#so i feel you. i also stopped responding after a while it got repetitive and superficial and honestly just draining

[snapbackslide]

i have yes! for some reason whenever i get messages i want to respond but i never do! i fear i may be scared of possible commitment or something because i’ve been like this for a while when i used to respond to every single message lol

maybe, it could also be that it gets boring to entertain pointless conversations with people you're not really interested in 🤷‍♀️ the fear of commitment is also valid tho, especially in this day and age with less and less people valuing loyalty to one person...

[tired-biscuit]

Logan would probably moan like he’s having the best sex of his life from just a shoulder massage. Do you think he’d deny he needs one? Or would you catch him off guard while he’s asleep?

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: friends to lovers, unexpected mutual pining, logan realises he’s touch-starved after you offer to give him a backrub, and you both get turned on by it.

divider credit: div1nepetal

what if you’re, like… his friend, who’s grown to care deeply about him over the years and wants nothing else but to help him out a little from time to time in simpler, more ‘humanly’ ways because of said caring?

i mean, he’s got super fast healing and all that jazz, sure, however that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get sore and thus — unbearably — cranky about it… and since you’ve known each other for so long, you’ve also gotten quite comfortable in each other’s company! so it wouldn’t be that odd if you were to offer to relieve the pain in your friend’s back when he swings by your place one random evening… right?

it’s really just to make him feel better, nothing else! because as soon as he flings himself onto his favoured spot on your worn out couch (a dent that he fucking made with the help of his heavy adamantium ass), you catch him repetitively stretching his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders every so often with a furrowed brow and a tight-lipped expression that somehow manages to appear even grumpier than his usual neutral.

you steal glances because of it. listen intently to the laboured sighs he keeps letting out. and after leering at him and his struggles from the corner of your eye for a little while, not at all paying attention to the movie that you’re supposed to be watching with him, you finally succumb. you turn to the side and propose your offer whilst wiggling your magic fingers, as you like to call them, right in front of his face, and logan, as is expected, denies it by gently swatting your hand away.

taking over pretty much the entire space on the couch from how he’s manspreading, he doesn’t even peel his eyes from the television that — unlike you — he’s actually watching when he tells you that, “you don’t gotta worry about it” and that it’s not that bad, then. for some reason, he even feels the need to add that he can handle himself just fine.

it all makes your eyes roll.

and instead of listening, you rather choose to persist. he’s a wall whenever he makes up his mind on something, you know this, but you also know that if you nag him and scold him for long enough, prodding and picking at the cracks between phantom bricks, he’ll have no choice but to give in and give you what you want just to make you stop… though not without adding a snide comment or two himself during it because he can’t help but act like a dick sometimes around the people he’s fond of, it’s just the way he is!

as you tell him to scooch over and lay on his stomach, you feel just a little bit bad that you had to resort to annoying him in order to being allowed to help him. however, the guilt isn’t nearly as strong as is the sense of victory that you’ve just achieved, so you allow it to curl the corners of your lips into a satisfied, cat-like smile while you busy yourself by straddling the small of his back. he can’t see your face anyway, so what’s the issue?

meanwhile, logan lets out a tired exhale, smushing one cheek against the decorative pillow that he’s folded his arms under so that he can still watch the tv while you work your supposed magic. he listens to your sheepish apology and request to tell you if you’re too heavy, to which he responds by calling it nonsense and that you’re insulting him by thinking you’re heavy whilst sitting on top of a guy who’s literally filled with metal.

and filled with metal he is, indeed! it’s not long before you realize just how much freaking pressure you have to apply to his shoulders and back in order to make him feel something. how much physical strength you have to put into it, to the point that you’re nearly sweating because of it. popping a bone in order to ease some of the tension is literally impossible, so you aim your focus onto the taut cords of muscle instead.

you can see them even through the thin white shirt that he’s wearing — they’re that profound. flexed and attractive, attained with hard work. but they become even more visible when he reluctantly lets you roll the hem of his shirt up towards the collar, unfolding his arms just so that he can lift the upper half of his body, and you right along with him, with no visible effort whatsoever.

the air in the room shifts a little after that; it gets kind of tense. because all of a sudden, you’re skin to skin. his should be covered in scars, but he’s lucky enough to have them all healed and smoothed away by his power. and while he may not be able to feel relief in his adamantium-covered bones, he sure as hell can feel the warmth of your palms running down the slopes of his broad shoulders, the grazing of your nails that nearly makes him shiver when they reach a particularly ticklish part on the nape of his neck, the heat between your legs as you continue to sit on him, dressed in nothing else but a pair of comfortable and tiny shorts…

forcing himself to be a loner, logan isn’t used to being touched like this all that much, and it makes him sensitive. and as a result, he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and groan in absolute pleasure when you readjust by wiggling your hips on top of him and lean in super close to really dig your fingers into his strong back.

you pause at the sound; he can hear your breathing hitch a little before it continues to fan his shoulder blade. he’s already halfway on opening his mouth to say something in order to avoid things from getting too awkward even if he’s not the kind of man who minds if they do, when all of a sudden it hits him.

it’s barely there, just the faintest whiff of something sticky and sweet. it would be impossible to catch by a normal human, but he isn’t a normal human, now is he? no, he’s a mutant — a primal one, at that — and because of it, his nose is more than capable of catching a scent like this.

you’re… aroused. have gotten turned on by the sound he just made. are getting wetter between the legs by the second. and he can smell it.

fuck.

logan chooses not to say anything even if the pheromones that he’s steadily inhaling now are making his blood grow feverish to dangerous levels. meanwhile, you choose to remain quiet as well, simply continuing your ministrations as if nothing has happened.

something that does change, however, is the way you touch him. from that hiccup onward, you get more, should you say, intimate with it; even daring to comb your fingers through his rich, dark hair at some point and experimentally tugging at the roots, making him actually shiver this time.

he doesn’t just shiver, though. the action is so freaking good that it also causes his eyes to roll into the back of his head — he silently prays that he’s managed to squeeze them shut for a second time before you could catch it.

and that’s not all there is to it either. by now, his cock has become painfully hard in his pants. thick, hot and leaking pre-cum from how excited he’s getting. it makes laying down on his stomach extremely uncomfortable, but he thinks it’s better to suffer through it than enabling you to see what you’re doing to him both physically and mentally.

mind fogged by a mixture of your and now his own lust, he’s getting so horny that all he wants to do is rut into the couch while you continue to touch him. he doesn’t, of course, he’s been around for over two centuries so he’s pretty good at restraining himself, however that doesn’t mean that he likes doing it.

so he remains decent… well, somewhat. he pants a little bit, and he grunts and curses under his breath in a way that makes him sound like he’s balls deep in your cunt, folding you in a mating press and pounding away until you’re nothing but a whiny mess and his cum is trickling down your thighs, but he still tries his very best.

by the time you pat him on the shoulders and tell him you’ve finished, he fears he did, too.

[moneymartin]

jealous possessive Lottie hcs?:3

🦌- jealous!lottie hcs

used nat as the punching bag here but this includes every other yj or wtv. this is so lowk kinda long sry i got lured in real deep. also probably makes no sense lol!

honestly i don’t think she’s a very jealous girl… she’s moreso the type to just cling to you a lot cause she’s scared 😭

but ohhhh my lord when she sees you with someone from her team it’s all over

she starts off easy probably asking simple questions like “oh, what were you and nat talking about yesterday at lunch?”

she doesn’t wanna seem too obvious but you can tell there’s something wrong

when you and that specific teammate hang out a lot more lottie tends to take much more notice. she’s noting down the times you come back to her place after that hangout and shit

the times are extremely repetitive and you come home around the same time which makes her believe you’re hooking up with them…….

that makes lottie become a lot more mean because she truly does not have the heart to end things with you. she can only be mean. also i genuinely can’t see her breaking things off i know she’d be a mess 😣

when you ask her questions it’s kind of like the typical jealousy filled answer.

you ask her for the homework answers and she’ll say “go ask nat.” and you can’t really get them out of her cause she’s so mad. you’d literally ask her “what’s for dinner” and she’d respond with something completely unrelated like “maybe nat can make you dinner??” OMFG WHAT A BJTCH

before one of the hangouts you have with that person lottie pulls you to the side for a few minutes before you leave

she’s on your lap and biting your neck to mark you up >__< leaving hickeys on your jaw and neck and on your collarbone. WHEW

the person you’re always with notices them and asks you whats wrong but you just say it’s a bunch of bites 💀💀

after that lottie tends to mark you up a lot more. especially in bed. scratching your back and arms as hard as she can. not to the point where it bleeds i think just to the point where they’re extremely noticeable

when you come home and she sees a ‘new hickey’ she is DONE! it’s not even new though it’s literally her’s she jus doesn’t remember it -_-

but she’s too fed up and takes you up to the bedroom to strip everything off of you

she takes her anger out on you during the sex…

like she’ll probably drive into you with her strap soo hard. it’s smth you aren’t very used to yet but she could care less

also tries to choke you too but you do that little tapping thing on her hand so she can stop. she feels bad but keeps going anyways cause shes so fucking jealous

during it she’ll grunt things out like “can they fuck you like i can??!” and it gets you real confused 😭 “bet they can’t be this deep in you, huh? is that right?!”

afterwards you’d confront her about it though. asking her what she meant by that and then she says “well, you’ve been hanging out with (whoever) wayy too much, and i- i got jealous and…”

she babbles on a bunch and starts crying even though you’re the one who practically got ripped in half!!!

you manage to comfort her though saying things like “y’know i’m just hanging out with them because they’re my friend. i’m not that type of person, lott.” while you wipe away her tears 😞💔

anyways she somehow starts to fall asleep before you do while she traces the scratches on your back

in the morning she kisses all of the purple and reddish hickeys on your skin to apologize for being jealous and way too rough the night before. she also kisses the scratches and helps you treat them with some creams ☹️

[tamelee]

As a beginner artist im only happy when people reupload and share my art. I don’t want to be arragont enough to think im like samdoesart or something and you’re not really on that level either no offense though your art is inspiring me a lot

Okay, I'll address this then... (Art-rant for anyone who cares;) 

... no offense taken. I'm very aware of my (skill)’level' in art and definitely feel a certain type of way about it ;-; .... but that aside, what is your argument here?

Is anyone who doesn't want their art reposted or uploaded on other accounts considered arrogant? Is there some kind of popularity threshold you need to cross before you can request something as simple as this? And if so, what's that threshold to you? I'm genuinely curious.

When does someone become "good" enough to have the right to say that their art is theirs and protect it from being stolen or decide where it gets shared? Who has any say in it, other than the artist or creator themselves? Isn't that extremely subjective to base it solely on that?

Hm. If you're a beginner artist, I'd like to offer some advice....

It's entirely up to you whether you read it, give it any thought, or find it valuable in any way. I'm no Sam, after all. But there are plenty of ways for others to support your art, engage with it, or share it even in their own accounts without taking anything away from the original creator, whether it's art/writing or any other type of creation. However, it's also perfectly fine if you personally don't care about it or if someone allows it only with proper credit because that's your decision as.. you know- the original creator.

You mentioned that you're happy when your art gets reuploaded as a form of "sharing." But do you know what makes me the happiest as an artist Nonee?

Do you know what really brightens my day? 🥹

...It's knowing what people are saying about my work because I can read it on my own posts that are on my own accounts. When I can respond and take it in fully. When I see people using tags that make me snort my drink or when I have to stifle a laugh to the point I’m choking because it's just SO funny! (I genuinely need to make a compilation!!) Sometimes, I get comments that are cursing me out in a playful manner, and it's often followed by an incoherent keyboard-smash. I end up making embarrassing alien-like noises because of it that makes me more grateful than ever to live alone. Other times, I bawl my eyes out because someone left a comment or tagged it with something that just hits differently. A while ago, I got an ask that said I should stop saying 'thank you' on everything because it got repetitive/annoying(?), but I genuinely feel so grateful for all of it 😭!!

I get new ideas because someone suggested something different. I see friends having entire conversations under a drawing that I'm not even a part of because apparently, what I drew resonated with them personally, or it made them feel a certain way, which is oddly fulfilling with art ;-; Just so you know, I read everything... and all this feedback (because it's all feedback in a way) can be very inspiring, don't you think?

Honestly, when it comes to activities like drawing, it's true that it is better to never do it solely for the sake of engagement. Drawing, or more specifically, living as an (aspiring) artist is incredibly lonely.

So, so lonely...

Relying on engagement alone to keep you creating for hours, days, years, or maybe even decades is just not sustainable. It takes an enormous amount of time and dedication to practice, come up with new ideas, and endure the inevitable frustrations that come with it. With anything, keeping yourself inspired at times takes effort also because it requires for you to be in a state of mind that allows new idea’s in the first place which in itself takes practice because you won’t always feel like drawing. You might even encounter nasty comments or discover that something you poured your heart into gets criticized, YOU as a person may even be criticized because what you drew with your current skills (and such a journey is never-ending) in a single moment could get paired with your entire personality or even your humanly morals (ffs) to judge. Which can be more hurtful than you'd expect... especially in the beginning.

Although it may sound silly, the saying "the fun is in the journey” is very real and likely the most important thing to keep you going as an artist. No matter what, you gotta have fun or find a way to have fun.

Yet, even so, now more than ever, the process of creating is very underappreciated as many are looking for “content” that's quickly generated for entertainment. Tsk, some even call art “content” which, IT IS NOT. It's a proven fact that we, as humans, currently have become dopamine junkies with short attention spans. (I totally understand this – I was diagnosed with ADD, hence my extreme hyper-fixations also 😆 it's both a blessing and a curse, tbh.) So, right now, the very thing that can support artists (which means you as a beginner also!) on their creative journey is letting them know you appreciate their art in any way or just let them know your thoughts maybe even by specifying what it was you liked about it so they can carry that into their next drawing.. which is only truly possible through your own accounts y’know? :’) I'm being sincere when I say this really can help. 

I get that many people believe that creating should be satisfying in itself, and everyone may expect you to think that way because, after all, you want people to see what you've made and a reposter ‘helps’ you with that, so, it should be enough and you should be happy and grateful actually. Anything beyond that might be considered "arrogant."

And... based on your ask, it seems like you might view having your art reuploaded as a form of 'help,' and if that's the case, it's totally fine. But I want to share a rather harsh reality, because even if those who repost your art provide credit...

They don’t do it for you and it’s not necessarily because they love your art so much 👀 rarely anyone cares to go through a description full with useless trend-based tags or promotive texts they always use only to put in the effort to find your name and most likely, if they follow such accounts there is zero connection with the original artist/creator which means it is WAY more likely in this case that the art you worked on for idk how long ends up becoming a forgettable blur as it is scrolled past 🤷🏻‍♀️

And even if the reposter likes your art personally, that's probably not their primary motivation to share it (except for a very few who are in it for a fandom, sns has a few also). Art that gets ‘selected’ for reposting is typically selected with a specific, often trend-oriented, goal that has little to do with the artist. It's frequently shared with the mindset of a rather poorly-driven marketer. Especially on platforms like IG- many of these accounts exist to benefit the account owner only by making high(er)-follower accounts that later get a different purpose. Many of these accounts will discard all art once it has reached an engagement goal to then move onto something new that's more financially profitable to the account owner, which original art by others is not. And yeah, a lot of these accounts are sold after. There are especially many now due to the IG affiliate program, and recently tiktok also. The same is quickly happening on X with its monetization... and guess what :’)!!! Although original art is hard to monetize, Ai is completely approved.... 🤨🙄 But I won't bore you with all the specifics any longer.

Me not wanting my art on other platforms/accounts, has little to do with credit nor do I think in the very least that I have some sort of control over it by making that decision... but still. I refuse to willingly take part in anything that currently takes ‘art’ (any creative form) and makes a mockery of it, using it for mere "content" or treats it as this ‘thing’ that appeared out of nowhere to then just use any way people like and participate in the narrative that gives the impression that investing time in creating something isn't valuable or a cherished part of human expression that brings and promotes joy. 

Because rarely do people take the damn time anymore.

I want all artists/writers/creators/etc- to be acknowledged for their work in general, or, even in the least, acknowledge the work that isn't seen that goes into the final result for others to enjoy. I don't want to continually see art stolen and exploited so rapidly. This phenomenon enables tech bros who don’t have a single ounce of argumentative skill or self-proclaimed "entrepreneurs" to generate their little stolen jpg’s for their absurd 3 a.m. morning-routine videos and use them as banners on their get-rich-quick schemes, scamming the unsuspecting and spamming the internet with this bs, largely thanks to AI making this partly possible... for example. There's not a single platform left that supports artists or helps them fight for security and protection for their work. I know and I'm aware. At the very least, we can say 'no' to reposting because giving up completely makes no room for possible solutions... and then we can work from where we are at all times to find ways to protect a right (because it is) that some might perceive as trivial. 

Nevertheless, it is a right, and it definitely isn't an issue of arrogance or skill.

[earlgarden-archived]

hello! I was the one that requested the Jumin x Elegant!reader fic. And I'm here to request again :). This time, can I get a MHA characters (any) x a reader that is similar to Shinobu Kocho. I know you've already done a Childe x Shinobu!reader before, and I'm sorry if you're getting tired of this. Also, the reader has a quirk similar to insect breathing. You can ignore this if you want.

MHA boys x Shinobu!reader (again)

Outline: MHA boys with a Shinobu-like s/o

Characters: Todoroki Shoto, Bakugo Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku

Warnings: this is long 😅 And might be a bit ooc

You don't need to apologise! I actually enjoy writing Shinobu!reader, so you're definitely not bothering. However, I'm trying not to be too repetitive right now, so try and not request the same stuff!

(old post)

Todoroki Shoto

- Aren't you two just Giyuu and Shinobu?

- At first, Todoroki found you rather annoying. You seemed like you weren't taking things seriously, which contrasted to his rather competitive nature.

- But he was actually quite surprised with your abilities. You were super fast, so fast that you could even keep up with Iida.

- Although you weren't that strong, you were able to make up your lack of strength with your fast reflexes and attacks.

- He was also rather intimidated by how dangerous your quirk could be (since you can literally kill someone with your poison).

- For the first time in a while, he felt a bit scared when fighting you in the sports festival. But thankfully, he kept his calm demeanor without you noticing.

- (You can decide if you win or not) you were, admittedly, a very tough opponent. You were fast, has amazing reflexes, and he noticed you relied heavily on your acrobatic movements to dodge most of his movements. He found them quite mesmerizing.

- When you two were teamed up with eachother, he realized just how smart you were. You listened to his instructions, and executed them perfectly. But when things go off track, you would quickly think of something to do (not sure if Shinobu is actually like this). When he got injured, you would immediately come pick him up, and heal him until he felt back to normal. You were basically the best ally to have.

- He started talking to you more often, which lead to him liking your presence, you were an overall cheerful person, and you also helped him to make more friends.

- He began catching feelings for you, despite you being a threat to his goal of becoming Number 1.

- One night, you both happened to run into eachother outside the dorm area, where you both sat down at a nearby bench.

- You two had a small conversation, with you teasing him a bit. However, at some point, you both stopped talking and started staring at the moon. That's when you said, "The moon is beautiful isn't it?"

- Shoto widened his eyes, quickly realising what you mean (if you don't know, "the moon is beautiful isn't it?" is a poetic way to say " I love you" in Japanese.)

- He quickly thinks how most people respond to this indirect confession, "I can die happy" (which is a way on saying "I love you too" according to Wikihow)

- You two look at eachother, not really knowing what to say next. (Now, you decide what you two say!)

- After both confessing your feelings, you start to get more open about yourself, since you've always been super mysterious.

- On another night, he randomly found you on top of the roof of the dorm, you seemed like you were sad. So he (somehow) climbed up to the roof, and sat next to you. And then you both had a talk on being a hero, and protecting everyone. You had a rather sad look on your face, which you tried to cover up with a smile.

- He wanted to ask you what happened, but thought it was better to leave you alone.

- until, you started tearing up a bit in the middle of the conversation. Todoroki knew that he had to ask so he could comfort you.

- You started talking about your hatred towards villains/demons, especially the one that killed your sister. As well, you said you really missed your family, and that you wanted to avenge them. (Fun fact: this is inspired by the scene where Shinobu and Tanjiro are talking on the roof)

- He felt bad for you, your entire childhood was basically surrounded by death, you must be so traumatized.

- He was also rather surprised that your cheerful personality wasn't even your actual personality. But was actually based off of your dead sister.

- After your talk, you came back to class with your usual personality, and basically acted as if nothing even happened. Now, he tends to be more nicer to you.

- Helping with your training, helping you with homework, making food for you, etc.

- He also gave you the pet name: Butterfly

Bakugo Katsuki

- Similar to Todoroki, Bakugo found you rather annoying. You always seemed to tease him the most, and when he tried to scare you off, you didn't even flinch.

- Your teasing slowly started to become insults. (Of course, you weren't that mean. You were just amused by his angry reaction.)

- Literally everyone had to calm him down whenever you two would have your little disputes.

- Whenever you fought him, he would have a hard time, because of how fast you were. However, he knew he would win you in a strength contest, as long as he could just punch you really hard, you would be sent flying.

- When teamed up with him, you would always tease him with how "slow" he was (you were just too fast), he would get really angry with you.

- "Is that the fastest you can run, Bakugo?"

- "DIEEE"

- Although he denies it, Bakugo starts catching feelings for you. But he doesn't acknowledge these feelings, thinking it'll go away soon.

- It doesn't.

- (I'm too lazy to write this, but basically you do the same confession you did with Todoroki to Bakugo, you know, the "the moon is beautiful isn't it?" thing.)

- Bakugo at first, doesn't really get it. But right as he was about to continue the conversation you guys had before, he realises.

- It takes him a while to accumulate a response, since he's been trying to deny his feelings for a long time. He knows that he shares the same feelings, but he doesn't want to say it. Love should be the least of his concerns, he's still trying to reach Number 1, how can he be this bothered by love instead?

- But after thinking for a while, he suddenly hears your voice

- "hello? Earth to Bakugo?"

- He then snaps back to reality, seeing your adorable face looking at him with a small smile on your face. He sighs, and decides to tell the truth.

- Turning away, he says, "Tch, I like you too idiot."

- (You decide how this ends!)

- After confessing, Bakugo goes easier on you, but only a little. After all, he's still trying to become Number 1!

- One day, everyone was eating dinner, when Bakugo noticed you weren't there. So he went outside to look for you, he found you on top of the roof of the dorm.

- He was annoyed and screamed at you to get down and eat dinner. He noticed that you looked rather sad, but he thought to ask you later.

- You came down, (more like fly down) and you began to become a little teary eyed. Not wanting to see you sad, he asked what happened. You just simply said that you missed your family.

- Bakugo asked what happened to your family, but he already knows what likely happened.

- You started ranting about the death of your family, and expressed your anger regarding a villain/demon that killed your sister.

- You also talked about how this wasn't even your actual personality, and that you only acted like this was because you wanted to be like your sister. (Fun fact: this is inspired by the scene where Shinobu and Tanjiro are talking on the roof)

- He was quite shocked, but remained silent to let you rant in peace. He had no idea that you used to act similarly to him (but I mean, no one would've known)

- His attitude towards you doesn't really change afterwards, but now, he respects you a lot more now. Knowing what you've been through, and seeing your determination to avenge your sister. But of course, he will still become Number 1!

Midoriya Izuku

- He admired your abilities right from the beginning.

- You were so strong and agile. Well, you weren't actually strong. He learnt that you didn't really have the power to punch someone really hard (she probably isn't like that in Demon Slayer, but because in MHA they don't really use swords, I'm just gonna say you lack strength in your arms) so he noted that down as one of your weaknesses.

- He has a lot of things he needs to be careful of, knowing how smart and agile you were, he needed to be extremely cautious if he wanted to win.

- You tend to fluster him a lot, by complimenting and teasing him, you can easily make him blush.

- When you teamed up with him, he was mesmerized by your acrobatic movements, and the fact that you kinda were flying. He was so glad that you also was good at medical things. So sometimes you would heal him quickly so he could get back on his feet.

- He admires you from a far while you're practicing, thinking that he's watching to see how fast you can move, but he's actually just admiring how pretty you were.

- (basically the same thing as the other confessions)

- Midoriya doesn't get it at first, and even says "I guess it does?" He was kinda confused on why you randomly said that, but he tried to see what was to beautiful about the moon.

- Meanwhile you're laughing at his cluelessness.

- "That's not what I mean Midoriya."

- Hes still confused "Huh? Then what do you mean?"

- After watching you giggle for a while, he suddenly remembers. You just indirectly confessed to him!?

- His face is now entirely red, as he struggles to respond to your indirect confession.

- You once again, laugh at his red face, it seemed like you enjoyed yourself.

- Eventually he responds by saying, "It's true isn't it?" (It's a way on hinting that you share the same feelings).

- Now every class 1a student notices how flustered he became whenever you teased him by saying that the moon was beautiful. Not many people understood, but a few did.

- One day, he found you sitting on the roof top, your usual smile gone. He was concerned, so he (SOMEHOW) got up to the roof and asked what's wrong.

- You started confessing about everything you had experienced in the past, with tears in your eyes. (Fun fact: this is inspired by the scene where Shinobu and Tanjiro are talking on the roof)

- He was very surprised, he also felt a lot of sympathy towards you. You lost all of your family, meaning you must've been so lonely.

- He reassures you that he would be there for you, and that you can tell him anything. Of course, you thanked him, and said that you would be more open to him more.

Thank you for requesting! And thank you for reading! (Wow, that's a lot of hashtags...)

[gulliblelemon]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @bigalockwood!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

22

What's your total Ao3 word count?

266,115

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Young Royals. 

Top five fics by kudos

See You (Soon)

Where We Left Off

Please Try Again Later

Happy 18th, Crown Prince Wilhelm

The Umbrella

(I have a whole kudos spreadsheet and watching the trends is fascinating 😉)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Well, I try to. It sometimes gets a little bit overwhelming, especially at the beginning when there's an influx. But they're all so wonderful.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't written anything with an angsty ending. I don't think I have it in me 😅

(Unless you count one shots in a series, in which case it's What Am I Going To Do? But that's part of a whole universe that does have a happy ending, so I'm not counting it - although when I posted there was no promise of a continuation of the story, so it was angsty for a while).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All my fics have happy endings. But I think they all feel like it's a happy ending to that particular part of their story, and will go on to be more after.

Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't as of yet. I still can't really believe that's a thing that happens.

Do you write smut?

No. And the longer I go on, the more I wonder if I should. But then again, I wrote a whole fic that was basically about hooking up without it, so maybe I'll be fine never writing it.

Craziest crossover

I've never written a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I had The Umbrella translated into Russian and uploaded to ficbook.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

All time favourite ship?

Wilmon.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a folder full of WIP documents, most of which are just a line or a few sentences scribbled down. Some scenes, some ideas. I doubt they'll all get written, but lots get pulled for other things. And Wille's Month made me dust some of them off and either expand on them or just publish as they were.

But as for actual WIPs that I'm actively working on, I haven't got one that I don't think I'll finish. Once I start, I kind of get to the end by whatever means necessary 😅 Even if it takes me ages.

What are your writing strengths?

Erm... horrible question 😅. Dialogue? Maybe? I don't know. Someone else would have to answer that for me. I think I have a very skewed view of my own writing based on what I do and don't like doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Also horrible question, for very different reasons. Repetition probably. When I have something I just need to get down, I stop paying as much attention to how I'm saying things (what words I'm using, how I'm structuring sentences etc). But luckily @iwouldnevergetintofanfic is pretty good at catching it.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. I am not fluent, or even passable really, in any languages other than English. I'm not averse to dropping the odd word in, but in general I write the English translation (since they're speaking in Swedish anyway). I also discovered that the grammar rules are different, so ended up changing a load of stuff back to English in one fic because I wasn't sure which grammar rules to use.

First fandom you wrote in?

Young Royals.

Favourite fic you've written?

I don't know. I like certain ones for different reasons.

Where We Left Off was a massive undertaking. It's over twice as long as the next longest thing I've written (still not long by 'long fic' standards) and I was writing it for nearly a year. (And I'm not sure I'll ever write something that long again, that's not really how my brain works).

See You (Soon) was the first one where I felt like I knew what I was doing, and I think I will always be very fond of it.

I loved the process of writing Making Music, because it was a gift for a dear friend @purplehoodiesandclementines.

But I love them all in different ways 💜

No pressure tags for @unfortunate17, @enjoythesilentworld and @peakotp (and anyone else seeing this that wants to answer - I love reading these. I'll even retroactively tag you if you want!).

[sukunasweetheart]

my first post after for-fucking-ever is a SMUT POST 😭😭😭😭 i apologise

anyway its sub sukuna again so cut cut

AASKFSDGKAJDLSGJDFGFDGJALFJ BEEN A WHILE SINCE I HAD A GOOD THOUGHT ABT THIS MAN- GOIN CRAZY GOING STUPID warning; female reader, consensual use of horny drug, chains, intense edging and uh breeding

i just wanna mess him up so bad, its not sane, im sorry

this mans already horny enough, but imagine him on an aphrodisiac ?? and then i wanna edge him using a fleshlight (i alr talked about edging and its repetitive but i cant stop, I LOVE EDGING) 

the sticky noises of you bouncing the silicone fleshlight up and down his sensitive cock permeates the room, along with the clanging of the chains that restrict his hands. gritted teeth, spit running down the corner of his mouth, sukunas groans arent controllable as the toy feels embarrassingly good, getting his entire body heated up.

your pussy aches in a particular way when you observe his frustration as you remove the fleshlight, deriving him of the only pleasure he has, watching more precum leak out his swollen tip. heavy panting, his fists clench around the steel chains as if he’s about to break them. dick twitching madly, he utters a few swears under his breath.

a few moments later, you’re back to it again, but only one thrust at a time. the pauses in between makes him see red, and your giggling doesn’t help at all. sukuna’s getting all sweaty now, and he wants you to remove his clothes, but you won’t bother to do that. you’ve got other plans.

next, you use the fleshlight to tease his cockhead only, getting him bucking his hips up in desperation. “you...motherfucker...” he growls with a hoarse voice, vision getting blurry.

after a while, you get bored of it, and decide to change things up again. 

chucking the toy away, you pull his pants back up over his hardened dick, much to his confusion. the sudden restrictiveness piles onto the frustration even more, and now he understands why you didn’t want to strip him before all of this.

you begin to jerk him off over his pants, and the lack of sensation drives him crazy. but even so, he eventually stops caring about that. sukuna just wants to cum, and he doesn’t mind sullying his clothes if it means it’ll stop the prominent ache in his cock.

grinning, you stop your hand when you realise he’s getting a bit too close to orgasm, and again, you observe the way it throbs underneath, precum beginning to show on the fabric in the form of a wet spot. you let out a soft little moan as you think about the amount of dissatisfaction he is in, and the feral way he glares at you.

sukuna’s desire to free his cock speaks out in the way his hips jerk up every now and then. it never stops pulsing, even as his chest heaves in an attempt to calm himself. your pussy, overtaken with the heated arousal that you’ve attained from watching this man break down, you also begin to inch towards impatience.

you crawl over him, sitting yourself atop his bulging erection. just when he thought this couldn’t get any worse for him, you begin dry humping, grinding your clit against his cock through your slick-stained panties.

“fuck...fuck...you’re doin’ too much,” he slurs, tugging on his chains again. “i’ll do anything, just put me in already,” sukuna hisses, giving a single sharp thrust up to your throbbing cunt.

“not...yet...” you respond, rolling your hips, rubbing your clit more on his twitching dick. sukuna groans, and the drug’s effects start to deepen within him- he might just lose his mind.

moments later, you suddenly pull his pants down, letting his cock spring up, before pushing your panties aside and letting your pussy swallow him up whole. his tip pokes at your cervix, and sukuna lets out a gasp you’d never heard from him before.

the intense orgasm is almost instantaneous, as he begins to cum gallons into your sweet, wet and warm cunt that clenches him just the way he loves...

it’s like you’re happily milking him effortlessly, as you drape yourself over his shuddering body, taking over his lips while his seed continues to slosh inside of you, making your womb feel so full like never before.

after you pull away from his tongue, sukuna breathes heavily, exhausted, but somehow still having managed to kiss you back just then. a few spurts after, he’s done.

“feeling relieved?” you ask in a taunting voice. “shut up...”

you place your hands over your own lower abdomen. “i love this. doesn’t it turn you on? knowing that you’ve dumped everything inside of me.”

he doesn’t answer, but you feel him getting hard inside of you again.

@luvkun4 this is for you, but this wont be the only thing imma write for u

[rk-ocs]

“It's the RSD” You tell yourself. 

But is it? Is it really?

You wonder about that. 

Your friend would have answered. Once, it would have been frequently. More than weekly at least. 

“Busy.” You say. Or perhaps,” not enough spoons.” 

You are an exhausting person to deal with after all. Clingy to the friends you do have, because you are bad at making many friends, and you try to hang on to the ones you do have. 

Maybe that's part of the problem too. You become boring, repetitive, an obligation, a shackle, holding them down. Back. 

Maybe, that reduction in response is them trying to cut you off, to wean you, so that one day their lack of presence in your life will become everyday fare instead of missing like a prominent smell vital to the air you used to breathe. 

One summer, there were so many forest fires you could taste it in the air, even in cities far far away. Like that, but more of a natural smell. Like the smell of coming rainstorm, or pine trees, or a large body of water- vital to the environment- is missed when its gone. 

And if you ask, you will be reassured, and will reassure, and both leave feeling good. 

But those reasurances are not as warm when the RSD kicks you down, and you read back and see how long it has been, and how many of your more recent messages are not answered. The reassurance did not totally remove these fears from under your skin, like a dandelion leaving roots behind it. Alone in the dark, they stir and grow.

Back off! Back off! Stop being so clingy! Give them space. People have lives outside of you, and this is selfish! They don't need to cater to you to be your friend. 

Once we would needed intervention to stop talking. 

People change. Things change. You thought things between you wouldn't. You think a lot of things, and try to live in denial. 

When's the last time they went out of their way to start the conversation with you? When they came with something exciting to share. When they asked about you instead of you them. Where you didn't pop up when you saw they were online, and only occasionally got a reply. Maybe you are like an annoying puppy. Except its hard to be mad at a puppy. So worse. Also, you can't remember the last time. 

You are angry and desparing at feeling ignored. Part of you imagines walking away first. 

You would never do it. What if they never noticed. 

You are lonely. Maybe this is why. You hate it. Or maybe you. Probably both. 

Stop. Stop! Lack of self esteem isn't going to help matters. Why would they want to hang around to you being pathetic like that?

But you have looked and acted stupider around them. Maybe this is them looking back and noticing. Maybe they decided they didn't want to be involved in That anymore. 

Lifelong friendship like in the media is not a thing. Or maybe it isn't for you. People change, people grow, people grow out of- 

And have you grown, really? Maybe that's why they leave you behind, they grow and grow and grow out of you, striding forward to bigger heights while you stay, and perhaps even lose ground as they are gaining. 

Stop. This is your RSD. 

And do you really do anything together anymore? Sure you chat, but most of its surface. Is any of it the deep stuff, personal on more than a surface level? The stuff that connected you? 

“They are busy. People have lives.”

They do. And they used to make time in theirs for things with you. Keywords; used to. Past tense. They Loved you. Past tense. “I love you" is not an easy phrase for you to say to not family, but you had tried to used it with them. Maybe not enough. 

What can you do? What can you offer? It takes two to maintain a relationship. You look at all the things you sent them that were never responded to, and you wonder “what if they don't like me anymore?”

“That's the RSD talking.” 

Yes. But the RSD is talking to me, and you are not. 

That's the problem.

[revols-headcanons]

dead end: paranormal park headcanons

logs, although he wants to be an actor, hates musicals because he finds the songs repetitive and tedious. he wants to be a film major with a minor in english literature. in contrast, josh (who has a neutral view on musicals) wants to be a film major with a minor in some business course.

norma’s next hyperfixation after pauline is not only supernatural demon things, but books and shows that also analyze potential unearthly things. norma scoffs when she watches those fake ghost shows.

badyah learns that she’s aro ace and she’s like “wow, i didn’t know I could think men are objectively attractive without being romantically or sexually attracted to them.”

courtney is non binary and uses any pronouns. barney asks why they chose a feminine name (bc there’s a decent amount of genderqueer people who use either gender neutral or non-human names (i.e: alex or brick)) and courtney responds with “I like the vibe of the name. it gives off troll energy.”

logs can play the guitar but only kind of? he tries to brag (show off) to barney and then fumbles around with it, missing many strings, but getting a decent play through of a song.

barney’s family -> his grandma is a bigot but (before she was told that barney was trans), she would buy barney anything and help him with whatever. after she learned that barney’s not only trans, but also gay, she immediately stopped funding his hobbies. his parents didn’t even acknowledge it until after canon. barney was such a good older sibling for patrick (until there was a brief gender crisis barney had which pushed everyone out), which is why patrick cares for him so much. when barney told his parents about being trans, they were like “ooh idk kiddo, that’s going to be uncomfortable to explain don’t you think?” while patrick was like “aww sweet a brother now!” and immediately got it.

norma’s family -> her father is dead, her mother is the most supportive mother alive, and her older sister (in graphic novel she has a sister) has a general distaste for her. her sister makes passive aggressive comments about norma’s (autistic) behavior— not noticeable enough to be considered bigotry but not unnoticeable. her mother, ever the one to avoid conflict, says that her sisters just angry at xyz factors. norma never really sees her sister due to working at phoenix parks, school, and her sister being in college.

log’s family -> his mother is unaware that she’s homophobic. like she’ll say something like “who’s the man in the relationship” without realizing the response will be “both of us.” that’s the main reason he hasn’t come out to her yet. his sister is 100% an ally who squealed when she learned. she was like “oh my god that makes so much sense. that’s why you seemed bored whenever I tried to set you up on a date with a girl!” his parents are divorced so he hasn’t seen his father in years.

badyah’s family -> her family in general just doesn’t really care for lgbt+ things because it’s never really affected them until now. badyah has to make a whole slideshow presentation for her family describing what aro ace is and what that means for her future. her family is like “okay…? just say ur going to be single forever w no kids?” to her, which isn’t entirely accurate for some aroace people, but badyah’s like “… close enough!”

zagan and norma in fact don’t end up dating because norma doesn’t jump from crush to crush easily, and she doesn’t get romantic feelings (at most zagan is a rejection rebound). they do become friends though who shit talk the angels.

out of barney, norma, logs, badyah, courtney, and josh, josh is the token straight cis white man of the group, and he’s constantly given (joking) shit for it. i would add pugsley to being a token… straight? but that’s a literal dog.

[iwadori]

Haikyu boys when they make you insecure PT 1 (Kenma,Kuroo)

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.

Word Count:3k 

genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Kenma:

You and Kenma have been in a long distance relationship for a while.

Both of you stream, Kenma doing it seriously for his job and you just playing it for fun,

Sometimes you stream together of course but because of your difference in audiences and games you don’t do it all the time

“Bye guys! Hope you enjoyed todays stream” You wave off to the camera and shut off your PC taking a few sips of water.

Kenma: Hey.. nice stream today Y/N are you going to watch mine?

Y/N: Of course I will 

Kenma: Ok talk to you later

Y/N: okayy <3

Kenma is what inspired you to stream, he also taught you all the ins and outs of streaming making sure you were set and ready. Your gaming style was very relaxed and friendly as you obviously weren’t streaming as a career just for fun and to make friends with your online viewers. The games you played were usually: minecraft, COD, Sims 4, Roblox, Animal crossing and *Insert your favourite game here* the way I literally named all the games I play 

You wait for Kenmas stream to start, kind of excited as you’ve always loved seeing your boyfriend in his ‘element’ when it comes to playing to games. As your boyfriends stream starts you see he’s already chosen what game he is playing today which is to your surprise Call of duty, since that was the game you were playing earlier.

As he gets into the stream you are entertained, as always since Kenma was being his usual self laughing at his own deadpan jokes and interacting with his viewers. He is currently waiting for his capture the flag game to start so as he waits he decides to read some comments in the chat.

You’re used to the usual ‘Kenma where is Y/N I miss your usual streams together’ or ‘kenma please RAIL me’ which always makes you laugh. You were also used to the common hate comments Kenma and You both got on your streams but you were definitely not ready for this..

@ Ihatewomanandiamadick : Hey Kenma did you see your girls stream today she is so dog shit at COD lmaoooo jhdfkjdrhdrr

“Well hello ihatewomenandiamadick” started Kenma “but yes I did see Y/N stream and obviously she is not the best at games and I would definitely NOT ask her to team with me for any serious gaming competitions ... but she’s fun to watch I guess” as he finished speaking about you his game loaded up so he focused his attention on that the words he just spoke going to the back of his mind as they end up at the forefront of yours.

You obviously knew you were no match for Kenma’s gaming expertise but you didn’t expect him to publicly agree with a hate comment let alone add more of his imput on you. Did he really think that about you? ‘She’s fun to watch I guess’ did he not even enjoy your streams that much?

You wanted to distract yourself, and you definitely couldn’t do that watching him so you close off of his stream and get in your bed deciding to watch your favourite show. 

Waking up at 6pm after your sad nap, you see that Kenma has left some messages to you,

Kenma: hey did you watch my stream?

Kenma: do you want to facetime later and play some minecraft..?

Kenma: y/n r u ok??

Y/N: oh hey cnt play minecraft w you rn not really in the mood..

Kenma: oh ok..

Time passed since then a month to be exact and you basically dropped off of the face of the earth, you weren’t in the mood to do anything let alone game and stream, which was a constant reminder of your boyfriend (something you didn’t want at the time.) 

You felt embarrassed over all the things he said about you and all the things you now think he thinks about you and the way you play. Maybe he thinks even worse things about you, beyond just how you game? What if he doesn’t even genuinely like you...or he has someone else...it does make sense, you do both live miles and miles away from eachother AND he’s a big streamer you see the amount of girls in his comments.

You shake your head to erase your protruding thoughts coming in your mind, but it doesn’t really help. You and Kenma haven’t spoken much over this month he tried to constantly reach out to you at first but you assume he got bored over your constant, repetitive dry texts. So you were almost content with you and Kenma not even being in a relationship anymore.

However on Kenma’s side, he was beyond worried about you. Since you haven’t been streaming or barely responded to his texts he thought something happened to you, but he didn’t want to be seen as ‘overstepping boundaries’ if there was nothing wrong at all with you and you simply were just ‘not in the mood.’ 

So here he is, in Kuroo’s apartment trying to get him to help him out on finding out what is wrong with you.

“So kenma can you remember what happened the day when Y/N went ‘ghost’“ asked Kuroo in a mock detective voice

“Y/N didn’t go ‘ghost’ Kuro, and take this seriously” said Kenma “I’m worried bout her”

“Okay fine, but for real what’s the last thing you remember before she started acting all weird.” 

“Umm I think it was around a month ago I did my saturday stream and I think she was on it but she didn’t leave her usual nice comments throughout”

“Ohh that was the stream when you sai-” Kuroo said before pausing his words as the memory of what Kenma said about you on his stream came in his mind, as even Kuroo thought it was a tad bit harsh for Kenma to say all those things “I think I know why Y/N has been so distant kiddo”

“What why?” Asked Kenma

Kuroo pulls out his phone and brings up the clip off what Kenma said and Kenma’s face cringes ‘did he really say all those things about you’ he thinks. 

“Shit.. I didn’t know I said all of that” he said quietly “how do I make it up to her?”

“There’s only one thing you can really do Kenma” said kuroo

You are woken up out of your sleep by a knock on the door. Getting out your bed like a zombie, you trudge to your front door only surprised by what you see. There in his 5′6 glory stood your ‘boyfriend’ Kenma with a controller and a kitten teddy in his hand. You were very tempted to shut the door in his face and get back to your dreamless sleep but you waited on him to speak.

“Hi Y/N” he said quietly “wanna play some minecraft...?”

“Why so you can ridicule me on how shit I am?” You ask bitterly ready to shut the door on him

“No! No not all” he said stopping you from shutting the door entering your place “Y/N i’m really sorry on what I said, I wasn’t thinking AT ALL... I love watching your streams and I think you’re great at playing games...I was just being a dick,”

You take a deep breath before tears pool in your eyes “what you said really hurt me kenma..” you say “ I know people say shitty things on the internet all the time... it’s the internet. But I wasn’t expecting you to agree with the hater and say even more shitty things on top of that.. I don’t think I want to even stream anymore”

Upon hearing that, Kenma’s mouth parts open with shock ‘you dont want to stream anymore’ were his comments that bad? Now he feel even worse as he should and is now more determined to make things right. 

He impulsively drags your arm into your game room, catching your surprise ‘what is he up too?’ you think. He stops for a second seeing your usual pristine gaming set up, collected up with dust. 

“What are you do-” you start 

“Just wait!” He says, as he rushes away turning on all your stuff and logging onto his twitch account as he sees the views go up he starts to speak

 “Hi guys, its me kodzuken and today I’m here on stream with my beautiful girlfriend and today I want to say..” he turns to you “Y/N im so sorry for the horrible things I said to you that day... I was just being a dick and I’m sorry I really am.”

You look at the chat and you see some confusion and some people recalling his words from last month. “It’s fine Kenma, I forgive you” you say giving him a hug”

“Okay Y/N, so what do you say... wanna beat my ass at bed wars?” He says with a smirk 

“When have I ever loss?” you return his smirk

Of course you did beat his ass as bed wars for rounds on rounds never losing proving yourself to actually be a good gamer girl. You enjoyed your time with Kenma, forgetting what he said before about you and moving on. 

Eventually, you guys moved in together and streamed together all the time and yes you still do play for fun but you’ve gotten way better at COD (some may say better then Kenma) but who is better didn’t matter to any of you, as long as you got to play together that’s all you both cared about.

Kuroo:

Kuroo and you have been together since you were in your first year of high school 

You met as friends first when you got him to tutor you in chemistry ( a subject you still aren’t that good at.)

Now you have your upcoming entrance exams for university in a month so your school has you doing mock exams in preparation for them.

20%

You look down at your chemistry paper that your teacher just handed you. 20%. You’re surprised, very surprised since out of all your subjects (that you go 90+% on) you studied on the chemistry test the hardest ensuring Testurou, that you didn’t need his help at all. But I guess it turns out, you did.

This failing mock grade put a blunder on your day, you didn’t interact with anyone and didn’t want to see your boyfriend so you skipped your usual routine of meeting him on the rooftop and went to the library instead ‘might aswell start early on your studying’ you thought.

As you were going over your chemistry topics, you hear an ‘ahem’ next to you and you turn your head only to find your boyfriend and his friends next to you. Kuroo with his usual goofy smile on his face. 

“Hey kitten where were you at lunch?” he asked 

“Needed to go to the library, Chemistry is kicking my ass” you mumbled 

“Oya” he said as he noticed your chemistry test laying under your textbook “20%, well damn Y/N I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t know you were that stupid” he laughed doing his stupid usual hyena-like laugh.

Ouch well that hurt. You slightly flinched at his words, “Really your name, you didn’t know the molecular formula for ethanol, that’s first year work” he said continuing to laugh “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the first things I tutored you on when we first met” 

His overbearing laughter was not good for you, you were already having a bad day and yes you do know your not that good at chemistry but you didn’t need your chemistry-enthusiast boyfriend to make fun of you for failing. Kenma and Yaku stood there awkwardly obviously aware of how bad Kuroo is making you feel but they didn’t really know how to stop his friend in the moment.Whilst he’s still dying of laughter you decide to pack up your stuff and leave the library.

You managed to get your Chemistry tutor to let you retake your mock paper in a week so that means, extra hard studying with no distractions you definitely can’t fail again. Since studying on your own was definitely not a good option, and you couldn’t go to Kuroo (especially after he ridiculed you) you decided to ask the second smartest person you know to tutor you.

Y/N: Hey Yaku! Can I ask you a favour?

Yaku: Hi Y/N what do you need??

Y/N: I have my chemistry retake next week, and as you know from your loud-loud friend I failed my recent test so can you tutor me?? 

Y/N: Pleaseeee

Yaku: Ok Y/N why can’t you ask Kuroo you know that he’d be more than happy to help

Y/N: Yakuu pleasee just help me out 

So there you was, nearly a week done with your study sessions with Yaku and you’re feeling way more confident than before. 

“Y/N what is the functional group of a Carboxylic Acid” Yaku asked

“umm... COO?” 

“Great! that’s correct Y/N” he praises i dont actually know if it’s correct or not

You then hear a knock at Yaku’s front door and hear his mum let the person in, Kuroo then enters Yaku’s bedroom with shock plastered on his face surprised to see you here.

“Y/N...hey?” he says confused “what are you doing here?”

“Oh Mori-chan is just helping me with chemistry for my retake tommorow” you say nochalantly internally smiling at the twinge in Kuroo’s face at the purposeful use of Yaku’s first name.

“So why didn’t you ask me to help you know I’m a chemistry whiz” he asks

“Maybe I’m too stupid to be taught under your tutelage” you mumble “since I seem to forget whatever you teach me, even when it’s 3 years ago... but ok”

“Y/N I-” he starts 

“Oh save it Kuroo, I have studying to do” you say cutting him off

“But I-” he tries

“So Mori-chan COOH is the function group of ethyl ethonate right?” you ask ignoring your boyfriend who is now at a lost for words

“ummm yeah it is” says yaku who is clearly feeling heavily awkward at the tension in his bedroom.

Kuroo leaves and you and yaku finish off the studying for the night, you did feel a little bad for being a bit mean to Kuroo but it’s karma for him being a dick to you. 

You wake up the next day ready for your exam which was first thing in the morning, before you hand in your phone you see a message from Kuroo,

Kuroo: I know you’re still mad at me, but I think you’re going to do so well on this test. You’re not stupid at all, you’re really smart and I love you < 3 

Kuroo: Good luck Y/N

You don’t respond to the message but smile at the sincerity of it and thankful for the boost of confidence it gave you before you start your exam.

Finishing the exam with a smile, you were confident you did well as everything you and Yaku went over was on the paper and you’re almost certain you atleast got more than 75%. You have to wait an hour before your teacher can give you your results, so in the meantime you might aswell reconcile with Kuroo.

When you exit the classroom, standing there was Kuroo who seemed to have been waiting for you for the whole duration of the exam.

“So how was it?” Kuroo asked, apprenhensive as he assumed you would just ignore him like you did at Yaku’s house.

“It was fine, I think it went alright..” you say

“Kuroo”

“Y/N”

You say simultaneously, he pauses for a second to let you speak “I’m sorry I was being so stand offish when we were at Yaku’s I just wanted you to see I could do it on my own, and when you called me stupid I really took that to heart since you and I both know that Chemistry wasn’t ever my best subject” 

“I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, and since it was only a practice test I didn’t think you’d take it to heart but I am sorry I know you aren’t stupid.”

Before you got to say anything else, your Chemistry teacher exited the room with your chemistry paper in hand. Kuroo grabbed your hand anticipating your nerves and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Miss L/N” said your teacher “Well done on your chemistry test” he turned your test around to sure a perfect 100%. Both you and Kuroo gasped, you were elated to say the least you wanted to jump up and down in excitement but a PERFECT 100%.

“I’d also like to add that you have now got the top chemistry score in the school beating the previous title holder Kuroo Testurou” said your teacher, this made Kuroo open his mouth even wider in surprise nearly making you giggle at his response. 

Your teacher took his leave, leaving you and Kuroo in the hallway “ I guess i’m the chemistry whizz now “ you say wiggling your eyebrows just as Kuroo did to you before at Yaku’s this made him chuckle as he came to put his arm around you.

“Y/N don’t get ahead of yourself now, you may have won this battle but I will win the war” he said smiling

In the final exam, you continue your winning streak also getting a near 100% and still beating Kuroo which didn’t matter to either of you, now you’re just like him cracking chemistry puns and jokes all the time which none of your friends appreciated but atleast Kuroo found them SODIUM funny.

AN: Please kill me for the last line of Kuroos, I didn’t really like Kuroo’s since it was a bit self indulgent with my hate for chemistry but what do you guys think?

[lantsovsupremacist]

i saw that you asked for requests and i also saw that you wrote some nikolai stories based on taylor's songs (i loved). so you could write something based on wilders dreams or you are in love or call it what you want, you choose pls

MY BRAND yes of course i can.

nikolai lantsov: you are in love

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars...

“marry me.”

you shook your head. while any other girl would likely collapse onto the cobblestones had they the pleasure of hearing those words from the king, you would not. you could not. the possibility of accepting his proposal was a lie you no longer could afford.

“i have a certain inclination to your use of words, darling,” nikolai caught up to your strides easily, “without them, you answers are so very unclear.”

you stopped your pace, shutting your eyes. obviously, nikolai only meant to try and persuade you of his reasoning. he was unaware of how the repetition further shattered the pieces of your heart.

“stop asking,” you requested unevenly, “i cannot marry you because i cannot be a queen.”

“cannot or will not?” nikolai dropped his calm disposition. his words now swam through endless seas of exasperation.

eyes widening at his assumption, you glared, “your people will not accept a grisha on the throne. they will not make an exception for love because they cannot understand how such a thing between you and i could exist.”

albeit offended, nikokai softened, “and i wish i could do more to protect you but even i am unable to offer you reprieve from your own doubts.”

however bold or brash his words seemed, you took them because there was no other conceivable explanation. you refused to argue with him further, not when your remaining moments were already beginning to slip away.

“you have too much hope in the world.”

nikolai scoffed, knocking his shoulder into yours. you saw through his sly smirk and glowing grin, and he knew it. the fox could hide away from just about anybody but never you—not that he ever wanted to.

so, he would pretend for a minute or two, rile you up with his plethora of personalities. then, he would sober up, resounded to your ability to penetrate his defenses. your keen awareness of every notch in his armor, every foothold to climb his fortress, both aggravated and comforted him simultaneously.

“somebody has to,” he chided you, content to snake an arm around your waist and pull you flush against his side, “i don’t want to forget.”

“forget what?” you questioned, turning to face him more fully as a soft pout formed on your features.

“that i have this,” he motioned to your entwined limbs, “you,” he kissed your forehead, “to come back to. i only ever hoped my heart would find its home.”

you stilled. surely, an artist from above could have captured the moment perfectly because of it. they would have to gently shade your individual silhouettes into one, execute the softness of his gaze, and reproduce the muted lighting with watercolor.

you liked to organize your life into two categories; there was the before nikolai lantsov and the after him. before saltwater became the first thing to invade your senses in the mornings, you would have set fire to the bridge of any desperate man’s creation. after you learned to never assume anything impossible, you willingly gave up a piece of your heart to the most lovesick of them all. the one you simply could not have.

gingerly grabbing ahold of his fingers, you aimed to kiss the tip of each one. as always, he pulled away before allowing you to complete your objective. with a frown, you ran your thumb over his cheek.

“i only got to six. none of that,” you minded him with a calm look, “sobachka,” you began to warn him. 

“it’s more than five,” he commented with a reference to the day before. quickly, he kissed you to remove any possibility of a retort. you could not escape his lips even if you intended to try, which you did not.

the need for air ultimately pulled you away from nikolai. you frowned discontentedly his way, still frustrated by his actions. you understood his insecurities and accepted the validity of his feelings, but it did not ease the pain of watching him crumble before your eyes.

“my love,” you urged, “i have never understood many things and ended up running,” you held him off with a look, “but i want to stay and learn every part of you.”

bashful, he tucked his head into your neck.

“you have to spare some hope for yourself,” you said softly, leaning your head onto his.

he groaned, indicative of him sourly acknowledging your truth. you turned to kiss his temple, giving your lips the respite to linger just beneath his curls. you sucked in a breath when he responded with one of his own, planted upon the column of your throat. tender yet unexpected.

“but i want you to have it,” he responded, careful to inject the appropriate dose of his personality to make you smile without doubt of his sincerity being a means of withdrawal from the subject.

rolling your lips into your mouth, you melted under his gaze and into his arms, “okay.”

he smiled as radiantly as the sun, with a blush to match the artistry of it setting. you thought you could stay in that moment with him, that not even he could carry you to the next quite yet. you should have known better to predict his unpredictable behavior.

“so,” he drew out, “marry me, then.”

“nik-,” you breathed, fighting a losing battle with a smile of your own. his persistence did not force you to agree, rather charmed you to.

“no!” he cut off deliberately, “no,” the delivery of his words now intentionally softer.

“nikolai,” you enunciated, “if i’m a queen,” you caught the exact second light filtered back into his eyes, “i will never have you again in the same way—not how i do now, at least.”

“i don’t understand,” he frowned between his mumble of the phrase.

“we will be closer than ever before,” you voiced, “but i fear that could push us further apart than we have ever been,” you expressed with a sunken tone.

not letting you pull away either emotionally or physically, he took you into his arms. already feeling more grounded, you breathed in his scent of sea and pine. he was all around you, and it was enough.

“i could never not love you,” he countered.

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you refuted, “but what if you don’t like me anymore? after we are stressed and overwhelmed and stubbornly disagreeing?”

nikolai giggled, kissing every inch of your face, “i like every single piece of you,” his thumbs slipped down your cheeks and onto your throat, pushing your head back for further access, “i like you more than any travel i have been on, any adventure i have sought, and more than any squabble we might face.”

looking up at him under a thick set of eyelashes, you quirked a crooked smile, “really?”

“oh, yes,” he divulged, “i like you more than anyone else—even myself,” he began to taunt you, “and i happen to like myself quite a bit.”

“fine,” you relented with a light sigh, “let me show you just how much i like you and i’ll be your queen.”

a smirk stretched across his face but before he could dip his head to yours, you grabbed his hands away from your neck.

“i like you,” you began with a breath, leaning forward to kiss each of his fingertips, “one, two, three,” you continued as he watched you delicately, “eight, nine, ten.”

blinking rapidly, his gaze softened, “don’t be my queen,” nikolai mouthed, a single breath away from your lips, “continue to be my best friend, the woman i look for in every room, the reason time moves way too fast.”

“thank you for sharing your hope with me,” you spoke and drew your lips in a straight line, “thank you for letting me be in love with you.”

“i never let you do anything,” he began to sway, “could only hope you would keep coming back.”

“i’m in love with you,” you insisted, “and i happen to like that very much.”

[hatterstan-shameblog]

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I'll Stop Projecting When I'm Dead: AiB as Comfort Characters

Scenario: You (yes, you!) have just survived a terrible game. Shaken by the horrors you've witnessed, you seek out comfort from the character of your choice.

This is meant for general audiences—there are some mentions of violence, alcohol, implied drugging, etc. but nothing explicit. This is wholesome. (Or, you know, as wholesome as some of these people get...)

Characters Included: Arisu, Chota, Karube, Shibuki, Tatta, An, Kuzuryuu, Chisiya, Aguni, Hatter, Mira, Niragi, Kuina, Last Boss, and Momoka & Asahi

Enjoy 💖

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Arisu:

Although Arisu is very in-tune with your emotions, he doesn't know how to handle you running into his room with tears streaming down your face. So he freezes, unsure of how to respond, which only makes you start crying harder.

In a panic, Arisu does the only thing he can think of—he grabs the comforter off of his bed and throws it over you, adjusting the fluffy blanket so that it rests over your head and body like a hooded cloak. It's one of the things he used to do to comfort himself when he got scared, so he hopes it'll work for you too. Then, he sits next to you on the bed and drapes his arms around you, holding you close as he lets you cry it out.

Arisu is not one for words during these kinds of situations—touch is more his forté—but every so often, he'll say something like, "It's all gonna be okay" or "It's over, and you're safe." Whether you tell him what happened or you don't, he'll sit with you for as long as you need to feel better.

Chota:

Chota gets extremely uncomfortable when other people are crying—especially when that person is you.

Unlike Arisu's freeze response, Chota jumps immediately into overdrive. He starts fussing over you, asking what's wrong and getting very worried over your increasing distress. When he notices the blood on your hands and arms, he panics further. It's nice to know that he cares so much, but it's a little frustrating to have him reacting so strongly when you're the one suffering.

So, you tell him you need him to help somehow, and it's like something clicks into place. He immediately gets you water and watches intently as you sip it. He takes you to the sink and helps you scrub your hands until all the blood is gone. He draws you a bath and let's you soak, anxiously waiting outside the door in case you need anything else—while also checking in what feel like every two minutes, just to be sure you're okay.

Karube:

Out of The Boys™️, Karube is the most level-headed. So when you come up to him shaking and sobbing, he stops you from running into his arms and asks you (gently but firmly) if you're hurt. Even when you shake your head and whimper a pitiful No, he still gives you a quick once-over to check for any obvious injuries.

Only after that does he let you crash into him, holding your head to his chest as you let your emotions overwhelm you. He is a master of small-talk and sweet nothings, mumbling calm reassurances into your hair as he lazily runs a hand up and down your back in a repetitive, soothing motion.

He doesn't care that you're getting blood and dirt (and tears and snot) all over his favorite shirt—all that matters is you feeling safe and knowing he'll always protect you.

Shibuki:

When you come to Shibuki, covered in blood and trembling from the horrors of your latest game, she's all business. Tough love is her speciality after all, so the first thing she does is make you wash the blood off—to an outsider, it may seem like she's being cruel or uncaring, but you know she's just being practical.

When you can't stop crying, she grabs your face in both of her hands and makes you look directly at her. Calmly amd evenly, she says to you: You are safe. You did what you had to do. She gives you an expectant glare that only softens when you repeat what she said. "I am safe. I did what I had to do." She says it again and you answer, over and over until your breathing evens and you start to believe it.

She lets you stay with her that night, wordlessly facing each other on the bed, until you both fall into a deep, well-deserved sleep.

Tatta:

Sweetheart Tatta sees you in distress and is totally caught off-guard—what terrible thing could have happened to you to make you this upset? As you babble snippets of the horrors you had just witnessed between hiccupping sobs, he listens and pretends to understand.

He realizes that he needs to do something to make you feel better, and fast, so he sits you somewhere comfortable and tells you to wait. He runs out the door, leaving you alone in your misery.

Within ten minutes, he's back—breathing heavily, as if he had just run a mile—and hands you something round and cold. You blink away your tears and see that it's a bowl of ice cream (or frozen, dairy-free dessert), a generous serving of your favorite flavor, with all of your favorite toppings piled high on top. He sheepishly apologizes for taking so long, but he knows people always feel better when they have something good to eat.

You can't help but start laughing at the sweet gesture, and although it doesn't solve everything, it makes you feel a little better nonetheless.

An:

An is cold and calculating on the outside. On the inside, she's rather warm and caring. So when you come to her after nearly dying in a game, she whisks you away from prying eyes and takes you back to the privacy of her room.

Because of her extensive knowledge of the human body, An knows that one of the best ways to relax is to have a massage. Even if the game hadn't been particularly traumatic, you'd still probably be sore from participating, so she offers to help work out some of the tension. She starts with your hands, manipulating your fingers and stroking your palms until you begin to slowly calm down. An is an excellent listener, so when you feel okay enough to start talking about what happened, she pays close attention and doesn't interrupt as you recount your horrific experience.

By the time she moves on to your shoulders, you're feeling both the physical and emotional tension leave your body.

Kuzuryuu:

Kuzuryuu is not the touchy-feely sort, so don't expect a lot of hugs and cuddling from this man.

What you can expect, however, is for him to talk you down. He will reassure you with statistics—that every person who plays a game has a seventy percent* chance of dying, and that there is only a thirteen percent* chance of everyone surviving a game. That is because the games are designed to kill, and whether you had participated or not, there still would have been deaths.

He also reminds you that you are not to blame; living in the Borderlands means making impossible choices every day, and even making the 'wrong' choice doesn't mean you're a bad person.

In a moment of compassion, he puts your hand over yours and reminds you that feelings—even the negative ones—are proof that you are still alive and still human. And here, that means everything.

Chisiya:

Chisiya doesn't often display emotion, so when he sees you a crying mess after finish your latest game, he seems unbothered.

He takes you back to his room and guides you into the bathroom. He has you hop up onto the counter (or, depending, sit on the low stool at the vanity) and fills the sink with warm water. When he gets his small medical kit from the drawer, you know what's about to come next.

Carefully and clinically, Chisiya washes the blood and dirt from your skin with a soft cloth. Once finished, he begins his examination. From head to toe, he looks you over, explaining what he's doing in great detail as he checks for any signs of internal or external damage. He would have been an exceptional doctor—his easygoing manner and soothing voice make you feel at ease as he cleans your wounds with antiseptic and dresses them with sterile bandages. He even prescribes a few medications, along with plenty of rest and fluids to get you feeling better.

It's not the most typical form of comfort, but having someone go to such lengths to make sure you're uninjured makes you feel cared for.

Aguni:

Aguni's knee-jerk response to someone having a mental breakdown in his room is disdain—this is the Borderlands, where you either, as Johnny Cash so eloquently put it, "get tough or die."

But when it's you who's inconsolable...that's different.

Thinking is the root of your problem, all those troublesome thoughts and feelings swirling around in your overwhelmed mind, so he makes it so you don't have to think. In a tone that brokers no arguments, he begins giving orders. Walk to the bathroom. Turn on the light. Go to the sink. Turn on the water. Get soap on your hands. Scrub the blood off. Don't stop until it's all gone.

He walks you through an entire night routine like that—showering, putting on fresh clothes, brushing your teeth—and by the time you're tucking yourself into the extra bed (because he's one of those lucky bastards who has two beds in his room), you find yourself feeling almost numb.

He starts reading aloud from the book he had been keeping on his nightstand—it's just interesting enough to keep the memories of your horrible experience at bay as you slip into sleep.

Hatter:

Hatter is perhaps the most outwardly sympathetic of bunch, saccharine and almost condescending in the way he comforts you as you cry into your hands.

An excellent host, he makes sure your glass is never empty. The alcohol numbs, and before long, you find yourself slumping against him in a twilight-tipsy haze as the room spins. He drapes an arm across your shoulders and talks about all the wonderful things he has in store for the future of the Beach.

You end up in his bed (perhaps even through innocent, platonic means) and you stay the night, taking comfort in the fact that you don't have to be alone.

Mira:

This is hardly the first time Mira has dealt with an emotional breakdown, so she barely bats an eye at your acute distress.

She whisks you away to her room where she guides you into an armchair and pours you a cup of soothing tea. Sitting opposite you, she wears her most serene smile as she guides you through some relaxation exercises. Even though it doesn't seem like they'd help, you start to feel calmer, and that's when she begins to ask you questions about your experience.

You tell her everything, albeit slowly. Certain parts have you choking on your own throat, but she waits patiently until you're able to get the words out. When you start to get a little woozy, you wonder why she hadn't had any tea herself—but that thought is quickly vanished when she starts steering you to bed, tucking the covers beneath your chin tightly as you fall helplessly into a dreamless sleep.

Niragi:

Niragi positively beams when he sees you walking into the room, your hands and clothes covered in fresh blood. He rolls his eyes when he sees your tears, but laughs loudly and drags you away from the crowd.

The roof is his favorite place, so it's no wonder he'd bring you here—but when he puts his gun in your trembling hands, you feel confused.

He helps you aim at a skyscraper across the way, tall windows glistening black and dark in the night. Under his guidance, you pull the trigger and watch one of the windows shatter as he helps you handle the kickback. It feels good, and you shoot until there's no bullets left—windows breaking, Niragi cheering you on as you scream your hurt into the sky.

When it's over, you feel empty. You feel exhausted. Niragi takes the gun back and puts his arm around you, and you slump against him as you watch the stars together.

Kuina:

When it comes to caring for people, Kuina is the best. She's compassionate, clever, and highly empathetic—so when she finds you crying and covered in blood, she's ready to spring into action.

Unlike the others, Kuina asks you what you need before she attempts to do anything. Her hand is resting on your shoulder, her voice steady—her eyes meet your own, tears doing nothing to deter her from giving you what you need.

If you can't tell her what you need, no problem; Kuina knows how to handle that, too. She asks increasingly specific questions: 'do you want to go somewhere quiet?' and 'do you need to see a doctor?' top the list, all the way down to 'can I get you some water?'

By the time you've stopped crying, you're lying in bed with Kuina next to you. She's talking about her old life, the clothes they would sell in the shop where she worked and all the people that would come in and ask for her assistance, and it's one of the only times you feel normal in the Borderlands.

Last Boss:

Emotions don't come easily to Last Boss, so when he sees you in distress, he pauses. It's not that he's uncomfortable, it's more that he has a hard time relating. But he knows that he cares for you, and that he wants to do something to help.

So he takes you back to his room. He keeps the lights off, letting only the glow of the moon from the window illuminate the space. When he nods towards the bed, you walk over, and when you lay down, he nods his assent. He sits in the armchair across from the bed, katana unsheathed and his eyes watching you closely.

"Death is a part of life," he tells you simply, and for some reason, it's oddly comforting. You are able to drift off to much-needed sleep knowing that you have someone to watch over you and keep you safe.

Momoka and Asahi:

Don't be fooled—just because they're younger than most of the other Beach residents doesn't mean they don't know how to react in a crisis. When they see you having a panic attack after your latest game, they work together to calm you down.

The nightclub bathroom is disgusting, but it has a mirror and plenty of room for the three of you. Asahi scrubs the blood from beneath your fingernails while Momoka helps you regulate your breathing and gives you tissues to wipe the tears away.

Then they drag you onto the dance floor, despite your protests, and all but force you to dance. The music is so loud, it makes it impossible for you to think about anything else, so you let everything go and move your body with the rhythm. It's cathartic, dancing with your friends, and it helps you feel at least a little bit more okay despite everything you've witnessed in the Borderlands.

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...And that's what we've got! Some of them are better equipped to deal with emotional distress than others, to put it lightly! I tried to really think what the character would do, so hopefully I got it right. Or, right enough.

Thanks for reading! 💕

[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

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“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier. 

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears. 

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock. 

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway. 

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser. 

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you. 

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information. 

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him. 

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you. 

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground. 

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor. 

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too. 

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice. 

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed. 

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours. 

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit. 

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat. 

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules. 

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard. 

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock. 

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you. 

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine. 

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag. 

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all. 

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss. 

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched. 

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality. 

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you. 

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms. 

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room. 

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima. 

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him. 

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming. 

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want. 

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move. 

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance. 

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again. 

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin. 

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap. 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain. 

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good. 

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat. 

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you. 

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands. 

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center. 

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

[moririki]

⤷ A BLOODSTAINED CONFESSION

RENGOKU KYOJURO X READER -> 3.6K
you patch up your fellow hashira after the hardest fight of your lives

REQUEST -> ✰
CONTAINS -> MUGEN TRAIN SPOILERS like before the cut and everything, mentions of blood + gore, so kinda angsty but definitely a fluffy ass ending, reader is a hashira but it's left ambiguous as to what element you are👍, i watched the movie two months ago so my recollection of dialogue and plot may be *slightly* off, near-death experience, idk how to write combat so i just... didn’t, reader lowkey thirsts over rengoku's back muscles and shit because why tf not, idk how injuries work aaaa
MORI'S THOUGHTS -> rengoku my beloved,,, he deserves the world,, i think i should have made this less angsty im SORRY (i rlly heard "extra fluffy" and it just went 👩🏻➡️ straight through my head huh) also i bet you guys missed me and my late-ass posting <3 but here i am!! for now!! yeahhhh!! i feel like the writing in this got a little repetitive so i apologise for that

APPARENTLY, THE DESTRUCTION OF AN ENTIRE TRAIN wasn't enough to end this mission. even with one lower six demon defeated, another much stronger one had replaced it. the arrival of akaza was a significant turning point in the battle, and one that you cursed yourself for missing.

you should have known that this mission would he more dangerous than expected when both you and rengoku had been deployed to the train, alongside three rookies. you should have known better than to let rengoku convince you to stay back and help evacuate rather than let him handle it alone.

he had been so full of confidence- squeezing your hand firmly before rushing off, leaving you feeling slightly lightheaded from the brief contact of his warm palm. you should have wished him luck, told him to be careful, anything, but he was gone before you had the chance.

you made quick work of evacuating the passengers of the derailed train, making sure that they were all confirmed to be outside of the carriages before entrusting their safety to zenitsu and nezuko. it was around when you had carried out the last passenger that you felt the ground rumble beneath your feet, coming from the other side of the embankment that you were currently placed at. 

before you gave yourself time to really think things through, you were shouting instructions to the pair of demon slayers and dashing off towards the source of the noise, hand readily placed on your sword. that was the direction that rengoku ran is all that went through your mind.

the scene that you found yourself facing did little to quell your fears. you reached two bodies first, recognising them as the hapless figures of inosuke and tanjiro. from a glance you could see the extent of their injuries, with the latter laying on the ground barely conscious. the boar-headed one could only stare at the fight happening several metres away, his shoulders slumped in defeat and swords hanging by his sides.

“there’s no opening,” he only whispered, barely audible. that much was true. even you had difficulty keeping up with the movements of rengoku and the demon that he was fighting. the fact that it had already been several minutes and that there was no clear advantage concerned you, and you unsheathed your sword.

“you two stay put, and learn what it means to be a hashira, alright?” you tried offering a brilliant smile, much like you had seen the flame hashira do so many times, but you hoped that yours didn't fall flat. from the slight relief shown on tanjiro’s worn face, though, you took that as a good sign.

without wasting another second, you rushed towards rengoku and the demon, assessing their movements. inosuke wasn’t joking when he said there wasn’t any opening, their movements equally matched. you took the chance and struck when rengoku managed to get the demon to stumble back. bringing your sword down in a vertical strike, you severed one of its arms, before taking a cursory glance back at rengoku to make sure that he was alright.

your wound did little to hinder the demon, as it simply chuckled before regrowing its limb.

“oh? another hashira? don’t tell me you think that this is a fair match,” the demon sneered as you held your sword in front of you, still nervously eyeing the blood that was beginning to drip at rengoku’s feet. it amazed you as to how he was still standing, let alone also ready to keep fighting, but you weren’t going to stop him with that amount of determination in his eyes.

“i wouldn’t say that you appearing after we had to fight an entire train was fair either, but here we are,” you glared at the demon, adjusting the grip on your sword.

“think you can hold on a little longer?” you asked rengoku, still facing the demon.

“always.” you could picture the steadfast smile on his face, lending you his strength whenever you needed it. you took a deep breath, starting your total concentration breathing and launching off of your foot, propelling yourself forwards.

you heard rengoku's footsteps right behind you, dependable as ever. when you swung your sword and sliced through, you knew that the flame hashira was there to follow through with a co-ordinated attack.

despite your best efforts, the upper six demon lived up to its status and provided to be more than a challenge for even both you and rengoku fighting him simultaneously. in fact, akaza had even managed to gain the upper hand a few times, leaving you with a cracked rib that was making it more difficult to focus and control your breathing.

but you and rengoku's big break arrived in the form of a rising sun that leeched itself into your surroundings. the glow was nothing but welcomed by you, though your demon opponent let fear flicker across its face for the first time this night as it turned foot and fled. the invisible adrenaline-fuelled strings that held you up snapped, and you felt the strength from your body sap, too spent to gove chase to akaza.

the bitter taste of defeat crushed you, numbing your senses as you barely heard the cries of tanjiro as he yelled at the retreating figure of akaza. you turned to your fellow yashira, eyes widening and senses returning as you took in the way he had slumped to the floor, head bowed as he kneeled.

"no, don't you dare," you mumbled, dropping to your knees too in front of him. panic gave your limbs a new purpose as your hands stretched out in front of you, seeking out the warmth rengoku still emitted even when mortally wounded.

the most pressing matter was the dark stain of blood that gave his uniform an unnatural sheen that was still spreading. you pressed a hand to the source of it, a large gash across his stomach that was much too deep for your liking. your other hand came to rest on his face, tilting his head up to look at you for any sort of good sign to cling onto.

"you better stay alive!" your voice was shrill, harsher than you wanted it to be, but those were factors you could hardly control more than the blood oozing from rengoku's stomach. you could see how unfocused his eyes were, and how heavy his head was when only being propped up by the waning strength in your hand. your own injuries had been forgotten, cast aside in favour for you to fear for the flame hashira's life.

and still, despite everything, the man still smiled. the blood covering half his face did little to mar its radiance. rengoku raised a shaking, bloody hand of his own, letting it fall heavy against your own as you felt your hold begin to slip.

"you're hurt too, you know." his words were more of a shaky exhale, though you heard it all the same. you felt a smile slip onto yours too as rengoku proved to still be so vigilant in the wellbeing of others.

"you don't need to remind me, shut up and save your energy," you whispered back. you didn't trust yourself to speak any louder in fear of your voice cracking.

"but.. i have to tell you something." the insistence in his eyes was back, burning into you so mich that you couldn't help but lean closer, trying to ease his burden of being audible.

"quit talking like you're dying." you were practically whispering into his ear, close enough to feel the rasp of his breath as he laughed, holding your hand tighter. his other hand came up to your own face, rough thumb brushing against the skin underneath your eye, wiping away a tear you never realised had tracked its way there.

"let me bandage you up." your voice may not have shook, but your hands definitely did as you disentangled them from rengoku's hold, urging him to put pressure on his wound while your fingers found purchase on the hem of your uniform and ripped off a strip of it. it was barely enough to cover his injury but you managed to wrap the severed cloth around his middle a few times, tying it tight and hoping that it was enough to stop the bleeding.

"just.. stay with me until backup comes, alright? you've got tell me something once we get out of here, remember?" rengoku nodded into your palm, smiling at your words as his eyelids fluttered shut. but you were close enough to still feel that he was warm, to feel the slight rise and fall of his chest as he managed to still breathe, and that gave you some comfort.

minutes felt like hours when you had to talk to fill the gap. whether it was to give rengoku something that tethered him to this mortal realm, or a way for you to distract yourself from your own pain, you onew that you would both have to tough it out a little longer, just until the others arrived.

"you know, i've always admired you." you were surprised at both his words and how clear rengoku's voice sounded. your grip on his hand tightened a little, and you leaned towards him so that your forehead pressed against his.

"this is hardly the time to say something like that, kyojuro." you tried not to laugh, the pain of your ribs starting to edge back in as the adrenaline left your body as the sun soaked your bodies.

"i just wanted you to know." you would have responded to the man if it weren't for the shouts that became all too clear. help was here, and everything was going to be okay now.

you didn't want to let rengoku out of your sight, but many insistent hands prised his body from your grip, and with barely the strength to speak there was little that you could do about it except succumb to the pain of your wounds and finally fall unconscious.

recovery was never an aspect of fighting that you looked forward to. when you finally came to, there were a few gripping moments of panic when you asked a nurse if rengoku was here, if he was alive. you had been assured that he was before the pain and medication kicked in again for a fitful sleep as your body healed.

but no matter how you were pressed back into bed, into the constraints of sleep, you never really felt like you were at rest. your mind was still racing to places your body couldn't as it pieced together the events just before you got hospitalised.

when you could finally get up without keeling over, you were stumboing your way through the hallways as stealthily as possible, leaning on walls for support and peering into rooms as you walked past, in search of your fellow hashira. your cards of luck had lined up when you stumbled upon his sleeping figure less than three rooms down from yours.

he looked a lot cleaner, still donning a serene smile even when unconscious and you felt the panic gripping your body loosen its hold. the throb of your most likely broken ribs was enough of an edge to keep you awake, and you made your way over to rengoku's bedside.

there was a convenient chair placed next to him, and you tried not to grunt in pain as you sat down in it. rengoku didn't even stir at your approach, and you resigned yourself to sitting there, studying his figure and resisting the urge to check whether he was actually breathing or not. if you focused enough, you saw the subtlest rise and fall of his chest, just enough to qualm your fears.

your concentration was broken as you heard the sliding door open again, and the hesitant voice of a nurse breaking your intense silence.

"ah, i'm sorry to interrupt but i need to change rengoku's bandages." to prove her point, the nurse raised her arm to emphasise the strips of fabric held by them. you stood up hastily, sending a cursory glance back at the still-sleeping form of rengoku.

like all matters regarding the flame hashira, you found your mouth and body working a little faster than your brain.

"it's alright, i can change them for you. i'm sure that you have plenty of other patients to tend to." the nurse nodded, though she still looked hesitant to hand you the bandages. you gave her a reassuring smile, stretching out your hand to take them. "i've had plenty of experience with this, don't worry."

the nurse appeared relieved, giving you a quick thanks before exiting and letting the door click shut behind her.

you turned your attention back to rengoku's sleeping figure only to watch him crack a single amber eye open and give you an almost sheepish smile. you couldn't help the flooding sensation of relief that drenched your bones, and you returned his gesture.

"i'm glad to see that you're alright." rengoku's eyes never left yours, and you felt yourself grow hot underneath his gaze.

"glad to see you too." you offered a hand, helping rengoku shuffle further up the bed with minimal effort on your side. despite the bandages covering a large expanse of his upper body, his grip on your hand was still stable and you bit back the fond smile threatening to bloom on your face.

luckily for you, rengoku seemed to get the message that he needed to get shirtless without you asking him, which saved you a whole lot of embarrassment. you weren't confident in your ability to look him in the eye and ask him to strip without blushing, though you did exactly that as your eyes raked over his bare skin.

littered with scars and covering taut muscle, it was hard not to let your eyes wander down his form. from the look on rengoku's face, he looked well aware of the effect that he had on you and fixing you with a practically imperceptible smirk. you were quick to ask him to turn around, and he obliged as quickly as someone with broken and bruised bones could manage.

his back was the same story, with broad shoulders and defined shoulderblades that had muscle twitching without you touching it. you sucked in a breath, way too audible for your liking, and tried not to let your hand stretch out to run your fingers down the expanse of his back. you were here to help treat him, not indulge in some fantasy of yours.

your mindset snapped back to professionalism as you grabbed hold of the fresh bandages, opting to put them on after you removed the old ones. while there was no sign of infection, you still grimaced at the bloody sight of rengoku's major wound. you tried not to show how much it had upset you, both now and in the moment, and your attention turned to your slightly trembling fingers.

you were careful to avoid where his skin was obviously discoloured from bruising, not wanting to cause him any unnecessary pain. he was warm to the touch, enough to invite you in with some false sense of confort before burning you alive. the way his back muscles jumped at your touch did little to help your concentration, but you shouldered on.

your mingld escaped you, insisting on recounting those painful minutes where rengoku was vpeeding out on the battlefield. there was a particular focus on his insistence to tell you something, and you bit your lip. surely, he would ask you at some point from now.

"how are your ribs?" rengoku's voice cut through the silence, its rasping edge acting as evidence of hiw soundly he had been sleeping earlier. while it wasn't the question you wanted him to ask you, you were never one to turn down conversation. especially from him.

"worry about yourself, kyojuro. i'm fine." your appliance of the fresh bandage meant that you would now have to be stood in front of him, a development that had your face flaming from the close proximity. silence set in, and all that distracted you from the rise and fall of his stomach was his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. your eyes flickered towards the ceiling, relying on your hands to guide yourself instead.

you dared to glance down and saw rengoku’s eyes fixed on your face already. there was something about his softened features and the look in his eyes that had you scrambling to stare at the blank ceiling again. as much as you would like to retreat at every first sign if danger or confrontation, you knew that you woukd have to talk to him soon, whether it was you or him who brought up the conversation topic from that day.

taking a deep breath, you perched yourself on the edge of rengoku's bed, still maintaining a professional amount of distance from him. still close enough to spot how his smile brightens when you choose to stay. you glanced down at your fingers, twisting knots into themselves as they were placed in your lap. you almost cursed and placed them underneath you to stop that, but instead you fixed your gaze on the flame hashira's ever-present smile.

"do you remember when you said you had to tell me something? right after akaza?" rengoku straightened up a little, nodding. you gave a cursory glance to the bandages safely wrapped around him, and winced as you remembered how much blood had left him that day. 

as if he could tell what you were thinking, rengoku reached forward and took your hand in his. you sucked in a breath at the sensation of his calloused hands, wincing as your ribs ached in protest. you couldn’t bring yourself to break his stare as your fingers intertwined, and rengoku brought you slightly closer to him. the tension was palpable, and you squeezed his hand in an attempt to alleviate some of it.

“what did you want to tell me, kyojuro?” you were still closing the distance between the two of you, voice barely above a whisper because there was no need to talk any louder for him to hear you. everything about him drew you closer, and the thought of pulling away never crossed your mind. you finally stopped, inches away, staring at him expectantly.

“well, there was a chance that i was going to die that day, so i was going to be selfish and tell you that i love you."

it amazed you how he could say that with such confidence when that statement had effectively swept you off of your feet. you were well aware that you looked more than caught off guard- your eyes had widened, and your mouth probably hung open from shock. that was nothing to stop rengoku’s words, though. if anything, it only encouraged him to keep going.

"and when i said that i admire you, i meant it. i admire your strength and how willing you are to help others. i admire you when it's sunset and you're laughing and i admire the way your hands feel, especially here." he guided your hand to his face, letting it cradle his cheek as he rested his own hand at your wrist, not willing to let go. you were sinking into the warmth of his body, letting his borrowed strength keep you upright.

“and most of all, i admire you because i find your beauty striking in everything that you do.” you were silent as rengoku’s eyes searched your own, watching as his lips split as he laughed. “you’re crying again.” you raised your other hand to your cheekbone, feeling the liquid there that began its trek down the planes of your face. you wiped them away with the back of your hand, keeping yourself anchored to rengoku as you curled your fingers around his own.

you felt so light that you could float away, and you couldn’t  help but laugh and grin as you fully processed the confession of the man lying underneath you. tears still rolled down your cheeks, and you couldn’t help the bittersweet pang as you remembered exactly why he was here recovering.

“you really scared me back there, you know?”

“it wasn’t my intention.” you laughed through your sniffle, feeling his warm hand trace patterns on the back of yours. you shuffled forwards and, as best as your shared injuries allowed it, you gave rengoku a hug. while your arms were around his neck, his rested squarely on your lower back, and it was better than anything else you could imagine.

you pulled away, relinquishing the comfort of his arms in favour of looking him in the eye as you prepared what to say next. admittedly, it was a lot easier when you knew how the other person felt about you.

“you know i admire you too, rengoku, and i love you. so much.” joy rewrote itself within his eyes, and they almost glowed with how intense his emotions were after you uttered those words.

“you do?”

your yes came out as a barely audible breath before you were being snagged forwards by him again. you practically crashed against his lips, but you welcomed the sensation, pulling yourself closer to him and settling on his lap.

you sighed into the searing kiss, only truly appreciating his warmth now as you felt it spread through you. you kissed him back intensely, ignoring the dull ache of your ribs to chase the addictive feeling that you only got around him.

around the person who loved you back.

take a look at the menu - ,, ⛩ ·˚ ༘ ꒱

[finelinevogue]

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

[bloodorangesoup]

Ice Cream and Bad TV | B.B.

Request: Late night thoughts : The only porn bucky watches are the ones that come on tv at like 2 or 3 in the mornings. Imagine cuddling up with him on his living room floor, aimlessly clicking around until you stumble upon the channel & he gets flustered & shy about it & you fuck him while porn plays in the background. Like I think it’s so romantic🥺🥺 riding him while the soft glow of the tv illuminates his face. His moans & grunting blending in with the actors 😫😫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble but I cannot for the life of me control myself)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ | cuddle fucking, unprotected sex(pretend ur on birth control for a sec)(still wrap it b4 your tap it), flustered Bucky, porn talk, the tiniest bit of sub!Bucky for like half a second, fluffy smut, you get the gist

My Masterlist

Notes: I did this in one sitting so sorry if it’s repetitive or has any mistakes. I think I have a major soft sport for flustered Bucky. I also had to think of a realistic name for a TV porn channel so bear with me. This is my first time writing smut in non-headcanon form so let me know how I did! Happy reading!

It was 2am on a Thursday night when your phone rang with your boyfriend's caller I.D. This wasn't the first time that Bucky had called you for this instance, it became a routine for you to talk him down after a nightmare and you prepared to do so when you picked up. Usually the first thing you would hear was his heavy breaths, the anxious buzz in his body making him fumble his words as he tried to focus on talking to you, so you were surprised to be met with still breathing and his typical deep, steady voice.

"Doll? You there?"

"Yeah, Buck, I'm here," you replied with a yawn, trying to sound as awake as possible. Bucky could hear the airiness of your voice and let out a sigh.

"Sorry, baby, I woke you up."

"You say that every time, I don't mind waking up for you. Besides, I don't have work tomorrow so I don't exactly need my beauty rest."

There was a pause. You could still hear static from the other side of the call but Bucky didn't say a word.

"Buck? You okay?" As if you snapped him out of a daydream, his hurried words rushed through the phone.

"Yeah yeah, sorry. I'm kind of out of it right now, I had another bad dream."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You had expected his usual answer of yes, then you would listen to his thoughts and comfort him through the horrific reality that were his nightmares.

"You said you don't have work tomorrow? Do you think you could come over right now? Actually never mind, I don't know what I'm saying, it's 2am." You could practically see Bucky shaking his head as he took back his question.

"I'll be there in twenty, James. You better have some blankets and pillows ready for me because we're taking over your couch."

Bucky let out a breath over the line, "See you soon, y/n, love you."

"Love you more," you said quickly before hanging up, not letting him get in the last 'I love you.'

~

Forty minutes later you found yourself on Bucky's lap on his living room floor. You two had abandoned the idea of the couch and chose to make a small fort with the couch as your scaffolding. There was a surprising amount of pillows and blankets surrounding the two of you, you had no idea Bucky even owned them all.

He sat with his back against the couch, your legs laid over his and your arms were around his neck, bringing his head down to your chest. He talked about his nightmare, sparing you the gruesome details, and once he was done he closed his eyes and leaned further into your chest, breathing in your scent. You gave the crown of his head a kiss and rested your head atop his. Comfortable silence washed over the two of you before you spoke up.

“You know what always makes me feel better?” you asked, lifting your head just enough to look down at him.

“What?” he mumbled into your chest. A soft smile graced your face at his cuteness.

“Ice cream and bad TV!” you announced excitedly before wiggling out of his grasp.

You did a little jog to his kitchen and reached down into the freezer to grab a small pint of ice cream you knew Bucky always kept stashed for you whenever you came around. Picking up two spoons and turning off all the lights in the apartment on your way, you quickly made your way back into the living room, lifting Bucky’s arms to situate yourself back into your position on his lap. You popped the lid of the small tub and handed it to Bucky along with a spoon. With your hands now free, you felt around in the dark for the remote and turned on the TV.

Waiting for the TV to completely turn on, you ate a spoonful of ice cream. You hummed at the taste of the cold sweetness coating your tongue. You gasped as you opened your eyes, finding Bucky scooping out some ice cream and lowering it to your mouth.

“Oh wait, let me make this cuter!” you squealed with your eyes wide.

Copying Bucky’s actions, you took a spoonful and lifted it to his lips, the both of you opening wide and feeding each other. You giggled at the cliché moment and Bucky couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how adorable you were.

You turned back to the TV, lifting the remote in your hands to change the channel to anything but the news that was already playing on the screen. As you flipped through sports recaps, music channels, infomercials, and movies that were already almost over, you sighed.

“Ugh, there’s nothing good on. Maybe if I start from the end of the list there’ll be better stuff,” you huffed.

Before Bucky could register what you said you had already typed in the biggest number you could enter and began flipping down through channels. Surfing through the empty screens, you landed on one called HotNet and suddenly the screen was completely taken over by a pair of boobs which then cut to a woman on her back and a man on top of her, rutting into her at a slow pace, while her moans echoed throughout the apartment. You quickly shuffled with the remote, trying to turn the volume down from it’s loud setting, spooked at the loud, obscene noise coming from the speaker.

“Oh my gosh, I wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed into Bucky’s chest, “God, I hope your neighbors didn’t hear that.”

Bucky stared at the screen with wide eyes, hoping you would change the channel before noticing that the channel was in the On Demand section. You gasped through your laugh, collecting yourself before turning back to the TV and shaking your head.

“Jeez, I didn’t even know they still had porn like this on public television.” You looked back down at the remote, clicking the Guide button. Bucky’s heart stopped as the description took over the screen, the video still playing in the top right corner. In bold letters the words On Demand titled the card. Even worse, the bottom of the screen displayed a small box containing the information,

$19.99

purchased with debit card xxxx-9758

You furrowed your brows in confusion, realization slowly softening them, before a mischievous smirk took over your face. You lifted your head to look at Bucky, his face looked down at your lap, refusing to meet your eyes. You tapped the bottom of his chin with the remote, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Did you order TV porn, Jamie?” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice, and you only ever used that nickname when joking around, yet Bucky still felt extremely embarrassed. He felt as if he just got walked in on while touching himself. It didn’t help that it was you that saw it, he wanted to crawl in a hole and never look back.

“Ah, you’re blushing,” you squealed as you took his cheeks in your hands, “oh come on, it’s not that embarrassing Bucky.”

“Ugh, can we please pretend you didn’t just see that,” Bucky groaned, closing his eyes to escape your stare. He set down the ice cream next to him and lifted his forearm over his eyes.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself and pushing up to swing your leg under you to the other side of his lap, you straddled him.

“Hey, it’s really not that bad. I mean we’ve had sex before Buck, I think you’d rather have me find this than Sam or someone else.” He let out another groan and lowered his head to lean against your neck.

“Angel, please don’t talk about Sam while you’re on top of me and there’s porn playing on the TV.”

You laughed and ran your hands down his arms, letting one of your hands run up behind his neck and weaving your fingers into his hair. You gripped the back of his head and gently tugged him back up to face you.

“Why,” you sang, deciding to have some fun with him in his flustered state, “is this turning you on?” you whispered the last part.

Before he could respond you leaned down and kissed him. You didn’t bother to start off slow as you usually would, Bucky could taste the hunger from every parting of your lips. His hands gripped your waist, you rocked your weight forwards to rub against him. Bucky’s head clouded, his senses felt overloaded in the best way possible, your movements mixed with the sounds of the moaning coming from the TV were getting him hot. You pulled back before getting too carried away, a smile on your swollen lips.

“So, baby, tell me about it.” You said. It was Bucky’s turn to furrow his brows and he cocked his head to the side in question, mind still foggy from the feeling of you grinding on him.

“What kind of porn do you watch?” you clarified, looking at him like you just asked what his favorite color was.

“Uhm, you want to know about that stuff?” Bucky looked at you with caution, feeling out if he should listen to you or not.

“Well, yeah. I mean I don’t know how it was back then, but most people nowadays watch porn. It’s not super taboo to talk about it,” you explained. You weren’t going to force him to talk about it if he really didn’t want to, but your desire to hear what Bucky was into was strong.

He hesitated for a moment, looking in your eyes and seeing curiosity clouded with lust. He cleared his throat.

“Well, pretty much this stuff,” he gestured with his hand to the TV before putting it back on your waist, “there’s this girl on there, she kinda looks like you, so I buy the videos with her.” He closed his eyes and internally groaned at his words, he didn’t mean to come off so perverted. God, you had already found his porn, the last thing he needed was for you to be thinking he was a creep.

“Y’know that’s actually kinda sweet,” you giggled, “what do you like about those videos?”

Feeling a bit more comfortable knowing you weren’t grossed out, Bucky continued.

“I like the ones where it’s dark and slow. It’s usually quiet and there’s candles and stuff,” he explained shyly. Of all the surprises that came with dating Bucky, you had to admit finding out he was into romantic porn was one of the biggest ones.

Bucky cleared his throat again before questioning you, “Do you watch porn?” He felt almost wrong asking that. He knew that women in this age were more sexually liberated, but the words still felt sticky in his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, of course I do.” Bucky seemed surprised at how casually you answered. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking you to go on.

“Well specifically, I actually really like the videos that are like this,” you said, your head looking down at you straddling him, he followed your gaze, taking in how nice you felt on his lap. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest. Your faces were so close your noses were almost touching. You could feel his rapid heart beat under your palm and the quick rise and fall of his chest. “Do you ever watch the ones that look like this, Bucky?” He looked up at you and nodded with wide eyes, his pupils were blown and his mouth was open like he was searching for the words to respond.

You grasped his jaw in your hand, your thumb on his chin, and looked him in the eyes. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, but with the newfound knowledge you had, you took your time with your actions. Within the last five minutes, Bucky had revealed to you not only that he liked soft, romantic porn, but that he also watched a specific actress because she looks like you. The one goal in your head was to fulfill his fantasy the best you could at the moment.

With his head still in your hand, you held your eye contact as you let your knees move out, grinding yourself against his growing erection. He let out an involuntary whimper. That was the last straw. You pulled his face to yours, joining him in a hard, yet loving kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pushing your chest against his, trying to get as close as possible.

Bucky’s dick was painfully hard. He couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of you on top of him. His body felt like it was on fire, he was insatiably horny and couldn’t control the way his hips bucked up to grind with you. He felt like a horny teenager the way his mind was filled only with images of you naked, imagining you like that on top of him like you were now.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, keeping your pace slow as you glided it across and bit at his lower lip. A moan made its way out of your mouth and into his as you felt him buck up against you.

You slid your hands down his chest, fumbling with the hem of his shirt before his arms raised, giving you access to peel it off him, throwing it up on the couch. Bucky kissed down your neck, licking over the shell of your ear, and sucking at the center of your throat. He reached down and slipped his hands under your shirt, sliding up and down your waist before gliding up and lifting your shirt over your head, discarding it with his.

Bucky wasted no time reaching around you and unclipping your bra and dragging it down your shoulders. He cupped your breasts, squeezing them with his large hands before bringing you into another tender kiss. Despite your frantic movements, there was a spark of passion cracking through the air, the both of you desperate to feel each other closer.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily and resting your forehead against his.

“I wanna make love to you, y/n, please, let me make love to you,” he groaned with a slight whine in his voice. He sounded like he was about to crack.

“Please, Bucky.”

You leaned back on your hands and lifted your hips, giving Bucky the room to pull down your shorts and panties in a few swift tugs. He quickly got up on his knees and pulled down his sweats and boxers, sitting back down and tugging them off his legs. You reached your arms forward, Bucky grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling you back to straddle him again. You gasped at the feeling of his cock under your bare pussy, your wetness from all the grinding and kissing making you slide over him.

You leaned forwards, capturing his lips between yours and raising yourself up on your knees. Reaching under yourself, you gripped his cock, wet with your arousal, and lined him up with your cunt. Bucky gripped your hips as you sank down on him, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from rutting up into you. You stayed like that for a second, adjusting to the way he filled you. Seeing the remote lying on the floor, you grabbed it and slightly turned up the volume, only enough so that you and Bucky could hear the actress in the video being ravished by her co-star.

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you began to slowly move up and down over him, riding him just as you had told him you liked to watch. His hands moved up from your waist, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples in between his fingers. You let out a hiss as he rolled them between his fore finger and his thumb, tugging on and rubbing his thumbs over them. He reached around to grab your ass, squeezing and rubbing your cheeks and you used him to pleasure yourself.

You were a moaning mess over him and he wasn’t much different. The room was filled with the sounds of the porn playing on the TV mixed with the sounds of your own cries of pleasure. If the neighbors hadn’t been woken up by the TV, they sure were by you two.

Bucky sat back on his knees, his hands slid down to your thighs, moving your legs from under them and wrapping your legs around his back. His arms worked their way back up to wrap around your waist, bringing you ever so close. The new angle pushed him even deeper up into you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, giving you access to all the sweet, desperate sounds falling from his lips.

You were now pushing up with your feet behind him, rolling your hips over his. The new technique made your clit rub over his pelvis, the sensation making you throw your head back and let out a deep moan. He took the opportunity to continue kissing your neck, going lower with every lick and bite. He sucked at your collarbone, leaving a deep purple mark in its place.

Suddenly, he was using his arms to lift you up, not pulling out of you, and laying you down on the blanket-covered floor. You instinctively locked your ankles together, pulling him closer as he thrusted into you. Bucky had his metal arm holding himself up while his flesh one squeezed your breasts, feeling them move with his thrusts. He lowered his head to your chest and licked one of your nipples, grazing his teeth over it before taking it in between his lips and sucking. Your hands flew to the back of his head, singing praises as you wove your fingers into his hair. He continued to alternate between your breasts, leaving love bites around them and sucking on their sensitive peaks.

You could feel your body buzz with anticipation, you were so close. The moans escaping your mouth were lewd and uncontrolled. Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around your waist, lifting your chest flush against his.

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to kiss him. Nothing felt better than making love with Bucky felt. This was definitely not the first time you two had been intimate, but none of those previous times had ever been like this. You could feel the passion flowing through his body into yours. You looked up at his form over you, how beautiful he looked with the light of the TV screen glistening against the beads of sweat on his forehead. There was absolutely nothing in the world compared to having him, in all his beauty, to yourself like this.

Bucky’s heart was exploding in his chest. What had started out as an embarrassing, nightmare-fueled night had turned into the most intimate experience he ever had in his life. Love was already established in your relationship, but Bucky had never truly made love to you. He looked down in awe at your disheveled state, at the way your hair was sticking to your forehead, at the way the only light in the room gave you an angelic glow. He wanted nothing more than to give himself completely to you, to make you come all over him.

He leaned his forehead against yours, pushing his face forward once every few seconds to kiss you. He was close, and he wanted you to come with him. He leaned into you even more, his cheek pressed against yours, his lips next to your ear.

“I love you so much, y/n, God, you feel so good. I love you, I love you,” Bucky’s voice was deep and strained, his words being emphasized by each push into your wet pussy. You let out another loud moan.

“I love you, James,” you whined as he hit your sweet spot, “I love you so much.”

Bucky’s hand wedged itself in between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit and gently rubbing it. You were completely overwhelmed, this is what it felt like to make love to someone. Your body began to shake and your breathing became erratic. Bucky thrusted harder, working to push you over the edge.

“I want you to come in me, Bucky,” you gasped as his thrusts got faster and lost their rhythm.

Your mouth turned open in a silent scream as you came. Bucky felt your walls clench around him, squeezing the life out of him. He let out a shaky groan as he fell over the edge. His eyes shut tight and his body tensed as he spilled into you.

Wrapping his metal arm around your back and securing your body to his, he rolled on his flesh shoulder onto his back. You went limp against him, laying your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow down. He was still buried within you, connected to you. Letting your eyelids fall shut, you savored the feeling of being full of him and his love.

You lifted your head to kiss his jaw.

“I’m glad you called me, Bucky. I love you.”

“I am too, doll. I love you more.”