#other stuff he pulls is stupid too when he steps on the toes of people who have the power to retaliate

[mutalieju]

I really enjoyed the series of stupid decisions jon makes in arkham shadow and like tbh at least the court hearing debacle where his plan, as far as i can tell, was 'i'll kill a witness middle of a courtroom and then gaslight everyone about it' was made while he was tripping balls on fear toxin

but he had a great thing going on there, getting to do whatever because of his position at blackgate but he just couldn't help fucking around with people, mainly dent, he really shouldn't have. like he literally pushed harvey into a breaking point for no other reason than that he was curious what'd happen, and like, great idea to mess with the guy who is covering for you and is your friendly contact in the DA's office

[unreliablesnake]

The Bet – part 2 (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: Ghost admits that he wants more from you, and so the two of you go on your first official date.

Note: Here's part 1. I didn't expect people to like it this much, so I decided to write a short part 2. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Part 3

Warnings: none, it's fluff.

It had been there for weeks. An invisible string connecting the two of you, pulling you to the other no matter how hard you tried to resist. Again and again you found yourself staring at him in secret, watching him intently even in crowded rooms. You didn’t care that anyone could notice it, you couldn’t resist the urge to keep an eye on him.

And Ghost was aware of this. His eyes often met yours, his gaze resting on you for longer than it did when he looked at other members of the team. Could it be that he felt it too? Could it be that he noticed that string as well?

All of this had begun when you licked his arm because of a stupid dare. Ever since he touched you, you had been yearning for more, you wanted to feel his hands all over your body, pleasuring you in any creative way he could think of. He lit a fire inside of you, and you didn’t know how you could put it out.

Not like you truly wanted it to end, after all it was the kind of sweet torture many often choose to experience. But they usually knew they would eventually get what they were waiting for, but in your case Ghost was off limits. He was a lieutenant, and as such, he was your higher up. It couldn’t happen. Not without consequences.

��Are you listening?” Ghost asked you, one palm placed on your shoulder, his thumb absentmindedly massaging your neck. “Sergeant, I asked you a question.”

Why did he have to do this? Did he really have to touch you? It made your knees weak and you were struggling to stand straight. His hand stayed where it was, maybe even gripping you a little harder now, keeping you in place.

You cautiously looked around, making sure no one was around, then stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his mask. He drew in a sharp breath as his dark eyes fell on you, watching as you stepped back and folded your hands behind your back.

Despite his initial reaction, he looked surprisingly calm, maybe even a little cold. “What was that all about?” he asked you with his head slightly tipped to the side.

“I don’t know,” you lied. Because you knew. Deep down you knew you wanted him to know you were interested in him. That you wanted him so badly that it made you stupid.

Ghost shook his head as he inhaled loudly. “Don't lie to me. Just say it. Tell me the truth.”

“I can't… I just,” you tried again, but your voice faded as you failed to put your thoughts into words.

His eyes suddenly softened and he even took a small step towards you. “I already told you, love, only do things like that when you really want it, not because of a bet,” he told you, although his voice was kind.

Letting out a sigh, you shook your head. “It's not a bet, not this time,” you assured him.

Ghost reached out and took your hand, gloved fingers lacing with yours. It took you some time to look him in the eye and see how expressive they were now. Those warm brown eyes were locked on you, telling you that he was eagerly waiting for your explanation.

“While we were away with Price and Gaz, I–I couldn't stop thinking about what I had done. I know it was just a stupid, childish bet, but–”

“But you want more now,” he interrupted you, his voice carrying a hint of hesitance despite sounding confident. You nodded, silently waiting for his reaction. “You're not the only one,” Ghost finally admitted.

This brought a smile to your face. He wanted you as well. So you weren't imagining things, he truly felt the same way about you. You raised your free hand to his masked face, resting it on his chin that was free of the hard plastic skull, and he immediately leaned into your touch.

“You haven't even seen me without my mask yet,” he suddenly said, earning a shake of your head in response. “And if it turns out I'm not your type?”

“I know you and that's enough for me. Do you want me to tell you about all the things I want you to do to me?” you asked suggestively, your hand moving from his chin to his chest, a finger hooking under his vest to pull him closer.

“Stop teasing me, Sergeant, or else…”

“Or what?”

Ghost let out a deep growl as he let go of your hand and simply pushed you until your back hit the nearest wall. Your entire body trembled from the excitement you felt, eagerly waiting for him to take off his mask and finally kiss you. But he had a different idea as he wrapped his hand around your throat and ran his thumb over your jawline before leaning closer to you.

You didn't say anything. You couldn't say anything. He didn't do much, yet it was more exciting than anything you had imagined in the past weeks. This man could play you like a violin, knowing perfectly well how to make you lose your sanity. You thought you were teasing him? No, you were just playing some stupid game.

This. This right here was the definition of teasing.

“Mission's almost over,” he began quietly, “why don't we meet once we're done here? We could have fun.” Even though you opened your mouth to respond, no sound left your throat. “I'll send you the time and the address. I won't wear my mask so I'll find you there. Just be patient, that's all you have to do.”

•••••••••

In the message Ghost told you where and when to meet, and he even warned you to call him Simon outside of work. It was okay, you couldn't wait to test what it would feel like when his name rolled off your tongue.

Simon.

You smiled to yourself after you silently mouthed his name while sitting at the bar, looking at your cocktail. As you stirred your drink with the straw, out of the corner of your eye you noticed a guy looking at you from a few seats away. Could it be him? He seemed tall and big enough.

“You shouldn't be ogling other men when you're waiting for your date,” someone suddenly whispered into your ear.

You turned your head to the side to face the source of the familiar voice. That's when you truly saw him, looking at you with the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. Is this what he had been hiding under that mask all this time? You gulped, having a hard time figuring out what to say. Should you kiss him? Or would it be too soon?

Before you could make up your mind, Ghost pressed his lips to yours, cautiously tasting you, as if he was unsure about the whole thing. Your heart wanted to jump out of your ribcage while you were kissing him, the excitement you felt being too much to bear. He was excellent at making you feel good, and he was certainly aware of the effect he had on women.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, love,” he told you before taking the empty seat next to you.

Giggling like some stupid schoolgirl, you twirled your hair and looked at him through your lashes. “You can't complain either, handsome.”

What the fuck was wrong with you? How did you turn into this giggling mess all of a sudden? It was just a handsome face and a kiss that felt too good to be true. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath and listened to Ghost ordering a bourbon for himself.

You were screwed.

You were brought out of your thoughts by Ghost when he reached out to take your hand in his, large fingers enveloping it tightly. “Simon,” you began, enjoying the way it felt to say it out loud, “are you sure about this? I mean, about being here with me?”

The lieutenant flashed a surprisingly wide smile at you as he raised your hand to his lips. “I wouldn't be anywhere else.”

And you believed him. You believed every word he said because he was so nice, and warm, and soft, everything he wasn't while working. He was usually focused on the mission, and even though he was often worried about his teammates, he never seemed this relaxed.

“Do you live here? In London, I mean,” you asked.

Ghost shook his head. “No, I'm from Manchester. Lived there my whole life.”

Your face began to hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn't stop, not with him around. Simon and Ghost were so different that if you hadn't known he was coming here to meet you, he could've sat there next to you the whole night and you wouldn't have noticed it was him.

Simon seemed perfect so far–nice, and kind, and loving, unafraid to show his emotions. The more you found out about him as you talked, as you kept questioning him, the more you understood the use of the mask. He was building a barrier between his private and work personalities. He was protecting himself, and maybe even those he cared about.

Then your series of questions came to an end, and it was his turn to ask you about yourself. He wanted to know about your family, about your hobbies, about your taste in music and movies. He wanted to know everything, really. And he paid attention to your words. He truly wanted to get to know you, it wasn't just pretend.

“Why don't we watch a movie?” he asked you, referring to the new part of a series he now knew you loved. “I have time.”

But you didn't want that. You wanted something entirely different, something more intimate. You wanted all of him, finding out what it felt like to be touched by him. So you began to massage his hand with your thumb, giving him a seductive smile that easily told him what you truly wanted now.

“Or we could go to my hotel room,” he corrected himself with a smile.

You leaned over to place a soft kiss on his lips, one he eagerly turned into a more passionate one. He slowly slipped off his chair and stood next to you without breaking the kiss, hands resting on the sides of your neck to keep you focused on him. Little did he know that he didn't need to do that, you were already hyper-focused on him, forgetting about the outside world completely.

“I'd rather choose this latter option,” you said quietly, your forehead resting against his.

Ghost smiled at you before giving you another quick kiss. “I'm glad you said that.” He extended his hand, offering you to take it. “Come on love, let's get out of here.”

[steddiewithachance]

Will You Still Need Me?

Summary: Steve Harrington is avoiding telling his professional-musician-boyfriend, Eddie, that he's going deaf because he's worried about what will happen when he does.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Or Read on AO3

May 12, 1992: Today

Jeff:

Jeff sighs tiredly when he hears a quiet knock on his door. He sets his book down and pulls himself off the couch causing the new leather to crease and croak under his weight. He grabs his wallet off of the kitchen counter, thumbs it open, and picks out a few dollars on the way to the door. He's expecting it to be the pizza he ordered twenty minutes ago which is why he's stunned into silence when he clumsily swings it open to find Steve hunched over with red eyes and messy hair. 

Steve’s obviously been crying, which scares Jeff like a punch to the gut because, in all the years of knowing each other and touring together, Jeff can't remember ever seeing Steve cry. He feels frozen. Steve looks down at the cash in Jeff’s hand and gives a watery smile.

"That for me, boss?" Steve asks, reaching for the money playfully. Jeff pulls it back instinctively before realizing that he made a joke, and gives a sort of delayed scoff. 

"Sorry man, I thought you were the pizza guy." Jeff steps back, pockets the cash, and opens the door invitingly. Steve nods and steps inside. He toes off his shoes and points to the living room.

"The place looks awesome fully decorated, dude." Steve's padding the impending serious conversation with small talk about Jeff’s new apartment. It's like he's trying to put Jeff at ease when really it should be the other way around. Steve's always been selfless like that.

"Oh, yeah thanks, I think so too. And thanks for helping me move all my stuff last week, couldn't have done it without you. Roadie of the year." Jeff watches as Steve's face falls at that. Oops, what'd he say wrong? This is why no one should trust him to comfort people, he always messes up. 

Jeff takes a seat on the couch and pats the spot next to him. He's working through theories in his head as to why Steve's been crying and why he's shown up here. The first theory is that Steve and Eddie broke up. This would be pretty unexpected because Jeff knows about the promise ring that Eddie is hiding back at their place. He knows that, at least in Eddie's eyes, their relationship was on the trajectory to last.

Steve takes a seat on the opposite end of the cherry leather couch and runs a hand through his hair, it's an anxious tick that Steve does a lot, and it explains the messy look he's sporting today.

The second theory is that Eddie just said something stupid and it hurt enough for Steve to seek reassurance from someone who has known Eddie for twelve years. This is the more likely theory, and it's gonna end in a disappointed phone call from Jeff to Eddie once Steve leaves. All of the Corroded guys are very much aware and slightly envious of what a good boyfriend Eddie has. 

Steve is caring on a bad day and downright devoted on a good one. He has stood by Eddie's side through thick and thin with steadfast loyalty and understanding. And nobody lets Eddie forget it, not that Eddie takes it for granted, but Steve has spent years bending over backward to support Eddie's dreams and acclimating to the touring musician's lifestyle. It's really sweet.

"I'm sorry I came over unannounced. I know it’s shitty of me. You coulda had someone over." Steve sniffles and wipes his face with the sleeve of his oversized sweater. Jeff hasn't really been on a date since he broke up with his last girlfriend, who didn't want to do long distance when the band moved. 

"No, it's totally fine. You're free to stay and have pizza with me." Jeff offers, sinking back into the couch, trying to project a calm energy to Steve who is fidgeting and scanning Jeff's face carefully.

"I-" Steve starts before he presses his lips together tightly and tilts his head toward the ceiling, barely holding back tears. Jeff hates when his friends are sad, he feels kind of like a kid seeing a parent cry for the first time. You don't really know how to help and it's deeply unsettling.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" Jeff whispers softly. He places a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder which startles Steve. His eyes shoot open and he focuses in on Jeff's mouth. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Jeff apologizes, embarrassed. 

"No, you're fine. I just... I went to the doctor today," Steve begins. 

A siren goes off in Jeff’s head. This may be a much more serious conversation than Jeff feels equipped to handle. 

"And I know everyone has been getting annoyed at me for asking them to repeat themselves all the time." Steve's fist hammers against his thigh. Jeff's not sure if it's Steve is punishing himself or if he's trying to hold back from crying. Should he reach out to interfere?

"And I expected them to tell me that I have a little hearing loss, no big deal, but they said-" Steve chokes out a sob and a tear falls down his cheek quickly, like a little shooting star. "They came to the conclusion that I have severe and progressive hearing loss. And they said there's a good chance I'll lose my hearing altogether." Steve's voice pitches up at the end, and Jeff's heart drops.

Steve is full-on crying, shoulders bouncing, hands covering his face, and Jeff instinctually wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. He knows that if Steve's best friend, Robin, didn't live across the country Steve would probably go to her about all this. But since Corroded Coffin relocated out west, Steve's support system right now is pretty limited to the members of the band. 

Jeff tucks Steve under his chin and rubs circles into his back while he shakes. He's trying his darndest to be what Steve needs right now. A small asshole-ish part of him is smug that Steve came to him and not Gareth or Grant.

Jeff holds him for a few minutes, telling Steve it's okay when his breathing stutters. After a little, Steve pulls back and wipes his eyes with his tear-soaked sleeves. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to c-cry so much. This is embarrassing." Steve hiccups. 

Jeff shakes his head earnestly. "No need to be embarrassed, Steve, let me get you a tissue."

Jeff springs up and slides into his room to get the box of tissues. 

When he returns, Steve is trying to compose himself. He hands the box to Steve who takes it gratefully. And right before he sits down again, the doorbell rings. 

Goddamn it.

Steve turns around to look at the door and then up at Jeff to inquire as to whether or not Jeff is going to open it. He leans down and takes Steve's hand.

"I am so sorry, Steve, let me send them away so you can continue." He apologizes, horribly annoyed at the interruption. He shoves the cash into the pizza delivery girl's hands before closing the door in her face and tossing the warm box on the coffee table.

He rejoins Steve on the couch and looks at him with the most comforting expression he possibly can. 

"Anyways, the reason this has me so fucked up is because it's obviously gonna affect Eddie. Like I'm not supposed to attend any loud concerts anymore." Steve immediately crumbles again and brings his knees up to his chest. "Just my fucking luck too because of course the one thing I can't do is attend my boyfriend's concerts. I don't know what's worse, not being allowed to go to his shows anymore or knowing I won't be able to hear any of his music in a few years." 

Fuck, this is tough. Jeff rubs Steve's knee supportively and then grabs the blanket hanging on the back of the couch and wraps it around Steve's shoulders.

"Eddie's not gonna want me anymore." Steve finally whispers, admitting the root of his worry, the heartbeat of his pain, and the thesis of why he's here. It's a foolish worry, Eddie's obsessed with him. 

"Steve, that's not true. You know it's not true. Eddie loves you so much." Jeff argues.

Steve shakes his head and curls further into a ball, gasping and shaking with the fear that Eddie might not want him after this. Jeff bites his fingernails. How does he tell Steve that Eddie has a pseudo-engagement ring hidden in one of his boots tucked deep in their closet and is fully prepared to emotionally commit to their relationship without actually telling him any of that?

"I mean what kind of musician would want a boyfriend who can't even hear him play? He asks for my opinion on his songs all the time." 

"Steve," Jeff squeezes his shoulder and waits for Steve to look up so that he can continue. "You are so much more to Eddie than just a pair of ears. He will not leave you over this, there's no way." But Steve looks unconvinced. 

"Did he ever tell you about the swim meets?" Jeff asks with a mischievous grin. This was one of the stories that Eddie had sworn Jeff to secrecy about when he started dating Steve. Steve furrows his brow and shakes his head. 

Before he starts telling this frankly forbidden story, Jeff flips open the pizza box and inches it toward Steve in case he's hungry. Steve hesitantly takes a slice.

"Well in high school, Eddie would drag us to these swim meets, Grant and I. And at first, we had no goddamn clue why. It was hot, overcrowded with jocks, and so unlike anything Eddie had ever expressed interest in before. But then you walked out in a swimsuit and it all made sense. He saw you and blushed so hard dude... He made us go to every single meet of the season. He even got the crazy idea of trying out for swim team just so he could be bossed around by swim captain, Steeeeve Harrington." Jeff regales, and Steve sends him a wide-eyed disbelieving look. Jeff nods emphatically. 

"And then in the summer, he dragged me out to the community pool every other day hoping you'd show up. You, of course, had your own pool that we didn't know about.” Jeff smiles at the memory. He misses the simplicity of high school sometimes. “The idea of wearing a swim cap eventually scared him off, but he was so absolutely delusional that summer, thinking he'd enjoy being on the swim team or even make it on in the first place. Wayne surely got a kick out of the idea."

Steve is looking up at him, hiding a smile behind his slice of pizza. The amusement is contagious. Jeff starts laughing at the memory, glad he gets to share all of Eddie's embarrassing "Steve moments" with the man himself now.

"All this to say, Steve, Eddie went out of his way to be around you before you probably even knew his name. Eddie thinks the world of you, he won the boyfriend lottery and he knows it. You have nothing to worry about." Jeff assures him and feels like he did a good job when Steve blushes at the compliment. But maybe Steve's anxiety about being a burden extends beyond just Eddie.

"I know the guys would all be willing to learn sign language if you needed us to." Jeff continues, "Plus they make these really big ear coverings that you can wear at concerts to block out loud sounds. We can ask your doctor if you could still watch so long as you're wearing those." 

Steve puts down his half-eaten slice of pizza on top of the box and gently envelops Jeff in a kind hug. Jeff smiles into his hair.

"Thank you," Steve mumbles into his shoulder. Jeff pats his back good-naturedly. 

"Eddie's gonna kill me for telling you the swim story. You better start writing me a nice eulogy, Steven" 

Steve huffs at that.

Steve:

Steve unlocks the door to his apartment and slinks inside. He's emotionally exhausted from the day, but he already knows he's gonna have to tell Eddie everything before bed. There's no way he'd be able to sleep without getting things off of his chest. He'd feel guilty and gross about keeping Eddie in the dark.

He feels better after Jeff's, a little at least. But Steve just has a gut feeling that even if Eddie says they're okay, he's still gonna be disappointed. Nobody has the spare time lying around to learn a new language, least of all Eddie, if things come to that. And music is truly such a big part of Eds’ identity and their relationship that he can see his boyfriend pulling away. 

It flashes behind Steve's eyes like a nightmare: Eddie throwing himself into work more and more, spending less time at home, leaving Steve behind when they travel for shows. And it all ends with Steve abandoned and alone in a big empty house again, but quiet in a way he's never known. 

Steve kicks off his shoes at the entryway, habitually, and Eddie slides around the corner with a sweet smile. He scoops Steve into his arms and kisses the crown of his head with an exaggerated ‘muah’.

"Hi baby, I missed you," Eddie says lovingly. Steve wonders what it would be like to forget Eddie's voice. The thought spears through him painfully. 

 Steve stands still in the embrace, arms hovering at his sides. He doesn't want to cry again, he's cried so much today, but his throat is burning with it. His eyes are getting blurry. 

Hold yourself together, goddamn it! 

Eddie steps back and takes Steve’s face in his hands, brushing the first tear when it falls. Eddie looks up anxiously at Steve. 

"This is about the doctor's?" Eddie asks, but it's delivered like a statement and he already knows the answer. Steve stands quietly, watching Eddie look back and forth quickly between his eyes, seeking answers. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't see whatever face Eddie makes when he nods. Eddie immediately pulls him into a crushing hug, rocking them back and forth. 

He pulls away, which feels like a funeral to Steve, but luckily it's just so Eddie can grab his hand and pull them towards the bedroom. He sits Steve down near the headboard of the bed so he can sit in front of him, legs crossed.

"Talk to me." Eddie requests.

"I’m going deaf, Eddie." Steve expresses with none of the eloquence he had at Jeff's place. 

Eddie folds over at the news, covering his eyes with a hand. He takes a big shaky breath and when he pulls his hands away he's teary too. Steve doesn't know what that means: Eddie crying. His thoughts are racing about how this conversation might conclude. Jeff was confident, but Steve is terrified.

"Did they say what caused it?" Eddie's voice cracks. He pets his hands up and down Steve's thighs. 

"Mix of head trauma and loud music probably," Steve responds dismissively like it's obvious. But for some reason, Eddie breaks, keels over, and starts crying into Steve's lap. Steve rests a hand on Eddie's back, palm to spine, a little bit in shock.

Eddie pulls away so Steve can read his lips; he relies on it these days. "I'm so sorry Steve, this is all my fault." Eddie cries. And then Steve feels doubly terrible because he didn't even consider that Eddie would blame himself for it. "All my fault."

"It's not your fault. It's all those concussions I got as a kid."

Eddie grabs Steve's hands, kisses them, and holds 'em to his heart. "It's partly my fault, the loud music, the random concerts I dragged you to that you didn't even want to go to. I feel fucking terrible about it." 

“I did want to go. You never forced me.” Steve argues and pulls his hands away from Eddie’s hold.

“Not always. I could tell you were just being a good sport about getting dragged to ‘em sometimes.” Eddie pulls the collar of his sweatshirt up to hide his face in it. 

Steve crosses his arms. He wants to cut to the chase.

"So where do we stand?" 

Eddie lowers the sweatshirt to watch him for a moment, trying to decipher what Steve is asking him. 

"What do you mean?" Eddie shakes his head confusedly. Eddie drags a sleeve across his face.

"Do you still want me or not, Munson?" Steve slouches back against the headboard. Eddie lurches forward, eyes wide.

"Do I still want you? What- you think I wouldn't want you anymore?" Eddie sounds equal parts angry and heartbroken. 

"I don't know, you tell me. If I wasn't allowed to go to your shows anymore, if things got so bad that I couldn’t hear your music at all, if you had to learn sign language or whatever just to talk to me, what use would I even be to you?" 

Eddie flops his hands against the bed sheets, frustrated.

"Use?! It's not about being useful or being convenient. If you can't come to my shows anymore, I'd miss you but I wouldn't hold it against you! I know for a fact being with me hasn't been easy or convenient for you, but you never complained about any of the shit you had to deal with." Eddie pauses, "I'm kinda hurt you think I'd abandon you after I feel like this is my fault to begin with." 

"Well, I wouldn't want you to stay with me out of pity!" Steve's voice is embarrassingly shaky. He hates fighting with Eddie but sometimes he doesn't know how to de-escalate, the overwhelming emotions just bubble out of him like magma. 

"I don't want to feel like I'm holding you back. That's- that's what it was like with my parents. All the resentment- it stings." Steve sniffles.

Eddie nods knowingly, realization washing over his face as he seems to take it all in and get what this conversation is about now. Eddie takes a deep breath and starts over. 

"I love you, Steve. So much. I want to spend my whole life with you." Eddie wipes his eyes and rubs the sadness into the bedsheets. "I'm not going anywhere. I'd pay a million dollars for a hearing aid if you needed it. I'd take ASL classes with you for years, I'd even fucking quit the band if that's what was best for us." Eddie reaches out and squeezes Steve's thigh. "It's not about pity or obligation. You're my person, okay? Whatever you need from me I'll give you. Easy." 

Before Eddie's even finished talking, Steve is sobbing again. He shifts and crawls into Eddie's lap who happily pulls him in and cradles him soundly. 

"Okay?" Eddie asks and Steve nods. 

They stay like that for a good long while. And now Steve feels gross for doubting Eddie, to begin with, but he needed to hear that they were okay from Eddie himself. 

"Jeff told me you'd say that. I'm stupid," Steve breathes into Eddie's neck. 

"When did you talk to Jeff?" 

"Just came from there. I was scared about what you'd say." Steve pulls back to make sure Eddie's not mad. "He said you wouldn't break up with me."

Eddie's brows crease and he bites the inside of his cheek. 

"You never have to be scared of me, Steve." Eddie runs a hand through Steve's hair softly working out tangles. "I'm glad he was there to help, though. He was right."

"'M sorry for doubting you, Teddy. But if you change your mind I'd get it."

"I'm not changing my mind Steve, never changing my mind. Want you forever and ever." Eddie sighs into Steve's sweater. Eddie has said it before, the forever thing, but it was before Steve had this big medical issue looming over him so inevitably. A part of him settles, knowing Eddie's flexible about the future. 

And well... Steve can't not bring it up. "He also told me you perved on me at all my swim meets, freak." Steve smiles when he feels the man under him go rigid and gasp dramatically. 

"No, he did not!" Eddie blanches. Steve fiddles with the necklace clasp resting at the top of Eddie's spine and nuzzles his cheek against Eddie's temple. 

"I could give you some private swim lessons if you're still hellbent on making swim team." Steve teases.

"You're such a little shit. And Jeff is dead to me. I'm finding a new rhythm guitarist. Is nothing sacred? Traitor!" 

"He knew you'd say that too."

[crybaby-bkg]

Under Wicked Charm

Dabi x f!reader

Warnings: smut, no quirks, demon sex, incubus Dabi, succubus reader, blood kink/play, dom/sub undertones (sub leaning Dabi), reverse cowgirl, deep throating, cunnilingus, dick piercing (ofc), aphrodisiacs, 69 position, implied age gap, unprotected sex, mentions of wings tail and horns, a bit of praise, creampies, brief mention of pregnancy. please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I’m so not used to writing a dom top but I’m TRYING okay lmfao I love reading it but don’t write it enough but how will I get better if I don’t write it more!!!! also this has been on my ao3 for a while I just got lazy uploading it here lol but pls enjoy!!

Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

also available on ao3!

The bar is darkly lit, a strobe effect being casted upon a crowd of people, drunk and high alike. It feels like everyone has been dancing for hours; feet sore, legs cramped, but somehow unable to stop themselves from grinding and groping, singing and screeching, until they drop. 

They don’t know that this is a club for the otherworldly. 

The fairies in the corner all snicker at the people who complain of the aches and pains, going round and round in circles, despite the stabbing pain they must feel in their toes. Dabi is all too familiar with it, after pissing a fae off once when he ghosted her. He can only imagine how the humans feel, being forced to dance this macabre number until they pass out from exhaustion. 

When that bores him, Dabi turns away from the crowd, rests on the bar in front of him. He whistles at the bartender, a witch who knows him all too well and the good stuff that he likes mixed in with his drinks. She nods to him before fixing it, and he catches her dumping something from one of her little vials into his drink, the black fume wallowing up and around her arm before she shakes it away, mixing it all in with a red straw. 

“You remembered,” He nods his head to her with a teasing grin, watches how she rolls her eyes as she pushes his drink over for him to catch. 

“And you never remember to pay your tab.” She quips back, but she can’t help the proud smile on her face when he downs half of it in one sip, groaning when he finally pulls the rim away from his wet lips. He licks the moisture away, before glancing up at her from under dark lashes. 

“What’s a tab again?” Dabi asks playfully, slinking away into the dance floor as she hollers for him to stop playing stupid when already is. He can’t help but snicker under his breath, sipping at his drink as he makes his way through the crowds of people until he finds the steps that lead up to the higher level, where the VIP sections are. He nods his head at Shigaraki, who sits in his section with his feet up and his phone in his hand, and instead of sitting with the boring fuckin’ crowd, Dabi leans on the railing that overlooks the lower section. 

He needs his meal for tonight. He’s gone a couple of days without feeding, mainly because he just didn’t feel like the hunt. It can become tiresome having to look for a potential meal; find someone suitable, desperate enough, flirting with them, convince them to take him home, screw them into their bedsheets, and flee before they could even wake up. He would much rather come in the night when someone is sleeping, but that proves to be a lot of work, too. 

So he looks into the crowd, ignoring the otherworldly people who want to spend a night with an incubus. His charm isn’t even as strong on them, so he doesn’t understand the hype of it all, plus he can’t even feed as well on them, so its really just a waste of time. 

But then, Dabi locks eyes with you. You’re in the middle of the dance floor, body turned, chin held up, as you stare at him from where he leans on the railing above. His eyebrows jump up in surprise, before he neutralizes his expression quickly. You were staring at him with such an intense look, he wondered if you were somehow other-kin that he hadn’t seen before. But you seem human for the most part, with a devilish little grin and tits to die for in your small top. 

Okay, color him intrigued. 

You dance amongst the people, although you don’t seem to be under the same spell as the people that the fae are fucking with. Your moves are sultry, all smooth and sweet and dripping sin off of your swaying hips like a leaky faucet. Dabi feels hypnotized, in a sense, as he watches you, taking another sip from his drink as he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you. When you see his bright cerulean eyes drag up and down your body slowly, you grin even wider, and he fears he might see canines too sharp for a human mouth. But the imagery is gone before he can clock it, and he blames it on the potion that witch put in his drink. 

Dabi crooks his fingers at you, signaling for you to come to where he’s at, and you cock your head at him in response, a teasing little quirk of your eyebrow directed at him. He points to the stairs below, and feels a shiver rack up his spine with how you lazily drag your eyes from his face, to his hand, to the stairs, and back at his face. 

What the fuck is up with you, and why the fuck are you making him feel like this? Are you human? You look like it for the most part, but something about your allure makes him think that he’s in troubled waters and you’re the alligator ready to lock him tight inside your maw. 

Dabi blinks, and you’re gone. He doesn’t see you anywhere on the dance floor or the steps, and he wonders if he somehow scared you off. But then you tap at his shoulder blade, and it makes his head whip around faster than he thought it could. 

You’re even prettier up close. Your makeup is done up in such a way that your eyes look sharp, all shadowed depths creating dimensions that he feels like he might get lost in, your lips a deep plum color, your bottom lip just waiting to be bitten. 

“You ask me to come up here just to stare at me? I would’ve figured you had better game than this, Dabi.” Your voice is a low sultry tone, quiet despite the loud roars of the speakers in the club and—wait, how did you know his name? Dabi quirks a surprised eyebrow at you, pausing where he went to reach out for you, hand resting midair as he takes you in. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You couldn’t have been one of the humans he’s bedded once before; he would remember such an addicting face and voice if he did. You only shrug at him, saddling up to where he was leaning against the railing as now its your turn to overlook the people below. He watches you, follows your movements until your shoulders brush against each others, breath sucking in at the electrical zap that pulses through his body when his flesh skims yours. 

“You don’t know me, but I know you.” You flirt, winking at him and bumping him a little when he can’t take his eyes off of you. Dabi straightens out, clearing his throat a little as he tries to wrack his brain for every encounter he’s ever had where he could’ve seen you before. It’s rare someone knows him and he doesn’t know them in return, as being one who gets around due to his ‘line of work’. You baffle him, and you can tell how much the gears in his head are turning through the concentrated look that has fallen on his face. 

“Nice to formally meet you.” You tell him your name, reaching your hand out for Dabi to shake. He glances at it, and then your face, before he finally takes your hand in his own, squeezing the softness of your palm. He’d love to feel that wrapped around his dick tonight. 

“Tell me; what crazy fucking story have you heard about me to know me?” Dabi asks you, still holding onto your hand, now rubbing the backs of your knuckles with his thumb. Through the contact, he can start to release his pheromones, the shit that drives you humans crazy. While you won’t be able to smell it as much in the heady atmosphere of the club, it’ll sink into your skin, glide through your system until you feel high on the attention from him. And then after that—you’ll be wrapped around his finger and bouncing on his dick in no time. 

You go on speaking to each other for a while, flirtatious banter being exchanged between the two of you. You get closer throughout the night, from Dabi caressing your hand, to your own grazing the hair at his nape, to his chest pressed against yours, to your thigh straddling one of his as you press against each other. He thinks his charm has worked finally, if that hazy look in your eyes has anything to say about it. 

“Wanna get outta here?” Dabi asks you, his head tilted toward your own, his nose brushing against yours. Both of your arms are wrapped around his neck as you slowly sway to the beat, your hips grinding occasionally on his knee slotted in between your thighs. You nod, biting at your bottom lip, the lipstick you have on seemingly never budging and he makes it his mission tonight to smear it all over your face with his thumb and tip. 

“My place or yours?” You whisper to the air between your mouths, his hovering over yours, teasingly so. Dabi grins at that, warm hands squeezing once, twice at your hips. 

“Whatever’s closer.”

..

You come stumbling into your loft before you know it, clothes flying every which way. His boots are kicked off, and you still have a heel resting haphazardly on your ankle. His shirt rides up to his collarbones, and yours is somewhere left in a trail on the floor. You two can’t even make it to your bed, falling on the couch as Dabi pulls you on top of him, his hands gravitating instantly to your ass. He kneads the flesh in his hands, groaning under his breath when you start to rock your hips to no rhythm in particular, gasping inside of his mouth. 

You’re so intoxicating, so addicting, Dabi almost forgets that he’s the one in charge, that you’re the one under his spell, and not the other way around. It’s hard to remember that though, when his head starts to feel foggy and his limbs start to get too loose for him to not panic. 

Did you drug him? Even if you did, it would’ve burned through his body quicker than it would’ve dissolved in his drink. So why does he feel like this? Why does he feel like he’s the one under his own charm, like he’s a desperate bitch in heat that just wants to cum?

“What did you do to me?” Dabi asks groggily, laying his head down on a throw pillow behind him, disconnecting from your sweet mouth as he groans. He squeezes his eyes shut, starting to freak out internally, as an evil little giggle from you starts to float around the room. He doesn’t see the change happening in front of him, right on his lap, and only snaps his eyes open when your tone is way too devilish than any human should be. 

“Oh, little fledgeling, you have so much learning to do.” You purr to him, grinning, waving at him with sharp, black tipped, taloned fingers. 

What. The. Absolute Fuck?

“You’re a—a succubus?” Dabi asks, groaning again and clutching his sides when something pulses through him, something so strong and unwavering, that he has to shift his hips around to make sure he didn’t just cum on himself untouched. Your laugh floats throughout the room as you start rocking your hips against his, ignoring his almost pained groaned as you tilt your head back. 

“I’m a greater succubus, little fledgeling. Older than you could even comprehend.” You moan sweetly, taloned fingers starting to massage your tits from overtop your lacy bra. Dabi can only sit back and watch, dazed and confused and entirely too turned on to function as he takes all of you in. 

Your smile is wide, canines sharp and wicked where they rest just a few centimeter down from your bottom lip. Your irises an unnatural crimson, like stained blood, black horns twisting and twirling from your temples, tipped a dark purple like the stain on your lips. Your skin seems to have some glow underneath, a pulsing rhythm that correlates with the way you grind your hips into his, wings that span as wide as the room flapping and twitching with every little hiccuped gasp that comes up from his throat. They’re leathery and dark, just like the swishing, evil little forked tail that shoots out in front of Dabi’s nose, only to slyly trace the outline of his face, almost lovingly. 

You’re a sight that he’s never witnessed before, and for some reason, he feels blessed to have fallen under the trap of a greater succubus. 

“Why so shy now?” You ask him with a pout, leaning forward until your breast rests against his chest, nose to nose with him, your tail now rubbing the hairs on his eyebrows. Dabi sucks in a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure, the control he never actually had, and swallows thickly. 

“How did you disguise yourself so well?” He mutters, biting back a moan when you suck on the sensitive part under his jaw, hips still a slow rock on top of him. “We can always tell when someone is—when another one of us are—”

His brain is completely fried at the moment. Finds it hard to think, see, hear, and breathe with the way you tongue and nibble at his neck, with the way you put more pressure down on his pelvis with your own weight. He can feel his cock spurt against his thigh, fears he might cum without even directly touching you—but this was why he could never sleep with another succubus, especially not a greater one. 

You things were downright heathens, all tantalizing, all sweet and devilish little smiles, luring people in until you caught them with the honeyed trap between your thighs. But you—you were different. You were sin in and of itself, and Dabi doesn’t think that he could ever be a match for you. 

“That’s the power of being greater. I can disguise myself from anyone that I please, and I wanted to have just a bit of fun with my meal first.” He can hear the bite in your voice, the eery laughter bubbling up from your throat as you trace sharp canines against the flesh of his throat, threatening to bite. Dabi feels himself swallowing thickly before he can stop it, and you outright laugh at him as you sit up. 

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and let me eat you?” You ask him breathily, tracing a sharp talon up his chest, grinning when he hisses at the trail of black blood you leave on his torso. Dabi glances at the trail, before meeting your blood red eyes, licking his lips as he nods slowly, gripping your hips tightly in his hands. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Dabi mutters to you, eyes now solely focused on the way your skirt rides up as you sit in his lap. But you demand his full and complete attention, talons gripping his cheeks to make him look you in the eye, as the other hand trails ribbons of black blood down the other side of his stomach. 

“Beg for it.” You demand of him, licking sweetly at the seam of his mouth and pulling away when his tongue darts out to greet yours. “Beg for me to fuck you, fledgeling.”

Dabi downright moans at the tone, at the authority laying in your voice. He’s always been the one in charge, always took control with the little humans he would charm. But you, you’re all power and control and commandment, and he can’t help but fall pray to a demon older than his own ancestors. 

“Fuck me.” Dabi spits at you, letting his own claws extend as he digs them into the skin of your thighs. You glance back at them, chuckling at the little beads of blood that he spills from you, gripping his face harder at the sheer audacity he could have with you. 

“Attitude, I see. A stubborn one.” You muse, turning his face to the side to lick up the blood that you’ve squeezed out from his cheek under your talon. Dabi hisses at the contact, and you can smell his pheromones trying to take over the aroma in the room. How cute, he’s trying so hard to be in control. 

You couldn’t wait to ruin him. 

You pull back quickly, hands reaching down quickly to shred him of his jeans, a big pile of his clothes and your own making a mess of the couch and floor. Dabi can’t even keep up with how quickly you work, your tail flickering out to knick at his boxers, entirely too close to his dick when you expose him. He hisses, before holding his breath when the forked tip of it hovers menacingly over his mushroomed head, sitting up on his elbows as he gets ready to throw you off of him. 

“Scared?” You tease with a smile, watching how his low cerulean eyes narrow at you when your tail soothes over the precum dripping down his shaft, so fake innocent. You knick the side of your panties until they fall into a heap in his naked lap, grinning when his eyes immediately zone in on how your sticky lips split open when you sit on his shaft. 

“Does your pussy have teeth? That would scare me,” Dabi snips at you, his voice low as he grips your hips to start making you grind along his shaft, this time with no barriers in between. But you scoff at him, digging your nails into his hand until he releases you with a hiss, quickly maneuvering your body until your ass is in his face and his cock is in yours. 

“Shut up, and put my pussy in your mouth already.” You throw over your shoulder with a little huff, giving him no time to process the beauty in front of him before you lick a long stripe down from his tip to his balls. Dabi groans hoarsely, head thrown back as he holds onto your ass for dear life. 

“Y’don’t have to keep using your charm on me,” He mutters, damn near miserable with how hard his cock is throbbing in your warm hands. But you only chuckle at him, waving your ass in his face for him to get to work already, as you dip your tongue in his cockhole. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” You ask him in a hum, mouthing at his tip before you suck his mushroom head in your hot mouth. Dabi hisses, holding your cheeks open until he’s greeted by the pretty sight of your sticky lips and twitching hole and cute rim. His eyes go low as he sniffs in the pheromones that drip onto his chest, mingling with the blood that slowly evaporates from his skin, your essence dripping and mingling into his very being. 

“Because I already want you.” Dabi mutters, shoving his face between your cheeks and holding them closed until they swallow his head. He licks at you, feverishly, feeling your charm overtaking him more and more as he’s engulfed in where the scent is strongest. He can’t stop his hips from bucking up into your mouth as your smell surrounds him, licking doggishly at your cunt, making you moan high in your throat. 

“Yeah? Well I want you pliant and susceptible, like the easy little thing you are.” You tell him, reaching a hand back to shove his head even further between your cheeks, grinding back on his face as he starts slurping on your hole, determined to taste every thing slips from you. 

You sigh, ducking down to bob your head on his cock, taking him in easily, like you’ve been sucking cock all of your life. And in a sense, he guesses that you really have. Dabi pulls back for a breath, spitting on your cunt and thumbing it into the arousal that drips from your inner thighs, licking it all back up slowly. 

“Did you just call me a slut?” He grunts, grinding his cock deep into your throat, head falling back momentarily when he realizes that you don’t have a gag reflex. Most sex demons don’t, but he doesn’t sleep with them regularly, and you’re also greater, so it makes the experience all the more euphoric. 

“Well if the slut panties fit,” You tease him, reaching back to shove his face back between your cheeks when you realize that he’s had enough air. Dabi doesn’t complain though, but he does whimper when you start fondling his balls in your hand at the same time you swallow around his shaft, nose buried into the pubes there. 

Dabi suckles at your clit, feeling your hole throb against his skin, reaching a hand up to start gliding a bony finger inside of you. Your sultry moan vibrates around his cock, and it twitches so violently, that he fears it might jump straight from your mouth. But you keep him in, humming around him, soft, warm hands tugging and tugging at his balls until his toes curl and he can only find it in him to lap at your cunt like a dog. 

You’re messy, where you suck him off, all loud slurps and gulps and swallows, the sound of spit dirtying his pubes. He can hear the sticky sounds of your hands jerking off his shaft when you pull off, how your throat closes around him, how you pull his prince Albert piercing with your teeth gently, how your fingers rub at the seam of his balls. It feels like all too much, like he can’t keep up, like he might burst from the inside and spray your entire little loft in cum and black blood. 

Before Dabi can even register that he’s coming, you pull your mouth off of him, moving around too quick for him to catch, and he damn near yelps when he feels another, tighter heat engulfing him. He struggles to peel his eyes open, mouth dropped lewdly at the sight of you riding him reverse cowgirl style while he still cums from you sucking him off. He’s too sensitive, and you’re too tight, and too mean, with how you look over your winged shoulder and laugh maniacally at the pitiful and pained expression on his face. 

“Aww, poor little fledgeling can’t keep up? How fucking pathetic.” You bite at him, hips and ass dropping quickly as you ride him. Dabi tries his damndest to keep up, to slow you down with the pumping of his pheromones, but at the moment, he can’t even tell up from down. Can only lay there as you take him, fuck him the way you said you would, tight and hot cunt clenching down around him with every drop of your hips. 

“This dick only good for little humans, huh? Can’t hang with a succubus, now can you, baby?” You tease, grinning, one hand on your lower back as you fuck yourself down on him, moaning when the pierced head of his cock grazes something soft inside of you. You press down on your lower stomach where you feel him, eyes fluttering shut as you take him for your own pleasure. 

“F-Fuck, slow down s-some,” Dabi stutters uncharacteristically, teeth grit as he can feel his own canines starting to protrude, losing all sense of stability as your cunt clamps down tight around his dick. You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you? With your tail reaching around and under you to keep rubbing over his tightening balls, with your wings fluttering in his face, with your sharp talon reaching back to trail more blood down his bellybutton, pooling in his lap. It creates a wet slapping sound where you drop your hips, and the feeling of his cum and blood now staining your cunt and inner thighs only makes you howl in pleasure. 

“Keep up or shut the fuck up, fledgeling. This is all for me.” You growl at him, your playful energy suddenly gone as you glare at him over your shoulder. It shouldn’t make his cock throb the way it does, but he listens to you. Only because he wants to cum again and feel how tight you’ll get around him, his head hazy and filled only with thoughts of you riding him until he passes out on your couch. 

Dabi does as told, clamping his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggles with keeping up with you. He can only hold onto your hips, and hope that you cum first this time, because he doesn’t think he can handle you still going after he’s cum for the second time. 

Luck seems to be on his side though, as he feels his balls tightening once more, but you start to lose your rhythm, hips stuttering against his, a wet kissing sound every time you drop down. Dabi picks up where you seem to slip off, hands clamped tight around your hips as he starts thrusting up into you, watching the bounce of your ass and how your tail doesn’t know what to do with itself at the height of your pleasure. 

“Fuck me, just like that, baby, just like that. Make me cum on this dick, cmon.” You growl through gritted teeth, eyes clamped shut as you throw your head back, voice staccato and a low growl. Dabi clenches his jaw, focused purely on bringing you over the edge as his orgasm creeps up closer in his lower belly. He reaches around your hip, strumming quickly and messily at your clit, hearing you whimper out before you start clamping down tight around him. 

“Shit!” You yelp, body jerking as you orgasm, cunt suffocating his cock as you keep riding him through the throes of pleasure. Dabi unclenches his jaw, canines scraping his chin as he growls at the feeling, his orgasm not too far behind as he keeps fucking you through it. He stills when the first rope of cum spurts inside of you, back arching off of the couch when evil little you moans and starts rubbing at his balls with every twitch of them. 

“That’s right, little fledgeling. Fill me up, just like that, doing so well,” the praise you sing to him gets to his head as you keep grinding on his lap and rubbing at his balls. He thinks he might’ve cum dry at some point, his cock kicking inside of you despite not feeling any extra leaking from his tip. His eyes are screwed shut, his body pulled taut, finally collapsing into a heap on the couch when you stop riding and fondling him. 

Dabi swears he hears you say something about being knocked up with little incubus and succubus babies now thanks to him, but he’s out like a light before the words can even register in his head. 

…

When Dabi wakes up the next morning, he thinks that it might’ve all been a dream, that his sins are finally starting to catch up with him. But you’re standing in the kitchen across the open layout of your loft, in nothing but a pair of panties, your wings and horns and tail still on display and just as grand as he remembers. He groans, head falling back onto the pillow he slept on, as you perk up at the sound of him. 

“Good morning, little fledgeling.” You singsong, pulling out a few things from the fridge as you smile in his direction when he pokes his bedhead up from over the back of the couch. He looks so adorable like that, you think. 

“Breakfast will be ready in twenty.��� You tell him, bringing flame underneath the pan in front of you with a snap of your finger. Dabi squints at you, frowning, as he checks the clock on your kitchen wall that’s framed by a black cat. Hm, cute. 

“I’m not hungry, and plus, I should be getting out of here.” Dabi groans, standing, uncaring of his naked state as you obviously don’t either. You both glance at each others bodies, before you turn from him, tutting under your breath. 

“I don’t think so.” You declare, scrambling the eggs before you, speaking up when Dabi opens his mouth to protest. “You’re going to stay here and eat, because you need your energy.” At that, he quirks a brow, strolling leisurely to you as he scratches his stomach, wrapping a finger around your curious tail when he gets close enough. 

“Energy for what?” He asks, grunting in surprise when your tail suddenly pulls him in, his front against your back as you look at him from over your shoulder with a devilish smile that makes his cock twitch against your ass. 

“Round two.” You say simply with a shrug before going back to the eggs. Dabi can only blink, before he shrugs with a nod. 

“Round two doesn’t sound bad at all.” 

[ejaydoeshisbest]

Chapter 4

"This is my favorite spot," you said, as you led me to the cave. It was like a mythical sea beast about to swallow us whole. Back in the city, we avoided places like these, unless you were a stupid teenager hiding from the world. They were always ready to erupt with the angst they bided in their bellies. Or you sought these places when you felt you were lonelier out there in the world and wanted solace.

There was a claw in my chest, pulling me from going with you, but you seemed to be the good sort. Maybe it was how sure you were as you held your net on one hand, and with another hand still loose on my arm. I hadn’t realized that I was letting you guide me all the way here. My eyes scanned the spot where your fingers curled around my bony wrist. I was fair-skinned compared to your tan. But a childhood under the sun did not hide the subtle scars running along your arm.

They were marks of adventures from growing up here, I knew. My classmates boasted their grazes and scabs as if they were prizes won from scuffling in the playground. Yours must be a daily, natural thing. I have a feeling you will earn more for days and months and years to come. I couldn’t help looking at one particular spot near your neck, though. It looked different from the others.

I was still not moving. You were patient with me. “What are you thinking of?” 

“That there may be a giant squid or octopus about to grab us and take us into its lair.”

You chuckled. It was the first time I made someone chuckle. “Ha! I wish. Then nobody would come to bother our waters, and they’ll leave this place alone.” You tugged at my arm. “There’s nothing inside but smooth rocks and more water. You’ll like it. I’ll show you.”

You were the type of boy who smiled more often than frowned, I imagined. When I was younger, my classmates all teased me about being the most sensitive amongst them all; a shy plant drooping at the slightest touch of insult. Our advisor was exasperated every time I hid in the corner and cried. They all pushed me to bear the taunts because that was how I got tougher, they said. I thought that was how I simply survived; to be reduced to a role for all my own childhood and even beyond: a butt for all the sharp, pointed jokes. So maybe that was why I nodded and followed you inside. You led me again and gripped my arm tighter, and I felt my ears drown in the waves as the darkness covered my eyes.

It still felt like we were sliding down the mouth of a beast. I told you as much, and you smiled and squeezed my arm back for reassurance. There was a moist, cool breeze moving past us; salt air collected from the sea.

“To be honest,” you began, voice echoing in the pauses between the waves, “I pulled you from the sea because you looked like you were about to jump in. And you have on a nice clean shirt, too. I'm not sure how easy it is to wash stuff out of that kind of white.” Your practicality tickled me. I smiled in the dark. “But seeing as how you’re shaking now, maybe you wouldn’t have dared after all.” He shrugged. “Still, your face…” and then you trailed off.

“My face?” I caught my breath when our bare feet stepped on soft weeds. I thought it was a tongue sliding between us. My toes gripped them so I wouldn’t slip.

"I kind of get the feeling that I've seen you somewhere before,” you said. We stopped, and I heard steady droplets falling from all around us. You turned towards me, close enough so that I could see the whites of your eyes. “But, you're a new face. And, well, not many people here wear the kind of clothes you’re wearing. Are you from the mainland? Are you from the city? Is that where your home is?"

A simple question that seemed to stump me in the moment. Should I nod yes, that I came from the city since that is where I stayed, even though I didn’t actually belong there? I didn’t call that place my home. We lived in a silent apartment with two bedrooms. My father’s bed is bigger but emptier. I only see Papa for two hours each night and an hour in the morning when he walks me to school.

Should I tell you that I had once lived here? That the trees here witnessed my wailings and tantrums? But that was a memory long gone. I am still trying to remember who my lola is though my heart insists that I already know her. There are notes in the air that I cannot hear; a deaf, distant siren lamenting the sweetness of my lost time with her.

“It’s okay if you won’t tell me. I understand.” Your voice was so calm it moved me. “You won’t have to say a word if you don’t want to. You can think whatever you can think here, and feel whatever you feel.” There was a shy smile on your face. “I’d rather you here than in the sea where the waves can take you.”

Then you jumped again and I thought for a second you would leave me here alone and swim away. But there you were a couple of steps away from me. You dropped your questions as if it was nothing but one of the droplets of water that dispersed in the dark. You did a little twirl and splashed your feet in invisible water. You had dropped the net beside me, and now you were reaching your hand out again and nodding at me to come join you.

Whatever was pulling me back, the friendly pull of your smile was stronger. I shivered when I stepped into the pool of cool water and you laughed at the face I made. It felt like I was intruding on a secret, but you grabbed both of my wrists this time, your thumb on my bone, and led me gently toward the middle of this pool, the water engulfing my feet. I was like a babe trusting his guardian not to let him sink.

“It doesn’t go any deeper,” you reassure me. “You’re safe. Here, we hid a lantern between the rocks over there.” You let go of my arm as you ducked into the dark. For a moment, there were only shadows and outlines, and then the suddenness of light struck my eyes. I squinted to see you holding a lantern in your hand.

There was a flat stone in the middle of this pool. You placed the lantern on top; how you lighted it with matchsticks in this damp place was beyond me.

The light showed the charm of this cave. To some, it would all be simply smooth stones and a wide shallow pool at the center. There were no words to describe why this was your favorite place. I only felt it. The warm glow of the lantern reminded me of stories told under thick, soft blankets. Whispers about a prince off on his journey. But when I saw that the droplets of water came from a high ceiling with rocks reaching down, I thought they looked like teeth about to close in on us.

Our shadows were plastered on a smooth wall. Yours was a giant near the light source, looking down at me. Your shadow made a motion to pat my head. I did laugh a little then, when you said, “There, there.”

You left the lantern on the stone tablet and weaved around the columns of stones to show me how safe it was. I watched you walk around me, and I stilled. I allowed the sounds of distant waves, occasional breeze, and loud water steps to fill my ears.

“This cave will not swallow you,” you said as you approached. You stopped a couple of paces away. “You’re part of this world now. So long as you’re here and don’t make a mess of things, no monsters will come get you.”

“That sounds like a warning from an elder.”

You winked. “Worked for us even now. Some of the older kids don’t disturb shrines or groves here.” Your face changed, suddenly. You sighed. “Wish I could say the same with the greedy bunch throwing dynamites in some parts of the beach here, and those cutting down trees in the mountains. I wish they'd be the ones swallowed by sea monsters.” 

Even if there was an edge to your voice, there was still a hint of hope. A touch of jest. I did not know what to do, and I was afraid to ask, so of all the silliest things I could have done, I stepped closer towards you, the water sloshing around your feet. I slowly raised my hand to make the shape of a fish, swimming around freely.

“I saw wings on a fish when I came here. Out there in the sea. They had the sun in their scales. Maybe they wanted to flee from the group you mentioned.” And then I dared to say more because you said that I could say anything I wanted. Words leaped from my tongue faster than I could cage them. “I wish I could be like them. The flying fish. To have gills and scales so that I could go into the quiet depths of the ocean when sometimes the wind is too harsh, and to go deeper into where corals sprout when there are storms. And if I got tired of the sea, or saw that the sun was kind, I would fly whenever and wherever I pleased. And it wouldn’t matter if everyone looked and pointed at me. And I wouldn’t listen if they told me to choose between being a fish or a bird or to stay in the water or be with the wind. I’d simply fly or swim away to my own peace, at my own pace.”

I quickly dropped my hand when your shadow did not move. It had no eyes, but I could feel the weight of its stare. The chill set in and I knew that I’d done something wrong and you would look at me the same way all the others looked at me and I braced myself for when you would push me away and run to get your lantern, leaving me here alone in the pool. I was afraid to look at your face.

“My name is Jiro,” you said as you turned towards me. The light hugged one side of your face as shadows clung to another.

A moment of stunned confusion passed before my weak hands pointed to my chest, where my heart was beating. “Mikha. Short for Mikhael.”

My fears melted away when you clasped my shoulder and told me how nice it was that you spotted me rooted in the sand. It was like my heart caught the rhythm of the waves while floating in this still pool.

I told you that I didn’t talk much, and I didn’t know what to talk about anyway, and by the way your eyes glanced to the side, I could tell that you were unsure to pry me open, brave as you were. So, you embarrassed yourself with stories of your adventures; how you caught a slimy fish that stank your hands for half a day, and how you collected hermit crabs because you thought they were drowning. The steady sounds of both droplets and surf went on as your hands moved with the tempo of your stories, morphing into shapes that wiggled and darted.

You coaxed me just a bit. “They say you can tell most things to a stranger. If anything is bothering you, you can let it out here with me.” You gestured to the cave. “Or you can let it out here. You can talk to your shadow if you want.”

A cave that holds secrets. Back in the city, people vandalized places like these. They mark them as if they were their territory with spray paints. They can’t bear leaving something so empty without so much as marking them with vulgarity.

It did seem easier talking to you. I never got more than a few sentences out to my classmates when we were all new to each other. After they found out I was boring and labeled me as the weird harmless alien, I didn’t feel the need to talk at all. A fitting label: ALIEN. They were speaking in a language I did not understand, talking about things in the world I had no interest in or knowledge about. They talked about cars and watches and cartoons, these kids who have whiter, cleaner clothes than I could ever wear, washed by maids or old distant aunts.

I have never encountered anyone like you who takes someone to their favorite spot on a whim. If only there were ten of you in our school, then it would be a brighter place.

I opened my mouth, and I told you about the games I liked and the books I read. I told you I liked ube ice cream the most and that I would like to learn how to swim, too.

Our stories filled the empty cave. Our chuckles mingled. It was like your favorite place was welcoming me too when I heard my voice bounce off its walls. Maybe I would hear myself when I come back here. Once or twice our hands collided as snippets of our different lives played out through shadow.

It was easy with you. There was a naturalness to it, how my words connected with yours, like a tail of a kite or two rivers joining, or like thread tied to thread.

Then you hopped behind me and our shadows on the wall merged. You told me to stay still as your hands waved behind me, conjuring a person with wings, then with tails, then with four arms that flexed and two heads that laughed.

When we looked at each other, that was when I pulled away. Because just as I was about to be familiar with the ease of your smile and the calm way you guided me... just as I was about to return your smile with my own under the lantern’s soft glare, the shadow from half your face reached towards me, and it threatened to erase all of your features if I didn’t step away at that moment and leave you alone.

It said that this moment was pleasant, but it will never be mine. After the exchanging of stories, there will be no new ones together. You will be gone and I will be alone once more. You will go back to your adventures hunting crabs and fish. The tenderness of the sea will hold you and I do not know what will happen to me. You will dive where I cannot reach you, just like my mother has done to us.

We are strangers, as you said. Your kindness may be true tonight, but will it remain so when the daylight reveals me for who I truly am? The night has some mystery in bringing people together, I’ve heard it said. What would happen if that spell broke and all you would see under the sun’s glare was a weird alien crawling from the deep?

My mouth shut like a clam disturbed and I felt the pool pulling my legs to the bottom where I could not resurface.

You called my name. I did not turn around. The waves were in my ears again. I saw bubbles escaping through my nose and mouth. I needed to breathe. You twisted my shoulders so that I faced you. I told you that I thought I was drowning. You told me I was fine. I looked at the steady brown of your eyes.

“I don’t want to be alone,” I said, and in shame, I turned away. I wanted to bury my head between the rocks.

“You’re not alone. You have me here. This whole place is beautiful, you can count on almost anyone to help you if you’ll allow them.”

You held my gaze. I let you help me up. The droplets falling from the ceiling returned. The pool was shallow.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

You shook your head. You looked thoughtful. “You looked like how I was when I first started swimming. I was so scared of the sea before, which sucks when your whole life is near the beach. So, people started teaching me how to befriend the waves.”

“You were afraid?” My voice was again small.

“At the start, sure I was. I mean, even now I wouldn't test the waters at night.” You shrugged and showed your hands. “But how will you learn if you don’t at least try to face your fears? It’s either that or be afraid of the waters forever and sink.”

“And now look at you. You’re practically made for the sea,” I said.

You chuckled. “I think that nobody’s made to be anything. I think we have to try and discover what we like and keep doing what makes us good people. That’s what Nanay Gloria says, anyway.”

I was about to smile at your words when you mentioned the name. It couldn’t be... there were many Nanay Glorias everywhere, it’s a common enough name for their generation.

“You don’t mean—?” I began to say before you cut me off.

“You’ll love her. Everyone in the community does. She’s actually waiting for her grandson today. Could not shut up about him for a week. Wish I could have met him today.”

I blinked. “You just did.”

I didn’t think you could get any livelier, but something about what I said pulled all your limbs up as if a string drew you upwards. Your eyes lit up and you raised your arms, about to spill another story. I was laughing, eager to listen to what you have to say. Maybe I could remember my lola better through you. But footsteps from outside closed your mouth. We turned towards the opening of the cave.

Papa emerged from the darkness and saw us. Your arms were still reaching towards the cavern ceiling. I was slumped against a boulder, my feet circling in the pool. We all looked at each other, surprised, friendly, confused.

“Uh, hello,” my father began. He’s been looking for me, everywhere. I did not realize that time had passed inside these walls.

I stood. “Papa, this is Jiro.”

On the way back, we told each other what happened, retracing our steps in the sand. Papa told me it was good sense that we walked where the waves didn’t wash up our footprints.

Lola was looking over the beach. She waved at all of us; her frown disappeared as soon as she saw you with me. She embraced you like she did me. You hugged her back as if you were lying down in a patch of soft meadow grass. You looked more like her grandson than I did, all smiles and warmth.

“Good,” Lola said as she looked down at both of us. “You sure know how to pick your friends. Jiro is a good kid.” You beamed. Then lola brought her hands to her hips and added, “But this one hasn’t been visiting me as lately.”

You raised your hands up. “The fish are biting, Nanay! And you’re busy too with the festival of flowers.”

I felt my father’s hand on one shoulder, and Lola’s on another. Yours was there just a while ago. We were about to go home and you were standing still, the waves rolling behind you. We looked at each other, beamed, and shyly you trailed your foot across the sand. I waved at you, and you waved back. As we headed towards the home I do not remember, I thought you told the wind to whisper in my ear: come back tomorrow. I must have imagined it. I would like to, though.

Tomorrow, maybe. Then maybe the rest of the days while this alien skin of mine roams this island.

[i-cant-sing]

Promise: Yandere Godfather Hawks x Todoroki reader

This is a side story takes place in the YRHR series, after part 1, when the reader returns home, blind.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Y/n... Come on, wake up. Its 9 already." You heard him say, feeling the bed dip as he sat on it, gently touching the back of your shoulder. "Aren't you hungry? Mom's making your favourite."

When you gave no response, Shotou pulled the covers away from your face, his brows furrowing at the bandages around your eyes that had loosened up. You had did that, clawing at the meticulously tight knot Natsuo had done; you didn't like how it settled on your eyes.

"You're awake, right?" The only answer he got was you turning your cheek further away from him when he tried to caress it. Shotou didn't like your silence and he missed it when you used to ramble about almost anything to him. He missed when you were happy.

The door bell rang.

Shotou looked at his watch confused. Wasn't Natsuo supposed to come around at 11? He could hear Enji walking to the main door, and after a few seconds of silence, he heard footsteps coming towards your room. But then he heard some scuffling, and people talking- he recognised Enji's and Dabi's voices, his brother's getting louder by the second.

"I'll check who's there. Stay."

Stay? You would've rolled your eyes if, you know, you still had them.

A few more minutes passed and you could hear Dabi arguing with someone, and you think that Shotou is trying to calm him down. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, you got up from the bed. For the past whole month, Shotou would come to wake you up everyday, carrying you in his arms to the bathroom, never letting you walk on your own, claiming "you'll get hurt".

Idiot.

Taking one small step at a time, you stretched your arms out trying to reach the wall. Once you felt the cold, smooth surface, you used it to guide you towards the door.

No matter what you did, or how many times you told them to back off, that you can do this on your own, they wouldn't let you. Hell, you were pretty sure that if they could, they would breathe for you too. As if trying to instil in your mind that you're helpless without them, incapable of making your own decisions.

I'll show them how fucking capable I am.

After stubbing your toe only once, you finally reached the door, your hand gripping the metal knob. You placed your ear on the door, trying to figure out who and where everyone is standing. The corridor seemed empty and you think everyone is downstairs.

Opening the door, you used another wall to guide you towards the stairs. You hoped Shotou doesn't see you; he'd throw a hissy fit at you attempting to walk down the stairs.

As you took one careful step at a time, you heard the commotion grow louder. You could hear Dabi yelling profanities at the other person, certainly not Enji because Rei or Fuyumi would've stepped in by now to stop him. You used to stop him too, but ever since what happened, you don't really care anymore.

"Why the fuck are you even here?! She doesn't fucking want to see you!"

"Dabi-!"

"And who is gonna stop me? You? I'd be happy to knock you down on your ass- its about goddamn time!"

"Hawks!"

Hawks?

Hawks.

Hawks!

You almost stumbled down the last few steps, but you needed to know- was he, was he really here?

"K-Keigo?"

You heard his wings flap before you felt him, the wind gushed at your body strongly, making you lose your balance. But muscular arms wrapped around you before you could fall, and the winged hero lifted you up and spun you around, making you burst into laughter.

Rei was the first one to cry.

You laughed.

Not a bitter, sarcastic one.

A genuinely happy laugh.

And she missed her baby's laugh so much.

Dabi's eyes widened slightly. His heart clenching up a bit as he realised how he missed that beaming look on your face. He realised how fucking naive you were, how you were his little sister that he needed to protect.

Shotou felt envy. Why- why didn't you laugh like that with him? Why didn't you laugh for him? Was he... not a good brother?

Fuyumi actually rushed out of the kitchen when she heard you, her hands coming up to her mouth to suppress the sob that was building up. Too long. It had been too long since you were happy.

Natsuo smiled. He smiled as he saw you chortle when the hero's feathers tickled your cheek. He wished you would smile more often.

Enji's breath hitched as he saw you chuckle into Hawk's shoulder. It was so natural, so lively, so radiant. He had been dying to hear that sweet sound again.

Your heart was beating fast and your stomach was doing somersaults as you felt the air rushing through your hair and cooling on to your neck, the soft feathers brushing across your skin.

He really was here.

But so were they.

And you could feel their eyes on you.

Keigo frowned when he saw you curl yourself into him, as if trying to bury yourself into his chest. When he looked around, he saw them glaring and that's when he puffed out his wings before curling them around you; shielding you.

"I'll be spending time with my goddaughter. Do not disturb us." And with that, Hawks flew you up to your room, locking the door before they could sat anything. He could hear Dabi arguing, but he trusted Enji to handle him.

He set you on your bed, chuckling as you didn't let go of his collar.

"Its okay, dove. I'm here, now- ow!" You cut him off by punching his arm.

"Where were you?!"

"In your heart- ow! Stop hitting me!" He caught your wrists.

"You said you were gonna visit me at home! Its been a whole month-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry but believe me, I really was busy!" Sighing, he continued. "The hero commission sent me to Europe for a mission and things got a bit messy, so I got caught up."

Yanking your hands out of his grip, you scowled. "Would it have killed you to call?"

"I mean I wouldn't say kill, but I probably could've lost a limb or two-" He started laughing when when you began getting up to walk to the door.

Keigo wrapped his arms around you, smiling cheekily"Y/n- I'm sorry, I'm just kidding. Come back-"

"No, let go! I don't have time for your bullshit" He continued laughing, easily picking you up and dropping you back on your bed.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Come on, now. Stop being mad." You heard him shuffling. "Besides, I've got something for you!"

He dropped something in your lap. You picked an item, your hands feeling around it, trying to figure out what the rectangular shaped box was.

"Whats this?"

"Oh, here. Let me help you." He lifted the lid of the box and you were immediately hit by a familiar smell.

"Chocolate?"

He hummed in confirmation"Your favourite ones too! They were always sold out! Luckily, I was able to use my charm on the owner."

"Charm? Oh, you mean where you pull that ugly smirk and do that half lidded look with your eyes, and you think that you look hot but you actually just look creepy?"

"Yeah- hey!"

And then the next 3 hours were spent like that, Hawks telling you about Europe and the bad guys he caught, you telling him about the way your family had been treating you.

"They don't let me do anything, they don't give me any privacy! Its like- its like they want me to be a doll!" You gave an exasperated sigh. "They- they act like they are being so generous. Like it was somehow my fault that my eyes got fried!"

"Oh come on. They can't be that bad-"

"They are! So much worse than before. Look, I'm a grown up- I need my space too! You know what Shotou said when I asked him to get me a walking stick? He said I don't need one since he can carry me everywhere. Do you know how embarrassing it is to get carried to the toilet every single day? Do you?!"

"Well, no-"

"And then Fuyumi cuts up my food and spoon feeds me herself! I know I'm blind but its not like I'm gonna stuff the food up my nose or something!"

The hero snickered at that.

"And then Enji reads me these novels or the newspaper and he skips over the parts he thinks I'm too "young" or "immature" to understand! They even monitor what I listen to! Fuyumi or Shotou would be quick to change the channel if something above pg 10 comes on!" You ran a hand through your hair frustratedly. "I asked Enji to get me a Braille and the first few time he pretended like he didn't hear me, before finally saying that I don't need one!"

"Don't worry, I'll sneak in a Braille for dummies the next time I visit."

"Hey-! Wait... what do you mean "next time"?"

"Oh come on! I promise I'll come earlier next time. Maybe in like 2 weeks-"

"No."

"What-"

"No. I want to leave this place today. You promised."

"Y/n-"Keigo reached to place a hand on your shoulder but you pushed him off.

"You. Promised. You said you'll get me out of here when I leave the hospital" You inhaled deeply. "Well, guess what, Hawks? Its been a whole month."

"I know but you're not well enough-"

"I AM! If anything, staying here is harming me more!" Your tone was getting angrier. "You said- you said you would take me away from them."

"I can't do it right now. The hero commission needs me-"

"I need you! Or am I just not worth your time?"

"Please, dove- try to understand. How will I take care of you if I'm out at the agency?"He tried to pet your head but you smacked his hand away, snarling at him.

"You're a liar. A big fucking liar! Was this the plan all along? To give me hope that you'll save me, only to fucking crush it?!" The hero managed to dodge the box of chocolates you threw at him. "I don't need fucking chocolate or your stupid presents. I need to get out of this goddamn house!"

The hero began walking towards the door. "You're not thinking rationally- I'll- I'll leave." But before the hero could manage to take another step, you were leaping towards him, but since you couldn't see, you only managed to fall near his feet. When he grabbed your shoulders to help you up, you were quick to latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly.

"No- no! Don't go. Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Please, don't be mad. I swear I'll behave, just don't leave me here!" Your hold onto him was becoming painfully tight.

Keigo felt like someone was breaking his heart piece by piece as he looked at you. The way your body shook from your pitiful sobs, the way you held onto his jacket as if your life depended on it- he was forced to remember how vulnerable you looked the night he brought you back to the this house. The same night when you begged and begged him to fly you away, that you'll do anything as long as he didn't dropped you back at the Todoroki estate.

"Y/n- darling, love, listen to me. I promised you that I'll keep you save, didn't I? I promise I'll come back soon-"

"YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT SHE'S DONE TO ME! SHE BURNED MY FUCKING EYES HAWKS! I'M FUCKING BLIND! DO I NEED TO LOSE A LIMB FOR YOU TO GET ME OUT OF HERE?! DO I HAVE TO SUFFER FROM ANOTHER "ACCIDENT"?!"

Hawks knew that bitch Rei did this on purpose, he knew and it killed him that he couldn't save you from her. He wanted to tell you that he believed you, and he was preparing a place for you. But the hero knows your siblings were eavesdropping, right on the other side of the door.

He had to be careful and play the fool if he wanted to get you out of this hell hole.

"Y/n please-"

You shook your head repeatedly, pulling him closer to you as you shrieked at him. "No. NO! I wont let you go! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE WITHOUT ME! Keigo, I'm begging you! Take me with you, please! I'll die! I'll die! I'LL FUCKING DIE, KEIGO! PLEASE!"

Your loud screams had your siblings bursting through the door, obviously using a spare key. "Y/n, whats wrong-" You jumped away when they touched your shoulder, giving Hawks chance to slip away.

You instantly reached out for him, flailing your arms around to get a hold of him again. But the hero was already out the door and your siblings quickly pulled you back into their arms, shushing you, trying to calm you down.

But you were inconsolable. Thrashing around in Shotou's arms, you kept begging for Hawks to come back. "HAWKS COME BACK! LET ME GO! HAWKS, PLEASE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE!" It pained them to see you like this, so hysterical; Shotou and Fuyumi whispered sweet nothings but you payed them no mind. Natsuo knew you were going to hyperventilate soon, but he was more worried about you bursting a vessel in your head.

Thinking fast, he quickly brought up a tranquilliser- and the moment the sharp smell of the alcohol swab hit your nose, you were wrestling harder to get out Shotou's and Fuyumi's arms.

"Y/n, please calm down-"

"FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! KEIGO! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK- STOP! STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP!" You screamed louder than before when you felt her cold hands gripping your arm, holding it still so that your brother could administer the dose.

As the drug began taking effect, your thrashing slowed down before you finally slumped into Shotou's arms. The tranquilliser numbed the headache that was forming, and you felt Fuyumi use a tissue to wipe the snot and the spit off your face.

"I'll die... I'll die... And you won't be there. And I'll die..."

Hawks was in a trance like state as he watched Shotou tuck you under the covers. He wanted to use his sharp feathers to slice off that cold bitch's hand that brushed the hair out of your face, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your daunting screams rang through his ears; his chest felt like some was shoving a knife through it slowly as he played back the image of you trying to wring yourself free from their arms, one hand still reaching out for him. It took everything in him not to grab it and pull you away from those monsters, but he had to remind himself of the bigger picture.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the pyromaniac standing next to him until he spoke.

"This is all your fault."

Hawks looked at Dabi. His fault?

"You shouldn't have come here."

"She's my goddaughter-"

"Shut the fuck up." Dabi narrowed his eyes at the hero. "She's like this because you gave her false hope. Hope, that one day she'll get away from us. You and I both know that's not gonna happen." He sighed before continuing. "You call yourself a hero, but in reality, you're no better than us."

As Hawks turned to leave, not willing to let the villian get on his nerves, Dabi spoke again.

"Dont bother coming back. She won't forgive you. She'll never forget this betrayal."

Hurtful as they were, he knew the words he said were true.

Hawks was almost out the gates when he saw Enji sitting in the garden, looking at the koi pond. He should've left, should've flown away but there was something in Enji's eyes that had the winged hero walking towards him. He recognised the emotion as soon as he got close.

Sorrow.

Or was it guilt?

Perhaps a mixture of both.

"Endeavour, are you... alright?"

The number 1 hero looked away from the fish and blinked at him.

"Hawks? What are you still doing here?"

The blonde chuckled nervously. "I was just on my way out." He gazed at him. "Are you okay? You seem to be in deep thought."

Enji only stared at him. Taking his silence as the answer, Hawks turned to leave.

"Why did you come here today, Keigo?"

Keigo.

He suppressed the urge to shudder the way his name rolled off his tongue.

"She's my goddaughter too. Why? Do you think it was a bad decision to come?"

"No." Enji sighed. "I just- she hadn't laughed like that in a long time."

Hawks stood beside him. "She's still traumatised from the kitchen accident. Its understable-"

"No. She hadn't laughed like that for a long time, even before this happened." Enji's eyes moved towards the night sky. The stars were twinkling extra bright tonight. How he wished you could see it. "Before she lost her sight, she used to look out the window, her eyes searching sky." He gulped. "She was looking for you, Keigo. You- you made her happy, you make her laugh. I don't."

Hawks placed his hand on Enji's shoulder. "That's not true, Enji. You do make her happy. She loves you. She feels safe with you. She sees you as her protector."

"She does?"

He nodded. "Of course. If you want things to return to normal, you need to treat her normally too. Just- just talk to her. Sort out the issues and wash away whatever fears she has." Hawks wanted Enji to listen to you, to really listen to you and protect you from Rei. He could only hope that Enji understood what he meant.

Hawks was right, Enji realised. Whatever delusions you have of Rei wanting to hurt you on purpose, of being the "bad person", they can all be cleared up if he just talked to you. Ever since the incident, the family avoided talking to you about Rei or the events that had occurred that day.

If he just talked to you, things will return to normal. You'll become happy again.

"Thank you, Keigo."

Hawks only smiled in return. "I'll be leaving now."

"Okay. When will you visit again?"

"I'll be gone for longer now. The hero commission is sending me on another mission again."

"Oh. Safe travels, then."

As Hawks flew away, he began thinking about the house.

The house where he was going to take you to soon. He just needs to add a few finishing touches before he sets his plan in motion. The plan to rescue you, and eventually Enji, from those sadist that call themselves your family.

He will not let his dove get hurt again.

He'll save you this time.

He promises.

Thoughts?

Idk how this turned out, angst wasn't the plan initially. Guess I'll write godfather Hawks fluff for another day.

Anyways, now that this is done, I'll start working on RE 8 fic now.

[sukirichi]

acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson.  “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more.  Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.  

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress.  “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop ­— and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

[scuttling]

Trophy Husband

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,188 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Dry humping, Unprotected sex, a lil Daddy kink Summary: Requested by anon: “maybe some dad bod hotch smut? like where he’s newly retired and hasn’t been working out as much and the reader worships his body bc he’s been feeling a little insecure” I love some dad bod Hotch, so happy to fill this request! Link to A03 or read below!

“No, we’re not doing forced overtime again. If you want my team to put out more consults, then we need to hire more profilers.” You walk through your front door and into the kitchen, smiling when you see Aaron standing over the stove, holding a wooden spoon and stirring something that smells amazing. “With all due respect, I’m not concerned about the budget, sir; if my people are as valuable as you stated, then I expect them to be taken care of.”

Aaron looks back at you, wrinkles his nose, and you make a motion with your hands—blah, blah, blah—which makes him chuckle.

“I agree completely, sir. That’s a great idea. If you send down the requisitions tomorrow, I’ll start interviewing on Monday. No, thank you. Good night.” You lock your phone, set your bag on the stool closest to you, and sigh. “Was it this hard to get stuff done when you were the unit chief?”

“No, it’s definitely harder now, but you make it look easy. And sexy,” he says with a smirk, and you walk over to him; he offers a taste of what he’s making—it looks like paella, and your stomach rumbles—and you lean in to take a bite off of the spoon, looking up at him and flicking your tongue over your lips. His eyes get dark.

Even after ten years of marriage, he’s so easy to get going, it’s almost unfair.

“Delicious, daddy, thank you.” You stand up fully, and he turns back to the stove; your arms wrap easily around his waist, cheek pressed to the soft, worn t-shirt that covers his back. “How was your day? Are you still enjoying the life of a trophy husband?” He snorts, muscles tensing enough that you can feel it where you rest.

“Hardly.” He was in such a good mood a moment ago that this feels like a complete 180; profiler or not, you know your husband, and something’s on his mind. You tighten your embrace, and he shrugs you off a little, and that is practically unheard of. You stand, take a step back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t getting bored of retirement already, are you? It’s only been six months.” He sighs, shakes his head. You’re sure you look confused.

“No, retirement is fine; it’s great, actually, it’s not that.” Typical Aaron, always making you drag this shit out of him. For being so sweet and kind, he’s still not that great at being open, even though you make every effort to encourage it.

“What is it, sweetheart? Something is obviously bothering you; we should talk about it.” Another deep exhale, and he turns off the burner, moves the pan of food off of the heat, and turns to face you fully.

“I imagine you already know.” You shake your head, shrug, and he gestures to himself, to his body. You feel stupid, like there’s something you’re missing.

“Aaron, love of my life, I don’t have any idea what this means.” You mimic his previous motion, and he rolls his eyes, which you can’t stand, and he’s well aware of that. “You’ve got to give me more than that, or I can’t help.”

“You can’t help, it just… is.” He sighs, and his shoulders deflate. You move closer, to touch him, comfort him, but he takes a step back. “I know I’m not the ‘trophy husband’ you probably expected me to be. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

You do your best to put together these cryptic sentences, the hand gesture, and when realization finally dawns on you, you can’t help it: you laugh.

Aaron turns away, and you know that was shitty, feel instantly terrible, so you reach out to put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just… you don’t think you’re hot anymore?” He turns to face you, looking at you like he’s tired of your shenanigans, which… after this long, he should be plenty used to them, so the look does nothing for you.

“I’ve gotten… soft, I think that’s obvious.” At that, you smirk a little, move your hands to the button on his jeans.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything soft about you, Aaron. Why don’t you let me put your cock in my mouth, and we’ll check again.”

“You wanted me to talk, I’m talking.” His tone is a little admonishing, and you kind of deserve it, so you stop being horny for a second and take a deep breath.

“You’re right. Sorry. So… you’re exercising less, because obviously you don’t need to be as fit anymore, since you’re not working. Am I following?” He nods his head. “Okay, and you’re feeling… insecure about the way your body looks now, because of it.”

“Yes. Especially when you, Unit Chief Hotchner, are kicking ass and looking fucking delicious doing it, and then you have to come home to me.”

It’s like a switch is flipped in you, at those words. Oh hell no.

“Hold on here. I don’t have to come home to you, I get to come home to you; every night I do, it’s like a dream come true, and on the nights I don’t get to come home to you, I dream about it. I dream about being in your arms—strong arms, always, even if they’re less defined—and I dream about making love to you and fucking you and everything in between. You: not the Aaron of two months ago or six months ago or five years ago. You.”

He looks your face over—you’re getting fired up and you know it, and it turns him on and you also know that—and then the two of you come together for a deep, desperate kiss. Your hands fist in his hair, his roughly grab your ass, and when you pull back for air he turns you so you’re bent over the counter, searches for the zipper of your skirt.

“No!” He freezes, then steps back, and you stand up, flushed. “I’m sorry, not no—just, not here.” He blows out a breath, and you kiss him softly, sorry you scared him. “It’s just that… I want to lay you back on our bed, completely naked, and I want to put my mouth and my hands on you, everywhere. I want you to see what your body does to me, exactly as it is right now. I get that that might make you feel a little vulnerable, but will you let me?” You press your lips to his again, put your hands gently on his face. “Let me, baby.”

He nods, and you take his hand, take him to your bedroom. He’s visibly nervous, so you move his hands to your body, let him strip you naked first. He always takes pleasure in this, whether he is ripping the buttons off your favorite blouse or softly mouthing at your thighs while he drags your panties down your legs, and tonight is no exception.

“So beautiful, baby,” he murmurs as he finds that zip and drags it down, helping you step out of the skirt. You kick off your heels, and he unbuttons your top—carefully, tonight—then unhooks your bra, pulls you close and kisses your neck and chest so deliciously you almost forget what brought you here.

You lick your lips, shake yourself from the haze of submission you always feel when his mouth is at your throat, and your hands flick open the button of his jeans, tug down the zipper, guide his pants to the floor. He steps out of them, and you kiss his mouth.

Your hands move up, to the hem of his t-shirt, but you do nothing. He smirks, pulls it over his head, because he knows you love that hot guy way of pulling a t-shirt off with one hand, and he happens to be a master of it. You do your best not to drool.

“Mmm. You know exactly what I like, Aaron. There’s nobody in this world who could turn me on like you, who could get me off like you.” He licks his lips, and you get on your knees, running your hands down his body as you go. “Toes to nose, you are exactly who and what I want. Don’t ever forget that.”

You start low, press your lips to the tops of his feet, then his ankles, his calves, his knees. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but you keep moving up, slowly, until your hands find the waistband of his underwear and you pull them down. His cock springs up—this in particular is never a problem, no matter his age—and you kiss up his thighs and then rise to stand.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you lean up for a kiss, drop your panties. He grabs a fistful of your hair, takes another, rougher kiss, then releases you; you’re panting hard, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. God, he’s good. How could he ever doubt his sex appeal when he makes you this much of a horny, eager mess with just a kiss?

You guide him back to the bed because he’s too tall for you to reach everywhere standing up; you start at his right wrist, kiss your way to the crook of his elbow, over his biceps, to his shoulder. You trail your lips over his collarbone, his throat, pausing to nibble on his earlobes, to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“I love you so much, Aaron. You are and always will be perfect in my eyes. I barely even notice when you’re being a dick anymore,” you joke, and he laughs; steamy and sexy is really good, but it’s your favorite when he laughs.

You kiss down the other side of his neck, down his arm, but this time you bring his hand up and suck on his middle and ring fingers, taking them so deeply you can flick your tongue over his wedding ring. He groans, you groan, it’s really hot. Your pussy throbs.

“Fuck, baby.” You pull them out of your mouth with an innocent smile, and then straddle his legs, leaning forward to suck and bite kisses all over his stomach and hips, avoiding his cock altogether. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” he breathes, reaching for your hair, and you slide your arms up his chest, squeeze the muscles there that are softer, but still present, while you kiss wetly along his belly.

“Mmm,” you moan while you kiss, because you’re kind of… lined up tight against his thigh, and it feels really good.

You keep kissing, all over, sloppy, eager kisses, rubbing his chest and grinding against his thigh, and it’s a surprise to you both when you come, looking up at him with your mouth open and your nails digging into his skin.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh when you’re done—there’s no sugarcoating this—humping his leg, and he licks his lips, wraps his hands around your arms, and maneuvers you on onto your back, slides his cock easily inside you where you’re wet and warm. “Yes, Aaron.”

“Oh, baby. Fuck, I love you,” he groans, and he laces your fingers with his and tucks his face against your neck. You love when he gets like this, so desperate to come but so soft, so loving, and you squeeze him with your legs, push your body into his thrusts.

“Like that, honey, just like that,” you breathe, mouthing at his shoulder, your free hand clutching at his back. “Come inside me, daddy; pin me with your big body like you always do and come inside me. Love it, want it, need it.”

He moans into your throat, works his hips harder, faster, and you hold him when he comes, smoothing your palm over his skin. He looks down at you, and love shines in his eyes just like always; your heart melts a little. That’s something you’ll never get tired of seeing as long as you live.

He pulls out, replaces his cock with his fingers and brings you to orgasm again, still looking into your eyes, and he catches your last gasping moan with his lips.

You’re both tired after that, not as young as you used to be, and you pull him on top of your body again, a warm, reassuring weight; underneath him is your favorite place to be, always has been, always will be.

“Trophy husband,” you coo in his ear, scraping fingers through his hair. He chuckles softly, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Badass wife.”

“Mm hmm, and don’t you forget it.” After a couple minutes, your stomach rumbles, and Aaron climbs off of you, returns with the whole pan of paella, two spoons, and a bottle of white wine. “No glasses?” you ask, teasing, sitting up against the pillows, and he shakes his head, wrinkles his nose.

“Nah, I like it better this way. My lips where your lips have been.” He leans in for a soft, slow, sultry kiss, and you sigh when it’s over, lean your head against his shoulder, and smile.

❤️ Taglist: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix

[nastybuckybarnes]

Training Wheels  -  One

Pairing: Dark!Step-Brother!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader

Summary: Your stepbrother would do anything for you. And he’s more than happy to prove that over and over and over again until you believe him. No matter what it takes. 

Warnings: Language, Sexual Harassment, Smut, Manipulation, Loss of Virginity, Sex between Step-siblings, bit of a size kink, 

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: I have many parts of this planned but not written, and the taglist is open. Also, incase y’all forgot: I don’t talk politics on my blog. I’ve made it clear where I stand on certain things already and I want to keep my blog as an escape from reality for myself and others. 

A/n 2: I’m fucking tired so I’ll reply to asks and stuff probably tomorrow

!!!!THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT! 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

~*~

“Hey, did (Y/n) get a new skirt?” At the sound of your name being mentioned, Steve snaps his head up, following his best friend’s gaze until it finally lands on you.

You’re walking across the campus courtyard towards the two of them, a smile on your face as you talk animatedly with Natasha and Wanda.

Sure enough, a new mini skirt is decorating your pretty legs. It flows with the breeze, almost getting blown up enough to see your panties.

“Jesus, that kid’s got some legs,” Bucky says, eyes roaming over your figure. Steve shoves his friend’s shoulder, giving him a hard glare.

“That’s my fucking sister you’re talking about. What would Nat think if she heard that?” Bucky rolls his eyes, grinning as his favourite redhead blows him a kiss.

“God, what I wouldn’t do to have those legs wrapped around my head.” You shudder in disgust, yelping as a hard hand comes down on your ass.

“Hey!” You exclaim, turning around and covering your butt while looking at the man.

“C’mon sweetheart. What’d you expect when you’re dressed like that?”

Steve’s on his feet, rushing over to you as you glare at your assailant.

“Maybe some fucking decency?! Leave me alone! I’m not a fucking object, dick-wad.”

“Rumlow!” Upon hearing your step-brother’s voice, Rumlow takes a step back.

“C’mon Rogers! There’s no harm in playful flirting. You of all people should know that.” Steve glares at him, his arm coming protectively over your shoulders, pulling you against his side and further away from the man.

“Yeah, but there’s shit wrong with touching people when they don’t want to be fucking touched.” Brock rolls his eyes and saunters away, shooting you a wink over his shoulder.

“I had it handled,” you grumble, walking with Steve’s arm over your shoulders towards the tree where he and Bucky were sitting.

“Yeah, really looked like it. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” You roll your eyes and glare up at your step-brother.

“How do you expect me to defend myself if you jump in all the time?”

He shakes his head, a soft look on his face that has you dropping your guard for a moment.

“As long as I’m around, you shouldn’t have to defend yourself. That’s what I’m here for. I’m always gonna have your back, bunny. No matter what.” You smile at him, your heart warming at his words before Nat gets your attention.

You sit down next to her, Steve next to you with his arm still over your shoulders.

You and Wanda are quickly engaged in another conversation and Steve finds himself staring at you, a small smile on your face.

“You’re drooling, Steve,” Nat whispers, toes nudging his thigh. He glances over at the redhead and flips her off.

“C’mon. We should get going. I wanna beat the rush.” You nod at Steve, grabbing your bag and bidding your friends goodbye.

Bucky gives Steve a knowing look and the blond glares at his friend.

The two of you make your way to the parking lot together, him asking you about your day and you launching into a detailed description of everything you did.

As you’re heading to his car you pass by Brock and his group of friends. You quiet down immediately, slouching in on yourself.

Steve glares at the guys, his arm coming protectively around your waist as they ogle you.

You let out a big breath when you’re sitting in Steve’s car, groaning at the fact that you were harassed today.

“Why are guys stupid?” You ask, looking over at your step-brother as he starts driving.

“I wish I knew. You just gotta get lucky and find someone who’s mature and has respect for women, not a douchebag like Rumlow.” You nod, kicking your shoes off and putting your feet up on the dashboard.

“Hey, feet down.” You look over at him and stick your tongue out, keeping your feet up and wiggling your toes.

“What are you gonna do? You gonna make me?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and then one of his hands is on your thigh, squeezing the flesh hard and making you squirm, laughter bubbling out of you.

“Stop!” He doesn’t. If anything, it spurs him on and he tickles your thigh more.

“Feet down!” He shouts playfully, loving the sound of your laughter.

“Okay fine!” You finally pull your feet down and he smiles, fingers splaying on your bare thigh. He keeps his hand there for the rest of the drive, blood slowly moving south as he realizes what he's doing and the fact that you haven’t said anything about it.

It feels nice to have his hand on you. You hate that you like it but you do.

When you finally get home, your mom and his dad are pulling out of the driveway.

Steve rolls down his window and you unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing over his lap to stick your head out the window. Steve hits the brakes harder than intended and you fall forward, one hand bracing yourself on his thigh while your skirt flies up, your ass on full display.

“Jesus, Steve. You trying to kill me?” You ask before turning to the window.

“Where are you guys going?” You ask, confused. Your mom raises her eyebrows. “We’ve only been talking about our trip to Vegas for the past four months! We talked about it this morning too!” Realization hits you and you giggle. “Sorry! I hope you guys have fun! But not too much fun. One step-sibling is enough, I don’t need any more.” Steve’s dad laughs, shaking his head at you.

“You kids behave. Don’t throw any parties or anything. The neighbours know we’re gone so if you do anything we’ll know.”

“I don’t have enough friends to throw a party anyway. And Steve is a social outcast so you don’t need to worry about him.” Your mother gives you a look and you raise your eyebrows innocently.

“Be nice to your brother. We’ve gotta get going before we miss our flight. But I’ll talk to you when we land."

They start pulling away again and you stick your head further out the window, kneeling between Steve’s legs as he grabs your waist.

“He’s my Stepbrother!”

They drive off, your mom waving until they’re out of sight, and you sigh, climbing back into the car and looking at Steve.

His hands are still on your waist and he’s got a soft look in his eyes.

“Steve?” He hums, clenching his jaw as you shift on his lap to get comfortable, your thighs spreading as you straddle him.

“Do you think your dad’s gonna get my mom pregnant?” He groans, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“God no. I don’t even wanna think about that but even if they... you know... my dad got a vasectomy a while ago.” You nod, hands on his shoulders as you purse your lips.

His eyes are focused so intently on them that he doesn’t notice when you open the door.

“First person inside picks dinner! Loser has to pay!” You jump out of the car and sprint inside, leaving Steve stunned and horny in his car.

~*~

The two of you sit on the couch watching movies, Steve with his arm thrown over the back of the couch.

“Hey Steve... can I ask you something?” He looks over at you, nodding and waiting for you to ask whatever’s on your mind.

“Is... do... does...” You groan, shaking your head, beyond embarrassed with yourself.

“C’mon bunny. You can ask me anything and I won’t judge you. You know that.” One of his hands comes to your knee, rubbing gently.

You nod, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Do guys actually prefer when a girl is experienced? Does it... does it matter to them?” Whatever he thought you were going to ask... it certainly wasn’t this.

He raises his eyebrows and blows a breath out through his mouth.

“Some guys, yeah. I mean, it puts a lot of pressure on them to make sure your first time is good. Which is hard cause each girl cums differently and finds different things good so it’s hard to tell. Some guys like virgins but I think a lot like it if they aren’t a girl’s first just so they don’t have to live up to whatever expectations she may have.” He’s being honest with you and you value that, but it doesn’t exactly make you feel better about your situation.

You sit up and turn to him fully, a frown on your face.

“How do I find someone who’s willing to be my first so I can get it out of the way?” He inhales deeply, trying to take advantage of the situation in a way that won’t clue you into his true intentions. He wants you, but he wants you to think that he’s just helping you.

“You’ve gotta find someone you trust to do something like that, bunny. Someone who’s gonna be gentle with you because it’s gonna hurt a bit.” You frown, scooting closer and leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Where am I supposed to find someone who’s gonna be gentle with me like that? The only guys who even look at me are gross guys like Brock and I don't want someone like him to touch me.”

He brings one hand up to your head, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I mean... I think I could find someone who would be willing to help you out. Show you the ropes just so you’re not totally inexperienced,” he murmurs, eyes focused on you as you look up at him slowly.

“Who?” His eyes flash down to your lips then back up to your eyes and you inhale sharply, realizing what he’s implying.

He doesn’t give you a second to object before he leans down and presses his lips against yours, making you gasp. He takes advantage of your parted lips and lets his tongue explore your mouth.

It takes a moment but you give in, kissing him back. One of your hands finds his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands.

He shifts onto his side for a moment, hand grabbing your waist and pulling you forward until you’re straddling his lap.

The ball is in your court and you know you should stop but it feels so right. It’s something so unlike anything you’ve ever felt before and you wanna see where it will go. How it’ll feel to be touched by a man.

You finally pull away, panting hard with your eyes closed.

His hands grip your hips tightly and rock you forward, making you gasp as his hard length rubs against you through the material of your sweatpants.

“Steve wait,” you murmur, head falling back as he attacks your neck with kisses.

“Lemme teach you, Bunny. I’ll take good care of you, show you how it feels to be fucked properly. Please. I don’t wanna see you getting hurt by a guy who doesn’t care about your feelings. I’ll treat you so nice, Bunny, I swear.” His sweet words and the way he feels underneath you is enough to have you nodding.

He grins, one hand wrapping around your back as he quickly flips you onto your back. You gasp, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull you tight against him.

He grinds against you for a moment longer before slowly pressing kisses down your neck and chest. He pulls away for a moment, just long enough to tear your shirt clean off your body, your bra following soon after.

His mouth kisses your breasts, giving each nipple far more attention than you thought he would. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, lips parted and heavy breaths falling from your mouth as a new type of pleasure builds inside of you.

“You like that?” He asks, eyes dark as he gazes up at you. You nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he uses his thumb and index finger to tweak at your other nipple.

“Steve,” you whisper, arching your back and pushing your chest against his face. His kisses slowly move further down your body, lips leaving a wet trail over your stomach and past your navel.

His eyes are locked on yours as his fingers tug at the waistband of your sweatpants.

You raise your hips without hesitation, nervous but excited.

He’s your step-brother, and it’s wrong, but he’s so sweet to you. If there was one person on the planet who you trust to take your virginity and teach you about sex it’s him.

Your eyes fall closed, partly out of embarrassment as he lays between your naked legs, eyes on your centre.

He hoists your legs over his shoulders and, after making sure you’re eyes are closed, grabs your discarded panties and presses them to his nose. He takes a long inhale and groans, intoxicated by the scent of you.

He tucks them into his pocket then reaches over your hips.

His thumbs spread your folds and you want to close your legs, but he makes it impossible. His tongue darts out and licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit.

The sensation makes you jolt and Steve chuckles softly.

“Tell me what you like, Bunny. It won’t offend me. I wanna make you feel good.” You nod, grinding your teeth together and trying to clear the thoughts from your mind and focus on what he’s doing.

He finds your clit surprisingly easily, and you moan when he focuses his tongue on it.

“J-just like that... please...” He complies, working his tongue over the little bundle of nerves while two of his fingers slowly press into your heat.

You groan at the feeling, it being unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. His fingers fill you up more than ever, and he works them inside of you until he hits a spot that has you jolting up, right hand grabbing a handful of his hair.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, eyes screwed shut as he massages that spot inside of you.

It’s all too much, and in a few moments, you’re cumming all over his face and his fingers.

“Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Oh my god.” Steve’s eyes find your face and he nearly cums in his pants.

The look of pure pleasure on your features is something he wishes he could take a picture of.

You look so fucking pretty when you cum.

He gently works you through your orgasm, pulling away only when your thighs start trembling. You open your eyes after a few more moments only to find him seated between your legs, pink lips glistening as he sucks your nectar off of his fingers.

“Holy fuck,” you repeat, one hand coming to your chest as you slowly catch your breath.

He chuckles softly, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“C’mon. M’gonna fuck you on a bed, not on a couch.” He scoops you up in his arms and you wrap your legs around his waist, arms tightly wound around his neck as he carries you up the stairs to his bedroom.

It’s wrong. So fucking wrong, but it feels so good and you trust him so much.

You’re carefully laid on your back on his bed, the blankets cool against your hot skin. Steve kneels between your legs, hands resting on your hips while his eyes devour this image.

You bring your hands up to cover your chest, feeling nervous about being naked beneath him, but he shakes his head and gently takes your hands.

“Don’t hide from me, Bunny. You’re beautiful. Any man who gets to see you like this... is a fucking lucky one.” His eyes trace over your body, his words having lit a fire in his gut.

No other man is ever going to see you like this. He’ll make sure of that.

“C-can you take your clothes off? Please? I feel...” you trail off, embarrassed of both your nudity and your request.

“Of course, Bunny.” He leans back on his haunches and pulls his shirt over his head, giving you a glorious view of his rippling muscles.

Your stepbrother has an amazing body. That much you learned the very first time he took his shirt off to go swimming with you.

He climbs off the bed for a moment, just long enough to kick off his sweatpants and his boxers, and then he’s between your legs again.

You inhale sharply when your eyes find his cock, fear and arousal filling you.

“A-am I... do you want me to...” Your eyes don’t leave his length and he chuckles, one of his hands moving down to slowly stroke himself.

“I just want you to lay back and feel good, okay? It’s gonna hurt a bit, but you gotta relax. I’ll go slow.” You nod, hands instinctively coming to his shoulders as he scoots closer.

“If you’re really curious, I’ll teach you how to give head another day. But today is all about this.” The hot tip presses against your folds and you jump, wide eyes staring up at your step-brother.

“Now, when anyone else ever fucks you, make sure they wear a condom. But for your first time, I want you to get the full experience. It’ll feel better for you this way.” You nod, gripping his strong shoulders tightly as he leans down, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your torso.

He slides his cock through your folds, watching intently as your eyelids drop and your mouth falls open.

“Feels nice, Bunny? Nice and warm?” You nod, a whimper falling from your lips as his cock rubs against your swollen clit.

He pulls back after a moment more to align himself, then slowly pushes his cock into you.

Your face scrunches up in pain and he stops immediately, pulling back and leaning down until his face is above your heat.

You hear him spit a moment before you feel the liquid splatter against you. He does it a few times and you feel slightly mortified.

“Don’t be shy, Bunny. I just gotta make sure you’re nice and wet. It��ll stop it from hurting as much.” You nod, keeping your eyes closed as he hovers over you again.

This time when he pushes in it doesn’t hurt nearly as much.

He pushes in slowly, his eyes focused on your face as he meets the band of resistance he was waiting for. He slowly pushes further, frowning when you wince and inhale sharply.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he has to.

When he’s finally bottomed out inside of you, you let out a big breath.

“Look, Bunny.” You open your eyes and follow his gaze down to where the two of you are connected, your pussy fluttering around him at the sight.

He’s fully sheathed inside of you, and your lower abdomen bulges slightly because of it.

“You’ve got all of my big cock in you. Your pretty pussy is taking me like a champ.” You stare down at where his cock disappears inside of you, a gasp falling from your lips when he pulls out a few inches, only to push it right back in.

“Once I start moving it’ll feel better. Whenever you’re ready, let me know.” You nod, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling of fulness. It’s like you’re finally getting something you didn’t know you needed.

He feels so hot and heavy inside of you, you want to keep him exactly where he is forever.

After a few more moments of adjusting to the intrusion, you open your eyes and lift one hand to cup his jaw.

His eyes snap to yours, a soft admiration clouding his beautiful blues.

You pucker your lips and he smiles, dropping his head and pressing a soft kiss to your lips while slowly starting to thrust.

His pace is slow and steady, pulling out nearly all the way then slowly pushing back in, each thrust stretching your walls further than the last.

“Fuck... you’re so fucking tight... feel so good, bunny.” Your nails dig into his shoulders as he gradually speeds up, each drag against your walls bringing you a type of pleasure you’ve only dreamed of.

“S-steve... feels... feels nice... so big...” You’re hardly making any sense but you speak anyway, toes curling as he speeds up even more.

His lips find your throat and you whine loudly, nails raking down his back.

“M’gonna go harder and faster, okay Bunny? You ready?” You nod, mouth dropping open as he hammers his hips forward, cock hitting places inside of you that make you see stars.

The noises coming from you nearly have him cumming hard, but he grinds his teeth together. He’s determined to make you cum first.

One of his hands darts between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing circles on it.

Your back arches hard, chest pressed tight against his as your eyes roll back into your head, an orgasm racing down your spine and exploding in your stomach.

Every nerve in your body is on fire, stars dance behind your eyes, and your cunt clamps down hard on Steve's cock.

The blond groans lowly, eyes squeezed shut as he falls into his own climax.

He fills you, white painting your walls and warming you from the inside.

The two of you stay like that, you trembling on the bed and Steve slowly starting to shake above you as his muscles threaten to give out.

After a moment he rolls onto his side, pulling you close to him to keep his cock locked inside of you.

His fingers trace along your spine, rubbing up and down so gently that it nearly lulls you to sleep.

“Fucking hell, bunny.” He presses his lips against your forehead, beyond satisfied with what just happened. You hum softly, nuzzling deeper against his chest.

He kicks the blankets up until they’re around his knees then pulls them up to cover the two of you.

You’re snuggled up against him, one of your legs tossed over his hip as his cock sits nice and snug inside of you.

“Thank you, Steve.” He’s quiet for a moment before hugging you tightly.

“Anything for you, Bunny.”

[kaitsawamura]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk.  But he was just like that you had quickly discovered.  He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn.  The kids flocked to him.  Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him.  It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts.  The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there?  You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly.  It isn’t big.  You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses.  Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous.  But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time.  Clean, straight lines and lots of windows.  In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door.  Is that a pool ?  Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro.  The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth.  You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out!  I mean, that would have been fine, of course.  I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.”  He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool.  “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!”  You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym.  I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely.  You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here.  The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves.  But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins.  You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago.  And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs.  No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side.  Shit.  His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.  He has to know .  Doesn’t he?  From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .  

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive.  Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard.  You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping.  It’s so green .  There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna.  Violets, tulips.  Huge hosta plants.  And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.  

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!”  He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it?  I guess it is pretty nice, huh?”  You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile.  You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.”  You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world.  After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet.  “What are you thinking for today?”  The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat.  You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?”  You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan.  The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips.   He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick.  You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet.  He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display.   Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri.  I just don’t want to wear you out .  You’re a Pro Hero.  You’re on the job a lot more than I am.  Plus, you’re getting kind of old.  Is that a little gray I see coming in?”  Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair.  There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted.  Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.”  Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw.  His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip.  His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment.  You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity.  He looks as if he’s going to devour you.  You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body.  A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up.  The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin.  The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen.  You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat.  The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym.  You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment.  When you could give extra attention with extra time. 

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you.  You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk.  Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit.  Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist.  It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk.  Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk.  It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills.  The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy.  You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well.  You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven.  His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice.  You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out.  It surges through you like pure energy.  

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook.  This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt.  Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet.  He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?”  He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach.  You were fast, but still not always fast enough.  You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in.  Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top.  You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over.  “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard.  You good?”  

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable.  He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late.  You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today.  Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back.  But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core.  He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours.  You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before…  “Fuuu-.”  It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open.  You’re seeing stars.  Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again.  You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun.  You snort, rolling your eyes.  Why does he still look so fucking good?  The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl.  His hair has curl to it?  You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes.  You like the curl.  “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?”  It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms.  “I’m thinking not.  Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.”  You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows.  Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.   

“Is that any way to treat your student,  Red Riot?”  You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll.  He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space.  You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.  

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth.  “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher.  I’m not that much older than you.  Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?”  He’s so fucking close.  This is getting dangerous.  Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance.  Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass.  Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.  

So you fall back on what you’re here to do.  Fight.  You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away.  His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared.  He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay.  I see.  I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?”  You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri.  Bring it on.”  He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control.  “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles.  Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more.  Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply.  And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon.  But you’re also both stubborn.  And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination.  No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration.  The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not.  You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head.  You can be too predictable sometimes.”  He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire.  You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless.  You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc.  A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle.  He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming.  But he doesn’t.  And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.  

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward.  He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand.  You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck.  Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body.  It doesn’t take long for him to tap out.  You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off.  Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride.  You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad.  In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good .  He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you.  His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere.  He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes.  If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you.  He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable.  You did good today.  Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far.  Keep it up.”  He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts.  He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment.  “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--”  The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his.  His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair.  You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more.  Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment.  A suspended second in time.  But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side.  But it’s warm and gentle.  Gentle.  Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle?  But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations.  His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit.  You’re so wet .”  He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit.  He takes his hand away and you mewl.  “Can I?”  He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts.  You nod, eyes half-lidded.  He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious.  Adoration.  It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt.  You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it.  Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm.  You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat.  He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to.  He’s done this before, he’s had to.  He’s too good.  Too fucking good.  Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth.  “Shit.  Shit.  Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--”  He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym.  It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but  Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue.  But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock.  You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum.  Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them.  Another time, maybe.  

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing .  He could snap you like a twig.  But he won’t.  You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…”  You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders.  You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled.  You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much.  His forehead drops to yours as he pants.  But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to.  It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins.  You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss.  “Oh fuck, ohfuck.”  You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing.  “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper.  Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity.  Let him leave marks.  Let him leave them everywhere.  He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling.  “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.”  His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good.  S’ tight.  Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym.  The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip.  He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes.  Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ”  He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct.  He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point.  “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream.  Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic.  The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath.  “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins.  His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt.  He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole.  Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours.  Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before.  You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri.  Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression.  Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed.  He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex.  But you’re smiling.  Lazy and tired, completely at ease.  “Wanna take a shower?”  When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest.  He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm.  Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra.  Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now.  When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again.  His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss.  But it's slow and sweet. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers.  He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water.  Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now.  The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep.  But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in.  When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel.  “You okay?”  He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired.  I should, uh, probably get going.”  Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line.  Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail.  But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug.  A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest.  His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice.  You bury your face further in as you nod against him.  Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed.  He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him.  Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.  

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you.  The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.  

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket.  It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake.  You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb.  A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist.  His eyes are open now and he watches you.  You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious.  “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time.  I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t…  I don’t really hook up .”  Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across.  He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful.  And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along.  You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling.  “I just.  I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you.  I’ve liked you for a long time.  And normally I would have wined and dined you first but...  Well.  Here we are.  Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face.  “Is something funny?”  That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri.  I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.”  A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection.  The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

[keanureevesisbae]

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨

[page150]

My Baby 💎 Latrelle x Reader

Request: None

Pronouns: None Stated

Word Count: 1615

Warnings: angst , really small mention of blood

“What did I say about getting blood on my carpet?” You mumbled, dabbing the cut on Latrelle’s cheek with a soft tissue.

“Not to,” He replied.

You shake your head, tossing the bloody tissue into the trash can. He was bruised up bad this time. Cuts on his face, a black eye, he was even limping. The blood that dripped from his nose onto your white carpet seemed less of a problem compared to him.

“I’ll clean it for you.” He squints his eyes shut as you clean one of the bigger cuts on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, you need to rest.”

You glance at the time. You had woken up an hour ago to the sound of someone knocking at your door. Of course it was Latrelle, beat up. You knew he had been messing with César again.

You wondered why it was so hard for Latrelle to leave César alone. César rarely messed with him. It was always Latrelle actively making things tense for everyone. He made it hard to be in a relationship with him, while also respecting César and his friends. You toss Latrelle a blanket and a pillow from your bed, before climbing in.

“You can sleep on the couch. Then leave in the morning.”

“Babe, you really gonna treat me that way?”

“Yes, I am because you had the nerve to wake me up at 3am to bandage you up because you were starting some stupid b.s. with César.”

He rolled his eyes and tried to get in the bed with you. “You know it’s the life I live y/n. I have to keep them on their toes or they’ll get comfy. You can’t change me baby”

This pissed you off. You pushed him off of the bed. “No because I know the life you live. I'm not trying to change you, it’s just when you're messing with him that’s when I get mad. Do you know how hard it is to watch you run and start a fight with César and have to baby you back to health, only to look Monse in the eye the next morning to say hello. It’s really freaking hard.”

He throws his hands up, “Whatever you’re bugging. You always take things too far y/n. I wasn’t even really messing with him. It was only him and his girl. He was on me for no reason so I had to say something. It wasn’t my fault he was acting all tough like he was gon do something.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up. “Monse was there?” You ask.

“If that’s her name then yeah.”

“You fought him while Monse was there!” You yell, throwing a pillow at his face.

The pillow hits Latrelle hard. He throws it out your bedroom door, turning to look at you, his mouth turning into a scowl.

You return the face, “You’re lucky he didn’t have a gun, Latrelle! You know he gets protective when he's with his friends. You know this!”

“You need to calm down. Why are you getting so emotional?”

“Why am I getting emotional? I’m getting emotional because one day you might not knock on my door. You might be bleeding out in the street, because of your dumb decisions. I would never forgive myself if you…” You felt tears start to roll down your cheek, but you don’t stop yelling even though your voice is breaking with sobs.

“Please break up with me if you are going to keep doing this. Please. I can’t keep helping you like this. I can’t keep defending you. Don’t you love me? Why can’t we go to the park or on dates like we used to? Why will you ignore my texts for days but feel fine with coming to my door bloody. You said you love me so why don’t you act like it?”

Latrelle stared up at you from his place on the ground. You were full on crying now. Fat tears slid down your face onto your sheets and you put your head in your hands. You heard Latrelle get up but you didn’t feel his warmth on your body. You didn’t smell his cologne or feel his tight hugs. He had gotten up and walked out the door.

You got up and threw on a robe, suddenly self-conscious of your outfit even though it was just a shirt and shorts. You ran out of your bedroom, into the hallway, all the way to the front door, but he was gone. He hadn’t even locked the door behind him.

Opening the door you step out. Your hot face was cooled by the wind. It fluttered around you, shaking the trees. The only light there was was the moon and the streetlights. No stars, no cars, not even a firefly and not even your boyfriend.

Shutting the door you slide down with your back against it. You reach the floor and wrap your arms around your knees and continue to cry. Your heart began to ache at the silence. He had left you. He had walked out and left you.

You fell asleep there. On the wooden floor, in front of your front door. In the morning you woke up to your alarm blaring from your room. Your cheeks were still stained with tears, your eyes bright red and it seemed hard to keep them open. All you wanted to do was sleep a little more. To move to your warm bed and fall back asleep, but if you missed a day of school it would make your parents come back sooner. You got up and went to your room to change. You chose a random black sweatshirt and jeans.

After washing your face, brushing your teeth, and eating a little bit of breakfast you start the walk to school. It was one of those mornings where you wished you had more friends, so you wouldn’t have to walk to school alone.

Your lack of friends was one of the things Latrelle liked about you. To him you were safe. Not always the center of attention, but not a nobody. You were a good enough kid that with him being your boyfriend, it made him seem like a better person. In a way you hated him for that. It made you feel more like an accessory than a significant other, but in an attempt to not start crying again, you stop thinking about it.

You walk into the school and head to your first class, then the next. They all go okay. As you walk to lunch Monse gives you a small smile. You smile back, but notice that a lot of people are looking at you. You look down at your outfit. Your jeans weren’t open, the sweatshirt wasn’t backwards. You sit down at your usual lunch table and suddenly the cafeteria doors are swung open. You didn’t care enough to look up.

Someone sits right in front of you. You start to eat your apple, it’s juices dripping down your mouth.

“y/n I’m sorry.” Latrelle mumbled.

“Are you?” You questioned. Using the back of your hand to wipe away the sticky juices.

“I got you this.”

You look up and see a single flower. “You got me one flower that I’m supposed to carry around school.”

“Dang why can’t you be happy,”

“I’m done explaining stuff to you and your dumb attempts of apologizing. You can go.”

Latrelle places the flower on the table. You start to eat your sandwich.

“Look, I’m real sorry y/n. I shouldn’t have walked out on you. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I was just frustrated. I didn't want you to have to deal with me any more that night. I even apologized to César. Well I didn’t apologize because I aint no punk, but you know I gave him a nod. Babe, I hate when you're angry at me.”

You start to eat your sandwich, but you weren’t hungry anymore. As you get up from your seat to throw your trash away, his hand goes around your wrist. His brown eyes looked into yours, but you removed his hand and walked away.

He followed you into the hallway.

“Y/N please.”

You turn to face him, sticking a finger into his chest. “Look you can apologize all you want, but unless you’re really going to change, leave me alone. I told you, I rather you break up with me then to keep lying and doing stupid stuff.”

He pulls you into an empty classroom. He kissed your neck and rubs his hands on your back, You kiss back. It continues for a few seconds. You and Latrelle make out in an empty classroom until he pulls away and hugs you. His hugs were always almost too tight. He hugged you like he never wanted to let you go, like he never wanted anything to get to you.

“I swear I won’t do anymore stuff like that.” He whispered. He pulled a box out of his back pocket. “Here’s your actual gift.”

Inside the box was a cute gray bracelet with your birthstone in it. Your name and his are written in cursive underneath it, along with your anniversary date. “You really did this for me?”

“Yeah, you my baby. I had to search up ideas. I know you like cute things like this.”

You felt your cheeks start to warm up. The bracelet was exactly your size and you couldn't stop looking at it. “Thank you baby.”

“Anything for you.” He put one of his arms on your shoulders. “You wanna get out of here. You look tired.”

Ignoring your other classes you say yes and walk with him out the back of the school.

Author's Note: Fun fact this was originally going to be a César post, but I decided I wanted to do a cuter one for him. But omg I wanted this to be for him so bad. Be on the lookout for my next post because it will def be a César one! Anyway Requests are still open! Please like if you enjoyed and follow. We're almost at 50 followers and I have a huge surprise when we reach 100 <3!! Have a wonderful day ~c'k

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Best Part Of The Day

Summary: Dean comes home to find the reader home from work early but something is off about her and he’s not quite sure what to think of it...

Pairing: Construction worker!Dean x reader

Square: Roommates (Tell Me A Story Bingo) & Jack-hammering (SPN Kink Bingo)

Word Count: 1,300ish

Warnings: mature (language, mentioned past smut, minor injury, angst, fluff)

A/N: Written for @spnkinkbingo​ & @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!

_______

You screamed from in the shower when you saw movement out of the side of your eye. A deeper scream followed quickly after, Dean standing there all sweaty and dirty, hair matted down from his hard hat all day. You stared at him from the other side of the glass door, Dean immediately turning around. He squeezed his eyes shut when he could still see you in the mirror and threw his hands over his face.

“I am so sorry. Like so, so sorry. The door wasn’t locked and the shower card wasn’t up and-”

“Dean dude. Relax. It’s not like I’ve never walked in on you naked either,” you said. “We’re adults. It’s fine.” You turned and put your back to him, Dean humming to himself.

“You’re normally not in the shower right now,” he said.

“Yeah well...work sucked,” you said. You heard him shuffle around and the top of the hamper open. 

“Is this mud?” he asked. You looked over your shoulder and saw him holding up your dirty blouse. “I can get this clean.”

“Dean it’s-”

“If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s gets get dirty clothes clean again,” he said. You smiled and nodded. “I’ll take this stuff down to the laundry room and take care of it.”

“Thanks Dean. I owe you one.”

“Dean?” you called from your bedroom as he walked past in a towel after his shower. He stepped back and you sat up on bed in your oversized shirt and underwear. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Shoot,” he said. He stepped inside and sat on the end of the bed, holding the towel closed over himself.

“If I was late on my half of rent for the month…” you swallowed. He smiled and nodded. “Just a little while. I promise-”

“I got plenty from overtime and double time. I got rent the next few months,” he said. 

“Thank you.” He stared at you, probably hoping you’d tell him what had happened that day, why you who worked in an office was covered head to toe in mud at some point, why you were home showering an hour before you were supposed to be. Instead of asking though, he simply reached a hand out and gave yours a squeeze.

“How about we order way too much takeout and get drunk tonight?” he said. He smiled softly and you swallowed.

“Don’t you have a date with Cassie?”

“Broke up with me three days ago,” he said. You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “I was thinking of ending things myself so it was really no hard feelings. We’re on different paths and all that crap.”

“You okay?” you asked quietly. “You guys seemed good together.”

“She’s moving to Cophenhagen for work. She didn’t want to be tied down. I don’t blame her. She’s you know, becoming an international lawyer and I jack hammer for a living.”

“Dean you’re a construction program manager. You build businesses. You’re building a freaking school right now. You don’t just use a jack hammer for a living.”

“You aren’t just an executive assistant,” he said. You looked down and you swore he moved an inch closer. “What happened today, Y/N?”

“Can we talk about it later?” you asked.

“Later. After our dinner, okay?” he said. You nodded and he moved closer, his bare leg touching yours. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I know you just showered but would...would you go to the pharmacy and get me a few things if I wrote them down?” you asked.

“Of course. Make up a list for me and I’ll go get dressed. I can order and pick up our takeout on the way back. Sound good?” he asked. You nodded and tucked your knees up. “Y/N. I don’t need to call the police for any reason do I?”

You shook your head and he smiled, leaning over and kissing your temple.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll get you my fuzzy hot dog pants while you write down what you need.”

An hour later you were exiting the bathroom, Dean dishing up a pair of plates for the two of you. He didn’t say a word about the things you’d asked him to pick up but you knew what was churning in the back of his head.

“It was consensual,” you said. “Sex with my boss.”

He looked up and nodded as you sat down at the counter.

“He was...rough. Like going at like the energizer bunny rough.”

“He was jack-hammering,” said Dean.

“Yeah. It’s not very...pleasurable on the receiving end, especially without enough lube. I mean, we were both into it at first. You know we’ve been flirting forever. But after he was just...an ass and he fired me and all he wanted was in my pants and I was stupid and fell for it and on my way out I got splashed by a truck going past and everything down there is sore and that’s way too much  information and I didn’t even notice you and Cassie broke up and-”

“Sh,” said Dean, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a deep hug. “It’s alright. You had a bad day. Promise he didn’t hurt you?”

“No. It wasn’t very fun was all,” you sniffled. “Then he was a dick when I said I didn’t want to sleep with him again.”

“You stood up for yourself. You did everything right today.”

“I slept with my boss.”

“People sleep with their boss all the time. He was always a decent guy when I met him. I’m sorry he just played along until he got what he wanted. You scared me earlier.”

“Sorry,” you said quietly, face buried in his chest.

“Not your fault. I haven’t been exactly honest about the Cassie thing.” You looked up and he smiled. “I haven’t felt...the way you’re supposed to feel in a long time with her. She’s a good friend but we were only ever meant to be friends.”

“Then why’d you stay with her?”

“The girl I liked was into her boss. I thought they were together on the low. I figured it was a crush.”

“Was it?” you asked. He shook his head and you leaned your head up, pecking a light kiss to his lips. “How about now?”

“I guess that answer depends on her. I’m already a sucker. Just need to know what she thinks.”

“I think you’ve been the one good part of my crappy day,” you said. “You’re always the good part of my day.”

“I’m a good friend then. A good roommate.”

“Yes. Kinda hard to tell your roommate you like him when he’s with a lawyer and you’re some assistant that her boss fucks.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You thought it was the start of something more and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Why would you want to be with someone like me, that does that?”

“I’ve been the guy who’s young attractive corporate boss tells him things and he believes her and then he gets tossed aside after she’s gotten what she wanted. There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing.”

“Where do we go from here?” you asked. He held you close and smiled. “Dinner?”

“Dinner. Watch a movie. Tomorrow I will take you to lunch if that’s okay,” he said. “Tonight we can still just be friends.”

“Okay,” you said. You stared at him and he pressed his lips to yours, still but leaving them for a long few seconds. “Or we could start tonight?”

“Tonight’s good,” he said. You smiled and he grinned. “I don’t let just anybody have my favorite pajama pants you know.”

“I know,” you said. “Thanks for taking care of me today Dean.”

“Never have to thank me for that sweetheart. Never.”

_______

[fivelakesinwriting]

if it’s not too much , could you write about you telling barry you’re pregnant, but it’s angsty? like he snaps at you abd you’re like “don’t yell at me or my child and i are gone”

Author's Notes: I love Baby Daddy Barry. Weak for Baby Daddy Barry - or just Barry in general... This one is a little feistier than the others..

Warnings: Swearing, Pregnancy (so, unprotected sex - be safe!) , Angst, Mentions of dealing drugs, Sexual references - sexual innuendos

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

She stood in the parking lot of the clinic with her hands on her hips and looked at the sky. That anxious feeling that had been sitting on her chest for the last few weeks was now exceptionally heavy.

Confirmed. She was pregnant.

She was completely unsure of how he was going to react to the news. It wasn't something they talked about, although their birth control plan was more on the reckless and carefree side of things. He preferred the pull out method, or "see how it goes" more than anything.

As she slowly made her way up the dirt drive towards the small home she had been living in with him for the last few months, she felt her heart rate begin to pick up. The back of her neck started to get sweaty, and it had nothing to do with the afternoon sun on the back on it.

"Where you been?" He grunted as he walked around from the back of the house, pulling a bandana from the back pocket of his coveralls as wiped it over the wrench in his other hand.

"I was at the clinic." She replied softly as she walked over to him, her hands behind her back. She stopped herself during her movement as she wondered if Barry could notice a change in her body. A baby bump, or any thing. She felt like her boobs were larger than life lately, and wondered how he hadn't caught on.

"You alright?" Barry asked as he placed the tool back in its rightful box then stood in front of her.

"Remember how I said I wasn't feeling well? And my boobs hurt?" She replied as she reached for the buttons of his coveralls, her eyes on his chest.

Barry hummed in response, his hands at his sides. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, knowing where this was going. He had never gotten anyone pregnant before - to his knowledge - but he wasn't stupid. He knew they had been a little extremely reckless lately, and it felt like only a matter of time before this conversation came up.

"No." Barry stated firmly as he looked his pregnant girlfriend up and down, then turned to walk back into his house.

"No? What do you mean? I felt sick for days, and you couldn't touch my boobs because it hurt too much. So I went to the doctor and - Stop walking! Barry, I'm pregnant!" She called after him as he walked away from her.

"I mean, you can't be here and pregnant. I'm a dealer. I can't have my baby mama here, while I'm dealing coke. It's illogical. Makes no sense." Barry replied as he ran his fingers under his chin.

"Then get another job, Barry." She glared, hands on her hips.

"I had every job there is to have on this island. This is my job. It's the job I'm gonna have." Barry growled back at her. His eyes scanned her body and it all made sense now.

The strange appetite, her breasts hurting when he tried to touch her, her insatiable need for him otherwise, and the mood swings - more rapid than usual. He should have known a while ago that something was different.

"So, our baby is gonna have a drug dealer daddy?" She asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, standing her ground.

"Should've thought of that before you let me knock you up, fuck you like a slut on the beach." Barry spat, looking her over and ignoring the ache in his heart to touch her, feel that little piece of love growing inside her.

"Fuck you, Barry. Don't talk to me like that, or I'll be gone for real. Me and the baby." She glared, taking a step forward so the tips of their toes touched.

That was one of the things Barry loved about her so much. She wasn't afraid of him. She stood her ground with him better than half the men he dealt with daily. She would put a bullet in him just as easily as she would take one for him, and he liked that about her.

"Can't take it from me." Barry mumbled as he looked down at her while the tension between them dissipated slightly. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his coveralls and kept his eyes on her.

"Then what do we do?" She sighed while she uncrossed her arms and pushed her hands through her hair.

"Not gonna stop dealing, 'cause I won't work a 9-5. And I make too much money dealing to these fucking Kooks. Send our kid to an Ivy League or something, if it wanted. But I don't want you to leave." Barry grumbled, taking one hand out of his pocket to lace his fingers with hers.

"So we can stay?" She unlaced her fingers to take hold of wrist, placing his hand over her belly where his baby was growing.

"Yeah. I'll deal out in the work shed or only out back. I don't know right now, guess we got time." Barry sighed with a soft smile as his fingertips brushed over her stomach.

"Couple of months, yeah." She nodded as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed on her toes so she could brush her nose against his.

"Did fuck you like a slut that night on the beach." Barry smirked as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his hands on her backside.

"Don't say stuff like that in front of the baby!" She whined as she tossed her head back, her fingertips tugging at his hair still neatly pulled back.

"Knees at your ears while you screamed and -"

"I will leave you." She stated firmly as she placed her hand over his smirk.

"Nah. Fuck you too good. You wouldn't." Barry grinned as he pulled her hand from his mouth with one hand, as the other gave her backside a rough smack.

"Don't be mean to me. I'm carrying your baby." She pouted up at him.

Barry nodded as he placed his hand back on her belly, now noticing the slight hardness to it where it had once been soft. He kept his hands on her and pulled her close so he could press a kiss to her forehead, letting them be in a moment of silence.

Just the two of them.

Hotties:

@rottenstyx @starkey-babie @barrysjumpsuit @plutooryectors @sodasback @maybankslut @fashion-fasting @soph0864 @professional-busboy @beauvibaby @rafestarkeys

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 2)

(part 1)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 3k

chapter warnings: kinda smut? (male masturbation), stalking (not bucky lol), a bit a violence, angst

It had been a month.  Well, 29 days, to be exact; he’d been counting them.  29 days since he’d seen so much more than he was supposed to, and he was pretty sure you’d seen him too.  29 days of tense silence as he wondered if you were ever going to say anything about it.

It must have been that you hadn’t seen him, if you hadn’t said anything for so long.  But god, it really did feel like you were looking right into his eyes as you came that night.  He knew the reality was that it was a horrible mistake and he was a terrible person for looking at you like that, and that he was never going to be any closer to you than watching someone else pleasure you; he knew that truly.  But regardless, that moment had been playing on repeat in his mind for 29 days.

And now, as he took his shower, he prepared to finish off day 29 and start day 30.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, head falling back against the cool tile as his hand stroked slowly over his cock.  He’d dreamt about you (again) and woken up so hard that it actually hurt; so this wasn’t a continuation of his perversion, or his unhealthy obsession, no, it was pain relief.  It was medicine, really.

In his dream, like always, it had been him between your legs in the back of the car and not that other guy— who he’d seen on TV the other day, dying in the first five minutes of an episode of some awful CW drama, by the way.  It killed him that he couldn’t know how you really taste, or how you really would sound saying his name, but the best guess of his subconscious would have to do.  He tried to conjure in his mind how you sounded that night, each frame of the memory burned into his brain until it was what he saw every time it closed his eyes.

Baby.

That was what you’d said first, and it still made his heart stop every time it echoed in his head.  Baby.

The word itself was sort of innocuous, but it was the way you said it— just below your breath, deep but airy— and what it meant.  It was a plea: you were begging him to touch you, to make you feel good, to help you.  Bucky could listen to you beg for hours, it would be like music to his ears; like poetry, even.  

Later that night, when he’d given you the rest of his sandwich, he’d gotten the closest he ever would to hearing you moan his name.  What you’d said originally was just ‘oh my god, Bucky, this is so good’ and it was just generic enough that he could imagine it being a little more specific.  Sure, it was stupid to get off on memories of you praising a sandwich (that you ate while drunk in the shower) but it still did wonders for him as his hand pumped his length faster and faster.

Oh my god, Bucky, it feels so good— you feel so good.  You’re so good.  Oh my god, Bucky—

He bit down on his lip, already so close to the edge that there was no turning back, toes curling underneath the stream of hot water as his breathing moved just as quick as his thoughts— thoughts of you in the back of the car, or in the shower with your foggy silhouette just barely visible to him, or doing all sorts of things that he’d never seen you do but he’d love to pretend he had.  

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you yelled as you swung open the door, a choked moan jumping out of his throat in shock as his eyes shot open, come starting to spill down over his hand.

You couldn’t see him through his shower curtain, thank all that’s holy, but it was a sort of sensory overload as he tried to process what was going on mid-orgasm.

“What?!” he yelped, voice clearly rougher but hopefully not in a way you would find suspicious.

“Come quick,” you requested.

Already did, he thought to himself with a shudder of guilt.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s somebody in the yard,” you explained frantically, “it’s probably nothing, but I don’t know how they got past the gate—”

Your mitigation was lost to him as he was already turning off the flow of water, the evidence of his misdeed already washed away, leaving only the ringing in his ears and the burning in his cheeks as reminders.

You stepped out into the hall to give him just enough privacy to slip on a robe, which he was certain he looked ridiculous in but he really had no choice.  Storming out of the bathroom, he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront a potential threat while dripping wet and barefoot, but the whole point of him living here most of the week was so he could keep you safe at all times— apparently, shower time included.  

“Stay inside,” he instructed you quickly, “and stay out of the line of sight of any windows and doors, got it?” 

You nodded, and he could tell you were scared.  He hated that you had to worry about this sort of stuff.  He was glad to be there to help, yes, but he would rather this line of work didn’t need to exist at all even if it put him out of a job.  You waited for him there as he pushed past you and moved through the living room, considering whether or not he should grab a weapon from the safe he kept hidden in this room— but then he glanced to his left arm, drying quicker than the rest of him, and remembered he already had a weapon.

By the time he reached the door he could hear someone shouting your name outside.  As Bucky flipped on the damn-near-blinding security light on your porch and entered the yard, he saw a guy— smaller than him, but not exactly tiny— who seemed to ignore him and the light completely as he continued his desperate attempts to get your attention.  

“This is private property, you need to leave,” Bucky told the man in his best ‘stern but not quite yelling’ voice. 

“Is she home?” he asked him instead, totally unfazed by the warning.  As the fan looked back up and called your name again, Bucky shivered with the realization that he was looking up at your bedroom window.  Had he already seen you there?  Or, worse, did he have some other way of knowing which window was your bedroom?

“You need to get out of here before I call the police.  You’re trespassing,” Bucky continued, pushing the man back towards the gate.  Sadly, Bucky knew from experience the police weren’t that concerned about celebrity stalkers— you and him had both called to no avail once they learned the name of the homeowner.  It made his blood boil just to think about it.

“Hey, let go of me!” the man resisted, pushing Bucky back.  He seemed to sober up a bit when Bucky’s face changed, though, but it was too late.  He tried to duck but totally missed, and Bucky’s right fist made contact with his jaw.  “Ow!” he screeched, cowering and trying to cover his face.  “What the fuck?!  That’s assault— you just assaulted me!”

“And you’re trespassing.  And harassing.  And probably stalking,” Bucky listed, continuing to guide the man back towards the gate.  “Tell me how you got in here.  Did you hop the fence?”

He couldn’t go any further back as the man was pressed back against a stone column, squirming a bit but otherwise putting up little fight— or maybe he was actually trying his best, and it was just lost on someone as strong as Bucky.  

Unamused by his stammering and lack of an answer, Bucky brought his metal fist to the column right beside the man’s face, hitting hard enough to break off a sizable chunk of the stone.  “Tell me!” he demanded.

“There’s a tree out back, I climbed it!” he explained with a whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t come back here, you hear me?  Or this—” Bucky pointed to the dent in the column that he’d made— “will be your face!”

Letting him go and swinging open the gate a bit, the man ran away of his own volition, stumbling down the street and out of the glowing light of the streetlamps.  Bucky let out a low sigh, hoping it was the last of him but terrified that it wouldn’t be.  He made a mental note to call a landscaper about trimming this mysterious tree in the back, or maybe chopping it down altogether, as he made his way back inside.  He found you in the living room, chewing your nails nervously and watching him step closer with wide, watery eyes.

“He’s gone,” Bucky informed you quickly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“Um, yeah,” you decided, but you didn’t seem so confident.  Even so, he wasn’t sure what more he could do.  

“Oh, I broke your pillar, by the way.  Sorry.”

“I saw that,” you smiled a little, but he frowned.

“I told you to stay out of sight of the windows,” he reminded you.

You sighed.   “I know, I know, I just…” you trailed off, lip quivering a little as you got emotional again.  “I know it’s stupid but—”

“No, don’t say that,” he interjected.

“— but I was so scared,” you finished, voice wavering as you ran towards him, suddenly pulling him into a tight hug.  It took him by surprise, but he figured it was okay to hug you back.  He was only wearing a robe, he suddenly remembered, and your face was against the exposed portion of his bare chest.  If he hadn’t gotten off just minutes ago, he certainly would’ve gotten hard just from that (embarrassingly enough).

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed gently, indulging himself in resting his chin on top of your head as he stroked your hair.  

“Thank you,” you mumbled against his skin, pulling him even closer, “god, I don’t even know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

A pang of guilt rattled in his chest; you trusted him so completely and he was crushing on you, spying on you (only the once, but still), taking advantage of your need for protection, staying in your guest bedroom and jerking off to you in your shower— when had he turned into an unstoppable pervert?

“Will you stay in my room tonight?” you asked him suddenly, looking up at him with those big shiny eyes and a pouty lip.

“Oh nonononono,” he shook his head, instantly recognizing that trap.

“No, Bucky, please,” you whimpered, “that guy might come back, I don’t want you all the way across the house.”

“I shouldn’t— I’d be overstepping—” he stammered.

“Please,” you sighed, and he sighed too, because when you said it like that, he couldn’t say no to you.

//

Bucky had insisted on staying on the floor as opposed to getting up on your bed, which was a drag but whatever.  At least you had a lot of good spare blankets and pillows to make him a comfy-looking pallet.  He seemed to agree when he appeared behind you in the doorway to find you on your knees on the floor, putting it all together.

“You didn’t need to do that, I’m pretty good at sleeping on floors as-is,” he dismissed.

“No, I’m happy to!” you beamed, turning around and choking a bit when you looked up at him in his pajamas.  Even though they were still pretty conservative, specifically sweats and a scoop neck sweater-y sort of top, it was probably more than you’d ever seen of him since his uniform was very concealing.  You were kind of hoping to catch a glimpse of his metal hand— you didn’t get to see it much because he wore driving gloves the vast majority of the time, and you hadn’t really been paying attention when it was exposed earlier by his just being in a robe— but he was noticeably leaning against the doorframe in such a way that you couldn’t see it.  The thing that really got a reaction out of you was his dog tags, though; you’d never seen him wear them before and there was something perfect about the way the silver chain dangled over the slight peek of collarbone visible above his neckline.  “Aren’t you warm wearing that much to bed?”

“No, it’s fine,” he dismissed.  You hoped he wasn’t wearing more just for your benefit.  Shirtlessness would’ve benefited you more, certainly.  In fact, now you felt kind of bad that you were just wearing a thin, silky short-and-tank set.  Hopefully it didn’t make him uncomfortable.

Getting up from the floor, you slipped under your covers and motioned for him to do the same.  He turned off your lamp first, stealing your last chance at a good view of the hand, and you heard him get comfortable on the floor.

“Thank you for this,” you mumbled quickly into the darkness.  “I don’t think I’d be able to fall asleep if you weren’t in here.

“Oh, of course,” he replied softly.  

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” he answered back, and his low, sleepy voice was somehow both soothing and energizing.

You weren’t sure if you even tried to fall asleep, or how long you laid staring out into the void of the darkness.  It was so dark in your room that you saw purple spots dancing in the corners like static as your eyes adjusted, incomprehensible shapes forming to make up for the lack of visual stimulation.  You wished that there was enough ambient light to be able to see Bucky’s shape on the floor and know he was there; instead, you settled for the subtle sound of his slow breathing.  When you heard him adjust slightly, you decided maybe just the breathing wasn’t enough to be sure it was really safe.

“Bucky?” you whispered under your breath.  “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he answered, making you sigh with relief.

“I can’t sleep.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here.”

“But I never said you being here would make me sleep,” you pointed out.

“Then I should go,” he decided.

“No, please,” you hissed, “don’t go.”

“Okay.”

You took a deep breath.  “Tell me something,” you requested.

“Tell you what?”

“I don’t know, anything.”

He paused for a moment.  “Will it help you sleep?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Bucky sighed, and you heard him turn on his side.  “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” he asked, sarcasm noticeable even in a whisper.

“Yes,” you announced with a smile.

“Okay,” he pondered, “um… once upon a time—”

“Good start,” you rolled your eyes.

“No interrupting!” he scolded.

“Sorry…”

“Anyways, once upon a time there was a princess, who lived in a castle in the Isle of Manhattan.”

“A castle?” you asked excitedly.

“A somewhat modest castle, but yes.  One with big golden gates and marble columns.  The princess didn’t live all alone in her castle though— at least, not all the time.  She had many royal attendants, and servants, and plenty of friends of course.  But the problem with being a beautiful, kind, generous princess is that sometimes people get too friendly and want to visit her in the castle when she’d rather be alone.  Thankfully, the princess had a last line of defense—”

“Let me guess, a knight in shining armor?”  Or more like knight with shining arm.

“Wish I could say so,” he disagreed.  “No, this princess needed something a little fiercer, and that was why a dragon guarded the castle.”

“A dragon?!”

“Mhmm.  A big, scary dragon with sharp teeth and big wings, that breathed fire on anyone who got in his way.  The thing about knights is that they’re noble, and handsome, and righteous.  But righteousness prevents people from doing bad things, and sometimes bad things need to be done to protect good things.  So, knights can’t protect princesses like they should.  That’s what dragons are for.  They’re mean and nasty— it’s their nature, after all— and sometimes you need somebody burnt up, so you call a dragon and he’ll deal with it for you.  And this dragon was the meanest and nastiest of them all, and he’d burnt a lot of people in his time.  Oddly enough, the princess was still nice to him, but she had a lot of knights and princes and kings who wanted her hand.  Good thing the dragon was there to pick off the worst ones.”

You giggled a little, even though your heart was racing.

“The dragon watched over the castle every night— well, five nights a week… cause the princess wanted weekends to herself— but, still, he was very dedicated and did his best to keep her safe.  Sometimes he would take her to whatever lavish ball she had been invited to that week; she would ride on his back as he flew there, even though he was pretty scared she would fall off or something.  And sometimes…”

Your breath caught at the pause, waiting anxiously for what would come next.  

“Sometimes the dragon wished he wasn’t a monster.  But if he wasn’t a monster, then he couldn’t keep her safe.  So, he resigned himself to a life outside the castle, because at least he could be near her— even if she was impossibly far away.”

You swallowed as you tried to process it, finding yourself at a complete loss for words.

“The end,” he whispered gently, before giving you a goodnight and saying your name in a way that he’d never said it before— at least, you’d never heard him say it that way before.  But you really, really hoped you’d get to hear it again.  You did manage to fall asleep eventually, dreaming about flying and wishing you didn’t have to wake up.