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storiesaplenty · 2 months ago

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In love with an inmate (18+)

Armando Aretas x f/Reader

Bad Boys Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: oral (f receiving) fingering. Oral (m receiving). Unprotected sex.

WC : 2376

From my previous account plentyoffandoms.

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Armando saves you during a riot, & you are thankful for him. You end up making sure he gets the best of the best in jail, but then you fall for him & ending up showing your appreciation in more ways than one.

I have no idea when or how this started with Armando Aretas. When he first came in, he was just another prisoner, a good-looking one at that, but still.

I had a job to do, and that was not about to change just because I found him to be attractive and charming. So damn charming.

But that all changed when there was a riot that broke out in his cell block, and I got trapped in the block. As one of the only four female Correctional officers that works in this place, I was seriously fucked.

I felt hands grab at me, trying to pull off my uniform. I fought back, but once I heard the first rip, I began to panic even more.

That was until I heard the sounds of these men being pulled away from me. I saw Armando punching and throwing his fellow prisoners away from me.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up, and the two of us ran towards his cell.

He slammed his cell door behind him, grabbing my keys that are on my person and locking it. I was shaking by this point, and I was trying to keep the tears at bay.

He wrapped his one bed sheet around me, and them kept his distance as we heard. We listened to the sounds of the riot getting louder as the rest of the prison guards came in full tactical gear.

It slowly started to get quiet as they gained back control over the cell block.

I went to get up to leave. "Just wait. They will come looking for you." Armando said, and not even five minutes later, my co-worker Ben Lopes found me.

As I was leaving his cell, his bed sheet still wrapped around me to cover my skin that could be seen through the rips in my clothes, Armando was facing the wall with his hands against it.

"Okay, Aretas. Get out of your cell and line up with the rest of them." Ben said.

"No, he didn't do anything besides save me. He was in here with me the whole time."

"He got into a fight. We saw it on the camera."

"He was stopping them from doing further harm to me. He does not get punished for this. I'll make sure."

As I was leaving, I stopped next to Armando, asking him to look at me. "Thank you." Was all I said, leaving him standing there.

◆

After that day, even I could admit that I was giving him special treatment, and I know I shouldn't have been, but he saved my life. I could either be in the hospital right now, dealing with lifelong scars or trauma, or I could be dead.

I gave him the best sheets, the best pillows. He got more yard time or got more time in the library. He got the pick of the best books, and once or twice, I allowed him to pick a movie for movie night.

I found out his favourite snacks, and I would bring them in from time to time.

We kept our flirting to a bare minimum because I knew that this would not be going anywhere.

Then, it all seemed to change one night. I was working the night shift, and Armando needed to use the washroom.

The toilet in his cell hasn't been working, and the plumber was coming in the next couple of days.

So as him and I were walking down the dark, silent hallway towards the washroom, we were quiet. I know he was enjoying the almost silence of the prison, and as I stood guard outside the washroom, I basked in quiet myself, already looking forward to my bed for when I get home.

But he opened the door just a crack. "No paper." I sighed and went down to the closet to grab the toilet paper. I knocked on the washroom door, and he opened the door, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me inside of the small room, closing the door behind me,

I struggled until I felt his lips against mine, wrapping his arms around my middle and pulling me flush against his body.

I should have pushed him back. Forced him onto the ground with his hands up for this, but fuck, I have dreamt about this for so long, and his lips are soft.

I moaned into the kiss, not being able to stop myself.

Armando felt like he was everywhere. His hands were all over my body, pulling my shirt from out of my pants, as it was tucked into it.

I didn't stop him when he shoved a hand inside my pants, he looked at me with suprise when he felt that I was not wearing any panties.

I was so wet from just this kiss that he easily slid two fingers into me. I moaned into the kiss as he started to move his fingers in and out of me.

"Shhh, don't wanna get caught, now do we?" I shook my head no, biting my lip. I was so worked up that it didn't take me long for me to finish.

I gripped his arms, as his fingers moved inside of me, his thumb rubbing my clit. My breath got caught in my throat, my mouth fell open to moan out his name as he brought me to orgasm, but Armando covered my mouth once more with his, and kissed me though my orgasm.

He kept fingering me until I had to pull his hand out of my pants. I watched stunned as he brought his fingers to his mouth, placed the two fingers that were inside of me, on his tongue, and closing his mouth.

He groaned at the taste of me, pulling out his fingers. "Next time, I go down on you." My pussy clenched at the thought of there being a next time.

◆

I really didn't think there was going to be a next time, but as I had my back against the maintenance door, my one hand covering my mouth and the other in his hair, absolutely dying at what his mouth and fingers are doing to me.

"Look at me." I looked down, and Armando was staring up at me, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to force myself to keep my eyes open as he went back to eating me out.

He wrapped his lips around my clit, and softly sucked on it, with his fingers still moving in and out of me. I softly cried out his name as I came. No longer being able to hold myself back.

Once he was done, he stood up, pulling my uniform pants up along with him. His beard was just soaked with my juices, and fuck, how did that make him even hotter?

He kissed me, and I groaned at the taste of myself on his lips. His cock was hard, and I could feel it between us. "Please, Armando." I begged him already knowing what I was going to ask.

"Not enough time, querida." Armando was right. He always is.

◆

I am no longer on the night shift, as it changes every week. So, being around Armando during the day and pretending that nothing going on between us is a lot harder than I knew it would be.

He was on bathroom duty, and I knew which one he should be in at this time, and I had to check on him anyways.

He was just heading into the washroom now, and I followed in right behind him, which is nothing out of the ordinary as we randomly check on the inmates anyway.

No one was in the washroom, and Armando looked up as he heard my foot steps.

We didn't say anything as I got on my knees and pulled down his pants, knowing how risky this is, when anyone could walk in on us.

I wrapped my hand around his hardening cock, and kissed the tip. I looked up at him as he looked down at me as I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock.

I heard him mutter something in under his breath, but I didn't catch it. His hands went to the back of my head, the mop falling next to me.

"Fuck, wish I could savour this." Armando groaned.

I pulled my head back, his cock dropping from my mouth. "Fuck my mouth. I can take it, Armando." I took his cock back in my mouth, just as his hands went to the back of my head.

I put my hands on his thighs just as he pulled his hips back and thrust back into my mouth.

Armando fucked my mouth, using my throat for his pleasure, and I wanted nothing more than to reach between my thighs and play with myself at this very moment.

I had tears streaming down my face, but I didn't care. I needed for him to cum, and I could tell by how his pace was faltering, that he was close.

A few more hard thrusts, and then he stilled, grunted my name as he came. I closed my eyes as I quickly swallowed, not wanting to miss a single drop of it.

Armando finally pulled out, and I was trying to catch my breath.

I heard a noise outside, and I quickly stood up, trying to fix myself.

"Better go angel." Was all he said, giving no indication if he liked the blowjob I gave him.

I left the washroom, feeling used.

◆

I called out sick for the week, just to wrap my head around what I was doing. I needed time away from Armando.

I came back as the shifts switched, and I am back on night shift.

I am making my rounds when I walk past his cell. "Guard." He called out, and I stopped.

"Yes, Aretas?"

"Gotta go." Was all he said.

"Has no one been in yet?" He shook his head no, and I sighed as I had him put his hands through the bars to put cuffs on him.

We walked in silence, and I undid his cuffs, knowing he wasn't going to harm me. As he opened the door, he looked to left, then to the right, and grabbed my hand to pull me in behind him.

Once we were alone, I looked everywhere beside him. "Are you going to look at me, querida?"

"Do not call me that."

"What did I do?" I finally looked at him, and I, with how he was looking at me, I wanted to forgive him, but I held my ground.

"What did you do? Really? I blow you, and then you don't even look at me after." His gaze seemed to soften.

"I was nervous about us being caught. I know you heard the noise that day. Me getting caught is no big deal, but you," He sighed but continued. "I was worried about you being caught."

"Oh." That is all I could say.

"Come on now, querida, give me a kiss." I couldn't resist him anymore. He cupped my face, kissing me.

Our kiss started off soft, but then it deepened.

Armando started to pull at my clothes, and I did the same with him, until we were finally naked for the first time in front of one another.

I looked him up and down, and he did the same with me.

"We will have to be quiet." I told him as he wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me flush against his body.

"I can be quiet. Can you?" That sounded like a challenge.

◆

I was biting Armando's shoulder as he fucked me against the sink. I couldn't think straight as he thrusted in and out of me.

Armando was bigger than any man I have ever been with. My legs were wrapped around his waist, my hands gripping hid back. Grunts fell from his mouth, and I could hardly make out what he was saying, and what I did make out, it was in Spanish.

One of his hands gripped the back of my head, pulling my head from his shoulder. He captured my lips once more with his. One hard thrust, and him grinding against my pussy, making me squeal into the kiss.

"You gonna cum for me? I can feel you. Pussy just squeezing me."

"Armando." I moaned. His pace got faster. He was close as well.

"Come on, I need you to cum." His sounded desperate, wanting me to finish before him.

"Faster." I whined, and he delivered, fucking me so hard and fast that it felt like he was trying to become one with me.

I placed my face in his chest and moaned his name as I came. My pussy spasming around his cock as he fucked me through my orgasm.

"Where?" I told him inside, as I kissed him once more.

He stilled, the two of us moaning into the kiss as he came.

He pulled back and leaned his forehead against mine. "Time to go back." I said to him. He sighed but nodded his head in agreement.

I got dressed and went back outside to stand guard. Another guard came walking down the hall. "Everything okay?" He asked me, as he stopped in front of me.

"All good, Tobin." I told him. "Just waiting for Aretas to be done. The toilet in his cell isn't fixed yet."

"Yeah, they keep saying that someone will come in and fix it, but no one has come yet."

He left just as Armando came out of the washroom. I put the cuffs back on him, and the two of us walked back to his cell.

"Good night, Armando." I said to him as I locked the cell.

"Good night, querida." He said as he put his hands through the bars, leaning against it. He held his hand out, and I saw that he had something in his hand.

I took the paper and placed it in my pocket, going back to doing my job.

Once I was on my break, I pulled the note out of my pocket.

'Wait for me.' A.A.

I'll wait for you, Armando.

Part 2

#bad boys 4 #bad boys imagine #bad boys fic #armando aretas x f/reader #armando aretas fanfic #armando aretas imagine #armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #armando aretas x female reader #armando aretas x you #armando Aretas x y/n #armando Aretas bad boys

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devil-doms · 2 years ago

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When MC dies

AN: whoops, i kinda went back and forth between them finding out in the moment and how they act in the long run. my bad

Lucifer:

He buries himself in work, even taking part in Diavolos papers. He acts like he’s fine, humans are supposed to die. This was normal. He wants to convince himself that he was fine. He stares at the paperwork, waiting for words to appear onto his paper, but nothing was happening. Why wasn't anything showing up? A tear rolled down his cheek, he couldn’t convince himself any longer. His pride was broken. He tries to get himself together before mentally preparing himself to tell his brothers.

Mammon:

He pretends it didn’t happen. You are still very much alive and well. He will still call your number to listen to your voicemail message. That’s how he knows you’re okay, your voice is there. How could you talk if you were dead? He sits there as he processes what he’s doing, he breaks out in loud sobs. He couldn't be there for his human, he couldn't see them, and now its too late. No amount of grimm could make him feel better, there was no price tag on you. As his first, you could never be replaced.

Levi:

He tries to comfort himself. He orders your favorite snacks, watches the animes you watched together, he curls up with his body pillow and thinks of it as you. He hugs it and talks to it as if you’re still there and listening to him. He hasn’t left him room is weeks, his brothers don’t bother to force him to leave because they want to do the same thing. He wants to go to you to talk about it, he knew he could always go to you. Every time he thinks that, he reaches for his phone to message you, then he remembers that he is on his own this time.

Satan:

Rage. He completely loses his composure and destroys everything around him. He throws his books around, knocks everything off his desk, punches the wall, his anger was clouding his vision. He goes to rip one of his pillows from his bed when he catches a glimpse of a cat plushie you had gotten for him. He could feel you looking at him through the plush. His eyes swell with tears and he drops to the floor.

Asmo:

His heart drops. The one person he loved more than himself…was dead…? He pulls a Levi and hides himself in his room. He completely lets himself go, he doesn’t do makeup, wash his face, do his hair. His nail polish was chipped and his skin was breaking out. He stares at your photos together and zooms in on your face. He begins crying seeing your beautiful, smiling face.

Beel:

“No, not again…” He thinks to himself. He knows humans can’t live forever but he thought maybe you could. That you were different. He goes to the kitchen and does the only thing he knows what to do, eat. It doesn’t help, it’s not working. He just feels empty. He goes to your room to feel surrounded by you when he sees Belphie in your bed. He comforts his younger brother once again, he knew this feeling all too well.

Belphie:

He wears one of your hoodies and curls up into your bed. He pulls your blankets up over his head, surrounding himself with your scent. He sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps, waiting for the day you wake him up. Waiting for you to tell him he’s running late. Waiting for you to yell at him for missing your date. Waiting for you to comfort him. He knows deep down it’ll never happen again, and he’ll be forever waiting.

#:)#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #💜

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kill-the-hand-of-shakespeare · 9 months ago

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“We’re just two slow dancers.

Last ones out.”

—

The bookshop was a mess of scattered books and toppled furniture. Pages fell from the upstairs landing and flittered to the floor seemingly in slow motion. It was eerily quiet.

The last place on earth.

It will end, as it started, in a garden. And not the garden of Eden- where god had begun it. No. The last place on earth; that was now fire and molten lava, was the bookshop- a garden of knowledge. And Crowley stared at it from his place on the floor, defeated.

He had done everything. He had tried to stop the second coming with everything he had, but it was all futile. He was half of a whole, always had been. His other half, who had abandoned him, was across the room staring at the mess he’d made.

The demon could see the gears turning in the angel’s mind. See the way his fingers shook where they were pressed against his lips; how his head turned and gaze flicked quickly around the space, mimicking an animal of prey. How he stumbled about and muttered under his breath, unsteady in every sense of the word. He watched an exhale leave him like Azira had been punched in the gut when he looked to where Nina’s shop had once been, and instead was met with the vision of flames and hot liquid from middle earth.

Crowley could see the cracks forming on porcelain skin, and refused to watch him break. The Angel didn’t deserve an audience.

He took a long swig from the bottle of red in his hand- it tasted shit, but got the job done on numbing the hole that was growing in his chest from his emotional turmoil.

He let his head fall back and hit the wall, press into it like his back was doing, and pulled his knees up closer to his chest.

Closing his eyes tight, he listened to the Archangel shuffle around the bookshop and whisper to himself. He couldn’t make it out, but it was something along the lines of ‘What have I done? She wouldn’t want this... this... this wasn’t the plan... this... this isn’t what was supposed to happen.’

Crowley kept his eyes closed. The shuffles grew closer, and soon enough he felt a vibration through the wall as Aziraphale fell against it and slid down to the ground heavily.

They were quiet. Crowley swallowed hard. He could feel Aziraphale holding his breath, and that only meant one thing.

He didn’t flinch when he Angel let out a quiet sob.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked to the Angel on his right, seeing his face turned away from Crowley. The Angel needed to be close- maybe for comfort, but was too embarrassed to look at his once friend- maybe even lover. He couldn’t let Crowley see the hot tears fall down his pain-twisted face.

Crowley sighed through his nose and set the bottle down on his left, before he reached up slowly and took off his glasses, setting them beside the bottle. He looked at Aziraphale for a moment and he took in a breath, clearing his throat. He smelt the smoke seeping into the bookshop. Tasted it.

“Aziraphale, look at me.” He said, his voice hoarse from yelling pleads to cease the chaos as the world went to ruins. The Angel shook his head and let a quiet wail leave him, hands bunched tight in his lap.

“Angel...” the word made Aziraphale almost gag, Crowley could see the lurch of his chest and stomach.

“Angel, please look at me...” Crowley asked again, and the begging tone in his voice wasn’t his choice- his body did it on its own. The pain in Aziraphale’s cries made his heart pang with guilt. Aziraphale wiped his face and turned to look at Crowley, even if it was useless- the tears kept flowing, quick and hot.

They stared at eachother for a moment, Aziraphale frantically searching Crowley’s eyes for something - anything to make this better.

“I-I’m so sorry, Crowley. I didn’t... I didn’t think... This is all my fault.” He said, looking away from Crowley to look at the bookshop, to the shadows of flames dancing on the yellow walls. Yellow he had once found cheery. Yellow like eyes of his most loved person. Yellow of home. “I did this...” he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “This is my doing...” he sobbed.

Crowley tongued his cheek and nodded slowly, looking around. He couldn’t deny it, he wouldn’t try. His hurt was too loud in his ears now- roaring like the flames licking at the bookshop doors. He chewed at his lip and jutted his chin, letting his gaze work back to Aziraphale. He looked so small. So scared. He too, was defeated. No one won a war when there was no prize, no reason truly to fight... Aziraphale knew that just as well as Crowley. And the demon’s hurt couldn’t form hatred, or anger. It would be so much easier if it did. But nothing ever came easy.

“Angel, my Angel, look at me...” he asked again, and when he held pale blue gaze, he just reached up and gently cupped the angels cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered again, stuttering in a breath. Crowley only nodded, and gave a sad smile.

“I forgive you.”

—

OOUF! Just a little piece from my mind after looking at @drunkenmantis works tonight. Goodnight! 🤗😈

#aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens2 #aziracrow #good omens fanfiction #azicrow #good omens 3 #good omens theory #sorry not sorry

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matt-erialgirl · 3 years ago

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If You Kiss Me Now

This piece was inspired by this prompt from @star-spangled-man :

Heidi my love I need to talk about cleaning up wounds, but specifically on the face. How intimate it is. How gentle you have to be, slowly tracing their features, gently holding their face. Like okay, what about being super close friends with matt but nothing as ever happened between you two. You've been friends since forever and that unspoken thing between the two of you- you've both chosen to just accept it but never admit out loud. But this time is different. He can feel your heartbeat, it is always a little more paced when you're around him, he's just accepted that as the normal between you two. But this time it's different..

This was painful to write but an absolute joy all the same! I want to thank Paige for the prompt, Kat (@freshabogados) for reading my shitty work in progresses and cheering me on and my favourite king of all time, Ezra (@catholicdaredevil) for their invaluable input and hyping me up 👌🏻👌🏻

Warnings: just some tending to wounds, pining and assumed unrequited love, confessions and feelings, tears - lots of tears.

Word count: ~4.1K

Friday nights are your favourite. Maybe it’s the fact that you knew you didn’t have to worry about going to work the next day, or maybe it’s that you could stay up as late as you wanted.

Regardless, it’s your favourite night of the week.

This Friday night is somewhat quieter than usual. You’re curled up at the end of your bed, head dangling off the edge as you hold a copy of The Alchemist up to your face - eyes scanning the words, page by page. You’ve read this book so many times, you could stare up at the ceiling instead and recite the dialogue if you wanted to.

Your eyes start to wander from your book and land on the clock on your wall, struggling to make sense of the roman numerals upside down.

Quarter past two.

He’s late.

Your brows furrow as you roll over to your front, your head turning to look out your open window as a gentle breeze teases your curtains. Worry begins to slowly fill your chest as you put your book aside and push yourself off the bed. You hurriedly make your way to the window and lean against the sill, your palms going cold. Your eyes scan the empty street below, the fire escape ladder against the exterior wall of your building, the roof of the lower buildings around you.

He’s never late.

You huff, sinking down to the floor on your knees as you rest your chin on your hand against the window sill. You continue to gaze outside, letting the gentle night air kiss your skin and tousle your hair. Being by the window is the closest you can be to him right now, and you don’t mind how uncomfortable it is or how long it takes for him to get here. You just want to feel as close to him as possible.

You start to wonder where he is, what is keeping him. If he’s okay. Whether he’s hurt or not, whether he’s the one throwing the punches or the one taking them. With a heavy sigh, you decide to do your best to keep the most positive thoughts in your mind, too afraid of manifesting your worst fears into existence.

As time passes and the minutes of waiting become hours, you drift off to sleep in your position by the window, your head on the sill, and your body slumped against the wall underneath it. You just can't bring yourself to give up and go back to your comfortable bed.

Yours and Matt’s history goes back for decades. You met as children in the park while he was out with an organised group from the orphanage. You had your dog with you and your mother was watching you from her seat at one of the benches around the grassy area.

“Hey,” Matt had said as he approached you, his glasses hiding his eyes and his auburn hair gently moving across his forehead as the breeze hit it, “your dog is sick. I just wanted you to know so you can help him.”

“What?” You had asked in confusion, your hands going down to pet your dog, “Casper isn’t sick. We’ve been playing all afternoon.”

“I’m telling you that he is,” Matt shrugged, “I can also tell that you love him a lot, so you should take him to the vet or something.”

Distraught, ten-year-old you hurried back to your mother, dragging Casper behind you while you yelled for her.

After a string of “how would he know, sweetheart?” and “Casper’s fine”, your mother gave in to your cries and took you and Casper straight to the vet from the park.

Matt was right. Casper was dying and you just didn’t know.

The next time you were at the park, you made sure to seek Matt out and thank him. You took him with you to get ice cream as a little show of gratitude and you had been inseparable ever since.

You were the first actual friend he had ever made, the first one he told about his abilities.

In fact, you were each other’s many firsts.

You were each other’s first kiss on his 16th birthday.

“I don’t think we should be down here,” you whispered as he led the way down into the church’s crypt, the two of you had snuck away from mass on a beautiful Sunday morning.

“Yet here you are,” he teased, gesturing with his hands at you following him anyway.

You huffed out a laugh and shoved his shoulder before looking around. Your eyes took in the space around you, the sculptures, the sun filtering in, him.

“It’s nice down here,” you said softly, as your eyes found Matt and watched a smile spread across his face.

“I come here when I want to be alone,” he told you, putting his hands out in presentation of the space around him, “it’s my spot.”

“Well, now it’s my spot too,” you laughed, taking a seat on a bench against the wall, Matt joining you soon after.

“I think that’s more than okay,” he said, “I don’t mind you coming down here to be alone or to come sit with me. I think I’d want you to.”

You hummed in response, suddenly aware of how close to you he was sitting, your right thigh and arm against his left.

“What did you get me this year?” Matt asked, breaking the silence and turning his head to face you with a toothy grin that made you blush, “your heart’s beating really fast. Did you forget?”

“No,” you laughed to cover up your flustered state, “I got you a present but it’s upstairs in mum’s car.”

“But,” you said quickly, “there’s something else I want to give you.”

“What’s that?” Matt asked, curiosity lacing his words as he heard your heart jump in your chest again.

“A kiss?” You said to him softly, pink tinging your cheeks as you leaned closer to him, your face radiating heat against his, “can I kiss you, Matt?”

Matt didn’t wait to answer your question with another word, he just held on to both your hands in response and pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

It was short, sweet and innocent, leaving you both an embarrassed and giggly mess. But you never let go of each other’s hands.

You never really dated, but you stayed closer than ever. You helped him out of the pits of despair when he couldn’t get out by himself and he watched over you constantly to make sure nothing and no one ever hurt you.

When the time came around, you applied to the same universities, hoping to get accepted into the same ones.

Matt’s offer letter to get into Columbia Law came first, leaving you ecstatic for him for getting the school he wanted but also breaking your heart in two at the thought of not going with him. He reassured you you’d get one the next day and he was right.

You were both accepting Columbia’s offer and going together.

Being in different classes and having different schedules did not come between you. It just made you work harder to make the time to see each other. You helped him study for his exams and he helped you pin your work up in the studio before a critique.

Throughout university, your feelings for Matt changed. You started to realise that he wasn’t just your closest friend; you wanted more with him. You wanted to be the one he’d hold in the night and wake up to every morning. You wanted to openly be in love with him and he you. Your realisation came a little too late though, because Matt had already met his perfect match, Elektra.

In the hopes of not losing your friendship, you stifled your feelings and stuck around for Matt, even though he made it difficult from then on. He started choosing to disappear with Elektra instead of coming to see you. He would go for days at a time and come back like it wasn’t a big deal.

While it did break your heart that he was choosing her over you, you had never seen him happier and you could never get in the way of that. So, you swallowed your sadness and disappointment and continued to be there for him anyway. And when she left him, you were there to pick up the pieces.

You graduated together, too. The best part was that given you were in different schools, you graduated on different days. So, when Matt was graduating, you were in the crowd. You cheered and clapped and whistled. And when you graduated, he did the same, your parents next to him as they cheered for you together.

And coming back home, you came back together.

And when he started to go out in the night as Daredevil, you were the first to know.

You never opposed him, knowing he would go do it anyway. Instead, you just begged him to be careful and not forget that he’s human and humans are mortal.

Every night at one, he stopped by your open bedroom window and hopped in to let you know that he was okay. That was your deal.

So, tonight, worry is eating at your heart. And you’re not going to move away from the window until he jumps in.

Eventually, you feel yourself being lifted off the floor, your eyes blinking open and your arms thrashing about in panic until you hear his soft voice in your ear.

“Hey, hey shh,” he whispers to you as he carries you over to your bed, “it’s me. I’m so sorry, I’m late -- I know.”

Your body relaxes as you exhale, throwing your arms around him as soon as he puts you down on the bed, keeping him hunched over you. The smell of blood and dirt floods your nose and sends your mind reeling, eyes still clouded with sleep.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, your hands going up into his hair as you pull back, examining his face and finding gashes by his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, “Jesus, Matt. You’re hurt.”

“I know,” he tells you gently, wrapping his fingers around your arms and pulling them down, “tonight was a little rough, but I took care of it.”

“Clearly,” you start, the sleepy haze long gone now, “you were also taken care of.”

Matt huffs out a laugh as he drops down to sit on the floor, not wanting to dirty your sheets, “you’re always so funny, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be right now,” you sigh, studying his tired frame slumping against your wall on the floor, head thrown back against the wallpaper and blood trickling slowly down the side of his face, “I need to clean you up. Stay here.”

You have patched Matt up several times before, times when he looked a lot worse than he does tonight. But that doesn’t stop your heart from shaking in your chest as you gather everything you need from your bathroom. You hate it when he’s hurt, almost like you can somehow feel every bit of pain he’s feeling. You’re glad, however, that he always comes to find you after, because you never want him to have to patch himself up and be by himself after having his ass handed to him.

You go back out to your bedroom, gently dropping the items you collected from your bathroom before plopping down next to Matt yourself.

“Okay,” you breathe, looking him over and crossing your legs, “are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Not terribly,” he shrugs, his hand subconsciously ghosting over his side.

“Let me see,” you urge, pushing his hand away from his body and pulling on the hem of his black top.

“At least take me to dinner first,” Matt scoffs with a smile that makes your heart jump in your throat.

He heard it, you know he did. The way his head tilts to the side gives him away and warms your cheeks up in embarrassment.

“Ha ha,” you mock him, taking in a deep breath and focusing on slowing your heart, “just show me, Matt.”

Matt gingerly reaches for the hem of his top and pulls it over his head. You avert your gaze immediately, too worried your heart would lurch into your throat again at the sight of him. After drawing a deep breath, you turn to look at him slowly, your eyes landing on a mean purple bruise forming on his side.

“God, Matty,” you say, your voice softening as you lean in to examine the damage, “this looks horrible.”

“You should see the other guy,” Matt chuckles, trying to lighten the mood and keep you out of the hole of distress you always fall into when you patch him up. He hates nothing more than bringing his pain to you, but selfishly, he never wants anything besides your soft touches against his skin and your gentle voice in his ears after a night like the one he’s just had.

You sigh audibly, grabbing the instant cold compress bag and crushing it to activate it.

“Those can’t be good for the environment,” Matt remarks playfully, wincing when you press the cold pack against his bruise before he holds it in place.

“I don’t have a freezer in my fridge,” you remind him, rolling your eyes at his following tsk of disapproval, “alright, so my apartment isn’t LEED certified, counselor. I know you live in a dark apartment and you’re contributing to reducing the human carbon footprint but you can’t just … come into my home, bleed on my carpet and tell me oh, this is bad for the environment.”

“I love when you get angry with me over these little things,” Matt chuckles lightly, shifting to get more comfortable against the wall as you come closer with a cotton pad saturated with alcohol, “it’s cute.”

“You love getting on my nerves, that’s what you love,” you mumble, pushing yourself up on your knees and moving even closer, almost pressing your front against Matt’s arm and towering over him slightly, “take a deep breath; these will sting.”

He hums in response, listening to your even breathing and your racing heart. Matt always dismissed the sound of your racing heart while you patched him up as nerves, not wanting to hurt him or your distaste for blood. But tonight feels different. He heard it when your heart skipped a beat or two at things he was saying, or when you turned away as soon as his top was off. He knows something else is on your mind and he has a hunch that it’s got nothing to do with his wounds.

Gently, almost hesitantly, you start dabbing the soaked cotton against the cut by Matt’s eyebrow. Your left hand finds its way up to cradle his cheek and you can’t decide whether it’s to hold his head steady or to just feel his skin against yours.

Matt hisses as soon as you press against the cut, making you jump slightly and pull your hand away.

“Don’t be a baby, please,” you whine, going back in to clean the cut, “I’m trying very hard not to hurt you.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, a smile playing on his lips, “you know, I love how gentle you are while doing this. It’s such a contrast to the way I got these cuts. It’s comforting.”

Your eyes flutter at his words as you look down at him, your heart twisting in your chest.

“I wish you didn’t get hurt like this. I hate it when you’re hurt.”

All Matt can feel now is your warmth against his arm and shoulder, your hand gently cradling his cheek, your breath fanning across his face. With a deep inhale and his eyes drifting shut, Matt listens to your heart to ground himself. The gentle dub-dub of your heart always kept him centred. Unbeknownst to you, Matt’s had your heartbeat memorised since you were kids. That was how he always found you at the park, or how he located you in the crowded university library. It’s easily his favourite sound; that and your voice.

With a sigh leaving your lips, you angle Matt’s head back slightly to face you so you can see the cuts lower on his face. Your fingers linger at his jaw as his eyes flutter open, almost meeting yours. Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at him, your soul getting lost in the warmth of his eyes. Almost off their own accord, your fingers move slowly, rubbing along Matt’s jaw. With your heart hammering in your chest, you lean down.

Matt holds his breath as he feels you invade his senses, the scent of your hair consuming him as you lean down, your thumbs still running with a feather light touch against his stubbled chin. His eyes fall shut again as soon as your lips touch him a hair away from the broken skin on his face, basking in the warmth it spreads through him.

You quiet your reeling mind as you press one gentle kiss after the other against his warm skin. By the cut on his temple, his eye, his cheek. Your eyes dart to the cut on his lower lip, your skin buzzing with anticipation and fear of the implications of your actions. Tentatively, you lower your head again, ghosting your lips over his before pressing the softest of kisses against the corner of his mouth.

As though you’ve been jostled awake, you snap yourself away from Matt, almost like his skin burnt to touch. The anxiety and the stress of what you have just done tearing at you immediately. You don’t want to drive him away, to lose him.

This isn’t what we are.

This isn’t what he wants.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, dropping your hands to plant them against his shoulders, his silence terrifying you, “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t ha–”

Matt’s hand shoots up to wrap around the back of your neck, the cold compress against his side long forgotten now. He brings your face down to his again, brushing his nose against yours gently before whispering the words you never expected to hear, with his lips just a hair away from yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t only hear his question, no, you also feel it against your lips with how close he is to you.

“If you kiss me now,” you whisper, your hands finding their way back to his jaw, your hair falling down around the two of you, “you have to keep me. I can’t handle getting a taste of you and not being able to be with you, Matt.”

Matt’s heart thrashes in his chest as he listens to you, your voice soft and timid. Your statement catches him off guard, his mind going a thousand miles a minute as he tries to wrap his head around your words.

You want him. And you want him for good.

“Please, Matt,” you breathe out, your voice shaking and tears stinging your eyes as they gather at the corners, thinking that’s it - he doesn’t want to be around you anymore, “say something– anything to me.”

Without a word, Matt’s hands travel lower and pull you over him so you’re no longer hovering over him. He pulls you down so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands around your waist and yours against his bare chest.

“Why are you crying?” Matt finally speaks, his voice gentle and warm as he reaches up to wipe the tears from under your eyes.

“Because I can’t imagine my life without you,” you confess, your voice breaking, “I- I try so hard. So hard, Matt. To act like I’m not withering without your touch on my skin. To pretend that I’m not the most alive when I’m with you. I’ve been so afraid of losing you. So afraid of my feelings pushing you away from me.”

Matt’s loss for words draws a sob out of your chest, even though you have no idea what really is happening in his head. Your fingers spread out against the warm skin of his chest, soft sniffles leaving you as you wait, patiently. Hoping he had something to say.

Anything.

“You have no idea,” Matt starts, his fingers traveling to tuck your hair behind your ears, “how long I’ve wanted to say these same things to you. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Your eyes widen, still glassed over with tears, looking into his own as he speaks while your heart hanmers against your chest, “why not?”

Matt lets out a strained laugh, his eyes cast down, almost as though he’s avoiding your gaze.

“I’ve always wanted nothing but the best for you. You deserve nothing less. Ever since we were kids, all I wanted was to keep you safe and see that you get the best of everything. That applies to whom you end up with. I always prayed that you would fall in love with the right person despite my feelings for you. I never felt like I was right for you because I fall short on so many ends and you don’t deserve that. I’ll put you in harm’s way, I’ll cause you stress and pain, I’ll be more of a liability to you than anything else. And you don’t deserve a life like that. You deserve someone who can give you everything, keep you safe, love you endlessly.”

“And you can’t do that?” You ask impatiently, hating how little he thinks of himself, “you can’t give me everything? Keep me safe? Love me endlessly? Huh, Matt?”

Matt swallows the lump in his throat, already feeling like he’s being crushed under the pressure of opening up to you like this. Exposing his heart to you.

“I don’t deserve to,” Matt breathes, his own eyes glazing over with tears as he looks up in your general direction, “I am not a good man. I am not what you deserve. I am not—”

“You are all I want,” you cut him off, your hands reaching up to cradle his face in your palms, “you are all I’ve ever wanted, Matthew. I won’t ever want anyone else. It’s you or no one.”

Matt’s breath catches in his throat at your words, his heart aching at the conflict in his mind. He knows he loves you enough to do absolutely anything for you, he can’t imagine his life without you in it. Your touch lights his skin on fire and your voice breathes life into him. He knows how wrapped up he is in you but he doesn’t believe that he deserves to have you. He thinks he’d taint you.

“Matty, please,” you whispered, drawing closer and pushing your forehead against his, your palms still against his cheeks, “I need this. I need to love you unapologetically. Let me, please.”

You were begging him at this point. Your voice desperate, your hands holding on to him as though if you’d let go, he would disappear. You need him. That’s it. You’re done dancing around him and hiding away. You’re done stifling your feelings and burying your love for him.

“I promise you,” Matt vows, his voice steady and firm, his hands going up to cradle your head in his palms as his fingers bury themselves in your hair as you stay forehead to forehead, “I will do everything I can and more to keep you safe. I will love you with every fibre of my being. I will never ever hurt you. I want you to remember these promises.”

“I will,” you nod quickly, your breath leaving you in hurried puffs as you listen to him.

Matt’s fingers tighten against the base of your head, pulling you closer until your lips meet his in the softest kiss. Cinnamon and salt, that’s what he tastes like on your tongue. Your hands travel to bury your fingers in his hair as he kisses you deeper, taking your breath away and sending your mind into a hazy spiral.

“I love you,” he exhales as he breaks the kiss with a soft hum, his voice soft and sincere, “I love you an unquantifiable amount. I always have. Always will.”

“I love you, Matthew,” you say to him too, your heart feeling ten times larger with the built up affection and pure unadulterated love you have for him, “that will never change.”

tags: @fluffyprettykitty @foggywells @velvetcloxds @carters-things @kayxvii @freshabogados @star-spangled-man @catholicdaredevil @shedaresthedevil @hellothere-generalangsty @sobachka-korol @daredalek @criedegg @1800-fight-me @mattmurdocksshapelyass @e-dubbc11

#Matt murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #daredevil fluff

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years ago

Note

Hello can I request where draco in fourth year having a crush on a hufflepuff reader but acts as arsehole cuz he doesn’t know how to show affection , leading it to her avoiding him which makes him depressed about what did he do wrong ?

Hi love. Thanks for the request.💕

I love writing Draco x hufflepuff!reader stories! I am a sucker for a slytherin x hufflepuff pairing.

I added a few extra details here and here. Hope you like it. X

Hopeful (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Word count: 2100 sorry got a bit carried away. 😅

Warnings: None. Soft!Draco being an absolute blubbering idiot.

Draco’s thoughts are written in green

Spring had arrived.

It could be felt in the cool and gentle zephyr that made the shiny new leaves on top of the once barren and dead trees rustle.

Daisies were in full bloom and the wind had managed to carry some of the petals away—making them fall to the ground, acting like a harbinger of the fast approaching summer.

Draco couldn’t be bothered if it was spring, or autumn or winter.

In that particular moment, all he wanted to do was get away from the Slytherin common room and Pansy Parkinson.

He had taken her to the Yule ball and things had sort of fizzled out afterwards. He couldn’t get himself to see her as anything other than a friend.

Having ran all the way to a far and secluded area of the Hogwarts grounds, Draco leaned against a tree trunk and panted heavily in an attempt to catch his breath.

“Are you—are you alright?”

Your voice startled him and he quickly stood up straight to look around.

You were sitting criss-crossed on the grass with your transfigurations textbook opened on your lap. Your shirt sleeves were rolled up and your yellow and black tie hugged very loosely around your neck.

“Fine.” He muttered as he slowly sat down noticing a single daisy tucked behind your ears.

After sitting there in complete silence for the next few minutes, he finally spoke up.

“What are you even doing here anyway?”

“Just wanted some peace and quiet to be honest.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Draco just hummed in response and kept staring at the daisy in your hair that swayed lightly with the breeze.

“What?” You asked when you noticed.

“You have—you have a twig stuck in your hair.”

“A daisy.” You corrected him as you closed your book and moved a bit closer to where he was sitting. “It’s a daisy.”

“Yeah I know that. I’m not stupid.” He said quickly. “But why?”

"Well, Daisies are essentially two flowers blended together in complete harmony." You said pulling the daisy out of your free falling hair before putting your hand forward to hand it to him.

“And?” Draco reluctantly took the flower from you and blinked his eyes in confusion.

“They are said to resemble innocence—true love even.” You explained getting comfortable next to him.

“You believe in all that?” Draco scoffed, twirling the flower between his index finger and thumb. He couldn’t tell if the floral fragrance was coming from you or the air but it made him slightly queasy nonetheless.

“Merlin. No.” You scrunched up your nose. “It just gives me hope I guess.”

Draco gave you another hum in response. For someone who came up with snarky and sometimes witty comments on the spot, he found himself weirdly tongue tied.

“I know you were hiding from Pansy by the way.” You remarked, making a small smile pull at his lips.

“How come?”

“What do you mean how come?” You rolled your eyes. “Everyone can see that she is obsessed with you for some reason that I personally can't seem to comprehend.”

~~~~~

The next day during potions class, Draco slowly opened his book and started to absently doodle on it with his quill while Snape talked about the upcoming potions essay that had to be done in pairs.

Draco knew he should be paying attention but he just couldn’t get the interaction between you two out of his head.

And just when he took a deep breath and decided to focus, a familiar scent started to fill his lungs up.

Fruity, almost spicy notes of strawberry and pink grapefruit mixed with gardenias, vanilla and musk. It felt like someone had tossed a huge bouquet into the room.

He knew it was you without even bothering to look up from my book.

"Ah, Miss y/l/n. Late again." Snape muttered. “Five points from Hufflepuff house.”

You quietly sat down next to your friend with your head hung low and Draco fought an unexplainable urge to give you a hug.

"The essay must be done in pairs.." Snape said.

Great.

"Ronald Weasley and Gregory Goyle."

This is exactly what I needed right now. Thanks Snape.

"Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abott."

The last thing I need is someone weighing my essay down.

"Draco Malfoy and y/n y/l/n."

What?

You turned back to look at Draco and gave him an apologetic smile and he didn't understand why you kept smiling at him. It's not like the both of you had suddenly formed an unlikely bond with each other.

Draco scowled at you in return and quickly raised his hand. "May I work on my essay alone?"

"No. You may not Mr. Malfoy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Draco had been studying in the library for almost an hour. Because you were quietly sitting next to him, his elbows and knees slightly brushed yours every few seconds and as much as he hated to admit it, He secretly enjoyed it.

Contrary to yesterday, Draco was trying very hard to make a conversation with you. You seemed somewhat offended that he had asked Snape to work on the essay alone.

“I am happy to do most of the writing if you can look up all the ingredients.” You offered.

You don’t have to do all of that yourself. I am happy to help with the writing too. Is what he should have said.

“Fine whatever.” He said instead as he reached for a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

That night, Draco stayed up tossing and turning in his bed before giving up on getting any sleep for the night.

He lethargically walked towards his dresser and put his hands in his blazer pocket pulling out the now dried and pressed daisy from the other day.

Taking a deep breath, he put the flower in between the pages of his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

You were drawing him in, undoing him, unraveling him even.

He knew that.

But did you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Draco! Open up."

His head jolted towards the door and He quickly walked over to open it.

You stood on the other end with books tucked in your arms, wearing your denim shorts and a plain white tank top—looking like summer personified.

The more time he spent with you, the more he started to notice your quirks. Like that the way your skin glowed as the days got warmer.

Compliment her. Do it. It’s not Difficult.

“Did you do something different to your hair?”

“Uh—no why are you asking.”

“It just looks a bit strange.” He commented wanting to slap himself.

"Okay, well are you going to let me in?" You questioned, wondering why he was blocking the way and asking you about your hair.

Why did you have to wear that God damned tank top-

"Sorry?" You asked stepping inside making his cheeks burn when he realized he wasn’t meaning to say that out loud.

"Just shut up and get back to working in the essay or whatever it is that you were doing." Draco grumbled feeling embarrassed as he grabbed some fresh parchment.

Okay. Focus. The Strengthening solution requires...

You stretched a little and pushed your hair away from your face.

several days to mature...

"Staring is rude Draco." You suddenly interrupted his thoughts as you set your eyes on his—peering right into his soul.

Draco felt like he was giving you some sort of power over him and the possibility of you using that power and leaving him heartbroken made him feel so very vulnerable.

He couldn't take the vulnerability a second longer.

"I don't think we should study together anymore." He blurted quickly standing up. “It's for the best.”

"Huh?" You stood up contorting your face in total confusion—wondering just what you had done to piss him off. "What's wrong Draco? Did I do something wrong?"

"Leave. Now." He muttered with his teeth clenched.

Please don’t go.

"Just go—leave please."

You couldn’t help but feel a sharp sting burning your insides as you gathered all the books that were on the floor and ran made your way towards hufflepuff dormitories with tears threatening to flood your eyes.

As soon as you ran off, he punched his wall and muttered out the plethora of angry curses when the impact bruised his knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~~~

During the following week, Draco failed to show up to any of your shared classes after you had refused to talk to him after what happened.

Even if you did manage to see him walking down the halls or walking with Crabbe and Goyle, you noticed that he looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days.

On a Tuesday, Draco looked at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast and when you caught his eye, all you did was look away.

Everyone at school had their opinions about him—most of them weren’t good opinions.

But when you were with him under that tree, he seemed different. His smirk was more playful than condescending. It managed to charm you in a way.

You took a final bite of your toast and gathered all your books, walking to your Potions class.

His seat still remained empty and you shook your head, trying to snap away from the thoughts of him as you flipped open your book.

Only it wasn’t your book.

You didn’t remember writing on the margins and making annotations on your book.

Running your fingertips along the pages, you flipped to the very first page of the book.

D. Malfoy was written in ridiculously neat handwriting and you shook your head when you realized that you had grabbed his book with you that day by mistake.

And just when you were about to put his book away, something fell from in between the pages and fell onto your desk.

It was the daisy you had woven into your hair the other day. Even in its dried state, the petals remained intact like her had done something to keep them that way.

When class was finally over, you made a quick beeline towards the slytherin dungeons, bumping into people along the way.

~~~~~~~~~

“Some hufflepuff girl is standing outside the dungeons asking to see you.” Theo shrugged when he saw Draco at the common room sofa. “Says it's urgent.”

He felt terrified yet so elated as he quickly stood up and made his way outside.

“Here’s your book.” You said taking a step towards him. “You never told me what’s wrong by the way.”

“Thank you.” Draco quickly took his book from you and stared at the ground.

“Why did you stop talking to me y/n?”

“You told me to go away—If I remember correctly.” You said shaking your head at him. “Tell me Draco, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” He said quietly, meeting your gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"You make me feel all weak.....and smiley...and I hate it." He looked at you with agitation.

"Weak?" You ran your fingers through your hair in confusion.

"And your ridiculous white tank top." Draco half yelled.

"What's wrong with my top?" You asked, raising your voice slightly as if you had had enough of this.

"Nothing is wrong except for the fact that you look stunning in it.” He blurted involuntarily. "It is absolutely distracting when one is trying to study!."

He watched you open your mouth in shock and close it. Before he could spend another minute trying to solve the riddle that was your expression, you grabbed him by his tie and placed your lips on his.

His brows furrowed as he kissed you back tenderly. Tasting the sweetness of your lips—pouring out every bit of suppressed passion and adoration he felt for you with his lips.

There was something so strange and euphoric about finally kissing someone he had been longing to kiss for so long.

Something so magical about holding the person that fits perfectly into his arms.

Freaking Finally.

He was slightly disappointed when you slowly backed away, but the glow on your skin and the glossy ness in your eyes made him smile.

"I guess I'll leave before I realize the consequences of what I have just done." You said softly as you held his face and placed a small peck on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you found a tiny box and an envelope on your desk when you woke up. Your roommate let you know that Draco Malfoy had stopped by late last night when you were asleep and half begged and half threatened her to leave the box on your desk.

You slowly opened the box and found a bedazzled and whimsical looking daisy necklace, encrusted with gems.

A Daisy for my daisy.

You give me hope.

- D.M

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco Taglist: @dracomalfoyisindahouse @dracomalfoys-wh0re @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @desiredmalfoy @dlmmdl @trainintersection @fa-me @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @loloo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @louweasleymalfoy @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @thebitchybeatle @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @amwitherspoon @the-bisexual-bitch

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Fell free to send me reuests. My other stories can be found here.

Join my taglist here.

- violet-Anne

#harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #slytherin #draco lucius malfoy #draco one shot #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco fluff

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that-yandere-life · 3 years ago

Text

Sirius Black Quote Prompt: “…Why do you cry?! Who made you cry?! Tell me their fucking names so I can rip their heads off for making my angel cry!!!”

[Warnings: Yandere Themes *Obviously, Hogwarts College AU 18+, Violence, Fighting, descriptions of blood and injuries, Pissed off Sirius.]

Sirius hadn’t been able to get you off of his mind all day, barely seeing you with today being the day you didn’t have many classes together.

Sitting and eating with you at lunch just wasn’t enough to satisfy his craving of being close to you at all times.

Racing out the door as soon as they were dismissed for the day, desperate to find you and seek solitude in your loving embrace.

Sure the guys would say he was whipped if they knew just how badly he had it for you, but part of him doesn’t even think he would truly care if they found out.

Wishing that he could transform into his other half, since it was far faster to run on four legs than it was to run on two.

Reaching the common room, shocked that you weren’t in your usual place next to the fire curled up with one of your books waiting for him.

Hearing some sniffling coming from the bathrooms that sounded way too distinctly like you for it to be a coincidence.

Knocking on the door asking softly if he could come in, praying that you were just coming down with allergies and not crying.

Able to decipher a pained whimper and a barely audible yes before bursting through the door, his worst fears being realized as he saw the heavy tear stains on your cheeks.

The sleeves of your robes soaked from wiping and covering your eyes for whoever knows how long you had been in this state before he found you.

Immediately he goes into offense mode, wanting to know what had happened to make you cry.

“…Why do you cry?! Who made you cry?! Tell me their fucking names so I can rip their heads off for making my angel cry!!!”

While you aren’t particularly surprised that Sirius was upset that you were hurt, it was surprising how fast and ready he was to come to your defense even though he was your boyfriend.

Grabbing you some toilet tissue to blow your nose, and holding some more wiping the tears away gently waiting for you to be ready to tell him.

Trying so hard to remain patient but it was never his strong suit to begin with, especially not now when you are in shambles in front of him.

Heart dropping to his stomach when you told him how Snape had humiliated you in front of your potions class, everyone laughing and poking fun at you after the fact.

Rage boiled beneath his skin, kissing your forehead he promises you that it will never happen again, he would see to that himself.

Before you could ask him what he meant by that he had taken off back out the door, not even bothering to find the guys, he wanted the entirety of the satisfaction of what he was about to do.

Cornering Snape near the dungeons of the Slytherin commons and dorms, slamming him up against the wall despite being shorter than the man.

Screaming about how Snape could insult him, or his friends, but you were to be left out of the bullshit rivalry they had between them.

Gripping his shirt tightly in his hands before tossing him forcefully to the floor, beginning to throw punch after punch into Snape’s face.

Each impact further bloodying and bruising both Sirius’ knuckles and Snape’s flesh until he was yanked off of him by several members of the Slytherin quidditch team.

Loud cracking noises and screaming had carried through the hall and into their earshot beckoning for their assistance.

Snape sitting up, his nose no longer in the right position on his face, blood pouring from his nostrils sure to have two black eyes tomorrow.

Yanking his arms out of the grasps of those that held him he took off back the way he came to where you would likely be waiting for his return.

Stopping off to rinse the blood splattered on his hands from his vicious attack that would likely land him in more trouble than he was used to.

Something inside of him just finally snapped when Snape had the audacity to go after you and involve you in things you had never been a part of just because you were associated with him.

Gazing at his own features in the mirror he couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at the sight of blood splattering his chiseled structure.

Reaching over for a towel attempting to scrub it off without water at first but it had started to dry, making him question just how long he had been standing there after things had transpired.

Splashing the cool liquid running from the sink onto his skin, rushing his fingers over the areas rubbing the spots harshly before patting it dry.

Satisfied with his clean up job he continues back on his way to make sure the love of his life is okay, and reassure you that everyone will think twice before messing with his lover ever again.

[Another quote prompt down from the new set my anon sent in! I hope that you guys like this and that you enjoy the idea! <3]

#yandere sirius black #yandere sirius black x reader #yandere marauders #yandere marauders x reader #dark marauders #dark sirius black #dark sirius black x reader

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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years ago

Note

How about a Loki x reader.. Tony moves his baby sister into the compound after something happens to her but he won’t tell anyone what. She refuses to leave her room until everyone is in bed. She comes out one night and is caught by Loki. She immediately apologizes and becomes so shaken up that she drops her things and breaks a glass. Then it hits him why she was secretly moved in. Tony had discovered his little sister living in a bad situation with her now ex and suffered years of abuse. Loki decides then to take his time to make her feel safe again and they eventually fall for each other.

A/N: I hope this works! I got really sappy at the end, but I also don’t know how to end these one shots. This is a bit of a lengthy one, so bear with me.

He’s Not Him

Summary: Tony Stark has enough of his sister’s ex and moves her into the Avengers Tower. After taking notice of her shy and timid behavior, Loki digs deep at her past, making him want to make her feel safe.

Pairing: Loki x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2993

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of domestic abuse, language

Forever Tags: @mm2305

Y/E/N - your ex’s name

*If you or someone you know is being domestically abused, please reach out to 911 or call 800.799.SAFE (7233) for help. Love you all*

Tony storms into his sister's apartment. After standing outside of her door for a half hour, he bashed in the door at the the sound of a scream from inside. Frantically, he pushes his way around the furniture and bursts into your bedroom. His eyes go wide at the sight of you on the floor in a ball and your ex boyfriend above you with a fist out. Stark grabs your ex’s fist and rips him away from you, pushing him into your dresser.

“Get the fuck out!” Tony screams.

“Oh, the great Tony Stark is here. What are you going to do? Drop a bomb on me?”

You’ve never seen Tony’s skin turn so red. He storms forward and punches your ex square in the nose, sending him down on the ground. Tony unleashes all his energy until the man is left with a broken nose and multiple bruises.

“Get. Out.”

Your ex runs out of your room, without missing the chance to break a few things, and out of your apartment. You look up out of your ball to see Tony rushing to your side with panic in his eyes. He lifts up your head as you climb into his lap.

“Come here, darling. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” He coos.

You cry into the crook of his shoulder as he rocks you back and forth, his hand on your back.

“I’m getting you out of here,” He says, placing you on your bed, “I’m taking you to the tower with us.”

Tony leaves you on your bed as he gets a suitcase and packs your things. He gathers all of your clothes and some of your possessions like books, drawings, and others. You can feel the tears starting to dry on your skin as you stop crying. Tony doesn’t miss the way you start to uncurl and the bruises on your neck show up. His face drops to see the choking marks on your neck.

“I’m… so sorry, Y/N. I should have been here to protect you.”

You shake your head at him as he joins you on the bed. Tony reaches around your head to undo your ponytail and cover the bruises.

“There, now no one will ask you about them.”

You give him a gentle smile which eases him a little. He leans forward and kisses your forehead before taking your hand and helping you up. Tony and you walk out of your building and into the garage where Happy is in the car. He drops you off for five minutes to go talk to your landlord about you leaving.

“You’re going to be okay,” Happy reassures you.

“Thanks,” you manage to get out.

He gives you a warm smile. He has always made you smile throughout the years. Tony comes back, joins you in the car, and takes off to the tower.

Upon arrival, you look up at the large tower in awe. You’ve visited a couple of times, but that was a year ago since your ex didn’t allow you to see Tony much. It’s always been impressive. You were thankful for Tony letting you live on your own and make something of your own life instead of letting you mooch off of his fortune, but you do regret sometimes not letting him support you more. You were always so proud of him.

Tony carries your luggage as he leads you to the elevators. He looks down at you every so often, noticing the anxious way you bite your nails.

“You’re safe here. We have the best security and you’ll be surrounded by trained assassins and heroes. They’ll protect you, I promise.”

You nod your head at Tony’s words. As much as they help you, you don’t really want to see or talk to anyone. After having your ex break into your house every day for two weeks, you want to be alone except for the occasional visit from Tony.

The elevator doors open and reveal you and your brother to the Avengers who are all lounging in the living area. They turn to look at you with puzzled faces, making you nervous and hide behind Tony’s arm. He lets you stay behind him instead of forcing you to say hi as you exit the elevator.

“Everyone, this is my sister, Y/N. She’s going to stay here from now on so be nice to her,” Tony announces.

Everyone says hi to you but you stay silent behind Tony. He doesn’t question it even though the others look at one another in concern. Steve thinks to himself that you can’t be that rude, but given the way you look, everything must be very different to you from the rest of your life. You look shocked and scared.

Looking at the Avengers, you take in each and everyone’s appearance. Bucky and Nat look the scariest in your opinion and you make a mental note to stay away from them. Sam, Steve, and Clint look nice, but Wanda looks like the sweetest lady in the universe. She has a smile that warms your heart. Turning to your right, you see two very tall men standing and staring at you.

The taller one has blonde hair and a big grin on his face. He has a large stature, but he does not look intimidating. He has a golden retriever energy to him, but the man next to him is a different story. With his pitch black hair and powerful stand, the other man stares at you with daggers in his eyes. He sends shivers down your spine without saying anything.

You drag your eyes away from the intimidating man and follow Tony down the hallway. He leads you to your room where you get settled in, unpacking your clothes and putting away your things. Laying in the bed, you take a big nap which is needed. You feel as if you let out a breath you’ve been holding for days. The idea of being away from your ex finally settles in and you feel the wave of relief wash over your body, letting you drift away into sleep.

You’re woken up by Tony letting you know dinner is being served. He lets you know that you’re not being expected to come out and eat with everyone, which you appreciate. Ten minutes later, he comes by your room and slips a plate of food in your room as he opens the door, letting you eat alone.

Tony returns to the living room by the other Avengers eating and gathered around the couch. He takes his plate and sits next to Pepper who has her own food, smiling at him as he joins.

“So, your sister?” Sam asks.

“Don’t even think about it. She is not to date any of you.”

“Woah, I didn’t say that,” Sam laughs.

“But we know what you meant,” Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes, “She seems shy.”

“She is. You probably won’t get a lot out of her.”

“Can I ask why she’s staying her?”

“No.”

Steve shares a look with Bucky. The elevator door opens and Peter walks into the living room.

“You guys started dinner without me?” He asks, jokingly.

“Early birds get the worm,” Steve laughs.

The group chuckles and keeps eating their food.

“Is Y/N a new Avenger?” Steve asks.

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes at the question. Everyone notices the annoyance in Tony with talking about you and collectively decide to stop asking questions. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about you much.

“No, she’s not.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Peter asks.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Nat replies.

The day goes by fast and you find yourself staring out at New York in the moonlight. You have always enjoyed the night time. They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but you’ve always found peace and warmth in the New York night. Everyone goes out to party or to bed. It’s a time of joy and relaxment.

You hear the last door shut for the night, signally everyone going to bed. Looking outside of your door, you don’t spot anyone so you sprint outside to the kitchen with your empty dinner plate. Upon entering it, you search the walls for the light switch for about five minutes. There’s no other light than that except for the over. You finally find it and switch it on. As you turn around, you’re startled by the frightening black haired man standing there.

Scared, you drop your plate, shattering it on the tile floor. Your eyes go wide as you start to back up against the wall. Without saying anything, the man takes a step forward, scaring you half to death. Your mind plays tricks on you and all you can think about is your ex breaking into your home. You start to have a panic attack, sliding down against the wall, and curling up into a ball.

You miss the way Loki’s eyes go wide. He watches you descend into an anxiety attack and doesn’t know what to do, knowing he’s who caused it. Quickly, he rushes down the hallways and bangs on Tony’s doors.

“What do you want, Reindeer Games?” He groans.

“Your sister…”

Tony doesn’t wait for another word for following Loki down the corridor. He spots you panicking in the corner of the kitchen and grabs you, lifting you into his lap. You grab onto his neck and pull him close, crying into him. He lifts you up and carries you off to your room without saying a word to Loki, leaving him standing in the kitchen agape.

Not knowing what to do and unable to relax, Loki makes his way to his room and opens up an old laptop Thor had gotten him. After spending thirty minutes just to figure out how to work it, he starts googling things about you. He starts with your name and finds multiple articles on you and Tony, the Stark Industry Golden Children. You left when you were eighteen, wanting to make your own life and not follow in the family’s footsteps. He gives you credit for being yourself, something he had struggled with. He knows the feeling, not wanting to be your family.

Then a certain website catches his eye, Facebook. He finds a profile of you filled with photos and text. There are some of you with friends in the town, a couple of old coworkers wishing you a happy birthday, then there’s a photo of you with a man. There are no other photos of you with him other than this one a couple months ago. He keeps scrolling to find more photos of you with him, but they all stop after that first one. Clicking on something tagged in the caption, another profile pops up.

Y/E/N’s profile. Filled with photos of drunk nights at the club, shirtless gym time, and quotes from misogynistic authors, Loki finds himself despising this man he does not know. He scrolls through finding very little of you in his account, as if you don’t matter as much to him as he does to you. Closing his computer, Loki decided to go check on you. He’s frustrated by whoever this man is, not knowing whether he’s important or not.

Loki peeks into your room to see Tony laying next to you, brushing through your hair with his fingers. Tony looks up and meets him in the eyes. There’s slight anger, but Loki doesn’t feel pushed away. He takes a step in before Tony leans into your ear and whispers. You look up and over to Loki, but you don’t ask him to leave. Loki continues to walk into your bedroom quietly, but with a small gentle smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier,” he says, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Thanks,” you mutter.

Your voice is small and timid like a mouse. He can hear the hesitation in your voice, not knowing whether he should talk to you or not.

“Are… you okay?”

“Yes.”

Another awkward pregnant pause erupts between the two of you. Loki looks around your room as Tony continues to hold you. He whispers into your ear again before leaving.

“I’m going to go back to my room,” he says, “call me if you need me okay?”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Of course, anything for my little sister.”

He kisses your forehead and heads out of your room, leaving you and Loki alone. You don’t mind his presence anymore. After Tony tells you that Loki isn’t your ex and you’re okay, you’ve accepted him.

“I have to ask… who is that man on Facebook?”

Loki gives you a quizzical look. You think for a moment about how Loki got on Facebook and what guy he’s talking about.

“His name is Y/E/N.”

Your body clenches at the sound of his name and Loki takes a step back, looking at you. He’s never seen anyone physically close up just from a name. It may be some Midgardians thing he doesn’t understand, but the way that you are shaking, he thinks otherwise. He sits down next to you and wraps his arms around your shoulders. You lean into his touch as you attempt to calm down.

He’s not here. I’m safe. He’s not here. I’m safe.

You keep repeating that in your head, reminding yourself that you’re safe in the tower like Tony said. Looking up at Loki, you see his concerned face. He cares. This man you barely know cares about you.

He’s not him. He’s not him. He’s not him.

“I don’t think I properly introduced myself. I’m being quite an ass asking you these questions without manners. I’m Loki.”

Loki, not Y/E/N. He’s not him. He’s not him.

“Well, L-Loki,” you say with a stutter, “He’s uh… my ex. Ex boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

He nods as he takes in the information at hand. Your ex, who makes you quiver in fear even over people who have done nothing to her, has no photos of you. He shares his lavish lifestyle that most would presume belongs to a single man. Loki looks back at your depressed ridden face. The color in your skin has drained from you and you’re staring blank cold at the wooden floors under your bed. Loki places a hand on your neck to move your hair and give you a light massage, but you flinch away from him before he is able.

Loki’s never seen so much fear and worry in someone’s eyes before. You jerk away from him muttering yourself, as if it were taking everything in you to not scream. He looks over you to see bruises along your neck where your hair had moved from when you moved. A wave of anger runs through his body, infuriating him. He did that to you. That’s why you’re so afraid of him.

“Did he-”

“Yes.”

Loki rises from your bed and clenches his fists. You see the anger pouring from him and rush to his side before he can storm off. You grab his arms and force him to look at you.

“Please, don’t… don’t do anything.”

“Why shouldn’t I? No man should ever do that to a woman, especially you.”

“Just let it be.”

He releases his fist but the fury in his eyes doesn't. You pull him towards you to make him sit again. Moving in closer, you lean into him. Loki wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. The two of you lay down in your bed, you curled up on him as he held you, running his fingers in your hair.

For some reason, Loki feels as if he has to protect you. The way you ball up gives him this sense of innocence about you. You haven’t done anything to deserve those injuries, just live your life and try to find love. Loki always knew there was a good reason to hate Midgardians, not just for their stupidity and now he’s found it.

The two of you fall asleep without realizing it. The light from the sun peaking in the windows wakes you. Stirring in bed, you look up to see Loki under you, his arms holding you against him by your waist. You're cradled into his chest as his chin barely rests on the top of your head. Loki’s eyes flutter open at the feeling of you moving on top of him. He looks down at you and smiles.

The way the light shines on your face makes you look angelic. Your smile warms his heart and the warmth of your body against him makes his heart jump. You turn over to face him, leaning up on your shoulders over his head.

“Hi.”

“Hello, darling.”

“You slept here.”

“Both of us did, actually,” he laughs.

You drop your head laughing. Loki’s sweet laugh fills the room and blesses your ears. He’s not too bad to be around. He’s quite kind and sweet.

“Thank you for last night.”

“For what? If I remember correctly, I gave you a panic attack.”

“I mean the way you calmed me down and held me. It was needed.”

“Well, I’m glad I could do that for you.”

Loki means it when he says it. Looking at you now, there’s not much he wouldn’t do for you. You don’t deserve what the world gives you, especially that asshole Y/E/N. He would hold you for the rest of time if that meant keeping you safe.

You won’t lie either when you tell Loki he makes you feel safe. Every day before he sneaks off to his room so the others don’t know he spends the night with you, you tell him that he makes you safe. He never believes you. He’s shocked that anyone could feel safe with a monster like him, but after all to you, Loki is not him.

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki #loki x reader fluff #tony stark x sister!reader #tony stark x reader sister #loki x stark!reader #loki x reader stark #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fluff #marvel x reader #loki oneshot

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buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

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i won't let you down

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky helps you and gives you hope.

word count: 1.196 words.

warnings/tags: very brief mention of domestic violence, the winter soldier coming to help you.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

BUCKY POV

It was the fourth month he was living in the same building as you, concretely, in the apartment next to yours. Since the very first moment you met in the lift, you were extra kind with him and he couldn’t help but think that you were hiding some kind of intentions, until the days passed away and he discovered it was part of your naturality. He remembered, as if it happened yesterday, the first morning he knocked on your door asking for some coffee and you practically invited him to have breakfast together. You two talked about your part-time job in a cafeteria by morning, close to the neighborhood, and another one in a book shop by evenings. Bucky was fascinated by how much you used the hours of your days, letting you work out and have long walks in Central Park.

And he also remembered the night you knocked on his door for the first time, after hearing him having some nightmares and not being able to go back to sleep. The walls seemed like thin paper. He didn’t get it out of his head that time he heard you crying in your room, in the small hours, after a fight with your boyfriend. A punk who didn’t deserve an angel like you. On all the occasions you two argued, Bucky wanted to intervene, but he didn’t because what was his right.

Until a night where the heated talk escalated too quickly to swearings coming from him, and a painful scream coming from your lips after a loud hit. Bucky kicked the door down without doubting, panting furious and breaking into your apartment like a bat out of hell. As soon as he reached the living room and saw you crying and lying on the floor, all his rage contained during months got concentrated on the same point. Five cold fingers closing in a big and dangerous fist.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your boyfriend spat raving mad.

“A guy who’s gonna disappoint his therapist for breaking rule number two”. The soldier hissed, not giving time to the other to react.

With his left hand grabbing your boyfriend’s throat, Bucky pinned him to the nearest wall with so much uncontrollable strength that he almost opened a hold in it, straight to his own house.

“Listen to me now, you son of a bitch”. Their faces were separated barely for a couple of inches, drinking each other’s breathing. “If I see you coming again, laying a finger on her… I promise I’ll turn your life into a damn nightmare”.

Bucky could see the horror borning in his eyes when your boyfriend recognized him. That voice. Those blue orbs. The metallic fingers cutting off the air from his lungs. He was in the news for a long time. The Winter Soldier. One of those freaks with superpowers, with the difference that he was a trained assassin. Only a fool wouldn’t obey his threat. But for some reason, Bucky wasn’t able to loosen the hold around the other man, driven by the desire he had for killing him. After all the suffering he made you go through, after all the nights hearing you crying, after all the time waiting for your boyfriend to change. He wanted to end his life.

“Bu— Bucky”. Your weak sobs brought him back to reality. To New York. To the year twenty twenty-one. To the new century.

As if it was an automatic act, his fingers opened making your boyfriend fall to the floor. Coughing, choking with his own saliva and the lack of air. The poor coward ran away before Bucky could blink twice. Shaking his head to shut up the voices inside his head claiming him to chase the man, he turned around and squatted next to you. A thin thread of blood poured out from the upper right corner of your lip, as your cheek was burning in pain after the punch. The soldier held you onto his arms, listening to the sound of the police sirens coming. Probably some neighbor called them, fed up with the fights inside your house.

You were crying inconsolably and ashamed when he walked into his apartment, placing you with so much care on his sofa. Bucky didn’t utter a syllable, heading to his bathroom to take something to fix you up. He had a good medical kit since he didn’t want to visit any kind of hospital. Coming back to you, the soldier knelt next to you, feeling a knot inside his chest pressing out his skin. He wetted a cotton in hydrogen peroxide and placed his warm free hand on your untouched cheek to urge you to raise your head towards him. You couldn’t help but draw a grimace of pure soreness that broke his heart in one million pieces.

“Sorry…” Bucky murmured, earning your look filled up with sadness. “I, uh… I wanted to… So many times, I…”

“Thank you… for saving me”. You stuttered in low tears, while he continued healing your lip and cleaning the blood on it. “You’re a… good man, James”.

“I just did what I had to”.

“We’re… more than fifty persons living here… And you’ve been the one who has saved me”.

Knocks on his door interrupted your little chat, causing him to frown as the two of you heard it was the NYPD. Bucky left a delicate caress on your cheek before standing up and attending the call. The cops came into his house without asking if they could, knowing very well the man who was living there.

“Ma’am, you okay?” One of the officers inquired walking closer.

“Yeah, it was… I just… slip off to the fl—”. Tell them about your, now, ex-boyfriend wasn’t an option for you, feigning a soft chuckle as you cleaned the tears in your eyelids.

“His boyfriend hit her”. But Bucky interrupted you.

“And you helped her, mister Barnes?”

“Yeah, and she’s gonna make a complaint”.

That wasn’t an option for you either, but by the look coming from his eyes, you knew it was the only one for him. You couldn’t persuade him.

“Ma’am?”

Bucky licked his bottom lip, shortening the distance between both to grab his cozy and baggy black hoodie to offer it to you. He was determined to help you. He really wanted your welfare.

“C’mon”. He almost begged you in a whisper, shaking briefly his hand holding the piece of clothing to convince you of taking the good road. “I’ll be with you, I promise. I won’t let you down… Not again”.

It took you a couple of seconds to nod your head, getting up from his sofa being helped by the cold hand showing up. Bucky made you wear his hoodie, with so much careless to not touch your right cheek still burning because of the pain. Under the attentive look of the cops, he placed his flesh arm over your shoulders, not caring about the lack of distance when you clung yours around his waist and tried to hide your face on his chest. For the first time since you started that toxic relationship, you felt safe. You felt liberated.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

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TAG LIST: @mystic-232 @homesicam @theresnoplatypus @i-love-scott-mccall @slutfornat @goldielocks2004 @whatrambles @spidergirla5 @fanofalltheficsx @nocturnalherb16 @valenquei @golden-hoax @hunter-of-baker-street @missusstark @vhscherry @warm-sensations @addictedtofictionalcharacters @sarahsmcu @tinylumpiaa @amelia-song-pond @heartislubbingdubbing @stolenxkissess @clean-and-claire @winchestersgirl222 @virgoroses @marvel-ousnesss @me-a-hopeless-romantic @rvgrsbrns @maccasbeard @haileygarciasunshine @lewd-alien @kait-is-always-late @mckenna @weenersoldierr @mxltifaves @soldierstucky @theboldandthebootyful @arkofblake @isabellamur @kiwisa @spider-man-lover @rosiebrands @stealapizzamyheart @koressecretidentity @asemistablehundredyearoldman @mayans-sauce @petlaufeyson @megapeacelovemusic-blog @phoenixhalliwell

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #the winter soldier x reader

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nelapanela94 · 3 years ago

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Part 1

tw: slight self harm.

“I… I just wanted your cloak because it smells like you”

“Uh?” His eyes squinted, looking at you with parted lips.

“What?” You swallowed hard, your face all flustered you felt like running away and hide. With a quick movement, he pulled on the hood over your head with the sole purpose to annoy you.

“I don’t get it. If yours is worn out, just request for a new one” he said unabashedly, slightly tilting his head to the side. Your groan startled him as you bitterly pushed the hood off uncovering your eyes. Your cheeks were even redder; the heat emanating from you was a mix of both embarrassment and anger. “Are you ok?” He reached out, pressing the back of his hand on your forehead. Tears of helplessness filled your eyes; you were only a step away from punching his stupid face. His stupid, handsome face.

You jerked back, pushing his hand off of you. “You’re the biggest idiot within the walls, Levi!” You shouted and turned around to leave.

“Wait...” Levi’s eyes went wide at your sudden reaction, watching you leave with a dumbfounded look on his face.

You kept walking using the end of his cloak to wipe off your tears, fighting the urge to glance back. Come after me, please, come after me. You repeated in your head, but just as you expected, he didn’t follow you.

“Shit” Levi cursed under his breath; the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you, but it was necessary. You would get over the outburst and things will be as before. He wasn’t an idiot; he could read you like and open book and was aware of your feelings for him.

And you may never know they were reciprocated.

He kept his feelings locked because he didn’t want to hurt you; that's what he recurrently thought, hoping that one day he’d be able to convince his heart. In truth, he was trying to protect himself, to shield his heart from more suffering. He was afraid to get too attached and lose you, to lose control of his emotions; to become too weak and vulnerable.

You stormed into your office slamming the door shut behind you. With your hands covering your eyes, you let your back slide down against the wooden door. Your wept and sobs inundated the room; the tightness in your chest was building up air was becoming scarce.

You loved him so much you felt silly, silly that it hurt when he wasn’t around. And no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get him out of your mind and your heart. Tears streamed down your face, dying in the cloak you were clinging to.

A deep groaned escaped your mouth; the heels of your hands hitting your temples repeatedly.

“oi” the voice came from the other side of the door; your hands stopped midair from more harming.

“Leave me alone!” You said between sobs as you dry your cheeks with his cape. Levi sighed, his back sliding down against the door. It hurt too; part of him shattered whenever you cried, and him being the cause of your tears intensified the pain. “I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear you. Just leave” you angrily clutched a fistful of the green fabric.

“I’m a coward” He admitted. “I… I… You…” Fuck. Words got stuck in his chest; his face growing redder at the mere thought. He wanted to shout he loved you, that you brightened his life with your laughter, that whenever you touched him his skin would set on fire. “I can’t lose you, (name). Losing you is my worst fear. If you ever leave, you’d be taking part of me too”

“That’s why you’re reluctant to cross the line? Because your too afraid to lose me?”

A knock on the door was his reply.

“Yes, you’re a fucking coward” you snorted as you stood up and twisted the knob to open the door. Levi was caught by surprise, quickly grabbing the frame to keep his balance, and getting on his feet to meet your gaze.

“Can I hug you?” you looked at him with your red swollen eyes.

“Since when do you ask for permission to hug me?” You didn’t need anything else to throw yourself in his arms.

Levi held you tight with one arm, while his free hand found yours, fingers intertwined. You finally relaxed, the heaviness of the world drifting away from your shoulders. “Can we stay like this?”

“As much as you want” he whispered.

With your eyes closed, you pressed your head against his chest, drowning in the beating of his heart.

#Levi ackerman #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fluff #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi aot #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi x you #levi x reader #levi x y/n #queued #no proofread

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flowersarefreetherapy · 2 years ago

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Hold On: In My Desperation

CW: implied past noncon, noncon kiss, mentioned blood, implied past violence, intimate/creepy whumper

Daniel stares blankly at the wall. The room is dark, lit only by the blinking lights of the alarm clock. His cheekbone hurts, throbbing from where the man hit him. The rest of his body hurts from everything that happened afterwards.

Samuel mutters something in his sleep and wraps his arms tighter around Daniel. He flinches at the contact. If he tries hard enough, maybe, just maybe, he can pretend it’s Star. Pretend he’s back at that house, on that small bed, unfamiliar smells and sounds around him, his bonded holding him close. Impossible, but Daniel tries.

I was such a fool, I should never have left.

Tears spill down his face, but not from pain. Deep within, a different fire is burning. There are knives in the kitchen and a bicycle pump in the corner. In the crevices of his hands he still sees dried blood. What’s more blood spilled in this fight for freedom?

Eventually he drifts into a trance between wakefulness and sleep. Light enough that when the alarm goes off, Daniel is instantly awake.

“Damn it,” Samuel mutters, smacking his hand around until he hits the clock. It falls to the ground with a clatter. “Damnit!”

He kicks off the covers. Daniel doesn’t move, remaining curled on his side. The alarm turns off and Samuel curses several more times before the bed dips again.

“Sorry about that,” he weakly chuckles. Warm lips press to Daniel’s neck and he shudders. “Good morning.”

Do not respond.

He curls his fingers, wishing there was the familiar, sturdy handle of a knife in them. He is a human, not a pet, and his body belongs to no one. All he has to do is remember that. No matter what happens, he must remember that truth.

“I do have work to do,” Samuel continues.

This is my house. Don’t you like it? Hands in his hair, forcing him further forwards. Choking, tears streaming down his face. It’s a bit smaller than I want, but I’ve never had a special person to share it with me. Into the bedroom, freezing cold against Daniel’s skin. Thrown to the bed, trying to run, the punch that knocked him onto his back. This will be so good, I promise. You’ll love all of it.

“But that’s alright. I’m working from home, so you won’t be lonely.”

“Go to hell,” Daniel snarls.

“Aw, how cute! Is the little baby trying to be scary?”

Thin fingers comb back his hair. Daniel squeezes his eyes shut and prays this will be over soon. He expects another blow, but it never lands. Instead, the bed dips again and Samuel’s fingers curl in his hair.

“Turn over, baby boy.”

Daniel slowly does so. You can’t attack what you can’t see. Samuel sits against the headboard, a laptop balancing on his legs and several books now on his nightstand. Each of them heavy enough to knock someone out. His hands uncurl, ready and waiting, but he waits. Acting too hastily will result in a failed attempt. They’ll come for him, he’ll never see Star again, at best his brain will be wiped and he’ll be someone new.

Samuel boops the end of his nose. Daniel swallows back the urge to bite at his finger.

“Look at those eyes of yours,” he breathes, like a kid on Christmas morning. “Stunning, absolutely stunning. Like chocolate–no, not chocolate. Hazelnut coffee. Yeah. I needed a knight, you know? For my new novel. I’m a writer, you see. It allows me to make my own schedule and do whatever I want in my free time.”

His hand slides down Daniel’s side. His muscles tense as Samuel’s fingers graze around his hips, slipping down to rest on his thigh.

“Though I don’t think I’m going to have much free time with such a beautiful thing such as yourself at my side. You’re going to make a wonderful knight.”

Go f–

Samuel leans down and kisses Daniel. He flinches back, but the man follows, tongue tracing the edges of his lips. Several seconds later, he pulls back. Daniel curls tighter around himself, hating the skin-on-skin contact. Above him, the keys of the keyboard click away, matching his racing thoughts.

I need to get out of here. I need to get back to Star.

Daniel will plan. He will wait. He will not make the same mistakes as before. He will do better. He will attack quicker, make it cleaner, and fight harder.

He will spill whatever blood is necessary to see his bonded again.

Tagging: @blood-is-compulsory @darkthingshappen @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @whumpinggrounds (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

#Daniel the protector #implied past noncon #noncon kiss #mentioned blood #implied past violence #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #recapture #pet whump #bbu #hold on: i still need you

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hotwings0203 · 3 years ago

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Bully!Dabi pt. 3

Tags: @shikamaruscumrag @pinkiy13l @an-ambivalent @luno614 @sukunasleftkneecap

Tw:dubcon, noncon, bullying, manipulation, Russian roulette

“Doll? Come on out and I won’t hurt you too bad.”

You wait with bated breath as he walks right past your hiding place behind some crates, blue fire licking up the sides of his body and held in the palms of his scarred hands.

He’s mad, you know he is. He’s teasing you, of course he is, why else wouldn’t he just turn on the lights and pounce?

No, this is another punishment of sorts. A punishment for escaping your previous punishment from being locked in your room.

Another lash of burning cobalt strikes against a wall about 10 feet away from you, and you curse yourself internally. If only you had just stayed in bed a couple days more, if only you hadn’t snuck out when he left, if only, if only…

“Baaaabbyyyyy”

It sounds so wrong and uncharacteristic coming out from his gravely voice.

You huddle your limbs even closer to yourself, paying no mind to the cramping in your knees from being squished for so long.

It’s been about 25 minutes or so from what you can remember. It’s hard to remember anything that happened this bland morning anyways when the climax of your life was seemingly taking place here, after you entered the wrong room.

You had honestly just wanted a peek outside of Dabi’s room and maybe a drink of water, nothing more.

Or so you tell yourself.

But can you really be blamed? Who else wouldn’t have run out the moment they got a chance after spending almost two weeks in the same shitty room, being used as fuckmeat and only given bread scraps and salty cum as meals.

It didn’t matter how close he held you at night, how his strokes seemed to brush up against all the right places, how he tried catching your eye every time he wanted to talk about anything (which you would never really indulge in, only giving him a soft grunt or a nod). He was a monster, a demon in disguise that was keeping you against your will in his clutches.

A loud crash closer than before hits your ears, and you stifle an impending whimper. You can tell he’s roamed closer than before, finding nothing from his earlier place in the front of the storage room.

“I’m getting pretty fucking tired of repeating myself doll. You must be even more of a masochist than I thought since it’s like you want me to fuck you up even worse than I did before.”

His words are quiet but they do enough to cause a loud beating in your already-pacing heart, so loud in fact that you fear he can hear it racing a mile a minute.

You wonder if anyone is nearby, if they even remember you’ve been missing for a while now.

“Y/N”

“Come out, pretty girl. You know I miss you”

But you don’t miss him.

What you do miss, however, is not being chased into an empty storage room and hounded like a fucking dog. You miss joking with Twice, painting your nails with Toga, making Shigaraki chuckle.

All of a sudden, the crate next to you is covered with hellfire. The flames that are thrust from Dabi’s hands are so wild that they seat through your shirt and prick your skin.

You scream and scrabble backwards, the light of his fire illuminating his face leering up above you in the dark like a ghoul from a children’s book.

You clap your hands over your mouth, ignoring your bubbling skin as fear overrides premonition, but the damage has already been done.

It’s eerily quiet for a minute. Then, he whispers,

“Found you”

Even in the pitch black room you can practically see him lunging towards you, and you scuttle backwards on your hands and feet in terror. His hands miss your bare feet by a few inches, and he snarls before making another swipe.

“Fucking bitch, this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, bathing you, feeding and fucking you?”

You yelp as he lights up the floor on both sides of your trembling body, and you see his figure once more as the blue fire shows the sick grin twisted up on his face.

“Leave me alone,” you sob, clambering up on your feet and running backwards as he advances on you. The smoke from his quirk is filling the room, and you erupt in hoarse coughs as it’s filtered through your aching lungs.

Everything about him is toxic.

“Nah. That’s not how this works sweetheart. You see, I take care of you, and in return, you do whatever the fuck I say when I say it.”

He raises his palms to you and you flinch, covering your head and colliding with the wall behind you. You’re too scared and tired to evade him again as you feel his body cover you and brush against yours as you shake in place, your arms still above your face.

He cooes at you. “There there, my stupid little bitch. You were scared daddy was gonna hurt you, right?”

His stitched palm caresses your bitten bottom lip and trails up to your tear-stained cheek.

After a moment of you saying nothing, he slaps the side of your face, hard, and you gasp in pain. Now it wasn’t just your stomach that felt on fire.

“I asked you a question, you brain dead whore. Are you scared daddy’s gonna burn you? ‘You scared he’s gonna beat you black you blue? ‘Scared he’s gonna cut a gaping hole in your burnt tummy and fuck the gash?” He leans in and lets his raspy words settle over your ears as he tenderly brushes your hair away from it. He softly kisses the shell of you ear, and when you sob quietly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close, paying no heed to how you uncomfortably squirm when your raw torso burns from the contact.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to inhale too much, lest the smoke embedded all over his body gets too close for comfort in your system.

“Y-yes daddy. Please don’t hurt me, I was…a bad girl.” You cringe when the words are wobbled out, but you know it’s what he wants.

To humiliate you, to hurt you. Who was he kidding when he said he loved you?

Dabi, however, feels butterflies in his own stomach.

See, this is what you need. To answer to Daddy, to submit to him so that he can take care of you. That’s why you stayed so long in his room, right? It’s cause you knew it would make him happy if you listened to him. You let him make love to you, and treat you like his little girl because deep down, you know this is where you belong.

So why are you fighting him? You never raised a complaint for a week and a half, you only stayed quiet and kept your eyes shut when he asked if you were okay. That means you liked it, right? No real opposition, after all.

Except for now.

Dani is honestly disappointed in you right now, you were doing so well…so why’d you have to go and ruin it?

He might’ve softened from the way your body shakes and your sobs are muffled by his smoke-scorched jacket as you press against him for comfort, but the image of you turning around and running away when you saw him earlier hurts him too much.

It angers him.

Why the fuck were you so scared? Hasnt he shown you enough that he loved you? What, does he need to fucking spell it out for you?

Why were your eyes filled with such terror when he caught you? Did you turn away from him and run because you thought he was going to make you look like him, all burnt up and hideous?

Honestly, he would never, but if you’re so hellbent on making him the bad guy, then fine, he’ll play the bad guy.

Anything for his precious little girl.

And so he tightens his arms around you and chuckles cruelly when you whine at the lack of air.

“Well, you were right. I am pretty pissed, I mean I told you to come out and you didn’t listen right?”

“S-sorry,” you weakly choke out.

He laughs even more crazed now, crushing your ribs so tight he could actually hear your breath wheezing out of you, could feel your weak little punches against his back.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. No no, I want you to beg for your fucking life now.”

Your eyes widen as his arms begin to warm up and become unbearably hot.

“Dabi, no, no please!”

You writhe in pain as he cackles above you, savoring the choked breaths that emit from your wetted lips.

As soon as you begin to see spots, he releases you, and flings you against the corner of the room.

You go flying and bang your head against the concrete wall, his voice muted and swimming around in your ears as you fight for consciousness.

He saunters towards you in all his flaming glory, hands in his pockets as if he were walking out for some fresh air. He crouches in front of you and lifts your head with the pads of his fingers.

“Awww, my poor little girl. That had to have hurt, huh? You’re bleeding,” he cooes and blows a strand of hair away from your eyes.

He’s not lying, you can feel hot blood trickle down the side of your head as your vision sways.

“Stop this,” you pant. “I get it, I’m sorry- you were right and I was wrong, I shouldn’t have ran. I’ll listen to you from now on-“

“-But you said that last time, didn’t you?” He cocks his head and with the light of his turquoise fire against the shadows of the room, he looks like a being from hell itself.

“Remember? When you sucked me off like the dirty whore you are? Remember that you stupid cunt?” His grin becomes more reminiscent of a wolf baring its fangs, and you’re rendered silent in complete terror.

He takes your silence as an encouraging factor to continue his fun.

“You ever played Russian Roulette, Y/N?”

You have enough sense to quickly shake your head, a sinking feeling in your stomach forming at his implication.

“Me neither. But I kinda wanna try it right now. So, back against the wall. Stand up straight and spread your legs.”

You look at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious Dabi.”

He raises an eyebrow and a fire grows in the palm of his hand. “Wanna find out? Oh wait, you already are- now do what I said otherwise you’ll have one less leg.”

You don’t need more motivation to act on his orders.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly spread your legs and place your palms flat against the wall.

“Spread ‘em more. That shouldn’t be anything new to you.”

You wince at his dig but continue to widen the stance between your legs.

He smiles at your compliance.

“Good. This should be fairly easy, I mean the room is already dark enough to count as having a blindfold. Whatever you do, just don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s sincerely saying it for your sake. He’s glad for the safety of the dark, because he doesn’t want you to see the way he hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he prepares himself for his next move.

The room goes dark, his fire has been put out.

You inhale softly, blood pounding in your heart as your hands shake in anticipation.

Then all of a sudden, a fireball comes barreling right towards you, in between your parted legs.

You shriek and jerk, but luckily you’re saved from being singed.

“I told you not to move, babe.” He clicks his tongue and rubs his erection absentmindedly.

A second, then third bolt of fire comes at the side of your head, singing your hair and then dangerously close to your already burnt stomach.

At each one you sob and do your best not to move, not to take in Dabi’s utterly emotionless face as you wail for mercy.

The last one comes so powerful that as it strikes the wall next to you, flecks of ash sting your cheeks and lips.

Your knees are jelly, your mouth is aching from begging for your life as he wanted.

But you know he’s done when he lets out a loud yawn and groan as he stretches his arm and flexes his fingers.

“A-are we done?” You sniffle.

He says nothing at first. You just hear him ask a couple steps towards you, his boots echoing in the room. You assume he stops in front of you because you can feel his body in front of your kneeling figure.

His hand descends and feels around until he reaches the top of your head. Stroking softly, he twirls locks through his fingers and gently shushes you until your hiccups subside, and you lean your forehead against his thigh.

“‘You happy it’s done? You did so well for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes Dabi. Thank you,” you utter softly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Yeah? How thankful are you?”

You still at that.

He starts to unbuckle his belt.

You pull your head back, and he pulls his pants down.

“Dabi-“

“Shhh, don’t ruin this. Just keep your mouth shut and let your body do the talking. Show me how grateful you are that I spared your fucking life.”

The gentle way he handled you clashed with his harsh words, and you have a moment of whiplash.

He kneels down in front of you and lets his hands wander in the dark until he meets your torso.

You hiss at the sensitive flesh, but he doesn’t stop. He just moves his hand under your shirt and higher, pushing your bra up until your tits spill from the bottom of it.

He bites his lip as you whimper from his touch, his thumbs swirling around your nipples and prodding the squishy flesh.

Dabi gets more eager when you throw your head back at one particularly rough squeeze and shuffles even closer, his pants and underwear at his knees, member bouncing out in the open air.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, furiously stroking his cock.

You surrender and slowly pull your sweats off, and then your panties as you hear him lightly panting in eagerness.

The second he hears them drop to the floor he lunges for your feet and yanks your forward, catching you in his lap as you yelp.

It’s pitch black, but he can feel you clear as day.

The tickle of your hair hanging in his face, your sweet smell clouding his rationale, the melodious sounds of fear and pleasure mixed with pain make his prick stand painfully at attention, weeping at the slit for your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother taking your shirt off in impatience, he simply barks at you to hold the hem up so he can feel your breasts bouncing against his face when he motorboats them.

You, however, shakily hold his hand at your waist when he pulls you forward until your bare hole presses against his length, coating it with light juices.

“Oh fuck, doll, your pussy’s practically begging me to fuck it. ‘You like having your life in danger? No wonder you keep fucking up,” he groans as he moved beneath you, letting his hips rock back and forth to gain friction from under you.

“Wait, go slowly-“

“No the fuck I won’t,” he interrupts. You have enough sense to bite back any retorts from the subtle growl in his words.

He lifts you up from underneath your ass, and you raise your hips in compliance as he grabs his dick, circling it around your swollen nub and then pressing it against your entrance.

You breath shakily and run your hands through his hair, not so much in a loving gesture but tightly in futile hopes to deter him in any possible way.

He takes it either way as you wanting him equally, and without further ado he slams your hips down on his whole length.

You howl in pain as he begins bouncing you, pressing down on your shoulders and forcing your poor cunt to envelope him fully at each stroke.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your ass clapping on his dick, the mixed fluids from both of your bodies and the harmonies of his low grunts and your high pitched whines.

You can feel his dick twitch violently inside of you as he nears his climax. He flips you over on your back and starts pounding into you, laughing cruelly in your face as you cry out from the intensity of his strokes.

“D-Dabi! Pull out, I’m not on birth control!”

“Good.”

You open your eyes to stare at him in horror, barely making out the marred features of his face.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my babies. You’re gonna be plugged with my cum from now on, ‘s the only way you’ll stop running.”

“Get the fuck off me, this isn’t funny-!”

He grabs your rising fists and pins them back against the floor, crushing your wrists in the process.

“Who said I’m laughing?” And he isn’t laughing anymore, no, on the contrary he looks the most serious that he’s ever been, and that terrifies you the most.

The upper half of his body is suspended in midair above you as his pelvis smashes against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“‘Bet you’d like that, bet you’d like having all your holes stuffed with my kids. They’re gonna grow up and know how slutty their mommy was, they’re gonna watch and learn how Daddy earned his name. You think they’ll cry when they hear you scream for me?”

You want to rip out your ears from the filth pouring from his mouth, but unfortunately your hands are trapped under his grasp.

All you can do is chant “no, no, no,” under your breath as he’s pushed over the edge.

“Or maybe I’ll tie your legs against the barstools outside and let every man out there have his way with you. You missed them, right? I’m sure they missed you too, I’m sure they missed the way you’d fuck them the second they made you laugh,” bitterness seeps into his voice as ropes of cum shoot out.

He moans loudly in your ear and collapses against your body, sweat intermingling in the cervices of your entangled limbs.

It takes around three minutes for you both to catch your breaths, and for him to shakily raise himself on his elbows to peer down into your ruddy face.

“Clean yourself up. You’re going back to my room. And this time, if you try to run we’ll repeat this entire process again, but I’ll actually let everyone have their way with you. It’ll be like an orgy version of Russian Roulette, well all place bets on whose kid it is.”

You don’t miss the rest of the League, anymore

#tw:noncon #tw:misogyny #tw: bullying #Dabi smut #mha dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere Dabi #Dabi mha #dabi oneshot #dabi imagine #bnha dabi #bnha yandere #bnha smut

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝐴 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑀𝑎𝑛 𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑇𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings: NSFW content/Older Ateez but age differences is written withing legal boundaries.

Continuation to this reaction.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Peeking his eyes up from the test papers he was currently grading, Hongjoong glared as he saw how the student that had recently transferred was eyeing you up. He tried to look away but it truly disgusted him to see him stare down at your legs. His hand then clenched into a tight fist as you crossed one leg over the other, exposing more of your skin which the student did not shy away from gawking at, even tilting his head to see if he could get a glimpse of something else.

As if on cue to keep him from slamming his hands on the desk, the bell rang for all the students to go back to their dorms or other living spaces.

"Miss Y/N, could you please stay a moment?"

You smirked to yourself as it seemed your plan had worked. Putting on the most innocent face you could muster, you leaned your hands on the desk in front of your teacher, purposefully bending over so your cleavage could be seen by him.

"Yes Mr. Kim? Do you require my.... assistance?" You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

Knowing what your little game was, Hongjoong slid off his chair and slowly walked to the other side of the desk. His hands went to your waist and moved you so you could face him. His bottom lip poked out while his hands went underneath your skirt to toy with the hem of your panties.

"Miss Y/N, I'm afraid these skirts of yours might prove to be too distracting for classes."

You nearly threw your head back and laughed loudly, but instead you opted for pulling your sexy teacher closer to you by his tie.

"For whom exactly? The other students.....or you?"

Hongjoong breathed in deeply when you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip.

"I would prefer it if they only distracted me." He admitted as he began sliding your panties down your legs.

You let out an amused hum as your hands began to rub across his chest, giving his nipples a little harsh tug through his button up shirt.

"Whatever happened to those words you said the other day? Remember? About not wanting to mess around anymore with the school's cum bucket?" You began prying his buttons open.

He swallowed hard as he began regretting calling you that, not knowing you didn't mind at all and instead used it to fuel your plan for revenge on him. Sighing softly, his hand cupped the back of your head.

"I don't want to hear anymore gossip or whisperings about anyone else fucking you ok? I don't even want to think about any other asshole getting their dick anywhere near here. Got it.?"

You giggled at his confession. Propping yourself up on the desk so he could fully tear your panties off you, you spread your legs out for him, letting him inhale your scent of arousal.

"Then why don't you claim it as your own? Right here, right now, on this desk?"

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Having been under a lot more stress than usual, Seonghwa was extremely irritable and often walked around with a scowl. It was starting to bother you honestly.

"If you don't want to be here, you can just leave you know." You spat out one day while you two were in bed.

Turning his face to you, he looked at you with a warning glare.

"Don't you talk to me in that tone missy."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him.

"Last time I checked this was my house, meaning I can talk to you however I want to." You reminded him.

Grunting angrily, Seonghwa sat up and began dressing himself. It kinda had you worried that he was going to leave you for good.

"You're leaving me?" You hid away your disappointment.

"Obviously. Why would I wanna stay here any longer with a slut like you?" He didn't actually mean those words and he instantly regretted spewing them out, but he was stubborn and prideful so he simply left you without another word.

You were fuming, enraged that he'd dare just walk out on you like that. You weren't going to let him leave so easily though. And if you had to take drastic measures to ensure he'd be back in your arms, so be it.

"Slut you say? You don't even know honey." You mused to yourself.

For the next few days Seonghwa moped around his home, sighing to himself. He'd often look over the walls that separated the two of you, wondering what you were doing and if you were thinking of him. One day while his wife was out, he sat quietly on his bed, glasses on as he read one of the many books he owned. He was disrupted by a loud pounding against the wall. The obnoxiously pornographic moans gave a huge clue as to what was going on.

"Oh fuck! Your cock feels sooo good."

He gritted his teeth as he heard your voice being mixed with another male's which didn't belong to him. He slammed his book close, outraged that you'd be fucking someone else so soon.

"Oh yes! Cum inside me!"

Punching the wall, Seonghwa got off the bed and stormed out the room, not wanting to hear anymore and waited by the front door to catch a glimpse of your new lover. When he finally did see him, he scoffed at the young lad, shaking his head furiously. As soon as he left, he went straight over to your place, letting himself in as he pressed you up against the wall.

"If I remember correctly, only I was allowed to cum inside that hole of yours right?"

His snarling against your ear was making you get turned on once more, your legs parting when he drove his knee up your crotch.

"After all you did promise to give me a baby....."

He grinned evilly as he peppered kisses along your jaw.

"And I'm holding you to your word."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

He knew......he knew that sometime, sooner or later his relationship with you had to end. Only he hoped it would be much later...much later. Yunho always blamed himself. He tried to remind himself over and over again that there was absolutely deep between you two. It was strictly a no strings attached relationship.

So why was he getting bothered by someone else coming in your life hoping to steal you away? After all, if either of you wanted to see other people, you had every right to.

"What's on your mind little one?" He asked you out of nowhere earlier that day as you poked at your food, hardly taking a bite out of anything even though it included some of your favorite dishes.

You shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. Scooting his chair closer to you, he lifted your face up so he could look at your eyes.

"Tell me." He urged you.

You still kept quiet though, afraid that if you said anything he'd be mad, hurt or anything of the sort. But Yunho only chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Go see that boy."

You were startled by his words, wondering how on earth he knew about it.

"Go on your little date with him. Who knows? Maybe you two will hit it off or something. Have a little fun."

Although he encouraged you enthusiastically, now he was sitting on the couch watching the hours go by. It was late, well not too late, but still late. He started thinking if perhaps you would spend the night with this new guy, but his mind quickly shut away all those thoughts. He hated admitting it, but it pained him to picture you in someone else's arms. He started cursing himself for allowing his heart to develop feelings for you when you probably didn't even think of him in that way.

Little did he know you were sulky at having him encourage you to see someone else like nothing, like he did not care about you. And although you had a nice date, the guy wasn't who you wanted. The person you wanted was waiting back home no doubt, so you made it back home early, hoping he was still there, which thankfully he was.

"Hey, had fun on your-"

You didn't let Yunho finish his sentence when you suddenly straddled his lap and began kissing him fervently. He could only groan as he pulled you closer to him.

"You know I'll still take care of you? You don't have to do this if you don't want to." He pulled back to remind you that, bracing himself for your answer.

"I know.....but do you know that what I want is you?" You finally admitted, shocking Yunho to the core.

He let out an involuntary smile as he realized his feelings were indeed reciprocated on your part. Stroking your hair in an affectionate way, he pulled you into another kiss.

"You're either really young and naive, or really dumb my little one." He teased you, squishing your cheeks together.

You frowned at his teasing, hating how he constantly reminded you of your age difference and used it to baby you.

"Shut up and make love to me already old man, that is if you can even get it up."

Yunho giggled at your snarky remark, flipping positions so he could pin you on the couch.

"Trust me my little one, with you around it's impossible to keep it down."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang was restless ever since you went on vacation. Since it was summer break and his daughter was spending time with her maternal grandmother, there was no need for you to stay with them for the time being and honestly, you deserved a nice break to enjoy yourself and go be the free, young spirit you were after spending months cooped up inside that mansion looking after an intelligent and adorably sardonic 8 year old.

His mind was no longer focused. He didn't have a lot of things to do and even the small tasks he had to do he found them too difficult. He couldn't stop thinking about you. His thoughts kept revolving back to you and the nights he spent by your side, either when he snuck inside your room or he brought you into his room while his wife was away. He was missing your body, missing you, missed talking to you as he caressed your body after a passionate night of love making.

He was in the middle of those thoughts when his trusted butler came in, the sly smile on his face signaling he had useful information.

"Well? How is she? Is she all right?" Yeosang asked, having had his butler go stalk you out and report back to him on how you were.

"Oh you'll find Miss Y/N is in good health and.... in very good hands." He let out a muffled chuckle as he placed a folder in front of his master, containing photos and all sorts of information he deemed useful and interesting enough for Yeosang to know.

Not exactly liking the taunting tone the man used, Yeosang poured over the folder's contents, his eyes narrowing in on the rather attractive young man who seemed to be on almost every picture with you. You seemed to be having a lot of fun with him given that you were going out clubbing with him always by you, his arms always draped around you. Or you'd be seeing taking walks with him, his stance too close to you for Yeosang's liking. His nose twitched in disgust and he began tearing up any photo with the young man in it.

"Get the car ready and your swimming trunks in a luggage. We're going on a little trip." Yeosang smiled passive aggressively.

"I take it Madame must not know of this?" The old man raised a curious eyebrow.

"Exactly. Precisely." Yeosang chuckled, the two partners sharing a knowing and mischievous look.

After a long night at a beach party and too many margaritas, you dragged your feet to your hotel room, nearly stumbling in due to how tipsy you were but you were caught by strong arms that you had recently been missing.

"Mr. Kang.." You immediately sobered up as you stared at his handsome face.

"Remember what we agreed on? That I want you to drop the formalities?"

You giggled as he began pressing soft kisses on your lips, one after another.

"Go on. Say it."

Giving in, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yeosang."

Sighing contentedly, Yeosang held you for a while, just enjoying your warmth as he inhaled your scent that he missed. But he soon grimaced when he detected a strange odor on you.

"You reek like him." He huffed out, clearly annoyed at smelling another man on you.

"Is that the reason you came all the way out here?" You snorted, yet flattered to know he cared that much.

You squealed as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.

"Just don't talk and let's get rid of that disgusting stench. I don't want you smelling like anyone else but me."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San glared for the hundredth time at the classmate who lately had been irritating him to no end by coming over just to go see you at work. He rolled his eyes as he heard the airhead dick say how he didn't understand a certain assignment just to have you bend over and pour over the information with him. You were too nice to say no.

"And too dumb to notice he's only paying attention to your chest." He let out a disgruntled sigh as he organized the books on the shelf for the 7th time, not wanting to move from his spot in case the little shithead decided to try anything on you.

Wanting him to go away, he sneakily crept up behind the counter and sneakily brushed his hand across your ass, fingertips slightly ruffling the hem of your skirt.

"Y/N if you're done with your little tutoring session, I need you to help me look over the accounting ok?"

You nodded, realizing you had wasted enough of your boss's time. Giving your classmate an apologetic smile, you told him you'd help him some other time. Although saddened by not spending more time with you, he did not want you to lose your job or get you in trouble.

"You truly are an angel Y/N. What would I ever do without you?" He pouted at you, trying to look as cute as possible.

"I'm sure your hand has kept you company quite nicely all these years, you'll be fine." San couldn't help but smirk as he said that loud enough for both of you to hear, shocking you and embarrassing your classmate, who quickly walked out of the book shop with his head lowered.

Not very happy with his little joke, you looked over at your boss who had his back turned to you as his eyes stared at the computer screen.

"That was rather rude and disrespectful don't you think?" You shook your head at him.

"Not as rude and disrespectful as annoying someone at their job with lame excuses just so they can get a peek at a nipple or an ass cheek." He replied nonchalantly, unbothered and unrepentant of his behavior.

You let out a sarcastic laugh.

"That's a bit rich coming from you don't you think? Given all the times you've stared at me when I've bent down or stood on top of the stool." You reminded him.

Turning his head to look at you, San smiled at you with such a deceivingly sweet smile, accentuating his cute dimples that never failed to make you melt.

"See here now my young apprentice, if I remember correctly, you would purposefully bend over just for me, you were begging me to check you out, even started cutting the length of these skirts so I'd look at your legs."

Humming softly, your hands went to his collared shirt, undoing the top buttons to expose the top of his chest.

"Guilty as charged then Boss..... so... are you gonna write me up or cut my pay for slacking off at work yet again?" You taunted him as you brushed your lips against his.

Playing along with your little game, San chuckled and gripped your waist.

"Oh no my little apprentice. I'm not that type of boss. I prefer a different punishment."

You let out a gasp as he suddenly turned you around and pressed your upper body down against the glass case, his foot separating your legs apart as he fumbled with his belt.

"I'm gonna bend you over and fuck that pretty ass of yours til it's stretched open."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

You were starting to get pissed off at the thought of Mingi blowing you off on yet another date. It was the third time he had done it and you were starting to get fed up honestly.

"For someone who claims to be responsible and mature he sure can't seem to freaking keep his word." She muttered angrily to yourself as you swirled the leftover ice in your drink.

Out of nowhere, a young stud slid onto the seat right in front of you. With two drinks in hand, he slid one of them across to you. You eyed the drink suspiciously, wondering if he was one of those types to add some kind of drug just so he could easily kidnap you or something.

"Relax doll face, I promise I didn't spike it or anything." He assured you.

Shrugging and realizing you had nothing to loose, you instantly downed the drink with ease. You tried not to grimace at the fruity beverage the stranger got you.

"What does he take me for? A little pussy that drinks bitch beers?" You thought to yourself, though you couldn't blame him. You were pretty young and most mistook your youth for inexperience or naivety. Little did they know you could down the hardest of liquors down as if it was water.

"Tell me doll face, why are you here all alone? Looking all moody and dejected?"

You pondered on whether you should really say anything or make up something. Neither it seems. You opted for a more vague explanation.

"Just tired of being stood up I guess. No biggie." You rolled your shoulders back.

The man looked at you with a sad and pitiful look. He began to wonder why would anyone stand up such a beautiful and gorgeous woman like yourself? Whoever they were, they were either stupid or blind.

"Well the night is still young. Why don't you come back with me to my place and have a little fun? No strings attached and I can promise you you'll be more than satisfied." He offered, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You looked him up and down. Truthfully you'd turn him down merely for being so close to your age, still not very attracted to younger males, given that they promised more than they could offer. But sizing him up, he seemed to be well endowed, definitely above average. And besides you were frustrated by Mingi blowing you off that it wouldn't hurt to have a little rendezvous with someone else.

Sensing your hesitation, he smirked and began pulling your chair closer to him, his hand slithering its way up your skirt.

"Trust me doll face. You have nothing to worry about."

"No but you will if you don't take off your filthy hands off her right now."

You were startled yet amused when Mingi popped out of nowhere and pushed the guy's hand off you before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.

"Come on let's go. We're leaving." He gave you no choice as he began dragging you away, only to be stopped by the young man as he stepped in front of you two.

"Hold on here, you can't just haul her away like that. What are you? Her dad?" He scoffed, arms crossed as he looked Mingi up and down with disdain.

Instead of getting offended, Mingi simply smirked as he slipped his hand around your waist, pressing your body against his.

"Yeah, I'm her daddy, at least that's what she calls me at night."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung's eyes pierced daggers into the man that was currently talking to you. He had seen him countless times at the strip club where you used to work. He knew the man had more than just a crush on you, he was practically obsessed with you. More than once he had tried to get a private show from you but Wooyoung always made sure those plans were thwarted since he didn't want anyone else looking let alone touching his prized possession. Hence why he took you out of there and kept you all to himself.

And now he was fuming at this crazed fan of yours wanting to get close to you once more, no doubt trying to get in your pants. He saw how he kept leaning close to you or stepping up to you. Each time he did, you would step away, slightly uncomfortable by his close proximity and even more uncomfortable at how he talked with so much detail about your previous performances at the club, detailing things that not even you remembered.

"You know I don't even go there anymore. It's a waste of time." He admitted, a frown on his face.

"Oh really?." You asked, trying hard to hide your sarcasm, not really interested in anything he had to say.

"Yeah, you're not there anymore so what's the point? Although...."

You froze in place when his hands came up to cup your chin.

"I would give anything to see you strip one last time." He winked at you.

His hand was harshly pulled away from you by Wooyoung, who shoved him so hardly he actually landed on the floor.

"Too bad you're never going to see that ever again you punk."

Linking your arm with his, Wooyoung dragged you back to the car where he then drove full speed back to your apartment. As soon as you both stepped inside, his hands were all over you, mouth devouring your own as a trail of clothes leading into your bedroom was scattered on the hallway. You had never seen Wooyoung jealous before and it turned you on so much. His possessiveness was even more evident as his nails dug into your skin, his hips slamming into your ass as his cock plunged deep inside you, threatening to pull another orgasm out of your body.

"You're my little whore, no one else's."

You let out a yelp when his hand came down to strike one of your already burning cheeks once more, his hand printed all over your ass.

"My little fuck toy that I can play with as I want." He growled, pistoning his cock even deeper in you.

"Ah! Yes! I'm your toy Wooyoung!" You cried out, breathing heavily and whimpering loudly as tears streaked down your cheeks, your vision starting to go blank once more as you felt yourself ready to burst once more around Wooyoung's cock.

"Fuck! Yeah. My little fuck toy. All mine and no one else's."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho fought hard not to scoff or roll his eyes at the man sitting across from both you and him. He was a nice young man that recently started working for your father, very responsible and efficient. And your father liked him so much he took it upon himself to have the two of you meet up in with hopes of getting you two together. The man of course was elated by you. You were so pretty and charming and was already head over heels for you.

Jongho and you were not very happy about it though, Jongho more displeased than you. At least you could mask your dislike of him better, being all smiles and kind to him. It honestly sickened Jongho seeking you be all fake, proper and polite when he knew better than anyone your true character.

"Sweetheart, you know this young man was the one who suggested we strike that deal with that other company? And his plan worked out brilliantly." Your father couldn't stop gloating about the man's accomplishments.

"Oh really? Do tell me all about it." You feigned interest.

"Oh my fucking god, I swear to hell-" Jongho fought back the urge to slam his fork against his plate, not wanting to listen to another boring and excruciatingly painful gloating from the idiot in front of them.

Minutes into the story and Jongho was already dozing off, bored to death by the incessant chatter coming from the man across you both. Looking over at you, he could tell you were bored too. A wicked plan came to his head. But you were both bored so why not make it fun. You at first thought nothing about having him press a hand on your thigh under the table, he'd often do that every now and then. But you started to worry when he began to travel his hand further up to cup your clothed heat. It was such a risky thing to do at the dinner table, with your parents and a guest right there. You tried to stop him when he tried to tug your underwear down, but were met by a pinch against your inner thigh. You covered your mouth with your napkin and pretended to cough in order to hide the squeak that escaped you. Giving in, you slightly lifted yourself off your chair and let Jongho slide your panties down.

He pretended to drop his phone just so he could stoop down and pick up your panties off the floor. You watched as he stuffed them in his pocket, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk. Suddenly you felt your phone vibrate in your purse. Glancing briefly, you saw a text from none other than your secret lover right next to you.

"After dinner. My place. You're lucky you're off for the next few days cause I'll make sure you won't be able to walk after I'm done with you."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez angst #dilf!ateez #ateez dilf au #ateez headcanons #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years ago

Text

Separation, Connection - 2/2

Pairing →Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Your friendship with Bucky deterioates when you catch him in a compromising position with a fellow agent.

Word Count → 3.5k

SSB2021 Square Fill → Table Sex - @star-spangled-bingo

BBB2021 Square Fill → “You’re such a tease” - @buckybarnesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, jealousy, smut. sexual activities, swearing.

Betas → @fandomfic-galore // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → I cannot believe how much everybody has loved part one, honestly, I am over the moon with all your comments and disdain for Bucky’s behaviour! I hope you like this part and I cannot wait to read your comments about how things turn out...

Firefly’s Masterlist

READ PART ONE HERE!

Previously: You paused in the doorway, but you had to be strong, to carry on walking away, you couldn’t let him hurt you again. It was time to move on.

The suite was filled with an assortment of flowers, sweet treats, and gift boxes, all unopened. From bright coloured ribbon to delicate lace detailing, the space was overwhelming and the sentiment behind each one wasn’t even close to what you wanted, needed from Bucky.

You laid on your couch, looking up to the ceiling, balloons filled with confetti swaying into view. Surely Bucky knows that he can’t buy your friendship. But maybe he is sorry. You looked over to your best friend sitting on the floor beside you, supposedly deeply invested in their book until a smirk formed on their face.

Wanda turned to you, “You already know what I think you should do - go and talk to him.”

She was right, you probably should talk to him. You knew Bucky hadn’t just tried to buy your friendship. It was in the way he’d hold the door open for you, drop off a coffee when you were doing paperwork, and how he’d always check in with you before, during and after training and missions. It was sweet, and not too dissimilar to the Bucky from before. However, this time, he made you even more nervous; the boyish charm that he didn’t use with you often was more noticeable, and the mischievous sparkle in his eye made you squirm.

“Okay.” You sat up, twisting to plant your feet on the ground, “I’m going to tell him. FRIDAY, where is Sergeant Barnes?”

The AI addressed you, “He’s currently sparring in the gym.”

You skipped down the corridor, leg bouncing in the elevator and wishing you’d taken the stairs as it would have been quicker at this rate, with excitement bubbling in your chest at how you would greet Bucky, accept his apology and forgive him. Then you’d tell him how you feel about him and deal with the rejection when it came to it but right now, all you wanted was your friend back.

Gliding through the automatic sliding doors, the spring in your step propelling forward into the gym and greeting the other gym users with a beaming smile or nod. The approach to the sparring ring had the nerves tickle under your skin and you bit your lip in hopes to ground yourself.

It’s only Bucky, your best friend. He wants you in your life. You reminded yourself and weaved between the agents to look at the spectacle that had gathered such a crowd. Bucky had an agent pinned to the ground, those thick muscular thighs straddled across them and the ones in his bulging bicep rippling as he applied pressure on his forearm against their windpipe.

“Bet they’ve been in that position more than once before,” an agent laughed, joined in by a couple of other peers.

Your stomach twisted at the comment and the sudden movement in the sparring ring had you pausing the step forward. It was her; they’d twisted in the tussle and she was now facing you and straddling Bucky’s hips. She panted above him and attempted to wrap her hand around his neck.

“Oh yeah, they’ve done this before, with a lot fewer clothes.” The agent beside you commented to another chorus of sniggers and laughs.

Nails dug into the palm of your hands as you steeled your nerves, jaw clenched and tongue pressing hard against the roof of your mouth. She glanced up at the murmurs and spotted you, a smirk on her painted lips. You couldn’t stand the sight and spun on your heel, wanting nothing more than to escape, again.

Bucky rolled his head back and saw your retreating figure between the legs of the crowd. Without a second thought, he shoved the agent off him and got to his feet and shoving the people aside in a bid to catch up to you. This couldn’t happen, not again.

You smashed through the doors, almost swinging it off the hinge. You hadn’t even looked back at him and he wasn’t sure if you even knew he was there until he heard a frustrated growl, one he’d never heard from you before. Bucky turned the corner to find you slumped against the wall by the elevator, head hanging low.

He stepped forward but was stopped by your raised hand, “Please just leave me alone.”

Bucky’s heart cracked at the defeat in your voice, the way you caved into yourself. Not letting him help with whatever it was you were dealing with. He knew what had happened, saw the agent above him grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky leant his side against the wall, giving you enough space but still able to watch your every move in case you tried to run away again, “Please talk to me.”.

“I was ready to forgive you.” You glared at him, he could see the tears threatening to spill, clinging to your eyelashes and ready to fall.

“Oh sweetheart,” Bucky reached to cup your cheek, but you batted him away and stood up straight as the elevator made its presence known. He went to follow you into the lift but once again, you stopped him with an outstretched arm.

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that.” You gritted your teeth and took a step back, “Please just leave, James. Go back to your mating ritual or whatever that was out there.”

Bucky was at a loss for words, he knew he’d betrayed your trust when it came to not talking about his sexual rendezvous but now, he was stumped. You were jealous and he finally realised why you hadn’t accepted his gifts. You didn’t want his attention or just his friendship; you wanted his affection, his love and he wanted to give that to you.

You meant the world to him, and yes, he’d broken the number one rule when it comes to friendship, he needed to explain why he did what he did. But first, he needed to get you to listen which was the more difficult part. You were stubborn and closed yourself off whenever someone tried to pry inside that pretty head of yours.

Bucky was willing to get inside, whatever it took, whatever you needed.

“No doll, I’m not leaving you. We need to talk about this.” Bucky stepped past you and pulled you into the elevator.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to shake Bucky, and he’d follow you into your suite. You wanted him to but also didn’t at the same time. Your head and heart were in a conflict that left you frustrated and ready to snap.

The flowers mocked you, the balloons swaying with a smirk and the unopened packages sparkled in knowing. Ignoring the gifts, you strode through the suite and into the dining room with Bucky hot on your heels.

“Please can you give me some space?” You sighed, a hand dragging down your face.

“Okay,” Bucky held his hands up in submission, “look, I know what I did, I betrayed your trust, I know what I said hurt your feelings.”

You scoffed, that was an understatement, turning to look at him and leaning against the kitchen cabinets, hands braced on the counter, knuckles whitening as you tried to maintain your composure.

“I can only hope that one day you’ll forgive me and let me back in, to be on your side again. I should have told you about-”

“Don’t you dare say her name.” You pointed at him. Bucky smirked, making you even angrier than before. “Are you getting a kick out of this?”

“No, of course not, what is wrong with you?” Bucky’s smile faded instantly, and he shook his head, “I’m trying to talk to you and you’re jumping down my throat the second I speak.”

You reared your head back, mouth agape, you knew he was right but considering he dared to say it out loud was enough for your blood to boil over. You went to shove past Bucky, to escape to your bedroom or bathroom but he twisted you both around and pushed you against the wall.

“Will you just stop for one second.” Bucky held your squirming body, “I’m trying to tell you how I feel.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” The tears finally fell as you thought of him loving her, the words stuttering out, “We’re- just- friends.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and leant forward, you pushed his chest in a panic but unable to escape his hold and then raised your hand to punch him. Bucky’s hand closed around your fist before it could hit his cheek and he held your arms above your head.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N, I’m trying to kiss you.” He growled, his legs pinning your leg in place.

“Still want to kiss me after I tried to punch you?” You were angry and confused. Wasn’t he telling you about his feelings for that woman that was straddling him earlier? “You’re only interested because I met someone else. That I don’t let you get under my skin anymore.”

Bucky growled again and surged forward, this time you didn’t stop his mouth from descending on yours. The bruising kiss relaxed your body into his hold, yet it was fully alert to his flesh hand kneading at your waist and the cool metal cupping your cheek.

Your mind floated away, all coherence and why you were angry disappeared until Bucky pulled back, leaving you both panting and eyes closed. You suddenly realised that you should stop; your heart was telling you to run but your body demanded more. You wanted him.

You yanked Bucky back to you at the nape of his neck and crashing your lips to his again. Tongues swiped along each of your mouths, teeth nipped at one another. He knew exactly what to do, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip again and he began rocking your hips down against the thick muscle. Warmth bloomed in your tummy from the friction of Bucky’s sweatpants against your clothed core.

His locks found their way around your fingers and the slight tug elicited a moan from his plump lips, parting you both momentarily. Eyes locked, pupils dilated in lust, and warm heavy breaths filled the space. You were momentarily lost in the feelings, overwhelmed but unsatiated. The anger still simmered in your veins; the venom was heavy on your tongue for what he put you through, but you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. You had to have him, at least once, and it would be on your terms.

You somehow managed to spin the hunk of a super soldier around, pressing his back against the wall. The smell of Bucky; that woodsy musk and sweat overwhelmed your senses, you’d been close to him but not this close. Without thinking you, began peppering wet kisses down the column of his neck, nipping at his collarbone. He tried to explore your body, hands dipping under the hem of your shirt and you almost caved into their search before you pulled away.

Being this close to Bucky, to finally getting somewhat of what you had dreamed of was putting your head in a spin, but you needed to get him out of your system. What better way than to fuck it out? To fall over the precipice of ecstasy and let it wash away your desire and need for him. To move on from one, James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky’s brows furrowed at the uncertainty that was clearly painting your features, “are you-”

You didn’t want his reassurances right now, you just wanted him to kiss you again, “want you Bucky.”

“I know, but we need to get rid of this first,” Bucky was biting his lip as he pointed at your top.

You nodded and he slowly tugged it over your head, you were too impatient and pushed him back to the wall. Letting him drink in your body while removing your sports bra. The cool air against your skin was welcoming but didn't dampen the fire pooling in your belly.

You leant in to kiss him again, bringing both of his hands up to your breasts. It was messy, all teeth and tongues as you both fought for dominance. His fingers twisting and teasing at your nipples sent goosebumps across your skin. Bucky’s mouth began to explore your jaw and neck. It felt like he was everywhere, turning you into putty.

Is this what it felt like to be with him? To have him worshiping your body. Your mind flashed back to the moment you saw him pinning that agent against the wall, the way he’d fucked her. It soured the moment and you pulled away.

“Is this what you fucking do? Charm your way into women’s pants?” You were pacing back and forth, “I’m such a fool.”

Bucky hadn’t said a word, he was leaning against the wall and a forlorn look on his face, his hair spiking up every which way. It made your heart flutter and the noticeable erection under his pants was making your mouth water. He didn’t show an ounce of regret, he actually looked enamoured with you. No, it can’t be. You shook the thought from your head, letting the anger morph into passion again.

You strode over, he was ready to catch you the moment you leapt into his arms. Mouths crashing down on one another again in a heated battle. His hands held your back tight to his chest, your core almost, almost, getting what it needed through the material. You were lowered down, your back meeting the coolness of your kitchen table and Bucky kissed between your breasts, your eyes fluttering closed at the pleasure.

Bucky’s weight disappeared and his body moved away, leaving you cold and alone. You peeked open one eye, a slight fear that he’d have a face of regret but then you saw the look of desire and lopsided smile as he shimmied his pants and boxers to the floor.

He returned to the spot between your legs and, you almost had him where you wanted him as he reached out to pull at your leggings, but his hands paused, resting at your hips. Your brow furrowed, unsure of what he was thinking so you sat up, and he looked anywhere but your face.

You tucked a finger under his chin to bring his attention to you and whispered, “What is it?”

“Are you sure about this?” Bucky quietly asked.

“Of course, I am, I would have kicked you out the moment you got here otherwise.” You smiled and pulled him closer to press your lips to his cheek.

You slowly edged down his jaw line with small light kisses, spurred on by feeling him relax under your touch. Teeth grazed along his pulse, Bucky moaning into the now electrified kitchen. He pulled you to the edge of the table and lifted slightly to remove your leggings, placing you back down gently.

You fell back against the table while his fingers rubbed over your soaked panties, swirling in rough motions. He swiped the material to the side, his fingers glided through your dripping folds. You were completely consumed by him and the way his fingers pumped and stretched your cunt open while his thumb caressed your clit.

“You’re such a tease.” A mumble of whimpers, profanities, and Bucky, left your lips as you tried to convey your need for him to fuck you, “Please.”

The words were silenced as his cock skimmed over your folds, nudging at your bundle of nerves, teasing you higher and higher into pleasure. It felt like it had been minutes, in reality it was mere seconds, when Bucky finally pushed the tip of his cock into your cunt, walls fluttering and stretching around him.

Gasps fell from both of your lips as Bucky adjusted his weight, shifting deeper inside you slowly with your walls clenching around him. Another thrust forward and he was burying himself to the hilt, filling you up completely. Your cunt was pulsing around him, dripping around his cock with want the moment Bucky grabbed your knee and pulled it up to his shoulder.

This new angle got him deeper and deeper with every thrust, the table creaking under the movement, you no longer cared, all you could think about was him and the pleasure he was giving you.

Your back arching and head spinning as Bucky kept the pace, unfaltering as you suddenly climbed to the peak of your orgasm. His grunts and skin slapping against skin was pushing you higher and higher. The wood cut into your palm as you held tightly to the edge with each wave of pleasure until you were unreservedly consumed by ecstasy.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Bucky spluttered, his movements matching his speech, “You’re gonna make me cum too quickly if you keep clenching like that.”

Your grip loosened and traded the wooden table to skim through your folds in search of more and to keep teasing your nipples, and Bucky. You bit your lip, watching him watch you touch yourself whilst he fucked you was turning you on.

Bucky regained his composure with a grunt, pushing your fingers away with his vibranium ones and began circling your clit. The cold metal sent a rush of pleasure across your skin, heating your desire.

“Cum again, I know you got another one in you, Doll.” Bucky smirked above you as he continued to ram into your cunt and flick at your clit in perfect unison.

Your vision blurred and your body keened, letting out a silent scream, you came undone around him. Body shaking as you felt Bucky grip your hips with both hands as he hit you harder and harder until he stilled, unloading inside of you.

“Fuck,” you rasped.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to get you anything or?” Bucky asked, as he collected the scattered clothes around the kitchen.

“I’m fine Bucky, thanks.” You replied, facing away from him, and clipping your bra back in place.

You could feel the tension in the room, and you hoped Bucky hadn’t noticed. You knew he would, he’s not stupid, but you secretly wished that it would be ignored. There were no regrets on your part and you’re sure Bucky enjoyed himself, it just seemed like you’d have to do a lot more talking than before. Maybe you should have started with that instead of letting him kiss you or letting yourself kiss him back.

“Do you want me to stay or go?” Bucky quietly asked as he put on his shirt.

You weren’t surprised at his care before but now you were for the uncertainty that laced his words, once you’d put on your shirt, you turned to him, “Come on Buck, I’m just another one of them, you just happen to know me a little better. It was just sex.”

If it wasn’t for his close proximity, you wouldn’t have heard the words that Bucky whispered; it wasn’t to me.

“What did you just say?” You looked at him in shock, heart racing at the blush forming on his cheeks.

“It wasn’t just sex to me.” He coughed into his hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ve always loved you Y/N and I’ve told you that a thousand times. Is there any chance we can be something more?”

You chewed on your lip, butterflies erupting in your belly at the prospect of what Bucky was asking, of the potential heart break you might endure. It was clouded by the way she had smirked at you in the gym, the gossip shared by Natasha and the advice Wanda had given you about self-care. It was all blurring into one and you didn’t know what to say or do. You were torn between your head and heart.

“I think it’s going to take more than gifts and sex. We had a frienship, and I trust you with my life but not with my heart.” You paused and tipped his face so you could really look at him, to see him, “I don’t think we can be something right now, but in time, I think we can get there.”

“Can we start over?” Bucky asked, eyes wide in hope as he leant into your palm.

You took a step away and stretched out your hand, “Nice to meet you Sergeant Barnes, I’m Agent Y/L/N. Do you know any decent places around here to get a bite to eat?”

Bucky’s large hand enveloped yours, a soft smile on his lips, “I know just the place.”

The End…

Separation, Connection Tag List: @coffeebooksandfandom / @ababysupernova / @learisa / @joseyrw / @bubblyz / @nadinesabre / @osterfieldshollandgirl / @clarinette07 / @amaltheametalweld / @iloveangstposts / @gogolucky13 / @ohjammers / @justiceiswater / @countonthesun / @propertyofpoeandbucky / @deaan / @iloveangstposts / @silverarmedassassin /

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos / @miraclesoflove / @lizzarooni

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#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes Angst #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Smut

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years ago

Text

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence.

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return.

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks.

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo.

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.”

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew:

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious.

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind.

This couldn’t be happening.

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him.

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…”

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat.

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove.

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.”

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—”

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.”

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.”

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—”

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.”

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs.

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk.

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did.

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue.

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—”

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.”

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—”

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.”

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses.

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.”

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot.

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him.

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.”

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached.

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.”

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore.

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure.

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.”

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head.

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do.

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations?

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability.

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position.

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.”

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.”

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!”

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova.

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.”

You’re hearing will never be as it was.

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current.

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out.

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies.

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight.

He needed a fucking drink.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs.

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy.

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets.

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb.

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again.

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more.

Except… he’d been standing still that time.

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet.

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving.

“What the fu—”

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later.

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs.

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face.

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots.

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth.

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight.

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue.

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky.

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way.

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them.

Dynamight was here to get the job done.

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head.

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc.

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him.

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet.

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god.

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch.

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him.

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought.

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze.

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar.

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals.

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again.

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air.

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window.

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then…

Nothing.

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

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time.

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes.

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop.

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat.

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place.

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way.

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to.

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled.

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business.

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia.

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite.

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least.

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers.

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst.

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things.

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself.

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps.

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself.

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good.

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet.

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help.

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful.

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful.

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own.

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone.

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train.

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you.

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.”

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief.

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.”

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts.

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking.

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away.

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out.

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments.

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes.

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass.

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms.

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms.

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash?

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs.

That sounded… closer.

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky.

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals.

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person.

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth.

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack.

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down.

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air.

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air.

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached.

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street.

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill.

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed.

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it.

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later.

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames.

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene.

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him.

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped.

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window.

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

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