#nurses are nice and friendly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artdcnaldson · 6 months ago

Text

changeover || art donaldson x reader ; patrick zweig x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex x2, fingering, f!recieving oral), drinking, pining after people you can’t have, a dash of reader x tashi, sprinkles of patrick x art, porn WITH plot

Summary: your ‘casual’ fling with art isn’t working for you anymore, which sucks because you probably love the guy. enter a freshly heartbroken patrick to take your mind off of things.

FALL 2006

You knew exactly why Art Donaldson refused to acknowledge that you were an item. You could see it clearly across the room— the way you were cast to the shadows while he followed Tashi around like a lost puppy.

It made sense, even if it made your chest ache. Tashi was gorgeous, and was acing her classes, and was going to go pro soon and become a beautiful, all-American sports icon. And you were just some girl he’d met because he needed help understanding the reading for class.

You’d known each other for months by then— hooking up, going on dates that ‘weren’t dates,’ spending most of your time together. And you stayed firmly in the no-labels zone. But you weren’t bitter. It was totally fine, being treated like a girlfriend in all but name.

Art laughed and leaned into Tashi. It was totally fine.

You were nursing a beer in a red solo cup and trying your best to look friendly and approachable. The only reason you were even at the party was because Art had brought you, so you should’ve felt grateful. You should’ve been having fun.

But just as soon as you’d arrived, he’d slipped away with a promise to be right back. It had been over an hour, so it seemed like you had very different definitions of right back.

“Looks like your boyfriend stole my girlfriend.” You turned to see Patrick, tanned from his time on tour. He was only going to be at Stanford for the weekend before taking off for a challenger a state over, which meant he needed to capitalize on any chance to spend time with Art and Tashi.

Unfortunately, you’d both been ditched.

“Art isn’t my boyfriend,” you said pointedly, maybe a little too quickly.

Patrick knew better. The last time he came to visit, he’d interrupted a pseudo date night between the two of you (which was a nice way of saying he walked in on the two of you in Art’s dorm while his best friend was was knuckles deep in you). The rest of that night wound up being spent passing around mixed drinks made with cheap vodka and whatever you could get from the nearest vending machine. You overheard the it’s casual, nothing serious conversation they’d had through the ajar door while you bought more Powerade and Red Bull in the hall.

But you were being so understanding and cool about that.

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly. “Really?” The corner of his mouth tugged upwards for a moment before he wrapped his lips around a beer can. He tried to hide it, but you saw.

You chewed on your lip, stomach twisting with nerves and curiosity. He was probably just messing with you, trying to get your thoughts all muddled up about Art because it was fun. Still, you couldn’t help but ask the burning question echoing through your mind. “Did Art say something to you? About us, I mean.”

The question felt pathetic. A stupid, desperate girl begging to know if the guy she liked felt the same way.

Patrick shrugged, leaning against the wall bearing the portraits of the ghosts of frat brothers’ past. “Not directly. But you’re here together, right? And he’s still seeing you.”

“I guess,” you replied with a huff, embarrassment burning hot in your chest.

“If you’re worried about Tashi, don’t be,” Patrick said, sparing a glance in her direction. When you looked towards Art, and the way he was smiling and laughing and looked so natural beside her, a frown turned your lips. Patrick nudged your arm and offered a smile. “Hey, I’m serious. Nothing’s gonna happen there. Trust me.”

It should’ve felt nice. A total reassurance from the person who knew Art best. But it did nothing to quell the turmoil twisting in the pit of your stomach. Because if he really did feel that way, why was he over there with her?

Tashi Duncan. So beautiful, radiant, and perfect that she had total control over two men. Your paths didn’t cross much, outside of Art, and that was rare since he liked to keep you two apart.

But there was a part of you that knew that Tashi would’ve been able to make you melt with one look, one smile, one word. You wanted to experience what Art did. You wanted to know what Patrick knew, and what Art was jealous of. Or maybe you wanted something of your own too, something to keep Art out of.

“I need another drink,” you said suddenly, meeting Patrick’s gaze. “Do you wanna come with me?” Patrick’s eyes flitted quickly towards Tashi, where she bantered with Art and the rest of the tennis team.

There was something in his expression you found incredibly familiar. That pang of jealousy. The ache of not belonging just right. The look was gone quickly, replaced by a toothy smile. “Sure. I could use something stronger.”

——

An hour later, Tashi left with Patrick, and Art quickly decided to take you back to his own dorm.

His lips were insistent against yours, kissing you hungrily, completely dissonant to the delicate way he tugged down the zipper of your dress. His fingers were warm where they brushed along the line of your spine. His tongue brushed against yours, tasting of beer and mint gum.

“What were you doing with him?” He murmured against your lips just as he peeled off the cheap, bodycon dress you’d gotten from Forever 21. It was tossed across the room, to be lost in the mess of practice duffles and empty water bottles and dirty laundry. The only time he parted his lips from you was to lift you onto his bed and slot himself between your thighs.

His tongue licked into your mouth possessively, claiming you as his from the inside out. You gasped as one of his hands kneaded your breast, panting open-mouthed against his lips. “Who?” You managed weakly, your mind completely blank except for Art, Art, Art. And maybe a tiny voice in the back of your head that was still thinking about the Tashi of it all.

“Patrick.” His voice was soft against the tender skin of your jaw. “I saw you two talk, then you disappeared for, like, an hour.” His teeth nipped gently at your pulse point as he nuzzled against your throat, awaiting your answer.

So he had been watching? He was with her, but he was still thinking about you. It made your heart flutter. You moaned softly as his hand slid between your thighs, teasing you through your panties. “Getting drinks,” you managed feebly. “Fuck, Art, I can’t concentrate while y—“

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties, teasing you with delicate touches. “Just drinks? For an hour?”

A strangled gasp escaped you as fingers slick with your arousal met your clit. When your eyes opened in surprise, you found Art staring right back. His touch was relentless, flooding your senses with pleasure as he demanded an answer. “We were in the living room,” you managed between soft pants and moans. “He was telling me about the— god— about the tour.”

Art’s expression flickered slightly— a tiny furrow forming between his brows. Was it doubt, or possessiveness, or anger? Before you could figure it out, his lips were against your throat, your panties were pushed to the side, and he was easing two fingers inside of your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried out, grasping onto his shoulders. French manicured nails scratched at the pastel-colored polo he wore— why was he still wearing his clothes? Soft, keening moans slipped past your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. Every thought of him preferring Tashi or him leading you on slipped from the front of your mind as his thumb rubbed at your clit.

With a free hand, you palmed him over his pants, relishing in the way he panted against your warm skin. You made quick work of the button of his jeans— you knew your way around him like the back of your hand. He was warm, pulsing in your delicate grip when your hand slipped beneath the band of his briefs. Slick at his tip with need.

He moaned against your pulse point, nuzzling against you as you began to jerk him off in time with each pump of his fingers.

“You smell like him,” he groaned, nose pressed to the spot just beneath your ear as his hips bucked into your fist with a new sort of desperation. You didn’t have to ask who he meant. His tongue slipped out, lapping at you briefly before sucking a bruise into the delicate skin there.

His fingers flexed so they brushed against the sweet spot within you. Your eyes rolled back and a sob of pleasure clawed its way from your throat. “Need you,” you pleaded, equal parts a thoughtless cry and a demand.

And who was he to deny either of you that? A pitiful whine escaped your lips when he slipped his fingers from within you and moved your hand from him. He stood to clumsily pull off the rest of his clothes at the same time that you quickly shimmied off your panties and tossed them to the side.

”You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned as he joined you back on the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You were so pliant and sweet beneath him, looking up at him with adoring doe-eyes and a pretty smile on your spit-slick lips. He should’ve been perfectly content.

As he parted your thighs, stroking his dick as he lined himself up with your entrance, he wondered if Tashi and Patrick were doing the same exact thing at that same exact moment. He could imagine it clearly— Tashi, splayed out on her bed, and Patrick right at home between her thighs; sinking in, faces contorting with pleasure. Before he could stop himself, a soft moan slipped past his lips at the mental image.

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he sheathed himself within you, and he buried his face into your neck. Fuck. You really did smell like Patrick. The shitty Axe body spray that was supposed to smell like chocolate, and the lingering scent of cigarettes.

You moaned prettily, pussy squeezing him like a vise. Manicured nails scratched against his back, delicate enough that the marks would probably disappear by that time the next day. He was so used to Patrick lounging shirtless around their hotel rooms after tournaments— severe-looking scratch marks looking like angel wings against his pale skin. He always wore them like a badge of honor the night after he snuck off with some pretty girl he’d set his sights on. That’s how you know you’re doing it right.

Why was he thinking about Patrick?

He tried to lose himself in you— in how pretty you were beneath him, the sweet words falling from your lips with each thrust. Feels so good, Art. ‘M so close already. Gonna make me cum.

When he looked down at you, your mouth hung open, lips shiny with spit, begging to be kissed. His mouth met yours messily and you both moaned into the kiss. He moved a hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit as he bullied his cock into your inviting cunt.

You came with a string of moans and expletives that made the person next door bang on the wall out of annoyance. Art had to pull out as soon as he felt you start to squeeze around him. All it took was a few clumsy strokes and he was spilling onto your stomach with an almost embarrassing whine.

You both lay there catching your breath and cursing the shitty air conditioning in the dorm. He wiped the mess of cum off of your stomach with an old tee shirt that was hanging off the side of his desk and tossed it to the side to be dealt with later.

“You’re so gross,” you mumbled with a tiny laugh, reaching down to grab your underwear from your floor. After you pulled them back on, you watched him dig through a pile of clothes in a papasan chair for a passable pair of pajama pants. An amused smile played on your lips at the sight. “Do I need to buy you a hamper?”

He held up a pair of pajama pants to examine them, shrugged, and pulled them on. “I have one, it’s just full.” A boyish grin spread across his lips as he crossed the room towards his dresser. He tossed a random tee shirt from the drawer in your direction and climbed on the bed, grinning down at you. “See? I have clean clothes.”

You laughed as you pulled the shirt over your head, then turned on your side to face him. His eyes flickered from your face, down to the shirt, then back. You wrinkled your face in confusion and peered down at the shirt.

“What? What does it say?” You asked with a laugh. You held it out, squinting to make sense of the graphic— faded and upside down. Finally, your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! I thought you were more of a Maroon 5 and Justin Timberlake guy. I’ve never even seen a Blink-182 CD in your stuff before.”

Art cleared his throat and shrugged, thumbing the bottom of the tee shirt absentmindedly. “I went with Patrick a few years back.”

A smile turned your lips. “It’s sweet that you two are such good friends.” You reached over, brushing his curls from his forehead. He turned, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Did you and Tashi have fun tonight?” The insecurity in your words was palpable.

Art shrugged. “A party’s a party, y’know?” He leaned into your touch, letting you play with his hair. “Just lost track of time. I won’t run off on you next time.”

You chewed your lip shyly. “I think it’d be nice for the three of us to hang out sometime,” you said, watching his expression to gauge his reaction.

“C’mere,” he said with a tired smile, effectively avoiding your suggestion. When he pulled you against his side, he nuzzled his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His breath tickled with each exhale, which made you squirm, but every so often he’d place a chaste kiss on the skin there and you’d forget why you wanted to ask him to move.

In the morning, when you woke up to his alarm clock blaring a local radio station, you realized it was the first time he’d let you stay the night.

SPRING 2007

After your second drink, you decided that Art Donaldson had hung you out to dry for the last time. Well, probably the last time.

Most likely not the last time.

Knowing yourself, you’d be clinging to his side like a lost puppy in a few weeks’ time, if you even had the dignity to give it that long. The second his attention turned to you again, you knew you’d be absolutely relishing in the special affection he always gave you when he was experiencing Tashi-related withdrawal.

You were so stupidly in love (or in lust, or in whatever) with him that you’d accept just about anything he could throw at you.

No labels, just casual? Fine. Ignoring you all night then conveniently remembering you exist when he’s horny and ready to go back to his dorm? Whatever. You’re game.

You’d gone to every match, watched a few practices. Helped him study for exams, let him borrow the notecards you’d painstakingly written over the course of the semester. Jesus, you even wrote a few essays for him when his schedule got crowded and he just couldn’t manage.

All you asked in return was a date to a stupid formal, and he ditched you last minute for Tashi. Again. And you couldn’t even get pissed about it without feeling guilty, because she’d fucking gotten injured and it wasn’t her fault that the guy you were into was carrying a torch for her instead.

“You’ve been staring down the Reese’s Pieces for the last five minutes.” The familiar voice startled you from your sulking. The world filtered back in suddenly— the blaring music, the smell of cigarettes and pot, the chatter of people wandering in and out of neighboring dorms. When you turned, Patrick Zweig was leaning against the vending machine beside you, carrying a large Tennis bag and backpack on both of his shoulders. “Do you need five bucks?”

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” You asked, brows furrowed with confusion. “I heard about her match. I just figured that you’d…“ You trailed off as you noticed the thinly veiled kicked-puppy expression he wore. “Oh.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s… it’s over. Did you want the Reese’s, or not?”

“No,” you shook your head and laughed. “I just needed…” you trailed off. What was it you needed, again?

You needed Art. A date to the formal. You needed to feel desirable and cared for. You needed him to get his head out of his ass and just fucking commit. You needed to tell Art to fuck off and find another groupie. You needed…

“Another drink?” Patrick suggested.

You nodded eagerly like that’s what you’d been thinking all along. “Yes. Another drink.” You paused, glancing at his bags. “Do you want to drop your things in my room first? My roommate is in Iowa, or something. She won’t mind.”

Your dorm was decorated in shades of pink and green, with a ruffled bedspread and faux fur pillows and blankets. You bent down to retrieve two bottles of Smirnoff Ice from a mini fridge. Patrick did his best to look away like a gentleman would.

Well, he did his best. It wasn’t exactly his fault that his options were to look at your tight jeans or the bulletin board above your desk that was essentially an Art Donaldson shrine.

Pretty pink push pins held up a photo of the two of you after one of his matches, both beaming at the camera. Then there were little notes he’d written you in his boyish scrawl. Tickets to movies you’d gone to see and tickets to his matches.

“Here,” you said, drawing his attention back to you, thankfully in an upright position. You’d already popped the bottle caps off the radioactive blue drink you handed him. You were chewing your lip shyly, sweetly. “It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?”

“What?” He took a drink and nearly grimaced at the sweetness. After he finished it, he’d need to go find something stronger.

You sighed and took a long drink yourself. “I dunno, the whole… thing. Art.” You absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shirt. “I mean, what girl with any self-respect lets a guy just screw her for months with no commitment?”

“Maybe self-respect is overrated.” He laughed and stepped closer. “Full disclosure? I only came here hoping that I could fuck someone and spend the night in their dorm. Free booze was a plus.”

“We’re in the same boat then,” You said, gazing up at him through your lashes. “We’re both jilted lovers who need a distraction.”

You tilted the bottom of the bottle up, chugging down the contents. When you were done, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rolled your neck out. “Bottoms up,” you said with a coy smile. “Let’s find something stronger.”

——

An hour later, something by the Pussycat Dolls was blaring through a set of speakers in a darkened common area. You were the fun kind of tipsy, where you started to care less about everyone else and just found yourself buzzed in that light, easy kind of way. You danced to the beat without a care in the world while Patrick sat on the arm of a couch and nursed his beer.

His eyes were glued to your body as you moved, almost hypnotic beneath the red Christmas lights that had been stapled around the ceiling. Your shirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of stomach that you either didn’t notice or didn’t care to cover up.

The only thought running through his head? Art was a fucking idiot.

You glanced over at him and nodded for him to join you. He didn’t move, so, not one to give up, you joined him over on the couch. When he went for a drink, you tipped up the bottom of the beer can and forced him to finish it, even as it spilled past his lips and down his chin.

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

With a pleased smile, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the middle of the room to dance.

He shook his head as you tried to make him dance— your hands on his hips, pushing and pulling and trying and failing to make him move. “No, no. I don’t dance,” he explained, as firmly as he could stand to be.

“Because you can’t? Or because you think you’re too cool?” You asked, raising a brow. He rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “C’mon, if you dance, I’ll tell you a secret.”

That did make him laugh. “What are you, five?”

With a shrug, you took his hands into yours and moved them to your hips. There was a hesitance in his touch, at first. But then his fingers splayed against exposed skin, and you were so warm. Your hips began moving to the beat beneath his hands. “See? We’re dancing,” you said, peering up at him through long lashes.

You looked genuinely victorious when he finally started dancing… kind of. It was less of an action and more of an acceptance. It had been abundantly obvious since the moment he walked into your dorm room that you wanted to end the night with him. Maybe it was because you thought it would hurt Art, or maybe it was because he was there and he was feeling the exact same things you were.

He’d done his best to resist out of some lingering sense that he could repair things with Tashi, and the hope that maybe Art’s spite would fade and they’d be friends again.

Despite skipping the whole college thing, Patrick wasn’t an idiot. He knew better. The second Tashi fell on that court, both of those doors slammed in his face.

And you were so close to him that he could smell the liquor on your breath. And Victoria’s Secret body spray. Mostly the liquor, though. He was barely moving, but you— you were something else. Hips moving against the thigh he’d slotted between your legs, arms trailing up his chest so you could sling them around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer. Even though you were grinding against each other like two horny middle-schoolers at their first dance, he’d had enough to drink that he didn’t really give a fuck. When he moved his hands from your hips to grab your ass, you gasped and laughed like it was the best thing in the world.

Your body moved so effortlessly that anything he could have possibly done would’ve looked clunky and clumsy. He groaned when you brushed against him just right, and he could tell by your smug expression that you knew exactly how you were affecting him.

You leaned in, chest to chest. “Can I tell you the secret now?” You whispered, lips brushing against the line of his jaw. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I think it’d be a bad idea for us to fuck. We’re both in a bad place.”

“Mhmm. Bad idea,” he echoed. He wanted to reach out and grab your jaw, to tilt your face up and kiss you. One of your hands had slipped beneath the hem of his (Tashi’s) shirt, just barely teasing the skin there. It made him shiver and lean into the heat of your touch.

“But I still want to.” You sounded so earnest, so needy. Like you’d take anything he’d give you and thank him for it. “We can use each other to feel better, right? Just a nice, warm body and a rush of dopamine.”

It was exactly what Patrick had come to the fucking dorm rager for. To feel wanted and desired. For someone to look at him like he wasn’t actively failing at the one thing he was supposed to be the best at.

But he was good at other things.

You guided him through the crowded hallway, way more packed than they had been before you’d started dancing. It was getting later, more people were falling for the siren song of R&B and beer. You were a siren of a different making— with much more dangerous consequences than a hangover.

It almost felt wrong to be back in your innocent, frilly little dorm with the intention of fucking your brains out. But the looks you were giving him were enough proof that he wasn’t the only pervert. Before you could get too far, he pinned you up against the door, displacing a dry-erase calendar in the process.

You glanced down, eyes flitting towards the hearts around tomorrow’s date, anticipating the formal that Art had flaked on. Without looking back, you kicked the dry-erase board out of the way, a problem for later.

His lips met yours in a messy clash— teeth knocking slightly until you found a rhythm with each other. Patrick Zweig kissed like he’d been at war for fucking years and had just returned home. He kissed like he had crawled out of the desert and the only promise of water could be found on your tongue.

You’d never been kissed with that level of need and desperation— that desire— and you fucking loved it. The taste of his tongue licking into your mouth, the rumble of a moan against your own lips.

His hands were moving beneath your shirt, pushing it up as he went. A pretty whine slipped past your spit-slick lips as he squeezed your tits over your bra. Your hands stayed busy undoing his jeans. He moaned into your mouth when your fingers barely brushed against the bulge through the denim.

“That feel good?” You teased, practically breathing the words into his lungs as you slipped your hand into his boxers. He groaned in response as your hand wrapped around him and pumped slowly. There was something addicting about his need— you relished in the pulse of him, warm and bucking into your grip. And you wanted more. You wanted to be the one to make him come undone. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

His head fell back slightly as you brushed your thumb along his tip, the movement accompanied by another soft groan. The way you peered up at him with an earnest need to please made hot desire thrum within him.

��You could start by taking these clothes off,” he said, fingers roaming to tug at the strap of your bra. You started to move, slipping your hand from his boxers. Then you stopped.

“You’re not gonna help?” You asked coyly, goosebumps forming where his fingers trailed along your side, teasing at the band of the bra.

That made a tiny smirk turn at his lips. “Does Art help?” It shouldn’t have turned him on— that little flash of longing for Art in your eyes. But it did. You nodded, shifting slightly to encourage more of Patrick’s touch. “Lift your arms.”

As easy as anything, you obeyed. No banter, no push and pull for control. It was so different than what he had with Tashi (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about), and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how it always was for you and Art (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about either).

He tossed your shirt to the side and moved a single hand to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a quick movement that he’d perfected at sixteen. Painstakingly slow, he pushed each strap down your arms, until it fell at your feet and exposed your tits to the overzealous AC of the Stanford dorms.

Your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and his mouth watered in a near-Pavlovian response to the sight. His hands moved back to your chest, so he could thumb over the sensitive buds and relish in the way you shivered.

The wood of the door was cold against your shoulders as you arched into his touch. Manicured nails fumbled with the button to your jeans— you twisted and shimmied them off before kicking them to the side.

Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you over to the bed. A grin played at your lips as he practically dropped you onto it, making a decorative pillow fall to the floor.

“It was only, like, five steps,” you said with a laugh. Patrick shrugged and made quick work of his clothes. You sat up on your elbows to watch him shuck off his pants, then awkwardly hop on one foot at a time to remove his shoes and socks.

When he finally joined you on the bed, he was clad only in his boxers, which were sporting an almost comically large tent. He positioned himself over you, that shit-eating grin ever present on his face. “Can I go down on you?”

You laughed lightly in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

He nodded. “As a heart attack.” He nuzzled against your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, lemme make you feel good, okay? I live for this shit.”

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Yeah. Fuck. You can.”

He trailed his lips down your jaw, then your sternum. He stopped only briefly to suck each nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch into him. Your hand moved into his hair, and he moaned against your tit as you tugged slightly.

You watched him kiss down your stomach and peel your panties down your legs with his teeth through half-lidded eyes. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he slowly kissed up one leg.

The sight made your stomach flip— the sheer desire of it all. Your mind flickered to Tashi, as it seemed to do more and more. Tashi got this same sight, felt the same lips on her skin, and heard the same groans and pants. You could’ve laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. At that moment, with Patrick on top of you, you were closer to Tashi than Art could even dream of.

A tap on the inside of your thigh was his wordless way of telling you to open up for him, to get out of your head and come back to earth. Your tummy fluttered as you spread your legs more and he slotted himself there with an arm slung across your stomach.

“Fuck,” he said lowly, peering up at you. “You get this wet from just kissing?”

Heat burned in your cheeks at his obvious amusement, but you could tell he loved how responsive you were. His tongue traced you from your hole to your clit, making you cry out and twist your fingers into his curls. Quick, teasing flicks against your clit made your thighs tremble and squeeze around his shoulders. You were so fucking sensitive that it made him want to tear you apart.

It was messy— a sloppy mix of his spit and your arousal as he made out with your pussy. His nose brushed against your clit as he nuzzled deeper into you, moaning as his fervor was rewarded with more of your juices spilling onto his tongue.

There was no method or precision to it, even though you were quite sure he could’ve had you coming undone beneath his fingers in no time at all. Patrick relished in every tiny reaction— in feeling your thighs around his head and your fingers in his hair. Relished in the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of your slick smeared across his face.

Your back was arching off the bed, nails digging just shy of painfully into his scalp.

He opened you up with one finger, then a second. Your cunt accepted the intrusion with ease, like you were made for it. For him. He crooked his fingers just so and you cried out pathetically. He pressed there, constant and firmly and your fingers tugged harder on his hair, moans increasing in pitch as your breaths came in pants.

“I’m— I— fuck—“ words failed you as his lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked, making spots dance across your vision. In the absence of words, all you could manage were fucked out sobs and pitiful little whines.

Slick walls fluttered around his fingers, and your clit pulsed against his tongue. You were so easy to get worked up— a toy for him to wind up and set into motion. You came with a moan that would’ve made a weaker man cum inside of his boxers, your cunt spasming around the intrusion of his fingers.

When he sat back and cleaned his fingers in his mouth, you were watching through half-lidded, hazy eyes. Tiny pieces of hair were plastered to your face and forehead, and you gave a breathless giggle as you looked up at him.

“Holy shit,” you said with a grin as he shucked off his boxers and kicked them off somewhere across the room.

“Feel good?” He asked, and pressed a kiss to your hip bone. You nodded wordlessly, feeling dizzy with need. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, peering up at him with wide eyes. The tip of his nose was shiny with your arousal, which made warmth spread across your cheeks. With a sheepish laugh, you reached up and wiped it away with your thumb. There wasn’t much you could do about the mess on his mouth and chin. “You’re all messy.”

He kissed you slow— leaving his tongue against yours, making you taste yourself mixed with his spit. It was less of a kiss than a series of slow laves of his tongue against yours. It felt dirty, and a little gross, but you couldn’t help but relish in it. You’d never kissed Art like that, would’ve never even dreamed of it. Patrick was an entirely different animal.

You stayed like that for a while— just completely lost in the feel of him warm on top of you, grinding his cock against your cunt as he planted messy kisses to your lips.

“Condom?” He mumbled the words against your lips when he finally grew impatient.

“Mhmm. Bedside table.”

He fumbled inside the drawer, grabbing glasses cleaning wipes two seperate times before he finally found a foil packet in the bottom of the drawer.

He held it between two fingers, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You sure this’ll fit me? I’m bigger than Art.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not by that much.”

“Where it counts, though.” His smirk was smarmy as he tore open the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom down his length. He spat in his hand and stroked himself as he peered down at you, like he hadn’t quite decided how he wanted you yet.

“Turn over,” he finally said with a pat to the meat of your thigh. You did as he said, almost hesitant as you turned over and settled onto your forearms, arching your back slightly. “Does Art ever fuck you like this?”

He held the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you with the tiniest amount of pressure. You took in a shaky breath and shifted, eager for more that he wasn’t going to give you yet. “Do you have to bring him up right now?”

No. He knew he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help himself at the same time. The thought of his Art in this same bed with you made it all so much hotter for him. He wanted to know how Art had fucked you, he wanted every detail burned in his brain. He wanted to be better, or maybe just be there with the two of you.

It had gotten close. Once. Art was definitely fingering you under a blanket while the three of you watched a movie on his laptop across the room. Patrick’s thigh was touching yours— he could feel the way your muscles tensed and shook as Art played with you. He was close enough to hear the hitch of your breath.

And if that hadn’t been enough to give it away, Art’s stupid fucking smirk and the obvious way his arm was moving would have.

He didn’t do anything then, but maybe he should’ve.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He was slow as he sank into you, inch by inch. It could’ve been the position, or maybe his cocky bravado was completely founded, but he did feel bigger than you were used to. A soft moan was punched from your lips when he was finally buried to the hilt— your breath came in soft pants as you adjusted to the feeling of him.

With your face pressed into your pillows, each breath you took flooded your senses with the smell of Art’s cologne. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as your thoughts were overwhelmed with him.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he groaned. His fingers dimpled your skin where he held onto you. He moved one hand to rub the base of your spine in a way that could probably have been tender, on another day. You moaned pathetically into the pillows. “What? You need something?”

One shallow, teasing thrust made your toes curl. “More,” was all you could manage.

“Can you take it?” Patrick cooed, smugness was practically dripping from his tongue. “Because I can go slow if you need—“

“You’re such an asshole. Just fuck m—”

A rough snap of Patrick’s hips cut you off suddenly. You cried out, grasping onto the bedspread feebly as he began to fuck you in earnest.

Each thrust made the cheap, university-provided bed frame slam against the wall. The decorations you had hung up rattled, threatening to tumble right onto the floor and shatter, but neither of you even noticed. The moans slipping past your lips were pornographic.

But the sounds escaping you were nothing compared to the noises Patrick was making. Art had made an off-handed comment, once, about how much of a slut Patrick could be. You hadn’t really seen why until you got to hear the desperate, debauched noises he could make.

You slipped a hand between your thighs to rub at your clit and the feeling stole the air from your lungs. Your eyes rolled back, ass jiggling in time with each thrust.

Through it all, the memory of Art in this bed clung to you. Art, burying himself in the soft, wet heat between your thighs, flushed down to his chest and panting softly. His hungry kisses, melting sweet on your tongue like cotton candy. The whines that slipped past his lips, better than the prettiest music you could imagine.

With each brutal thrust of Patrick’s cock into you, he punched out soft ah, ah, ahs from your lips. In your head, you just heard Art, Art, Art. Maybe that’s what you meant to say.

You were probably in love with him. You were fucking his best friend. And it wasn’t even that simple. Patrick and Art and Tashi and somewhere between it all, you lingered. It was a giant clusterfuck of feelings and lust that you’d somehow tangled yourself inside of. Wanting someone so much, you want whoever has them just as badly.

Maybe everything would’ve been a lot cleaner if you’d just locked the four of you into a room and stayed until every bit of tension had been fucked out. The idea of it all made you moan softly into the pillows.

Patrick pulled you up suddenly, back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck into you. One hand grabbed at your jaw, turning you so he could press his lips to yours again, and the other squeezed at your tits. His mouth did a perfect job of muffling your moans— Patrick relished in feeling your pretty whines vibrate against his lips.

“You feel so fucking perfect.” His words made heat flutter through you. “Need t’ feel you cum again. You have it in you, yeah? I can feel it.”

You nodded, eager to please. Pleasure was lapping at every nerve, lightning-hot. Your fingers rubbed faster at your clit as he pounded up into you. The whines escaping you were pathetic as your body crawled closer and closer to the edge.

“Close,” you gasped out. Patrick licked into your open mouth, kissing you sloppily as you set a punishing pace on your poor, oversensitive clit. “So close— f-fuck—“

Your orgasm hit you suddenly. You clawed at his arm with your free hand, desperately seeking purchase as euphoria pulsed through your veins.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his breath hot against your jaw. “Fuck— squeezin’ me so tight I can barely move— god—“

Your eyes were half-lidded as he worked you through it, rhythm only just beginning to falter as his finish approached. He pushed you back onto your stomach, manhandling your hips so your back was arched just like he wanted.

You were reduced to whimpers and whines by the time he finally came— buried as deep as he could get, grip bruising on your hips. A few shallow thrusts were all he could manage before he pulled out, collapsing on beside you.

You were catching your breath while he disposed of the condom in the cute trash can beside your bed, filled with gummy snack wrappers and broken pencils and old class notes. It felt like sacrilege. He laid back down, and you pulled a throw blanket over the two of you.

With his head against the pillows, you wondered if he could also sense the phantom of Art’s presence there in the bed. Somewhere between you, forcing distance.

“So, when do you leave for your next tournament?” You asked. Unconsciously, you reached out to play with his hair, the same way you did to Art in times like these. “Soon, I bet. You usually don’t stay long.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” He asked, a tiny smile playing at his lips. His chest was still heaving with exertion.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to get rid of you, Patrick.” He melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

In the morning, you’d wake up squished against Patrick’s side with the taste of sugary alcohol on your tongue. When you picked up your phone to see three missed calls from Art, it was easier to pretend that you hadn’t seen them at all.

thanks for reading :) if you enjoyed, please lmk by sending an ask, or whatever you wanna do <3

#challengers 2024 #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #challengers fanfic #my writing

2K notes · View notes

tame-the-lion-writes · 2 months ago

Text

cat shifter reader x 141 pt.4

Though you wanted to deny it, the fiends that took over your home and invaded your space had, in fact, nursed you to health. Once Price got you to eat, Gaz insisted on cooking soup for you, and bringing it to the bedroom everyday. He left it on a table near the door, too, giving you space. Sometimes Soap switched it up by sharing his own food.

Now all that was left was some remaining congestion; that, and a lingering itch at the back of your throat that had you coughing, but a dry cough, and not the icky, thick kind. Still, you wished you could stay wrapped up in bed. It was much more comfortable here compared to the attic; the sheets were starting to smell more like you, and it was getting easier to fall asleep without the aid of fatigue. Not to mention the insulated walls that kept heat in, and the lack of holes in the wood that allowed cold wind to blow through. But it seemed that life—or rather, Ghost—had other plans.

You had been mid-yawn, stretching even your tail out, when he marched into the room and picked you up like an unruly child.

“Rats are back,” was all he said, carrying you out while you took a frantic look around, seeing no one else home to argue with him for your comfort. “Get to work.”

You scowled, or at least attempted to with a cat’s face, meowing loudly in protest as you were dropped unceremoniously on the still-wet ground. And to think you had snuck into the bathroom just last night to get all nice and clean. Now your fur was stained with dirt again.

“You’re a barn cat, aren’t you? Do barn cats things.”

You hopped onto a nearby crate, and flicked the mud off your paws, onto his jacket..

Hiss.

Ghost stared dead at you, unaffected. "Look, I don't care how soft Soap or Gaz are on ya. Either you earn your keep, or I leave you out here. Permanently. Understood?"

Yeah. Understood. Mean ass military man.

With your nose stuck up, you hop onto the roof from there, and out of sight. Fine. You could do what he wanted; mice were easy prey, and you'd caught dozens of them in your time here. But now that you didn't have to be relegated to eating them, well...

Ghost would have a little surprise when coming back to his room tonight.

Content with the pile of dead mice collected at the foot of Ghost's bed, when Soap, Gaz, and Price arrive home after a trip into town, you flop down, belly up and purring.

“What’s this, lass?” Soap grins, bending at the knee to pat your stomach. “Playin’ pet cat now, are ya?”

You look up at Soap for a moment, then latch onto his hand with all four paws—and all four sets of claws.

“OW— ow— I THOUGHT YE WERE BEING FRIENDLY!”

“She probably was ‘til you called her 'pet--'”

And that's when they hear Ghost screaming curses in the background.

1K notes · View notes

theblacklewinsky · 2 months ago

Text

Note: back with our favorite boo, Terry. It's my birthday, but I guess I can gift y'all with something lol! ❤️

Helpful Neighbors. | Aaron Pierre.

Toxic!Neighbor Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on. toy play, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint.

Summary: You confront your noisy neighbor about his loud late night company, he allows you to retaliate.

you fucking nasty,

first you cum and then you wipe it on my ass cheeks.

There wasn't much that you knew about your neighbor Terry. You knew he was generally friendly, you bringing him a small housewarming gift of a bath and bodywork's candle when he'd first moved in months prior. You knew he was a vet based on the marines sticker on the bumper of his pick up. You knew he was active, you often seen him heading out for camping trips, often seeing him in the apartments shared gym area when you'd take time out of your busy schedule to get a short work out in. You knew he was gorgeous, anybody could attest to that.

And he was loud. Very fucking loud.

And if you didn't know anything else, you knew that for sure.

The noise varied. Most nights he was particularly quiet, you wouldn't even have noticed anybody lived there if you hadn't seen him before. But some nights, he was a little loud. Metal music from an 80's band bled through the apartment walls, straight into your bedroom, you actually didn't mind it—being an exhausted charge nurse, the metal music did something for you, calming you in a strange way. Him seemingly fixing something, sometimes in the latest hours, drilling, hammering.

But it wasn't any of that. There wasn't any metal music. But he was sure drilling or hammering somebody. And she was extensively louder than anything you'd heard from Terry's apartment. You had to quickly grab your remote, muting your comfort show on your television to make sure she wasn't screaming blood murder.

It wasn't bloody murder, but she was screaming alright. You sighed, it was your first off day in two weeks of working straight in the trauma unit of the local hospital. It'd been a viscous stomach bug going around, and with the big panic from the prior pandemic, the hospital wasn't risking another one slipping up—so work was rough, and long.

But maybe you were bitter? It'd been way too long since you'd properly got your rocks off—not anything involving your beloved rose. So maybe you were just a bit bitter that at least somebody was getting theirs. Good for him! Just not on tonight. Not this night. You'd planned to crawl in bed, eat the most unhealthiest snacks in your cabinet and watch your comfort show, and maybe weep the prior two weeks out onto your pillow, you deserved a good cry after all, girl.

You sighed heavily, placing the pillow over your head letting out a groan. You'd definitely have to catch him in the morning and talk about this, cause this was outrageous.

Maybe sleep was out of the equation, but you'd definitely moved on to weeping.

The morning sprung and you jumped into action. Due to working 7AM to 7PM, you left out for work around the same time as a Terry did his morning runs. 6AM.

You woke up at 5:30 on a mission, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare and putting on your biggest t-shirt, sweatpants to match, oh you meant business.

You caught him as soon as he'd left his door, jogging the opposite way of your apartment toward the elevators before you called out to him. He turned confused at first until he noticed you, giving a lazy morning smile as he did. Black compression shirt, with the pair of black basketball shorts to match. He had no business being so damn fine. But you weren't deterred by that, last night was fucking atrocious.

"Goodmornin', beautiful," he smoothly recited like he did every morning. He was just nice like that. He said it every morning without fail, he always found something to compliment you on. New color of scrubs, how you decided to get your hair, even sweeter when he sees you out of your deliciously fitting scrubs.

"Good morning Terry," you smiled weakly, "I don't mean to disturb your routine, but can we talk for a minute?" You uneasily shifted your weight. You weren't good with confrontation, it just wasn't in your nature, but you didn't play about your sleep.

He nodded and you walked inside still holding the door open for him to signal him to follow you. He did, his smile faltering a bit once he came inside, you could tell he was confused a little thrown off.

You closed the door behind y'all, moving into your large kitchen area to pour yourself a mug of coffee. "Want some?" You politely asked him to which he politely rejected holding up his thermal water bottle.

You added your usual fixings to your coffee, taking a cautious sip, cradling your mug in your hand before you continued. "I don't mean to be confrontational when I say this," you walked around him heading into the living area, plopping on your newly purchased gray plush sectional, " but you were very ...loud last night." You chose your words, nicely.

He featured you a puzzling look, his finger gesturing to the comfortable chair adjacent to you, "of course." You quickly obliged before he took a seat, uneasily continuing. "Your lady...company, I meant." Sex talk wasn't your thing. Sex was sacred to talk about for you—and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable at all.

"Oh shit," he softly cursed, his expression filled with slight concern, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were bein' so loud, I hope we ain't keep you up."

"Oh, it's not a big deal," you quickly intercepted not wanting him to feel any type of way, "it's just my first day off in a couple of weeks so I just wanted to wind down with some quiet time and you guys were very...vocal," you chuckled to diffuse the awkwardness of the conversation, to which he added a light chuckle of his own, "at least somebodies getting their rocks off around here." You said jokingly before taking a sip of coffee. You hoped that didn't sound suggestive.

A short moment of silence followed your statement before you recognized Terry's eyes locked on something behind you for responding, "I see I ain't the only one gettin' mine," you furrowed your brows slowly turning your attention to where he was previously locked on. Your rose, sitting cleaned and comfortably on your end table.

You really had to learn to start putting shit back.

Or maybe not.

Somehow you found yourself on your back, pinned to the couch, Terry folding you up in missionary, knees to your chest, rose to your clit as he gave you long, deep, torturing strokes. You couldn't even remember the quick and somehow satisfying foreplay you'd taken to get here—and you didn't even care anymore. You could feel the fat tip of his dick kissing your cervix, and as if you weren't loud enough, you got louder. How ironic? You could barely hear yourself think, or were you thinking at all?

"Mhm," he hummed, his face composed, nothing but his teeth lightly sunken into his bottom teeth as he drilled you in, finger tips of his thumb and pointer finger giving your right nipple light squeezes and tugs, he kept his eyes on you, even when they rolled back, quickly turning up the vibrator, "look at you, mama. Why you bein' so vocal? Why you bein' so fuckin' loud, baby?" He taunted.

"My god, Terry," you whined, breathless, he kept up, dick hitting that spot that made your toes curl. How was he so good at this shit? You understood her completely. It wasn't atrocious at all. Very understandable. Very justified.

"Yeah, baby?" He quirked his brow up, his own soft groans almost mocking yours. "You want her to hear you? She still next door, wake her ass up mama. She kept you up all night didn't she?" He asked tearing his fingers away from your nipples to slap firmly against your cheek prompting an answer from you.

"Yessss," you slurred out, throat raw from moaning and groaning. You'd say yes to anything he asked you in this moment. You'd adopt six German kids and live on a farm with him if he requested you to do so in this moment, the world was his oyster. He was digging you out so good, so deliciously good. He was getting more than your rocks off and you knew that when the pressure in the pit of your tummy came weighing down on your bladder. "Ooouuu fuck! Fuck I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he chuckled, evil all evident in his tone, all in his smile as he glanced down to the mess unfolding between y'all, "wet this dick up baby, I feel that shit." He groaned, eyes zoning in on the creamy ring you were leaving around him. "Wet me up, and you better wake her ass up when you do."

"Cumming!" You abruptly announced nearly cutting him off from his lewd rant, the sounds of your own arousal clashing with his dick sent you tumbling over the edge, clear juices spurting out of you with so much force it ejected him out as well. It only prompted a more lazy laugh out of him, shaking the suction of the rose on your clit even faster. Trembling underneath him, your breath hitched in your throat as he sent you into complete overdrive, your voice was hoarse once a moan came tumbling out of you loud and broken. Why did you cum so hard from knowing that she was next door, possibly hearing you get your nut off with him?

"I like that shit, mama," he mumbled to you, turning the rose off slapping his free hand down on your clit, watching your body jerk in response. He said nothing dipping his body down momentarily to give your soft, sensitive nub three sloppy, mind numbing sucks. He was so loud and lewd with it, smacks loud, tongue slurping loudly. You were too turned on, too sensitive, but too fucked out to even object given how sensitive you were. He stood up on his knee once again, other floor planted flat on the ground. "Sticking up so pretty f'me and shit," he hummed, "put that ass in the air, I'm finna give her some more."

You whined, you were too tired to move. If this was sex? What the fuck were you having before? And he seemed to insatiable, how was he asking you for more when you already so tattered from your last orgasm?

"Can't," you weakly managed to get out.

He took the initiative to help you, his hands firmly grasping your hips and flipping you over roughly, bringing your hips up into the air, spreading out so nicely for him. He moaned in response, looking at how both your holes seemed to open for him. He slapped his massive hand against your ass cheek, the loud sound seemingly filling your quiet apartment, a high wince following behind it, his dick twitching at the recoil. "You gon be a good girl for daddy and hold this shit on your clit while I take care of you back here?" He asked you the dominating reference only furthering the throbbing in your pussy, one hand softly kneading the sting out from his slap. You could hear the quiet buzzing from behind you, head nodding eagerly as your hand reached from under you, making grabby motions for the toy.

Once it was in your possession, you placed it where he asked you, body lightly trembling since your clit hadn't had a moment long enough without stimulation. Both his large hands had been planted on your ass cheeks, spreading you apart for him. He groaned in response, spitting down onto your second hole winking for him so sweetly, you moaned in response to his lewd action. "Fuck yeah," he muttered sending another lighter slap to your ass. No further words were spoken as he grabbed his girthy member in his hands, fat tip rubbing softly against your slit before he stretched you open once again around him.

A loud whine erupted from you as soon as you felt him sliding into you, stretching you, the light sting providing the perfect pain to compliment the pleasure of him literally stuffing you. It was mind numbing for him, feeling you stretch and clench around him so perfectly, gummy, wet walls feeling so warm and snug around him. "Pussy so fuckin' good," he muttered not sure to who, you or him.

His strokes had already started off staggering; hard and deep. Pelvis slamming into your ass with loud, rippling sounds through your apartment, the force literally nudging your couch across the floor. You couldn't care about the scratches you knew were now engrained in your hardwood flooring, everything was so good. Too good.

"Fuckkkk!" You slurred out, eyes fluttering closed, face pressed against the plush cushions beneath you. Brainless wasn't the word for you. You were hyper focused on the pleasure you were receiving, the vibrations from the toy, Terry's back breaking strokes, and the sounds of your arousal around him didn't help the diagnosis. Your free hand held onto the top of the couch for a sense of stability. "Why—why you fuckin' me like this?!" You stammered out through a moan, voice hoarse and broken.

"What you mean, mama?" He asked through a groan, sending another rough slap to your ass. "You such a good girl, you deserve this dick. Workin' all hard and shit, always lookin' so fuckin' good." He grunted, working himself inside of you. Thumb tracing your asshole teasingly. "You deserve some good dick, baby."

The praise only heightened your moans, encouraging you to slam your ass back on him until you felt your own orgasm once again lurking around the corner.

"Show the fuck out, then, baby," he said breathlessly, stilling his own movements as he watched as you fucked yourself on his dick, ass slamming back onto his pelvis with dizzying recoil.

"Shiiiit! I'm finna cummmm!" You moaned out, your movements only increasing in pace, using him for your own pleasure now. And he ate that shit up.

"That's right, get that nut mama. Get yo' shit, fuck me," he affirmed through a series of groans accentuating your own, "fuck, I feel all that shit. Nasty ass bitch, get that nut." His dirty words filling your ears as you released around him, halting your movements. Squirting for the second time, the orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks literally. This one cramped your muscles as it temporarily paralyzed you, huge steaks of pleasure coursing through you. Terry didn't give you a moment to recover, his own climax brewing in the background. He resumed his strokes as if he never stopped, powerful, fast and hard. The rose clobbered to the floor with a hard thud, still buzzing away as your body flattened into the couch, Terry using his upper body strength to drop dick in you.

"You runnin?" He asked breathlessly through a series of overstimulating strokes to your pussy. "Why you runnin? Daddy, let you get yours right? Let daddy get his." He hummed to you.

You couldn't tell him you were overstimulated. Could you talk at all? Were you even breathing? What the fuck even was this?

"Dick got you goin' stupid, look at you," he groaned, dick hitting that spot again, and again. You came again, with announcement. You hadn't even known you were that close again. "Fuck, you keep cummin' on my dick."

Your voice came back to you in little squeals, nodding in agreement to his last statement.

"Pussy so good—I'm finna nut baby," his voice rushed and panicked as he kept up his strokes, "fuck I'm finna nut—shit!" He hurriedly pulled out of you, groans and grunts spilling from him earnestly as warm, ropes of cum painted your ass.

That was so unreal.

You focused on steadying yourself as you heard Terrys whispered curses behind you. It wasn't long before you heard his lazy chuckle, soft lips kissing down your spine causing a small chill to sneak through you. "You good?"

"Yes? I dunno," you answered bleakly, voice rasped out. Terry laughed gently, hands rubbing some warmth into your thighs and midsection.

"You enjoyed yourself?" He asked softly, kissing up to your neck, and shoulder tenderly. You nodded eagerly to his question, earning another chuckle for him. He sounded so good. "I'm glad, where towels at pretty girl. Lemme clean you up."

"Bathroom closet," you jammed your finger in the direction of the closet. You were halfway into a slumber when Terry came back with a warm towel, cleaning you up gently.

You knew for a fact it was gonna be a lot of noise coming from the both of your apartments.

still don't have a tag list together but I hope y'all enjoyed another toxic Terry fic 🫡 my favorite Terry after all! Happy Friday! 💗

#aaron pierre #fine black men #fine as fuck #black writers #black!fem!reader #rebel ridge #terry richmond

914 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago

Text

Second Time's The Charm IX

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Your co-workers meet your wife

The new doctor is world renowned.

A titan in the industry of sports science and flawless in the realm of orthopaedic surgery.

Perhaps there was a bit of sexism in the way that all the nurses assumed you would be a man but each were pleasantly surprised when you walked through the door in your scrubs and were, in fact, a woman.

It was great in fact because male doctors always had massive egos attached and never treated nurses respectfully.

But female doctors always did.

Female doctors always appreciated the work they did.

You were one of those doctors.

If you weren't buried in paperwork or doing consultations and follow ups, you were down by the nurses station with a to-go coffee and a box of doughnuts from the café to share out.

"He took me to Naples," One of the nurses said," We took a tour around Pompeii and ate at this amazing pizza place."

You hummed, writing down something in one of your patient's charts. "Was it nice? I've been meaning to take my wife but she's so busy all the time. I don't want her time wasted if it isn't nice."

"So nice," The nurse insisted," A lot of walking around though so you're sweating a lot but apart from that, it's amazing."

"I'll put it on my list then."

"My boyfriend took me to a football match. He's a Barcelona fan so we went to see the women in a friendly last week."

"My wife was there too," You said absentmindedly," I heard it was a good match."

"Eight-nil to Barcelona," The nurse agreed," They were amazing."

You know that because Alexia came home very happy with her own performance. Two goals. Three assists.

You rewarded her handsomely.

"The women's team are very good," You replied, signing something off.

"Oh, yeah, you go to a lot of matches, right? Are you a fan?"

"My wife's a bigger Barcelona fan than me," You replied.

That was an understatement but nobody really needs to know about how passionate Alexia is about football.

"She always gets me tickets."

"That's so sweet," Another nurse said," It's nice that you care so much about her interests."

"Yeah, I love seeing Ale happy," You said," If that means I have to sit through ninety plus minutes of football then I'm glad to to do it."

The nurses learnt pretty quickly after that, just how much you adored your wife.

You brought her up with conversations that were only tangentially related to her, dropping little facts to do with her at seemingly random intervals.

Your staff now knew that you and your Ale had met at school, inseparable since that first meeting. They knew you got kicked out of your parent's house at eighteen after you married her. They knew that you were currently building a house and had taken her away on her dream holiday over the Christmas period.

You'd never shown a picture of her though and if there was one things nurses loved doing with no one around, it was gossip.

"She must look like a model or something," One of them said," Pretty people marry pretty people and Doctor Putellas is very pretty."

"I think she must be a real sweetheart," Another said," Someone really sweet and happy. I'd be happy if I was married and spoiled by Doctor Putellas. It must be a dream."

"What do you think she works as?"

" A doctor's salary like Doctor Putellas' is enough to support a family on. Her wife probably doesn't need to work."

"I heard they were thinking about adopting. Her wife might want to stay home with the baby."

"Doctor Putellas deserves a housewife to spoil. I bet her wife feels so loved all the time."

"I wish my boyfriend would treat me like how Doctor Putellas treats her wife."

A throat is cleared behind the assembled nurses and they turn around, instantly putting on their responsible faces.

Alexia Putellas stood before them, nervously threading her fingers together together as she stood in front of them.

"Erm...hello."

"Hello. Do you have an appointment? A follow up?"

Since her ACL tear, Alexia wasn't an abnormal presence at the hospital, constantly coming back for follow ups and check ins.

She'd never looked this nervous though, this strung out and anxious.

"Er...no. I'm...I'm here to see Y/n?"

The nurses all nodded.

That made sense. Alexia Putellas and Doctor Putellas.

Everyone had assumed the pair of you were related. You didn't look similar so you were probably cousins or something else more loosely related.

"We'll call her down for you."

Alexia nodded, face shifting from nervous to more stern and stoic, the face that the nurses were more used to seeing on her. She remained silent as they went back to talking, discussing weekend plans and holiday ideas with family.

The squeak of your shoes on the linoleum floor caused all conversations to grind to a half again and you turned the corner with the group of interns that you'd been talking to since one of your surgeries earlier, answering questions in such an in depth way that there was no question of why you were world class in your field.

"Doctor Putellas, your-"

"Amor!" Alexia cried out, stern and stoicism slipping from her visage as something skin to puppy love appeared to replace it," Brilliant news!"

Your own smile split your features as you took two short steps toward her until you were face to face.

Instantly, Alexia's hands went to your hips.

"What is it, Ale?"

"We've got a court date! For Maya! To bring her home!"

Somehow, you smile only widened and you threw your arms around Alexia to bring her ever closer.

"Are you serious? A court date? An actual court date?"

"The lawyers called!" Alexia continued, somehow rushing through her words but still articulating them perfectly," I was in a meeting but I was looking at my phone because it was flashing. I knew I shouldn't have picked up but it felt important so I did. And they told me! Next week! The judge will talk to us and officially approve the papers!"

You were totally professional with your nursing staff. You would banter with them and joke around but you were still so professional. You didn't overshare. You didn't belittle them. You didn't say anything too personal.

Which was why it was so strange to see you pull Alexia into a kiss right in front of them, smashing your lips together as Alexia practically vibrated in excitement.

"We're bringing our baby home," You said against her lips.

"We are, amor. We are."

Movement out of the corner of your eye brought you out of your daze though, dropping your arms until you could take one of Alexia's hands in your own as you turned to face the shocked faces of your group of interns and your nurses.

You felt a little bit awkward now as you cleared your throat.

"This is my wife," You said meekly," Ale."

Not the Barcelona captain. Not the Spain captain. Not Alexia Putellas.

Your wife.

Ale.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

904 notes · View notes

sofiascripts · 4 months ago

Text

love in recovery!: the unmanliest of pairs ✧˖° ༯

༉‧₊˚. part two to love in recovery ✧˚ · . bakugou cant stop thinking about you, he reflects on your moments together during the last few weeks and decides hes gotta see you! one problem though, schools are out of session for winter break and he has no idea where to find you. thankfully theres midoriya!

✎ wc: 7946

⤑ tw: not proofread, cursing, also i ended up taking the love at first site route with this so it might be ooc bakugou… </3 or maybe its very in character bc ur just that awesome he couldnt help himself really (it gets pretty ooc at the end, i was struggling but i NEEDED it to end that way so his usual demeanor had to disappear for a sec.)

bakugou was in what he believed was a state of despair. his mind, usually consumed with concerns about hero work and his so-called “publicity problems,” had recently become fixated on something entirely different: you.

it all began when bakugou was enlisted to help out during finals week at his old high school. the hero course students were gearing up for a practical exam against pro heroes. he remembered his own practical exams, which were conducted by his old teachers. this time, however, the school decided to mix things up by bringing in younger, fresher heroes. the idea was to inspire the students and give them a chance to work with their idols, pros they don't get to see on a daily basis. additionally, it provided a great opportunity to boost the young pros' hero rankings–

and it was a nice tax break for the agencies involved.

“itll be nice to roam those familiar halls, and visit our old teachers and our classrooms, where our forgotten youth still lingers.” tokoyami remarked, his voice heavy with a wistful undertone. they all exchange uneasy glances before kirishima placed a comforting hand on tokoyamis shoulder and cleared his throat.

“yeah something like that man– heard midoriya talking about a few new heroes joining in,” kirishima added shifting the focus.

“yeah! heard recovery girl finally retired. the new one’s apparently a cutie,” kaminari said leaning back into his seat with a wide grin.

“she is! izukus invited her a couple times when we met up with our old group,” uraraka said, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “she’s got this really warm, friendly vibe. every time ive worked with her, she’s been so caring and attentive. it’s clear she really loves what she does”

“yep! she’s healed me once! she really knows her stuff–her quirk is impressive, shes also got this reassuring presence that makes you feel better just being around her,” tsuyu added with a smile.

“who cares about that kind of crap?” bakugou grumbled, rolling his eyes. “didnt meet up to talk about some new nurse. what i want to know is what kind of target practice we’re dealing with for the next two weeks."

the group let out a unified sigh as the conversation shifted back to their work. they shared notes from the recent sports festivals and began detailing the students they’d be testing, outlining the quirks and abilities to expect. each pro hero reviewed the information attentively, mentally preparing for the demanding two weeks ahead.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

on the first day of finals, the six pros entered the building, the familiar halls of u.a. stirring memories of their own time as students. the air was thick with anticipation, a mixture of nerves and nostalgia that tugged at their senses. aizawa met them at the entrance, his usual tired expression softened slightly as he acknowledged his former students with a curt nod.

“you’re cutting it close,”aizawa murmured, gesturing for them to follow him. “the students are already in the testing site, so we need to head there immediately”

“apologies, mr. aizawa," tokoyami added, his tone somber. "i feared glimpsing the shadows of our past selves, the echoes we once cast.” his words left the group staring at him awkwardly.

“he missed the bus,” kirishima clarified with a shake of his head. aizawa nodded, already familiar with tokoyamis, interesting demeanor. there was no time for pleasantries or catching up with their old teachers, as they were already running a bit late. the group moved swiftly through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the school.

as they rounded a corner, they passed by the infirmary. the door was slightly ajar, and midoriya was leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed. he was engaged in conversation with someone inside, his voice carrying a tone of lighthearted teasing that caught their attention.

“yeah, well, let’s hope we don’t run into each other too much today. if the students stay injury-free, you might actually get a chance to relax!” midoriya’s smile was bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke.

bakugou barely registered midoriya’s words, his attention immediately caught by the soft, warm laugh that followed.

“god, i wish,” you replied with a playful sigh, amusement lacing your voice. “but if these kids are anything like aizawa described you, i’ll probably end up needing help myself.”

as the group walked by, bakugou’s eyes were already peering in, there you were standing in the infirmary, leaning against a counter with a white coat draped over your frame. the crisp, clean fabric paired nicely with the light color of your sundress which fell loosely around you. your arms were crossed casually, and the cheeky grin on your face sent an unexplainable jolt through him.

for a brief moment, bakugou’s mind scrambled for an explanation—had one of these brats used their quirk on him? his palms grew damp, a slight prickling sensation tingling beneath his skin, but he quickly dismissed it, convincing himself it was just the heat of the building, the stress of the upcoming practicals. but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it.

your eyes briefly met his as they walked past, and the world seemed to snap back into focus. he scowled, turning his gaze back to the path ahead, but the image of you lingered in his mind, seared into his thoughts like a stubborn ember refusing to die out.

“damn brats,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, as they continued on their way to the testing site. but his usual biting tone lacked its usual conviction, the warmth of your laugh still echoing in his ears, a sound that somehow felt both familiar and entirely new.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊─────�� ₊∘

at the end of the day, bakugou found himself walking down a very familiar hallway, telling himself it was only because this was the way he’d come in. why wouldn’t he leave the same way? his idiot friends were probably lost, trying to find their way out of the school from the testing site, so it only made sense to take this route.

right?

as he continued down towards the front entrance of the school, he just so happened to pass the infirmary.

he noticed two students exiting the room. one of them had a faint blush on his cheeks—probably a reaction to your quirk. bakugou’s mind flashed back to his first time being healed by recovery girl. even though she was an old lady, the awkwardness of the whole process still made him flush with embarrassment. he couldn't imagine how much worse it wouldve been if the healer had been someone like you someone younger.

just then, he remembered the scratch—no, more like a faint slash—on the right side of his forehead.

might as well get checked out while he was here, he reasoned. hed be cursing himself if that damn wound messed with his performance during his shift later. plus, if he was going to be dealing with more students tomorrow, he needed to be at his best.

with that excuse firmly in mind, bakugou took a deep breath and headed towards the infirmary, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened, though he figured it was just the tightness of the quirk nullifying bands around his wrists. it couldnt have anything to do with you.

he stepped in quietly, noticing how you were engrossed in paperwork, likely documenting all the students you’d treated that day. the room was filled with the soft rustling of papers, and the sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. bakugou stood at the doorframe for a moment, feeling like an idiot the longer he stood there. despite his intense glare, you seemed completely oblivious to his presence.

with an irritated huff, bakugou strode over to one of the infirmary beds and dropped himself onto it, the springs creaking under his weight. the sudden noise finally jolted you out of your focus. your eyes snapped up, widening in surprise, and bakugou smirked to himself when he saw your hand tighten around your pen, like you were ready to use it as a weapon against whoever dared to intrude.

“got hit,” he stated flatly, pointing at the cut on his forehead.

you raised an eyebrow, “oh? pro hero dynamite got bested by a couple of kids?” you teased, your tone light but your eyes filled with a playful glint.

from you, his usual scowl deepening. “second, they made me go easy on those brats. ‘course they landed a hit. not like they could keep up with me.” he said, mimicking the instructors’ voices with exaggerated annoyance. “‘told me i couldn’t just fail them all, it would ruin their self-esteem.”

he grumbled, still irked by the memory. he couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at him. he was totally against going easy on them; he knew firsthand that failure was crucial for getting stronger. it wasn’t about being a jerk—it was about giving them the chance to face their weaknesses and improve. he was pissed off that they were missing out on that important lesson. but he also knew that if he defied the rules, it would only make things worse for everyone. so, as much as it grated on him, he followed the damn rules.

as he watched you move closer to him, he noticed you were trying to hold back a smile, he also saw the glint of amusement in your eyes, which made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to. while you inspected his forehead, he felt an odd vulnerability.

he felt your gaze scan his entire body, a mix of frustration and discomfort bubbling beneath the surface as your closeness stirred unsettling feelings. a strong heat rose at the back of his neck, and he tried to distract himself by focusing on the wall behind you. when your eyes finally landed on his wrists, you picked up one of his hands and examined it with even greater intensity. your shocked expression was unmistakable, and it was clear you couldn’t hide it.

“they slapped these on too,” he grumbled, gesturing to the heavy weights strapped to his ankles. he couldn't stop himself from trying to show off a little bit more, “said it was to ‘even the playing field.’ whatever that means.”

you hummed thoughtfully, gently inspecting the quirk-suppressing bands. “they really didn’t want you going all out, huh?” you murmured, your tone both curious and sympathetic.

he huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “if i hadn’t been wearing all this crap, they wouldn’t have landed a damn finger on me.”

he pointed to the small cut on his forehead again, a slight tilt of his head trying to hint that he was expecting something. he remembered the conversation with his friends when they were going over the students quirks, someone had mentioned that you were like recovery girl or something, using a quirk that required a kiss to heal. he didn’t get why you had to be so soft about it, but he also didn’t want to look like a complete idiot and ask for it directly.

“what, you think i’m here for a band-aid? just get it over with already.”

you stared at him with an odd look on your face. after a moment of silence, you muttered a quiet, “right,” before your lips brushed lightly against the cut on his wrist. the warmth of your touch was unexpectedly soothing, sending a strange flutter through his chest that he quickly shoved aside.

“all set!” you said softly, moving over to your desk to busy yourself with paperwork. he glanced at the mirror, checking the spot where the cut had been. satisfied, he started to leave but paused when he heard you chuckle softly.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, irritation mingling with curiosity.

“oh, nothing,” you replied, “just picturing you going easy on a bunch of kids. it’s hard to imagine.”

he grunted in response, feeling a rare twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. it was an unfamiliar sensation, and he didn’t know how to process it, which seemed to be a recurring theme in this room.

“don’t get used to it,” he warned, “next time, those brats won’t know what hit ‘em.”

you rolled your eyes, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched him head toward the door. “try not to get hit again, dynamite,” you called after him, half-teasing, half-serious.

he glanced back at you, smirking. “don’t hold your breath.”

bakugou made his way down the halls toward the front of the building, a strange shift occurring within him as he thought about the odd sensations he’d experienced in your room. he’d always prided himself on being the toughest, most unbeatable guy around—someone who didn’t need anyone’s sympathy or affection. he certainly didn’t care for any of that sappy, lovey-dovey stuff.

but after you gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and let out that soft laugh—just like the one he’d heard earlier, but this one had been for him—he felt an unfamiliar warmth. your playful teasing, the way your cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze, and the gentle touch as you healed his cut all lingered in his mind. as he walked out the doors of ua, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might actually care about that ‘kind of crap.’

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

after that, he stopped by every day, always after the students were gone. he didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about his frequent visits. he was only coming by because it was convenient and you were tolerable. plus, you just happened to be on his way out, so he figured he might as well check in to make sure you weren’t slacking off. with the kids getting roughed up more than usual because of him, it was his duty as a pro hero to ensure the school’s support staff could handle the extra strain.

they had reached the end of the week, marking the completion of the first half of finals. students would rest over the weekend to prepare, as next week the rest of the second-years and first-years would be taking their tests. after that, school would be out for winter break and the young pro-heros would get to go back to working full time.

today, he decided to check in and ensure the infirmary was fully stocked. it wouldn’t do for you to run out of supplies in the middle of finals. he couldn’t focus on his part if he knew the kids wouldn’t get the proper care they needed afterward. so he had to make sure you had everything you needed for the upcoming week.

he marched in with his usual scowl, pretending to inspect the shelves while you stared at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “do you need anything dynamite?”

“making sure youre all stocked up.” he grumbled, refusing to meet your gaze. “don’t need any of these brats whining because you’re out of bandages.”

“oh? you know, i’m perfectly capable of keeping things in order,” you teased, leaning back against the counter with that same cheeky grin that had been haunting his thoughts.

as if on cue, he’d suddenly remember a tiny scratch on his cheek today. they were always minor injuries—barely worth a second glance—but he made a point of showing them to you, as if they needed your immediate attention, always saying something like:

“got a cut on my finger. don’t need a fuss, just make it quick.”

“got a little nick on my palm, just need it wrapped up or whatever.”

“got a scratch here. honestly nothing, but i guess you should take a look.”

you always had something smart to say, today you went with, “oh, look at that,”

after his second visit, your tone began to shift from actual concern to a mix of amusement and feigned concern. “you’ve got a little scrape. better let me take care of that.”

he’d huff, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “just get it over with.”

during his second, third, and fourth visits, you tended to his injury with a regular old first aid kit. you explained that it was better to let such a minor cut heal on its own, emphasizing how small the injury was—something that only seemed to irritate bakugou. you wanted to ensure that his body didn’t become dependent on a quirk for healing, even for minor wounds.

bakugou didn’t argue or ask for any extra attention. he was determined to stay above such petty requests. however, he found that he didn’t mind the touch of your hands, which were gentle and precise. each time your fingers brushed against his skin, he felt a small, unwelcome jolt of warmth, though he never let it show.

but today was different.

today felt like the first day all over again.

he hoped you couldn’t see or feel the heat radiating from him as you leaned in and teased, “so, bakugou, are you here for the healing, or do you just enjoy my company?” you raised an eyebrow playfully. “because these tiny bruises hardly seem worth the trip.”

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he instantly felt the soothing effects of your quirk.

“told you, it’s about staying in top shape. can’t have anything slowing me down, not even a damn scratch,” he snapped, his voice tinged with a forced irritation. “gotta be at my best if i’m gonna be number one.”

as you leaned back, your gaze lingered on him with an unreadable expression. the soft, ambient light of the infirmary cast a gentle glow around you, accentuating the warmth of your smile. despite the cool air, he felt an intense heat creep to his neck, betraying his attempt to stay composed.

bakugou turned his face slightly, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding. mumbling a quick thanks, he tried to regain his composure, his movements slightly stiff as he prepared to leave.

he walks out of your office thinking about how he wished he would have let his friends talk about the new nurse at ua.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou nearly missed his visit today. it was the last day of finals, and his friends were eager to celebrate the end of the grueling two weeks of work. they wanted to head to a café around the corner—a favorite spot from their school days. bakugou had initially planned to meet them there, but they insisted on walking together. this was why he now found himself angrily trudging through the school halls, his frown evident as he moved.

when they stepped out of the school, bakugou abruptly stopped in his tracks. he quickly patted himself down, feigning realization that he had forgotten his phone. he put on a show, acting as if he was in a rush to retrieve it.

after a brief and hurried detour, he found his way back to the infirmary, dashing through the corridors with the same urgency as a student late to class. he slowed down every time he passed an open door, then sped up again, repeating this process until he finally arrived back at the infirmary.

his frustration was already high from the charade, but it reached new heights when he saw you and midoriya together, seemingly engrossed in each other. you were sitting close, helping midoriya upload the practical grades onto a computer. the sight of you two so close, with midoriya’s easy smile and your focused attention, only intensified bakugou's irritation.

he slumped onto one of the infirmary beds, his posture stiff and impatient. he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling, waiting for you and midoriya to finish what he perceived as an overly affectionate interaction. he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that flared up every time he glanced at the two of you, his mood darkening with each passing moment.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you visit recovery girl this much back in our school days, kachann,” bakugou quickly turned to his childhood friend, his eyes narrowed and his palms began to warm up. but just before he could bark out a reply, you had cut in, “what?”

bakugou’s patience snapped as midoriya’s smirk widened. midoriyas voice dropped to a teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just noticing how often you’re in here these days, bakugou. you know, back in the day, you couldn’t stand being patched up, always rushing out before recovery girl could even finish. funny how things change.”

the words hit bakugou like a punch to the gut. he felt his anger flare, his fists clenching at his sides. he shot to his feet, his voice coming out in a low, threatening growl. “scram, nerd. didn’t want old lady lips on me back then, and i sure as hell don’t want you flappin’ yours now.”

midoriya chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender as he took a step back. he thanked you once more before giving bakugou a teasing smile and walking out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

bakugou’s irritation simmered as he watched midoriya leave. the heat in his cheeks was a mix of embarrassment and anger. he slumped back onto the infirmary bed, trying to shake off the tension that midoriya’s comments had stirred up inside him.

you turned your full attention to him, a small laugh escaping your lips. “you’re really going to blow a gasket one of these days, bakugou,” you teased, walking over with a calm, collected grace. the way you moved, so assured and at ease, only seemed to fuel his inner turmoil.

“shut up and just get on with it,” he grumbled, but it was clear there was no bite to his words. he was trying to mask the red creeping up his neck. he was determined not to let you see how much midoriya’s comments had affected him.

and its like the universe was against him because you couldn’t resist one last tease before getting down to business. “you’ve really gotta tell me, are you here for the treatment, or is it my company you’re after?” the playful glint in your eye made his facade crumble a little bit.

“just do your damn job,” he muttered, though he couldn’t entirely hide the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sat back down. your teasing, while annoying, had a way of making him feel strangely at ease.

he decided the universe was on his side again when you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to the small bruise on his shoulder. bakugou watched you intently, his irritation slowly melting away under the soothing warmth of your quirk. despite his gruff exterior, he always found that during these moments with you, whether you used your quirk or not, the constant pressure he carried with him all day would finally start to ease up.

as you gently pulled back, your eyes locked with his. today was the last day he’d have the chance to drop by like this. over the past two weeks, these visits had become a regular part of his routine. lately, he’d started coming in the mornings and in between his scheduled practicals, under the guise of “checking up on the students he roughed up.”

this would be the final time he could casually walk in and share these small, meaningful moments with you. the thought of missing these interactions left him more unsettled than he wanted to admit. before you could say anything, he stood up abruptly, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. without another word, he turned and made his way to the door, his footsteps heavy with unspoken feelings.

“bakugou,” you called out, making him stop pause. he turned to face you, the hint of curiosity in his eyes.

you offered him a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood. “be careful out there. won’t be around to patch all those little scrapes and bruises.”

he raised an eyebrow, his scowl softening slightly as he took in your words. “so?”

you shrugged, a teasing grin on your lips. “sooo don’t want those little injuries to add up and start slowing you down, especially with your fight for the number one spot and all.”

he huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no promises,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked out of your little office for the last time.

the door clicked shut behind him, and as he moved down the hallways, now deserted with all the students gone, he realized that the mess of emotions inside him wasn’t from any damn quirk. on top of that, he couldn’t shake the relentless feeling that he’d regret leaving you behind without finally tell you how he really felt, even if it still confused the hell out of him.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

he was right.

bakugou walked out of his agency with his usual scowl, but his mind was elsewhere. instead of focusing on his next mission, he replayed every interaction between the two of you—how you treated the students and tended to his cuts and bruises. he thought about your caring nature, your teasing attitude, and how your presence seemed to calm him despite his usual irritation. admitting that he missed you or cared more than he let on was still out of the question; he wasn’t ready for that. which is why he found himself in a state of despair.

but it wouldn’t hurt to see you again, he reasoned. after all, he had a sizable cut on his hand from a fierce battle earlier that day—a paper cut from adding more paper to the printer. he blasted his way back to ua high school, his heart pounding for some odd reason.

he rushed up the front steps, frustration barely contained as he shook the door handles, convinced they were just stiff from the cold. as he stepped back, preparing to blast the doors open, he noticed a small sign that read, "winter break has begun—ua is closed." his face fell, disappointment clear in his features.

he completely forgot.

with a muttered string of curses, he turned around, heading back to his agency, his mood darkened by a sense of missed opportunity and lingering irritation.

that same night he nearly looked you up on social media, but decided he was above that–although he had no problems getting purposely ‘injured’ just to see you again. he decided that he needed to talk to you in person. he was not gonna message you on social media like some extra.

though it was painful to admit, bakugou decided midoriya was his best bet for advice, you two were colleagues after all. the two had gone through a rough patch during middle school and their first year of high school, but they’d grown closer after the war. their relationship was like that of brothers, marked by teasing and occasional verbal jabs. and just as midoriya had influenced bakugou, bakugou had also rubbed off on midoriya.

“holy shit, just admit it! admit you like her,” midoriya whisper-yelled, his voice trembling with exasperation as he buried his head in his hands. he’d spent the past hour trying to break through bakugou’s walls, desperately attempting to get his childhood best friend to confess his obvious feelings for you.

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” bakugou replied with a dismissive shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. he crossed his arms over his chest, feigning indifference, but his heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest. the muscles in his jaw tensed as he tried to maintain his composure, but even he could feel the cracks forming in his facade.

midoriya looked up, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “you’ve got to be kidding me, katsuki. you dragged me out here to talk about her. it’s written all over your damn face.”

bakugou’s eyes flickered with irritation as he let out a low growl, his voice rising slightly in response to midoriya’s persistence. “seriously, what’s your deal with this lovey-dovey crap?” he snapped, leaning forward so forcefully that the chair creaked under the pressure.

“i came here to hang out, not to spill my guts about feelings, and the only thing written on my face is— ”he paused for dramatic effect, pointing to his left cheek,“—number,” he pointed to his right cheek, as if marking the spot. “—one!” his voice rose in defiant emphasis, though the strained expression on his face revealed just how much he was trying to keep his composure.

midoriya’s gaze sharpened, a mix of irritation and amusement dancing in his eyes. but before he could respond, bakugou cut him off sharply.

“i also didn’t drag you anywhere!” bakugou snapped, his voice cracking slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “you came here on your own.”

“so—” midoriya began, but bakugou was already back on the defensive.

“but if you’re so damn desperate to talk about her, then go ahead. i won’t stop you” bakugou interrupted, his voice laced with challenge as he glared at midoriya.

midoriya couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible, you know that? you’re just making it more obvious that you care.”

bakugou’s expression suddenly shifted. He stared at his friend, frustration and resignation mixing in his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he’d finally decided to let his guard down. “damn it, fine,” he muttered, the words coming out in a mix of defeat and reluctant honesty. “i thought it was just her quirk at first—you know how it works, right? you had that old lady’s lips on you all the time. figured i was just feeling awkward from the situation.”

midoriya’s eyes widened in surprise. “wait, her quirk—”

“hold on, i’m not done,” bakugou snapped, cutting him off abruptly. “after that, she started taking care of me without using her quirk. like, really looking out for me, making sure i was okay. that’s when i figured out it wasn’t just her damn power messing with my head. it’s her. it’s the way she talks, the way she looks at me, the way she gives a damn about people. the more we talked over the past two weeks, the more i realized…i actually give a shit.”

midoriya’s mouth opened, but he was interrupted by both of their phones buzzing with an urgent alert. they both glanced at their screens, and midoriya’s expression shifted to one of concern.

“shit,” bakugou muttered, grabbing his jacket. “they need all pros in the area.”

midoriya nodded, his face set in determination. “we’ve gotta go. now.”

“yeah,” bakugou agreed, already heading for the door. “we’ll talk later.”

they both slammed some cash down onto the table before rushing out of the café, the urgency of the situation taking over. bakugou's thoughts about you and the emotional revelations would have to wait; their immediate priority was to respond to the villain attack and protect the city.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou limped through the bustling emergency room, his face twisted in pain and frustration. he tried to ignore the nagging sense of vulnerability that came with his injuries. that stupid villain had managed to pull a fast one on him, landing a nasty hit before bakugou practically blew him to bits.

midoriya, being his usual self, had quickly suggested that the best treatment for bakugou’s injuries was at the very hospital where you volunteered, an effort to have you guys see each other again. normally, bakugou would have avoided causing a scene in a hospital, preferring to get patched up at his agency instead. however, midoriya’s persistence and his offer to handle all the paperwork made it difficult for bakugou to refuse.

he sighed as he let kaminari, sero, and kirishima come along with him, clearly annoyed but determined not to let midoriya’s plan fall through. as he trudged along.

the chaotic hustle and bustle of the emergency room was in full swing, a symphony of beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and urgent conversations. nurses and doctors moved briskly, attending to patients with practiced efficiency. bakugou’s irritation only grew as he was directed to sit and wait for some doctor anderson.

“i’ll wait,” bakugou growled, clenching his jaw. “i want the best of the best. that means ms. y/l/n.”

the medical staff exchanged uncertain glances, trying to balance their duties with the stubborn hero’s demands. “she’s just a volunteer here, and she already has quite the list,” one of the doctors said, attempting to reason with him. “we really need to—”

bakugou’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “you questioning me?!” he snarled, his voice thundering through the corridor, shaking the air with its intensity. the staff, taken aback by his explosive temper, quickly scrambled to comply, knowing better than to argue with him.

with a flurry of activity, they stabilized bakugou’s injuries as best as they could under the circumstances. the urgency in their movements betrayed their anxiety over his demands, but they managed to prepare him for your arrival.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

you moved quickly through the halls of the hospital, your heart racing as you had just received word that pro hero dynamite had just been admitted, and had demanded you to be the one to help him. you had a aching feeling that it wasn't for another scape. you spotted a group of familiar faces clustered together just outside bakugou's room. kirishima, kaminari, and sero were chatting animatedly, their conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter and occasional glances toward the door which gave you a small sense of relief.

“seriously, this is just karma,” kaminari said with a thoughtful frown, peering up at the ceiling as if searching for divine answers. “he was coming to recovery girl for every little scrape, it was so obvious he was trying to get an excuse to see her.”

“yeah,” sero chimed in with a smirk, “ bet you he was milking those tiny injuries just to get a little attention from her.”

kirishima laughed, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “he probably thought if he kept getting those little nicks and bruises, he’d get a chance to talk to her more. pretty clever, but also so very unmanly.”

their laughter and commentary were a strange mix of sympathy and light-hearted teasing. you found yourself frozen in place, hiding just out of sight as you overheard their conversation. the realization hit you hard—bakugou’s frequent visits and seemingly pointless injuries had been his way of getting close to you.

swallowing hard, you took a deep breath before making your way toward bakugou's room. you quickly greeted the pro heroes offering polite nods before pushing through the door. your hands began to sweat, nerves getting the better of you as you creaked the door open.

inside, you let out a sigh of relief mixed with concern. his condition wasn't as dire as you’d feared, but it wasn’t exactly good either. instead of the usual tiny cuts and small bruises you were accustomed to, bakugou had a deep, painful-looking gash on his side. it looked serious, though you could tell he was trying to downplay it.

he turned his head slowly toward you, his eyes barely open but trying to focus. his usual fiery glare was subdued, replaced by an almost vulnerable expression. “hello, dynamite,” you greeted him gently, a playful hint in your voice despite the situation. “thought i told you to be careful.”

bakugou's lips twitched into a weak, smile. “told me not to get any small ones, think i listened pretty well,” he joked, though his voice was strained.

you gave him a small smile, but it quickly faded as you noticed his vitals starting to waver on the monitor beside him. the steady beep of the heart rate was becoming irregular, and your concern spiked.

without hesitation, you activated your quirk, letting your hand hover over the deep cut on his side. the air seemed to crackle with energy as you focused intently, channeling your power to heal the wound. bakugou watched you with growing shock, his eyes widening as the extent of your quirk became apparent.

as you worked, you kept your focus on the healing process, determined to stabilize him. his expression of surprise and awe. despite the situation, you felt a pang of satisfaction seeing the wound slowly mend under your touch.

the room was filled with the quiet hum of medical equipment and the occasional murmurs from the pro heroes outside. you could feel the weight of the room’s concern, but you pushed through, driven by the need to get bakugou patched up.

finally, after a few tense moments, the monitor’s beeping steadied and bakugou’s breathing became more even. you pulled your hand away, your energy slightly drained but relieved that the worst was over for now.

bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and despite the pain, there was something almost tender in his eyes. “thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you offered him an awkward smile. “just doing my job.”

the two of you sat in an awkward silence, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him while you stared at the sheets. you got up, slowly preparing to say goodbye.

“so... your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s, huh?” bakugou blinked slowly at you, his tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

you nodded, your expression growing more serious. “yeah, it’s not.”

bakugou’s expression hardened, his voice sharp. “why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“didn’t think i’d have to see you again,” you admitted, frustration creeping into your voice. “and you’re not exactly the saint you pretend to be, either,” you added, your face flushing as you turned towards the window.

bakugou’s eyes widened in surprise, his face turning slightly pink. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you kept coming to me with those tiny scratches. you never really needed my help; you just wanted an excuse to see me.”

“are you out of your damn mind?!” bakugou roared, his face flushing deeper with anger. “i was using my resources to stay in top shape, alright? nothing more, nothing less!”

“top shape—who the hell talks like that?!” now you were a dark shade of crimson, your face blazing as the argument escalated. “bakugou, just admit it already!”

“there’s nothing to admit! how about you admit you were just waiting for an excuse to kiss me, you perv?!” bakugou’s voice rose, his face now a deeper red, frustration clear in his eyes.

“what?! don’t try to twist this around on me, you little shit! you’re the one who kept stopping by for the most ridiculous reasons—half the time, i didn’t even see anything wrong!” you shot back, your anger matching his.

“and yet you still acted like you wanted to kiss me, you damn freak!” bakugou’s face was now a deep shade of red, his embarrassment and anger mixing in equal measure.

“what?! i’m not a freak! you’re the freak! you just barged into my office and pointed at your cheek. who assumes something like that? if anything, you’re the perv for thinking healers just go around kissing people!” you exclaimed, your frustration peaking.

“that shitty little short circuit said you were the new recovery girl??” bakugou snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“i am? doesn’t mean i have the same quirk,” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

“well, you should’ve just said that’s not how your quirk works from the start!” bakugou growled, his tone defensive, his face still flushed.

“and you wouldn’t have blown me to bits. you were so damn confident when you just pointed at that tiny little scratch! i was just trying to protect myself!” you said, your voice rising in frustration as you turned away from him.

“oh, you’re really pushing it—” bakugou began, his anger barely contained, but he was cut off by kirishima barging into the room.

“sorry, but you’re both being unmanly right now.”

“stay out of this!” you both yelled, turning to the pro. he simply sighed and walked out, shaking his head and muttering about how things were just getting more unmanly by the minute.

there was a long pause as both of you sat in the silence, the weight of the room’s emotions settling around you. the air felt thick, charged with the intensity of the argument and the vulnerability that had emerged. bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more introspective. his shoulders relaxed, and his voice took on a quieter, more tentative tone. “didn’t really need your help then,” he said, the words laced with an awkward honesty that caught you off guard.

“i know,” you replied taking a seat at the edge of his bed, your own embarrassment matching his. you took a deep breath, feeling the fight drain from you as the truth settled between you. the tension in the room shifted, morphing from anger to something more fragile and uncertain.

another moment of silence stretched between you, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“bakugou,” you started softly, searching for the right words. your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him. “i like you,” you confessed, the words slipping out with a mix of shyness and sincerity.

bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his trademark scowl. “had a feeling,” he grumbled, his tone a blend of annoyance and something softer beneath. “took you long enough to admit it.”

before he could react further, you reached out and gave him a playful yet firm slap on the arm. your face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “what was that for?” bakugou exclaimed, rubbing the spot where you’d hit him, his expression a mix of genuine confusion and mild irritation.

“don’t act all smug,” you shot back, your voice laced with indignation. you’d just confessed your feelings, and instead of offering a heartfelt response, the idiot in front of you had simply said he knew. it was like he didn’t even grasp the weight of what you’d said.

bakugou’s scowl faltered as he looked at you with an unusual hint of vulnerability. his gaze dropped to the floor, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. it was clear he was struggling; he wasn’t used to expressing his feelings or dealing with someone else’s, and it showed.

when he finally looked back up, his expression was serious, but you noticed a rare softness in his eyes. “alright,” he said, his voice low and gruff but edged with an awkward sincerity that seemed out of character for him. “i like you too. a lot. more than i probably should.”

as you both sat there, basking in the newfound honesty between you, the tension began to melt away. bakugou let out a deep breath, and you could see the muscles in his shoulders relax. a comfortable silence settled in, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. for now, there was no need to rush or worry about what came next. you simply savored the moment, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment.

after a few moments, bakugou shifted slightly, a small, thoughtful look crossing his face. he wasn’t sure if it was the pain meds or the weight of your confession, but he was starting to feel a bit bolder than he had been. breaking the comfortable silence, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “ya know,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of his usual gruffness, “i’m still in a lot of pain.” he paused, watching you, as if he was testing the waters for your reaction.

you looked at him, puzzled. “what are you getting at?”

“well, we don’t know for sure if your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s,” he said, leaning in slightly. “ worked pretty well last time.”

you tilted your head, catching on to his subtle hint. “oh, so you’re suggesting that my quirk might work better if i used it the way recovery girl does? you know, with a bit more—” you paused for dramatic effect, “—personal touch?”

a soft smile spread across his face, his gaze locking onto yours. “something like that.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “well, if that’s the case, i’d better go check on your friends then. they might need some help too, after all.”

before you could move, bakugou’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. his eyes softened slightly, a mix of playfulness and sincerity in his gaze. “hey, don’t be a smartass,” he said, pulling you closer. “just... stay here for a minute.”

your heart skipped a beat as you were drawn into his personal space. you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. his expression was earnest now, the playful facade giving way to something more genuine.

“bakugou?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” he replied, his tone softening as he leaned in slightly.

you could feel the tension between you, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. his gaze was fixed on your lips, his intention clear even if unspoken. the moment hung in the air, charged with the possibility of a kiss.

finally, with a playful smirk, you tilted your head and teased, “i suppose if you’re still in pain, i should take care of that.”

before you could react, bakugou closed the distance between you. his lips brushed against yours in a warm, gentle kiss. it was soft and sweet, carrying a surprising tenderness that left both of you breathless. the kiss was fleeting but filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. as he pulled away, his smirk was replaced by a genuine, tender look. his eyes searched yours, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted with his usual fiery demeanor.

you blinked, still processing the kiss. with a shy smile, you asked, “feel better?”

he quickly buried his face in the side of your neck, causing you to giggle. "yeah," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. you could feel him slowly start to smile against your skin, "better."

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tagslist: @kirikiss @ah-mya @terralupa @purplebirdds @semiji ᐢᗜᐢ

♡ a/n: haha ember refusing to die? yk whos embers died… also haha reach out????! also sorry for the ooc at the end. i just needed that no lie... :D also part of me wants to do a part 3?? but just a bunch of random drabbles of you both getting together and your relationship 🤗

꩜ fr a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT POSTS LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS AMAZING <3 LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! I PUMPPPPED THIS CHAPTER OUT AS MY WAY OF SAYING THANK YOU ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

#bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #dynamight #bakugo katsuki #kacchan

506 notes · View notes

sagesolsticewrites · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! I’d like to request a John “Bucky” Egan fic where he tries several times to flirt with the reader, but the reader is super oblivious about it and just thinks he’s being nice. It becomes something everyone on base talks about and gets invested in. Maybe other people set up a scheme to get them together or make the reader realize how he feels. Idk, just something funny and cute like that ig 😁

Thank you so much for requesting, Nonnie, I’ve been having so much fun with these Masters of the Air requests! I loved getting to write for our best boy Bucky 🥰 Shoutout to @blurredcolour’s Trust fic (an absolute masterpiece, check it out y’all!) for helping with the writers block on this one 😅 (Reminder that requests are open! Feel free to check out some of my favorite prompt lists in my pinned post 😊)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Oblivious

“There’s my favorite nurse!”

You rolled your eyes at the phrase that announced John “Bucky” Egan’s every visit to sickbay.

“Hello, Major,” you said, turning to greet him with a mock-exasperated smile.

Bucky clutched a hand to his heart as if wounded, a hurt expression on his face. “How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Bucky, sweetheart?”

“At least a few more times, Major,” you reply, unable to hide a smile at the usual volley of friendly banter.

Major John Egan had been unusually friendly to you since the first moment he’d sauntered in to introduce himself to the medical staff as Air Exec. Your colleagues had blushed afterward and playfully insisted that he had paid you more attention than the others, but you just laughed and shook your head, insisting that he was just being nice.

This visit was simply another instance of Bucky being friendly to you; well, that and Harry Crosby’s airsickness had gotten the better of him again and he was checking up on the navigator.

You stepped aside as Bucky approached Harry’s cot, ready to update him on the goings-on since the last mission had returned.

He threw you a kind smile before perching on the stool next to Harry.

“How’s my girl treatin’ you, Crosby?”

Harry happily told him how the base had gotten a new shipment of airsickness pills and you had slipped him a spare box for his own personal use, and Bucky’s smile grew wider and wider.

You were glad to see how happy he was at the news that his friend was feeling better, and you quietly excused yourself to tend to the other patients.

Bucky sighed as you walked away.

“She still hasn’t picked up on it, huh?”

“No, Croz, she hasn’t.” sighed Bucky, “She thinks I’m just bein’… nice or friendly or something. Which I am!” He added hurriedly, “But I just…I like her so much. I wish she’d notice.”

“She will, buddy,” Harry replied, with a comforting pat on his friend’s hand, “She will.”

Bucky headed out after a few more minutes of conversation, giving you a wink and a smile as he walked past your station.

“Bucky visited again, huh?” Rebecca, one of your fellow nurses, sidled up next to you with a teasing grin.

“Yes, Major Egan came by to visit Lieutenant Crosby,” you replied, putting emphasis on their ranks.

“You’re sure that’s all he was here for? Somehow he never shows up here without an excuse to see you…”

“He’s just being nice, Becca,” you insisted, “You know how these soldier boys are.”

“But he’s always—”

“Becca,” you cut her off as gently as you can, “I really don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Alright, alright,” she held her hands up in surrender, “Bucky is an off-limits topic, gotcha.”

The conversation turned to the current hot gossip, and you idly chimed in when it seemed appropriate, losing yourself in your routine tasks.

Rebecca broke off to check on Harry again, narrowing her eyes as she noticed Harry watching you.

“Something Nurse L/N can help you with, Crosby?”

He jumped, gaze darting to Rebecca as she approached.

“No ma’am, I just…”

He scrambled to think of some excuse, but all he could come up with was: “I’m trying to think of some way to get Y/N to notice Bucky!”

Rebecca blinked in surprise, then plopped down onto the stool next to his bed, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Oh thank goodness it’s not just me! He’s been at it for months but the poor girl’s just so oblivious…”

“I keep telling him to just talk to her like a normal person, but he insists on dancing around it!” Harry instantly agreed, glad to have someone besides Jean to talk to about this. “He’s been so distracted lately. If he doesn’t do something soon, I’m worried it might start to affect his flying.”

Rebecca pressed her lips into a thin line, twisting a strand of hair worriedly.

After a few moments of quiet, she spoke up again, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’ve got an idea.”

———

“Hey Bucky,” Harry said at breakfast the next morning, “I’m gonna pop down to the infirmary to visit Winks, wanna come with?”

Bucky quickly agreed— he’d been meaning to check on Winks yesterday as well as Croz, but got caught up in… well, you.

As they entered, Bucky made a beeline for Winks while Harry caught Rebecca’s eye and gave a subtle nod, which she returned, signaling her part of the plan was complete.

She had removed the step stool you always used from one of the supply closets, now hidden under one of the cots nearby. When you weren’t able to reach something on one of the higher shelves, well…

Good thing Bucky was so tall.

“Y/N, would you mind grabbing some more bandages for me? My station’s running low.”

“Sure thing, Becca!” You called, stepping away from your current station to check the supply closet.

“Becca…” your confused voice called from the closet, “Do you know where the stepstool went?”

“It’s not there?” She called back, sounding equally confused. “Let’s see, um…”

She scanned the room, putting on a good show of looking for someone who could help.

“Oh, Bucky! Would you mind helping Nurse L/N grab something from the supply closet for me?”

“No problem, Becca,” came his reply, accompanied with his trademark winning smile as he nodded to Winks and made his way over to the supply closet.

It was much smaller than he’d anticipated, and barely half a foot was all that separated you as he asked, “Alright, what do ya need, sweethea—”

The pet name was cut off by the sound of the supply closet door closing.

And locking.

You lunged for the handle as Bucky reached up to turn on the single lightbulb, both of you calling out in confusion.

“Becca! What?”

“C’mon, guys, this isn’t funny!”

Harry’s voice came through the door, clear and determined.

“Just tell her how you feel, Bucky! Your tactic clearly isn’t working!”

“I— what?” You turned to Bucky, hoping he knew what in the world they were talking about.

Bucky hesitated, but seeing as it seemed he had no choice…

“Well this isn’t… exactly how I wanted to do it, but…” He took a deep breath, twisting his fingers together in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, “I really like you, doll. I’ve liked you since I first laid eyes on you. And I’ve tried every way I know how to tell you, but nothin’ worked, so…” He gestured around at the supply closet, “I guess it came to this? Which wasn’t my idea, by the way. Just for the record. I would never…”

His voice faltered, and you realized just how close you were to him. You didn’t remember moving forward. You were just suddenly there, so close the two of you were almost breathing each other’s air.

“You… you like me?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Doll, you think I call every pretty girl workin’ here my favorite nurse?”

You flushed at the compliment.

“I thought you were just being nice, I didn’t…”

“I mean, I was bein’ nice,” He said with a shrug, grinning, “Just not quite in the way you were thinking.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked down to your mouth, and being this close to you, he couldn’t hide the bob of his throat as he swallowed nervously.

“I’d, uh. I’d really like to kiss you right now, if that’s alright with you, sweetheart.”

You nodded slowly, “I think I’d really like that, Major Egan.”

“It’s Bucky, sweetheart,” he murmured softly as he leaned in, capturing your lips.

You may or may not have spent more than a few lonely nights in your bunk imagining what it would be like to kiss Major John Egan.

Your imaginings were nothing compared to reality.

This was magic unlike anything you could have dreamed.

Your arms wound around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You toyed with the dark curls at the nape of his neck as he slanted his mouth against yours, deepening the kiss. Needing to be closer, you tried to step towards him, but merely succeeded in pressing him back against the shelves.

Ordinarily you would apologize, but something like a thrill ran up your spine when you felt him grin into the kiss as his back hit the shelves, knocking rolls of bandages and boxes of gauze onto the floor.

His right hand moved to cup your cheek, keeping your lips connected as his other hand splayed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer as you arched into him.

You could still feel him grinning as he murmured against your lips, “Knew you were feisty under that good girl act.”

“Bucky,” you whined softly as he pulled away from you, chest heaving.

“Oh, now she uses my name,” he teased breathlessly, bumping his nose playfully against yours.

The two of you flinched as sunlight spilled into the dim closet, a harsh change from the dingy yellow lightbulb you had become accustomed to.

Harry and Rebecca stood in the doorway, wearing twin smug grins.

“Looks like our work here is done,” Becca said, shooting you a wink as she bid farewell to Harry with a two-fingered salute, “Pleasure working with you, Lieutenant Crosby.”

“Same to you, Nurse Carter,” Harry replied, and he turned back to the two of you, a genuine smile on his face.

“About time, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky waved off his friend’s I told you so, “You gonna congratulate me or what?”

“Congratulations,” came Harry’s mock-put-out reply, accompanied by a genuinely congratulatory clap on his arm. “You got a good one. And it only took months of unsuccessful flirting—”

“Hey, I got her in the end, didn’t I?” He squeezed you closer, grinning down at you.

Your lipstick was all over his mouth, and you’re sure the Victory Red on your own lips was in no better shape.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care, however, as he pulled you in for a tender kiss.

Which you broke for a moment to point out, “He isn’t wrong, you know, it was months of unsuccessful—”

Your teasing was promptly cut off with a “shush” mumbled against your lips as Bucky silenced you with a kiss.

#sage answers #major john bucky egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x reader #john bucky egan #john bucky egan x reader #callum turner #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #callum turner masters of the air #callum turner x reader

772 notes · View notes

greenwitchfromthewoods · 4 months ago

Text

broken trust. [part 2] l Joel Miller

Summary: you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of sex, Ellie appears

A/N: I was very happy with how you received the first part of this story. I hope you'll stay with me a little longer and see where it leads us. a few people mentioned tagging - @vickie5446 @dreamtofus 🖤 This part is rather nothing interesting, but I hope you won't waste too much time.

[PART 1]

It was strange to have you by his side again. Although the entire drive to Jackson was silent, Joel felt as if someone had put a gun barrel to his head. Dusk fell rather quickly, the warm evening air filling the car as you cracked the window open.

The patrol you met didn't cause you any trouble and you got to Jackson when the city was lit up by streetlights.

The car parked in front of a building marked as a medical clinic.

"Go home." Joel muttered as Ellie started walking with you towards the front door.

"I don't want to. I'm going with you." The girl was outraged.

"No need. Go."

Ellie snorted, but adjusted her backpack on her shoulder, muttered a quiet "Bye" in your direction and headed down the main street of Jackson.

He was hoping you would say something, but all he heard was the clinic door opening and he saw you disappear inside.

Joel never liked doctors. Every visit reminded him of uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, nervous nurses and doctors who treated everyone with contempt. And that whole strange smell.

The place was neat and clean though, and the doctor, an older man with a slightly nervous disposition, was quite pleasant and didn't take up much of the others' time.

"Y/N!" he smiled happily seeing you in the doorway "I'm very happy to see you. Is everything okay?"

"Hi, Doc. I brought you a patient, but I don't think you'll have much work with him." You replied, smiling at the sight of the friendly face.

"Mr. Miller? What happened to you?" the doctor showed Joel to a chair and helped him take off his jacket. "It doesn't look bad. We'll manage, Mr. Miller."

The doctor carefully disinfected his wound and put in a few stitches. Joel saw out of the corner of his eye how you were walking lazily around the office looking at old anatomy posters and joking with Doc.

Thousands of questions were spinning in his head and he didn't know who he should ask them to, because he knew that he had no right to ask them to you after all this time.

"What about you, young lady?" Doc washed his hands under the tap in the corner of the room and looked at you "How did everything heal?"

"Good, I guess. The scar is healing nicely." you replied and rolled your eyes seeing as Doc gestured for you to come over "No need, really."

Joel frowned and looked up at you. Maybe he shouldn't have done this, but he felt a strange pang in his heart. You were hurt.

Although Doc was covering you, he saw you lift your shirt, showing the doctor your side.

"Mhm. It looks really good." the doctor mumbled "But you have to be careful, okay? And...What is this?"

Now Joel could see clearly, your back was clearly bruised and you hissed when Doc touched the spot.

"The ribs are intact, that's good. When did this happen?"

"Today. But it's my fault. I got distracted."

"Mhm." the man nodded "You need to rest, Y/N. I know I can't force you to do anything, but please, get a good night's sleep and eat something."

"Yes, sir." you smiled "Can I go now?"

You left the clinic and only outside, when Joel spoke to you, did you realize that he had followed you.

"Y/N." Your name still sounded the same on his lips "Do you wanna talk?"

You zipped up your jacket to protect yourself from the cold and looked at Joel. He hadn't changed that much since you last saw him. He might have been more tired, but he was still the same man you'd woken up and fallen asleep next to so many times.

"I don't think we have anything to talk about." You replied, shoving your hands into your pockets "It's good to see you. I'm glad you're alive."

"Today's thanks to you."

"Yeah, take this as a favor for old times. Listen, I'd like to take a shower and lie down, I think I'll go now."

The man nodded. You turned around and started walking away, but after a few steps you stopped and looked at him again. He didn't move even a single step.

"Joel? I'm really glad you found Tommy. And that you're both alive."

The next gloomy days passed, but your enthusiasm didn’t decrease. Joel saw your notes, you calculated everything you needed to come to an agreement with Howard and his friend. Getting out of QZ was your little obsession. You practically didn’t talk about anything else.

And Joel felt worse and worse. He had the impression that a noose was tightening around his neck, which was getting tighter with each passing day.

The first blow came after more than a week. He was in town exchanging food stamps when your fingers tightened on his arm.

"What happened?" he asked, seeing the mixture of different emotions on your face. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing is okay." you mumbled. "We're in deep shit."

Joel looked around uncertainly. The street wasn’t a good place for such conversations. He grabbed your hand and led you home. But he already knew - it had begun.

You didn't say a word the whole way, and when you entered the apartment you just threw off your bag and jacket, sat on the couch and hid your face in your hands.

"Baby?"

You let out a groan of a person who is resigned and angry at the same time. You were filled with emotions and thoughts to the very limits, you needed a moment to yourself. However, after a few minutes he heard your voice.

"He sold it. He sold it, Joel." Your hands slid off your face and Joel saw your glassy eyes "That fucking car, is gone."

A snort escaped your lips, a mixture of laughter and mockery. Joel felt himself sinking deeper and deeper inside.

"I met Howard, he said it was over. I wanted to know more, but he told me to leave it..." you continued, staring blankly at your hands "Leave it! How... How am I supposed to leave it?!"

He approached and sat on the coffee table right in front of you, taking your hands in his. Seeing you like this was just sad.

"I should kill him." You muttered angrily. "I should do it."

"You know you can't. They'll catch you and it'll be even worse."

"I don't fucking care, Joel." Your hands slipped out of his. "He took away our chance. We were supposed to get out of here…"

"I know, I know, babe."

Finally, tears escaped from under your eyelids. It was one of the saddest sights for Joel. You were always so strong, you were on his side and he trusted you like no one else. But in that moment, your faith and hope for a better tomorrow shattered into a thousand pieces.

He allowed you to despair. And it lasted for several days. Joel often saw your red eyes, rarely heard your voice, and was also sure that you barely slept at night.

He wasn't ready for something like this, but he was sure you could handle it. You were tough, you'd get over it and soon everything would be back to normal.

He breathed a sigh of relief when one night he felt your arms wrap around his waist, you snuggled into his back, saying a quiet "I'm sorry."

But Joel knew it wasn't you who should be apologizing.

Tommy finished his coffee and looked at his brother. When he showed up at his house that morning, he seemed really down. At first, Tommy thought he was talking about his failed fling with Ellie. He had heard about it and was really glad that you were the one who found him and the kid.

"So you know Y/N?" he asked.

Joel nodded.

"From Boston?"

Another nod.

"Hmm, you don't seem happy to see her. Am I wrong?"

Joel's long fingers twirled the coffee cup around, he winced slightly.

"That's not it." he finally spoke up. "We have..."

"A story. I get it." Tommy stretched in his chair. "She's been here for a long time. Maybe two winters, I think. She's really helpful. She found and brought Doc here, that helped us. She brought some equipment to the clinic. That helped Maria give birth."

"Yeah, she's good at finding things. And people."

The sound of footsteps upstairs and the babbling of a baby distracted them for a moment. Life went on as usual in this house, and while Joel was always welcome, he knew he had to take care of his own life.

"Talk to her," Tommy finally said, as if reading his brother's mind. "It couldn't have been that bad, could it?"

It was bad.

All your fears came back in the blink of an eye. When you saw Joel after so long, you felt like you were seeing a ghost. You managed to hide all the memories associated with him and the emotions that accompanied them very well somewhere in the back of your head.

Now, however, they scattered around your mind and didn't give you peace. Neither coffee nor a long shower helped. After a sleepless night, you felt like a living corpse, and your back was giving you painful symptoms.

But you couldn't stay in your apartment, you had to do something. So you went outside with the intention of taking what you managed to get during your last trip, to the clinic. Imagine your surprise when you saw a familiar figure next to your car.

"Ellie? What are you doing here?"

"Hi. I came to see you. I didn't know where you lived so I came here." The girl smiled.

"Shouldn't you be at school or something?"

"Day off."

"Yeah, sure." You shook your head smiling. "I don't want to interfere. Joel probably doesn't know where you are, right?"

Ellie shuffled her shoe before answering.

"He's not my father, I can do whatever I want." She replied rebelliously.

You pulled two boxes out of the trunk and put them on the ground. The girl looked at you as if she was expecting what she might hear.

"He may not be your father, but he's the one who cares about you and can keep you safe."

"Did he give it to you too?"

You bit your lip, wondering how to answer. But you knew that only an honest answer would satisfy Ellie.

"Yeah, he did."

"So what happened?"

"These are matters for adults." You replied, but you winked at her.

That assured her that she wasn't entering dangerous territory and you wouldn't be telling her to go back to school or Joel.

"Do you need help?" she pointed to the boxes.

"Come on. At least you'll be doing something useful."

Everything was slowly getting back to normal, and that brought Joel relief. The car and Howard issue was closed, you didn't talk about it and focused on what was around you.

You might have gone out of the QZ walls a little more often, but Joel treated it more as a compensation for you. He even liked it, even though he was constantly looking over his shoulder and keeping an eye on you.

That was all he could give you, a few stolen moments outside the gray world you lived in. And you tried to take as much of it as you could.

You worked at QZ, and in your free time, together with Joel, you would sneak outside. Then you would go back to your shared apartment, make love at night, or just lie on the couch reading some old books. Sometimes you would get carried away by fantasy, like when Joel tried to convince you that he used to be a really good dancer. So you would dance cuddled in the living room while he hummed some melody that only he knew in your ear. It was soothing. His hand gently moving over your back, his voice quiet and calm. This was the life you created for yourselves.

But the end came as suddenly as an avalanche.

"Babe, are you here?"

He threw his jacket on the armchair and looked around the apartment looking for your trace. The place was quiet, but he finally saw you coming out of the bedroom.

"It took me longer today, but I got something extra. Have you eaten anything? I managed to get some fresh bread, I know how much you love it."

You didn't answer. You stood leaning against the door frame and watched him with your arms folded across your chest. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

You knew. He could feel it.

"What did I do to you, Joel?"

Your voice was almost dead, calm and so resigned.

"Sweetie..." he began uncertainly, but he didn't know what to say.

"What did I do to you, Joel?" you repeated the question just as calmly as before. "What did I do to deserve all this?"

He walked up to you and took your face in his large, warm hands. He wanted you to snuggle into them, like always, but your body was completely unmoved.

"I met Howard's friend today. We started talking. I asked if there was a chance for a battery or a reasonably functional car." The words flowed from your lips. "He laughed. He asked... He asked me why I bothered him when my boyfriend would show up soon and give him much more to sell it to someone else. Joel..."

You said his name as if you were begging him to tell you that it wasn't true, that this was all some stupid joke. But he couldn't, you could see it in his eyes.

"How dare you, Joel? How dare you?"

Why did you have to be so calm? That was the worst part of it all. You seemed as cold and unapproachable to him as ever.

"I did it for your own good." He finally replied. "For your safety. Listen, there's nothing there. You're safe here. And you're alive."

"Who gave you the right to decide for me?" you pulled away from him in disgust.

"I care about you!"

"You care about me?!" you scoffed "First you told me beautiful stories about how we'd get out of here, and then you took it all away from me! You watched me cry, you watched how devastated I was... Fuck, you must have really enjoyed it!"

"Don't say that! You know perfectly well that I... You know that you're important to me."

You never named what was between you two. It was good, so there was no need. Besides, you knew perfectly well that Joel wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.

His feelings were described by words like "Be careful", "Don't go there alone", "I'll go first" or "I've got your back". Or in the way he touched or looked at you. But now you were looking at a man you weren't sure you knew.

"Listen. Baby..."

"Don't call me that. That's bullshit!"

Your eyes filled with tears. A chasm appeared between you that couldn't be bridged.

"I wanted this for us." You whispered with difficulty. "I wanted us to leave this place behind. I know it's dangerous there, I know it would be hard, but we would be there together. I wanted you to find Tommy. I would go with you to the end of the world if you only asked..."

"I'm so sorry. You don't even know how much I regretted it. But I couldn't let anything happen to you, you know that."

You nodded and wiped your tear-soaked cheek with your hand.

"Yeah, I know."

Joel approached you and his hand brushed your cheek. He wanted to take you in his arms so much, to feel your warmth. He knew he would never be able to atone for what he had done. But the most important thing was for you to be safe and sound, with him.

For a brief moment he thought that everything would still work out. Joel didn't know how wrong he was.

You were already one foot out the door.

[PART 3]

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader

341 notes · View notes

nohoney · 4 months ago

Text

touya x drug dealer! reader has been an idea that i’ve been wanting to do for a while. i had thoughts of cute flowing dresses, flutes of champagne, strawberries with brown sugar, and a powdery compact mirror with a credit card lined with white at the edge ♡

Touya hates going to the country club. He hates having to get ready to wear the stupid polo shirt and pressed pants his mother picked out for him. He hates having to take out most of his face jewelry, only leaving his eyebrow piercing as a slight rebellion to irritate his father. It’s all so annoying to him but to be fair—

They all hate going to the country club together.

It’s only an obligation for them to attend as a family. To show up so that Enji’s professional business ties can remain intact if the event is important enough. It’s the only time everyone agrees together as a family. Despite the fact that going to the country club is meant to be a luxurious get away, the Todoroki’s see it as anything but.

With the exception of Shouto who is too young to partake in anything, the rest of the family cope in their own ways to survive an agonizing event that none of them want to attend.

Enji smokes in private with the other men, Rei quietly nurses a glass of white wine as she makes polite conversation with the other wives, Fuyumi and Natsuo discreetly pass a weed pen between one another, and Touya…

Well he’s got his special friend that he knows where to find.

All throughout the club, there’s little signs that lead to a certain someone who exchanges little treats for just the right price. It could be money or it could be secrets or something else entirely, but the exchange given has to be deemed equal in value to what is handed out. There’s bouquets that are found throughout the entire club, all seemingly of the same variations except for one flower that’s meant to point you in a certain direction.

Touya walks through the club, noting the one flower that sticks out in the bouquets as a subtle sign of where to find you.

Following the secret path, it leads him this time to a room with only a single piano in the center and the white curtains drawn over the windows.

It’s a beautiful grand piece of shiny, lacquered black and is maintained regularly in its tuning. No music is being played though, all that’s heard is the tinkling laugh from one of the two people that are sitting on the piano bench. Touya walks with his hands in pockets, leisurely in his step when he approaches you. Next to you is the caddy that often accompanies your father on the golf course, amber eyes lifting to him and giving him a friendly nod.

“Touya, so nice to see you again!” you greet with a warm smile. You’re graceful in the way you stand up from the piano bench, sliding your hand along the caddy’s shoulders as you make your way to Touya. He leans down, used to the customary greeting of kissing each cheek from you. The perfume you wear is new, smelling more like citrus and freesia than the usual florals he’s used to.

Turning back to the caddy, you wave him off. “I’ll meet you later Keigo, okay?”

The feathery blonde haired caddy stands from the piano bench, pressing a kiss to your temple first before making his way out.

“So, what can I do for you today Touya? You wanna be perked up? Or you wanna relax?” You ask him immediately, leaning against the grand piano and clacking your manicured nails against the surface.

“You ever think that maybe I’m just here to see you? And nothing more?” Touya playfully nudged his shoe against your ankle, also noting the clean polish of your pedicure. Strappy white heels are your choice of shoe today to compliment your tea dress.

You’re this vision of a good girl, prim and proper, soft and sweet. All the mannerisms you exude are perfected and practiced, taught firmly from the all girls school that you attended. On the surface, you’re just simply the rich daughter to the man who owns the country club. You’re known to love lounging by the pool or reading under the shady trees by the garden. The older adults love to fawn over you, even trying to set you up with suitors but only if they’re screened through your father first.

Rolling your eyes at him, you flash him a smile that sends the message of ‘yeah right’ before you wave him over.

You lift the piano bench where your current stash resides. It’s organized meticulously of all types of different pills and already measured bags of different powders. Nude colored nails hover over the selection that you know him to always get, but you’re polite enough to ask first for confirmation before plucking the packed substances from their spot.

“The usual?”

Touya pulls money out from his pocket, the same exact amount that he’s paid every single time he’s seen you. “The usual.” he confirms.

You hold two baggies for him, one with two blue pills and the other filled halfway of white powder. Touya takes it from you and waits for you to take out the held out cash.

“Mm, this dress doesn’t have pockets. Can’t take it.” you smile as you shut the piano bench, “I’ll take a kiss though.”

Touya smiles back, pocketing his cash alongside the goodies you’ve given him. “Is that how you’re taking payments today? With kisses?”

He knows you want him, you’ve been wanting him ever since he had fucked you at your father’s birthday party just a few months back. He can still recall the champagne he tasted on your lips, the silky material of your party dress as he pushed it over your hips, the smell of peony and honey spritzed onto your skin when he had bit your shoulder. It was an amazing fuck, one that he thought about going back for, but he liked to see you dangle yourself for him. Beg him with those pretty eyes and try to seduce him with low cut dresses or leave lingering touches that you hoped pull him in.

You shrug your shoulders and play coy, stepping into his personal space to smooth your hands along his shoulders as if you were going in to hug him. “Special just for you, I’ll figure it out with the rest.”

His hand slides along the small of your back to pull you in and close the space. “You are so bad.”

“I happen to be a very good girl, my record shows that.”

“Your records were expunged by your dear daddy.”

“So therefore, I have done nothing wrong.” you giggle, “C’mon, stop teasing me like this. You never want to see me outside of this place. I only see you when you and your family come to the club for an event, and you guys always look so miserable.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Touya’s hand drops lower, grabbing at your ass and relishing your little gasp, “because you help me get through these aggravating events.”

He teases you, has you chasing after him and keeps him entertained whenever he comes to this ridiculously posh club. You play the polite girl when you’re out among the crowd but he’s always felt your eyes on him whenever the two of you are in the same room together. If you could keep your eyes on him the entire time you would, but sadly you have to get pulled aside from so many people. From your inner circle, to polite introductions to your father’s colleagues, to the ones who want a little something to get them through the night. You carry yourself with grace and good posture, more than any girl that he had ever met.

You’re the classiest little drug dealer he knows.

And like every deal, a transaction has to be completed. So he leans down to kiss you, holding you tightly by your waist to bring you closer to him. You’re so eager for him locking your fingers behind his neck, sighing sweetly that makes him reminisce of that night you had together. The plush of your lips takes him back to that night, back when you smelled more floral and warm, when he had found you lounging alone at the pool and bored from your father’s party.

Surprisingly you pull away from the kiss. “I like you Touya, c’mon we had so much fun together at my daddy’s party. Don’t you wanna have fun again?”

“I never said that I didn’t want to do it again.” Touya points out as he takes a seat on the piano bench, “It’s crossed my mind.”

You pout at him, the gloss from earlier kissed off slightly sticky on his lips instead. Carefully you wipe away the remnants of the gloss from his lips, smudging it on the pads of your fingers. “You’re so mean, you know that? Don’t you know to not make your plug mad?”

“Ah, how can I make it up to you, princess? Please oh please,” Touya wryly plays along with you, “what can I do to get back in your good graces?”

You hold out your hand to him, “Take a walk with me.”

Walking out hand in hand with you, he is led out of the piano room and allows you to take him to wherever it is you have in mind. You pass by one person that you give a subtle signal too, Touya observing how they make their way to the piano room with a key in hand. He wonders how much you’ve paid off certain workers inside the country club to help and protect you.

He admires that about you, not being afraid to exercise your power. Maybe it just comes with being a spoiled brat who can get her record wiped clean when she calls her daddy with crocodile tears. All this wealth at your disposal and the only thing that entertains you is being the unofficial country club girl scout for xannies, oxies, and other treats.

Touya is led to different halls throughout the club, some he recognizes more than others, but not as well as you do. These are your grounds after all. The caddy from before is seen talking to a group of gentlemen, the elders clearly enjoying conversation with him if the boisterous laughter and the friendly pats on his back are anything to go by. Hell, Touya’s father is apart of the group and even he looks to be amused from whatever quip the feathery haired young man doled out.

Keigo must sense your presence nearby as he immediately looks up to see you. You blow an air kiss to him and he pretends to catch it in his fist. Touya can swears that when he looked at you, you mouthed ‘love you’ to him as they passed by.

He doesn’t know much about Keigo, only that he was brought on by you and that he happens to be very charming with many people. Looks wise, he can see why you went for him but Touya hasn’t taken any personal interest to get to know the caddy.

People pass by and give you pleasant greetings, all of which you returned kindly but never paused to have a conversation. There’s excitement running through you as Touya follows behind, wondering where exactly you’re taking him. He can tell by how eager your pace is that gives it away. It’s precious, he enjoys it too much.

You want him that badly.

━━━━✧

Touya’s not sure how he’ll explain to his mother how his pants got so wrinkled, but it’s a thought that gets pushed out of his mind as he smothers you in a kiss. He’s trying to recall his last excuse when his mother questioned how he became so unkept. The answer isn’t quite coming to him; all he can recall is just the adrenaline he had afterwards from fucking you so good. Normally he’s very smooth with his words, lying easily to anyone when it pleases him, but he had gotten pussy drunk off of you and his brain just wasn’t operating the same.

You and that cunt of yours.

He’s almost upset that he’s been denying himself this entire time. There were plenty of nights recalled the sloppy kisses from you, the elegant way you crooked your finger to bring him to you, and when you pulled on the roots of his hair when he had eaten you out. Truthfully he had wanted to chase you just as much when the deed had been done. But as he’s got you on your knees for him, Touya remembers why he decided to not give into you so easily.

“Please Touya? Please, pretty please?”

It’s so sweet when you beg.

He remembers after coming down from the high that arrogant look on your face when he had helped zip your dress back up. That because he had shagged with you then he was surely to come at your beck and call. Instead of giving in, Touya decided that he’d like to see you chase after him. To have you be the one sending text messages or letting late night calls go unanswered, declining private invitations from you to keep you frustrated.

He still has all your voicemails of you breathless and needy, begging softly for him to just want you back.

Your voice is small and pitched, whiny almost as you pathetically tug at his belt as you sink to your knees. You’re practically drooling for it, eyeing his bulge and caressing it gently through the fabric. Christ, he really made you that in love with his cock. “Oh princess, don’t tell me you’ve been pining after me.” He coos over you and tilts your head up to look at him, “All this time?”

“Yes, god yes!” You admit and jut your lower lip in a pout, “I would wait around for you, hoping you’d answer me or even come visit! I’ve always been so nice to you Touya, and you just ignore me!”

It is the spoiled brat in you that’s making you act this way. You’re such a good girl, a nice girl, a pleasant and sweet and pretty girl that there shouldn’t be any reason to give you this awful treatment. That’s how you see it. That you’re the one who blessed Touya with the rare gift of giving him personal access to you so therefore, he should be grateful and be falling at your feet.

Touya has his own pride though.

“Is that darling caddy you’re so fond of not enough for you?”

“I adore Keigo, I love him,” you admit, “but I want you too.”

You want him desperately, slowly crumbling your pride as you beg softly for him. This is what Touya wanted from you. To see you throw a bit of dignity away just for him.

“Yeah? You mean that?” he asks you, using a single finger under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“Yes.”

He could probably ask anything of you in this moment if it meant that he’d give himself up to you. Something that you would find worth it for him to finally cure your ache. Admittedly one of his fantasies with you is to use one of your fancy lipsticks to draw the filthiest names on your body and take pictures for evidence. He wants to write slut at your tits, whore written in fat letters on your back, maybe even cumdump on your tummy with an arrow pointing down to your cunt. Touya wonders if that would be too much though.

He wants to demean you so bad, knock you off your high horse and make you look pathetic.

Yet there’s also some desire in him to cherish you too. You are the darling of this club, adored and revered and Touya falls into that crowd too. That it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to wear a dainty necklace with his initial, have you in his car for leisurely joy rides down by the coast, and go on those stupid fancy picnics that you posted on your instagram.

“Need you Touya, need you!” you whine, catching his hand and leaning your cheek into his palm. Aw look at you, trying to look sweet for him, giving him doe eyes and batting your lashes.

There’s some laughter outside, just a small group passing by the room you’ve locked yourselves in for privacy. There’s a little sign that you hung on the door handles: the art gallery is closed. Nearby is a sculpture of a nude woman, crafted by one of the local artists here and was in the club’s newsletter not too long ago. Touya glances to it, finding it beautiful and better in person than in the photo they had taken of it. Art is usually better to see in person anyway-

“Touya!”

You’re not on your knees anymore for him, standing to your feet and smoothing down your dress. Ah, you’re upset now—actually upset at him. “If you don’t want me, then just fucking go. You’ve been playing these games with me and I’m tired!” you huff and try to pick up your heels that you discarded onto the floor when you had locked up the room, “Keep the stuff I gave you, I still won’t charge you for today.”

His hand goes to your wrist and he’s pulling you back to him, wrapping you up in a hug as he hushes you, “Don’t be so upset, it’s not a good look for you.”

“Well I wouldn’t be if you would just look at me!” you almost cry, sinking into his body and making a small noise when he hugs you tighter. “Everyone else wants me, why don’t you? Don’t you want me?”

It surprises him how genuine you’re being. You can’t be this upset, can you?

It makes Touya happy that he can make you this way.

“Never said that I didn’t, princess.” he admits finally, “I like you back, is that all you need to hear?”

He’s given a little nod, feeling your hand press at his bulge again. Your hand caresses his cock through his slacks and you sigh a little, slightly tilting your head up and nosing along his jawline. Touya bites down the smug smile that wants to sprout up on his face—this is how he wanted you, on his terms and not on yours. So now that he’s got you right where he wants you…

“Ow!” you cry out when Touya roughly grabs a handful of your hair right at the root, pulling you just enough to make you look up at him. He holds tightly and coos over your shocked expression, your wide eyes looking up at him with a small sense of betrayal. How could he switch up on you so fast like that? “T-Touya..!”

You pout up at him, your lips tempting him to kiss you.

“You’re not the good girl you make yourself out to be. Like you got everyone wrapped around your little finger, huh?” Touya speaks haughtily, his grip flexing slightly and tugging slightly on the roots of your hair, “Good girls don’t sell drugs out of a piano bench and fuck around with the piss poor caddy that’s so popular around here.”

“Maybe not other girls,” you hiss through your teeth, “but I can.”

You can do whatever you want, it’s how you lived your life. If there are any rules you’ve broken, you’ve always been very good to take care of it yourself mostly. Look at how you flout about, walking around with your pretty heels and waving the help over with darling manicured hands, discreetly handing cash and speaking with the sweetest lilt to get people to do what you please.

Touya snorts, but he does admire you all the same. If he had more drive to do anything, he’d probably be working under you too.

But he hates being inside this stupid country club, which is where you typically are when you’re not traveling or with your own gaggle of friends. This is where you like to work after all, and will be yours to run once your dear daddy passes.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” Touya sighs out before leaning down to kiss you. He’s unexpectedly soft considering the tight grip he still has on you, slotting his lips against yours too intimately for someone who also wants to ruin you all the same. It’s a long kiss he gives you, that it even gets the butterflies fluttering inside of his chest.

He pulls back and releases the hold he had on your hair, twirling his finger in a circle to indicate for you to turn around. You present your back to him, getting flashbacks to when Touya had first undressed you. His fingers are cold as he fiddles with the zipper at the back and pulls it down slowly. The dress loosens from your body and you shrug off the thin straps. It falls to the floor in a pool surrounding your feet, and you’re left standing in a little cotton panty that’s lined with lace. Your nipples are perked due to the chill of the room but you don’t bother to cover yourself to retain some modesty.

You’ve been wanting to be like this in front of Touya for the longest time.

You’re given another wordless command, blue eyes briefly glancing down to the hardwood floor. Kicking your dress off to the side, you kneel down in front of Touya once more and watch as he unzips his slacks and pulls his cock through the opening. Your mouth practically waters upon seeing his dick again, so thick and with the prettiest color at the tip you had seen. You’re about to go in when he stops you with a simple little tut.

Glancing up at him, you wonder what he could possibly have to say.

“Don’t get too sloppy, can’t walk out of here with fucking drool stains on my crotch.”

Touya hopes to fuck you in his bed one day, have you squirt on his sheets, and then cum all over your face. But while the two of you are here, the two of you have to be able to come out look presentable. He can’t go as wild as he wants on but he fucking swears that he’s gonna make you fucked out by him one of these days.

You nod in understanding before swallowing his cock into your throat. There’s some dreamy sigh from you as you bob up and down on his cock; you really must have been aching for this. There’s enthusiasm as you swallow all his inches, looking up at Touya and going all doe eyed for him. See how much you wanted him?

He admires your small gags, the way your body lurches when you choke deeply on his cock, but he reminds you again to try to keep your drool from getting on him. Touya wants to fuck your face, he wants to make you cry from fucking your mouth too hard, and even slap your cheek. There’s so much he wants to do but this isn’t the time or place to do any of it.

You’d be pissed off too if he even attempted.

You pull off his cock, a line of drool connecting your lips to his cock still but it gets wiped away quickly by the back of your hand.

Touya grabs your wrist to bring you to your feet, pulling you to the nearest wall to fuck you against. Your hands brace the flat surface, grunting when Touya uses one hand to jut your ass back to him and the other presses your head to the wall. With your back arched, he admires your elegant form under the soft lighting of the art gallery. The lovely still life painting of a bouquet does not compare to how fucking beautiful you are in this moment.

He can’t wait until he can ruin you to tears.

He offers his fingers to your lips, your mouth obediently dropping to lick and spit on them. It tickles a little with the way your tongue drags along his fingers but he doesn’t allow it for long. Touya only needs just enough to finger your hole, even spitting on his own fingers before he does a careful but quick prep after pulling down your panties.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you mutter, your eyes shutting as relishing in his touch, “Fuck me please!”

“Relax.” Touya is firm in his tone, acting cool and masking the equal desperation that is surging throughout his own body. He wonders if you notice how eager his fingers are to be inside you, biting his lip to force down the wolffish smile on his face when he feels how wet you are. All that teasing before that he had done to you was worth it.

It was worth all of it to lead up to this moment.

His fingers withdraw and he sucks on them, savoring the taste of your slick along his tongue. Touya recalls how he ate you out at your father’s birthday party, driving you wild with his tongue on your clit and the sweet noises you made. It would be nice to do it again.

Your body shudders a little as the head of Touya’s cock nudges against your pussy, a sharp little breath sucked in as the first few inches sink into you. “Fuck!” you quietly curse.

Touya would like to savor this, to take his time and work you up into a sloppy, pretty little mess. To finger your clit until you cry out of frustration and then choke you if you give him an attitude. There’s so many things that he wishes he could do in this moment. But you remind him—

“Please hurry, we can’t be in here for long.”

Because you’ve got people waiting for you. People waiting to eagerly meet you, whether at your piano bench or if you’re needed somewhere else to help maintain your father’s appearance. No matter how much Touya has this vision of what he wants, he knows that he truly can not have you in his own way.

But he’s grateful to get you anyway.

He thrusts in, sinking in smoothly but with a sharp clap of his body meeting yours. Your pussy tightens up on him from the brief shock that is also coupled with a small gasp. His hands grasp your hips tightly and he pounds away at you, noticing how you help with the motion by moving back into him as well. It’s quiet inside the art gallery so all Touya can hear is you and the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he fucks hard into you.

“T-Touya!”

It’s just as sweet as the first time, observing how you occasionally look over your shoulder at him and give him sweet doe eyes again. But this time they’re glazed over, your eyelids dropping as you get lost in the pleasure, relishing in everything that you had been waiting for. Touya wonders how many nights you spent fingering yourself to him, he imagines your embarrassment when he would leave your needy voicemails or nudes in his inbox unanswered, and he dreamt more than a few times of you riding that pretty boy caddy in front of him.

I want to fuck you again.

Those words almost slip out as he reaches a hand to finger your clit. Your knees buckle but you maintain yourself, your own little sounds struggling to be kept in. Touya can feel it already, he can feel you just about ready to snap if the way your cunt is clenching around him is any indicator of anything.

“Please cum, please cum!” you desperately whisper, “Please cum in me!”

I need to fuck you again.

Touya fucks harder to get himself to cum, looking down to see that you’ve creamed all over him. He’s grateful that he pushed his pants down enough so that none of it catches onto his clothes. It’d be nice if you could clean up his cock with your mouth after he cums in you, but you’ve got to come out looking as proper as you can be.

So no hair pulling, no spitting in your mouth, no crying to ruin your makeup, and no marks are to be left.

But if you’re going to beg him to cum in you, you should be able to accommodate a reasonable request.

Touya leans over, feeling his control ready to let go as he’s about ready to burst as he mutters in your ear, “Keep my cum in you, keep me inside you.”

His words have your eyes rolling back, answering him with a jittery nod and a sweet yes hissed into the air. “Yes, fuck yes!”

I am going to fuck you again.

Touya jolts into you one last time, pressing himself so deep that you whine his name. He’s emptying himself into you, spilling cum into that delicious cunt of yours. He chances putting a hand at your throat to choke you, his fingers careful at your windpipe and peering down at you as your orgasm wipes your mind blank and has you going limp that he has to catch you.

And then there’s silence.

He’s holding your body against him, carrying your weight as your mind tries to start back up again. Touya drinks in this moment because he knows he won’t get a repeat of this. He may never get the upper hand again now that he’s given you what you’ve been aching for.

He wants to keep coming back not to just buy off you, but to keep seeing you.

“Good, Touya?” you manage to find your voice and lean back against him, patting your hand against his arms that are still holding you tightly.

“The best.” He answers

You chuckle, nodding your head and still remaining in his hold with his cock in you. He wonders why you haven’t bothered to start making yourself proper—

The door to the art gallery unlocks and it has Touya jolting. All the curse words he knows flash in succession in his mind but you pat your hand against him. “It’s okay, it’s Keigo.”

Sure enough, it is.

The pretty caddy with blond hair is approaching the two of you with two small towels in hand. Had he been waiting outside the entire time?

Touya wonders if every move you’ve made has been calculated. Did you know for sure that he would finally fuck you today after keeping you waiting for so long? And to have your favorite toy waiting on hand to clean you up as well?

He takes the offered towel from Keigo but doesn’t offer a thanks. Touya wipes off the remnants of you off his cock, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he pulls his pants back up. His belt buckle clinks as he makes himself presentable.

“Can we stay and talk for a little Keigo?” you ask leisurely as the caddy places the towel over a wooden bench for you to sit on. You’re smoothing down your hair as you sit down, Keigo kneeling down on one knee to massage your calves. Your dress and heels still lay discarded as you appear to take your time getting ready to leave.

“Just for a little, okay? Hana is looking for you—“ Keigo informs you and laughs a little as you groan at the name. It seems he has the sense to not continue the sentence.

Touya is dressed, his pants not as wrinkled as he hoped they would be. Rei will probably take notice like she did last time but this time, he has enough clarity to give an answer that he knows his mother will not believe but does not have any backbone to question.

He supposes that he should go out there.

He’s got what he wanted anyway.

“See ya princess.”

“I’ll see you out there Touya.” You call to him just as he’s out the door.

Stopping by a restroom first, he puts himself in the privacy of a stall after locking the door. He retrieves the dime bag and admires the scaling of the cocaine inside the plastic. He fishes out a key from his wallet, using the tip of it dip into the bag. He inhales a sizable bump into each nostril, wiping his nose clean before flushing the toilet for the sake of seeming as if he had used the facilities.

He joins Natsuo and Fuyumi, the weed pen offered to him as well but he declines. Just a little further down, Shouto is with two boys that he seems to have made friends with. One of them is blond and huffing his chest while the other has hair the color of an evergreen tree and seems to be the mediator of whatever fuss is going on.

Touya leans back into his seat, just a touch more awake as he tastes the drip at the back of his throat.

━━━━✧

It’s a relief when it’s finally time to leave.

Enji and Rei are side by side, she’s holding onto his arm for balance, teetering slightly to the right but is corrected by her husband as he helps her into the car. Shouto is waving his friends goodbye before going along to Fuyumi’s side. She asks him if she had fun and he answers yes. She is no longer high but Natsuo takes a small hit of the pen one last time to tolerate the car ride.

Touya is about ready to take his place inside the car when he hears his name. He looks back to see you walking towards him and he decides to walk to you so that none of his family eavesdrops.

“Thank you for seeing me today, I really enjoyed your company.” you speak with a bubbly lilt and your smile more pleasant than usual. Of course you’re happy—you and Touya finally fucked again.

“Thanks for having me.” Touya responds a little flatter than he intended to, just trying to keep his family off his tail so that they don’t ask questions.

“Text me later.”

It’s not framed as a hopeful question; you’re telling him to text you.

“I will.”

He means it.

No more ignoring or being coy, not anymore since you got what you wanted and Touya knows that he’s given up the power to you. It was nice to briefly wield it but he knows in the end that you are the one to hold all the cards and have things aligned with how you want them.

Touya avoids his father’s gaze as he gets into the car. He leans back into his seat at the very back of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling the buzz of the coke starting to wind down. He chances looking back and you’ve hung around in your same spot, appearing to see him off.

The windows are tinted and he’s sure that you can’t see him through the glass but you wave anyway, as if knowing that he’s looking at you. He resists waving back.

And as the car starts, someone joins you. Wearing all black and with slightly unkempt white hair, Touya recognizes your foster brother. He’s only seen Tomura around a handful of times—unlike you that leaves a trail to be found, he’s a bit elusive.

The car starts to pull away, Touya watches from his seat as your foster brother leans down to you. One would think that he just leaned down to kiss your cheek but he swears that it was a kiss on the lips. It was hard to tell when enough distance had blurred the interaction.

Not that it matters to him anyway.

Later that night, Touya does as promised and he texts you. All the previous messages in his inbox from you were one sided but now he’ll be expected to reach out to you. Maybe you can meet him at a different place occasionally, take you for a ride in his white mustang or share a sorbet with you in the downtown area.

He knows that he will have to meet you more often at the country club though—it is where you work after all.

Touya hates the country club but he’s only ever gone to have a chance to see you.

#todoroki touya x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #tw drugs

317 notes · View notes