horn sounds, signaling what you knew was the first and last point of the night for wisconsin. while david gets to work on updating the instagram account from his spot beside you, your fingers rapidly type out a tweet to send out that would update the people who were following along there.

badgers are on the board thanks to tyler inamoto! the score is 3-1 arizona state with 0:10 left in the third period

“what are you doing after this?” david asks, looking back out onto the ice while you start a new tweet, just in case something were to happen in the next ten seconds. “i’m sure we can find some bar to sneak into. are you up for it?”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, focusing on the opposing team’s player as he takes the puck and shoots down the ice, attempting to beat the buzzer. you frown when the horn sounds, signaling the end of the game and a win for arizona, which you quickly update on. “it’s my turn to do the interviews and i don’t know how long that’s gonna take. i always have to chase someone down and i also said that i would help cole with his biology, but i think that’s going to be a plane ride home priority.”

“well, at least they’re all going to be in the same place for at least the next twelve hours or so. it shouldn’t be that hard to find who you want,” david stands up and you follow suit, making sure that you have your phone in your back pocket before following him towards the locker room. “besides, they like you more than they like me. you’ve got that midwestern charm and i’ve got an annoying southern accent.”

“your accent is not annoying. tell me who told you that it was and i will gladly humble them,” you look at the younger boy who smiles.

it was no secret that the boys were more acquainted with you rather than david as you had two years on him. while you were a senior, david was only a sophomore starting out with the team. this was your third year with them and you had taken him under your wing because he was going to be taking over for you next year when you were gone.

you make your way through the arena, taking a route that was closed off to the general public to make it back to the locker room to catch the boys before they got caught up in granato’s post-game speech.

“who am i talking to tonight?” you mumble to yourself as you tug at your bottom lip. you look up at david who was leaning against the wall across from you, “do you remember who i talked to last week? don’t look at me like that. so much has happened between now and then…”

“trouble in paradise?” he’s quick to joke, but the look that you send him causes the smile to drop from his face. his eyes widen, “please tell me-”

“we haven’t broken up, if that’s what you were going to say,” you look back down at your computer screen and shrug, “it’s just- he’s been acting weird since we landed. he’s so touchy and, yeah, we’ve had our moments. hell, we were long distance for two years, but this is- it’s just weird.”

“i mean, i’ve never been in a serious relationship, but you definitely need to talk to him. you’ve been together too long to let it fizzle out. you’re the only couple that i can tolerate,” he rolls his eyes and you send him a grin. “it’s true. you and ty are, like, royalty at wisconsin. i’m pretty sure that you’re the couple that has been together the longest.”

“maybe second longest. i met a girl last year who had been with her boyfriend for six years and we’ve only been together for five, so they have us beat,” you leave out the fact that both of them graduated last summer.

the boys trickle back quietly. you give them a moment to get settled before taking a deep breath and walking towards the entrance. you peek your head in and granato spots you immediately, waving you inside. “you’ve been spared for two minutes, boys. listen to the lady and don’t give her a hard time.”

you send him a nod in thanks before looking out over the room. you had all of their attention except for one and it was the person who you cared the most for. you send a soft smile as your eyes scan the room, “i don’t love any of you any less. you played a great game boys and you’re going to kill it tomorrow.”

“did you get any more stickers?” owen asks and you turn to look at him.

“i did, actually, but you can blame your captain for stealing them all before i could distribute them,” you look back at ty who looks at you with a cold look. you swallow the lump in your throat and quickly look towards the other ty who speaks up.

“do you think you could find those dinosaur ones again? those were badass.”

“i still have mine on my water bottle!”

“i missed the dinosaur pack.”

“that’s why you have to score, mike.”

yes, you were aware of how childish the stickers were. you used them as an incentive so that when they came to talk to you, they got to pick a sticker. the boys enjoyed them and even stuck them on their equipment sometimes when they could get away with it.  

“okay, back on track,” you look down at your computer. you tap your nails on the keypad before clicking your tongue, “i need to see tyler, roman, and brock’s brother-”

“hey!” cole shouts from beside you while your joke provokes some of the boys to laugh.

“just keeping you humble, caufield,” you wink and he rolls his eyes, sinking back into his stall. you shake your head, “i’m not going to make you talk to me tonight because honestly, i’m drained and i know all of you are too. but please do come find me during breakfast tomorrow because i do have deadlines that i have to meet and that’s stretching it far enough. if you decide that you want to be mean and not come, i will be even meaner and snitch and you can find yourself being worked overtime in practice. are we clear, gentlemen?”

“yes ma’am!”

“thank you and good night,” you wave your hand around as you exit the room, shaking your head at the claps that followed you out. you and david gather your things and head toward the bus, knowing very well that it would be a while before the boys would begin to file out. you flop down in your seat and sigh, “one down, one to go.”

even though it wasn’t often, you loved when you got the opportunity to go on road trips. you usually got to go on the ones that were just bus trips, but it was a rare occasion when you got to go on trips that had to be made by plane. once or twice during the season, however, you got to pick a trip that you wanted to come on and this year you had picked arizona. before ty had gotten drafted, you had never been nor had you ever really wanted to go to the state. after coming to see ty during his first development camp, you had pretty much fallen in love with it and had taken every opportunity to come and visit since.

“your future home,” david chuckles and you roll your eyes. “what? do you know something that i don’t?”

“there’s a lot of things that i can’t talk about, david and those that pertain to my boyfriend’s future career are ones that are at the top of the list. you aren’t getting any insider news from me, buddy,” you point an accusatory finger and he holds his hands up in surrender.  

“you could be my anonymous source?” he suggests, smirking when you flip him off.

it’s relatively quiet for the next half hour until the doors of the bus open and the boys start stumbling on. you close your laptop and leave it on the empty seat that ty usually occupied and stand up, pushing your way to the front. brock pats your head as he passes and you shove an elbow into his side, “dick.”

“he’s in a mood, princess. tread lightly.”

his warning makes you raise an eyebrow. you don’t have time to ask what he meant before ty rounds the corner. shay moves to the side to let you step off of the bus and you send him a grin. you meet ty in the middle, wrapping your arms around his neck, “i‘m proud of you.”

“are you?” he spits. his hands stay glued to his sides and you pull away, dropping your own. “cole’s on his way. wouldn’t you rather see him instead?”

“what are you talking about?”

“you seem to be real fucking close these days. you’re with him more than you’re with me, so is it wrong for me to just assume that you’re fucking him too?” your mouth gapes at his words.

“are you accusing me of cheating on you?” you lower your voice, very aware of his teammates that could definitely hear your conversation. he shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. “i know how you get after losses, but for you to go as far as to accuse me of cheating on you with a member of your team-”

“it’s fucking obvious, y/n. you’re so flirty with each other, sitting next to each other on the plane, and that shit in the locker room. i’m not oblivious.”

“fuck you, dude. i have given up so much for you and the fact that you can stand there and accuse me of doing that to you after everything that we’ve been through over the last five years, makes me wonder if it was even worth it.” you turn on your heel and march towards the bus, leaving him standing there looking shocked. you make your way up the stairs and the bus goes quiet as they stare at you, obviously having heard what happened outside. you swallow, “i’m sorry about that.”

you make your way back to your seat and grab your computer, propping your feet on the empty seat and shrinking against the window. the tears threaten to spill out from your eyes, but you don’t let them. once everyone is accounted for, the bus pulls away from the arena and heads for the hotel.

you run your fingers against your temples, trying to soothe the headache that had developed in the last five minutes. you could feel eyes on you and you look up to find jack sitting in the row of seats beside you. he opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, “please don’t.”

you grab your phone and quickly go to your messages, finding david’s contact and shooting your fingers across the screen quickly:

do you still feel like going out??

we have curfew

and after what just happened it doesn’t seem like a good idea

curfew is midnight and it’s not even ten yet. we’ll have a couple hours and after what just happened, going out seems like a great idea

are you in or not? because i’m going even if i have to go alone

let me go to my room first and i’ll meet you in the lobby

-

when you woke up the next morning, you were still tired. you had barely slept and the last thing you remembered before you were able to slip into unconsciousness was the sun slowly starting to peek through the window of your hotel room.

it took a few seconds for it to register that someone was pounding on your door. with a grunt, you throw the sheets away from your body and stumble towards the door. you look out of the peephole and your stomach sinks at who is standing on the other side. you undo the deadbolt and pull it open, “you should not be here.”

“don’t worry, he’s the one who sent me here. he also sent this and,” he pulls out a bouquet from behind his back, “these.”

“that’s not going to make me forgive him,” you shake your head and accept the flowers and the coffee cup from cole anyway, gesturing for him to come inside.

“believe me, we all told him that,” cole takes a seat on the spare bed and you look at him with a confused gaze. he raises an eyebrow, “y/n, you have the entire hockey team behind you. we’ve been giving him hell all night. dom even bunked with brock and jack in protest. also, i’m pretty sure that coach found out and brought him back down to earth, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“did he-” you can’t even say it.

“no, he didn’t lose the c, but coach was very adamant that what happened was not captain behavior and that he’s on very thin ice,” he pauses for a minute and then grins, “ha, thin ice.”

you shake your head and lean against the desk in the corner of the room, “that’s good then.”

“he accused you of cheating on him and you’re worried about his letter status?”

“you don’t understand, cole,” he looks at you in a way that says ‘well, help me understand.’ you sigh, “we’ve been together since we were sixteen and seventeen years old. we’ve known each other even longer. i’ve watched him work his ass off and sacrifice so much to get where he is. the thought of him losing that over him saying some dumbass thing because he was pissed off breaks my heart in more ways than one. do i think that he’s an absolute asshole right now? absolutely. do i want to look at him? not really. but i still love him, cole. and i always will.”

he looks at you for a second before he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, “really tugged on the heartstrings there, y/n. love is a crazy thing.”

“indeed it is. now get out of my room. i need to get ready for the day and i’m slightly hungover and hotel breakfast food sounds amazing right now,” you follow him towards the door.

“oh and just so we’re clear,” he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he faces you, “i made it very clear that you are way too old for me.”

you shove his shoulder, “considering that he’s the only exception for dating someone younger than me, you are way too young for me, cole caufield.”

“glad that we have an understanding,” he holds up his hand and you smack yours against it. with a grin, he makes his way towards the elevator and you close the door behind him.

you take your time getting ready, trying to hide the fact that you were recovering from a little too much alcohol you had practically inhaled at some bar downtown the night before that you couldn’t even remember the name of. you make sure all of your things are gathered and together because you knew that you wouldn’t want to do it when you returned.

you grab the things that you would need for the game and head downstairs. you walk into the conference room that had been set aside for the team and immediately head to grab your food. once your plate was piled high, you turn to find an empty and immediately your eyes lock with his. just by looking at him, you can tell that he hadn’t slept and even if he did, it wasn’t much.

your attention is pulled away from him by a shout of your name. owen is waving you over and shay is pointing at an empty seat, “we called dibs on you this morning.”

“too soon, lindy,” robbie shakes his head as you take the seat between owen and dylan. he looks at you concerned, “you good?”

“don’t worry about me boys. you have a game to win today and that’s what you should be focused on,” you try and distract them but none of them are buying what you’re trying to sell. you twist the cap off your water and take a sip before grabbing your fork, “seriously boys, i appreciate your concern, but i’m okay. i promise.”

“if you want us to beat him up for you, just say the word,” dylan offers and the table agrees. you raise an eyebrow, “we discussed it last night and we also have first dibs on defending your honor if you asked us to.”

“his roommates are next in line,” ryder points his fork at you and you smile.

“i’m glad to know that you would beat up your captain for me, boys.”

“he may be captain, but no one disrespects our y/n and gets away with it. who would give us stickers then?”

“we can’t have anything because of you, shay. she’s more than just the damn stickers.”

three o’clock comes quick and before you know it, you’re making your way down the tunnel to cheer for them as they come out, just as you always did. you clap as they line up in front of you. you avoid looking at him until you feel a tap on your ankle. you look down just in time to see a hockey stick being pulled away. you look up to find its owner staring right back at you, apologetically.

he nods his head, “i love you.”

“i love you too, twenty-one. don’t do anything stupid,” you cross your arms over your chest and give him your best ‘i’m not joking look.’ it was part of the routine that you two had developed over the last couple of years, and even though there was still some obvious tension between the two of you that had yet to be resolved, he hadn’t missed his chance to continue it.

he chuckles right as the announcer booms to the crowd to welcome them to the ice, “no promises.”

you watch as they file out, the cheers for them were not as loud as they were when you were on home ice, but you made sure to scream as loud as always. you and david make quick work of getting to your seats and he wasted no time in sending you a look, “are you-”

“we haven’t talked yet, no. we probably won’t even have time until we’re back home, but just because he’s being an asshole doesn’t mean i love him any less,” you defend yourself and he hums, looking out onto the ice.

when they get in position for puck drop, an uneasy feeling develops in your stomach. you try not to think about it as the puck hits the ice and the game begins, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

it was some freshman lineman known for being a menace. he’d been practically on top of ty every time that he got on the ice, shoving him when he didn’t have the puck, almost tripping him once, and of course, the refs were in their own little worlds and hadn’t called a penalty for anything.

eight minutes into the game was when it happened and when it happened, it happened quickly. you barely had time to blink before their gloves were off and their hands were tangled in each other’s jerseys. you stand up, watching as your boyfriend loses the upper hand quickly. in a matter of seconds, his helmet is somehow knocked off and he’s hitting the ice and-

he’s not moving.

“get the fuck up ty,” your hand covers your mouth as the trainers rush out onto the ice after they pull the guy off of him. you can see on the screen that he’s smirking as he’s led off the ice and down their tunnel. david grabs onto your arm as you stumble, “please get up baby.”

“y/n,” he says, but you don’t respond.

you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when ty moves, taking a minute before he gets up with a lot of help from the trainers. you watch as he’s led off the ice and you swallow at the blood on his jersey. you turn towards david, “i have to-”

“go, babe. i can cover this. go check on him,” that was all that you needed before you scoot out of your row and quickly make your way down the stairs.

you wind up outside the locker room where you're stopped by a security guard. you hold up your badge that showed that you had permission to be there, but he gave you a disapproving look as he shakes his head. you pull out your phone, but anna walks out just in time, “anna!”

“i was just coming to get you,” she sighs, glaring at the security guard as he finally lets you pass. she wraps a hand around your arm as she leads you back to the room, “we’re pretty sure he has a minor concussion at least. paul’s giving him a check-up now and he’s going to decide what to do from there.”

“has he said anything?” you ask, mind running wild as it thinks of the worst.

“the only thing he asked for, even when he came to, was he wanted to see his wife. i told him that you weren’t married, but he wouldn’t hear it. it was just ‘my wife, my wife, my wife’ and that’s why i was coming to get you. he said if he has to go to the hospital or anything, he’s not going if you’re not there with him,” she says and you take a deep breath. she squeezes your arm as you stop outside of the closed door, “just don’t be too loud. he’s very sensitive to light and noise right now.”

“of course,” you nod and she opens the door. the lights were dimmed just a little, but you still easily spot him in the middle of the bed. paul stands beside him, checking on him while he sits up. he pulls away from paul’s hands and moves to get up, but you quickly get to his side, placing your hand on his shoulder and grabbing his hand, “don’t move, ty. let him do what he needs to do.”

“baby,” he whimpers and you squeeze his hand, pulling it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the skin. throughout the entire process, he doesn’t let go. he answers what he’s asked and when paul moves away, he pulls you close, “baby.”

“i know. i’m sorry,” you wrap your arm around his neck and press a soft kiss to the side of his head when he tucks his face into your neck.

“the good news is that i don’t think that you need to go to the emergency room,” paul announces, leaning against a table backed against the wall. he looks at the two of you, “but i don’t feel comfortable sending you back out there. you’ve got a minor concussion and if they aren’t treated right, they can go bad quick.”

“i know,” he says, squeezing your hip.

“so, what do we need to do?” you ask.

“i’m gonna see if i can get the bus to drop you guys back off at the hotel. he needs rest right now and it’ll be hard to get that in this environment,” he shakes his head, “who are you rooming with, ty?”

he winces at the sound of a muffled goal horn and you answer for him, “mersch.”

“if i give you a list of what to do, do you think that you can watch over him?”

“of course,” you nod and ty shifts.

“great. i know that he’s not supposed to be in your room after certain hours, but i think that coach will agree with me that in these circumstances, it’s necessary,” he says and you hum.

after he tells you the basics and makes sure that you have his phone number if you need something, you pull away from ty, “i’m gonna go and grab you some clothes, okay? i know you don’t want to be in that on the bus.”

“please don’t go,” he pleads, holding onto your hand as you go to step away. “you’re gonna leave me because of what i said.”

you look at paul briefly who looks concerned. at least there was someone who was out of the loop.

you shake your head and rub at his cheek, “no, baby. i’m coming back i promise. i’m just gonna go get your clothes from the locker room that’s right across the hall.”

“i’ll come with you,” he insists, moving to stand up.

both you and paul are quick to push him back down as gently as possible. paul pats his chest, “you can stay here with me big guy. i still have a couple of questions for you.”

hesitantly, he lets your hand go as you promise him once more that you were coming back. you make your way across the hall and find his stall, digging through his things to find some clothes for him that were not his suit.

once you find some sweats and a hoodie, you turn on your heel just as the boys start to file in. jack is the first to speak up, “is he okay?”

“minor concussion and as of right now, he doesn’t need to go to the emergency room, but paul’s pulling him for the game. i think we’re getting sent to the hotel where he’s going to be on mandatory rest until he gets checked on again before we leave tomorrow. so, please, i love you all so much and he does too, but just let him sleep. we don’t want this to turn into something major,” you give them all pleading eyes and they all nod.

you walk back across the hall to find coach talking with paul and ty laying back on the bed. instantly, he reaches out for you. granato looks at you, “you’re going to make sure he’s okay?”

“i’m going to try my best,” you assure him and he nods.

“i trust you a hell of a lot more than i trust mersch when it comes to these types of things,” he looks over to ty and pats his leg, “the bus is taking you two back to the hotel where you’re going to rest, got it?”

“yes sir,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

granato and paul leave the room as ty gets dressed. he does need some assistance and when he’s finally out of his gear, he sighs, “i never realized how extensive all of that was.”

“tell me about it,” you mumble. you look at him, “are you ready? do you think that you can get to the bus?”

“if you’ll go slow. you always walk so fast,” he complains and you grin. he throws an arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his waist. you walk out of the door and he pauses, looking into the locker room, “can i-”

“you’ve probably got a minute or two before they have to go back,” you say and he nods. with help from you, he limps over to the doorway and the room goes quiet.

“boys,” he says, standing in front of you, but reaching out behind him for your hand. you take it and squeeze, “what’s the score?”

“we’re leading with one,” the other ty says and he nods. “you good, cap?”

“minor concussion, nothing i can’t handle. plus, i’ve got a good babysitter for tonight,” he turns to look at you with a grin and you send a small smile back. “win it, boys. don’t worry about me, just win.”

“tough speech, eh?” dom calls and some of the boys chuckle.

“did you miss the part about the concussion?” ty asks and dom rolls his eyes. “love you boys.”

there’s an echo of his admission before you finally began the trek to the bus. you take up a row in the middle, ty taking the seat by the window and resting his head on your shoulder. you trace the veins on his hand as the bus takes you back to the hotel, the entire trip spent in silence.

once you get him inside your hotel room, he wastes no time crawling into bed. he looks at you hopefully, “will you lay with me?”

“let me get out of these jeans,” you find a pair of shorts and a too-big t-shirt that belonged to him at some point before you slip in beside him.

he presses himself to your chest and you card your fingers through his hair, “i’m sorry about what i said, y/n.”

“not now, ty. you need to rest.”

he sighs, but he doesn’t argue. it wasn’t long before his breathing evens out and he goes limp against you, leaving you to your thoughts.

-

“rise and shine,” you mumble, poking at his cheek. he groans, curling his fingers in the fabric of your t-shirt as he shakes his head. “baby, you have to get up every few hours. aren’t you hungry?”

“do you have food?” he asks, not opening his eyes.

“i can order some, but you have to tell me what you want. i can’t read your mind,” he rolls over then, stretching his arms out over his head. “how do you feel?”

“my head hurts and my body’s sore,” he says. “i didn’t break anything, did i?”

“do you think that you did?” you raise your eyebrows, ready to reach for your phone to call paul.

“no, no, i just- i remember hitting the ice and not much else after. i remember when i came to that anna was standing over me and i wanted you, but you weren’t there. i was looking for you in the stands, but i couldn’t find you. i- i thought that you were gone.”

“i was there ty. they just moved our seats tonight because someone had those already. i’m not leaving, i would never leave,” you assure him, running your hand along his cheek. “we don’t need to talk about this right now. you need to eat and rest-”

“i want to talk about it though. it’s been eating me up inside ever since i said it,” he looks at you pleadingly and you sigh. “i was an ass.”

“you were,” you agree and he chuckles. “the thing is, it’s not even really so much that you think that i would do that to you. yes, it obviously hurt, but it’s more so the fact that you would do it in public. the entire team heard you.”

“i know and believe me, i’ve already had my ass chewed out about it by everyone in that locker room, and i mean everyone. you have an entire hockey team behind your back on this one.”

“they told me. they’re also forming a line to beat you up if i needed them to which is nice,” you smile. it’s quiet for a moment before you speak again, “why did you do it? that’s what i want to know.”

“because i was angry. i was angry about the game last night and i saw you and cole. i know you’re just friends and that you’ve been helping him with his school stuff or whatever, but when you were on the plane, you were just so giggly or whatever. than that in the locker room-”

“we were just playing around, ty. he’s literally like my little brother.”

“and i know that. he made it very clear last night that you are too old for him.”

“we have an understanding,” ty presses his lips to your shoulder and you swallow. “i’m still mad at you. i forgive you, but i’m still mad.”

“you have every right to be. what i said was out of line and uncalled for, i’m surprised that you’re talking to me right now,” he chuckles, wincing as he presses his fingers to the side of his head. “oh yeah, that’s why.”

“i can’t give you anything for another couple of hours. ‘m sorry, love,” you push his hair away from his face.

“can i ask you something?” he asks and you hum. “last night, you said that you’ve given up so much to be with me and i don’t doubt that you have, i know that you have, but is there something that you’re not telling me.”

“it’s not important,” you shake your head.

he sits up then, staring down at you, “what is it, y/n?”

“do you- um, do you remember when i applied for that internship for digital marketing the summer after you graduated? after my freshman year?” you ask, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the headboard.

“yeah, you didn’t get it,” he looks at you confused. you look down at your hands and he takes a deep breath, “y/n, you didn’t-”

“they wanted me to fly to new york on draft weekend and i explained that i couldn’t then, but i could on monday. i wasn’t going to miss hearing your name being called or watching you put on that jersey, ty. they told me if i couldn’t be there on that saturday to just not bother,” you explain, “and instead of getting on a plane to new york, i got on one for dallas with you.”

“that would’ve given you so many opportunities, y/n. why would you do that?”

“because i love you and we’d been talking about it for years, you getting drafted. there was no way in hell i was going to miss it,” you shrug. “it’s fine though. i got the hockey gig and now we spend an almost unhealthy amount of time together so-”

“but that would’ve been so much better for you. you could’ve gone anywhere with that. europe, australia, anywhere. working for a college hockey team won’t look as good on job applications as that internship would have.”

“it’s in the past now. don’t worry about it. i’m happy where i am,” he reaches out for your hand and you curl your fingers around his. “wherever you are, that’s where i’m happy. fuck new york, europe, australia, or wherever. wisconsin is good for me right now. me and you, that’s all that matters.”

“it’s me and you, baby,” he mumbles and you smile, “me and you against the world, just like we’ve always said.”

[hyunjilicious]

100 ways to say ‘I love you’ Christmas Edition [bucky barnes]

Summary: it’s pretty self explanatory, I guess. (FLUFF) 1.6k

Warnings: absolutely none, just Bucky being cute, awkward and madly in love with you!!

-

In 2018, you were in Namibia, hunting down an American terrorist that had been on the run for the better part of the year. In 2019, the avengers were scattered around the globe, executing a 'shoot first, ask questions later' type of mission that ended long after the new year began. But this year, all of your friends were home. For the first time in years, the Stark Tower was shining from top to bottom with Christmas lights, carols echoing down all of its long, secluded hallways. It was the first time you'd get to actually spend the night of 24th of December with your true family. That is, if you made it in time. Back on December 19th, you and Bucky got stuck in the depths of Louisiana, with absolutely no means of communication, let alone transportation. You decided to make the best out of the situation and turn it into a road trip, but time flew by so much faster than expected, that it was now 2:13 pm on Christmas eve, and you and Bucky were sprinting down the snow covered empty highways of the east coast, dead set on making it home in time. He wasn't that eager to get back and tried to get you to rent a hotel room and spend the night alone, but you weren't having it. He huffed and puffed about not giving a shit about Christmas, but it was the first one he could celebrate with people that loved him, in over 70 years. With every motel that you passed, he'd turn and look at you from the passenger seat, begging you to stop. You didn't even consider it. You wanted him to have the full Christmas experience. A storm was brewing and you were whiteknuckling the steering wheel, fighting back the urge to yawn for the 3rd time in the last 10 minutes. After driving for 7 hours straight, you were close to passing out, but nowhere near ready to give up. "Pull over, love" he smiled, grabbing your thigh, "Let me drive. I'll wake you up when we arrive"

-

And of course Bucky refused to decorate. You spent the better half of the day rummaging through boxes and looking up diy tutorials on the Internet, doing your absolute best to make your bedroom as cozy and Christmasy as possible. Candles were scattered all over the furniture, their soft light and delicate cinnamon scent filling up the room, a small Santa Claus figurine was sitting neatly by the window, garlands dripped from every corner and your Christmas playlist was on shuffle for probably the 4th time that day. As you kept busy, lowkey exasperated whenever one ornament didn't fit in as planned, Bucky laid on the bed, making nasty comments with every chance he got. He complained about the music, said the room was too hot, that the candles made his nose feel funny and not for a second did he stop begging you to drop the fucking decorating and join him in bed. You didn't wanna hear it. You kept going, bringing in box after box of ornaments, each one making Bucky more and more frustrated.

"Buck!" you whined, turning around in your hands a little remote controlled reindeer. "His leg is stuck... he keeps falling"

"Throw it into the trash" he scoffed, plopping down on his back and hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Of course you didn't listen to him. "No..." you mumbled, more to yourself. You sounded like a child, but you didn't care. Instead, you just sat down on the edge of the bed, all your attention focused on the broken toy in your hands, "I'll fix it somehow"

"Just throw the goddamned thing away, Y/n" he groaned, "Only on my nightstand there are other 3. We got enough"

You just shook your head, focused on getting the reindeer to walk again. It was no use. You got no utensils and your nails were threatening to break as you kept trying to open up his battery container. 5 minutes of painful silence followed, ending with you finally giving up, "I'll just put something under his leg and use it as a decoration" you whimpered, legitimately heartbroken over the toy.

"Fuck, just come here. Give it to me. I'll fix the damn thing for you"

Your heart swelled up, "Really?"

"Yeah..." Bucky sighed, grabbing a screwdriver out of his nightstand and picking up the toy. "Master assassin and I'm fixing toys" he mumbled under his breath and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek.

-

Your version of paradise started just when you arrived at the tower on Christmas Eve. Bucky did as promised and then offered you a weak smile, full of warmth as he helped you out of the car when he parked in front of the Tower. You were beaming with excitement for the days that were to come. When the next morning arrived, you were sipping your coffee on the balcony, waiting for everyone to wake up so that you could all start unwrapping the presents. When the door opened you didn't expect Bucky to come out, as he never - ever, failed to sleep until noon, if given the chance. But there he was, wrapped in one of your comfy blankets, padding over to you with a coffee mug in his hand. When he reached you, he opened his arms and welcomed you against his chest, closing his hold around your body and engulfing you in the warmth of the blanket. It didn't take long until you noticed the little paper bag lodged under the elastic of his sweats, and when you asked about it, he cursed himself for ruining the surprise. He handed you the bag, and urged you to open it, insisting that it wasn't your present. When you did, your eyes landed on a knitted bunny clutching a heart to its chest. "An old lady was selling these a few weeks ago at a boutique I saw while waiting for you to meet me. I know you love to call me Bucky Bunny because you know how much I hate it. I forgot about it and came across it this morning at the bottom of my bag while searching for my charger. Now I think its stupid, a dumb rabbit and his eyes are a little bit fucked up, but he's cute and it reminded me of you, so here you go"

-

As much love as some of you had for the holiday, it still wasn't enough to convince the whole group to actually watch a Christmas movie. So, in true avenger spirit, you all decided to watch Terminator. After finishing dinner, you all scattered around the Tower. Some people left to change in more comfortable clothes, some helped clean up the kitchen, and some, like Bucky and Thor, remained in the living room, plopped in the middle of the couch, fangirling over Arnold Schwarzenegger's acting and the great sense of humour of the 90s. Eventually everyone gathered around them, you and Wanda being the last ones to show up. She cuddled against Vision's side, but Bucky was lodged in between Thor and Steve, and there was no way you'd ever ask any of them to move. Seeing you eye an open spot, Bucky waved you over as he stood up. "Here, take my seat". You wanted to object but he didn't want to hear it. Eventually, you sat down, and so did he, on the floor, right in front of you. Nonchalantly, Bucky pulled your legs apart and settled between them, with his back against the couch. He gathered your Christmas themed sock clad feet into his lap and rested his head against your knee as the movie began.

-

And like any other Christmas dinner, of course yours wasn't an exception. Natasha's recipe for apple pie was by definition the best that ever blessed the earth and none of the attendees was any stranger to that. Considering how many of you there were, as you made a point of spending the end of the year together, 2 batches had to be made. It was hectic, everyone fuzzing around the Tower, preparations on tow the whole day. And of course there would be repercussions for the chaotic atmosphere, but you'd only find out about them later. After burning through the first meal courses of the evening, it was finally time for her sweet delicacy to grace the table. Natasha neatly placed the two pies on either end of the table, proudly announcing you could all dig in. Bucky was seated to your right, and he unlike you, managed to grab a piece of pie from the first batch. You didn't think too much of it, until you started eating yours, only to realise the bottom was burned. Despite all of you trying to assure Natasha that it was not her fault and that she shouldn't beat herself up about it, she promised she'd make another one tomorrow. The night carried on as planned, but no matter how much you tried to push away the thought, you couldn't help but feel bitter about missing out on the good pie. Just when you were about to come to your senses and realise what a dumb reason for you to get upset that was, Bucky sent you text, asking you to come to the bedroom. Curious as to what this could have been about, you hurried upstairs and burst into the room, nearly crashing into Bucky's chest. He slammed the door behind you and handed you his plate - his slice of pie only halfway eaten. "I saved you a piece. These are jackals, I had to hide it. Dig in before anyone comes!"

-

On December 27th the buzz was starting to die down. When you put up the lights in your bedroom, Bucky said they could stay on for two days and two days only, and you reluctantly agreed to make a compromise. Just this time. The time to turn them off came last night, and since he offered to let them on until the morning, you felt like an unreasonable little shit if you were to ask him to turn them on again. It was about 7pm and you were two seasons deep in The X Files, and Wanda asked for your help. Bucky pulled out his phone and assured you he wouldn't watch ahead until you got back. It took you about 30 to help your friend with her problem, and when you returned to your room, confusion washed over you. The Christmas lights were on and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck" he grunted.

You turned around to see him behind you, standing in the doorway, two cocoa mugs in his hands, "I made these cause I know you like them. And I wanted to surprise you with the lights but vision is a dumbass and forgot to text me and tell me when you were almost done"

"So she didn't actually need help folding the bed sheets?" you laughed, endeared by his antics.

"Of course she didn't" Bucky shook his head, handing you one of the mugs, "She's not an imbecile"

"Oh my god" you giggled in disbelief as you sat down on the bed.

"I'll squirt shit nuggets out of my ass for two days, so please tell me at least I got the recipe right" 

He was so adorable, anxiously waiting for you to taste the cocoa he just made. "It's so good!" you rolled your eyes in pleasure, taking another sip, "Thank you, you're too sweet, Buck"

"Yeah, I know-" he chuckled, grabbing the mug from your palm and placing it on the nightstand. "I got one more present for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands"

"No, Buck-" you whined, "I didn't get you anything else-"

He dismissed your words in an instant and kissed your lips, before guiding your hands up. You opened them up and closed your eyes, curious about what he could have gotten you. First, you heard him shuffle around the bed, and then you felt something rather itchy touch your palms. You nearly burst into laughter when you realised it was his chin.

"Ok, open your eyes"

And as you did so, your eyes landed on Bucky's face, as he had placed his head on your hands. He was wearing a tiara with reindeer ears, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You're my present?" you beamed, throwing yourself against his chest.

"My face is the present-" he corrected you. "Guess what it does. Take your leggings off and you'll find out"

[neonponders]

👀 👀 👀 👀  Oh jesus oh lord. Deeper Than Skin is finished so I’ll enable another wip.

@ghostofjellyfishforgotten I hope you don’t mind me using your tags on this vampire!Billy / blood donor!Steve post as inspiration! Your brain is just too big for me not to pass up an opportunity to write vampire shenanigans.

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve didn’t judge people who worked as donors—

Fine, as an adult with a better awareness and compassion, Steve didn’t judge donors. He might’ve said some shitty things to Jonathan Byers when he worked to make his family extra money.

Honestly? Steve admired that. Jonathan being underage and having the guts to figure out how to get into the donation clinic, and then to let…

Steve knew he was a coward in a lot of ways. He knew it when he called Jonathan a queer who enjoyed leeches sucking on him. He knew it when he lost to the punches Byers threw. For a skinny, half empty blood bag, the guy could really hit. And Steve knew it when he almost ran away from Nancy and Jonathan fighting off the rogue vampire who kidnapped little Will Byers.

But Steve didn’t run away.

Just like he didn’t run away from the couch he sat on with his mother while his father explained…a situation that left Steve digging deeper and deeper into the gap between fear and bravery. Maybe call it disassociation. Or confused shock.

“You what?”

Harrington senior never took well to being interrupted. But he sighed from across the coffee table and reiterated, “The family is in debt.”

“No. You. You’re in debt. This is your problem.”

The man certainly didn’t take well to having his own mistakes shoved under his nose. “This isn’t for debate. This is the way things are and need to be.”

“No,” Steve repeated like a broken record clinging onto its song. “This is your fault. Who’s made me work minimum wage jobs to teach me a lesson? Who’s refused to pay for me to go to community college? Who hasn’t let me work in their company? And who made the shitty gambles with your company’s stocks? You shoved me out, so it’s definitely not my problem—”

“The contract has already been signed.”

Now his mother shifted her posture on the couch beside him. “Excuse me?”

Steve’s father moved his blunt nails over the armrest of his wingback, fidgeting. At least something put fear into the old bastard’s heart.

“There’s nothing I could do. The market has been evolving ever since vampires gained their rights and opened up their decades and centuries old bonds—”

“Vampire legislation passed over a century ago,” Mrs. Harrington purred. Sometimes the worst anger was the quiet kind. “You have no excuse. You lost the game, and you sold our son. Is that what we’re to believe?”

“That’s not possible,” Steve intercepted. “Slavery isn’t a thing anymore. Even I picked that up in history. And I would have to be there to sign the contract! It’s my—”

“Steve,” his father silenced. “When enough money is involved, anything is bought. And you’re not like anyone else.”

Mrs. Harrington fumed, “Do not talk to him like he’s a prize pony!”

“Except to a wealthy vampire, he is.”

Steve could only sit in weighted silence for a moment. He always joked to himself that he’d be disowned one of these days. For being a disappointment. For all of his bad grades. For giving his friends alcohol and cigarettes. For only being able to get jobs that required no qualifications or experience level at all. For discovering he liked kissing boys at the grimy music venues Robin took him to. Maybe living at home for too long. Or leaving the smell of burnt pancakes in the air too often because he always struggled with the first one—

“Vampire?” he croaked. For some reason it hadn’t dawned to him until now but…shit.

Holy shit.

Steve wasn’t being sold off to be some billionaire’s secretary for life. He was being…truly sold. Like…goodbye, Steve, who likes spring nights and summer mornings. His favorite food is breakfast and he wishes he kept with the music lessons his mom paid for instead of being peer pressured into sports. Whose best friend was Robin Buckley because she was brave and funny and stuck with him during his ironic and a little bit terrifying queer awakening…

Hello, Donor 0235. Blood type O. Allergic to nickel and checks off all vaccination requirements.

“Steve’s not wrong,” his mother echoed like a voice deep in a cave, drawing Steve out of his thoughts. “He is the one to sign the contract. Not you.”

“He is still classified as our dependent and on our insurance,” his father refused.

“So being an adult means nothing in this country?”

“They have our family records, Annette!” he exclaimed. “There is a dual government in this country even if nobody below upper-middle class sees it. The human government had to cede a great deal because the vampire population is massive. And they’ve kept track of all the Sanguis families! Name changes, and two World Wars did nothing to save us—”

“The what?” Steve all but whispered.

His mother rotated her hips to face him. “We only have legends about how it happened. Paleolithic gods making deals, vampires crossbreeding humans to make a certain kind of blood donor, human evolution after symbiotic deals were struck—but that doesn’t matter. The point is that there are people in this world with abilities that preserve themselves against vampires. That’s why you healed in less than two days after that silly fight by the movie theatre.”

His father intercepted, “The genes skipped your mother but fell to you.”

Steve’s eyes widened as his mother confirmed, “To protect us, girls have been promoted in the family tree for generations. Through marriage, their names could change, and make them harder to track.”

Steve countered toward his father, “So this really isn’t your place to sign my life away. Like five times over.”

“I quite agree,” his mother turned back to the man she’d married. The man who was supposed to protect her and her children with his name and promising, growing business.

At least Steve wasn’t the only failure in the family.

His father massaged his forehead and defended, “As I said. Humans’ government is far easier to corrupt our way into forgiving any debt. The vampires, however, are inconsolable. The bastard would have my business, the cars, our house, and taken his time discovering Steve on his own if I hadn’t—”

Steve took after his father, but he was his mother’s son as they both stood up from the couch, furious that this man had thrown his own kid under a vampire’s bus—

“Get out of the house, Steve.”

His head whipped around at her. “I-What?”

“Get out of the house,” she seethed, but not at him. “I don’t care where or what you do. Go.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice but he hadn’t managed to grab his car keys or his shoes before the house and his ribcage trembled with his parents’ arguing. He went in his socks outside and put the shoes on in his car.

Then…he didn’t know where to go. Running the hell away seemed like the obvious solution, but if vampires really had such a network, what was the point? And if he left, what would happen to his mom?

Steve drove on autopilot to the video rental store. Robin. All he had was Robin, who took the lollipop out of her mouth when the bell on the door twittered. “Hey, dingus, it’s your day off—Steve?”

He couldn’t really remember driving. That probably should have raised more red flags than he already had, but for now, the black and neon carpeting of the Family Video was blurring and swirling…

“I’m gonna throw up,” he heard himself say.

And Robin in that distant, echoing cave his mother had spoken from, “Outside! STEVE!”

[gallickingun]

could i request 48 with bakugo? i really love how you write him and i love your writing in general 🥰

a/n: you are so kind, thank you so much! my heart is in a fluffy place today so here is some sweet stuff!! well, it ends sweet. beginning is angsty :) 

DID I HEAR SOMEBODY SAY BOXER!BAKUGOU????

Prompt #48: I called you at 2am because I need you.

“Fuck,” Bakugou brushes the heels of his hands over his eyes, one completely swollen shut and the other weeping uncontrollably. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, bloody fingertips smearing over his screen. Another string of expletives tumble from his lips before he can find your name in his contacts. 

He can’t help but note the time on his phone - 2:37 am.

“Please pick up,” Bakugou swallows the growing lump in his throat, “C’mon, pl-oh, hey.”

Your voice rings out on the other end of the receiver, gravelly from sleep but he can’t even notice because he’s just so thankful that you’re awake now.

His voice cracks when he speaks next, “C-Can you...shit, can you come pick me up?”

You rattle something off, not even asking where he’s at because you already know. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to pry his backside up off the concrete after a particularly difficult match. But, he has always had his main rule - no hospitals. 

He hears the telltale beep of your side of the line cutting out and the nerves roll off of his shoulders in waves. He sinks further down the sidewalk, the brick scraping his already raw skin, but his adrenaline is pumping too hot for him to feel much of it.

When you arrive, less than a half hour later, he’s snoring against the wall of the alleyway, a garbage bin not too far away. You shake your head and step forward, smacking him on the back of the head to wake him up, “Alright, sunshine, time to go. Can you walk?”

“Oi, for Christ’s sake,” Bakugou rubs at the tender skin at the back of his head, “I could have a head injury, you bitch!”

You point your finger in his face, the tip of your nail grazing his bloody nose, “Call me a bitch one more time, Katsuki, and I will leave your ass in the street. They can pick you up tomorrow with the rest of the trash.”

Bakugou wants to snarl, wants to snap and bite at your finger, smarting off to you with some retort, but instead he keeps his mouth shut, shrinking back so you’ll leave him alone. He’s not in the mood to argue, not now. He’s already lost one fight tonight, and he doesn’t really feel like losing another.

Besides, the last argument the two of you had didn’t exactly go his way.

You help him up, lacing his arm over the length of your shoulders. He’s sticky with blood, but still warm to the touch. You help him hobble into your SUV, opening the trunk for him to climb in. You’ve lined the back with a sheet and plastic tablecloth so your car won’t be obscenely dirty after this, and your meticulousness makes him chuckle.

“Feel like a dog,” he mutters, dragging his legs up into the vehicle. 

You toss his bag in next, grazing his bruised thigh as it skids to the other side of the trunk. Bakugou’s eyes go wide and he digs his hands into the sheet underneath him instead of mouthing off like he wants to. The last thing he needs is you tossing him out of the back of your car at high speed.

“You are a dog,” you answer.

The next thing he knows, you’re slamming the trunk and making your way to the driver’s seat. Something in him wants to speak, wants to say thank you or how have you been? However, when you turn up the music and the familiar piercing sound of hard rock hits his eardrums, he knows better than to say anything. Instead, Bakugou leans his head back against your window and dozes in and out of sleep.

He’s shaken awake by the slamming of your door, the soles of your boots stomping against the concrete of your garage. The trunk door opens and he squints his eyes against the bright LED light attached to the ceiling. He swallows, snatching his bag as he swings his legs over the bumper. It hurts, and his face must show it because you step closer.

He waves you away, insistent on dragging his own ass inside. You take a stride backward and watch as he struggles to stand upright. His knees give out and a string of curse words part his lips but before he can crumble to the ground, you’re underneath him, catching his body in your arms. You lift him up as much as you can, thankful he’s shed the flashy costume in favor of a signature black tank top and cargo pants. It’s much lighter and not nearly as bulky.

The two of you hobble over the threshold and towards the bathroom. It takes a few minutes because he’s slow and heavy in your hands, but eventually you make it.

“Get in the tub,” you instruct, turning on the water. You disappear into the hallway to grab a few towels and the first aid supplies, which gives him enough time to try and slip out of his tank. 

When you return, he’s got his elbows stuck in his shirt, unable to yank it over the top of his head. You sigh, “You’re hopeless, you idiot.”

You snag his shirt and tug it over his head, having to extend your arms all the way given his height. Bakugou hisses as the tank sticks to a particular wound, the crusted blood on his shirt the only thing keeping it plugged. You ball up the fabric at the hem and give it a final tug, tossing it in the sink once it’s peeled from his body.

“God, what kind of guy did you fight?” You examine the cut which is now seeping blood, crimson dripping down the contours of his obliques. Bakugou peers down at you, a grimace ever present on his face, “Fuckin’ crazy ass. Fingernails were knives, super strength and shit.”

You shake your head and huff out a laugh, “Do you need help?”

The word ‘yes’ never leaves his mouth, but the wounded look in his eyes tells you all that you need to know. You unbutton his pants and drag the cargos slowly down his legs, careful not to reopen any major wounds. You do notice a few scrapes and gashes on his thighs and calves, making you wince at the sight. He steps out of the pants, the sensation of the cool tile welcome against his hot feet.

You’ll never get over the way his sweat smells - or rather, doesn’t smell. The scent radiating off of him reminds you of a campfire, of a summer evening spent in front of a set of flames, making s’mores and laughing with friends. His quirk seems to have nothing but upsides - not only is he both offensively and defensively a force of nature, but it also gives him a sweet aroma that deters the stench of salty sweat in favor of sugary nitroglycerin.

Bakugou kicks off his underwear, facing away from you, and you’re able to drink in his full form - he’s been taller than six foot since the last you could remember and it would seem he’s filled out even more in the past couple of months than when you last saw him. Even when he’s bruised and battered, he’s still beautiful, that much you know.

As he winces and his eyes close, you take the time to look over his shattered body. He’s got blooming purple and blue bruises all over his torso, little red cuts to offset the color range. Even still, the solid way he’s build, muscle and sinew wrapped around dense bones, makes your heart turn in your chest.

Bakugou breaks you from your trance as he steps into the bathtub, wincing and gasping as the water hits his open wounds. He sinks down to his neck in the bath water, the bubbles doing just enough to hide him from you.

“Damn,” he rolls his shoulders, swallowing the lump caught in his throat. He rolls his neck and his jugular pulses obviously, jaw muscles tensing under the pressure of his teeth as they grind together.

You drag the damp rag over the cut on his shoulder, trying to ignore the way his face screws up in pain. You sigh, “I think you’re gonna need stitches. Are you sure you don’t wan-”

“No hospitals,” he shakes his head, “you know what would happen.”

A growl rolls around in your throat but you swallow it, instead focusing on cleaning his wounds. Your cheeks heat from the closeness of his naked body, even though he’s submerged in bathwater and injured from head to toe. Bakugou has always been able to get you heated, no matter the situation.

“You can get your legs,” you tell him, wiping at his face with a new rag, staining the grey fabric red. Tears settle in the bottom of your eyelids, threatening to spill over the more you think about the situation he’s in. Despite the fact that he’s there completely out of his own volition, it still makes your heart wrench seeing him broken down like this.

The water is tinged a reddish brown when you’re done and he unplugs the bathtub. You hand him the towel before you get an eyeful of him, walking to stand in the doorway while he dries off.

“I set you some clothes on the back of the toilet,” you choke out the words, tilting your head to look up at the ceiling. He’s chuckling but it’s cut off by a grimace, “Still haven’t burned these yet?”

You kick your foot against the carpet in the hall, “Katsuki, just because you pissed me off doesn’t mean I’m not still your best friend.”

The words hurt as you say them, but you have to spit them out so they don’t die in your stomach. Being labeled as something so platonic has haunted you for decades now, ever since those playground days spent with the blonde, trying to pick up his mess and put back together those he’d hurt.

Bakugou makes the toilet seat shudder when he collapses on top of it, body hunched over from effort. He sighs, “I know you hate this.”

It’s his version of an apology, of words that he can’t ever seem to spit out right. It’s the exact reason you told him to leave you out of his irresponsible and illegal activities. Using quirks to fight was considered a heavy offense, landing some individuals life in prison. Katsuki learned to fight on the streets, and when he wasn’t accepted into U.A., he turned to underground fighting rings to satiate his need for justice and penance. 

“You’re right,” you gulp, turning to crouch in front of him. You’re on your knees when you pull out the suture kit, “I do hate this. So why did you call me?”

His hand finds the fabric of your hoodie, curling around it to use as an anchor as you start to stitch up the particularly large gash on his rib cage. Bakugou grits his teeth, the answer coming out strained, “You’re all I have.”

Unfortunately, it’s the truth. Bakugou has become a rather recluse individual, relying on specific people rather than many. Deku earning a quirk and flying to the top of UA’s class was like a kick between the legs, something Bakugou wasn’t sure he could ever recover from. To watch his childhood rival rise on the charts, closing in on the other Pro Heroes until it appeared he would challenge even All Might in ranking, did nothing but tear down Bakugou’s confidence even more.

You noticed that he started to get involved in more reckless, high stake fights. He would call you, barely breathing, and beg you to take him home and put him back together. It helped that you had become a nurse while he was learning how to use his quirk to make money under the table.

And eventually you hit your limit.

“Katsuki, this has gone far enough!” you shouted, tears gathering in your eyes. You sighed, clenching your hands to fists, “It’s time to choose. I won’t be a part of this any longer.”

Bakugou growled, stepping forward even though he could only see you with one eye, the other swollen shut, “I don’t take orders from you!”

Your lower lip quivered and you threw the bloody stitches in the sink, your fingers worse for wear after patching him up so many times, “Eventually it’s just not worth it, Kacchan. Eventually it’s too much.”

“Maybe for a weakling like you,” he spits the words like venom, and you recoil as if they’ve stung, “but I’m strong enough to handle it.”

You nodded, nostrils flaring to keep yourself from giving away too much of your feelings on your face, “Then handle it by yourself.”

The memory alone brings the threat of tears to your eyes, heat gathering at your temples and making your forehead throb. You swallow the lump of emotion multiplying in your throat, begging your feelings to get out of the way so you can do this one thing, and then he can leave.

You’re sighing again, the sight of his swollen face making your whole body hurt, “God, doesn’t this get old?”

You wash his face with antiseptic before using a butterfly bandage to seal the wound on his face. The bruised eye will just have to heal with an ice pack and some pain medication, not much you can do so close to his dainty organs.

“All I know is my fists, you of all people should get that,” he snaps, voice teetering on the edge of patronizing. His hand flattens against your side, fingers curling around your ribs, “It’s been too long and I’m too far gone. It’s too late.”

You’re sliding forward now and he can feel your thighs settle atop his so he grasps you on either side, keeping you anchored to him as you work at his face. He has a few spots near his hairline and jaw that need to be stitched back together and you focus all of your attention on them, pushing away the reality that he’s holding you just the way you like, just the way you want. 

You’ve imagined him holding you like this too many times to count. You always wanted to feel his hands on your body, keeping you enraptured in his presence, eyes glued in on your face while you sit in silence. Even if there were no conversation to be had, you would have been happy to find solace in his touch.

“S’never too late, Kacchan.”

The sound of you calling him by the name you used when you were small, when you were always chasing after him, it’s intoxicating. He swears he could get off on your voice alone - the way your lips curl around his name, how his chest tightens when you’re this close. The blood pumping in his veins is so loud he’s sure you can hear it thudding under his skin.

Bakugou tilts his head, looking up at you with his one good eye, hands falling to your thighs, “I’m sorry.”

An audible gasp parts your lips and you immediately blush, hating yourself for your outburst. It is rare for him to speak those words, to let loose the threads of honesty that haunt his mind. His face looks so open, so bare - eyes blown wide and jaw hanging open just slightly so you can see the pink of his tongue.

“Kacchan,” you shake your head, tears resurfacing as raw emotion claws at your chest like an enraged beast. You tie off his suture and drop your hands to his shoulders, thumbs brushing over the dense muscles connecting his neck to his throat, “Don’t.”

“All you ever wanted me to do was to be sorry and now that I’m saying it, you’re telling me ‘don’t’?” Bakugou’s voice rises with every word, his fingertips biting into the fleshy parts of your hips. He grinds his teeth together and his nostrils flare as he attempts to tame the fiery outburst that sits on his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a raging fury. 

Your lower lip wobbles and he surprises you by brushing the pad of his thumb over the fullest part of your lip, effectively stealing your breath. He is being kind, gentle even, something you have not seen from him in quite some time. This is the Katsuki you know, this is the Katsuki you cherish.

There has always been something between you and Bakugou, ever since the two of you could figure out that you had emotions, but were competent enough to know how to hide them. He bottles himself up until he’s ready to explode, and you feel too much but your fear reigns you in and keeps you quiet. Neither of you spoke about it, although everyone around you could feel it, could see it. 

Maybe that’s why you snapped at him all those months ago, telling him to choose. Maybe you wanted him to choose you so you could surge forward and kiss the breath out of him. But then he pushed you away, sidelined you as if you meant nothing to him; almost as if abusing his body and breaking his spirit was more important than you and the bond you shared.

“I-I’ve been so fucking lonely since you left.” Bakugou runs his fingertips down your jaw until he’s got your neck in his grasp, fingers spread out without issue over your throat. The tips of his fingers tickle the nape of your neck and you want to fall into him, to let him take you alive and never let you go. He could do away with you and you’re sure you’d still say thank you, still beg him to do it again.

Bakugou swallows and his throat bobs, but you snap out of your stupor to shake your head to fire back at him, “I didn’t leave, you chose fighting over our friendship.”

“Quit bullshitting yourself,” he growls, voice grating against his throat. You’ve never heard him so raw and real, so emotional. Bakugou grits his teeth together just long enough for your eyes to track the way his jaw muscles clench, “You wanted a confession out of me that night. You wanted something I couldn’t give you. And now you’re upset about it.”

And yet, the way that his hands hold you gingerly and warmth seeps into his carmine irises makes you think that he doesn’t believe what he’s saying, or rather what he’s denying. You roll your lips together, trying to rid yourself of some of the tension building up in your body. His eyes track the motion and it gives way to even more of his inner honesty to be put on display.

“Kacchan, I-”

Bakugou surges forward and kisses you square on the mouth, a bruising action that is over as soon as it’s started.

He pulls away, breathing heavy as his one healthy eye struggles to stay open at the sensation of your lips. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks but you can’t notice because your eyes won’t even open. Your jaw is unhinged, mouth parted while you try to absorb what just happened.

“K-Kacchan,” you whisper, your voice too close to wanton. 

His breath stutters over your lips, both hands on your face to hold you in place as he breathes you in. Bakugou’s hands are hot, warm against your cheeks, that familiar sweet scent making your head dizzy. You’ve missed the comforting smell, the reminder that he is close, within an arm’s reach. Other’s describe the scent as burnt sugar, but to you it’s a warm caramel, a familiar haze that makes you feel at home. 

The both of you open your eyes at the same time, time moving slow as your irises meet. Your palms drift to his chest, knees shifting just enough so your hips brush his groin. Bakugou grunts, eyes dropping to your lips as his waist rolls upward to meet yours, “Fuck.”

A moment of hesitation passes between the two of you before you clash together in a searing kiss. His lips slot between yours as his hands drift into your hair, holding you close to him while he makes quick work of your mouth. Bakugou, even battered and tired, is skilled at knowing when to tug your lips and when to soothe you with his tongue. It’s as if he can read your mind, making moves you didn’t know you wanted him to make before your mind can catch up with your body. 

“Kacchan,” you whine into his mouth as he sucks on your lower lip, digging his teeth into the sensitive flesh. One of his hands drifts to your hips, fingers digging into your backside as best he can from this angle.

He groans, “Love it when you call me that, shi-baby, say it again.”

You echo the name repeatedly, feeling the desperation in him grow with each syllable. He’s probably opened one of his wounds with the way his muscles are tensing but he couldn’t care less. All he’s thinking about is the way you taste, the way you feel. Your mouth is warm and gentle in comparison to his raging power, the desire to overwhelm you like an opponent sits in his belly, a fire being stoked with every motion. The touch of your hands in his hair is grounding to an extent; reminding him that he’s here, with you, and it’s not just a dream.

Eventually you have to part long enough to breathe, but he starts down the path of your throat, open-mouthed kisses leaving a patch of warmth behind. It’s as if he’s unable to let you go now that he’s had a taste of you. You whine, digging your hands into his shoulders while he works at your skin.

“I should’ve picked you,” he murmurs against your collarbone. He sucks a small hickey into the thin skin before nudging his nose over your jugular, “I-I should’ve made the right choice.”

You’re gasping for breath, the sheer force of his kisses from earlier still leaving you wanting. You look down at him, eyes blown wide and lips bruised from use, and you know that he’s telling the truth. There’s something in his irises that he can’t hide - a certain vulnerability you’re sure he’s only shown to you.

“Suki, I-” You swallow the hesitant lump in your throat, every word you’ve had pent up in your lungs for the past few months begging to be freed. Bakugou shakes his head and kisses you again, mouth silencing you before you can let out something too honest. He has to tell you the truth first; he’s been sitting on it for months, percolating with it and allowing it to eat him alive.

“I fucked up, okay? I get that.” Bakugou nuzzles his nose against yours, keeping his eyes closed because otherwise he knows he won’t be able to finish his sentences. “You scared me shitless, and I screwed everything up. I know that now. And I’m sorry.”

You brush your hands through his hair, tugging gently to reassure him. He huffs against your neck, “I wanted to choose you, I swear.”

“I wanted you to pick me,” you exhale, and suddenly you are Atlas and the world is being lifted off of your shoulders when the truth is spoken. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes but you know that it’ll frustrate him if you start crying so you lean back to try and keep them at bay. After taking a short breath, you whisper, “But I’m sorry I ever made you choose. That wasn’t fair.”

He kisses the base of your throat, lips muffled against the skin, “I-I can’t promise you I’ll just quit. This is my life right now. But, I-”

“You can’t change for me,” you tug on the back of his head to get him to face you. “I know that now.”

You’re sure his irises have never been so soft, so pale; amber gazing up at you in awe of your words. His lips are parted and you take advantage of the moment to lean forward and take his mouth captive. You slip your tongue between his lips, mapping out the curves of his teeth and gums. You moan when he suckles on the tip of your tongue, biting down gently on the base, enough to make you squirm.

He peels back to press his forehead to yours, gasping for breath so his chest brushes against your torso. Bakugou notices the glassy look in your eyes, the way your mouth loses speed the longer he kisses you.

“C’mon,” he murmurs into the curvature of your neck, “let’s go to bed.”

You blink slowly, “B-But, Kacchan, I-”

“No buts, loser,” he picks you up and tosses you over his good shoulder. A quirk-laced slap to your backside makes you squeal, “Kacchan!”

Bakugou chuckles, spanking you again, but this time much lighter. He rubs his thumb over your thigh as he walks you to your room, the trek all too familiar, “You’re falling asleep while you’re kissing me, loser. It’s past four in the morning.”

It does not take long for you to fall asleep after he’s wrapped himself around you underneath the covers, ankles crossing beneath the blankets. His hand is in your hair and his ears perk at the sound of your gentle snoring, adoration making his mouth turn upward and his eyes shine. Bakugou buries his mouth in the crown of your hair, kisses dropped over your scalp like flowers planted in a garden.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, squeezing his good eye shut, the other throbbing in a dull rhythm.

Somehow those words are easier to say when you’re asleep.

---

a/n: well, that started off alright and then slowly digressed into... dumpster fire. but hey, what’re you gonna do! i bet you hoes thot you was gettin’ some spice, huh??

taglist: @kamehamethot @simplybakugou @lady-bakuhoe @todorki-shoto @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @cutesuki--bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @voiceofreader @multifandom-fanfics @that-one-enthusiast @bitchtrynafck @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @hoe-biscus @kingtamakimurder @myherofuckademia @myherowritings @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @tumblingintothefeelstrain @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @bnhasidebin @lovekatsukibakugo @aizawamirite @plusultrawritings @bnha-violetnote @yuueimagines @suckersuki @heroes-landing @bnha-mha-imagines @heroesreverie @pink-imagines @brattyquirks @kazooli

[alderaani]

Embers

summary: After Umbara, Boil learns how to endure, and how to reclaim pieces of his brothers marching on | AO3 | series

warnings: canonical character death, grief, animal injury + mentions of animal death (completely not explicit, on the level of canon-typical violence).

a/n: finally another part of my 100 clone prompts - the rest of the series is linked above! i know there’s not much in canon to support Waxer being an animal lover, but i wanted to give Gree a friend to nerd out with and it’s cute. also gotta pay homage to @nibeul’s wonderful art here - while I wasn’t consciously inspired by it, it hits on v similar themes and is just beautiful like...that image of waxer holding up numa lives in my head rent free.

-

Insects swirled in a halo around his helmet. They swarmed around the seams of his blacks, too, attracted to the small beads of sweat there, to the tiny strips of flesh he couldn’t quite cover. The rising bites itched, rubbing where the edge of his vambraces met fabric, and the buzzing was enough to drive a man mad. Boil sighed, brushing them off half-heartedly and watching them billow angrily away. They’d be back. They always were.

In the reprieve, he fumbled at his belt for the viewfinders hooked there and brought them to his visor. As he spun the dial to within half a klik so that he could search the undergrowth, his thumb settled in the comforting groove where Waxer had dropped them and chipped the plastoid. He worried at it with his nail while he scanned, frowning.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Had been in his head for weeks now, verging on a month, and he was still waiting to feel something other than crippling emptiness. There weren’t any dreams any more, none except for the oldest one they all pretended not to have; levelling a blaster against Kenobi’s head and pulling the trigger. Even that didn’t feel like the nightmare it used to.

Eventually he lowered the viewfinder, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the stifled sound of his own breath in the dense air. A faint, humid breeze stirred the leaves, sending a cloud of thick yellow pollen up towards the canopy. Boil blinked to bring up the filter diagnostic on his HUD, keeping his belly low to the ground to avoid the stuff as it drifted lazily overhead.

“Kid, you doin’ alright out there?”

He listened to the static hum of the comm line for a few moments, biting back the panic that crawled up the back of his throat when it dragged on just a beat too long.

“Apart from gettin’ gnawed on by the bugs? Just grand, Sir.”

Potshot sounded a little winded, but that was probably just the heat. Blacks self-regulated temperature, but only to the extent that they made sure you sweated evenly. It never used to be quite so bad; that had been the one thing Phase 1 armour had going for it, for all it was bulkier and less adaptable to varied terrain. He supposed the Republic had had to cut costs somewhere. Waxer would’ve been whining by now that his ass was so hot they could light a flare off it. Potshot was young enough that he’d never known any different.

“Good, you see anything?” Boil grunted, pinging his location anyway. There was no real reason for it; Potshot might’ve still been green but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d done well to keep up so far. Boil could stand being self aware enough to acknowledge that he hadn’t been the most welcoming, or the most patient with the new partner he’d never wanted. He wouldn’t have had any right to be overbearing now, but it was for his own comfort, however small and bittersweet.

“Nothin’ at all. That seem odd to you too?” Potshot said, as the surveillance holos he’d taken popped up. Boil flipped through them, earmarking a couple to show him how to improve the angle later. The important shit was all there - enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. No birds, no creatures, no fresh droppings.

Just the bugs, and the trees, and them.

“Yeah, it’s odd alright. Think we’ve found what the general’s looking for.”

Boil felt pressure around his right boot and turned, vibroblade in hand, to stab into the fleshy vine knotting round it. It writhed and retreated, leaving behind pitted, smoking trails where acid had started eating into the plastoid. He registered the damage with a dull sort of annoyance. It was something else to take care of later, a way to look busy and shape the silence. It would fend off the others and their offers of company, made out of pity he couldn’t bear to look at.

“Really? What’re you seein’, boss?” Potshot asked.

Boil glanced upwards to track the position of the sun; high, almost directly overhead. At the peak of the day this place should have been teeming. Instead the only tracks he’d found had been baked solid, and this wasn’t the shocked quiet that followed a stampede. It was stagnant, aging.

“This forest is in the centre of an old super-volcanic crater, right?” he asked, not waiting for a response. It had been in the mission dossier, alongside profiles of the flesh eating plants, the deadly pollen and the venomous creatures, all of it fenced into the sloped, unforgiving bowl of the terrain. It was the kind of forest that stuck in the mind. “And we know that something has driven the wildlife away.”

Potshot hummed, the comm muffling for a second as he shifted. It took a moment of bitter disappointment coiling in Boil’s belly for him to realise that he’d been waiting for a sharp quip that wasn’t coming. He swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wrongfooted while lying down. If he’d ever find his balance again. If he ever wanted to feel whole now that such a fundamental piece was missing.

Potshot groaned suddenly. “Kriff it, the factories we’re looking for are underground, aren’t they?”

Boil forced a chuckle, choking past the self hatred clawing up through his lungs. The kid deserved better, deserved a superior who didn’t constantly treat him like a ghost.

“That’s it, kid. Just like the simulations, eh?”

Potshot laughed, the easy sound making Boil’s throat seize in longing so strong his teeth ached. Waxer would’ve loved him, and that made it all the worse.

“Hardly. What do we do next?”

“Alright,” Boil said, lifting the viewfinder for one last look at where he could see slight fog rising through the trees. “You get your ass back to forward command and debrief the General, I’m heading in for a closer look.”

“ What? But - Sir! We’re supposed to be working as a team. I can’t leave you -”

“Sometimes working as a team means you do your duty and trust the others to do theirs.” He cut in, keeping his voice steady by force of will. Sometimes, it meant carrying on alone. Boil clipped the viewfinder back into place and prepared to move, even as Potshot continued protesting. Boil didn’t answer for long enough that silence fell on the line.

“...am I not performing to the standard expected, Sir?”

Potshot’s voice was soft, all vulnerable underbelly. Still so shiny, and Boil remembered feeling like that, like there was still a scorecard constantly on his forehead.

“No - kid -” Boil sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d never learned how to be gentle - it hadn’t ever come naturally, and there had been no reason to lose his sharp edges when Waxer had always been there to foil them for him. He felt sharper now than ever, full of shards that didn’t sit right, and fished among the pieces for something his brother might have said. “I trust you to have my back. You’re doing everything right. But...sometimes we’ve gotta think of the mission. We need more proof before we can move in, but the two of us get caught, command loses what we already know.”

“Can’t we just send a comm?” Potshot asked, his voice still tight and hurt sounding and he was fucking this up, shouldn’t have been trusted to try to fix himself without breaking everyone else wide open in the process.

“Don’t trust it not to get intercepted,” Boil said, which was only half a lie, and would have made Cody scoff at the back to front over-caution. “And it don’t all fit in a comm. They’ll need everything you can remember to plan the advance.”

Potshot sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was looser. “...Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Boil said, feeling his own chest lighten. “If you don’t hear from me by 1100 then raise me on the priority channel.”

He listened until Potshot had stated a reluctant affirmative and clicked off the line, then bellied out of the undergrowth and headed further in, to the epicentre of the unnatural quiet. He liked the way his mind went silent on recon, how everything else fell away. It wasn’t quite the same, tilted just a little off axis, but similar enough to when it had been Waxer at his six that if he didn’t think about it, he could almost trick himself into believing nothing had changed.

Plus, the space was good, just for a few minutes, where he didn't have to pretend for anyone.

It was a quiet journey, for the most part, punctuated only by the steps he couldn’t quite muffle. His thoughts were broken some time later when he suddenly heard it; the distant mechanical boom of something deep underground. He quickened his pace, following the vibrations until the earth under his feet grew hot, the air shimmering unnaturally in front of him. It had been like this at Point Rain, when the sand baked and glinted, glass-like, under the blaze of the overhead sun. If he hadn’t known the super-volcano was very thoroughly extinct, he could have kidded himself that it was just the geothermal energy of magma moving close to the surface. A clever disguise. But not clever enough.

The ground sloped ever downwards the further into the bowl he got. He watched where he placed his feet as it grew rockier, stones and small craters acting like pitfall traps concealed by the moss. Boil pinged his scanner every minute, searching for Seppie probes as the terrain tapered, falling away into a green-rimmed yawning abyss. Set into the centre of it was a huge grate, the source of the searing air. Here were the factories they’d been looking for, exactly where he’d suspected. It was a muted sort of satisfaction.

He crouched at the edge of the drop, taking holos and transmitting them directly to the Commander’s HUD. Then he checked his chrono and sent an unapologetic follow up that he’d be late to rendezvous, seeing that 1100 was about to come and go. Then he minimised the comms on his HUD to flash for priority only; he’d get bollocked for being late sooner or later, but he figured it would be novel to have it fully in person.

Finally he turned, ready to start the rapid scale back towards the 212th's forward camp, when he registered a low, keening whine.

His blaster was in his hands within a moment, trained at the knee-high leaves. The sound came again, higher this time, followed by laboured panting.

He gently brushed aside some of the foliage with his blaster barrel. Dark eyes stared at him from between the leaves. They both froze. It was some sort of animal, obviously; a mammal, probably a predator. It was small too, with paws too large for its scrawny body and a dark, downy fur that rippled with every laboured breath.

Sharp teeth. A narrow muzzle. A long, whip-like tail.

A vornskr, Boil thought, and hated how readily the identification came, how readily he tensed in anticipation of the inevitable Boil can you see - do you know how rare -

He shook the memories away, of Waxer leaning precariously over the top bunk to wave some manual Commander Gree had sent him in his face, bleating about some animal or species that Boil couldn’t pronounce. In the present the vornskr pup cowered away from him, pushing backwards on thin, spindly legs. Deceptively powerful though, he’d bet.

The creature let out another whine and stumbled, an odd abortive movement. Boil pressed more of the leaves away to get a better look and swore when he saw the brutal metal trap closed around one of its small hind legs, paring down to bone. His blaster was up and trained on the thing before he thought much about it. Better to shoot it, put it out of its misery, than prolong its suffering. It was what they did as part of the cleanup sometimes; wildlife was usually pretty good at getting out of the active battlefronts, but there were always stragglers. The too old or the too young, mostly.

Creatures like this one.

The vornskr stilled, staring at him with those big, wide eyes as if it knew exactly what he was thinking. Boil swallowed. Waxer wouldn’t have let him shoot it. Waxer also wasn’t here now to stop him, but Boil felt his arm lower all the same, just a few inches before he pulled the trigger. The vornskr yelped as the trap hinges came apart in two neat halves and immediately tried to run. It didn’t get very far before it collapsed, panting again.

Boil sighed and shook his head, holstering his blaster across his back.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he tsked, shuffling closer.

He kept half an eye on the tail, remembering something about it being venomous. While being high off his ass on some unknown substance had the potential to make Cody’s dressing down more interesting, it might also kill him before he got there.

The vornskr growled as he leaned over it, baring needle sharp teeth, and made a snap at him when Boil reached out.

“Ah, give over,” he muttered, batting the attempt away. The little body was light in his hands as he lifted it, careful to let the injured leg hang out as he folded it into his chest. The vornskr made an odd, throaty sound and shifted, almost experimental. Then it huffed, and after a pause laid its head across his vambrace.

Boil rolled his eyes at the display, setting off towards forward command as soon as he was halfway sure he wasn’t in danger of losing a finger.

It was...nice, to have that little body cradled to him, reminiscent of better occasions when Waxer just had to stick his nose into every curious happening and inevitably adopted some struggling lifeform. However much Boil had complained, it had never steered them wrong.

When he got back to command it was to find Cody pacing the perimeter, Potshot perched on a crate nearby. The Commander’s bucket was under his arm. Boil winced. With Cody that was never an accident - usually so he could get the full weight of a glare in, the excavating kind he’d learned from Kenobi and then weaponised so that it pierced straight down to bone.

“Boss!” Potshot exclaimed, pushing off his seat. “You made it!”

“What time d’you call this?” Cody demanded, stalking over. “I was about to -”

Cody stopped short, gaze dropping to the furry bundle against Boil’s breastplate. Something in his expression softened and Boil felt in his heart, panicking as a lump rose in his throat.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Boil let his gaze slide downwards to a point far beyond, where two troopers were fighting over a tarp.

“Found it in a trap,” he said, his voice ragged. “Couldn’t - couldn’t let it die.”

He flicked his eyes back to Cody’s face and breathed through the grief and understanding he found there. Cody stepped forward and clasped Boil’s elbow.

“I’m sure Tranq will be able to do something for it.” A little upturn crept into the line of Cody’s lips. “Debrief in fifteen.”

Boil nodded and broke away, tipping his head to Potshot before clearing his throat roughly and popping his bucket off one-handed as he made his way to the medtent. The sun was warm on his face here, the air lighter. A butterfly flew lazily past and the vornskr lifted its head, tracking the motion with large, interested eyes.

Boil smiled, hoisting his bucket under one arm and daring to touch the creature's head with his freed hand. It wouldn’t ever bring Waxer back, but it meant something that this little life continued, because of the choices his brother would have made and all that he had been. Like the phantom touch of the sun still lingering in cooling earth.

It wouldn’t ever be enough. But, perhaps, it was just the right amount to cling onto.

-

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @iscream4clones @bad-batch-of-fics @battletales @majorshiraharu @dom-i-nic @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @lussyyung @whatanoof // join here

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

“Assholes stick together, or something like that.”

Summary: Hargrove gives the Insurrectionists a day off, which for them translates to “buy a pizza, get wasted, and talk about bullshit.”

(Lord help me, I’m stuck in Insurrectionists hell.)

My Real names for the insurrectionists go like this:  Brandon smith: Demo Man (Robot Arm guy) Hannah Lane: Girlie. Andrew Campbell: Sleeveless insurrectionist. James Carter: Sniper. Phil Miller: Insurrectionist Leader. 

Vacation days were a rarity working for Charon industries. You do your job, maybe get paid, and try to sleep off the bruises if you have nothing better to do.

But tonight it seemed like whatever God out there smiled upon them and granted them a night of peace. So, here they were. Enjoying the few days they didn’t have to call each other by stupid codenames. Hannah was particularly glad about that, though her voice stayed deadpan as always.

In the corner was a crate of alcohol and a few soft drinks for the pussies. Hannah complimented the alcohol choice.

“Gotta say Demo, you sure know how to pick the beer.”

She took a swig from her bottle as Demo responded.

“Try not to drink it all.”

“Fucking watch me. I can drink you under the table.”

They exchanged middle fingers. Phil kept the peace with a stern voice he had to keep with the group.

“At ease, you two. It’s our night off.”

They acknowledged his words and returned to their business. Andrew entered the room carrying three pizza boxes. His arrival was met with cheers. Terrence walked in as well but with not nearly as much applause beyond a greeting.

“Didn’t think you were coming, Terrence.”

He flashed a grin.

“And miss out on pizza and cheap beer with you losers? Fat fucking chance.”

He plopped himself on the ground, leaning against the wall as he snatched a slice of meat lovers before Brandon could. He spied the flavours and made a mental list.

Meatlovers, supreme, and-

“Alright, which heathen asked for Hawaiian?” 

Silence. That only made him more annoyed.

“Admit it and I’ll try to make sure you only walk away with a broken nose.”

Hannah answered as she took a bite. A bite right into the yellow fruit.

“That’d be me, fishface,”

They glared at each other. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that Terrence was staring while Hannah was lazily checking her nails for chips. She didn't actually care about nail care but it pissed him off so she pretended anyway.

“Tomorrow, you and me. Gym.”

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Basically her typical mood.

“Whatever.”

Terence lapsed back into grumbles and bites. They were all silent save for the occasional profanity and chatter. James, who had been quiet for most of the session like always, questioned their two missing members.

“Are the twins coming?”

The twins referred to the pair of gunners in steel red trimmed armour and faces painted on their visors in yellow paint. They didn’t seem to speak beyond Varying laughs for Chain Girl and seeping for Chain Guy.

“Dunno. Do you think they can eat?”

A shared groan.

“We are not reviving this debate-

“HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THEM WITH THEIR HELMET OFF-

‘Maybe they’re shy-

“I CAN HEAR THE GIGGLING AND SOUNDS THEY MAKE THROUGH MY EARPLUGS-

Andrew jumped in.

“Look, we’ll save them a slice and they can eat it whenever.”

Grunts of agreement. The cycle continued and the meat lovers was almost finished before Phil grabbed everyone’s attention.

“So, sorry if this is a little out of left field-

“If you get mushy I’m breaking my bottle over your head.”

Snickers from Hannah’s comment. Phil expected that but kept going

“But. I appreciate that we could have this time to just dick around, drink cheap beer, eat pizza, and talk shit. Those Freelancers are making things real busy.”

Brandon interjected next.

“Eyup, I’m still waiting for an apology letter.”

“Aww, they hurt your feelings?”

“I have a robot arm thanks to them-

Phil refocused everyone.

“My point is, thanks for coming. Here’s to being assholes.”

He raised his half empty bottle at the end of his sentence, watching as five more were raised in kind. A unified cheer.

“To being assholes!”

They all took a drink. And fell silent in the moment of friendship.

Then someone had to ruin it.

“Sooo… I’ve got some uno cards. Drunk uno-

“Fuck you, no. I am not putting myself through that again.”

They fell back into arguments and profanity, Phil watched on in fondness.

What a bunch of assholes…

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[i-am-the-balancing-point]

6, 8, 14, and 21 for the far cry asks!!

THANK YOOOOUUUU!!! These were so exciting to answer 😍 under the cut bc it’s long tho:

6. What was the first Far Cry game you played?

Far Cry 3. I think it was way back in 2015. I had just cut my hair into a mohawk (at home, on my own, with a half-broken lady shaver, lots of teenage-rage and even more determination) and I was completely stunned when Citra stepped into frame frame for the first time because !!!! “Holy shit, she looks like me!”, I thought.

8. If you had to pick, what Far Cry game would you like to be stuck in and why?

Probably Far Cry 5 would be closest to what I think I could endure the longest. Sure, I am not a fan of camping or the outdoors, I am neurotic and have a lot of food compulsions which are all not very compatible with an environment that needs you to make do with what you have and where you can absolutely not be wasteful under any circumstances. I also don’t do well with loud noises, am vehemently anti guns and need several prescription meds to function. I’d probably not have A Very Fun Time™ but I’d be even more miserable in the settings of any of the other games if you really think about it. 😅 At least North America has a climate and culture I think I am at least marginally familiar with.

Rook Island would absolutely kill me, the second I merely set foot on it. Just imagine the heat, the humidity, THE BUGS!! Gosh, the bugs and sweat and dirt would get to me SO fast. (Have I mentioned the prescription meds? Yeah, the side-effects include increased photosensitivity so despite being brown, I still burn up like only Jacob could.) I feel like, if I managed to escape the pirates at all because, let’s face it, that’s the only way to even get on the islands, I’d probably get bitten by a snake, some dangerous insect or die from dehydration or eating some questionable fruit in the jungle. I also am scared of monkeys.✨ That would probably not kill me but if I, for some reason, didn’t get sent off by the pirates on an all-inclusive human trafficking trip, wildlife would definitely get me off the face of earth real quick.

It’s similar for Kyrat and Yara, but I think with the former, the altitude would be my biggest problem.

14. If you could pick one Far Cry title to play again for the first time, which would it be and why?

Most definitely FC3. It just means so much to me, more than I could put into words, and I wish I could explore the entire game once more with “fresh” eyes.

21. What boss fight is your favorite?

This is a super tough one but I think it’s the Payback mission, Vaas’ boss fight, in FC3. If not for “Take me into your heart. Accept me as your saviour. Nail me to the fucking cross and let me be reborn!” alone, then definitely for the state of frenzy you fall into when you arrive at his compound with the music rushing through your ears, amplifying in your head, the adrenaline spiking high when Vaas suddenly appears on the screens as you try to sneak in only to learn he has already expected you. Or the hallucinations!! Citra, Vaas and Jason alternating, switching places, becoming one. Did all this happen and Jason doesn’t remember or is this all just the peak of another looong horror trip? The way time slows when Jason drops the Silver Dragon and finally gets to stab Vaas as he catches it with his other hand, drunk on the powers of his tattoo and driven by blood lust running through his veins, resulting in completely overkilling his former captor — it gives me chills. It’s almost orgasmic.

Typing this out, I just realised that, despite not being physically present, Citra hovers over this scene. She was probably the last thing on both their minds as Vaas dies. God, I’m getting chills again!

– Ask me questions about Far Cry, please! –

[modecaisnow]

The Immobile Man

**18 Years or Older: The following includes themes of: immobility, XSSBHM, unrealistic situations, and homoerotic self-pleasure. REMEMBER: The relationship portrayed in this story is an unrealistic caretaker-client relationship – it is okay to read and enjoy these works of fiction, but what is essentially a “boss-worker” relationship should not take place in the real world. ENJOY!!**

Sam is a new Home-Care nurse. He is excited and anxious about meeting his first ever client! However, he quickly realized he may have bitten off more than he could chew...

It was my first day as a home-care nurse. I was excited to get out in the world and help people, but I didn’t know what was in store for me. My professors and Clinical Instructors always said that “your first patient will be one you never forget.” The thought of that was just as exciting as it was worrying. This must be the place, I thought to myself as I stood outside of a single-floor home. The outside of the house was not well-kept. The yard was a mess, and the siding was covered in green moss. I double-checked the address on my patient files and then triple-checked just to be sure. After a deep breath, I approached the house and walked up the two, small cement steps. On the door, was a sign saying: “All packages: Please go around to side window and drop it in window. Thanks.” I didn’t think much of it – in fact, things like this were expected for clients like this one. According to the file, the patient was Mr. Mike Jacobs. He had “limited mobility” and required a “high level of assistance with all activities of daily living” and “activity monitoring.” I was not told much more than that – I was only told the information I needed to know. How he got hurt, or whatever rendered him with limited mobility, was not part of the information I needed. I knocked on the door. -Silence- I knocked a second time. -Silence- I knocked a third time. “Yeah… who’s there?” Called a thick, deep voice from inside. I slowly opened the door, after the baritone voice called from deep within the house. “My name is Sam, and I’m a Home Health Nurse. I’m here to help Mr. Jacobs…” “That’s…me!” The man coughed. “Come in! I’m in… the bedroom here!” I slowly opened the front door. Immediately, I was met with a musky, damp smell. I covered my nose at first, but then stopped as I felt it was unprofessional. After regaining my composure, I slowly walked through the house and toward the bedroom. The carpet itself was torn and stained, small wheel treads were indented into the carpet, all leading from the couch to the kitchen. The entire house looked like it was on the TV Show “Hoarders.” Old boxes and bags cluttered the rooms in large heaps. The furniture was snapped and broken. Everything was covered in dust – even the appliances in the kitchen. The heaps of trash managed to pile almost as tall as me, but at 5’6” (167cm) I was not terribly tall anyway. Inside the kitchen, was a broken-down mobility scooter. The wheels had all burst, and the seat was crushed and flattened like a pancake. “I’m in here… come in, boy!” The man wheezed. I slowly opened the door and my jaw dropped. In the middle of the room were two, full-sized beds resting side-by-side, connected by a plank of wood in the front that was nailed into the bed frames. The legs of the bed frames were reinforced and wooden blocks, as well as books, were shoved up under the sagging frame to help add extra support. The mattresses on the frames were both flattened until they were no thicker than a pillow, both overwhelmed by the mound of blob-like lard on the bed. Next to the blob was a rolling cart with one pizza box on top – a plethora of empty boxes was scattered along the floor. “I’m Mr. Jacobs… you can call me… by that… or by ‘Sir’… either is fine.” The man was immense. I was surprised he even managed to muster the energy to speak between mouthfuls. This man was not human – his size was not physically possible. In fact, I had to rub my eyes just to be sure, and I looked around for hidden cameras to see if I was on a prank show or if this were a test. This man was easily over 1000 pounds, or maybe even 1400 or more pounds. Either way, it was a sight to see – he must have been the fattest man around, or even alive. Wobbling dangerously close to the end of the bed was the blob’s belly. Flabby, doughy piles of flesh spilled outward and sagged down from his front. The looming mass of blubber covered most of the mattresses beneath the tub of lard. At the front of Mr. Jacobs’ belly was a deep belly button, which must have been out of his reach for a long time. The cavernous belly button marked the division between two vast, distended folds of pure fat that sat atop each other. The bottom fold, which forced the mattress to sink downward, spilled all around the fat man’s frame, where it rounded his sides and became a series of substantial love-handles that oozed over his gelatinous, mammoth thighs. I could not distinguish the different segments of the obese glutton’s legs. It was just a series of rolls and folds piled against each other. Every roll sagged down towards his fat feet, where the lard oozed around his long-lost ankles. The fat from his thighs blended in with his massive rear, which spilled out far behind him. Two gigantic globes of ass fat smothered multiple pillows that were placed at the head of the bed. Even while standing in front of the blob, I could make out his wide load of a rear. My eyes were drawn back to his belly button. It looked deep and was starting to become hidden away by the looming roll of flesh that swelled over it. At the crest of the blob’s belly, were two massive moobs. These moobs splayed off to the sides of the man’s belly with two nipples that were easily the circumference of my hands. The bottom half of his fattened areolas had started to become hidden as his own expanding chest fat forced them to point downward. Neck, shoulder, and upper arm fat all blended into what seemed like one massive, sagging mound of dough. The only distinction was the pillow-sized forearms that emerged from his flab-engulfed upper arm. Due to the daunting magnitude of the fat mounds that sagged off of his side, Mr. Jacobs’ arms were stuck almost parallel to the ground. However, it just seemed to make it easier for him to eat since he only needed to grab another slice of pizza and bend his elbow. Everything about this man was fat. Similarly to how he did not have a discernable neck or ankle, this man’s wrist was also engulfed in lard by his own gluttony. The seemingly most mobile part of him was his fingers. The cheeks on both sides of his face were swollen to the point where they started to impinge on his field of view. “I-I-I’m…um…” I stuttered as I continued to ogle the blob. “Surprised?” The man interjected as he swallowed the last slice. “You’re surprised to see me… ain’t ya?” He grabbed the empty pizza box and shoved it off the rolling cart. It fell to the ground with the rest of the empty garbage that fell victim to his ravenous feeding. “Um.. no… well… I meant to say, I’m Sam. I’m your new nurse.” “Fuckin’ finally!” The man wheezed and panted. His massive moobs heaved up and down with each labored breath. “I have a ton... of shit for… you to do… I’m too big to… do things on my own…” “Yes, sir! That’s why I’m here.” Mr. Jacobs quickly got me to work. He rattled off a long list of things, but before I could do anything though, I had to take a baseline of his vitals. When I took out the blood pressure cuff, Mr. Jacobs laughed at me. He pointed to his arm and laughed some more. There was no way that the cuff could fit around his arm. I then approached him and asked for his wrist, so I could measure his pulse. That did not work either. The gluttonous blob relaxed, and the immense heaviness of his arm alone was too heavy for me to hold. I tried to dig my fingers into the fat that engulfed his wrist, but I could not find a pulse. As I dove my fingers deeper and deeper into his fat arm, I was met with only more lard. I then attempted to maneuver to his neck, but I couldn’t find it. I leaned against the side of his belly, and slid my fingers between his chins and tried to find a pulse in his neck, but like his wrist – there was way too much blubber. “So… what are…my vitals, boy?” “I-I- um…” The fat man laughed, “Couldn’t do it… could ya? Don’t worry… it ain't the first time... The other nurses… failed too… You’re lucky ya cute… I gave… other nurses a harder time… How bout you… get to doing… what I ask ya?” Mr. Jacobs had me running around the entire house doing work for hours. I first needed to remove all the garbage from his room. I picked up dozens and dozens of empty pizza boxes, heaps of fast food bags, and even threw away old, torn clothing that fit him a few hundred pounds ago. Afterward, I did the same through the rest of the house. Once finished, he then asked me to add some extra support to his bedframes. I grabbed bricks from outside of the house and piled them beneath the buckling frame. I even grabbed extra wooden planks and hammered them into the sides of the bed frame, which was starting to crack and snap. Once a few more boards of plywood were added to the sides, as well as underneath, the frame seemed a lot sturdier. Mr. Jacobs scoffed at my work without even saying a thank you. He then asked for me to rub his belly for him – he was far too full and tired. Besides, the lack of mobility combined with his impinged range of motion stopped the obese man from even being able to reach his belly button. The man had eaten until he was beached under all his lard and stuck on his own bed in a reclined position. “Sir, I’m not sure if that’s part of my job-“ “-I don’t… give a fuck… I’ll pay extra… just rub me, boy!” I pulled over a chair, one of the few that were not broken, and set it down near his side. I leaned over his fat thigh and started to caress his weighty love-handle. Despite being in a haze from his belly-bursting fullness, Mr. Jacobs reached lazily under his moob and took out his phone. He quickly started typing away, with his mouth hung open as he moaned from my rubbing him. I rubbed in clockwise circles – this was the best way to help with digesting food. The immobile, beached whale of a blob continued to type and type on his phone. He then reached back under his doughy moob and pulled out his wallet. His fat fingers lazily fumbled for his credit card, which he eventually managed to pull out. He rested his credit card on top of his chest as if it were a desk. “What are you doing, Sir?” “What... do you think? I’m buying… more food… It’s almost dinner time… you want… anything from… Chan’s, boy?” “Sir, I don’t think you should be eating. I’m here to get you active again. You should be ordering something light, with low calories-“ “I’mma stop you there,” The looming mountain range of lard lazily reached his fat hand down and grabbed the collar of my shirt. He pulled me in close, nearly forcing me onto my feet and pulling me in against his love handles. My face was centimeters from his fat nipple. “You are here… to feed me… to do as I say… to rub me… You ain’t changing… anything about me… Those other nurses… tried and failed… I’m meant to be like this… I’m a real fuckin’ man… Back in the day… weight was a sign… of power and wealth… Hate to break it to ya, boy… but you’ll never stop me… from eating…” With each lethargic wheeze and every baritone murmur, the sea of lard that I was being pulled up to rippled and wobbled. The bed groaned and popped loudly. I could hear some of the wooden planks start to splinter as I was now leaning against the already weakening bed frame. I just looked up at the swollen fat face that glared down at me. Mr. Jacobs let go of my shirt, and I peeled away from his gelatinous flesh. After the incident, I decided to just keep rubbing his belly. Mr. Jacobs huffed and puffed angrily as he completed his order. He commented that I would only be able to eat the left-over scraps if I behaved. I did not want him to contact my supervisor – this was my first real client and something was interesting about him – this huge, mountainous tub of lard. Under my fingers and palms was a sea of soft lard. The blubber only seemed to wobble and slosh as my hands gently caressed its canvas. My eyes gazed across the landscape of fleshy tones in front of me. The size. The vastness. The weight of it all. It started to feel…hot. I could feel my mouth water as I continued to gawk at the obese glutton – the man who ate himself into immobility. The man who beached himself on his bed after years of stuffing himself until his belly was about to burst. -DING-DONG- The ringing doorbell knocked me from my euphoria. I looked up at Mr. Jacobs and he took his fat hand and shoved me away. He wheezed and demanded I answer the door, and I did as he asked. At the door were three delivery boys, each carrying about 5 bags of Chinese food in each hand. I had them put the bags on the ground, and I brought them in for Mr. Jacobs. He had me empty the bags and place the cartons and boxes of food on the rolling cart next to him. There was more than enough food to feed over 20 adults. I pulled out dozens of boxes of white rice, several trays of lo mein, a large container packed with sauce packets, and over a dozen containers of sauce drenched General Tsao’s Chicken. This was only from the first few bags. As fast as I was pulling them out, Mr. Jacobs was ripping into them. He tossed the silverware and chopsticks aside. All he did was bring the containers up to his face and dump the contents into his fat mouth. I watched in awe as the gluttonous beast ate and ate. It was as if he had never eaten before in his life. “Jack me off… while I eat…” The obese glutton commanded. “What? I really don’t think I can-“ “-You’re job boy… is to…mmmfff… help me… with my… needs, right?” “…yes, sir…” “Don’t keep… me waiting!” He immediately returned to stuffing himself. I walked over to the front of his vast belly. Bits of rice and chicken fell down from his mouth and rolled down the large sloping gut. I started to slide my hand under the front of his stomach, reaching deeper and deeper inside. The warmth of his soft, ravenous belly smothered my hand under its vast weight. Next, my wrist slid underneath. Then my forearm. Then my elbow. Finally, my upper arm slipped under his gut, and still, I did not feel any signs of a fat pad nor dick. Mr. Jacobs leaned forward. The weight of his belly felt increasingly heavy and pinned my arm against the bed. Mounds of looming belly fat rolled forward, spilling against the side of my head as I was stuck in place. He looked down at me from atop his mountain range of blubber and scoffed. With a mouth filled with fattening, greasy slop, he commented, “Ya never… jacked off… a man like me have ya?” I shook my head. “Well… ya can’t… reach it… like that… gotta go in… from the side… less fat in… the way…” He leaned back and panted heavily. I felt his heavy gut ease off of my arm. I slid it out and walked back over to his side. I leaned over his fat, immobile leg. My tight torso sinking into his blubbery thigh. I reached my hand deep underneath his love handle. This time, I was able to trace my fingers along the mounds of fat of his thigh right up to where it met his fat pad. My boney fingers felt the hairs on his fupa. I walked my fingers down, feeling a crevasse form in the supple, warm sack of lard. I slid my hand inside the cleft. My entire arm was submerged under the landscape of pure blubber. Mr. Jacobs moaned softly and continued to stuff his face. The hole was not tight by any means, but it was warm and soft. My fingers alone caused tiny ripples throughout the fat pad. Once I was wrist-deep in his fupa, my hands felt something hard and wet. I wrapped my fingers around it and started to gently play with it. I looked up at the obese glutton and he laughed. That was not his dick. I pulled my arm out, and inside my hand was a small vibrator. It was covered in partially dried cum and covered in hairs. Mr. Jacobs chuckled and mentioned that right before he got too fat to touch himself, he stuffed a vibrator in his fat pad. That way he could wirelessly turn it on to use it, but it had run out of batteries. He finished by saying he completely forgot it was there, a few hundred pounds later. I left the device aside and reached back in. My head was pressing into his love handle as I was shoulder deep under his fat. The heavy lard sloshed and rippled against me. I could feel his fat churning and his fupa trembling as his cock and balls prepared for my fingers. As my fingers snaked into the warm, hairy cave, whose walls were drenched in some viscous cream, I felt the tip of a fat-engulfed cock. Mr. Jacobs trembled and moaned loudly with a mouthful of food. His tip nearly surged with life as I touched and played with it. I clutched onto whatever I could. The mounds of fat consumed my hand as I adjusted inside the cavernous fat pad. Mr. Jacobs continued to eat and grunt loudly. I could hear the slurping and squelching of the moist fupa as I started to jack off the obese glutton. -SCHLURP-SCHLURP-SCHLURP-SCHLURP- The moans came out louder and louder as I continued to play with the fat man’s dick. Mr. Jacobs even stopped stuffing his face to tilt his head back and moan with pleasure. The bed began to groan, and the legs started to snap as the immobile ocean of fat started to use all of his energy to hump my closed fist. I held my hand still, with my fingers tightly holding his dick, and let him rock his hips back and forth as much as he physically could. Beads of sweat started to trickle down his love handles and land on the back of my head. His tiny, fat-engulfed dick slid in and out of my fingers as I continued to clench tightly. With one last, powerful thrust, I felt his entire body surge and the tip of his meat twitch. A final smack from the side of his immense landscape of fat hit the back of my head. -SNAP-SNAP-TTTHHHUUUDDDD- The bedframe snapped to pieces. We collapsed to the ground. The back of my head was struck by a tsunami of lard and blubber. Mr. Jacobs just moaned loudly as his balls emptied into his fupa, lubricating my fingers. I slowly pulled out my fingers and they were covered in seed. I walked into the bathroom to clean off my hand, then returned with a towel to begin cleaning him off. Mr. Jacobs started to eat again, stuffing his face with more and more Chinese food. He dumped containers of rice and tilted platters of chicken towards his open mouth. I barely even noticed him chewing – as if he just swallowed it all whole. The obese man, immobilized by an ocean of flab, spent the rest of the night either eating food or commanding me to cook for him. Before it was time for me to leave, I did one last clean up around his house and dragged the broken-down mobility chair into his room. “Would you like me to try and get you a new chair, Sir?” He lazily looked up from stuffing himself, “Hmm… no… don’t bother… Too puny… I’m too heavy…” “I can try to find a larger one…” “No… better off… putting wheels on… a bed, boy…” I shrugged my shoulders and turned around. Before I could take a step, I heard an ominous creak from the floorboards and Mr. Jacob grunting loudly. Soon after, I felt a fat hand cup my rear-end and squeeze firmly. The obese glutton moaned softly and licked his lips. He leaned over as much as he could as if trying to whisper in my ear. My crotch lept in my pants. “Don’t go… too far… boy… Daddy’s gonna… need ya… again…” He huffed between breaths. I smiled. He was quickly starting to grow on me – something about his confidence. Over the next few days, I continued to assist him in all his daily activities. He would just eat away all day and watch me work, and I would periodically try to get him moving. I managed to set up a pulley system above his bed which he could grab and hoist himself up if he laid down, and it doubled as a way to lift his belly. I would hook a tarp up to the pulley and slide it under his gut. The device would lift up his belly, and I would be able to clean underneath it, among other things. At the end of my first week with him, Mr. Jacobs asked me to move in permanently. He would pay for my living expenses and continue to pay me for my services. I didn’t even need to think – I already knew I wanted to. Thus, began a truly great first-client experience.