#namely. like. the pain of muscles being the normal amount of sore after working out. i think its fair to call that kind

[toytulini]

wore my nightvale "pain is just pain entering the body" tshirt to a physical therapy appointment awhile ago and it was a bit of a hit

[jytan2018]

Jumping in as someone whose scoliosis went undiagnosed until I turned 23, after years of going, "Haha, back pain in my 20s amirite? Everyone has it these days, it's so weird":

Back pain is absolutely not normal. It can be common, sure, but so is shortsightedness and at least people acknowledge it's not always 100% your fault so you can get glasses for that stuff without being shamed. If your back is sore all the time and all your holier-than-thou Boomers relatives do is go, "Tsk tsk tsk, I told you to sit up straight", know that it's not your fault, society in general just didn't bother teaching us about the musculoskeletal system beyond learning the names of muscles and bones.

(more info about back pain specifically under the cut, I don't wanna derail anyone's post here)

Okay, so. Not all back pain is caused by a fruity spine, but a LOT of back pain is caused by your muscles either:

a) Getting sore because you've had bad posture for so long, they've atrophied to the point that they're literally too weak to hold your bones in place now even if you sat up straight.

b) Getting inflamed because all the muscles in Group A atrophying means certain muscles are working overtime to keep your spine upright, and they are SICK OF THIS SHIT

c) Stress makes you tense, but muscles can remain tense long after you've switched off your fight or flight response, and you won't feel a thing until someone tries to un-tense them. This is why massages can hurt if you haven't had time to chill in like, forever. Massages are the muscle equivalent of trying to feed a toddler veggies—they WILL scream, but you'll have to do it anyway.

A lot of folks with mild scoliosis like me ("mild" being a spine that's curved by about 50 degrees or less, which doesn't warrant surgery but can still hurt like a motherfucker) often go undiagnosed because we don't really pay attention to our spines unless someone notices your posture is Wack™.

What nobody tells y'all is that the reason scoliosis gives you Wack Posture™ and Back Pain™ is that your spine instinctively wants to stay in a (mostly) straight line. It's how it keeps your body from keeling over, but unlike Taylor Swift, it has zero self-awareness and is not capable of going, "It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me."

So what do these snakey bones do, especially when you're a kid and they still have flexy time before you hit puberty? They twist your entire fucking body just so they can arrange themselves the "right" way. If your muscles were already strained because you unconsciously adopted bad posture for schoolwork or whatever, this will make causes A, B, and C even WORSE.

So how do you fix your back pain?

- First of all, if you suspect something's really off and you can afford to, get your back X-rayed to make sure your spine is straight and not fruity. No amount of massages and physiotherapy will work if the person kneading you like dough has no clue your spine's being an asshole to your muscles. Plus, if you got a slipped disc or something, a doctor would find that out too.

- Daily stretches/exercises. Ideally, you'll be working with a physiotherapist who knows which muscles on your back need to regain their strength, and which need to learn to fucking chill. My right-leaning spine makes the left side of my hip jut out for balance, so my chiro's been prescribing exercises that stretch only the left side of my body, in hopes that my left muscles will eventually grow strong enough to pull my spine back into position. You can try to Google stretches for specific muscles if you really know your body, but do NOT limit your searches to just pain relief stretches, especially if you've had this back pain for months.

- Chiropractors are useless unless they incorporate some form of physiotherapy into their practice. There's a reason we call it the musculoskeletal system, not the muscular and skeletal systems (mostly, anyway). Your chiro can crack your spine as loudly as they want, but your muscles can't hold it in the right position forever unless they relearn what the right position even is.

- This isn't going to apply to everyone, but supplements. For those with really inflamed muscles, my chiro prescribed turmeric for its anti-inflammation properties, and CoQ10 because it's like a Monster drink for mitochondria (yes, the powerhouses of your cells need energy too, and CoQ10 helps them produce more energy transferring cells that you may know as ATP, or adenosine triphosphate). Vitamin D supplements also help, for those who can't get 'em from the sun without barbecuing yourself or live someplace where the sun barbecues EVERYONE.

Sorry for the rant, hope it helps someone in any way. Pain doesn't always lead to gains, people. You don't deserve to suffer for no reason.

notes for my impostor syndrome:

• no, it's not painful to walk for abled-bodied people

• no, healthy people don't usually use every chance they get to lean against walls or sit down

• no, ableds don't dream about shower stool

• no, ableds don't celebrate days when they're not in pain. because usually they're not in pain

• no, ableds don't want to stop walking mid-way, lay down on the ground, curl up and cry and whine from pain

• no, ableds aren't exhausted by their own bodies 24/7

[stahp-right-there-peasant]

You. Takes on what Floory feels as far as sensations in the ground. Do you think earthquakes feel like he’s being shaken around? Digging feels like sharp pain? He gets sore when large amount of foot traffic are concentrated (events like concerts etc)?

Okay, just before I go full fan theory on y’all, jsjsnsjjsgsjhsud THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION

Now onto the insanity (inanimate insanity 😏)

K, so I’m gonna go in order,

For earthquakes, I think that (any that he doesn’t make himself) feel like something inside him is grinding and/or breaking. It’s a bunch of sharp pains mixed with the pain of a stomach ache, as well as the disorientation of having your entire being shaken. He might even feel it coming as a headache-like thing or like a flipping of the stomach. After the initial event, I imagine it’s kind of like the pain of a broken bone and a deep-running ache. He’d probably also be dizzy and his head would hurt a lot, maybe even having symptoms similar to that of a concussion?

But that’s not included the pain from if the ground split/broke. I imagine that, if that happened, he’s be in a lot more pain. Like he’d almost be unconscious from how bad it was (cuz on top of the normal earthquake pains, now he’s basically got a gaping wound)

Which leads me to the digging. I think that digging would depend on some factors.

1) how prepared he is/if he knows what’s happening. If he knows it’s coming and understands what’s going to happen, he can be prepared to handle it. I imagine he could maybe release some kind of numbing chemical for the dig area.

2) his distance from the digging itself. If he’s far enough away, he won’t feel it at all. If he constantly felt everything at once, that’d just be overstimulation hell. He can move away from the area and it’d be fine. If he’s right by it though, that’s gonna be a problem.

and 3) the implements used to dig, how much is being dug up how quickly, and how deep/wide the hole goes. I think that metal tools and such would be much more uncomfortable/painful than stone or wood, which are more uncomfortable/painful than normal hands/paws. As well, I imagine it’d hurt more when, say, a construction digger thingy (can’t remember the name) takes a massive hunk out of the ground, than when a trowel scoops out a flower. It’s a lot more painful to have a finger cut off than a little nick. This also leads into the size of the hole. The bigger the hole is, the more ground is removed.

But as for the pain, I feel like it’d kinda depend on the tool used. Mostly just that shovels and things are pointier and stab into the ground, while things like your hands and stuff are soft and gently pull at the earth. I think it’d depend on the size of the hole but I think that the initial digging would be like accidentally getting cut by your knife or something similar to a hard pinch, but afterwards it’d be more of a dull ache or a scrape for a while before fading as the ground got used to it. (If the hole is bigger, it’d hurt more for longer before fading)

And finally, I think that often trod places would be sore/ache more the first few days but after a while of the continuous use it’d not be as bad (kind of like working out) Places that have a lot of foot traffic only once though, (like for concerts, fairs, etc.) would be similarly achy and sore after a while. If The Floor’s face/consciousness was closer by, the pain would be more prominent and kind of like a headache and/or achy joints/muscles. But if he’s further away, it’d get duller and duller until it was nonexistent. Lots of stomping/jumping/hitting the ground in general would exacerbate the pains (and probably make his headache/other aches feel like they’re throbbing).

so yeah! That’s my answer! Thanks again for the question, I had a lot of fun answering it! Love dumping my brain mush out for the Internet to see /silly

anyways, I hope y’all enjoyed this and feel free to add your own things in the replies/reblogs! (And if you’re at all confused, you can also ask for clarification)

[echo-of-sounds]

homecare

Small drabbles of Aizawa, Toshinori, and Hizashi taking care of you when you’re not feeling well. In Aizawa’s, you have a migraine. In Toshi’s, you have a stomach bug. In Hizashi’s, you have shingles (I got an ask about it, so I decided to change Hizashi’s to give the requester a little something to feel better)

Warnings: vomiting (there’s no real detail)

Aizawa Shouta

Blurs blotched the hallway. It turned to a flash of light, needles into your right temple. The sharp, sudden pain shot behind your eyes, tilting your vision off-kilter. You grabbed the wall for support as more brightness blinded. You quietly called out, “Sho? You there?”

“Right here.” A hand found your side, holding you tight. Shouta’s voice was soft yet still a little chiding, “I told you to lay down.”

“I needed to use-” A stab punctured your right temple. You lurched forward, feeling your stomach reel with it. His arm remained around you while you panted, “I just needed to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, you’re done with that. Come on, you shouldn’t be standing. I don’t want you to fall.” You didn’t put up a fight, giving him silent permission to bring you back to bed.

But the floor seemed to sink, spinning, smeared in black spots, spiraling in from your peripheral. Shouta asked something through wool, yet sharp enough to slit your temple. Then the floor rushed at you. His arm caught your front. Tingling overtook your legs. Cold shuddered your body, making you cling to his arm. It was warm and solid and felt like the only thing that wasn’t hurting you.

He helped you up and quickly half-guided, half-carried you to bed. “Did you grab my…” you trailed off once your head met the pillow. Taking the strain of bearing the weight of your head off your neck muscles immediately eased some of the shooting. Your eyes closed, refusing to take in any more light.

“Yeah.” A tiny pill was placed on your palm, hopefully the cure to this stupid migraine. A water bottle came next. “Careful. It’s open.” His fingers didn’t leave yours, guiding the bottle to your lips, letting you take multiple gulps.

You sighed your thanks and tucked the blankets under your chin.

A cold cloth rested over your eyes. “Is that good?”

You hummed.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Can you shut the blinds?”

He blocked out the rest of the day’s light. “Anything else?”

“Can you stay with me? I’m cold.”

Shouta didn’t respond. He just crawled under the covers, laying behind you, close but not cuddling. It was enough for his warmth to touch you. His hand nestled on your hip, keeping contact as you fell asleep.

Yagi Toshinori

Your eyes shot open, you jumped off the couch, and barely reached the toilet in time for your stomach to release. The strain constricted your ribs, tensing your neck and temples. Water dripped from your eyes as you flushed the toilet and slumped against the wall. Weak muscles wouldn’t let you stand, so you sat there, sweating and shivering, until you drifted asleep.

Toshinori’s voice said your name. You shrugged the hand off. He whispered, “Sweetheart, you’re on the bathroom floor. Let’s get you to bed.”

“My stomach…”

“That’s okay. I’ll get you set up.” Hands took yours and helped you stand.

You gripped his shirt through the short walk. When your bed was in sight, you hurried over to it and collapsed, bundling under the blankets.

You didn’t even notice Toshi left until he came back with a trashcan and towel. After setting them up for you, he asked, “What do you want to drink?”

“Water… and ginger ale.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back. Try to keep your body relaxed.”

You smiled and closed your eyes. Everything inside you suddenly felt completely and utterly drained. Sweating while freezing wasn’t a fun combo to get stuck with. At least your stomach was calm. But even then, it was only a matter of time until you were sick.

Two glasses clinked onto the bedside table. You opened your eyes, took a small sip of water, then put it back, lounging again. Toshi gingerly soothed, “Drink some more.”

You shook your head. It’ll just come back up.

“Honey, you might not want to, but you need to stay hydrated, or at least have something in your stomach so you don’t dry heave and hurt yourself.”

You grumbled and complied, taking a few gulps of water. It salved your sore esophagus that’ll only get rawer as the night continued.

“There you go,” he praised. His rough palm covered your forehead. “You’re hot, but not to the point I should be worried.”

“You’re not worried about my hotness?” you giggled.

“Hmm, I guess delirium can be another symptom,” he smiled, gently dabbing a wet washcloth along your forehead. You leaned into the cloth, letting it cool your skin, falling asleep under its movements and Toshi’s supervision. You’d worry about the upcoming stomach pain when it arrived.

Yamada Hizashi

Very softly and very carefully, Hizashi pressed the towel to your side, patting you dry. The plush towel felt worse than a knife on the raw, red, darkened skin. You tried sitting still while he prodded more of the affected area.

One slightly harder-than-normal pat made you flinch. “Ow!”

“Sorry, baby. I’m just making sure it’s clean and dry.”

“I know.” You grabbed his thigh. “It’s just sensitive. Everywhere is sensitive.”

“Did the bath help at all?”

“A little… It helped with the itching, but the pain…”

Hizashi exhaled heavily as he stood. “I’m sorry you gotta deal with this. Maybe this’ll do a better job.” He turned from the bureau, holding the cream your doctor prescribed.

You really didn’t want to go through more touching, and you weren’t banking on a big difference. But the doctor promised it would numb the area, giving you some relief from the pain. You sighed, “Alright. Be careful?”

“Of course.” After pulling on a pair of gloves, he squeezed the tube to get a good amount on his palm. Your body held tense, flinching when the cream connected with the welt-like bumps. You hissed but kept yourself still. He huffed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Hizashi. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“I know. I know. I just hate seeing you in pain,” he talked low. Two fingers lightly smoothed over skin, dispersing the medication without applying too much pressure or friction. He made sure to cover the irritated area before taking the gloves off. “Okay. All done. It should start working in thirty minutes.”

You sighed again. Thirty minutes was a long way away. Pins and needles aggravated your entire body despite the blisters only being on your right side. And this was going to last over two weeks.

A knuckle brushed your cheek. Blinking away the water, you looked up to his glassy eyes. He kissed your forehead and cradled your chin. “I’m your own personal nurse. Whatever you need, I’ll provide.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby.” He returned to the bureau, shuffling through one of his draws. His hands withdrew a large, old T-shirt and helped you slip it on, heedful of your side and tender skin. It was big enough that you could forego shorts and underwear.

Once set, Hizashi smiled wide and pulled you to your feet. “Now, let’s get some food in your tummy before bed.”

[crab-instruments]

Dust in the Wind Part 8 (tbb)

Master <Part 7 Part 9>

Pairing: Hunter x Secret Jedi! Reader (GN)

Rating and warning: General audience, panic/stress (minimal)

Words: 1.5k

a/n: haha well we don't have time to unpack all that finale, so here's an update of this instead. Fresh off the press and yeeted to tumblr. I'm thinking the next update will have some cool stuff. I hope.

Image credit in the notes

When your eyes opened, you laid there for a bit, taking in the events of yesterday and what some sleep had done to clear the mind. You must have slept well, not even remembering the dreams you had or stirring when others got up, as only Hunter and you were left in the bunks. This was based on assumption by reaching out using the Force, at least, as you hadn’t moved an inch yet.

Being with the Batch had made it easy to settle back into your ‘old life’ or maybe just who you really were, a force user. You were becoming more comfortable, but if you were being honest with yourself, that was a scary thought. It would make leaving so much harder.

You slowly started to move, careful to keep quiet, putting your feet on the cold metal floor. The ship buzzed and hummed through your feet, accentuating the dull pain in your muscles, but the pain had an odd nostalgic feel, something you would be used to after a mission.

Echo, Crosshair, and Wrecker were all out in the main cabin as you approached, all still sleepy, though the sniper was better at hiding it.

Echo handed you a cup and you presumed he said something along the lines of ‘mornin’ but your brain was still fuzzy, not used to the amount of sleep you got. You looked at the contents of the cup; caf that had a stale smell to it and enough water to have your reflection look back at you. Still, you drank it all in one go and then turned to back to the Clone who gave it to you. “Thank you, that was the worst caf I’ve ever had, and I’ve never been more grateful for it.”

Echo chuckled; a small smirk spread across his face. “I see you slept well. Surprised to see Sarg still in bed.” You cocked your head, not sure what he was getting at.

“He is usually up first, not able to sleep when people start waking up,” Wrecker filled in.

“It might have something to do with having more people sleeping comfortably,” Tech had walked from the cockpit. “He has said that when there’s more resting heartbeats around him, he is calmer. He was worried about Maxis so possibly having them closer helped him relax.” Tech had kept his voice even when speaking, but it still felt like there was a hint of something.

“What are you—”

“I came back here to let you know we will be landing soon, and someone should wake Hunter.” He turned around before you could address what you wanted.

Echo had grabbed another cup of caf and handed it out for you to take. “Maxis, would you mind? I have a few other things to do and you’re closer.” You squinted your eyes in skepticism at the Clone for a moment, before taking the cup and walking back to the bunks, making a mental note to corner those two and figure out what they were scheming.

Once you crossed the threshold of the room, you slowed down in front of where Hunter was laying. He had fallen asleep on his stomach, his arms under his pillow, and his face turned away from the wall. No bandana in his hair, you could see how thick his locks are, almost a little envious. Really, it suited him, and he knew it. You lowered yourself to the floor, taking a moment to just study his sleeping face. So calm and handsome, in this state you couldn’t see how much the war had taken its toll on him. It was something you could get used to—

“Mesh’la, staring is impolite.” You would never… ever… admit what his sleepy morning voice did to you in that moment. His voice startled you, sloshing some caf onto the floor. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes when he addressed you, but they stared straight through you now.

Say something! “Um… sorry, I didn’t mean… We just… We’re going to be landing soon.” Smooth, about as smooth as this caf.

Hunter chuckled, amused at the effect he had on you in that moment. Slowly he sat up, swinging his legs carefully over the side of the bunk. You had stood up and took a step back to give him space but were still more or less frozen.

“Is… one of those cups for me? Or do you just really enjoy the dirt caf…”

“Oh, right.” You held out the cup, certainly not loving every second he touched your hand. Holy kriff, you needed to get a grip on your life, or you were going to lose your mind. “Uhm, I’ll just…” you looked back to the doorway but then back at him. “Wait, mesh’la?”

A look of surprise took over Hunter’s face for a hot second before a smile took its place. He shook his head, and responded, “It’s Mando’a, I’ll have to teach you some day.” He stood up and walked past you to the main cabin, obviously still avoiding giving a real answer.

“But that doesn’t… what does it mean?” Hunter had already weaved his way through the ship, leaving you wondering. Maybe I’ll ask Tech about the best way to learn a new language.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Under the ship, you checked and cleaned the landing gear. It had seen better days and probably hadn’t even been washed since the Republic. You worked meticulously, finally able to show more of what you could do now that you didn’t have the possibility of needing a quick escape. The soreness that swam through your muscles sang loudly while you focused, it was clear you needed a break.

Two shadows, one much larger than the other, closed in on the area. Omega didn’t need to crouch all that much as she approached, Wrecker waiting by the side of the ship. “Hey Maxis, you should take a break. Wrecker and I were about to go get our Mantell Mix. It’s a tradition, we get some after every mission.”

You stopped working for a moment. “I didn’t really… I wasn’t a part of the mission. But—”

“You protected the ship from four troopers, I’d say that’s enough to get some Mix.” Wrecker said, with a bit of pride.

“Ah yeah, I guess. Let me put this piece back on and we can go.”

Crawling out from the ship, you wiped the dirt of your pants. Something about Ord Mantell always stuck to you though, but that was a part of its charm. Or that’s what you say to convince yourself. You had explored the market a bit, to pick up supplies and replacements for maintenance, but never really experienced it.

As Omega led the way, you asked, “what exactly is Mantell Mix?”

“Only the best treat in the entire galaxy,” Omega looked back at you, very excited.

“Well, when you mostly have rations, anything would be a treat. Very low bar. I think I’m more concerned about the name, Mantell Mix. A mix of what? Grime and overpriced goods?”

“I think adventure and a hint of sweetness is more like it.”

You chuckled. “Always good at the positive spin, Omega. That’s a good quality.” She beamed.

Once the food was acquired, you could only eat so much of it before deciding that Omega had lied about the ‘hint of sweetness’. But you did your best to show gratitude in being included.

The three of you decided to wander around the open-air shops. You ended up looking at some unrefined gems on display. Not something you would usually stop to look at, but something about the display caught your attention. A crystal, somewhat clear but had a red hue, stuck out.

“See something you like?”

“What… is this?” You pointed to the crystal. “And where did you get it?”

“Ahh, I’m not sure. I travel and trade quite a bit, unfortunately, and don’t remember much about every piece. But if it is to your liking, you should have a closer look.” The owner had a creepy facial expression, you were unsure if they were trying to just sell the item or if they had other motives. But what other motives could they have?

You reached for the crystal but could only hold it for a second due to the extreme pain and pressure you felt from it. Another force echo. Luckily, you pushed yourself out of it quick, only getting a brief glimpse of the horrible feeling, but it stuck to you, sitting heavy on your shoulders. A reminder of the past.

It was a kyber crystal, a synthetic one specifically. This one had been used by a Sith or an apprentice of one, having such a dark and evil aura around the force echo. It made you sick and scared. Suddenly, it felt like all eyes were on you, walls closing in. Fear crept into your mind.

“I’m s-sorry, I have to-… to go.” You swiftly made your way back to the Marauder, leaving Omega and Wrecker behind. The corner you hid in after your fight with the troopers felt like the perfect fit for you at that moment. You curled up in a ball as tightly as you could and hummed to yourself.

It took a while, but everyone made their way back and Hunter was discussing about their next mission that would take place in a few rotations.

Part 9

________________________________________________________________

Notes:

Mando'a: I assume if you're reading this, you know, but here's a link anyway.

Synthetic Lightsaber/Kyber crystal: One of my favorite things I learned about lightsabers is that the Sith used synthetic crystals and synthetic crystals are normally red, leading to the Sith having mostly red lightsabers. I don't know if that's still considered canon anymore, but for me it is. Image credit

Tag List: @rintheemolion @xxspqcebunsxx @salamidraws @lokigirlszendaya

If you want to be added to the tag list, just ask in the most convenient way for you or by faxing me a picture of a crab

[cleanlenins]

Going Angst Week: Day One

Birth/Creation

Read on AO3

He had the best friends. He knew that, and he was always grateful. More grateful than he had ever been able to express to them. They had been with him through the really hard times. The hardest times of his life.

When he had lost his scholarship because of his own stupidity, they had helped him get a job so he didn't have to drop out and move back home. Working at the Packers Stadium could be hard, but he got free tickets! He would often drag his friends with him. All three of them decked out in green and gold, shouting their support until they were hoarse. They would all collapse in his apartment after the game,a big pile on the stained second-hand couch that would creak under their combined weight.

When he had struggled with picking a major, they had encouraged him to do what he was passionate about. It was his life to live. They gave him the courage to stand up to his dad, and change from the Business Course to Ectobiology. He had never been more happy or more terrified. Even through his father's scathing insults, he never felt more sure of himself.

When he had made the decision to get away from his family for good, they were there every step of the way. He would never be good enough in his mom's eyes, always second place to his younger brother. The outcast and loser. Nothing more than a mistake. But his friends helped him see that he didn't deserve to be treated like that. Even helped him pick out a new last name when he finally scrounged enough cash to get it changed legally. Masters. Maddie had said it was fitting for someone who had now become the master of his own life. Jack just pouted because Fenton had been thrown out so quickly.

Vlad wanted to laugh at the memory. All he could manage was a painful wheeze against the oxygen mask on his face. Every breath was a nightmare, like breathing in the fires of hell. He imagined he could feel each tongue of flame licking the inside of his chest. Consuming him. The liquid that filled his lungs did nothing to quench the burn. Only succeeding in making the once natural response so unbearably hard. He struggled to draw another breath. And another.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He didn't know what had gone wrong with the proto-portal. He hadn't expected it to turn on when it did. He had merely been inspecting the hardware, making sure that there were no loose wires or misplaced panels. Then there was so much green light. And his face! The painful welts were the least of it. Ectoplasm was radioactive, even if only mildly. He couldn't put Jack and Maddie in danger, too. What if it spread? He couldn't do that.

He had gone straight to the hospital. Driving had been hard, as he was blinded by the constant water pouring from his eyes. He would like to lie to himself and say it was only because of the damage done to his eyes. That the ecto-burns had damaged the tearducts and were causing his eyes to water. That he was stronger than crying from pain. Maddie would say that was the sort of toxic foolishness his dad had drilled into him. She was usually right about that sort if thing.

He had lost his vision a week after the accident. Everything had faded, a red tint that grew darker and covered his whole field of vision before he could see nothing. He had cried, the salty tears stinging against the open sores on his face.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He knew that he wasn't allowed guests. That the doctors and nurses had to wear specialized PPE, as no one was sure how the unknown substance would affect the people around him. Government mandated. But Vlad knew better. Rules would not stop Jack Fenton from coming to see him. Jack had helped Vlad break into his parents' house to retrieve some of his stuff. Jack was not a stealthy man, though, and they were caught immediately. It was a good thing Maddie's Grandad was a well-respected Officer, otherwise they would have ended up in jail. They needn't of bothered breaking in, anyway. His parents had already thrown away all of his stuff.

So he knew. He didn't have a single doubt. Any second, he would hear the booming voice of his best friend coming down the hallway. The door would slam open, the hinges nearly ripped from the wall. He probably wouldn't get to stay more than five minutes before he was kicked out, but the amount of life Jack could bring in a room was limitless. Vlad knew that when his friend got here, he would find the strength to pull through this. The pain would be like nothing.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Maddie would be more subtle. She might even get to stay for an hour before she was noticed. And Vlad would treasure it. He had hoped she would show up before he had completely lost his ability to speak, the radiation had completely fried his vocal chords after the first month. After a month and a half he had lost all muscle function in his face and had to be intubated. 

But he would find a way to confess his feelings. He didn't know when his feelings of friendship and admiration had changed to romantic feelings, but he wanted her to know. He needed her to know. She was the one that always berated him for hiding his feelings from them. She had given more than one lecture about how friends should rely on each other, and that he didn't need to hide how he felt from them. She would always accept him, no matter what.

He hadn't been able to move his fingers for the past week, but he knew that when she walked in he would find the strength to write out his feelings. Even if he had to tap it in morse code. She had taught him how to do that. It would almost be poetic.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He didn't know how he had survived without Jack and Maddie. The neglect he had suffered from his parents had seemed normal, had seemed like love before he had met his friends. It was like being raised on bread and water, and suddenly being presented a feast. With them, he could do anything. He was in control of his life. When they got here, everything would work out. He knew he would have a long recovery period. But they would help him every step of the way, just like they always had.

He missed them so much.

He was so tired.

He should rest a bit, for when they get here. He didn't want to sleep the whole time.

Breathe in.

Bre----

[yourmidnightlover]

pain reliever

TW: descriptive talk abt period cramps ig?, talk abt cysts, mutual pining lol

Summary: in which spencer and Y/N love each other but refuse to tell each other. Y/N's having major period pain, the effect of a cyst, and spencer comes over to comfort her.

WC: 3,744

A/N - this one’s a bit of a rollercoaster. it has three different POV’s so just bear with me please!

masterlist

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don't get me wrong, working at the BAU is amazing and definitely has it's perks, but it also has several downsides too. one of those pesky little downsides includes the amount of time off we have.

meaning we don't have much downtime.

this was one of the rare occasions when we were able to have two weeks off, the result of a very strenuous case.

this time was so exciting, spencer and i planned to go out to a movie he'd been dying to see. nobody else wanted to go with him and were being absolute jerks about it, so i automatically stepped up to go with him.

i went to bed the night before we were supposed to go out after showering. i was actually excited to be able to spend some time with him.

i couldn't help but begin to have feelings for him soon after i joined the team. i mean, who would be able to resist those amazing curls, the sweet smile, kind spirit, not to even mention how smart he is.

he didn't know that, of course. and i planned for him to never know. i was able to keep it a secret for 5 and a half years, and i didn't plan on stopping that streak anytime soon. i didn't want to ruin the friendship i had with him by confessing my undying love for him only to confirm my fears of it being unrequited.

i woke up groaning, the effect of an intense pain on my neck, back, and uterus. I almost immediately knew what that meant, sadly.  

i ran to the bathroom, only to find my suspicions confirmed. my period has always been irregular but about a year ago, i started getting terrible cramps when it wasn't anywhere close to the time for my period.

i went to the doctor to find out a cyst had grown on my left ovary so i started taking birth control per my doctor's request. the only thing about the birth control i was on was that it made me sick when i was on the green pill, so i had to stop taking it.

not taking it meant my period was always a surprise. but hey... at least i wasn't pregnant i guess.

when i took the birth control, it also lessened the cramps. not taking it also brought them back. sometimes not even the extra strength mydol was able to subside the terrible cramps that would ripple throughout my body.

those cramps meant that i needed to cancel my plans with spencer. i could only hope he wouldn't take it as me not wanting to spend time with him.

although, i certainly didn't want him to see me like this.

i decided i would take a shower in attempt to wash the dirty feeling off of my body. I could just call him after i got out and tell him i have a bug or something.

i took my time washing myself, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles. cysts normally only affect the uterus area and cause discomfort at most times, but it always becomes severely worse during that time of the month.

luckily, my doctors helped create an appointment for a procedure to remove the cyst. the only catch being that the appointment is still 6 months away.

i finished showering and wrapped a towel around my body before popping two mydol's in my mouth and swallowing. i grabbed my cell and quickly dialed spencer's name.

"Y/N! hi. what's up?" he asked sweetly. i could hear the excitement in his voice.

"hey, spence," i started, already feeling terrible for the sad news. "i won't be able to go out today. i really, really wish i could. i came down with something and don't think i'm well enough to go out. i'm so sorry," i murmured, already regretted having to cancel.

"oh... that's okay. are you alright? do you need me to take you to the doctor?" he asked all worried. i giggled softly.

"no, that's alright, spence. thank you though. i think i'm probably just gonna get some house work done in the meantime," i declared with a sigh.

"you're planning on cleaning when you're sick? another reason to never doubt the strength of a woman, i suppose," he quipped, another laugh erupting from my chest, this one being louder.

"that, spencer reid, is why you're my best friend," i said with a smile.

"that and the fact that you actually listen to my incessant babbling and rambles," he remarked.

"i actually happen to enjoy those rambles, doctor. don't sell yourself short," I demanded in a sweet tone.

"thank you, Y/N. you should get some rest. don't overexert yourself," he said sweetly. "in all the years i've known you you've only been sick a number of times, so i would imagine you really don't feel too well," he declared. "goodbye."

"goodbye, spencer. s-sorry again," I stammered out.

I hung up the phone before actually getting dressed in some proper underwear. I threw on some loose shorts and skipped putting a bra on, my boobs were really sore, opting for just throwing a tank top on.

i started with doing the dishes from last night. the medicine was kind of kicking in, not fully taking the stabbing pain away but lessening it enough to where it would be manageable.

once the dishes were done i started doing the laundry, taking breaks in-between loads. during the breaks i made sure to drink a lot of water to stay hydrated.

part of me was debating going to the store to pick up some dark chocolate, ice cream, kale chips, and some chinese, but i decided against it.

i'm sure if i went out i would immediately regret it and have the pain 10x worse, just because that's my luck. so, suffering alone it was.

once i finished all of the laundry, i sat down on the couch. i had been going for about three hours, and definitely felt the toll it was taking on my body.

i turned on FRIENDS and grabbed a heating pad from a bin in my living room. i placed the pad on my upper back and groaned at the heat.

before i knew it, i was dead asleep.

SPENCER'S POV

i didn't buy it.

she never gets sick, and when she does it's like she's dying. she doesn't laugh when she's sick, and her voice wasn't as nasally.

don't get me wrong, something was obviously wrong with her, but she wasn't sick sick. maybe another sick.

what else would cause her to cancel plans with me? she's never done that before.

although, there was one time where she mentioned her needing to go to the doctor for a consult about a cyst. maybe it was the cyst?

wait... her uterus. the cyst was on her uterus.

we were on a case a couple months back, and this unsub was hard to track down. when we managed to figure out where he was, she ended up having to chase him down. she had to run a mile for at least 7 minutes before actually getting him. he was only 25 and was an exercise fanatic.

after catching the guy and bringing him in she had a hard time hiding her discomfort. even at the station, abut an hour later, she was still grabbing her lower stomach in pain. when i asked her what was wrong she told me about the cyst and where it was.

although, the cyst never really affected her energy level since then. she was able to go out on cases and perform perfectly fine.

the only thing that it could've been would be her- ohhh!!

oh...

i should get her something. food. she loves food.

she's probably in a lot of pain right now because of that. she shouldn't have to handle that pain 24/7. she was so sweet, and caring, and generous, and loving, and undeserving of any sort of discomfort.

to be honest, i've had the largest crush on her since after she joined the BAU. who wouldn't?

she's such an amazing person. just being around her lightens my mood. not to mention her beauty. don't get me wrong, i absolutely love her mind and everything about her personality, but the beauty she beholds is beyond anything i've ever encountered. then again, maybe the feelings i have for her boost that beauty in my eyes.

it was that beauty that kept me quiet. why would someone with beauty as ethereal as hers even look at a guy like me? it's like she's not meant for this world. she's too good for this world.

i'm in too deep now to share my feelings. i would do anything to keep her light in my life, even if that meant keeping all my love for her bottled up.

my heart ached at the thought of her in pain that i can't help her subside. the least i could do is be there for her.

i quickly grabbed my keys- yes, that's right. i'm driving for her. what kind of man am i?- and headed out of my apartment.

i went to the grocery store and picked up some of her favorites, dark chocolate, mint chip ice cream, kale chips, and... chinese. she loves chinese, so surely that's what she's craving. if she doesn't want it i would gladly get her whatever it is she does want.

i would give her the entire world if i could.

after picking the items up, i made my way to her place and pulled her key out of my pocket after she didn't answer my knock the first couple times. We had both decided to give each other a copy of our keys for safety purposes, result of me becoming the designated driver after a girl's night out gone wrong.

long story short, all the girls left with someone, leaving Y/N stranded at a heavily populated bar. if the girls weren't drunk when they left then i know i would've scolded them for leaving her in such danger. hell, they were FBI agents and left a friend who wasn't in her right mind alone in the middle of the night.

the only reason i was able to pick her up was because she drunkingly called me, slurring her words together. that's a story for another time.

i held the bags in one hand and the chinese food under my arm while i unlocked the door and quitely walked in. i saw her laying down on the couch, looking so peaceful.

SECOND PERSON

spencer looked at you as you slept. he noticed the heating pad laying on your back as your face was partially smushed from the couch. he'd never seen anything so adorable.

he pushed a strand of hair out of your face as he gently tapped your shoulders to wake you. you squinted at him in confusion for a second before you finally spoke.

"spencer? wh-what're you doing here?" you questioned him in disbelief.

you had no idea why he was here. you had told him you couldn't go out, right?

"me being the amazing profiler i am figured out what was actually wrong," he gloated. "i brought your favorite snacks and came with chinese food. if you want something else i could always go back out and-"

"did you drive?" you squeaked.

"why wouldn't i? you're in pain right now, that's the least i could do to somehow help you," he gushed.

you felt tears pricking your eyes at his confession. how could someone be so selfless and kind as to put themselves though something they hate doing for you?

"hey-hey, what is it?" he worriedly questioned.

"i-it's just... th-that's so sweet, and nice, and you hate driving, and you're such an amazing person, and i don't deserve you," you sniffled out, the tears flowing past my eyes as you sat up on the couch to give him a place to sit.

He grabbed the heating pad that fell off your back and set it on the coffee table before wiping your tears. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as you lightly cried into his shirt for a few minutes before pulling back.

"sorry about your shirt," you whined.

"don't worry about it. and i truly think it's me who doesn't deserve you, Y/N," he said softly. "now, let's dig into the food. i'm actually hungry right now, i had to smell it the entire way here and it's been taunting me ever since," he said seriously, eliciting another laugh out of you. "oh! there she is! i love hearing your laugh," he smiled.

"oh, you're just saying that," you waved him off as he feigned offense with a loud gasp.

"are you accusing me of lying, Y/N? i'm terribly offended," he shot his hand over his heart in an attempt to mock pain as he groaned.

"i would never, spencie," you taunted with a smirk before getting an actual cramp.

your face contorted slightly in pain as you bent over in an attempt to ease the discomfort. it felt like someone was stabbing your entire lower stomach and punching you all at once. the pain and sudden movement made your head begin to throb intensely, so you didn't know where to put your hands. your stomach or head? you chose stomach.

spencer felt horrible as he watched you go through such pain.

"what hurts, Y/N/N? let me help you," spencer pleaded.

"head. really bad," you groaned.

he got behind you as his hands found your temples and began massaging them gently, being able to subside the pain pulsing in your head. while your stomach still hurt, the pain became bearable again, allowing you to sit up and face spencer. he saw that your eyes were full of tears once again and his arms flew around you.

he hated that you had to go through that... every month too? your pain tolerance has always been high, something spencer learned after you got shot in the thigh and didn't even shed a tear, so he knew the fact that tears were in your eyes had meant the pain had to be terrible.

"food?" he said softly, you nodded eagerly, still being wary of the headache.

he went into your kitchen and put away the ice cream, chocolate, and kale chips before getting the chinese. he grabbed you a water bottle from your fridge before exiting the kitchen and sitting beside you on the couch.

"why didn't you tell me they were this bad?" spencer wondered.

"i didn't want you to worry, or see me like this," you shrugged.

it was true, you hated anyone seeing you hurt or weak. you prided yourself on being tough and strong enough to withstand most things. the fact that a measly monthly period was breaking you hurt your ego more than you'd like to admit.

for spencer, he didn't care. the only thing he wanted to do was make sure you were okay and be there for you when you weren't. he was determined to help you through this time. it made him feel... important. he enjoyed caring for others as it gave him a sense of purpose.

"Y/N, i don't care what state you're in. i always enjoy seeing you. and i'm always here to help you. asking for help makes you stronger than you'd think," he soothed you.

one thing you loved about him was that he always had a way with words. he was able to make you feel safe in the most dangerous situations, calm in the most chaotic, comfortable in the most destitute, and all with words.

you ate your food rather quickly after realizing you hadn't eaten all day. you were unashamed of eating that much, too. you'd become so comfortable with him over the years that you didn't feel embarrassed over something as routine as eating as you normally would with others.

after spencer finished eating he insisted on cleaning up rather than you do it yourself.

and to think, you thought you couldn't fall deeper in love with the man and here you were, falling deeper the longer he stayed.

little did you know that spencer was already madly in love with you.

he came back and sat beside you gently, looking at you with the utmost adoration that you couldn't see since you were back to being doubled over in pain.

"let's get you laid down, hmm?" spencer suggested as he gently rubbed your back.

"mhmm," you agreed, sitting up far too quickly. your back shot out in pain as you tried to straighten out, bringing a groan to your lips and causing you to twist your torso in an attempt to avoid any more hurt. "i guess i can just stay here," you said, resuming the doubled-over position.

spencer wanted to cry himself seeing you so defeated. you were the most strong-willed person he knew and here you were, giving up on something. he wouldn't let that happen.

"you'll be more comfortable in the bed. i'll carry you since you can't get up, okay?" spencer suggested.

you hummed in defeat as he swiftly scooped you up, leaving your body folded up as you swung your arms around his neck. he laid you down on the bed gently as you groaned at your back stretching out.

"turn over on your stomach," spencer ordered.

"wh-what? why?" you wondered.

"you'll see when you do it, ms. stubborn-pants," he teased.

you groaned and flopped onto your stomach, reaching to cuddle the pillow your head was resting on. spencer secretly wished he was that pillow.

his hands fell onto your back, applying light pressure right between your shoulder blades.

"ohh, this is what you were gonna do," you hummed in content as his hands continued to work their magic. he gathered your hair and pulled it to the side as he worked his way up to your neck. "ugh that feels amazing, spence," you groaned.

spencer huffed a laugh at your enthusiasm, him being happy that he can subside some of your pain. if doing something as simple as giving you a massage made you happy, he was happy.

spencer worked his hands back down to your shoulders and worked out nearly every single knot on your back. you felt your breathing slow from the relaxation and didn't even realize how good of a distraction your hands on her body were. if only you could massage my boobs, you thought with a laugh.

"umm... what?" spencer questioned.

"hmm?" you questioned, suddenly realizing that you had said that out loud. "i didn't say anything," you said, your voice raising an octave as you spoke.

spencer knew what he had heard, but decided to drop it to make you more comfortable.

"right, sorry," he said with a smile. maybe you did have feelings for him.

he continued the massage and noticed you were asleep after about ten more minutes. He sighed as he watched your hair move with each breath you took. he relished in the fact that he helped you achieve something, that he was useful for something.

"god, i love you so much," he whispered. "i love you so much, i don't even think i could tell you how much i truly love you."

you were awake. you heard him. you heard every word. you were in that weird between stage when you weren't really asleep, but you weren't necessarily awake either.

"i love you too, spencer," you spoke.

spencer shot up at your words, realization hitting him as you stirred in what he assumed was your sleep. you rolled over onto your back and looked into his eyes.

"i love you so, so much, spence," you smiled, noticing the shocked look on his face.

"y-you do?" he babbled.

"of course i do. how could i not?" you quipped, noticing his utter nervousness.

"i-i can't believe it. you love me?"

"how many times do i have to say it? i love you, spencer reid. i love you," you said as the shocked expression on his face turned into one of pure happiness and joy.

"i love you, Y/N Y/L/N. i've loved you for so long..." he trailed off, bringing your body into his arms.

"and fyi, i mean the romantic way if you didn't catch that," you joked.

"good because that's exactly how i meant it," he said, pulling back to look at you once again. "ca-can i kiss you?" he asked as his hands were balanced on the back of your neck.

you nodded eagerly before his lips crashed into yours passionately as you placed your hands on his face. the feeling of his sharp jawline with his scruffy facial hair something you've been wanting to feel against your skin for far too long.

spencer tugged gently at your hair, bringing a soft moan to your lips, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth gingerly. he was immediately granted dominance as you allowed his tongue to travel into your mouth, investigating it thoroughly.

you were both in a state of euphoria as you delved into each other's presence in a new manner. both of you knew this discovery would change your relationship, but you had both gone through every scenario in your minds in the many years' past.

you finally pulled back at another sharp pain in your uterus.

"ouchhh," you grimaced.

"are you okay? what can i do?" he wondered eagerly.

"just cuddle with me?" you asked with pleading eyes.

"of course i can," he smiled.

he moved up to the headboard and laid his head on one of your pillows after getting underneath the covers. after he opened his arms, you rested your head on his chest and threw one arm over his torso, interlacing your legs underneath the sheets. he brought one arm around your waist as the other drew you closer across your shoulders. You nestled your head into his neck and inhaled his comforting scent.

"you smell good," you giggled.

"thank you," he laughed at your compliment.

"spencer?" you asked.

"yea, Y/N?"

"you're my pain reliever."

[fabricated-misslieness]

Yoru x male reader

Got this idea from a tiktok. btw I have no idea if blunt force can cause a split lip.

Pre-VALORANT Protocol and Kingdom creation, a short time after First Light. This entire thing is a lot of headcanons

Requested: No

Word Count: 2,305

Warnings: making out, cat cockblocking cause she wants food, sparring, split lip, blood, a bit of sadomasochism, bottom & masochist Yoru, sadistic reader, very very suggestive

16+

His lungs were begging for air, his knees were close to giving in, his skin felt like it was burning, his arms were sore. It was no matter of time before he was on the ground again, your foot on his chest. He was starting to like this point of view.

Though he doesn’t get to cherish it much longer because you’re off of him quickly.

“You don’t block properly.” You state, wiping the sweat off your face with the bottom of your shirt. Yoru, despite all his exhaustion, wolf whistles as he stares at your exposed skin. You ignore him, seeing as this one was on you, unlike all the previous ones. “No offense-only can win in my arena.”

“Manly Jackie?” He suggests. Manly Jackie was once a participant of your arena. As most champions with awful alliances, his reign did not last long.

“He was once a champion, yes, but he was beaten by somebody with good balance. Coerce had both good and offensive qualities. Jackie ate shit that match.” You chuckle at the memory.

Yoru shrugs, standing up. Pain sears on his skin when he gets back on his feet, but he ignores it. If he wants to be in your arena, he has to be ‘eligible’. And boy, did he not meet your conditions. “Another round.”

You had to give it to him, he had courage. After all, he’d asked the boss of an arena to train him by sparring. But the courage blinded him; either that, or he just pushed right through the pain.

That ‘First Light’ event had given him a lot more courage than he already had. He had gotten powers from it, and he figured they’d be useful in battle. 

You see, Yoru had a lot of connections. He was the guy on the block that always got into trouble, yet he always managed to weasel out of it thanks to his connections. Though most of the trouble was caused by his connections, because that meant that his connections; enemies were his enemies. He was stuck in a loop, getting beat up by his connections’ enemies, then saved by his connections.

That was why he came to you. He wanted to get skills in fighting, not only to avoid his own demise from his connections’ enemies, but also to gain money. Your champions got rewards, and he was running a little low on funds.

It had been a while since the First Light happened, which gave you the right amount of time to decide whether to invite these new ‘superpowered’ people into your arena. You’d decided on yes, but these new people had to meet the conditions that the normal fighters did, skill and muscle.

He had some muscle, along with potential, but you wouldn't admit that; a big ego isn't a good trait for a beginner to have, even though he already had one.

You raise an eyebrow, “Tenth time I knock you off your feet, yet you’re still getting back up. I can tell you’re tired, Yoru.” He loved it when you said his given name, although it was the only one he gave to you. “This time you might just last 5 minutes.” 

“I’m fine with lasting 5 minutes.” He winks.

“Sorta pathetic if you do,” You look him up and down and see him shrink under your gaze. “both ways.” Yoru smirks. He likes when you flirt back, though he can’t tell if you mean it. 

“Sure you don’t just want to sit down for a while?” You gesture to the couch at the back of the room.

“I’m sure.”

Your living room was more of a gym than anything. Being the boss meant you got a steady income; you had a big apartment. You had a couch, yes, but anything else that’s part of a lounging area was nonexistent. Although, the room didn’t look quite good, with the couch standing out amongst the gym equipment and the kitchen having barely enough working space.

When Yoru first saw it, he questioned it. As the boss, he expected you to have many visits from ‘business partners’ of sorts. He’d assumed you did them in your own home, rather than anywhere else, which is dumb on his end.

"I don't get many visits.” You’d replied, after clearing up the business meeting part.

"I highly doubt that. With the way you look, I figured you got plenty of feminine visitors." He might just have killed his chances with you.

"Feminine, perhaps." Feminine submissive men, that is. He didn't know that, and you didn't feel like coming out to an acquaintance of yours. "But not all that often. Besides, they don’t stay for long.”

You regretted entertaining his perverted head, since that had sparked many more pick up lines from him. At least you believed it did, you didn’t know if he would’ve otherwise.

Yoru barely manages to dodge your punch, though before he can recover, you take his momentary vulnerability to strike again. He doesn’t have the reflexes to react. The air is knocked out of his lungs, and he doubles over in pain, yet he doesn’t tap out. You expect him to, which is why you don’t punch him again, but it gives him a moment to get back at you.

He punches your stomach, but at this point he’s so weak and exhausted that it barely hurts. You’re not one to take pity though. Over the years, you’d learned that mercy did not make good business in an underground job.

This blow is hard, then again all of them are hard, though this one seemed to do something different.

That something is knocking him out.

When he regains consciousness, he's laying down on your couch. You're on the other side of the room, leaning against your kitchen counter and rewrapping your knuckles.

"How long was I out?" He asks immediately, only to find that his jaw aches when he speaks.

"A few minutes." You reply, you don’t look up at him, nor do you seem surprised that he’d woken up. “A bit uncommon, though you’re only a rookie. In a few months, you’ll eat that kind of blow like it was any other.”

"You have no technique, your punches are too obvious, your blocks are easy to break, and you don't know your limits." You list off his weaknesses. “Don’t let that ego of yours get to your head.” They felt more like insults than constructive criticism.

Yoru huffs in frustration, though mentally taking note of them. Thanks to his arrogance, he thought he’d be a natural. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked the boss after all. He licks his lips as he thinks, it’s only then that he finds his bottom one is split. "Hey, (y/n)?" You look at him, he points towards his lips. "A little help?"

You sigh but gesture him to come to you. You take note of how his walk is a little eager as he walks to sit on the stool next to you.

You take his chin in your hand to tilt it up and inspect his lip, though you have no problem with diagnosing the problem. "Split lip."

"You know, I heard that you need to apply pleasure to a bleeding lip to fix it." His tone suggests he's not going to do it himself, as well as something else you definitely catch yet you ignore. He most certainly wasn't saying it innocently, instead, it was quite flirtatious.

"And what are you suggesting?" You can't help but flirt back. He's handsome, which is part of his charm, but you can't say you didn't enjoy beating up his pretty little face earlier; and not in the 'putting someone cocky down' kinda way.

“Put some kinda pressure on my lips.” Yoru elaborates.

You can’t help but laugh a little, “Okay, let me just get a rag.” You move away from him, but Yoru tugs you back, putting a hand on the back of your neck. Before you can say anything else, he kisses you. He's impatient and it's clear, he couldn’t stand you playing around anymore.

The blood from his busted lip would be discouraging, if you weren't lowkey sadistic. On the other hand, Yoru feels pain with every move of your lips against his own. He seems to like it though. He's had his fair share of hook ups, but never had pain been a part of them. It was new and thrilling to feel a sting of both pain and pleasure.

You, with all the experience you have, bite his bottom lip to ask for permission to deepen the kiss, forgetting Yoru's situation. You pull back, fully expecting a whine and complaint, but you find a moan instead. You'd never expected to find a masochist to your sadist, least of all him, but you took the opportunity.

"You liked that?" You chuckle. “Pain?”

"Oh, shut up." Yoru groans. He doesn't like to be on the receiving end of teasing, which is an unlikely pair to his masochism. “But, yes.”

You laugh again, only to take his lips moments after. You're heated in lip lock when you decide you're tired of this position, leaning down is a little tiring. With seemingly no effort at all, you lift him up. Yoru wraps his legs around your waist instinctively, pulling back from your kiss with a gasp. "Hey!" He whines, only to be interrupted by a moan when your hands dig into his ass.

"Now where do you want to go?" You give him a flirtatious smile. "Bedroom, traditional but I can't blame you; couch, more comfortable for the both of us; or counter? High chance of getting bent over." Your words send a shiver down his spine. 

He liked this new, flirtatious you. Before, you were a mere connection which he’d gotten from running errands for you every now and then. They were mundane tasks, and as boss, you had to keep your intimidating, serious composure. Naturally, it made him want to crack you, see who you were when nobody was looking at you. Obviously, your personality was not flirting, although at least it wasn’t the aforementioned. Hopefully he’d find out more the next morning.

"Counter." Yoru mutters. He hopes to god that you don't make him repeat himself with the fake excuse that you hadn't heard him.

Thankfully, you don't, instead bringing him to sit on top of the counter. Your hands are no longer on his ass, something he disliked, but he can't really blame you for it. He starts kissing you again, hungry and yearning. His fingers tug at your hair restlessly, legs still around your waist pulling you closer to him.

He wants more, and you’ll gladly give it to him.

You bite his bottom lip again, making him open his mouth with a gasp. You take advantage of the moment, sliding your tongue in his mouth. Your hands slip under his shirt, caressing his skin absentmindedly. The rough feeling of your hand wrap contrasts against your soft yet calloused fingers, yet it felt good all the same. Yoru finds your touch leaving a burning feeling, suddenly finding himself hot and bothered.

He pulls back, much to your mutual dismay. Before you can ask, he takes off his shirt, clearing your confusion. “Oh.”

Yoru laughs, “Oh.” He mocks you.

You tsk, silencing him with your lips before he can tease you further. Yoru’s disappointed by the fact you don’t play with his chest anymore, seeing as he discarded of his shirt for that purpose. He takes your hands and slides them up his abdomen, leaving you to figure out the rest. He’s disappointed when you pull back just to laugh.

“That eager, huh?” Yoru, instead of avoiding your gaze like other people would, looks you head on with a look that says ‘so what?’. It makes you laugh again, “Alright, alright.”

You peck him on the lips, which confuses him a little, until you pepper kisses down to his neck. He groans as you do, hands trailing up to your hair and tugging your head further down. “Jeez.” You mutter, but continue anyway. Meanwhile, your hands trail up to his nipples and play with them. Once again, your hand wraps cause different textures and feelings.

You kiss and bite at his neck, leaving marks. Some of them are stained with blood, though that comes from kissing his cut lips.

Before you can continue doing anything else, though, you hear a meow. Both of you stop and  turn to look down, seeing your cat looking up at you two. Immediately, the mood dies down, because you can’t just make out in front of your floofy child.

Yoru unwraps his legs from your waist, allowing you to bend down and reach out to pet her. Instead of accepting the pets, she reaches out to swat you with her claws. Unfortunately, you don’t react quick enough, even with those reflexes of yours. You hiss, clutching your hand. Yoru laughs while you give him side eye with a huff, “It’s her dinner time.”

You move towards the cabinets, where you keep her food. He watches you as you prepare it from the counter. 

For a moment, you sit in silence, but he doesn’t like that. "If you can't make fun of me 5 seconds after making out with me, who even are you?"

You chuckle and comply. "You know, if you had chosen the bedroom, the cat wouldn't have bothered us." You think it over for a few seconds. "Well, she would've, but the sound of her slashing at my door would've been drowned out by the bed creaking."

Yoru flushes red, even though he’d actually asked you to tease him. “Then let’s go there afterwards.”

You shrug, “It depends on if you get me in the mood again.”

[honeypirate]

bestie bestie bakugou

Bakugou and fem!reader, best friends, roommates, loveeee

Warning - swears, mentions of sex

You were walking around the city for hours now, you left the apartment just before sundown and now it’s raining and you think you see the light from the sun turning the clouds lighter on the horizon. You came home after a long day of work, of fighting a villain, of almost not making it back this time, to find your boyfriend, who you didnt even live with mind you, fucking someone else on your bed. You didn’t say anything, you just walked out, quietly, he didn’t even notice. 

The buzzing in your hand caught your attention, making you aware of the heaviness of something in your palm, you raise it to see and then remember it’s your phone. The action causes it to wake up, showing your notifications, 50 missed calls from him and almost as many texts and double the amount of calls and texts from your two best friends

The screen catches the water from the rain as it flows down the surface, you try to unlock your phone, a sudden urge to not be alone hitting you, but your thumb was too cold and wet to unlock with the fingerprint. You go to press in the buttons but the screen doesnt recognize your fingers either, you’re starting to panic, to hyperventilate when the screen lights up, you relax seeing the name pop up and try to answer but you were shaking so much, you brought the phone to your lips, sticking your tongue out to click the green button. 

“Fucking bastard is going to die” he says as he wraps you in a towel, pulling you to his chest, “y/n im so sorry. You’re staying here with me for now on, i’ll go to your place tomorrow and get some of your things and get your key back from that fucker.” he was pissed, fuming, you haven't seen him this mad since high school “Katsuki i couldn't possibly put you out” he holds his finger to your lips “shut up, im insisting, plus this place is too big for just me” you chuckle through the shivers that are now finding your body, your skin and bones finally reacting to the cold as your body shakes uncontrollably. “T-t-thank you K-Kacchan” he sighs and takes your hand, pulling you with him down the hall to the bathroom. 

After a really nice shower, you exit his big ass fancy shower that was really more like a spaceship, you had to use a step stool to get inside it. It had multiple different heads, a steam option, and could even convert into a jacuzzi, if only you didn’t feel like a bath was too close to being a ‘you’ flavored soup. 

You find a change of clothes for you waiting on his bed, a pair of his sweats and one of his shirts, you brought them to your nose, taking a deep breath. They smelled like downey, the yellow kind your parents used to use, it smelt comforting. You slip on his clothes and feel like you’re getting a hug from him. 

When you make it back to the kitchen you have the shivers again, your wet hair making your back wet. He takes one look at you, arms hugged around your body, and he throws you over his shoulder and takes you right back to his room. He sets you down on the bed and then takes a hold of his hood and pulls his hoodie off, shoving it down over your head. “I’m making you some tea and then you are going to talk to me more if you feel like it okay?” you nod with a small smile as you pop your arms through the sleeves. 

Its been six months, Bakugou has helped you heal through your pain, he got you some things from your apartment and got your key back. He also officially, and with pleasure, told your ex to fuck off, that it was over and to never contact you again, with too many threats to count. He really enjoyed it and wanted to do it for a long time but he’d never tell you that. You cut your ex out of your life, easily letting him go because if you caught him cheating once who knows how long he did it, you were 100% okay with never seeing him again, the hard part was waiting for the feelings to go away, to rid yourself of the habit that was your ex. 

You tried to go back to your apartment after a few weeks, it was fine for the most part, you found a completely new bed in your room courtesy of Bakugou and although he denies it wholeheartedly you know no one else would have done that,... but after a few days you called Bakugou, telling him that it just felt empty and that it didn’t feel like your home anymore, he invited you to move in immediately and you never looked back. 

Your new bed and all the furniture you didn't sell sit proudly in the spacious spare bedroom at Bakugous apartment. He was right, this apartment was way too big for one person.

Bakugou had girls over periodically and you didn’t mind them at first, you even made them breakfast sometimes, on the off chance Bakugou slept late and didn’t kick them out immediately. He’s never liked the morning after, the girls he has dated were just to fill the hole in his soul made by the feelings he has developed for you. He’s trying to find one that makes him feel as electric as you make him feel. 

After a month of random girls you start to notice yourself resenting the girls you hear him with, the way they fake moan in the bedroom, loudly just so you will hear and then they will give you evil stares as they walk out in the morning. You asked Yao-Momo for some advice once, calling her after you hear another loud girl as you went to the kitchen for some ice cream, losing your appetite you left the ice cream on the counter and just left the kitchen (just eyerolling when he tried to give you shit about it) . “just ask him to stop” you sigh “I cant do that. I dont want to cause him any trouble. I just dont know why he has to go for girls like that” you fake throw up and she laughs “y/n do you think you like bakugou?” she asks and you gasp “of course not! He’s my best friend! And hes bakugou! I couldnt possibly…” you pause for a while as you think, were you really discovering feelings for the blasty explosion boy? This was such a rub. She just laughs at you from over the phone “unclench your jaw y/n. Dont be so tense” you realize shes right as you release your teeth, relaxing your face and jaw “you know me so well” you say with a laugh “of course i do. I’m your real best friend. Not some ill tempered boy. If you like him great, tell him and he’ll stop fucking randoms or if you dont like him tell him to stop fucking randoms so loud” you laugh “so wise Yao-momo, me lovely sensei Yao-Momo” she laughs at you before you guys have to hang up, both having work in the morning. 

After the next few days you realized just how in love you were with him, getting more and more annoyed with the girls he brought home, not even noticing that they were showing up less and less, pretty soon the random girls have stopped coming over all together, not that you knew that, you still heard what seemed to be sex noises from his room every once in a while, you just assumed he kicked them out right after, not that he was thinking about you and … you know wink wink  

Another six months later  you’re with him on a mission, the villains just keep coming wave after wave, a quirk controlling their (dead before you even came around) bodies, it was never ending, if you stopped fighting they would kill you and you didn’t know who the villain was or where they were. You had your agencies looking for them and until then you had to fight, to keep these bodies occupied so they didn't bring chaos anywhere else. You didn’t talk during the fighting but you both were paying more attention to making sure that the other was fine that you ended up just fighting the villains going after each other. When you get home, battered, bruised, and covered in sweat and blood and many tears, you each take turns showering in his amazing shower, you couldn't use a normal shower for your sore muscles. 

You made a meal for you both quietly as he showered, too tired to speak or do more than was required, when he came to find you he almost cried with relief at your home cooked meal, he was starving. You ate together in silence, both reflecting on the battle, both reliving every moment where you almost lost the other, where you almost lost the fight, feeling more and more anxious the more you thought about it. What would you have done without him? You didnt want to lose him and regret never telling him, but you know you are way to exhausted to speak. 

You stare at each other in the hallway, both wanting to say something, to not leave each other yet. You turn to go and he grabs your hand, pulling you with him into his room before climbing in bed and pulling you along with him down into his soft comfortable bed, he pulls you to his chest and you feel all your stress and anxiety leave your body. He kisses the back of your head “I love you” he whispers into your hair, the only energy he has left. You turn in his arms to look at him and see his eyes blink slowly, he can hardly hold them open anymore. You smile softly “I love you” you whisper back and he sighs, a happy smile on his lips as he lets his eyes close “good” he says and you chuckle, your eyes closing as you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before allowing yourself to fall asleep, the feeling of his arm around you and the sound of his soft breaths comforting you.

[peachy-inserts]

general nsfw for daichi

request: Ms peachyinserts mod, can i please get some of your spicy Daichi headcanons?

warnings: nsfw; kinky as fuck

a/n: ask and you shall receive >:) reposting because i think something messed up the tags and it didnt reach as many people as our posts usually do? thank you for all the nice comments those who saw the original left! you guys really encourage us to keep writing <3

Ok first things first, Daichi tops. No questions, no debates, no. He thrives being the dominant one in bed and even when he lets you ride him establishes himself over you, sometimes not even on purpose; he’s really just a true leader type

He has a very defined v-line and a happy trail that runs down to his cock, well groomed but still a fair amount of hair. He’s slightly above average and girthy; not huge, but certainly big, more thick than he is long though. I’d give him at least 7 inches, enough to be considerably large but not monstrous and feeds into his size kink

He definitely has a thing for names, whether it’s daddy, sir, captain, master, officer - literally any authoritative name will make him twitch and turn him on, and he expects you to be using it for the entirety of the night with punishments if you do so otherwise

You need a safe word with him

Loves stuffing you full while you squirm and cringe at the stretch, coaxing you down and praising you for taking him so well, for being so obedient and letting him rip you apart with patience like a good girl

Is all about marking you. He will go down on your neck and chest and leave as many sweet little bites and bruises as he can before you get needy for him elsewhere and pull him away. He just loves to look down at them when he’s fucking you senseless, it fills him with a sense of pride and makes him damn near feral knowing he’s the only one that gets to see you like this

God, especially on the thighs. I really can’t decide if he’s more of a thighs or tits man, but he loves them both dearly. He always has a hand gripping your thigh while he rams into you and runs his thumb reassuringly over the dark spots he’d left earlier, his other hand leaving new bruises on your hips

Goes absolutely nuts when he’s thrusting into you so hard your whole body is jerked forward and your chest bounces to the rhythm of his cock pumping in and out of you at an impressively fast pace, and it’s his favorite spot to finish on

After long and tiring days of work he’s not above fucking you while wearing his uniform, so long as you agree to call him officer. He’ll finger you with his gloves and degrade you for getting them wet, making you suck the fabric clean before leaning you over his knee to spank you

Handcuffs you to the bed; sometimes it’s just your hands, sometimes just your feet, and sometimes it’ll be both; it’s a gamble

On days when you both have some time to kill he’ll tease you just to cuff you down and leave you helpless with a vibrator while he fills out paperwork, only to come in a half hour or so later after you’ve came several times and finally give you the relief you need

Who knows, maybe he’ll even go gentle if you’ve worn yourself out too much; kinkiness aside, he’s still a very considerate and sweet guy

Loves to see you jerk your hips up towards him while you’re bound and then not touch you, just loves to see you so needy for him and completely helpless, and your every move up to him and him alone

Eats you out while your hands and feet are cuffed/tied and laughs to himself as you struggle against him, unable to close your legs as he overstimulates your clit with his tongue and has you cumming again and again, tears running down your face in the pure bliss and euphoria of it all while begging him to give you a moment to breathe before he’s already slipping another finger back into your abused hole for another round

Another personal favorite of his is to sit you on his lap while he works on case reports and finger you with his free hand, and depending on his mood and just how horny either of you are either praises you or calls you a desperate whore

A fan of thigh riding. Especially loves it when you’re unclothed, seeing just how much of a mess you make on him without him even doing anything. Not to mention feeling you grind against the muscles in his legs is a huge turn on for him, and has his cock twitching only inches away

Y’all make Kuroo out to be the sex god but it’s our man Daichi here no cap he will try literally anything at least once and has an insane sex drive; he can go for several rounds too, always dragging out orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re completely and utterly exhausted

He loves to throw a leg over his shoulder and grip your ass all while getting to penetrate you from a deeper angle, rutting his hips into every little spot within you that has you seeing stars and gushing all over his fat cock in a matter of minutes, crying out whatever name he’s chosen from himself that night and eyes fluttering shut in pleasure

Amazing at fingering. He’s got some thick fingers and although they may not be particularly long they fill you up very nicely and goddamn he knows how to use them. Not a fan of public sex but has fucked you in the back of his cruiser a few times

Records videos of you when he’s hitting it from the back, your knees about to collapse onto the bed and his hand gripping your hair to pull your head back so your fucked out face is just barely visible, mouth open in a fast paced pant and moans slipping past your lips without second thought to which he praises you for; also takes photos of you sprawled out on the rustled sheets once he’s finally done with you, your sweating form glimmering under the dim lights and your body battered and bruised, cum leaking from you and trailing down your thighs. He keeps these for himself and every once in a while when he’s away will send you a video just to rile you up

Not to mention mirrors; he really gets off on seeing himself wreck you, it’s such a huge ego booster for him and just has him pounding into you even faster and if you’re not careful can go as far as to tear your cervix if not just leave it incredibly sore

He really tries the very best he can in aftercare, and whatever horny switch that was flipped inside his head is set back to Normal Daichi and he’s back to your regular caring boyfriend. Always has pain killers handy, lotion for your abused skin, and is always willing to offer you a nice massage after holding you in the same position for nearly an hour. He knows he goes exceptionally rough at times and is always going to make it up to you, making you breakfast when you can hardly walk in the morning without a searing pain ripping through your insides and will draw you a warm bath if need be

Once you’re taken care of though he’s out like a light, only slipping on a clean pair of boxers before pulling you into his chest and passing straight out (probably snoring loudly, he seems like the type)

[aching-tummies]

Fiction Mirrors Reality

Hmm..so apparently I lived out a sort of kink fantasy of mine on accident today. Well, doing part-2 as I write this.

I treated myself to milk-tea after work today. They're sold in heat-sealed cups (bubble-tea). Considering there's a mandatory-mask bylaw thing in effect in my city I realized that it'd be better to save stabbing my straw into the drink for when I got home and could remove my mask. I was going to take transit home and I didn't want to accidentally spill my drink when I knew I wouldn't be able to sip at it with my mask on. So I stashed it in a pocket and headed to the nearest bus stop to try to make my way home. Unfortunately, the bus came and went five minutes early and blew passed me on my way to the stop. Checking the bus schedule revealed that I had another 45 minutes before the next one was expected to arrive so I ducked into a fast-food restaurant right by the stop and ordered a coffee to sip on while I waited.

Apparently, the milk in the coffee was enough to upset my stomach. I'm not super lactose intolerant or whatever. My stomach doesn't aways react badly to milk. Sometimes it's just a minor ache that goes away after a while on it's own and other times the same amount of milk will cause my guts to cramp up and try to purge the offending milk from both ends. I mainly use it in coffee so it's usually the same amount of milk each time I take any. Welp, apparently today was a "cramp and purge" kind of day. After I got home I put the sealed milk-tea in the fridge and spent a majority of the night in my bathroom. Hours later, my stomach is sore and still grumbling, trying to purge the trace amounts of the offending milk from my system...but the milk-tea is still here. If I leave it in the fridge one of my family members will take it--even if I write my name on it...and I worked hard to treat myself to this thing. It's been a hellish week at work so I wanted to treat myself.

Tomorrow's a day off and I woke up this morning with tummy-kink on my mind...had to put that on the back-burner 'cuz I needed to head to work though. So...yeah...here I am preparing to drink a large milk-tea on a stomach that's only just managed to rid itself of my first, ill-fated dose of dairy ^^ hopefully the sensations will finally give me the push I need to write some decent things for the stomach-ache tag.

Currently I've got this as a sort of snippet of a RP starter or whatever:

"Uhm...I don't think...I don't think my stomach will be able to handle all this." A mutters sheepishly, turning the sealed drink around in their hands as though sizing it up. "Oh? I'm counting on it." B smiles sadistically and gestures for A to start drinking. A opens the drink, resigning themselves to what will happen. They start with a large swallow, hoping to get this over with quicly knowing full-well they just "got over" another lactose-induced upset stomach. The cramps only just started ebbing in the last twenty minutes and they've been feeling twinges and spasms in their intestines as their upset guts try to purge the trace amounts of dairy left clinging to their insides. They rub their stomach as they begin to swallow, still feeling the soreness of their last upset tummy and knowing that their stomach is not going to like this new influx of dairy. With each gulp their abdominal muscles clench tighter and tighter. It feels like their guts are slowly being gripped by a vice. By the third mouthful their stomach grumbles to punctuate each swallow. A wants to stop and allow themselves to burp, to try to relieve some of the pressure in their abused gut. They keep the drink firmly pressed to their mouth and soldier on, knowing that B has been preparing for and looking forward to this 'game' for a while now. Sharp pains sting at their stomach--along their rib-cage and under their navel. The twinging cramps occur in a rapid-fire, random sequence and there's a low, inaudible rumbling behind the stinging twinges, a subtle hint at the horrors that await A's sickly belly. The image of swallowing a dozen live wasps comes to mind as A fights to continue swallowing--to continue ingesting the 'treat' that would normally be delicious but currently is more like a toxin for their sensitive gastro-intestinal tract. A swallows what they hope was a burp--the pressure in their gut is too much for them to tell if it was only air coming up or something with more substance. The sour, burning feeling at the back of their throat suggests it was the latter. They don't want to find out. B reaches over and runs a palm over the crest of A's bloating tummy. Their upper stomach area has bloated outwards and is fairly solid. B licks their lips as they imagine the mix of liquid and gas that's causing the distension. Unable to hold themselves back, B presses into A's side, forcing some of the pressure upward. A groans as a short and abrupt burp interrupts their determined swallowing. B relents the pressure of their palm and strokes A's stomach lightly in apology, though they're not really sorry. After two more swallows A breaks their rhythm again and lets out a quiet moan around the drink. B's hand has been swirling in gentle circles over A's stomach, causing the contents to swirl and burble in their fleshy prison. They pause as they feel a massive shift under their palm. A's moan sharply increases in pitch--they're in pain--and barely a fraction of a second later an impassioned groan resounds under B's palm, harmonizing with A's moan. B gently rubs their thumb over the taut surface of A's stomach, feeling how the muscles are still squeezed together in a massive cramp. A wet 'squelch'ing noise from A's left side draws B's attention and their hand flies to the spot, following the wet noises to rest directly over A's navel. The milk is percolating through A's gastric system much faster than anticipated. B frowns, disappointed that the fun may be over too quicky tonight. The sickly squelches and rumbles that are now resounding all over A's abdominal area alleviates B's disappointment. The sounds are audible and it sounds like the dairy is tearing poor A's belly to shreds. A has given up holding in their belches and every swallow is accompanied by a sharp release of gas--some more wet-sounding than others. The hiccups that ravage their diaphram also serve to upset their stomach, forcing more belches and more activity under B's palm. B pauses their hand over the center of A's straining belly, debating whether or not to give it a bit of a push.

So...what would you do? Are you going to press into A's distended tummy? Will A puke or will it all come out the other end? Or will it come out at all? Leave your ideas about what you'd do or what you want to see happen in my ask-box!

[dothwrites]

part vi of mafia!au 

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

COMPLETE

---

Recovery is slow and excruciating. 

Castiel’s body has never rebelled against him to this extent. His muscles refuse to do their damn jobs and function. He’s relegated to his bed for days on end, while being forced to endure Sam Winchester’s lurking and Gabriel’s overly effusive attempts to cheer him. 

All of those would be fine, except that he hasn’t seen the house’s other occupant, Dean Winchester, except in short glimpses, as though Dean is the rarest of all animals, only seen from a distance. 

Which is fucking bullshit, because he can hear Dean’s voice, echoing through the tiny confines of the house, after Dean thinks he’s asleep. Clearly, it’s not the concept of social interaction which Dean finds daunting, but rather, the concept of social interaction with him. 

It’s infuriating. 

It wouldn’t be as bad if he thought Dean’s avoidance was due to hatred or indifference. But even though he’d been fairly hazy that first morning, he’d seen how Dean’s whole face brightened, he’d felt the hard clutch of Dean’s fingers in his. The look on Dean’s face...Castiel doesn’t want to put a name to it, doesn’t dare try to define it, but he knows for sure that it wasn’t hatred or apathy. 

Which means Dean is staying away from him for some other reason and that...

That’s bullshit. 

So Castiel does what he’s been doing his entire life and pushes everything aside in favor of a single minded pursuit. This time, he pours all of himself into the mission to get his fucking body to do what it’s supposed to do. He starts with minuscule goals, such as getting out of bed and pacing around his room, but it’s still too much for some. 

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Gabriel asks, a little sourly, as he stands in the doorway of Castiel’s bedroom. 

“Are you sure you should be poking your nose into my business?” Castiel asks back. For all that Gabriel is the elder sibling, they’ve never been under any delusions as to who was actually suited for this business. Gabriel is too flighty, too interested in frivolous pursuits and the mundane workings of everyday life. It was always Castiel who could sink his teeth into a problem, who could take it apart, hold the bloody pieces in his hands, and see how they could be sewn back together into a new animal. 

“Whatever,” Gabriel concedes, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “On your own head be it.” 

Castiel sneers after Gabriel as he turns to leave. He’s just in time for Dean to poke his head out of his room. It would be comical, if it weren’t so infuriating, to see how quickly Dean’s eyes bulge and his face reddens. Castiel is afforded one swift glimpse before Dean retreats into the safety of his room, slamming the door closed behind him. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and starts another circuit around the room. 

---

His body might be stubborn but Castiel continues on his conquest of it. Soon, he’s walking laps around the house, followed by short jogs around the property. The safehouse is far enough in the country that, as long as he’s careful, he can exercise outside without garnering too much attention. 

The Winchesters and Gabriel watch him with varying degrees of concern. 

“I already told you, I’m fine,” Castiel grunts, massaging at his sore calves after a midnight run. “Besides, we can’t afford to stay here forever.” 

Judging from the shifty look on Gabriel’s face, this is not the first time someone has mentioned this fact. He also notes that his brother proposes no solution, which means that no one has either managed or bothered to come up with one. Typical. 

Castiel’s impatience and ire increases when he considers the reason they haven’t yet moved on. They’re waiting for him to recover, which is an unconscionable burden on his mind. Every minute they spend in this house, waiting for him to get his shit together, is another minute he’s putting them all in danger. 

Gabriel lingers in the doorway, saying nothing, yet watching Castiel with an intensity usually only reserved for cupcakes and candy. After a few moments it starts to grate on Castiel’s nerves, yet he waits until he’s fully done with his post-run routine to speak. “Something else you needed?” 

“When are you going to talk about it?” Gabriel asks, much too kindly for Castiel’s liking. 

“Talk about what? What do to next? I’d love to do that, if it were possible to get you, Sam, and Dean in the same room for longer than five minutes.” 

“When are you going to talk about Naomi?” 

Castiel’s blood freezes. 

“I might be an idiot, but I know enough. I know who Dad’s attack dogs are, and I know how they work.” Gabriel swallows, unwontedly serious. “I saw the marks, Cassie.” 

Castiel’s hand makes an aborted jerk to the crook of his elbow where the scars are still livid against his skin. He catches the movement before it has a chance to amount to anything and forces his hand back down to his side. He can still feel the phantom ache of needles pushing into his skin, still remember how it felt when the road forked and reality went one way while his brain went another. 

He hasn’t told anyone, but sometimes, he’ll catch movement out of the corner of his eye, turn, and find nothing there. He tries to tell himself that this happens to everyone, that he’s fine, that he’s normal, but there’s always the insidious creeping fear down his spine--What if he’s losing it? What if Naomi fucked him up permanently? 

What if he’s never the same? 

If he doesn’t have his mind, if he doesn’t have his body, then he’s useless. He can’t protect anyone. He has nothing to offer. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel croaks, once he realizes Gabriel is still waiting for an answer. 

One eyebrow ticks upwards. “Yeah, once more until I actually believe you.”

“I already said that I’m fine. I don’t know what else you want.” 

Gabriel throws his arm wide. “For you to stop trying to run yourself into the ground? For you to stay in a room longer than ten minutes? For you to acknowledge that you maybe have an actual problem?”

Castiel sniffs, retreating into haughtiness to hide his hurt and anxiety. “Well, I’m sorry if I choose to concentrate on more important things, like trying to get well enough to protect us all.”

Gabriel gapes at him. “To protect...” He looks over his shoulder, like he expects to find the Winchesters supporting him. Upon finding no one there, he turns back to Castiel. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Dean and I are fairly good at what we do. Even the stringbean can hit the broad side of a barn. We’re fine.” 

The deliberate inflection of his voice suggests that Castiel is somehow not lumped into the general category of ‘fine’. 

“Fuck off,” Castiel growls, as a more appropriate comeback fails to materialize. He storms past his brother, hitting him in the shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom. Gabriel doesn’t try to stop him, but Castiel knows he’s still watching. 

Some of his righteous rage is lost when he looks down the length of the hallway and finds Dean standing at the opposite end. He spares a single, startled look at Castiel before he scampers back towards the living room. Castiel’s temper worsens at the sight of Dean’s retreating back. 

Dean is a confirmed killer, a man who’s known the feel of a gun in his hand since he could walk. He’s seen Dean in action and admired his skills and ruthlessness. Now he’s watching the same man running scared. Castiel can’t think of anything more pathetic or more frustrating. 

Now in a profoundly foul mood, Castiel slams the bathroom door shut. The sound echoes through the house. He twists the knob of the creaky shower, turning the heat all the way up so that steam billows throughout the room. He steps underneath the spray, ignoring the tendrils of pain licking across his body, his tender, scarred skin protesting the rough treatment. 

He pushes away the ever present nip of worry (what if Gabriel’s right, what if he’s weak, what if he’s broken beyond repair) and scrubs at his skin until tiny pinpricks of blood well up, and then he scrubs some more. 

---

Matters come to a head a few days later. 

No longer content with pushing his body through runs, Castiel’s taken to shadow boxing in the house’s basement. He dances around the dank, mildewy space in his bare feet, tossing punches and kicks at imaginary enemies. His muscles scream at the exercise and threaten to collapse and tear, but he pushes on anyway. 

His thoughts are spiraling ever downward, dovetailing with his exhaustion. Castiel’s so lost within their grip that the opening of the basement door escapes his attention. Even the weary creak of the step doesn’t catch his attention. He’s formed bad habits in his convalescence. In his world, such laziness gets people killed. 

When he catches sight of Dean standing at the foot of the stairs, he jumps in surprise. Embarrassment flushes his cheeks red, and he hides his shame with snippiness. “Did you need something?” 

Castiel paces around the basement, grabbing a bottle of water, just to give his hands something to do. He tries to unscrew the top but gives up after two tries. He doesn’t want Dean to see how badly his hands are trembling. 

“You know that we’ve got your back, right?” Dean finally says. Castiel stops pacing. He wasn’t expecting that. 

Despite his surprise, he recovers quickly. “Coming from a Winchester, that isn’t exactly inspiring,” he sneers. 

Dean doesn’t try to hide his flinch. Castiel feels an irrational stab of guilt at that. “I just thought you should hear it from someone who wasn’t your brother,” he says, already turning to go back up the stairs. “But you have all three of us. Him, Sam.” Dean pauses for a second. “Me.” He continues on quickly, like he wants Castiel to forget about the slight emphasis he put on himself. “Anyway, you don’t have to do this every day. Take a day off before you kill yourself.” 

Castiel’s upper lip lifts reflexively. So, Dean’s joined forces with Gabriel. Next, he supposes Sam Winchester will find him and urge him to talk about it, you’ll feel better if you get it all out in the open. 

“Stay,” he says, brain running ahead of his common sense. Dean pauses, his foot already on the step. “It’s no good shadow boxing. I need a partner.” 

Dean wants to argue. Castiel can tell by his hesitation, the twitch of his fingers, the way he closes his mouth on whatever he was going to say. Castiel waits, head cocked to the side. He doesn’t quite smile in victory when Dean makes his decision, but he must give off the impression of it, as Dean’s expression darkens. 

“You know this isn’t doing you any good,” Dean says, as he sheds his flannel overshirt. The fabric has barely hit the floor before Castiel is on him, swinging at his head in a wild, haymaker punch. Dean blocks him easily, but the suddenness of the attack surprises him, as he lurches backward. 

“What the hell?” he spits, a mixture of fury and worry spread across his face. 

Castiel dances back, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. His fists are held up close to his jaw, elbows tucked in close to his sides to protect his ribs. Within seconds, Dean copies his movements, but with slight differences. Castiel keeps himself contained, taut, muscles coiled in a defensive posture. Dean is looser, his left hand lazily extended, though Castiel doesn’t fall for the trap. That left hand can just as easily block blows as it can land a stinging jab. 

When it comes to Dean Winchester, there are dozens of traps, and Castiel seems to have fallen into all of them. 

They spend several long minutes circling each other, exchanging tentative jabs in a dance of blocks and dodges. They learn what blows the other considers threatening and what the other will shake off. 

Castiel changes the tempo when he aims a low kick at Dean’s hip. Dean twists out of the way, but when he turns back to Castiel, something in his face has changed. His eyes have hardened, his fingers curled purposefully into his palm. Castiel understands. Dean was just passing the time earlier, indulging his whimsy. For whatever reason, now he’s made up his mind to act. 

“You need to take it easy,” Dean tells him. He moves easily into Castiel’s space, each motion screaming aggression. He bats away Castiel’s jab; Castiel blocks Dean’s punch. They fall apart, sharp eyes raking over the other in a search for weaknesses. 

“You need to mind your own business,” Castiel replies. He has to concentrate on speaking; already he’s a little short of breath, though he’d rather chew off his own fingernails rather than admit that to Dean. “What I do is none of your concern.” 

Dean falters at that. His defenses lower, which allows Castiel to dart in, landing several snap punches to Dean’s ribs before Dean regains himself and forces him back. Something dangerous flashes in the depths of Dean’s eyes, and a vicious satisfaction rises in Castiel’s chest. This is what he wanted, this is the Dean Winchester that he--

The thought hits him, unbidden and unwelcome, and Castiel freezes. His inattention gives Dean the opening he needs. Where Castiel fights with precision and accuracy, Dean favors overwhelming force. It’s a strategy which works well for him and he uses it to devastating effect, foregoing fancy footwork and devious punches for a simple, unavoidable attack. Dean puts his head down and charges, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist in an attempt to throw him to the ground. 

It’s a perfect storm: His muscles, still not where they were before, falter. His balance, another casualty of Naomi’s untender mercies, isn’t enough to save him from catching his heel against an irregularity on the cheap mat he’s laid out. Dean is a hurricane, a typhoon, and underneath his onslaught, Castiel tumbles backward. 

Castiel’s back hits the ground, hard enough to knock the breath out of him. His head slams into the ground, and his vision spins for several, vital seconds. By the time he regains his equilibrium, Dean is already atop him, knees clamping in hard against his ribs. One of Dean’s hands wraps around his throat, fingers flexing in warning. 

“Enough,” Dean says tightly. “Whatever you’re trying to prove, enough. We get it, all right? You’re a big badass who doesn’t need anyone. We get it.” 

If he weren’t staring so closely at Dean’s face, then Castiel would miss his quick flash of emotion. As it is, it’s there and gone before he has a chance to really examine it, but for the moment, it’s enough to know that it exists. 

Castiel slumps back onto the floor, allowing his exhausted muscles a moment’s respite. Dean, ever cautious, doesn’t relent. Smart man. Ruthless. Focused. He’s a killer, Dean Winchester, and whatever is broken in Castiel’s brain is drawn to that part of him, just as much as it’s drawn to the well-hidden, softer aspects of him, like his obvious affection for his brother and his insistence on protecting civilians. 

But for all of his admirable qualities, Dean Winchester is still just a man. Castiel tips his head back, baring the vulnerable stretch of his throat to Dean’s gaze. It’s a deliberately submissive gesture, one designed to draw the eyes. He feels the exact moment Dean loosens his grip, distracted, and it’s that moment that Castiel acts. 

He bucks his hips up in a single, sharp motion, while striking out at Dean’s elbow. With his support gone, Dean buckles. While there are countless activities which Castiel could imagine partaking in with Dean slumped overtop him, he’s not interested in any of them. Instead, he uses Dean’s momentum against him, rolling them until their positions are neatly reversed. 

Dean snarls and curses, but Castiel has him pinned, much more securely than Dean did him. His knees presses down on Dean’s right wrist, immobilizing his strongest arm. Castiel leans forward. With his superior position, he doesn’t need to hold back his panting, doesn’t need to feel ashamed for the several beads of sweat which slip down from his forehead to the tip of his nose, to fall upon Dean’s throat. 

“I don’t need your permission to do anything,” Castiel says, once he thinks he can speak without wheezing through a sentence. “I’m not weak, I’m not broken, I’m not whatever else you three think I am. I’m fine.” Before he can stop himself, the words come tumbling out, the ones which he’d meant to keep close to his chest. “So you can stop running from me, or whatever it is that you’ve been doing. I’m fine.” 

Emotion twists across Dean’s face again, and this time, Castiel is in a position to examine it. Surprisingly, when he’s forced to put a name to it, the definition he comes up with is guilt. He tilts his head to the side in confusion, only realizing after he sits back on Dean’s stomach that he’s left himself vulnerable to an attack. 

Dean doesn’t take the opening. He lays passively underneath Castiel and doesn’t try to squirm away, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t do anything. If Castiel had to guess, then he would say that Dean enjoys being there. Or at least, he would if he could get that awful, hangdog look off his face. 

“What is it?” he asks. There’s something there, writhing underneath the surface of Dean’s expression, something that probably shouldn’t see the surface but it has to. 

Dean turns his head away. It’s a childish move, one that irritates Castiel, as it’s an extension of what Dean’s been doing for days. He’s avoiding Castiel, running from him, which is infuriating. Dean Winchester is many things, but a coward, he is not. 

“Answer me.” He takes Dean’s jaw in his hand and forces Dean to meet his eyes. He stares at Dean, the same stare guaranteed to make hardened criminals think twice and civilians piss their pants. 

It makes Dean blink, but it’s enough. That blink starts an avalanche, and eventually, Dean’s whole face crumples. He blinks, hard and fast, green flickering in and out of existence. 

“It was my fault.” Dean’s voice comes out as a tortured whisper. Castiel holds Dean’s jaw prisoner between his fingers, now allowing Dean to turn away. At first, Dean jerks against the restricting hold, but once the first wall crumbles, all the rest fall quickly, and Dean stares him down. 

“What was your fault?” Castiel asks, when no more information is forthcoming. 

For a moment, he thinks Dean will pull away, but Dean surprises him. It’s obvious that he’s struggling with his admission, but it comes. Haltingly, in little fits, but it comes. 

“If it hadn’t been for me...Fuck, Cas, are you going to make me say it? If it weren’t for me, then you would be fine. You’d be with your family, head of the family, and you’d be...” Dean forces a swallow. His eyes perform a swift sweep of Castiel’s figure, down to his chest, where the scars still linger. 

“It fucking killed me to see you like that.” Dean’s hand rises and Castiel doesn’t move to stop him, not even when Dean’s fingers sneak underneath the hem of his shirt to stroke against his skin. His breath catches as Dean’s calloused fingertips catch against the scabbed edges of his wounds. Every instinct screams for him to move, to run, to flee, but he forces his muscles to inaction and allows Dean to explore him through touch. “God, Cas...You were...” 

Dean looks up at him. His expression is naked and raw. Castiel feels exposed just witnessing it. “You’re a fucking force of nature,” Dean whispers, pressing his palm flat against the quivering skin of his belly. “You’re a goddamn hurricane, and...” 

When he stares at Dean, Castiel sees an unfathomable, looming wave rising in his eyes, the same wave which he feels swelling in his own chest. He leans forward, and Dean’s hand slides from his stomach to his back. The skin there is marred as well, and he gasps softly as Dean’s thumb strokes over a particularly deep wound. 

“It was my choice,” Castiel whispers. He’s hovering low over Dean, their chests almost brushing. He’s close enough that if he wanted, he could count the freckles dotted across the bridge of Dean’s nose. Dean blinks. From his vantage point, Castiel can appreciate the thick curtain of golden lashes fanning across his cheek. 

“I made the call, not you. I knew what had to be done, and I did it. You think I could have been happy there, knowing you were dead? That I’d had a chance to stop it and did nothing? Every second was worth it because that was another second you were safe. I made the choice, and I’d make it again, in a heartbeat. Don’t take that from me.” 

“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean breathes. His hand is heavy against Castiel’s spine, but for once, Castiel doesn’t bristle at the restraint. “I’m not worth that.” 

Castiel’s mouth is not made for smiling. In fact, sometimes he thinks he’s forgotten the knack of it. But around Dean, his face moves easier. An actual smile, not the sarcastic, threatening expression he usually plasters on his face when he feels like intimidating someone, tugs at the corners of his lips. 

“Lucky for both of us, you don’t get to make the decisions,” Castiel whispers. 

He’s not sure which of them moves first. Either way, the end result is the same. His lips crash into Dean’s and Dean receives him with a low moan of delight, his mouth opening automatically. Castiel cards his fingers through Dean’s short hair, tugging at the strands as he maps out the interior of Dean’s mouth. 

The first time he kissed Dean, he’d been selfish. He’d been standing on the edge of his darkest moment, and he’d wanted something golden to take with him, something to hold through the horror. The second time he kissed Dean, he’d been half out of his mind, clinging to the barest hint of reality. He hadn’t even realized Dean was kissing him until it was over. 

This time...

The third time he kisses Dean, Castiel takes his time. 

---

The atmosphere in the house relaxes. 

Castiel stops pushing himself quite so much, and his muscles, glad for the reprieve, begin working as they should. Day by day, his strength increases, and Castiel takes full advantage of this. 

Dean enjoys being pinned and Castiel aims to please. 

The four of them hold contests--who is the quickest draw, who’s the best shot, who has the best accuracy with knives. Sam Winchester, it turns out, is a damn good shot, especially when Castiel considers his youth. 

The four of them work well together. Their personalities clash, sometimes terribly, but they also complement each other, pragmatism warring with emotion, brawn matching brains. Castiel laughs as he looks around the room, realizing that, for possibly the first time in his life, he’s comfortable. Amazing, that he can relax in a room with two Winchesters, but there it is. He trusts Sam and Dean, more than any member of his family, to watch his back. 

(No doubt Dean would throw in an off-color comment about being all too happy to watch Castiel’s back, but he chooses to ignore Dean’s rather childish sense of humor.)

The question naturally arises, as to their next move. 

“The smartest thing to do would be to split up.” It’s Castiel who says it, because it’s always Castiel who retreats to the fortress of cold logic. Three pairs of betrayed eyes stare him down. Castiel returns the stare. “It makes the most sense. There’s four of us; if we all split up, we’d stand a better chance of escaping. We could start over. Be whoever we wanted to be.” 

(Gabriel’s been fighting against the Novak name since he was old enough to know there was something to fight against. Sam Winchester has never wanted the mantle of the Winchester family; he’s dreamed of something else, something altruistic, far away from the dark cloud of John Winchester. Dean...All Dean knows is duty to his father, but Castiel already knows that he’d follow Sam wherever he went. And Castiel...well...He can always try to take back the Novak family. No doubt he’ll fail, but he’s a weapon, a hammer. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.)

“Fuck that,” Dean says, crude and succinct as always. “Your splitting up plan, not your be whoever we want to be plan.” 

Dean leans forward. His eyes lock onto Castiel’s. It’s as though they’re the only two people in the room. “Look at us. We wouldn’t have gotten you out if we hadn’t worked together. You wouldn’t have been able to get me out if we hadn’t worked together. You, me, Gabriel, Sam...we’re just better together.” 

Dean’s words touch something vulnerable in his chest, something Castiel has never bothered to acknowledge. What else was there for him, other than a life of violence? There was no room in the Novak family for love, no room for freedom. 

Dean makes him dream it’s possible. 

“They’ll look for us,” Castiel says, in a last ditch attempt at realism. “Not only the Novaks. The Winchesters too. They won’t like the idea that people are capable of defying them.” 

“So let them come.” It’s Sam’s voice, ringing clear from the table. He might have come to this house as a child, but he’s matured in the time since he’s been here. Castiel trusts him just as much as anyone else sitting at the table. “Dean’s right. If there’s four of us, then we stand a better shot. We’ll watch each other’s back.” 

“Careful there, Samsquatch,” Gabriel hums, his eyes dancing over the rim of his glass. “Your back is a little big to watch.” 

Sam shoots Gabriel a disparaging look and Castiel has to struggle to bite back his laugh. How could he dream of giving this up? These people are his friends, his...

His family. 

“So we go. We’ll go somewhere new, make our own destinies. Team Free Will.” Dean takes a drink from his glass. 

“Nifty title, but I think you’re leaving a few steps out,” Gabriel says. “I’m all in favor of Team Free Will, but exactly how are we going to make our way in the world?”

Gabriel’s eyes cut to Castiel. It’s Castiel who always has the answer, Castiel whose brutal logic always comes rushing forth at times like these. 

And this is the time for logic. Both the Novaks and the Winchesters have considerable financial resources, and they’ll stop at nothing to regain their lost sense of pride. If they’re found, then the best they can hope for is a quick death. Castiel might have tucked the majority of his finances away, but his funds won’t stretch nearly as far or as long as he’ll need them to. They’ll have to get jobs. Or else...

Maybe they could move to a different city and start their own family. Maybe, one day, they could come back here and take back what’s rightfully theirs. 

Castiel glances over at Dean. They could run this town. They could have it all. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel finally answers, ostensibly answering Gabriel, but never looking away from Dean. 

“I guess we’ll make it up as we go.” 

[bnhavibes]

ummmm.... so 👉🏽👈🏽 i’m sorry for being MIA.....

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but...... take this as an apology, yeah?

Kirishima, Eijirou x fem!Reader 🍋 18+ NSFW

—————//———-//——————-///—————herego

It wasn’t too often that you went to the gym with your boyfriend. Partially because you despised the campus rec center in its entirety, but mostly because of the gruesome nature that Eijirou exuded whenever he tried to impress you.

Just knowing that you were watching him while he worked out made him feel nervous, like he had to put on a show for you to see just how manly he was. Sometimes, however, the two of you would go your separate ways; you’d head off to the outdoor pool for a full body workout consisting of an lazily paced laps and leisurely laying out in the sun for a tan, and he’d go do his usual routine.

Today was one of these days.

Your loving boyfriend, however, was in some type of broody mood and you couldn’t understand why he hadn’t tried to speak to you other than to get you off your phone on the walk to the gym.

*Typically*, he’d pull you in for a sweet kiss before giving you that adorable toothy grin and a “Later, babe! Don’t miss me too much.” before splitting apart.

*Typically* the two of you would discuss what workouts you would be doing and if he would be working with or without you before you would even enter the gym.

Today was definitely atypical.

He hadn’t spoke to you save for the small talk about your own days at school... And then you started scrolling through instagram, and he didn’t even try to make conversation.

At first, you figured he was just tired and dragging himself to the gym despite not wanting to go. But then you’d look over at him in a side glance, and his expression would be blank— distant, like he wasn’t interested in whatever it was you were going to talk about.

It was late in the afternoon, and thanks to the hero course getting out so late, you got to avoid the rush of crowds at the RC.

When you usually came, there was a bustling atmosphere of all student types hanging in and around the building like it was some sort of stomping grounds. No matter who was gathered around of the two of you when you entered, someone would always make an audible reaction to the your shared parting kiss.

You pouted when he grumbled a soft “See you in a bit” at you, and walked off to the male changing rooms before you could grab him and ask what was wrong, or where your kids was. Luckily there wasn’t anybody around to see that. Despite your gut telling you that he was upset about something, you went about your routine(opting for the lazy route today since your man’s attitude left a sour taste in your mouth)

You tried to push his blank expression out of your head when you jumped into the water, letting your body fall to a soft float in the deep end; eyes open and thoughts racing to figure out just what was wrong with him. Was it something you said? It couldn’t be, you tend to praise him for just about anything whenever you spoke to him. Maybe the way you dressed for the day threw him off? No, he wasn’t controlling or toxic like that.

Whatever it was, it was pissing you off now. And you didn’t even spend time to tan with how worried you were about it; instead, you chose to leave the pool early and head to the changing rooms.

After getting a rinse off, and changing into some loose shorts and a tank top, you wandered aimlessly into the gym in search of the spikey red haired boy.

He was where he usually was, of course, the back of the gym where the deadlifters would meander about, taking turns picking up weights and watching each other’s forms in the mirror, but today it was just him.

Just him and his angry, scrunched up face watching himself as he lifted his way too heavy bar loaded with a few too many weights. You’d never seen him lift this amount before, and it worried you to the point that you almost used your Quirk to teleport yourself over by him in an instant before he injured himself.

But he didn’t. He lifted the bar like it was nothing to him. The rock solid hero in training was making the most of his Quirk, his rugged skin and rippling muscles were a sign that he was working on pushing the limits of it— and it was paying off tenfold.

Despite how angry he looked, and the literal puddle of sweat he was creating, you couldn’t stop yourself from hiding behind a machine and watching him in the distance. Something about the way he was so easily lifting a good 500kgs or more made your thighs clench together.

More and more people started leaving the free weight area until the room was emptied out entirely; the two of you the only ones who stayed behind. Still, you didn’t want to intrude on his workout, and just as you were going to leave from your perfectly hidden perverted lookout, he began to clean up.

Immediately, you noticed he had overexerted himself. From the stiffness of his body while attempting to put the weights away, to the crinkle in his nose every time he’d move a limb to wipe his sweat off.

And like any good girlfriend, you instantly teleported to his side— unintentionally scaring the life out of him in the process.

“A-AUGH! Wh-What the hell, (name)?! You couldn’t walk up to me like a normal person?” His face, though flushed from the heat, had gone pale for a second there.

“I’m sorry, my love!” You exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I came to ask if you needed any help. You looked like you were going to snap with that last attempt.”

Still he gave you a small shrug, biting down on his lip to hide the pain he was in just from the small movement.

“Ngh, wouldn’t you rather look through instagram? I think I can handle wiping the sweat off myself on my own, I’m manly enough!” He huffed as he spoke, avoiding your gaze as he *very slowly* attempted to pick up the towel off the ground, his knees collapsing as his body trembled.

“Eiji!” You yelped, getting on your knees with him, a carefully place hand on his shoulder to keep him upright. “Just sit back, okay? There’s not too much left anyways, I got you.”

He huffed again, pouting slightly as you sat back onto your legs. You’d made it clear you knew he was upset with you by opting to stay silent as you ran the towel across his forehead and spiraled to the nape of his neck to collect any free drips of sweat off his perfectly chiseled body.

The air was still between you as he sat limp on the floor, but you were still happy to help. There was much more to clean than usual, but the towel that he had brought with him seemed to be doing it’s job as you brought it down along the length of his arm, holding his wrists gently with one hand so that the other could maneuver around him. You couldn’t help the heat building between your legs, however. Your face beginning to flush as he released sore groans as you gently squeezed his limbs. He watched you intently, an eyebrow slightly raised as you chewed into your lower lip while working on his thighs. He couldn’t help himself from getting a little turned on with the position you and your soft hands were in; between his thighs on your knees, with one hand on his knee to hold yourself up as you crept the towel up his torso, his tank top collecting in bunches and moving up out of the way as you did your job.

Now he was blushing, the anxiety of someone walking in on your ass bent over in the reflection of the mirror and atop his lap giving him the chills.... But he couldn’t stop you as you pressed your chest against his half-soft crotch, eyes half lidded and leering into his with that sweet feigned innocence in your gaze.

“B-Baby? What are you doing?” His chest heaved as you slipped your fingers up past the towel and crawled into a straddle on his lap.

“Cleaning you up just did something to me, Eiji~” You purred, snaking your arms around his head and pressing your lips to his cheek whilst scooting your crotch along his in attempt to get him closer to you. “I can’t help myself when you look so yummy after a workout.”

He could cry at the crudeness of your comment, the blood draining from his face and racing to the pumping erection in his shorts. “We can’t— Not here, they’re gonna see— oof!”

In an instant, you were teleported to the changing rooms. he was seated on a benched wall adjacent to the lockers, and you were already pawing at his top to remove it.

“Babe?” He breathlessly protested, “I don’t think it’s a good— oh~.... fuck.” His eyes fluttered shut as you suckled onto the weak spot behind his ear, hips swirling along his lap in a needy hump, and he could hear faint sticky sounds as your body became a self lubricating mess for him. He groaned softly, too sore to push you off, too turned on to stop you from doing what you were to him. He licked his lips as you removed your own top, hardened nipples in full view since you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Baby, you were so mad at me earlier,” You whined, cupping your breasts with his hands under yours, massaging yourself as you kept your hips moving. “I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t even focus on working out and when I saw you pushing yourself so hard it made me so proud to have such a manly boyfriend.”

Oh you were good at this, he could feel the saliva collecting in his mouth as he watched you writhe about in his lap. His heartbeating so hard against his chest and your wet crotch that whatever it was that made him mad was nothing but an anomaly.

“Oh, princess, I can’t stay mad at you when you look at me like that.” He moaned, leaning back against the wall to feel you grind against his entire length, giving you access to do as you please to him.

You batted your lashes down at him, still holding a hand against his own, but caressing the frame of his face with another. “You sure, Red Daddy Riot?”

He almost came right there. His flushed cheeks returned at the name he fell victim to.

“Yes, of course, princess. But you could always make it up to me, couldn’t you?”

A cruel smile spread along your cheeks, stopping your hips and hopping off his lap, earning a low whine in protest. “Tck, Tck. Be patient now.”

“So mean.” He panted, his hands moving to his waistline, pulling his shorts down just enough for his dick to escape as you turned away from him.

You decided to give him a show as you removed your bottoms, bending over slightly as you tantalizingly pulled the shorts off. He threw his head back, hitting the wall with a soft thump! as he began pumping his cock to relieve the pressure of being teased.

“Like what you see, Daddy?” Sultry in your voice, you gave yourself a playful smack to the cheek, wiggling your legs out of the shorts and playing with the lining of your panties; the thin fabric wrapping around your fingers before you tugged them down, bending over completely with them; dripping pussy in full view with the way your legs were spread.

“(name). here. now.” He growled as he ceased his moving hand, a frustrated pout on his lips.

“Yes, Red Daddy Riot.” You complied, stalking over to him with that same feigned innocence as earlier as you crawled up onto his lap.

His dick was fluctuating between Hardening and a regular erection, a sign that he was so overwhelmed with hormones that he couldn’t control his Quirk. Precum practically seeped out of the beet red tip, and you licked your lips as you watched your cunt swallow him up inch by pulsating inch.

The two of you groaned as your pelvises met. He was panting with impatience as he let you adjust to his size, squeezing your hips and ass like it was his last grip of restraint.

“Please move, princess. You’ve done enough working me up like this. I won’t be responsible for what happens if you continue on.” He was stern, but his eyes were pleading, he had been holding back the entire time you were wiping him down. It was hotter than you intended, the way you were so focused on helping him. He was watching you the entire time, despite you thinking he was still mad at you.

You beamed a smile down at him as you pressed your arms against the wall behind his head. “Anything for you, my love.”

You began slow, grinding your hips along his length the same as before, mouth opened in an “o” as you peered down at him, his furrowed brows and sweaty forehead a tell that not only was he enjoying this, but he needed more.

“Fuck,” He moaned breathlessly, pressing a hand at the bottom of your back to keep you buried to the hilt. “Your pussy feels so good, baby, you make me wanna stay buried this deep inside you forever.”

You moaned, pulling his chest to yours, bringing your legs up onto the bench to feel him even deeper, your legs quivering at the delicious pumping inside your walls. “God, Eijirou, when did you start being so lewd?”

“I can’t help it when you feel this good, (name). You’re milking my cock like a good little girl; look at you! All supple and pressed against me like this.” His words only fueling your lust, making you dig your hips deeper against his lap. He groaned as you slid along his legs, keeping one palm on your back and the other at the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, Daddy, you feel so good~” You choked out, needily thrusting on his cock as you let out whiney grunt, working yourself harshly against him. “Your cock is scraping my insides so well~”

“You’re the lewd one now, princess. That sure is a filthy mouth you got there,” He moaned, eyes squeezing shut as he began closing his fist around your neck, his thumb burying itself into your throat. Squishy, wet slaps filled the locker room. He could hear every time your cunt sucked him in and every time your hips snapped along his own.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck~!” You cried, picking your pace up as you chased your orgasm. “I’m cumming, Daddy, nngh~! I’m cumming on your cock, a-ammhphh~” Your moans silenced by the tongue in your mouth, he sat forward as he squeezed your body inhumanly close to his, thrusting upwards to meet your own. Your orgasm hit you instantly, a guttural moan echoing in the still air as he sloppily laid kisses and licks around your jawline, arms squeezing you in place as he fucked himself into you harder.

“You like that, babe?” He growled in your ear, “You like when I fuck you back like this, huh? Is this what you wanted from me? God listen to your pussy, you squirted all over my cock didn’t you?” His voice was gruff, speaking between his teeth as he continued mercilessly thrusting into you.

You were moaning so much you couldn’t speak, the walls of your pussy clenching around him so hard you felt the second orgasm already building up. “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, right there~ Ba-a-b—b—-uhhh~” Your head fell back as he relentlessly shook your body around, tongue lolling to the side while he abused your nether regions.

whap!

He slapped your ass cheek, causing you body to spasm roughly as he continued his ruthless fucking. “Don’t forget, it’s Daddy.” He scolded for your slip up, cock Hardening inside you; the rigged feeling made you scream, tearing up as you came a second time, smothering his lap in your essence.

“Mmm,” He hummed, “A second one already. You greedy girl. At least let me catch up before you lap over me.”

Your thighs clenched around his torso, keeping him in place while he bottomed out into you, spewing his load all over your spongey insides. “Daddy! P-Please, keep going! I— nnnnnFUCK!” you cried, slamming down on his lap harder, your hand finding its way to the folds of your cunt, shakily searching for your clit.

“You want more?” He groaned, “Fuck, princess, you’re so greedy today. But don’t worry, Red Daddy Riot’s got plenty of cum for that needy pussy of yours.”

Bringing your head up by your hair, he held you up by his face whilst cumming a second time, watching you as your eyes rolled backward and furiously rubbing your clit.

Your third orgasm didn’t even faze him, the way your walls were spasming, you were probably continuously cumming at this point. Still, the look on your face fueled him enough to grit through his sore muscles and flip you onto the bench, pressing your legs against the wooden furniture by your ankles, and fucking you into oblivion as his own orgasm spilled out of his cock.

A slew of curses and your name left his lips, his hips sputtering while he finally released his Hardening from his dick. He began to bite down on the underside of your thigh, shark-like teeth causing your legs to shake harder. You yelped from the pain, but his unwavering movements subdued you into more bliss, your brain in a fuzzy state of mind you couldn’t tell what felt good or bad anymore. He didn’t draw blood, but there were prominent purple bite marks along your lower legs, his last orgasm already leaking out as he gave you tiresome, slowed humps.

He toppled onto your chest, arms hanging over the sides of the bench as he lay his head in your neck.

“I tap out.” He said breathlessly. “I don’t think I can move anymore.”

You had forgotten all about his workout earlier, and despite your quivering body, you reached for your bags and clothes beneath you, placing them on his back before focusing all the remainder of your energy into one final teleportation. You might’ve overexerted yourself as well in the process, but it was better than the two of you crawling your way to the dorms.

Unfortunately, you didn’t make it to the bed, instead, the two of you plopped onto the floor of your bedroom.

“Now neither of us can move.” He complained.

“It could be worse.” You said, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “I could’ve miscalculated and landed in the living room.”

“Please don’t tell me you did.” He said, eyes still shut.

“Can you run?” You said, a hint of play poking through your voice. “I’m kidding.”

“Geez, you sure are a riot, (name). And that’s coming from me.” He lazily pressed a kiss against your neck. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Red Daddy Riot.” You giggled.

[redtail-hero]

Tags: @meganshinsou-tm @bakugoukatsukiswife @simplybakugou  @gr0vndz3ro @goldenbarbie90210 @gallickingun

Rating: MATURE. 18+

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader x Kirishima

I tried really hard to make the reader gender neutral, so anyone can insert themselves in the story. Ultimately this is my time trying to do this. In my head the reader is female and I might switch over by accident. I apologize in advance if I do that. 

Tasty Pt 4: Tight

Bakugou was used to the silent hallways of the school in the morning. He was usually the first person in the building as his morning routine had him up way before anyone else on campus. However, silence is not what met his ears as he approached the classroom. The sound of light gasps and moans could be heard from the open doorway. He was unsure if he should enter or not, he really didn't need to see someone getting it on against one of the desks. 

After a short moment of debating he decided that it's their own fault if they get embarrassed because they can't keep their pants on. As he entered the room he was slightly surprised to see you sitting at your desk. The small suggestive sounds passed your lips as it seemed like you were in pain as you rubbed your shoulders. He was about to take his seat when you let out a particularly loud moan. He froze, his whole body seized up at the sound while his knees felt weak. Not a second layer he found your eyes suddenly locked with his. 

Katsuki caught the way your face flushed in embarrassment as you mumbled an awkward excuse about being sore from training the previous day. He caught the name of that Icy Hot Bastard passing your lips as you talked about a massage. 

"... That workout Mr. Aizawa gave us yesterday was definitely a bigger load than normal." 

He choked on your choice of words as his mind was halfway in the gutter from your previous suggestive moans. He cleared his throat as he placed his books down. "That Icy Hot bastard probably wouldn't have done it right anyway." He placed his books down before making his way to you. He reached in his pocket and pulled out two pain relief tablets. "Here, Ponytail asked me to give this to you." She didn't but you didn't need to know that. 

There was a moment in which you stared at the medication before staring back at him. Bakugou felt anxious and opened his water bottle, taking a drink before addressing you again. Did you think it was poison or something? "Well, are you going to take them or not?" 

"Oh, I don't have a drink to-" 

You didn't need to say anything else, his brain on autopilot passed his water to you. "Here, you can borrow mine." 

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed against the opening of his water bottle, the same bottle he just sipped from. That simple thought didn't even seem to cross your mind as you handed the bottle back to him. 

"Thank you Katsuki." A shiver hit his spine, still grateful that he gave you the option to call him by his first name after being your sparring partner the past two years. "Do you think it will help with the knot?" 

He grabbed the bottle you passed to him and took another sip. Were you wearing chapstick? He could swear he could taste a small hint of cherry on his lips. "You have a knot?" He licked his lips catching the cherry taste again as you nodded his head. 

"It probably won't do much. You'll want to work it out a little." 

Katsuki looked at the clock when you groaned and seemed disappointed with his answer. There was plenty of time before the start of class. He was more than willing to help you out and this opportunity was dangling on a string in front of him. He decided to grab it. 

"Which side?" 

Your eyes snapped up to his quickly he thought you were going to give yourself whiplash. You looked so confused but hopeful at the same time. 

"Do you want my help or not? Which side?" He probably should have asked a little nicer but it didn't seem to bother you in the least bit. 

"Oh, um left side."

He moved to the back of your chair. "Take the jacket off, it's going to be in the way." Was that too forward? " Unless you're uncomfortable that way." 

"Oh, no I'm - that's a good idea." You disposed of your jacket quickly, the fresh scent of your soap greeted him as the air moved around. 

"Just try to relax." Bakugou placed his hands on your shoulders, he could feel the heat of your skin through your shirt. He moved his thumbs in a circular motion with a slight amount of force. A sudden but loud gasp fell past your lips. 'Shit, too much.' He frowned at the thought that he hurt you. "Too hard?" 

"No, it was the perfect amount of pressure." 

Katsuki felt rather pleased with your answer and started moving his thumbs again. The fabric of the shirt wasn't letting him do the best job but he wasn't sure if you'd be willing to start stripping your top for him. "This might work better if I go under your shirt." The words spilled out before he could even stop them. 

"Ohh… that's fine with me." He was having a little trouble processing your moan and the fact that your fingers were unbuttoning the top buttons of your school dress shirt. He swallowed hard as his fingers touched your skin. 

Damn your flesh was soft. He has to concentrate on remembering the task at hand, making you feel better. He noted that you began to relax against your seat, your eyes sliding shut as your bottom lip found purchase in between your teeth. 

Bakugou, couldn't help but smile, knowing that he was the source of your pleasure. His thumbs work in circles, the warmth of your skin spread through his fingers and up his arm. He couldn't believe how soft and silky your hair was as he something hand into it. He massaged gently at the base of your neck, closing his eyes as he enjoyed this moment. A small but noticeable knot could be felt under his thumb.

You jolted and moaned loudly, the sound causing his pants to tighten. He wondered if you'd do it again. He swiped over the same spot, though this time you didn't moan instead the small whimper that passed your lips made him feel hot. "Damn princess you really have a good one here." He spoke softly as you moaned, slowly relaxing again. 

"Mmmm, 'Suki." 

He could take you right there on the table, the moaning and shorten nickname driving him insane. 

A forced a small chuckle as you moan again. "Does this feel good?" He asked as he moved against the knot again. He just had to calm himself, keep control and all would be well. 

"Oh, yes right there." You collapsed against the chair. 

Katsuki was incredibly turned on, his pants did little to hide the giant tent that had grown. If you were making these noises just over a massage he could help but wonder what would escape your lips if he was fucking you against the desk, hips snapping up and diving deep into you. He was practically drooling at the mental image. 

'Fuck!' He was practically panting, his chest rapidly moving as his breathing increased. His hips rocked forward, desperately trying to find relief for his aching cock. 

His eyes snapped open at the sound of someone clearing their throat and your body ripped forward away from his hands. 

Kirishima was standing in the door way looking down at the floor. "Sorry to interrupt…" the red head looked back up at him and gave a knowing look. 

He lost control for a moment and Shitty Hair just had to catch him in the act. He was thankful for his friend killing the mood before he did something he would regret. 

"Katsuki, it's been 20 minutes!" You panicked and started to face him but before you could turn your body completely around to see his hard on he grabbed your shoulders. He faced your body forward and pulled you back against the seat. "Sit back, just another moment…" The knot was almost gone but also he needed a moment to calm down. 

He gave Kirishima a look that told the boy to distract you. The red head smirked and moved over to the front of your desk. "A knot, huh?" 

Another moan went straight to his cock as it passed your lips. He didn't care to listen to your conversation with his friend instead he thought of anything that didn't relate to you. The throbbing in his pants faded slowly as the muscle in your shoulder was significantly looser than before. 

Kirishima looked at him. This was bad. Katsuki knew it. The two of them had little to no control when it came to you. 

He allowed his fingers to slip away from your shoulders, the cross of a whimper and a moan slipped your lips. 

"You look happy." Kirishima grinned at you and Bakugou couldn't feel more relieved his friend was here, he needed to escape the room without it being to awkward. 

"Thank you Katsuki." Your voice was thick, laced with sleepiness as you started to fix your top buttons. 

Eijirou looked impressed and Katsuki couldn't help the smug smile he gave. He did that. He made you feel that good. "It was nothing. Just make sure you use hot and cold compresses tonight." He stated as he turned toward the door. "And I don't mean that Icy Hot bastard." He added as a after thought. 

"Hey, if you need another massage tonight, I can offer my services." Eijirou stated suggestively. 

"I might take you up on that offer." 

The thought didn't bother Bakugou, he didn't mind sharing with his best friend if he had too. He shook the thought immediately. "Be back in a few." With that he headed to the bathroom with full intentions of taking care of the problem in his pants. 

*****

Thoughts? 

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Caffeinated drinks, black dots and I should’ve stayed at home

Kanene’s Notes: Heya, heya awesome beans! Howz you are all doing?!

I am very glad that I finally finished this idea dfghjkderty. Shinsou was the second character that my mind screamed that I NEEDED to put in a cat cafe and kjhgtrertyu I think that one is a litol more funny and fluff than hurt/comfort, like the one with Midoriya, but worry not! In the end of the day one more kid is adopted :D

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* There is passing out due exhaustion, sleep deprivation and cursing, but besides that i don’t think that there are any more warnings. This is more funny and fluff.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Oh!! If you have an idea for another scenario in this universe, hmu! I would love to hear it !!Thankys so much for reading this. Take care! Drink water! Eat well!! Pet a cute animal today!! And please sleep a bit, okie? <3 Byeioo!~

                         [~*~]

Shinsou blinked for what it felt the fifth time on the last minutes, which was probably the same amount a normal human being was supposed to blink but right now it just felt wrong. He rubbed his stinging eyes again, suppressing another yawn, firm on his purpose to concentrate his brain enough on the task of remembering his order, an almost impossible action by the way a growing headache involved his mind since he woke up.

The teenager focused again on the colorful, full of doodles of paws and whiskers menu, wishing for the first time in nearly two months attending the place that the drinks’ names were objective and direct, and not awful cat puns that made his braincells prefer to combust themselves instead of gathering the necessary information to remind him of the beverage he should ask.

 He squinted his eyes, dots appearing in the air. Hm. Definitely not a good sign. Maybe he should order two of the most caffeinated drinks instead of just one? He stared the menu again, frustration flaming on his veins as the words blurred and lost their signification, dancing together with the café’s lights.

 And it was only 7 AM.

Perhaps he should have stayed home, on the safety of his bed and the darkness of his room. He knew he should have cancelled his training.

 And yet, even thinking about that possibility made Hitoshi’s stomach be consumed by anxious tugs and knots, leaving an unpleasant taste of displeasure on his mouth. His trainings were one of the best moments on his entire week. They were events he would catch himself smiling as he thought about a newest move he learned or how his body seemed to recover quicker from the lessons. Or even how good, how right and free he felt on the gym, tired and sore, in the moment that his mentor nodded, proudness flicking in his eyes.

 … How amazing it felt to look at the mirror and see that same feeling reflected on his own gaze.

 He couldn’t deprive himself of that sensation, even if dealing with the painful consequences of his sleep deprivation and probably a lecture if his mentor caught him was the only other options.

 “Just one more. Just one more person and then I can ask for the strongest caffeinated shit here.” Yeah. This time those cups would be enough to make him endure at least his afternoon classes, he repeated to himself in mumbles. Two cups. Two cups and some minutes petting a cat and he would be ready. He would be ready for the world and society and the whole being a functional human being thing. And then he would get on the metro and nap until he gets home where he would have the real opportunity to properly sleep. Almost there. Just two cups. Two. Two cups.

 Gosh, he probably sounded like Midoriya, mumbling non stop like this. A mental image of the energetic teen looking as tired as Shinsou and drinking coffee as if his life depended on it popped on his brain, leading to a sudden urge to giggle manically take over the purple haired boy, and for the way some other customers eyed him warily he possible vocalized that impulse as well, limbs feeling at the same time too much heavy and too much light.

 He was so fucking tired.

 “Next one!” Loud. So loud. Shinsou obligated his body to step closer, opening his eyes enough to realize that dark spots still painted his vision. Huh. When did he close his eyes, again? “Good morning, little customer! How can I help you today?”

 Hitoshi stared at the figure in front of him, senses slow like he was under water, trying to understand the distorted sentences being directed at him, the dots growing and twinkling. Black dots were supposed to be able to do that?

 The world swayed a bit under his feet. He tried to move his lips but they didn’t obey him.

 “Little customer?” The voice sounded worried, and maybe that is what compelled the boy to take a deep breath, putting all his will in forming word after word when a nauseating wave of tiredness hit him, leading his conscience’s grip in reality weaken.

 “I am going to pass out.”

 And then the world got completely black, his senses disappearing together with a background screech.

 Well, fuck.

 […]

 Yamada had seen a lot of crazy, strange things while working at the cat café.

 As example that one shift when an adult of blue hair, strict pose and clear exhaustion dripping in waterfalls from his form was convinced that he was in a library and fiercely tried to return a book to them, doesn’t taking a ‘no’ as answer until the blond was left stupefied with a book of “The Secrets Hidden in The Bottom of The Ocean” on his arms.

 Or that occasion when a boy with a blank expression wearing Victorian clothes and completely surrounded by crows opened their door, looked from a side to another, stared at the deepest parts of Yamada’s soul, analyzing all his dark fears and secrets before slowly blink and say “Wrong store, my apologies” walking back and calmly ignoring the hissing and battle yowling of dozens of cats and crows.

 Or the day a green haired woman with a kind, calm aura just walked behind the counter completely unphazed by Hizashi and Aizawa’s unbelieved looks, made two healthy snacks, patted their cheeks saying ‘You two need to eat more, dears’ and then disappeared as if nothing had happened.

 However, none of those events ever prepared him for the moment which purple eyes would stare his in an unfocused state, not really looking at anything and a wobbly smirk – if he wasn’t accustomed with Shouta’s grin, he would easily call it ‘creepy’ – would paint his customer’s pale face, the silence ringing alarmingly on his ears.

 “Are you okay, little listener? Do you want to sit for a minute? You look extremely tired.”

 As the words came out of his lips, a spell seemed to break, the other’s face getting even paler, smile falling and eyes widening leaded his body to stumble forward instinctively, something on his guts screaming for him to get ready. A few other customers on the line grumbled in impatience, looking at their watch and protesting. Somewhere, in the deep part of his brain, Yamada wondered why those things only happened when Aizawa was out and no procedures for those kinds of situations were previously discussed on their contract.

 “Hey, guy,” a blonde teenager behind the paralyzed one said, tipping forward in an attempt to catch the other’s expression, his kimono following each move, “are you… here with us?”

 “Little listener?”

 A hesitant poke on his cheeks, two pair of eyes warily watching a third.

 His mouth finally moved.

 “I am going to pass out.” His voice was light, stitched together by certain. His legs trembled under his own weight, body collapsing.

 “You WHAT?” A terrified shriek mixed itself between Hizashi’s words, flying across the whole store.

 “Oh, shi-”

 His blonde client didn’t waste a second before holding the other, arms locking under his armpits in a strange kind of hug, knees weakening with the sudden, unexpected effort, the limp teenager not even flinching with the touch, laying there completely motionless.

 Hizashi blinked, gulping, adrenaline exploding on each one of his fibers, color slightly draining from his own face, a piece of his conscience wishing with all its strength for this to be only a dream. When his eyes opened, everything would be the same.

 He blinked, the deafening silence still crushing the room, one set of black eyes staring at him in confusion and growing panic, another set closed, heavy, dark circles under it.

 Right. He didn’t have time for this.

 So, he blinked again, finding himself in front of them both, pushing his feelings under a mask of a calm, an easy reassuring smile already slipping on his face, crouching to get the legs of his customer, catching the gaze the other and winking, “let’s get him on a more comfortable position, right?”

 A determined nod, quick, careful steps as they both laid the purple haired one on a small couch placed under some shelves, having to gently dislodge three sleeping cats, who hissed in irritation. The voice of Nemuri, attending the rest of the line filling the space and being acknowledged in the back of his mind, serving as a firm ground and helping his muscles to relax, even if just a little bit.

 Hizashi stared the young boy in front of him, looking somewhat peaceful, a bit of color having already returned to his face, soft snores coming out from him.

 … Hitoshi. That is his name, right? He wasn’t a new client, always coming at every fifteen days, always by morning and always caffeinated drinks that only Yamada - on his most delirious moments - ever thought in trying, quick to go to play with any feline who appeared in front of him. Although, he never stayed more than ten minutes, the quiets ‘bye’s he gave to the felines never failing to melt Yamada’s weak, bleeding heart.

 A childish voice pulled him right out of his thoughts.

 “Mom, is he dead?”

A snort escaped his lips before he could help it. Kids.

 “Sir?” The teenager shook a small device with a shiny screen in front of him, the logo of a new rock band he hadn’t a chance to listen to yet on the background “I found his phone, I think we should call his emergency contact…?”

 “Of course! Thank you, little helper!” He ruffles his hair, flashing a smile and thumbs up as his finger quickly clicked on the call button, listening, not trying to show his impatience as it ringed.

 “You’re late.” A tired voice answered him, and Hizashi felt his entire body relax completely, right before the surprise shook its frame, too much pieces clicking together in a puzzle he didn’t even know he was solving.

 “SHOU?”

 [~*~]

 “I am sorry.”

 “You will be writing a formal letter apologizing to Hizashi, Nemuri and to me, our classes will be cancelled for this week and, if I notice you didn’t recover properly on this free time, for the next week as well. I am not going to stand by and watch you running yourself to the ground, damaging your potential because you lack of some sense of self preservation, do I make myself clear?” Shinsou tried to not visibly flinch at his sensei’s words. He almost forgot how much intimidating Aizawa could be when totally serious. They stopped by the Cat Café’s door, the black eyes staring at him.

 “Yes, sir.” He answered, lowering his gaze. Shouta sighed, his worry stopping to come out as harsh and necessary words to materialize itself in the form of him patting the boy’s head, messing his hair for a few seconds before opening the door and getting into the establishment.

 “Good. Now come in, Hizashi has been worried and he won’t stop pestering me until he sees with his own eyes how you are.”

 Hitoshi didn’t had time to question how someone that he just met – if you consider passing out in front of him a proper meeting – could be worried about his well-being when, as the door clicked behind him, an excited screech filled the room, forging the realization that maybe that weird high sound before his faint wasn’t just the ring of his ears.

 “SHINSOU!!” And, in a blink of eyes, the blonde was in front of him, hands on his face, turning it from a side to another, up and downwards, “You look so much better with some color on your face! I am glad that you finally took some necessary rest, huh? Your eyeshadows even got lighter, which, phew, is such a relief! For a very terrifying moment there I almost thought you would be as bad as this guy right here.” Yamada locked his arms around Aizawa’s shoulder, using the time to take a breather and smile, gladly giving the younger some time to process the flow of words thrown at him. “You gave us both quite a scare, kiddo.”

 “I am deeply sorry for inconveniencing you and interrupting your work, Yamada-san.” He bowed, a slight embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks.

 “Just please don’t do that again and you will be fine, little customer.” Hizashi then squinted his eyes on his direction as Hioshi brought himself back to his previous position, shoulders tense and straightened back, much different from his previous more slouched pose. Yamada’s eyes got a few inches wider. “You gave him The Talk!” He turned himself to Shouta, his excited sentence, loud enough to probably making his friend deaf, if the black haired adult wasn’t already used with the other’s attics, previously covering his ears before the outburst.

 His response was a grunt, Aizawa dislodging himself from his touch with scoff and half heartedly mumbles, ignoring the confusion on his pupil’s gaze. “Maybe he looks like that because of your total disregarding of personal space.”

 “Don’t worry,” Hizashi put his hand at the side of his mouth, as if he was confiding Shinsou’s a secret. “He only does that because he is worried about you, too. Don’t let yourself to be fooled by his grumpy façade. He is a mother hen at heart.”

 “I am going to lock you outside and give all your CD’s to the kittens a their new toys.” The other threatened, going behind the balcony and turning the coffee machines on, preparing the store to open. The few cats who were already wandering around the place yowled and meowed in despair, as if the blonde hadn’t feed them fifteen minutes ago and they were starving under the hands of such unloving and uncaring creature. Aizawa crouched and distributed the treats hidden on his pockets for everyone of them, nevertheless. His friend used the distraction to mouth a ‘see?’ at the younger’s direction, eliciting a snicker from him, his body language more relaxed.

 “Feel free to do whatever,” Aizawa proclaimed, not staring at the boy, who felt a flower of warmth blossom on his chest. “Just be sure that all your homework is completed by lunch time or the moment you decide to go. Sushi is probably napping now, but when she wakes up, I will warn you.”

 “But first,” Hizashi clapped, capturing the attention as he walked with a dance on his step to the bakeries, taking two plate on his way. “breakfast! For you both. And that means something substantial and not just a cup of coffee.”

 Shinsou startled from the table he decided to place himself, shaking his head. “Yamada-san, it’s okay, you don’t need to-”

 “Nonsense, nonsense! I want to. Eating breakfast alone is just sooo boring, you know?” Hizashi spun on the place, almost throwing the muffins and breads around as Ochaco used his distraction to attack his shoelaces. “Uravity, stop, I need those.”

“Her name isn’t Uravity.” Shouta appeared again, bringing drinks and yawning, his focus changed to the boy’s. “Better give up. I’ve been fighting against him for years now.”

 “Also, her name is Ochaco Uravity Fluffy Second and you just refuse to call her that because you’re just jealous of how much genius I am.”

 “I refuse to call her that because I care for her sanity.”

 “Lies, lies.”

 Hitoshi snorted, hiding his smirk behind his hand. “I prefer his name better, sensei.”

 Aizawa watched them high five between the cheers of the blonde with an unimpressed expression. “Cheeky brat.”

 “You’re just grumpy because he has a good taste. Friendship ended with Shouta, now Shinsou is my new best friend.”

"I am truly devasted." Aizawa deadpanned, taking a long sip of his beverage, hiding his smirk as Shinsou snorted, Yamada's dramatic wailing in the background.

 And, as the playful bickering engulfed them between the warm food and purrs, Hitoshi decided that maybe losing his weekly training wasn’t so bad if that was what waited for him.  

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone

A Tyler Rake/Established Female OC fic

Summary: A lot changes in five years. Now a family of nine, the Rakes are splitting their time between Australia and New York City. With Dhaka nothing but a distant yet still painful memory and the dirty work mostly behind him, Tyler is healthy and thriving. Not only as a husband and father, but as the acting founder and boss of his own mercenary business and co-owner of his wife's well loved and flourishing bookstore. But while love and domestic happiness abound, the past and its secrets are never far behind.

Huge thanks and tons of love to @tragiclyhip​ for never letting me give up! It’s thanks to her I ever actually finished off the last fic, or started this one.  And she also made my incredible banner! <3 <3 <3

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​

Prologue

FIVE YEARS LATER

******

The stand sits fifteen feet above ground and wraps halfway around the gnarled and twisted trunk of a centuries old Kapok tree. No hunter has made use of it in years; the stairs leading upwards weakened by harsh weather and neglect, wood cracking and bowing under the soles of well worn combat boots. Despite the added weight of gear and a kevlar utility vest, long legs and a wide stride make it easy to navigate the missing steps. His movements are purposeful and quiet; careful to avoid even the slightest snap of a twig or the rustle of dried and fallen leaves or the scratch of dirt and pebbles against the pitted and fragile wood. Any sound is a detriment in this environment; the lush and dense landscape so eerily still and silent that even a hint of noise would seem deafening. The slightest of movement has the potential to stir up the wildlife, which in turn would draw unwanted attention upwards from the banks of the Mekong River.

Even under the thick and expansive umbrella of the forest the heat is stifling. Humidity oppressive and choking. A thin layer of sweat gathers on his brow; errants droplets burning his eyes and gathering on the ends of his lashes. His shirt -long sleeved to not only provide cover in the jungle but protect from scrapes and cuts and the burn of the sun- nearly soaked right through; darkened patches under the arms and at the small of the back, the fabric clinging to dampened and slick skin. Fine beads settle around his mouth, and when he drops into a crouch at the top of the stand, he swipes his tongue over his top lip in an effort to clear away the sweat. It had been an hour hike through the jungle; moving swiftly and silently as he listened to directions being given through a transmitter he sports in his left ear. It’s sweltering and he’s thirsty; head pounding and his hands begin to tremble as the beginning stages of dehydration begin to settle in. He takes the time to remedy the situation. Shrugging off the rucksack slung over his left shoulder and dropping it onto the floor of the stand; hands shaking yet able to tear open the zipper. There’s two bottles of water packed in amongst the gear; extra pairs of socks in case of treks through swamps and marshes, two full clips of ammo that will only be used if someone on the other side is able to pinpoint his location and launch a full scale and fully armed search.

He hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Downing half a bottle of water, he uses the remains to cool himself down; splashing a handful of the liquid against his face and then dumping the rest over his head. Ten years ago, the elements wouldn’t have bothered him as much; he would have been thirty seven years old and still in relatively good shape. Physically AND mentally. And despite a consistent and punishing routine of heavy lifting, core training, and cardio, he’s definitely feeling the effects of both age and decades of hard and often dangerous living. Knees stiff and aching from the brisk hike over rough terrain and then through mud and thick brush; the arthritis that takes up residence in the small of his back and the right hip making its presence known. He’ll be sore tomorrow; every step he takes will send pain shooting through him, and for the next week he’ll wonder just why the hell he ever said ‘yes’ in the first place. Each stiff movement and slow step and aching muscle will remind him of just how things HAVE changed over the years. Gone are the days when he could skip a few days sleep; able to function on both little rest and minuscule amounts of food and drink. There’s no way he’d be able to do THAT now; push his body to the limits he’d been testing for so long. That man no longer exists. The one that would take the most dangerous and unpredictable jobs in hopes of catching a bullet. Who’d almost pray, beg and plead each and every time he went out that it would be his last; one sniper’s shot away from finally being put out of his miserable existence.

Things changed, of course. When he’d been least expecting them to. There’s way too much to lose now. It’s why every decision he makes now...every movement...matters so much. Even the smallest of mistakes can change the course of the future; one misstep potentially blowing his cover and leading to his untimely -and likely extremely brutal and bloody- demise. An hour away a helicopter waits for him; on standby to whisk him back to Vietnam and that little ‘hole in the wall’ hotel he’d been staying in. A quick shower and he’d back in the air; rushed to the nearest backwoods airport where a private jet would take him home. It’s been four days now; two spent in the planning stages before his first ‘hit’ in Laos and then the trek to Cambodia. Two for the price of one, Anil had said, although money matters very little now. These kinds of gigs are more a service; wiping out the dregs of society more of a gift to humanity than anything else.

He normally doesn’t take on jobs. A total of three in the past five years. This is the fourth AND fifth. The skills and the mindset quickly and effortlessly returning, the first kill a lot easier than he’d thought it would be. It’s like riding a bike; once the gun is in your hand and you’re peering through that scope, your finger easily finds and pulls the trigger. And this job had been impossible to turn down; the dirty and vile details hitting home and preying on his ‘human side’. Anyone in his position as a husband and father would have been enraged and disgusted. Drug runners and weapons smugglers that moonlight in abusing and torturing their wives and exploiting children. Sometimes even their own. People that evil don’t deserve to live; even a bullet between the eyes considered too kind. But it’s all he has time for. No ‘face to face’ meetings. He can’t be seen or even identified by name in order to protect his OWN family. He has to remain a ghost. An urban legend of sorts. Talked and gossiped about in drug circles and even among the local police and military who’d either been paid off by the criminals or had been hopeless and hapless when it came to stopping the activity. Nothing will be known about him. No glimpse of his appearance, no chance to hear his voice or even know his name. He’ll be known for just those ‘lucky shots’ he’d gotten in. Turned in to nothing more than rumours and speculation that will continue spreading long after he’s gone.

***

“T...you there?” Yaz’ voice through the earpiece. The reception is spotty; words broken up by heavy static.

He uses a forearm to wipe the mixture of water and sweat from his face, then lays a finger against the transmitter clipped to his vest. “I’m here.”

“Hot out there today, isn’t it.”

He smirks, then begins pulling pieces of a semi automatic rifle from the confines of the rucksack; hands moving quickly and efficiently as they snap and twist the weapon together. “I don’t want to hear your bitching. You’ve got air conditioning. I’m the one out in this shit.” His voice is low and quiet as he speaks. Even the smallest of sounds can travel great distances; echoing through the jungle and making its way down to the banks of the Mekong.

The river sits fifty yards to the south; muddy and heavily polluted and dotted with boats belonging to local fisherman. One vessel stands out from the crowd. A large and expensive houseboat; the chrome that lines the powerful motor and makes up the railings on the top deck sparkling in the sunlight. His mark is inside; meeting with some of Anil’s people acting under the guise of weapons buyers. When the time is right, the man in question will be led out onto the bottom deck and he’ll have one shot to get the job done. It’s another reason Anil had personally sought him out; his marksmanship impeccable, no other employee coming close to possessing that level of skill.

“You good?” Yaz inquires.

“Yeah…” he snaps the magazine in place and then switches off the safety. “...I’m good.”

“I’ll let you know when there’s movement. Going silent for now.”

He tears off the lid of the second bottle of water and takes a single sip before setting it down; using his sleeve to wipe both the opening and every side of the plastic. He can’t leave any trace of himself behind. Not a drop of sweat or a hint of saliva or his fingerprints. He’ll wipe the stand down before he leaves; methodically cleaning anything he may have come in contact with. IF his location is discovered, money talks. Anyone remotely related to his mark will pay to get answers, and the police will take what’s offered and collect every shred of possible evidence. He can’t take that chance. A single, unattached person may not care. Had he still been the guy living in the rundown and beaten up shack in the outback, he wouldn’t have thought twice about covering his tracks. But lives depend on him. A wife and seven beautiful little humans that count on him to protect them and keep them safe.

He CAN’T fuck this up.

Up in the stand he’s well hidden; camouflaged by the abundance of thick, lush greenery. It’ll be a tough shot through twisted and tangled branches; not even a foot of clearance between wood and leaves. Depending on exactly where his mark is led, he’ll compensate for that; pulling to the right or left in order to prevent the bullet from getting too ‘dirty’. He’s made tougher shots; mostly in his SASR days. And there’s no doubt he’ll make this one.

He bunches up the ruck sack and places it near the edge of the stand, facing the river. He’ll use it as both a ledge and a form of cushioning; balancing the long barrel of the rifle will provide stability and muffle the sound of the shot, disguising where it had originated from. He winces as he gingerly lowers himself onto his stomach; the cracking in his hip and the soreness in both knee and shoulder reminding him that he’s not as young as he used to be. Forty-seven is ancient in mercenary years. Most never make it that far. The odd few get to retire peacefully, but the majority are taken out by a bullet; one too many lapses in judgment and the smallest of errors leading to their deaths.

But most never get to have what he does either. A normal life with a family that loves him ; thousands of miles away, anxiously awaiting his return. It’s why he’s so careful; every decision he makes and every action he takes is done with them at the forefront of his mind. And he thinks about them now; warm and safe in the confines of a townhome in New York City. Four days ago they’d travelled from Australia and he’d promised to meet up with them as soon as the job was finished. It’s their third Christmas there; an eight bedroom brownstone in Gramercy Park. The kids especially enjoy spending the holidays there. Quickly falling in love with the idea of a white Christmas and enjoying all of the outdoor activities; sledding and skating and seeing the tree at Rockefeller Centre and visiting Santa and the reindeer in Central Park. And while life in the Big Apple had never appealed to him, the draw of Gramercy had been impossible to resist. Quiet and quaint; tree lined streets and a private park and neighbours that mind their own business and don’t ask too many questions. He’d initially worried about standing out like a sore thumb; tanned skinned and the array of tattoos and scars and the ‘Down Under’ accent. It turned out to be everything he HADN'T expected. The feeling of small town life within an enormous city.

The back of his hand swipes at the locusts and mosquitos that hover close to his face; their buzzing and humming both tickling and irritating his ears. The right isn’t as good as it used to be; hearing slightly muted and distorted thanks to years of both firing and coming in close contact with weapons. It’s another drawback to getting old. Along with his eyesight. Needing glasses to read or to spend anytime staring at a computer screen.

“They’re on the move.”

He blinks sweat from his eyes and wipes his lips and chin on the sleeve of his shirt. Then he settles in; bending his left leg at the knee and wriggling his stomach against the wood beneath him. The latter is mind over matter; as if the simple movement and the way he presses the toes of boots against the stand will improve both shot and stability. His finger hovers over the trigger; other hand lightly supporting the barrel of the gun, allowing the rucksack to bear the majority of the weight. Anil’s people come out first; identified by the tan linen suits he’d been told they’d be sporting. The ‘Mark’ is a middle aged man, clad in casual attire; olive green cargo shorts and a simple white golf shirt. He’s short and stocky with greying hair and a noticeable limp; a run in with a rival drug crew years ago resulting in the amputation of his leg and the acquisition of a prosthetic device.

His jaw clenches and his lips settle into a thin, pursed line. His heart hammers in his chest and both his shoulders and his chest tighten. It’s adrenaline. That unmistakable rush that comes before an imminent strike. He remembers it well. And it’s both surprising and disheartening how much he’s actually missed it.

As they chatter and laugh, one of Anil’s men places a hand on the Mark’s back and ever so slightly turns the other man in Tyler’s direction. It’s all he needs; just enough of the Mark’s forehead to ensure a ‘kill shot’. And he takes it; the sound slightly muffled but still deafening as it echoes through the jungle and stirs birds from their perches and wildlife from the safety of their nests and dens. The bullet easily tears through layers of leaves and bypasses branches; finding its target and sending the Mark sprawling backwards and then down into a pool of brain matter, fragments of skull, and quickly spreading blood.

“Target’s down.”

The words are simple. To the point. And as chaos erupts down by the river, he calmly begins his retreat; pushing himself up onto his feet and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. There’s no pressing need or rush; Anil’s people have made their quick escape and the screams and shouts are coming from startled fisherman and colleagues of the Mark that had been inside the houseboat. He has time; methodically cleaning every inch of both the stand and the stairs and making sure he’s left nothing behind.

“I’m heading back,” he says, shouldering the ruck sack and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s suddenly anxious to get on his way; feeling the relief that sets in as he begins his hour long trek.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Not from the success of the mission or the satisfaction that comes with ridding the world of yet another monster. It’s one of happiness. One of peace.

The realization that each step he takes brings him closer to home.