#the level of harassement against this man is WILD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vodika-vibes · 1 year ago

Text

Post Order 66 part 16

Cal and Spark decide that organized rebellion may, actually, be their thing. Rex has a conversation with Fives. Kanna gets some surprising news, which she shares with Fox and Wolffe. And the crew of the Liberty make a startling discover while raiding a ghost ship.

Tagging: @starrrgazingbunny, @thestarwarslesbian, @xylionet

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” Senator Chuchi had the grace, at least, to genuinely look apologetic. Not that it did much for Cal’s mood. Or Spark’s, for that matter.

“There’s gotta be something you can do, mate-er…Senator.” Spark said, his eyes wild.

“I’m sorry. My hands are tied.” She smiled up at the much taller man, “Maybe if Senator Organa was still alive but-” Riyo Chuchi shook her head, “I’m sorry.” She politely excused herself back to her aide.

“She thinks the Empire killed the Organas,” Cal murmured under her breath.

“It probably did.” Spark replied scathingly. “Come on, Dove. Time to reassess.”

“Don’t call me that.” Cal said immediately, as she scrunched up her nose at the awful nickname. “Also, incoming.” She tilted her head towards the pair of clones heading their way.

“Fuck.” Spark grabbed Cal’s arm and tugged her in the opposite direction that the clones were coming from.

“That’s enough of that,” Dogma, because of course it was fucking Dogma, said as he cut them off, “I’m afraid I’m here to take you both in.”

“Why the fuck are you so obsessed with us” Spark snapped, “We committed no crime.”

“Harassing a Senator-”

“We weren’t harassing her!” Cal blurted.

“Is it illegal to talk to a Senator now?” Spark asked, fury writ on every line of his body.

“Then what were you talking to her about?” Dogma asked, his voice flat.

“We wanted her support in allowing concerts back to Coruscant,” Cal lied flawlessly.

“Concerts? You expect me to believe that?”

“I have fucking statistics.” Cal spat, glaring up at the taller man. She couldn’t believe that he was related to Fives. “You wanna hear them?”

He sighed behind his helmet, “Fine. You were discussing concerts.” Dogma was still for a moment, though Cal would put credits that he was looking between the both of them. And when he spoke, it was very, very careful. “You cannot stay here.” He said.

Spark’s head snapped up and Cal looked momentarily stunned. “I beg your pardon?” She asked.

Dogma seemed to struggle for a moment, before he spoke again, “You cannot stay here.” He repeated. “It’s not…” He paused, “This place isn’t for you.”

“As in the Senate plaza or-”

“Coruscant isn’t for you.” Dogma interrupted, his voice sounding odd.

Spark and Cal shared a look. Unless Cal wasn’t mistaken…that sounded like a warning. Obviously, by the look on Spark’s face, he agreed. Maybe Spark’s Dogma was still in there somewhere, under the rules and regulations that he hid behind.

Spark looked at Cal and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Cal sighed silently, and then she focused her gaze on Dogma. “Of course,” She said brightly, “We’ll be leaving then.”

Dogma nodded, and turned away from her and Spark.

Cal winced when Spark struck, using a stun baton he pulled from Cal’s purse to knock Dogma unconscious. He then handed Cal back her stun baton, and slung Dogma over his shoulder.

“Alright. Time to go.”

“This is a terrible idea, Spark.” Cal said as she started running ahead of Spark.

“I know, I know! But I couldn’t leave him behind!”

“You’re so very lucky that Melli already told us we could take their ship when we needed to run from Coruscant!” Cal called over her shoulder as she ran over to the lift that would bring them to the lower levels.

Spark joined her, but didn’t activate the lift until he finished flinging Dogma’s armor somewhere else. “Right?”

The pair slumped against the walls of the lift as the door slammed shut and they started going down. They looked at each other, and then down at Dogma.

Cal broke first, a muffled giggle escaping her lips. Spark soon joined her, his deep laughter filling the small room.

He held out his fist, eyes dancing with mischief, “Long live the Republic.”

Cal grinned and bumped her fist against his, “Ever may her light shine.”

*************

Rex didn’t think he was ever going to see Jesse again. In fact, he was fairly certain that his vod died in that crash. But here he was, standing there, an easy grin on his features and a prosthetic arm slung over Raiya’s shoulders.

And that was a surprise in and of itself.

Oh sure, he knew that Jesse had a thing for Raiya. Hell, a blind man would have been able to see it, with how obvious Jesse had been about her. But he didn’t think that Jesse would ever pull his head out of his ass long enough to actually be able to touch her.

“Is there a reason you haven’t spoken to him yet, Rex?” Fives was stretched out across two seats next to him, and Rex didn’t have the will to tell him that he had to share.

“...I left him behind, Fives.” Rex said quietly, “I left him behind. How many of our other vod’e-”

“Come on, Rex, that’s not fair.” Fives interrupted, “By all accounts, it was chaotic right after the order went out. You had to get Ahsoka to safety. You had to. Jesse doesn’t blame you for that.”

“...You talked to him?”

“Yup. And Raiya. She cried, which is impressive since I thought she hated me.” Fives shrugged, “Turns out she’s just really reserved.”

Rex let out a short laugh, “I could have told you that,” His gaze flickered over towards Jesse and Raiya, and he smiled when Jesse kissed her temple. “She looks better,” He said with a sigh.

“Oh?”

“Those first few months after the Order went out, I went looking for her. I…my biggest fear was that she was stuck on the Resolute. I offered her a place here, but she just seemed to look right through me.”

“Mm. I got the feeling that she was tired of fighting…and maybe she was a little afraid that we would have to fight vod’e.” Fives picked up his bottle but he didn’t take a drink, instead he started peeling the label.

It was a specific brand of drink that Fives preferred. So it was kind of surprising that he wasn’t drinking it.

“Everything alright?” Rex asked.

Fives paused, and then he tilted the bottle towards him, “Yeah. Everything is great.”

Oh, it absolutely wasn’t. “Come on, vod. What’s eating you?” Rex prodded.

Fives was quiet for a long moment, and then he set the bottle down on the table, “You know I have - had- a girl on Coruscant, right?”

Rex felt a surge of guilt. He did know that. He even met her before. He had been the one to tell her that Fives had been killed, after all. And then he just…never checked on her again. “I remember, yeah.”

“Have you seen her? Spoken to her?”

“Not…not since I gave her your death announcement.” Rex admitted quietly.

“Right. Right, that makes sense.” Fives paused, “It’s probably for the best. Her and her friends, they aren’t really the organized rebellion types. And if she thinks I’m dead then she probably moved on. That’s…that’s good.”

“I can look her up, if you want. Reach out to her?”

Something akin to longing flickered across Fives face, but he shook his head. “I don’t want to get her involved if she’s not already.” He sighed softly, “You should go and talk to Jesse before he thinks you’re mad at him for something. He’s dumb like that sometimes.”

“I heard that, Fives!” Jesse called from across the room.

“You were meant to, vod.” Fives replied with an easy grin.

Jesse crossed the room and smacked Fives’ feet off one of the chairs, and dropped into it. “How’s it going, Rex?” He grinned, “I owe you a story, don’t I?”

Rex scoffed, “Yeah. Start with how the fuck you managed to survive the crash.”

********************

“Are you okay?” Bee asked as he focused his optical sensors on Kanna, who was sitting at her desk in their med-bay on the Starsinger, her head resting against the cool metal of the table.

“Ugh.”

“Are you ill?” Bee clarified.

“I feel like crap, Bee.” Kanna admitted.

The medical droid hummed thoughtfully, “Please move over to the examination bed.”

Kanna sighed, but knowing that Bee wouldn’t not be dissuaded, she obediently moved over to the medical bed and gratefully flopped onto her back.

“What symptoms are you having?” Bee asked as he puttered around her.

“Nausea. Exhaustion.” Kanna listed, “It’s probably just a bug.”

“Possibly.” Bee agreed, “But I will run some tests just to be safe.”

“Fine, fine. Do what you like.” Kanna agreed, honestly just grateful to be off of her feet and laying down.

Apparently she managed to doze off, as half an hour later, Bee woke her up, holding a sheet of flimsy in his hands. “I have good news.” He said in his modulated voice, “You do not have the flu, a cold, or a stomach bug.”

“Okay? So it’s, what, food poisoning?”

“No.”

“Are you going to make me guess, Bee?” Kanna asked, growing annoyed.

“You’re pregnant.”

There’s silence for a very long moment.

“What.” Kanna said.

Bee tilted his head, “You are currently with child.” He repeated, “Approximately 8 weeks along, which is about when the average humanoid starts showing symptoms.”

Kanna gaped at him, wordlessly, for a moment. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Though I can rerun the tests if you’d prefer.”

“...yes please.”

In the end, Kanna made Bee rerun the tests three times before she accepted what he, and the medical devices were saying. She was pregnant.

It’s not that she never wanted children of her own. And it’s not even that she never wanted to be pregnant. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that she had never, once, spoken about actually having children with Fox or Wolffe. And she wasn’t so stupid to think that adopting a child was the same thing as agreeing to having a biological child.

But, more importantly than that, with the state of the galaxy…well, surely bringing a child into this mess was irresponsible.

Kanna slipped into her bedroom, a thoughtful frown on her face. She would talk to Fox and Wolffe, preferably at the same time, and hopefully they wouldn’t freak out too much.

For a moment, she pressed her hand over her stomach, and she allowed herself to daydream. A little girl who looked like Fox and Wolffe, with curly hair and bright eyes. Or maybe a little boy who looked like her, but had his fathers coloring.

She allowed herself a moment, just a moment, of excitement, and then she followed Bee’s instructions to take a nap to regain some of the energy that she expended.

Kanna woke up several hours later at the sensation of a hand stroking her hair. “Morning sleepyhead,” Fox’s voice was warm, “You’ve been asleep for hours.”

Kanna yawned, and pressed against Fox’s side, “Bee said I needed to rest.” She murmured.

“We heard.” Kanna smiled when she felt Wolffe press against her back, “He was very insistent that we let you rest as much as possible.” She felt his lips on the back of her neck, “Sorry, mesh’la, we didn’t know you were sick.”

“S’okay.” Kanna felt sleepy and warm, and she almost allowed the presence of Fox and Wolffe to lull her back to sleep, when she remembered that she had something important to tell them. So she slowly pulled herself to a sitting position.

Wolffe let out a disgruntled noise and tried to tug her back down, “Mesh’la, sleep now.”

She smiled and shook her head, “I need to tell you both something.”

“Can it wait?” Fox asked, as he lightly combed his fingers through Kanna’s hair.

She leaned into his touch, “Mm…Not really. It’s important.”

Kanna felt the look Wolffe and Fox were shooting at each other, “Alright, cyare. We’re listening.” Fox said as he tugged her against his side.

“Mm.” Kanna took a moment to gather her thoughts, and then she decided to just spit it out, “I’m pregnant. That's why I’m sick.”

Neither Fox nor Wolffe moved, or even made a noise, for a moment. And then Fox shifted and he lightly cupped Kanna’s face with his hands, “Are you sure?” He asked, there was something…odd…in his voice. Something Kanna had never heard before.

“I had Bee run the test four times.” Kanna said, “I know it’s not something we talked about-” She added quickly, unable to get a reading on either of their emotions, with how well they were shielding.

“A baby,” Fox breathed out, leaning in and raining little kisses all over Kanna’s face. “Our baby.”

Kanna squeaked when Wolffe slung his arm around her waist and tugged her down to the bed, “A baby Kanna,” He murmured into her hair, “That’s…” He exhaled slowly and tightened his arms around her, “The most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re not mad?” Kanna asked.

Fox laughed, and leaned down to continue raining kisses on her face, “You’re amazing, Kanna. But you can’t make a baby by yourself.”

“How could we possibly be angry when you’re giving us a family?” Wolffe asked, holding Kanna tighter, “But, you realize that this means no more off ship excursions.”

Kanna just laughed, relieved that they seemed to be as excited as she was, more so even. She snuggled back against Wolffe and she giggled when Fox dropped onto the mattress next to her, his arms sliding securely around her as well.

****************

“Since when do we raid ships?”

“Since we heard that this ship was carrying slaves.” Firebrand replied to her medic. She was one of the Empire’s more infamous Pirates, right up there with Hondo Ohnaka and Maz Kanata.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure why the Empire was dogging her, it wasn’t like she targeted their ships, after all.

“Are you sure about the intel, boss?” Another one of her men asked, this one was a human with stark white hair, “The ship seems dead in space.”

“Not quite, but there’s a very small amount of energy going through the ship,” The youngest member of the crew corrected as she peered at a readout, “But you should wear your helmet boss.” She added, “I don’t think we’re going to find any survivors.”

Firebrand pulled her helmet over her face, “I’ll take care of it, kiddo.”

She boarded the ship alone. There was no reason to risk the lives of her crew, afterall.

Once on the other ship she frowned beneath her helmet. There was no gravity, and according to her helmet computer, life support had been turned off as well.

Firebrand grabbed the wall handles, and carefully propelled herself through the ghost ship, using her flashlight to make sure there was nothing on board that could hurt her.

“Sounds like you guys were right, the ship’s empty.” She said over her comm.

“You should check the cargo bay,” Her medic said, “The little power in the ship is all heading there.”

“Alright.” She pulled up her helmet hud and activated the map. The cargo bay was two floors down, and the lift was at the end of the hall. Easy.

Not easy. The lift had no power, which meant she had been forced to go down through the maintenance shafts. She hated traversing maintenance shafts. It was always risky.

Still, she managed to get the door open down in the cargo bay, and now that she knew she was alone, she activated the lights on her armor, allowing her to light up more of the room.

“Woah.” Firebrand breathed out, her eyes wide as she took in the sheer amount of stuff that was in the cargo bay. She approached a crate, and squinted at the label on the top.

And then she activated her com, “Guys. This is Count Dooku’s War Chest.”

“What!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Firebrand, carefully maneuvered around some of the crates, “The ship’s been abandoned, though.”

“Some of that stuff will be valuable, boss. Take a look around.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She continued searching the room, but the majority of the stuff in there would be useless for the crew of the liberty.

And then she came to the end of the cargo bay, where a massive something was standing, it was the only thing on the ship humming with power, and it was covered in a cloth, hiding what it was, likely.

She grabbed the cloth and she pulled.

Underneath the cloth was a cryo pod. And inside the pod was a young man, deep asleep.

A young man with a face she knew well.

“It’s me.” She said, staring up at the sleeping man, a sick feeling in her stomach, “We’re only taking one thing from his ship. Retract the bridge, we’re doing a space walk. Cargo bay to cargo bay.”

There was silence for a moment, and then her comm crackled to life, “Copy that, boss.”

************

Kix woke quickly. One minute he was sleeping, and the next he was wide awake, and staring at a brightly lit, but stained, ceiling.

“You’re awake. Good.” Kix turned and stared. The Feeorin man walked over to him and ran a scanner over him, “Names Bug. You’ve been out of the cryo pod for three days, we were worried that you weren’t going to wake up.”

“W-where-?”

“You’re on the Liberty. We specialize in freeing slaves.”

Kix slowly sat up, “I need to get back, my brothers-”

“Hold on there, cowboy.” Bug said, “Let me get the Captain to talk to you.”

Kix opened his mouth to say something, but paused when the door slid open and a young woman, younger looking than him even, stepped into the room. “My ears were burning,” She said.

“He’s doing well, for someone who just woke up. Was hoping you could talk to him, boss.”

“Yeah, I figured.” The woman dropped gracelessly into a chair, and took up about as much space as a woman her size possibly could. “Names Fira, this is my ship.”

“Kix, I’m a Medic with the 501st. I really need-”

Fira held up a hand to stall his flood of words, “There’s no real easy way to say this,” she said slowly, “But the Clone Wars have been over for three years.”

Kix blinked, “So…so the Republic-”

“No longer exists.” Fira replied, slightly awkwardly. “There was…well…there’s an Empire now. Run by Palpatine.”

“...and my brothers?”

“Turned on the Jedi and slaughtered them.” Fira sighed, “As I understand it, the 501st marched on the Jedi temple, led by Vader.”

“...no…”

“Rumor has it, though, that the entirety of the 501st vanished a couple of days ago. The men and their ship.” Fira shrugged, “Don’t know how accurate that is though.”

Kix sat back, and buried his face in his hands, and Fira sighed, “You can stay with us, if you want.”

“Why?”

She flashed a humorless smile, “I have a soft spot for lost causes.” She stood and stretched, and wow, she really was short, “Bug will get you sorted, Kix.”

“...thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’ll probably regret staying with us before long.” She waved and left the room, and Bug, who had been watching them blandly.

“She always says that, and we always stay.” Bug smiled calmly at Kix. “Welcome to the Crew.”

#star wars #tcw #post order 66 #part 16 #now with more ocs #lol

7 notes · View notes

sheepwithspecs · 2 years ago

Text

Paramour

|| PLvsAA || Rated T ||

Ao3 Link

When fighting is just an outlet for other emotions, something's bound to break eventually.

Their first kiss was entirely unintentional.

It had been a fight, one of the rare fights that went beyond the scope of their duties as Inquisitors, devolving into petty name-calling and well-aimed insults. She'd been on a role, having more than enough fodder from the 'Wild Ride' to insult not only his current place as the town laughingstock, but also his horsemanship. It always delighted her to no end to see his face flushing deep red with mingled anger and humiliation, to almost hear the grinding of his teeth by the motion of his jaw alone, the subtle clanking of his armor as his limbs shook with fury under her verbal assault. It was normally by this point that he'd make an exit, refusing to listen to her 'pointless, unfounded comments on his person'.

But he didn't.

The first second his mouth was on hers, she felt nothing but shock. Her arguments died in an undignified squawk, her mind racing to figure how he could move across the room so quickly, her ears bereft of her own shouting as well as his. Then, as the shock became kindling for her indignation, he seemed to understand the position he was in, the short length from her knee to his groin, from her claws to his face. He pulled away, his face equal parts staggered and unremorseful.

For a long moment, they merely squared off in silence, his unrepentant eyes locked in an impromptu staring match with her blazing ones. It was only broken when her hand—gloved, not clawed, to her own dissatisfaction—came up of its own accord and met his cheek with enough force to knock his head sideways. He blinked, tongue working in his mouth, and she wondered if she'd made him cut his cheek. Serves him right.

"What—how dare—who do you think you are?!"

"I had to make you shut up somehow…" He was breathing just as hard as she. "'Twas all I could think to do." Something about those words, spoken so matter-of-factly, only roused her ire more. Her hand came up to repeat the slap, but he was on his guard this time; he caught her wrist in an iron grip, holding her arm at bay while she struggled to land another blow.

"How dare you touch me," she hissed, only angrier by the fact that he was stronger than her, and had no reason to keep from flaunting said strength. "Give me one good reason that I shouldn't have you thrown the dungeons for harassment!"

"Verbal abuse from one's superior." His smirk was infuriating. "If you file a complaint, I'll be next in line behind you. I'm sure the Storyteller will be surprised at such vile words from a lady as professional as the High Inquisitor."

"You would use a lowly tactic like blackmail?" she spat, still working on wrenching her arm from his grasp. "When you accosted me? When you're accosting me right now?" He let go of her abruptly, and she nearly tumbled to the stone floor.

"Prove it." He raised his hands in a mocking manner. "Prove that I laid my hands upon you. Bring forth witnesses." They both knew she couldn't, that it was only his words against hers. That even with such a tight grip, he wouldn't have pressed hard enough to bruise her. His hand rose, one finger pointing to his face. "I, however, have a better case." Already, she could see the bright red of her handprint against his cheek.

"You deserved it," she scowled; turning away to hide her clenched fists. How dare he try to usurp her in such a manner! And… that was to be her first kiss?! She wasn't the most maidenly of women, but even she wanted something more than an angry gesture meant to keep her silent! She wanted to spit, even though it was only his lips against hers, nothing more.

"I never claimed otherwise, milady."

She hated the thought, but she wanted him.

It was her to kiss him next, many moons later when he just wouldn't shut up and her frustration levels were already at maximum capacity thanks to the old man's insane workloads. She realized on that day how quickly it could happen, how easy it was to stop the flow of words in a way that was almost guaranteed success.

He didn't slap her, though he did push her away. And he was angry, rightly so. But that didn't stop her from sneering down at him, nor did it stop his hands from yanking her back towards him a moment later.

After that, their fighting became charged in different ways. Their arguments, normally clipped and borderline spiteful, eased until they were throwing barely hidden innuendos and playful banter instead of snide comments. It got to the point that all she had to do was look him over, her eyes alight with glee as she pointed out how easily he managed to work his way up the ladder of the knights, hinting at how she knew some of them were not at all interested in the opposite sex. He was not above the same treatment, staring blatantly at her chest while he wondered aloud if she wore such tight clothes on Parade days for some secret, exhibitionist pleasure.

She-devil, tin man, harpy, hothead, kitten, pageboy. Even their insults lacked a certain bite these days.

"You two seem to be getting used to each other," The Storyteller remarked once, while praising her for the peace that permeated the Courthouse with the lack of tense screaming-matches from the Inquisitor's Hall.

"I suppose you could say that."

"Nitwit."

"Hardhead."

"Stubborn git."

"Immovable…woman."

"That place is a stain upon the town, and you know it." She fought the urge to cross her arms; such a tell would show defensiveness, a sign that he could wheedle his way through her resolve. It was fruitless—her mind was made up.

"'Tis a harmless place, with hardly any criminal activity. I'm more worried about the tree lines, where the witches keep popping up like mushrooms after a rain." He was as determined as ever. Though their fighting hadn't reached the pitches that it used to, these low-toned sparring matches were as exasperating as if they were shouting and gesticulating for all they were worth. It was fruitless, in a way—they were both as stubborn as a pair of mules in a farmer's field. Neither could outdo the other, and neither would stand down and let compromise take the lead.

"It's a fine thing when they're mourning the dead and we say "Ah, but look! There are no witches at the tree line; never mind the thieves that stole your purse and stabbed your father.""

"I rarely get reports of illicit activity there," he countered obstinately, lips pursed. He loomed over her, even with her high heeled boots. But her eyes being at the same level as his chin never deterred her from trying to stand over him. He respected her as the High Inquisitor; that much she knew. It was just in his nature to argue, the same as hers.

"Because it's an illicit place." She stepped close, scowling up at him. "There's no rhyme or reason to filing reports when you'll be arrested along with the rest of the criminals."

"'Tis not."

"'Tis so."

"'Tis not."

"'Tis so, and I've half a mind to incite you for suspicious activity. One would think you're harboring the criminals, rather then—" She stopped when he leaned down without pretense. Her mind harkened back to earlier arguments, where they always ended up with swollen mouths and nothing resolved. "Don't try to end it this way," she warned harshly, though she made no movement to back away and he wasn't crowding her in with his hands.

"Don't tempt me—"

"Don't you dare." Their noses brushed. "I'll arrest you this time, I swear it," He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her.

"You're full of hot air."

"Coward." Her lips brushed his as she whispered the word. She knew what was coming. Even so, she wasn't prepared for his teeth to catch her bottom lip teasingly. "Y-you—" He leaned back just enough that they could eye each other, his expression both guarded and heated.

"Leave the tavern to me," he murmured, eyes half-lidded as he bent towards her lips once more. She leaned back, bumping against the front edge of her desk as she evaded him.

"Sir Barnham." Her hand groped at her desk for something, some weapon, something. This whatever-it-was wasn't really teasing, not their status quo of bickering and mockery. This was different, a new outlet of emotion that left heat pooling in her gut and in her cheeks, which left her breathless as his parted lips brushed against her cheekbone. "S-Sir Barnham," she tried again, her voice pleading—but for what? For him to stop? Or… to keep going?

"Leave it to me," he repeated, his breath warm against her ear. "Don't worry about such paltry things, when you're needed for larger jobs. I can handle any criminals in that district."

"You won't convince me this way," she protested, though her shaky tone was saying otherwise. His hand rose to brush at one of the curls resting against her shoulder—surely it was just the cold metal of his gauntlet that made her skin so hot, the discomfort of it was the reason she lifted her head, not to give him better access to parts of her he shouldn't be touching in the first place…. "What are you doing?"

He pulled away, his eyes falling to the rapid rise and fall of her breast. This time, however, it wasn't for joking or petty jabs at a 'perverse nature'. He seemed to soak in the sight, gnawing at the inside of his lip while his hand fell to her shoulder, and then her waist. She stiffened, but to her own surprise she didn't stop him as he seemed to measure its span with his hand, fingers slowly drifting up towards her chest and tracing the seam of buttons on the front of her coat.

"I… I don't know," he admitted honestly, gauntlet gleaming in the light as it played against the darker fabric of her uniform. They both fell silent, watching the slow trek of his hand up her side. He didn't seem inclined to stop, and for the life of her she couldn't think of a good reason to stop him. They were coworkers and things were bound to be awkward later, yes, but it didn't override the fact that deep down, she had wanted to feel that metallic touch for a long time.

There was a telltale clang of iron footsteps in the hall that finally spurred him into action, his hand flying from her torso as though burned. He retreated towards the relative safety of his desk, staring at his open palm before clearing his throat and turning towards the door to great whoever had come to knock at it. She peeled herself from the desk, walking around to sit in her chair and busy herself—or pretend to busy herself—with the never-ending stacks of paperwork.

It would be a good three days before they could look each other in the eye.

"Lady Darklaw, I thought I told you to leave this district to me."

She froze, silently cursing. Why was he here? Making sure her face was schooled before she turned, she graced him with a longsuffering look.

"So you did. And lucky for you, I'm just heading home." It's not a lie; the Shades have contacted her about a problem in the woods, which she planned to see about. This was the easiest route to take. But now that she said aloud… it sounds suspicious. "Not encroaching on your territory," she half-joked with her usual sneer, hoping to throw him off the scent.

"You live this way?" He looked around at the dingy, derelict buildings. His mouth opened, but whatever he meant to say must have been deemed unworthy, or too rude. Perhaps a question about her pay?

"I-I'm taking a longer route home. I like to…." Any excuse her brain came up with seemed less than stellar. He waited, one brow arching when she took too long. Finally she sighed, making up a little white lie to please him. "Pssh. If you must know, I was giving two men the slip. I thought they might have been following me, but it seems I was mistaken. Or perhaps I merely walked faster than I thought I could."

"Two men?" His sharp eyes peered over her head at the dancing shadows in the alleys, the sky too clouded for the moon to offer more than a faint glow. "I'll walk you home, then. It may not be safe." His fingers twitched at his side, reaching for his sword. D-damn! He couldn't do that; her home was in a place that technically didn't exist!

"I'm fine," she excused herself quickly. "Trust me. You should go make sure any other young ladies don't get manhandled." She thought of his adoring 'fans', something like jealousy twisting her stomach. She pushed it back with a frown. "I'm sure they'll be grateful for it."

"Alright." She breathed a soft sigh of relief, hoping he didn't hear. "But I'll see you home first."

"That's not necessary!" Even in the dim lighting, she could see his eyes widen. Too loud! Now you really look shifty! "Er, that is—I can take care of myself." She envisioned her Shades, waiting in the dark and wondering where their mistress was. Why she hadn't come to them yet. "Really. I don't need—" She faltered when he stepped close, his eyes alternating between watching the shadows and her face.

"Lady Darklaw, it would make me feel better if I could see you safely to your door. I don't like thinking about… anyone trying to take advantage of you in the dark." She shook her head, motioning to the dagger she wore around her waist.

"I'm prepared for scenarios like that. And was I not able to outmaneuver them? I can easily find my way back home from here. I'd be more concerned about unarmed women walking these streets so late." Her voice was steady, assured.

"Still—" His brows furrowed, but her confidence seemed to work. "If you insist. But promise that you let me know anytime you feel unsafe."

"With pleasure." She nodded her assent. "Now, if you don't mind, it grows later by the minute. Good evening, Sir Barnham."

"Good evening, Lady Darklaw." She felt his eyes on her until she turned the corner. Walking quickly, she snuck to one of the Shades 'hidden' emergency bins, reaching in the dark and finding the spare Cloak of Invisibility that was kept there.

I'll find a way to carry one on me at all times now. It won't do to have him snooping around.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it !

It was easy to see how he'd snuck into the house, dressed up in a Shade cloak that seemed a little baggy for him. Her anger was not at him, though, but at herself. She watched him close the door quietly, the lock catching with a soft click as his eyes never left hers… or her eye, at least. She had to lend her Cloak of Invisibility to a new Shade who had lost his, along with a stern warning that he should find it sooner rather than later. She could have gotten a spare one on the way home, but she'd let herself be lulled into a false sense of security these past few months.

She should have known he'd find a way to follow her, even into the Woods.

"So… it's you, then." Her mouth opened to refute his statement, but she was struck dumb by the thought that he would recognize her voice, even as the Great Witch. He stepped forward and she stood, frozen by shock and horror from where she'd jumped from her throne when he pulled back the hood.

"Did you not think that I'd recognize this body?" he murmured, his hand reaching out and brushing up her waist. "Or these?" he continued, taking one of her clawed gauntlets in each hand. She stiffened as the air around them changed, charged with adrenaline. He was wary, his eyes checking the corners of the room. Looking for my Talea Magica, are you? His hands tightened around her wrists and she met his eyes through her mask, her lips parting.

It was a fight.

She managed to break free after a fierce, but almost silent struggle. He grunted as the force of her own muscles, however slight, were enough to throw him off-balance. She swung out, no longer caring if she cut him with her claws, but he ducked the blow and pushed, both hands pressing into her stomach with enough force to knock her back into the chair. She banged her head against the gilded edge, hissing in pain before kicking as he fought to get her dangerous gauntlets off her hands. He managed the left one, pinning her down with his shoulder as he worked on the right. She felt the heat of his body, saw the bare hands wrestling with her metal gloves, and realized—he's not armored.

Her teeth sank into his shoulder through the cloak, smiling as she heard his sharp yelp of surprise and pain. She fought against him, still kicking as she worked her left arm free. Spitting out the woolen taste of the cloak, she twisted her fingers in his hair and yanked backwards for all she was worth, tufts of hair coming out as he clenched his jaw and fought. Her right gauntlet came free and he threw it out of reach, momentarily caught off guard by the scar of fire on her hand.

Her only way was to escape. Throwing all her body weight on him, they tumbled out of the chair and onto the floor with a crash. Despite her bare hands being less of a match against him, she still slapped and punched and scratched until he rolled off of her. Scrambling to her feet, she ran for the secret door, only to fall hard on her face when he grabbed the end of her long dress and tripped her. Panting, she kicked at his hand, only to be tackled back to the floor and return to her previous bite-scratch-smack method. He managed to pin her arms to the floor, his heavy body weighting hers down so that no amount of bucking could offset him. He leaned in close, a red welt under his eye at odds with the scar on his brow.

Unable to think of anything else, she head-butted him.

They both let out a shout of pain, and then they were rolling on the ground with the sole intent of pinning the other long enough to catch their breath and gain an upper hand. While he was stronger and larger, she was lither and had enough adrenaline to at least match him, if not best him.

"Mistress? Venerable Mistress?" There was a bang out the door, the lock rattling as the Shade on the other side tried to open it. They both froze, him on top with one hand pinned and the other's fingers laced with her own, trying to arm-wrestle her away from his face. She took a breath and then his mouth was over her own, muffling her shout.

"Don't you do it," he snarled when he was sure she was out of breath. "Tell them everything's alright."

"Not a chance—" Again his mouth slanted over hers roughly.

"I can do this all day and the door's locked." Her hand trembled with the force of keeping it off the ground, lest he have her properly pinned once more. "Your call."

"V-Venerable Mistress? Have you taken a fall?" There was a panicked fidgeting. "Shall I call the others? Can you hear me?"

"I—I am well! Don't worry!" His fingers tightened, crushing hers between them. "Damn you," she spat in an undertone.

"I'm not the damned one," he answered harshly, eyes narrowed. "Take off the mask."

"No."

"Take it off." She heard the shuffling footsteps of the Shade as it left.

"N-o!" Her knees slid up faster than he could react, pushing him up and away as she kicked the breath out of him. He choked, sliding to the side and loosening his grip; she used the moment to her advantage, trying to stand and yank the tails of her dress out from under him and adjust her mask at the same time. Turning again to run to the escape door, she managed to get it halfway open before arms circled her waist and lifted her off the floor, away from the door. She gasped, grabbing his hair again and yanking up, this time taking a good handful before he dropped her. They grappled, shoving against walls and ripping curtains, cursing and growling like animals. Then, when she turned to slam her side against him, not realizing his hand was caught up in her veil, she heard a rip and felt the air on her upper face.

Her mask had torn in two, fluttering away from her and drifting towards the ground in a graceful mess of gossamer and dark cloth. Life seemed to slow down to a crawl as she felt her hair, unbound while wrapped up in her mask, come free and fall down around her. Her bangs fell over her eyes and she staggered back, pushing them away with bruised hands. They stood, the two halves of the mask between them as they panted and watched each other's movements. She waited for him to throw himself at her again, but without the mask he seemed more hesitant. She licked her lips, feeling the sweat dripping down her back as she took the time to push her hair into some semblance of neatness.

"So… all this time… you've been lying to m—to us. To the town." His breathing was labored, and when she looked back she saw his shoulders slumped, a look of pain on his face. "You've pretended to be helping us, when really this entire time you were one of them." His jaw twitched, hands fisting. "A… a w—a witch." He turned, kicking the chair with an exclamation of fury before running his hands through his hair.

"Sir Barnham, calm yourself." The words left her mouth before she could think about them, more from force of habit than anything else. He turned on her, eyes wild, before stalking up and slamming a hand against the wall. She flinched, shifting her eyes from the quivering curtain to his own, too close to her face as he glowered.

"Are. You. A. Witch." His voice held the hard edge of an interrogator, but his eyes… his eyes begged her to tell him no. She looked at the door where the Shade had been, knowing his gaze would follow.

"I am their witch," she admitted softly. This answer didn't seem to pacify him as much as it did her.

"But can you do—where's your Talea Magica?" She shook her head wordlessly. "Where."

"I don't have it."

"Where did you put it?"

"I… I never had one," she said honestly, her back beginning to ache as she pressed harder against the wall. He hesitated, stormy eyes watching her carefully.

"Can you do magic?" His hands tensed, fingers curling into the curtain. She knew what he was getting at. The only one who doesn't need a Talea Magica… the witch who can makes spells happen without the magical gems… technically, I am that witch. But—

"I am not Bezella," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Promise me." His lips trembled. "Promise me that you're not…" She kissed him properly this time, for once feeling like her reasoning was a good one.

"I'm not," she murmured against his lips. "I promise." He surged against her, pushing her further against the wall as he kissed her back. She smoothed her lips over the marks she'd made on his face, shivering as his hands found her waist and slid up to the golden chain, undoing the clasp and letting it fall between them with a sharp clank. "Zacharias…"

"Milady," he breathed back, working now on the ribbon that held her collar to her neck. She let him untie it, making a little sound when he drew it from her shoulders and let it fall to meet the chain as well.

"N-no, my name…" He didn't answer, his fingers pushing back the stiff collar, the remnants of her mask, and her hair until her neck was bared. He leaned down, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses against her rapid pulse.

"Hmm?" he finally grunted, worrying the sensitive skin with his teeth.

"I mean…" she pushed his head back, grateful that he didn't try to fight. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath. "My name. My real name."

"Lady Dar—" She shook her head.

"No. It's… Eve. My name is Eve."

"Eve." She couldn't help the involuntary jerk when she heard it repeated back to her. "I like it. It suits you."

"D-does it?" She felt like she couldn't think straight, her mind awhirl as he resumed his work on her neck, hips pushing against hers in a blatant invitation. She shivered again, taking a selfish moment to feel his hair instead of trying to rip it out by the roots. I've got to stop this. "Zacharias… we can't. I can't." It hurt to hear those words spoken aloud, no matter how rational. "You can't… you've got to forget this."

"Eve." She gasped when his hand ran over her breast, resting atop her heart before running back down to palm the weight of it. She closed her eyes against the blush that spread over her cheeks, trying to reign in her urge to push him to the ground and let him do what he pleased. "Whatever you do… whatever you're about to do… don't."

"W-what—"

"I won't tell." His other hand slowly, slowly rose to cup her right breast, waiting for her to push him off. It occurred to her that she could shout and scream now, to call for help, and it would catch him off guard. But she couldn't, not when he was staring at her so sadly. "Eve, I—I want to—I've never felt like this for anyone else before. I want to protect you. Even if… even if." He looked at the room, at the tattered halves of her mask. "Please. Let me stay and help you. I'll make sure no one finds you out. I'll give you alibis if people begin to get suspicious." He rested his head in the crook of her neck. "I'll take care of you."

For a moment she held him, thinking about the offer he'd made. Could he? Could he become a helpmate, an extra set of hands making sure this utopian society the Storyteller dreamed for his pet town stayed a reality? Were her days of loneliness over? Could she really be allowed a shoulder to rest her head on at the end of the day, a ear to listen to her troubles, a warm, calloused set of hands to shower her with affection when she was in need of it?

Foolish little Shade, little witch, thinking that it would be so easy.

"Zacharias." He lifted his head and she cupped his jaw, thumb running over the faint welt still left behind by her nails. She kissed him, again and again, soaking up everything he could offer for a time when he wouldn't be around. "You're going to forget all of this."

"W-what?" She looked into his eyes, at the unhidden desire burning there, desire not only for her body, but for her love, for her assertion that he could be her bodyguard, her helper, her lover. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"This is all a dream: a crazy, wild, amazingly detailed dream. None of it is true." She breathed in the air, the air heady with the scent of ink, wet ink. Susceptible ink. Ink she was immune to. But not him. "You're going to wake up in your own bed, and you won't even remember my name. It'll be as if you never set foot in these woods. None of this exists." True, the ink worked better with general statements. But a dream was a dream, right? And it was already working, he was nodding along even as his brow crinkled in apparent confusion.

"Eve?"

"Shh…" She kissed him again, one final time, her free hand searching for the cold silver she knew was in the pocket of her skirt lining. "Shh…. Just go to sleep." The tinkling sounded as terrible as a death knell, his lips sliding from hers as he slumped down on her in a dead faint. She clutched him to her, even as she fell to the ground, burying her face in his chest and letting her hot tears stain the Shade cloak while she muffled her cries. She stopped as quickly as she could, losing no time before unlocking the door and calling for her servants.

"Venerable Mistress! I'm so glad—what's the matter?"

"Take this man to the barracks and make sure he's in bed. Don't forget to take the cloak from him."

"Y-yes, Milady, only—" She waved a hand impatiently, trying to wipe her eyes as discreetly as possible.

"I've already dealt with his memories. Just make sure he wakes up in his own bed."

"Yes, milady."

"What happened to you?" Her breath caught in her throat, but she hoped she managed an even stare all the same. Barnham scratched sheepishly at a bruise on his arm.

"I think I got into a fight last night, but I must have been…" he trailed off, holding his head.

"I told you that tavern was no good," she remarked wryly, bending to her work.

"'Tis… ah, well." He yawned. "It didn't help that I had a strange dream."

"Oh?" He blushed, looking pointedly away from her.

"A-aye…erm—Milady, it occurred to me this morning that I don't know your first name."

"Why would you need to?" She eyed him sharply. "I don't need my subordinates getting too friendly with me, and I know you can't keep a secret to save your life."

"Urk! N-never mind!" He hurriedly disappeared behind his mountains of paper with another yawn. "Only… Eve?"

"W-what!?" Her hand froze mid-sentence.

"Did I guess it?" He crowed happily. "It was Eve, wasn't it? I must be physic!"

"Or bewitched!" The smile slipped from his face. "You tell anyone else and I'll personally see to it that you get a new office in the coldest dungeon cell."

"Y-yes, Lady Darklaw! I mean no!" She glared at him until he vanished once again, one hand reaching for his dumbbell as he began to write reports.

At least you have him this way. It was a small consolation, for what might have been had she been brave enough to allow it. But no matter. She went back to her own papers, letting the comfortable silence between them grow.

The Great Witch was far too busy for a paramour.

#plvsaa #plvspw #professor layton vs. phoenix wright ace attorney #professor layton vs ace attorney #barnlaw #Zacharias Barnham #Eve Belduke #Darklaw #oneshot #romance #angst #my writing

5 notes · View notes

mayra-quijotescx · 1 year ago

Text

So partner is back in town for a brief "rest" period before venturing up to Boston for grad school, and we're trying to make the most of the time we can have before then, so we watched a couple of operas at random on Youtube, and

there are probably wilder double-features out there than Strauss' Salome and Brecht/Eisler's The Decision, but man, I shudder to imagine.

In a word: woof.

In several words:

ok, so Salome. Let me just get this out here: I am not a fan of Strauss. I regard him as a coward and a sellout who coincidentally also made some enduring and beloved art before, during, and after accepting a cultural ministry position with the literal Nazis in 1933 and then keeping it until the Nazis decided they didn't like him anymore a couple of years later. He did at least manage to keep his Jewish daughter-in-law safe from the aims of his bosses during this time, and he did eventually denounce the Nazis... in 1948. I wouldn't advocate his work be committed to oblivion, but I think that with consideration to the limitations of performance season ranges, other less-renowned works deserve to be considered before his.

We watched Salome because my partner was curious after seeing it on HGO's current season roster (which is the worst mixed bag I've seen from them yet.) If you really want to watch it, I'm not linking the production we watched, and I will actively recommend against the 1975 televised version that's the first result on Youtube, both due to the blatant racist casting of everyone but the servants as white and all the servants as Black, and due to the recording waving around like it was projected onto a sheet that kept getting hit by an oscillating fan. No matter what version you end up with, though, expect to see Salome sexually harassing John the Baptist for 20 minutes, her stepfather Herod sexually harassing her for 20 minutes after, and the Dance of the Seven Veils, which has nothing to do with the original story nor with the culture in which the story takes place but was invented out of whole cloth (no pun intended) for the play on which the opera is based (God dammit, Wilde.)

Even without factoring in the Orientalism (without which not much is left), it is very much an hour and forty minute long production spun out of three lines from one of the Gospels, and it drags on like it.

And then we watched the Operavision performance of Brecht and Eisler's The Decision, which was more like being beaten with a stack of ML pamphlets for an hour than watching a performance. Partial credit for the criticism the chorus offered at the end to the comrades who killed one of their own after said comrade blew their cover and made their continued presence in the town they were parachute-organizing in fully impossible, but I am entirely too much of an anarchist to appreciate a performance that somehow combined the obnoxious didacticism of the worst Robert's Rules-governed meeting you ever somehow didn't walk out of with a level of janky choreography that would have left the producers of RENT seething with envy. The staging was dynamic! The costumes were great! The play itself is the non-pandemic reason why I stopped going to DSA meetings.

#it's 90% hating so I'm not tagging it as operaposting

1 note · View note

oscillatingmadness · 1 year ago

Text

This ties deeply into indigenous oppression as well. One of the first peoples targeted (in the US/Canada) by for foraging/trespassing law and eliminating "weeds" was indigenous peoples.

It's well documented that there was no trespassing or law against foraging in early US history. It's even documented that the founding fathers thought foraging, and the land's bounty, was a god given right as it kept many alive in the early colonial days.

Once the US government was well established, 100 years later, and expanding west rapidly, trespassing and foraging became outlawed for two reasons.

One was so that towns near indian settlements could have a reason to shoot and harass them. Townships claimed a large excess of food growing forest around them, forest that natives had cultivated for generations as a primary food source, and then forced them natives as they were "trespassing." Not even getting into that native NA agriculture is food forests....

Second, was after the civil war, plantation owners still needed workers. One of the surefire ways to get them was to criminalize any way to live off the land, and make the only available work for black folks, plantation work.

From what I've seen, the criminalization of foraging is far more extreme in the south, lesser in the west, and least in the north east.

But it all ties into classism, racism, and forcing the poor people of the country to benefit the wealthly. Here's a pretty decent article to kickoff all these ideas.

What i've been learning thru my research is that Lawn Culture and laws against "weeds" in America are deeply connected to anxieties about "undesirable" people.

I read this essay called "Controlling the Weed Nuisance in Turn-of-the-century American Cities" by Zachary J. S. Falck and it discusses how the late 1800's and early 1900's created ideal habitats for weeds with urban expansion, railroads, the colonization of more territory, and the like.

Around this time, laws requiring the destruction of "weeds" were passed in many American cities. These weedy plants were viewed as "filth" and literally disease-causing—in the 1880's in St. Louis, a newspaper reported that weeds infected school children with typhoid, diphtheria, and scarlet fever.

Weeds were also seen as "conducive to immorality" by promoting the presence of "tramps and idlers." People thought wild growing plants would "shelter" threatening criminals. Weeds were heavily associated with poverty and immortality. Panic about them spiked strongly after malaria and typhoid outbreaks.

To make things even wilder, one of the main weeds the legal turmoil and public anxiety centered upon was actually the sunflower. Milkweed was also a major "undesirable" weed and a major target of laws mandating the destruction of weeds.

The major explosion in weed-control law being put forth and enforced happened around 1905-1910. And I formed a hypothesis—I had this abrupt remembrance of something I studied in a history class in college. I thought to myself, I bet this coincides with a major wave of immigration to the USA.

Bingo. 1907 was the peak of European immigration. We must keep in mind that these people were not "white" in the exact way that is recognized today. From what I remember from my history classes, Eastern European people were very much feared as criminals and potential communists. Wikipedia elaborates that the Immigration Act of 1924 was meant to restrict Jewish, Slavic, and Italian people from entering the country, and that the major wave of immigration among them began in the 1890s. Almost perfectly coinciding with the "weed nuisance" panic. (The Immigration Act of 1917 also banned intellectually disabled people, gay people, anarchists, and people from Asia apart from the Chinese...which were already banned since 1880.)

From this evidence, I would guess that our aesthetics and views about "weeds" emerged from the convergence of two things:

First, we were obliterating native ecosystems by colonizing them and violently displacing their caretakers, then running roughshod over them with poorly informed agricultural and horticultural techniques, as well as constructing lots of cities and railroads, creating the ideal circumstances for weeds.

Second, lots of immigrants were entering the country, and xenophobia and racism lent itself to fears of "criminals" "tramps" and other "undesirable" people, leading to a desire to forcefully impose order and push out the "Other." I am not inventing a connection—undesirable people and undesirable weeds were frequently compared in these times.

And this was at the very beginnings of the eugenics movement, wherein supposedly "inferior" and poor or racialized people were described in a manner much the same as "weeds," particularly supposedly "breeding" much faster than other people.

There is another connection that the essay doesn't bring up, but that is very clear to me. Weeds are in fact plants of the poor and of immigrants, because they are often medicinal and food plants for people on the margins, hanging out around human habitation like semi-domesticated cats around granaries in the ancient Near East.

My Appalachian ancestors ate pokeweed, Phytolacca americana. The plant is toxic, but poor people in the South would gather the plant's young leaves and boil them three times to get the poison out, then eat them as "poke salad." Pokeweed is a weed that grows readily on roadsides and in vacant lots.

In some parts of the world, it is grown as an ornamental plant for its huge, tropical-looking leaves and magenta stems. But my mom hates the stuff. "Cut that down," she says, "it makes us look like rednecks."

#racism #classism #indigenous #history #foraging

9K notes · View notes

sanguinescorpios · 2 years ago

Text

Still Alive

dream x f!reader

PART TWO

summary | Just under 20 years ago, the world slipped from humanity’s grasp and fell into the lap of mutant creatures. While most humans hid from the variants, some, like reader, grew restless in the bases they grew up in and needed out. What will happen when reader realizes that she doesn’t stand a chance in the wild on her own, and can something deeper blossom from a survival-based alliance?

warnings | reader has a hand kink but is in denial, slight mention of sexual harassment

word count | 2.2k

Dream didn’t live alone, I came to realize.

After a few more hours of cutting through the jungle and making one-sided conversation, we finally reached our destination. Well, Dream’s destination, I guess. I was kept out of the loop on that front. He led me down a jagged stone pathway and into what looked like an oasis. Sweeping branches and rocky cliffs encased a small body of water, a clear blue waterfall rushing down against the umber slabs and into the pool. Fish glimmered under the light of the setting sun, which was cast down through the canopy of trees above us, and birdsongs could be heard from every direction. It was breathtaking.

Nestled tightly behind the fall was Dream’s camp. The rock had been broken down over time, leaving behind a surprisingly homey shelter that was shielded by the fast-moving water. He made me walk first, trailing behind me as I navigated the slippery rocks and holding a hand out to catch me if I fell. So he can be nice, noted. When I reached the entryway of his camp, I was surprised to see two men staring back at me through the glistening water.

Both stood at a similar height, the one on the left a bit lankier than his counterpart on the right. The man on the right had hair that shone almost red under the sun, looking as if at one time it had been cut close to his scalp but had since grown out and been cut jaggedly into layers. His gray eyes reflected a look of shy intensity into my own, an emotion that shot right through me. He furrowed his brows at the sight of me, his chest puffing up ever-so-slightly and his back straightening to his full height. A sharp pink mark adorned the space below his left eye and, from the looks of it, it was a scar that wouldn’t let him forget its cause.

The other man looked gentle. His deep brown eyes sparkled with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled up with ease. His hair was just as dark as his eyes, wavy strands were swooped across his forehead and some were tucked behind his ears -- almost long enough to be tied back. His skin was clear and pure of the battle scars that most people had these days. It was the skin of someone who hadn’t worked a day in his life, but something told me it wasn’t for nothing -- he brought more to the table than any level of brawn could, I assumed. He addressed me first, his voice relaxed and cheery.

“You come here often?”

The stone-faced one rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest at the phrase, but his friend continued to giggle at himself. A smile pulled at my lips and I opened my mouth to respond, but Dream beat me to it.

“Picked up a stray,” he informed, jabbing a finger in my direction before moving past me and towards the fire.

I watched as he knelt down before the flame and removed his gloves, the tendons in his hands pulling against the skin and thick veins bulging all over. The light of the fire made his hands look like abstract art; cuts and scars littered his skin like a sort of splatter paint, like someone trying to recreate the stars in the sky. He rubbed them together and blew air against closed fists, letting the tips of his fingers hover over the fire to warm up. My eyes glazed over at the scene, the flickering flame blurring in the corner of my vision as he materialized into the only clear object in my line of sight. Hands like that could do plenty of things besides wield a weapon, though I didn’t mind a blade or two either. Wait, what the fuck? I tore my gaze away from him before I got lost in his galaxy of a palm, just in time to see his two friends looking between us in confusion. They stared for what felt like an eternity before the lankier one stepped forward.

“Well, since Dreamy here won’t introduce us: I’m George.”

I took his outstretched hand and gave him my name, matching his small smile with one of my own. His grip was warm and comforting. The handshake was a welcoming gesture rather than a cold formality, which is how I usually interpreted interactions like it. Before George, I had only shaken the hands of guards and soldiers. Authoritative hands lingering seconds too long and mature eyes wavering below my own, my juvenile body unsteady in my oversized and borrowed shoes. I shivered at the mere thought of them. Never again. The other man stayed back, his expression still unwaveringly stoic.

“That’s Sapnap,” George explained, unsatisfied with his friend’s hesitation, “he’s not usually this antisocial - well, actually he is.”

“Hey!” Sapnap called out, whacking George on the arm and reaching around him to shake my hand firmly, “Call me Sap.”

“Another interesting name,” I remarked, glancing at Dream for a split second before returning my gaze to Sapnap. What is it with these guys and weird fucking names? Sapnap shrugged, childish pride glazing over his eyes.

“I’m an interesting guy.”

This elicited a snort from across the room, Dream’s head shaking slightly as he met each of our eyes. Sapnap questioned him, wondering what was so funny, but the blond just laughed and carried on unloading his pack.

“I’m the cooler one, by the way.” George butted in, a cheeky smile covering his face as he patted Sapnap on the shoulder.

“What the fuck, dude?” Sapnap’s head whipped to the side to glare at his friend. The look in his eyes was that of someone who had just been slapped. George only cackled, stepping away from him and seeking out Dream for protection, who raised his hands in impartiality. They reminded me of the young boys from the city, always running around the perimeter of the walls laughing and play-fighting. Childish, carefree, happy.

I longed for that kind of freedom.

The men were still arguing when Dream called me over to him and shoved a warm bowl into my hands. He waved his hand through the steam to cool it off for me before giving me a blanket. It was tattered and so faded I couldn’t tell what color it had originally been, but it was warm. Giving me a once over and checking my eyes for any sign of discomfort, he stood up from his seat by the fire so I could overtake it.

“Eat.” He pointed at the bowl and I nodded.

I was so hungry I would probably eat anything, so I chowed down immediately. Food was a luxury these days.

The sun had just about set, our long trek from my makeshift camp had taken up most of the sunlight hours, and the men were settling into their places to sleep.

Three cots. Just three.

I nestled myself against a cavity in the wall, the fire and blanket keeping me warm enough. As I adjusted my sleeping position for the long night ahead, Dream appeared in front of me.

“You’re taking my bed.”

“I’m fine here, really,” I insisted, “I’m already taking up enough space just being here.”

He simply shook his head and pointed at the cozy cot by the fire. It was big and covered in an assortment of blankets. Dream slept like a king, they all did in comparison to city folk. Surely it was big enough for two, right? I thought back to the moment by the fire, Dream’s nimble hands under the golden light and the trance they put me in. As weary as the thought of sharing a bed with an attractive stranger made me, I wasn’t in the mood to inconvenience the giant masked man with an array of weapons at his hip.

“We can share,” I offered. Sapnap snorted and George shushed him not a second later, but my gaze stayed trained on Dream’s stern-looking mask. He contemplated the idea for at least a minute, tugging at a rogue curl by the nape of his neck and shifting his weight back and forth between his two legs. Eventually, he gave in.

“Fine, but only until we can get you your own shit.”

I ignored the insinuation that I had a more-than-temporary place here and instead allowed the thoughts of doubt to infiltrate my mind. He’s a stranger - he could kill me in my sleep! Does he take his mask off when he sleeps? Am I allowed to look? Should we form some sort of pillow wall?

Any and all concerns I had were squashed when Dream settled into the far left side of the huge cot, leaving me plenty of room to keep my distance. I waited until he finished getting comfortable and laid down myself, getting situated and relaxing with a hmph.

“Goodnight everyone!” George called out.

“Nighty night, don’t let the variants bite!” Sapnap replied. He was joking, but it sent a chill down my arms just the same.

Variants were a very real threat and based on Dream’s reaction to me sleeping out in the open last night, there was no shortage of them in this forest. Between the lingering threat of an attack and the complete strangers I had chosen as my comrades, I knew I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.

I felt a hand rest on my hip before swiftly moving up to my arm. Oops. One slight squeeze let me know I was still shivering from the fear of Sapnap’s comment, and I relaxed my body at the touch. You’re safe, the touch insisted, and I attempted to convince myself of that, too. Maybe this Dream guy wasn’t so steely after all, I never would’ve expected this from him.

Removing his hand from my arm, Dream leaned over and blew out the small fire near our - his - cot, leaving just the larger one near the others beds lit. The world around me became much dimmer and as I closed my eyes, I heard the rustling of Dream’s body shifting and the small knocking of wood on slate.

His mask, I realized. The temptation to sneak a peek at his exposed face pulled at my conscience, but I squeezed my eyes closed tighter and turned the other way. Not tonight.

I tossed and turned all night, adjusting my position, counting sheep, imagining myself in my bed at the base - imagining myself safe - but nothing did the trick. It must have been the early hours of the morning when I gave up on sleep and rose from the cot. I rubbed the tiredness from my eyes and once I opened them, I was met with an empty side of the bed. Confused, I snapped my head in every direction and my gaze landed on a far rock hanging over the edge of the cliff we were all sleeping on.

There, sat Dream. Legs dangling off the edge of his makeshift seat, blond hair free from the confines of his mask and laying shaggy around his head. I couldn’t see his face from where I sat, the running water and dark morning obscuring my view, but I could tell he was deep in thought.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Dream jumped in his seated position, one hand holding himself steady and the other reaching for the dagger at his hip. I threw up my hands in surrender, even though he hadn’t turned around to see me, and stepped back from him.

“Easy tiger, it’s just me.”

He huffed and reached for his mask, placing the monstrosity back on his face before turning to meet my eye.

“Thought I’d make myself useful and keep watch,” he began, patting the space next to him as if inviting me to sit, “it’s Spring now. Variant season.”

I accepted his invitation and cautiously sat beside him. Having to grab his muscled arm to steady myself on the way down was only a tiny bit embarrassing. The sun had barely begun to rise, the moon still high in the sky and shining down on the two of us. A crescent, I recognized. Another thing Zoe had taught me.

“Do you always keep watch this time of year?” I asked between yawns, the lack of sleep finally getting to me. Dream nodded. We sat in silence for a moment before I spoke again, this time with an ounce of sleepy confidence.

“You can’t be much help to them during the day if you’re sleep deprived though, right?”

I chewed my lip and held my breath as he huffed again, what was I thinking? He muttered something under his breath about responsibility causing regret to fill my senses. Who am I to question this stranger’s workload? I don’t know him.

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he replied.

“Fair enough,” I said. Pushing it any further wasn’t a great idea, it’s none of my business.

Another yawn escaped my lips and I let my head fall to Dream’s shoulder. The lack of sleep had made me more trusting, apparently. His arm stiffened at the touch, his whole body going rigid as the weight of my body rested on him, but he eventually loosened up. The world began to dim again as the faint scent of firewood and spice filled my nose.

Goodnight, Dream.

#dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken fanfic #mcyt writing

41 notes · View notes

sorryimanon · 4 years ago

Text

Pairings: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Tags: 18+, dirty talk, explicit scenes, mutual masturbation, penetration, bakugou being a switch, reader is a dom, lots of back and forth between characters, slow burn

A/N: this was supposed to be divided into two parts but surprise, surprise! i got lazy :) i had so much writing this. this might be my favorite fic ive written so far! this is a loooong one. enjoy!

P.S this is the unedited ver. I will posting the final on my AO3 account (sorryimanon)

Katsuki disliked her. No, he absolutely loathed her. Ever since she stepped foot into the classroom, it was destined for there to be a hostile barrier between the two of them. Granted, all she did was sweetly greet him like the rest of her fellow classmates, but Katsuki completely saw through her fading facade and ignored the kind gesture with a threatening showcase of his quirk.

"Being nice won't get you anywhere, baka," he snarled, glaring intensely at her all the while everyone watched the whole scene unfold.

He treated her like a foolish peasant after that initial encounter, disregarding her in any way shape or form as disgust shone through his eyes.

Y/N persevered the oncoming school years despite the blonde breathing down her neck consistently everyday. Katsuki's aggressive nature towards her subsided once graduation commenced, alluding to the blossoming maturity each student should have endured before branching off into hero work.

Not long after the celebratory succession, y/n bounced to several agencies that offered the same beneficial agreements for her. None caught her attention. Until one day she received a recommendation from Endeavor himself to work full time at his agency. Of course she accepted it and immediately wrote her sloppy signature down on the contract. Unbeknownst to her excitement, a separate copy of the contract was sent to another uprising hero around her age group.

So when she strutted in that morning of orientation, she never expected to see the very infamous Katsuki Bakugou slouched on one of the many chairs in the meeting room. Her throat tightened as she took a seat next to him, his height still freakishly tall even when they were just sitting. Staring straight forward to prevent from any means of eye contact with him, he lowered his head at her eye level and crooked a half smile.

"I'm gonna make you regret for even considering joining here, extra." A fleck of his spit hit the side of her face. Learning from her past encounters with Katsuki, y/n held her tongue in hopes for him to feel satisfied enough to leave her alone.

Thankfully their office hours were inconsistent to where they didn't intervene with each other, neither of them awkwardly meeting in the lobby or an elevator. However, sometimes y/n and Bakugou would desire the same craving for a caffeinated beverage and find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder by the coffee machine.

Bakugou likes his coffee black, she mentally jotted down as she intently watched his usual routine of preparing the beverage.

Like the asshole he is, Bakugou would purposely tip the mug and let a few trickles of the hot liquid burn her hand. He's done this every single time before he leaves y/n alone in the break room. Deep down, he relishes in the strained expression on her face when he inflicts the pain upon her. Thoughts danced across his head. Some involving him blasting y/n into the stratosphere to her kissing the tips of his boots for mercy. Either way, her being so submissive and, dare he say, a pussy to stand her ground sufficed him enough for the time being. But sometimes it pissed him off.

The constant harassment by the angry blonde went unnoticed by their other colleagues, including Endeavor, leaving y/n to prepare every morning to face the wrath of Katsuki Bakugou. His verbal abuse never wavered, occasionally whispering under his breath "weakling" or "stupid girl" whenever the pair were in the same room together. One time he sent her on a wild goose chase to find a missing case file that miraculously disappeared from her desk while she was copying something in the other room. Hours later, she soon discovers the said file tucked behind Katsuki's arm, snatching it from his grip and not once reprimanding him for wasting her time. Y/N eventually got used to it. Adapting to the annual insults of her work ethics and anything he could muster up from his sleeve. Both finally accepted their twisted dynamic, and became accustomed to the work lifestyle.

Months later, the dynamic soon changed when Endeavor announced an emergency meeting with everyone in the building. Apparently a new wave of villains have been reigning terror over the city, causing major damages and fatalities in a matter of weeks. Rumors started to circulate that the new generation of heroes don't have the capabilities to apprehend this group of evil doers. In the meeting, Endeavor made it clear for everyone to be partnered up before he dismisses them to patrol for the night, suggesting that pairing up with someone who is complimentary to your quirk is efficient for when dealing with these kinds of villains.

That's why y/n didn't voice her complaint when she inevitably got matched with Bakugou. His quirk alone was powerful already. With both of their quirks combined, there's no telling how the mission will go, but she surprisingly feels safe knowing he'll be sticking by her side throughout the rest of the night. It'll be a quick mission, then they'll return back to their previous mundane duties in the office. Back to Katsuki's mental and verbal torment.

"Could you move any slower?" Katsuki barked as both he and y/n were taking a quick stroll through the public park, scoping out for any signs of danger.

She was a step behind him, careful not to bump his shoulder or invade his space. She mumbled out a quick apology and fastened her pace, catching up to the man in gear. Tonight he wore his alternative hero costume, the design made specifically for when the temperature reaches an undesirable degree. The collar touched below the tip of his chin, his chiseled chest covered with the thick black material, and his arms protected from the cold with the addition of sleeves.

"Fucking weakling..." she heard him mumble once they circled the perimeter again.

Bakugou insisted for them to scout out as many places as possible in hopes for an encounter. He desperately needs any excuse for some action, to use his quirk out of anger. Previously, they patrolled the empty plaza of Tatoone shopping center. Other heroes were there as well, but still no signs of any villains lurking in the dark. For the third time, they met up at the center of the park after making another round, both already tired of the tedious task.

"Just our fucking luck. Still no signs of those stupid villains. I guess we should patrol the outskirts of-."

A bright luminescent beam struck the middle of Bakugou's chest cavity, ricocheting him backwards to slam against the trunk of a large tree, knocking him unconscious instantly. Startled, y/n's eyes frantically searched for the perpetrator, only to meet a pair of glowing green orbs staring right back. She shifted her stance in preparation for their next attack, blocking Bakugou's lifeless body from the villains view. Another beam shot from the darkness, only this time y/n counter balanced the blow by rolling to side, the blast missing her by a couple of feet. Y/N quickly raised to her feet and ran head first towards the dark figure. Without preamble, the figure shot multiple beams at the hero, each one emitting from the void of their chest.

Y/N dodged the bright suffocating strips of light, her feet shuffling and heart racing due to the adrenaline rush. However, she miscalculated her next move which allowed the figure to strike her left shoulder when she was distracted for a split second. Pain shot throughout her shoulder blade. Eyes drawn to a close, her hand shot up to cradle the injury. The intense sensation started to spread from the upper half of her body to below. Everything suddenly became numb, including her sensors. She couldn't feel the tips of her digits nor move any part of her face. The muscles in her legs soon stopped contracting, resulting in her knees giving out. She felt the hard, coarse ground beneath her as the darkness began to swallow up her line of vision. The last thing she saw was a scuffed up Bakugou laying face flat on the drenched grass.

- Y/N stirred awake, lifting one of her half lidded eyes expecting to see the villain looming over her tired body. But all she saw was the popcorn ceiling sheltering her, an overhead fan turned on and the curtains tightly shut. She slowly inclined her body upright and peeled the covers from her clammy figure. Still in the process of waking up, she made her way to the attached bathroom by the bed and located the sink. She splashed the cold water on her face, letting the droplets drench the clothes she was currently wearing. Turning off the facet, she craned her head to view the damage on her shoulder in the mirror. But how come she couldn't recognize herself?

Tuffs of blonde spiked out from her head. Her eyes weren't the same color either. Red crimson irises replaced the ones she had before. The injury from last night on her shoulder wasn't there no more, but she took sight at how broad they became. And she wasn't wearing her typical pajama top and bottoms. This morning she was clad in a black tank top and a pair of soft sweat pants.

No, this can't be true. This has to be some sick nightmare. Jolting backwards on her heel, she let out a terrible shriek. After screaming for a good minute, she calmed down and rested her hands on the bathroom counter, transfixed on the reflection in front of her.

"I-I somehow transformed into Bakugou!" The deep timbre voice of bakugou replaced her own. She tugged on the unkept hair and knitted her eyes shut. "This is only a dream. I'm dreaming right? I can't possibly be in Bakugou's body."

A loud ringing noise alerted y/n to open her eyes again. It was coming from her bedroom. Correction, his bedroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror one more time before retrieving the phone that was stuffed in a green duffel bag. Her eyes widened. She recognized her phone number on the screen. Knowing the circumstances, she pressed answered and awaited for the receiver on the other end to speak.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!"

"So, we somehow switched bodies because of being struck by that villains quirk the other night. How long did they say this will last then?" Y/N questioned Bakugou the following morning once they agreed to meet up somewhere in private. Right now they were sitting across from each other on a stone bench by the lake, the morning sun peaking through the tall skyscrapers behind them.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders, technically hers, and said, "Endeavor informed me it'll probably linger for a good week. He also wanted us to not be on duty till we recuperate from this, saying that the side effects will drain our bodies." He couldn't muster up the courage to stare at her, because all he would see is the reflection of himself. "Unfortunately the villain fled the scene before the others arrived to retrieve us. They're still out there causing havoc."

"This is freaking weird."

"Fucking."

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. Across from her, Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration.

"If you're gonna be me for a whole week then you might as well not sugar coat my vocabulary-dumbass."

Right, she now has to devote her time and effort into mirroring Bakugou's explosive personality. But that also means he too has to put on a show in order to persuade everyone he was her.

"Oh, okay..." she started but tensed up when realizing Bakugou was gazing expectantly at her. "D-Dumbass?"

Katsuki groaned as he rolled his eyes at her failed attempt of portraying him.

"This is going to be a long ass week."

- Bakugou grunted in disgust as he scavenged through y/n's closet for something to wear. Every piece of clothing so far hasn't met his criteria of approval to put on his body. There was an unnecessary amount of yoga pants and the most ugliest oversized graphic tees he's ever laid his eyes upon stored in her drawer. Growing up in a household of highly praised designers, the influence shifted his taste in fashion over the years. So, he made the rational decision to make a quick trip to the mall and purchase a few outfits for himself. Considering he's going to be in this body for a whole week, maybe even more, he might as well present himself looking ten times better than she ever has.

He tittered around the mall window shopping, entering store after store leaving with a handful of clothes in plastic and paper bags. So far he bought some outfits that edged a little on the fancy side, but paid no mind to his bank account. Bakugou guesstimated y/n's size during the venture, not wanting to pry or see what's underneath these restricting fabrics. He was about to leave when a frilly-pink themed store caught his attention.

It's a lingerie store, Bakugou thought as he neared closer to the entrance.

Posters inside the displays showcased attractive half naked women clad in nothing but the delicate material. Not to mention they were all posing seductively. An involuntary image of y/n flashed across his eyes, her imitating the same lustrous pose as well as wearing the sheer lingerie like the women behind the glass. Steams of heat practically blowed out from his ears, along with the embarrassing shade of pink panting his cheeks. He clamped a hand on his mouth, eyes widen in disbelief.

The fuck did I just imagine? There's no way in hell that just happened!

He must've been loitering there for awhile because a young girl, possibly his age, was standing in the threshold of the store wearing a pastel pink apron, giving him a welcoming smile.

She spoke, "Looking to shop for something, ma'am?"

Remembering back to y/n's distasteful clothing, he noted that she also lacked having any 'pretty' undergarments. It wasn't that he intentionally raided through her underwear, he just so happen to have stumbled upon the almost empty drawer by accident. In retrospect, he's doing her a favor. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes actually. Can you show me your most expensive set?" - "To your left! That dudes been camping by that spot since the match. He'll snipe you in the open!" Kirishima informed y/n as they both sat criss cross on the cushioned couch.

They've been playing the same game for hours. Y/N prayed for at least one water break or grab something quick to eat since they haven't moved an inch from their spots. Kirishima promised after this match he'll order some takeout for the both of them, but he said the same thing 8 matches ago. All she could do for now was pretend to be immersed in the game, getting a couple of impressive kills here and there, subsequently ranking her to a bronze level. Her digits were beginning to cramp up due to the repetitive moments of smashing down on the labeled buttons on the wireless controller. The screen across from them suddenly went dark and flashed the scoreboard from the recent match. Another successful victory.

"BOOYAAA!!!!" Kirishima clapped his hands and did a celebratory dance. "Ah, good game Bakugou."

Y/N flinched from hearing the blondes name.

"Kirishima, it's Y/N," she reluctantly reminded him.

Kirishima's whole demeanor went south. He chucked out a dry laugh and nervously started rubbing the back of his neck.

"R-Right sorry. Couldn't help myself. I mean, I am looking at Bakugou. Same face, voice, hair, and scary eyes."

After being battered by the villains quirk, Kirishima and Sun Eater were the ones to retrieve them before law enforcement shortly arrived once the perpetrator fled the scene. They were all under one strict oath to not mention this to the public, or else everyone’s image will tarnished and skew the potential of our future rankings.

"I know. I'm still trying to process this whole thing. I've been avoiding all the mirrors in the apartment since I came back." Y/N stood up from the couch and sauntered over to her designated bedroom for the week. She reached for the door handle but stiffened when a pair of hardened hands rested on her broad shoulders.

"Aye, don't worry so much. I bet you Bakugou is thinking the same thing. This week will be over before you know it," he absentmindedly began massaging the area between your shoulder blades and neck.

Does he always treat Bakugou like this despite that nasty little Pomeranian being a complete asshole to everyone?

"Kirishima?"

"Yeah?"

"What is Bakugou like around you?"

The red head hummed to himself at the random question, thinking of a perfect answer to her curiosity.

"The same how he was in high school except more tamer I guess. But I enjoy his presence none the less."

Then why does he seem to unleash his untamed feelings towards me specifically?

Y/N sighed, obviously not satisfied with that answer.

"Out of everybody, he seems to despise me more and more like it's a game," she said without realizing.

"You know how he is Y/N. He's very abrasive and blunt when it comes to other people's emotions, but deep down I know he only acts like that because he wants to present a strong image in front of everyone," he started. "He's scared of others looking down on him, I know that for sure. But I always looked up to Bakugou from the day I personally got to know him. So, I guess he just stayed by my side because of my admiration for him."

Bakugou is always putting up a front then.

"Interesting...well I'm gonna go to bed now. Thanks for keeping me company," y/n said once again reaching for the knob and opening the door, ignoring the red heads pleas for her not go to sleep on an empty stomach. -

The next day Bakugou found himself inside y/n's bathroom, feet firmly planted on the tiled floor not daring to move an inch. Even though he wasn't in his own body that didn't stop him from paying a visit to the gym this morning. He went extra hard on every machine, not caring about the wandering eyes men gave him while he dead lifted weights. Drenched in nothing but his own glistening sweat, Bakugou entered y/n's small apartment as he dragged his tired feet to the bedroom he was now familiarized with.

Something foul wafted into his nostrils, almost making him teary eyed to the stench. He tried to recall the last time he took a shower. Vaguely he remembers washing his body the morning before he got attack by the powerful quirk. It's been several days since then. This was one thing he didn't want to endure during his experience of switching bodies. He's been neglecting his own hygiene to avoid seeing y/n's exposed body parts. Changing out from her clothes with closed eyes was difficult enough, but taking a fucking shower?! Such a shitty predicament. But he can't smell like this for the remainder of being stuck in this body. He'll die of suffocation.

Ah fuck, that must mean she has to take a shower as well. Or worse, she already has and saw everything.

His eye twitched, lips trembling in fear at what he's about to witness.

Fuck it, I can't go out smelling like shit!

With shaky fingers he began stripping, eyes trained on anything but y/n's figure, the faint sound of the water streaming white noise to him. Her gym clothes piled on the floor, Katsuki slipped into the shower, head titled slightly to view only the shower head. He messed around with the chrome handle, indecisive on what temperature he wanted. Settled onto cold to awaken his sluggish state, he positioned himself under the shower head, goosebumps prickling his skin due to the sudden drop of temperature. Water droplets streamed down and canaled to his lower regions, the sensation relaxing his anxiousness just a smidge. He surveyed the options y/n had laid out for hair care products and grabbed the nearest one. Rubbing the body wash into the palms of his hands, he caught himself, arm mid raised getting ready to wash each crevice of his body.

Shit shit shit shit

The hand in front of him began shaking.

She won't know. It's not like I'm touching her sexually, I'm just keeping her clean for fucks sake!

As gentle as he could, Bakugou washed away the soapy residue, fingers cautiously ghosting over anything perking out. A moment too soon, he accidentally skimmed over her chest a little too fast, the tips of his fingers touching something that was hard and protruding. His breathing hitched.

I just felt her fucking nipple!

But fuck, it strangely felt quite pleasant. Pleasurable even if he had to admit.

He continued on with his previous ministrations, cupping her boobs like a madman and swiping one thumb over the taunt surface to test the waters. A fierce, tingling sensation surged shivers down his spine. An unsolicited low moan spurred out from the blonde.

"Hah!"

What the hell?! Why am I still touching her tits? And why am I enjoying it?

Finishing up his routine quickly, Bakugou snatched a towel from the cabinet and rubbed away all the sinful thoughts desperately from his head, a constant fight between his morals and neediness. Nobody will never know what he committed in the confines of her own apartment. And it'll fucking stay like that till on his death bed.

I practically assaulted her. I'm so fucking disgusting

For the rest of the remaining day, Bakugou planned on meeting up with Kirishima to hangout. He wanted to coerce the red head into talking about anything other than y/n. His mind needs the relief. He needs this spell to be over with.

He can't stand trying to fit into women's jeans any longer - Kirishima woke up that morning to a chorus of shrieks. Girlish shrieks, might he add. He thought maybe the neighbors were selfishly doing not-so-holy-things at the peak of dawn. But him and Katsuki were resided on the highest level of the penthouse, them being the only residents on the empty floor. It clicked once he heard his name through the thin walls.

"Ah! Y/N I'm coming!" He leaped from his bed and reached y/n's, technically Bakugou's, room in a matter of seconds.

Y/N's body twitched to the sound of the door being slammed open, the impact rattling the very few wall decorations in the blondes space. Standing in the threshold was the friendly red head, huffing and puffing air out of his chest like he just got done running a marathon.

"K-Kiri! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up!" Her words afterwards became a jumbled mess, realizing the predicament she pushed herself into.

"Hey, hey, calm down! Tell me what's wrong. It sounded like you were in pain. Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" The red had to remind himself this was indeed another person inside Bakugou's body, because Bakugou would never apologize repeatedly for the sake of apologizing in his entire life.

Y/N was looking quite pallid now, sheepishly tugging on the black covers of the bed, trying to find the easiest way on how to lay this out to her new roommate.

"Well...I just...I woke up to - ah crap."

Instead of explaining her situation, she pulled back the blanket to show kiri the thing protruding between her uncommonly, muscular legs. Kirishima's eyes widen instantaneously, eating up the pitched tent inside her basketball shorts. Oddly enough, this wasn't his first rodeo upon seeing the blonde with a boner. They were dudes. And dudes living together were bound to witness each other's 'flesh swords', he'd like to put it.

"Oh, morning wood? That's pretty normal. Nothing to fret y/n!" He dismissed her with the wave of his hand. "Bakugou gets them all the time! In fact, I remember he'd get them after sparring sessions back in our U.A days-."

"Okayyyyy, Never mind that! I know I have a boner. Just exactly how do I get rid of it?!"

"You mean, you don't know? Haven't you been taught this in Sex Ed class?" Kiri was actually curious as to why she doesn't know nor remember. He surly does. Learning about the human body by the infamous sultry teacher, Midnight, engraved so much information into his tiny-teenage brain.

"That was considered an extra curricular class. I took a CPR class instead."

"Right well, from what she taught us and from my own personal experience, you gotta rub one out."

Y/N's whole face contorted into a confused mess of disgust.

"Rub a what now?" She asked, although she had a feeling what the euphemism meant.

Kiri's face blotched red, the tint flushing to his chest as well. The man was evidently embarrassed about having this conversation with someone who wasn't Bakugou.

"I essentially mean you gotta masturbate. Ya know, in order to calm down your boner," he paused seeing how distraught y/n became. "It won't hurt I promise you! Don't worry, it feels really good! Like, eating ice cream good! Ah no that's not a good analogy!"

"This is so fucking horrifying..." Y/N poked at the thing, rightfully known as his dick, and kept starring as if it might miraculously subside to its original size.

Kiri coughed, grabbing her attention away from Bakugou's dick.

"He has lotion stashed in his drawer," he started, but malfunctioned seconds later. He revealed something private to someone that bakugou condemned as a 'weakling'. "That is if you need it for lubricant. It's kind of tough to jerk off dry..." his sentence fell off midway.

Y/N mumbled out an "Ok", and retrieved said lotion from the lower bunk of his drawers. She felt a pair of eyes on her. Kiri was still standing awkwardly by the doorway, unsure wether or not if that's his cue to leave.

"Um, thanks Kiri. You can leave now," she plopped back onto Bakugou's king sized bed.

This man sleeps alone. He doesn't need a ginormous bed all to himself.

"R-Right! Well, enjoy jerking off- ah no I meant - I didn't word that correctly! Ah geez, see ya later!" He sprinted out the door like his life depended on it.

Locking the door behind her, y/n forced herself into the attached bathroom, the lotion burning the palms of her hand each second. Once she settled down on the lid of the toilet, she shimmied out from his loose basketball shorts, letting them pool at her ankles.

If there's one thing she learned that morning, it was that being a man had its weird benefits. - "Slow down Bakugou! Let me at least catch up before you black out!" Kirishima was on his third shot while Bakugou just downed his sixth one for the night.

The blonde growled under his breath and tugged the red head by his collar to his mouth.

"Fucking idiot, don't call me that. It's y/n when we're out in public," he loosens his grip and snatches kiri's shot and tips his head back to drain it all down his throat, the burning sensation long gone.

"Ugh, my brain can't keep up with this whole switching body shit. It's been so hard back at the apartment." He internally cringes from the recollection of y/n popping her first boner this morning.

"What do you mean? Has that dumbass been giving you a hard time? If she has, I'll give her a piece of my mind."

"Not at all! She's been a saint while living with me. Which by the way, how come you can't just live at the penthouse while y/n stays at her place?

While Kirishima was talking, Bakugou ordered another round of shots. The bartender shoved a whole bottle of Fireball towards the man, saving him in the future to not ask anymore. The young server gave Bakugou a sly wink and returned back to serving other customers down the line. Cheeks flushed red, Bakugou thinks the man behind the bar was being too nice for his liking. He poured two more shots while keeping an eye on the average looking employee. If kirishima kept babbling, he might as well funnel the entire bottle in one sitting.

"I'm just following endeavors orders. We're not supposed to gain attention from those stupid reporters that camp outside our penthouse," he takes another swing of the warm liquid. "I'd rather fucking be quirkless than mistaken for having any rumored relations with her."

"Can I ask a genuine question? How come you hate y/n so much?"

"I don't hate her, I dislike her. There's a difference."

"I don't know man. Sometimes I mistaken your dislike with love."

"EXCUSE ME? IM NOT IN LOVE OF THAT BITCH?!"

"C'mon dude, I'm sensing a lot of denial from you. Also, shouldn't you be acting like her right now? She's very soft spoken if I'm not mistaken,"

"I'm not in denial idiot. I hate how soft she speaks. I hate how sickeningly kind she is even though nobody deserves it. I hate how she wastes her talented quirk and doesn't see the potential. She's a lost cause Kiri. She won't last for much longer in this field if she keeps this up."

"Wow, for someone who dislikes her as such, you surly sound like you care about heeeerrrrrr," kirshima drawled out in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up and finish your shot, shitty hair."

When the blonde was driving back to her apartment later that night, he slammed his fists against the steering wheel when an afterthought came to him.

His whole reasoning as to why he went out in the first place, and he can't seem to restrict himself from talking about the girl he's trapped in.

Even in this goddamn body I can't seem to steer clear from y/n talk! - Izuku had to do a double take when he entered the small coffee shop. Something about seeing the pensive blonde sitting patiently in a booth by the corner really made him feel like he was sucked into another dimension. Today y/n was wearing a white v-neck with a wool green cardigan and tight black jeans.

Kacchan owns cardigans? He thought, clearly amused.

Upon hearing the ding coming from the door, Y/N raised her head from her phone and waved Izuku over to her table. The poor man seemed like he was going combust right there. It's been awhile since he's spoken to his old classmate.

The green haired hero slid into the booth across from her and immediately started speaking Deku language.

"H-Hey Kacchan! Boy it's been awhile hasn't it? I was a little stunned seeing your message this morning asking to hangout. I'm sorry that I couldn't meet up sooner. I had an early patrol shift from 9 to 5. You might know how that feels, right?! Oh gosh I'm sounding like an adult. Can you believe we're adults-."

"Midor- I mean Deku, I called you up to ask about if you have any leads on the villain with the body switching quirk?" She cut him off.

"Oh yeah, that villain has been spotted a few times since the last attack. Of course most of my team hasn't been able to reprimand them. A few close calls though. But I heard two people from your sector got hit by the quirk! Are they doing okay?"

I hate lying to those big freaking green eyes.

"That's not true. They got hurt, but no one was attacked by their quirk. I just need to know if you have any information on the quirk in particular and what to do in order to reverse it."

Underneath the table, Izuku fumbled inside his pockets in search for his mini notebook. He still obtained the habit of jotting down everything, literally everything, in hopes the information will provide any source of aide. Izuku became all jittery and excited at the thought of sharing anything with Kacchan!

The small, crinkled notebook was slid across the table, hitting the tips of y/n's knuckles.

"Page 124, the first indent I wrote. It's mainly about my own conspiracy on what the villains quirk is. That was before their first debut of course. But now since we know it's a type of body switching quirk, I tried to pin point on what exactly lifts the quirks effect on the victim," Izuku explained casually while y/n skimmed through the notes and passages. "I did a little detective work on my own and contacted the people who were attacked by the villain. From what I gathered, let's just say- it's a bit taboo ."

This piqued her interest.

"What do you mean by, taboo?"

The man began to wave his hands around fervently in attempt to steer the blonde away from prying more. But y/n swatted Izuku's hand and continued reading the sloppy inscriptions.

Her eyes popped out from her sockets.

"I have to what?!" A few civilians stared in their direction, obviously gravitated to the familiar gruff voice.

"Calm down Kacchan! Why are you so angry for?"

Y/N rubbed her temple all the while wanting to slowly die than endure anymore of this.

"Nothing. Just- Ugh...Is it alright if I borrow this?"

"Y-Yeah! Kacchan can borrow anything from me as long as he returns it!" There was that gleam again in his eyes.

"Thanks Izuku, I owe you one!" She squeezed the greenettes freckled hand before leaving the booth and the shop all together.

Still in the cafe, Izuku sat frozen as if someone walked in with gun. Internally though, he was screaming. -

Y/N: Please call me. It's urgent

It was a Friday night when Bakugou received the cryptic message from her. He was in the middle of watching his true crime show when the annoying ding from his phone went off. For once, he just wanted to relax his mind and go on auto pilot without stressing his already strained body. It's the whole principle of Friday's. To fuck off and ignore everyone. What's so fucking important for her to text him out of the blue then?

Another acute ding.

Bakugou peeked over his shoulder to see who disrupted him this time.

Y/N: Bakugou, we need to talk. This isn't something to ignore.

He rolled his eyes and retrained his focus on the tv screen.

Ding Ding Ding

"FOR FUCK SAKE!" He released an animalistic growl from the depths of his throat, scratching his voice box even more. His fingers typed away aggressively, not bothering to read her previous messages.

BK: Leave me the fuck alone. You're to only text me if it involves with the reverse of this stupid quirk 🖕🏼

Three dots appeared immediately after he sent that. Bakugou started losing his patience while waiting for her response. He hated wasting precious time, especially if there was a second party involved. Her message finally delivered. Bakugou's eyes grew larger in size as he read the text.

Y/N: that's why I'm texting you idiot 🙄 I met up with Midoriya today and he may have given me the solution to our problem.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he typed out his last text message to her.

BK: fine. come over then. we can talk about it when you get here.

This time he didn't wait for her to respond back and began cleaning her apartment. - Feeling nervous was an understatement. Y/N felt like she was driving herself to her own execution. Bakugou being the one to carry out the death sentence. She didn't doubt the blonde would be elated at the idea of her being put under a torture device.

Okay, maybe he wasn't too malice to actually do it, but he probably entertained the thought.

Thankfully Bakugou's penthouse wasn't far from her own apartment, saving her much needed gas in case he goes ballistic on her.

The door flew open when she arrived shortly after one knock, revealing a very sluggish looking Y/N shooting daggers at her. Well, at least her body wasn't dressed in bruises or burn marks. That's a win. Bakugou paired herself with a cute crop top and silky pajama shorts. He's got taste she'll give him that.

Her apartment remained exactly the same as she left it when they both were ordered to switch residency's. Only a few traces of Bakugou were found. Mainly in the kitchen, where all his fancy cooking equipment and utensils were laid out. Unlike him, she ate out almost every night due to the red head being incompetent in the kitchen. He almost burnt down the complex last night. He relied upon his friend to do most of the cooking in their household.

The blonde briskly brushed passed her to sit on the couch, slinging his feet on the coffee table to make himself comfortable. Too comfortable, she noted.

"Well, spill it. What did the damn nerd tell you that could help us with this shit?" He inquired without preamble.

Like a hero, she was here on a mission. A mission that needs to be completed as soon as possible, even if the mission itself was ludicrous. She reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve the mini book, and flipped soundlessly to the page Izuku marked for her.

"On here it says that the quirk can last up to a week, maybe even more, depending on the victim(s). The effected will experience dry eyes, nausea, insomnia, painful migraines, and uncontrollable shaking due to being inside another persons body. They must let the quirk take its course then," she read out loud, ignoring Bakugou's groans of annoyance. "But, for rare cases, there have been reports of one's libido being greatly impacted. The victim will be in constant, insurmountable pain unless they relief themselves, then the two bodies will return back to normal."

To her surprise, Bakugou didn't show an ounce of indignation after hearing this piece of information. He seemed almost indifferent.

And there's no denying the truth. Both of their hormones have been off the rails. Ever since the incident in the shower, Bakugou has caught himself numerous times touching Y/N's boobs. Coping a sly feel as he cooked, cleaned, and even while he scrolled through his social media. Sometimes her ass as well to see if it felt good in his hands. Y/N was no saint either. Sporting boners every hour for no particular reason. All the blood rushing to her lower region became unbearable when she didn't take care of it. Kirishima kept reassuring her that it's natural for a man to get them a lot. But how much was too much?

He threw his hands up in the air and scoffs. "That's it? I just gotta jack off and then we're free from this curse?"

This is the part she dreaded the most. An uncomfortable heat flash roused up her face, a deep shade of red inching across her cheeks and nose.

"No. That's not what it means. We basically have to...ya know...," she paused mid sentence, too bashful to finish, desperately wanting Bakugou to put two and two together.

She shrunk in her position as the blonde narrowed his eyes at her.

"We have to fuck each other?" He profoundly acclaimed.

"Don't put it like that! But yeah, technically, we have to...help relief each other in order to switch back."

"If you wanted to jump my bones so bad you could've just asked." He leans back against the couch, arm draped lazily over the shoulder of the furniture, along with a playful smirk tugging up on the corners of his mouth. Y/N's blood ran cold when she felt the tiniest twitch down below. Her borrowed reproductive organ is betraying her!

"Do you want to be in constant pain till this all wears off? Or do you want to get this over with and never talk to each other again?" Y/N shuffled more towards the abrasive man, a strong tidal wave of anger rising within her.

"It won't matter because you always wound up in my presence anyway. Like a fucking pest that won't leave me alone." Without realizing it, Bakugou got up from his spot on the couch and marched over to Y/N, who at the moment looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel.

Another thing he hated about switching bodies was the fact that everyone towered over him, despite him being on his tippy toes. The woman in front of him acclimated his height, giving her the upperhand if they were to battle it out right now. If anything he could kick her shins at best.

"Whatever...I'm leaving," was all she said before storming off to the front door, grabbing her things along with her as she grew farther from him.

Katsuki's legs were moving on their own. His hand reached out and grabbed Y/N's forearm, halting her movements altogether. She's clearly enraged, thrashing her body back and forth to loosen his grip on her. He eventually grew tired of her stubborness and secured his grip on both of her arms, trapping her between the door and his body, producing a loud 'thump!'. Although he was in her body, he still carried his strength. In a matter of seconds, both Y/N and Bakugou were chest to chest now, their centers tapping aganist each other. She averted her gaze to the floor, as if their shoes were more interesting than this whole shitshow of a dilema. Bakugou squeezed her shoudlers, a little too much for her liking, to gain her attention again.

"I didn't say no, did I?" he asked hotly, his warm breath hitting her collarbones. An ice cold shiver ran down her spine, causing her breathing to hitch. Bakugou noticed her sudden stiffness and began rubbing gentle circles into the tender flesh of her skin. "Hoho, someone's excited aren't they?"

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows and backed up further into the wooden door. But her question was soon to be answered as she followed Bakugou's hungry gaze to the prominent bludge taunting from her pants. Betrayed once again by her unstable horniness!

"Guess I'm not the only one," she accuses once spotting the definite wet stain around Bakugou's crotch. He smirked at that.

"Take care of it then," his voice oozed of seduction and want, rewarding him another twitch in your tight pants. The libido was taking full effect now, any animosity they had before was thrown out the window. Past arguments also long forgotten. Their main priority at the moment was to experience the sweet relief of coming undone.

Y/N darted her hand down to the spot Bakugou needed attention from, and cupped his crotch with her abnormally large hand. Bakugou lets out a shaky exhale as her fingers danced around the sensitive area. One of her fingers moved instinctively, feeling how drenched he was in his panties, and rubbed the underside to get a better feel of the sex.

"You're so wet Bakugou," Y/N mused softly. She leaned forward, searching into Bakugou's eyes for any signs of him wanting this to end. But the pool of his irises were blown out, no tint of your original color in them anymore. "Do you want more?"

He nodded quickly, his hair bobbing up and down. Y/N chuckled and removed her hand from its previous position to the hem of Bakugou's shorts, teasingly toying the waistband. She slipped smoothly into his shorts, tickling him in the process, and toyed with the corners of his panties before moving them aside so she could have access to the thing she's been craving to touch. Wetness lathered up her fingers with just one swipe, causing Bakugou to purse his lips and shut his eyes tightly.

"Is Bakugou embarrassed? Are you mad that I have the upper hand now? After all those years of verbally tormenting me, you can't handle my simple touch?" She whispered dangerously close into his ear. During this, she couldn't tell if he was pissed or turned on. Maybe a mixture of both, but she took pride in his strained expression.

"W-Watch your goddamn mouth. Or do I need to shut you up myself, eh?" By shutting her up, he meant mirroring her exact ministrations. The petite hand of Bakugou's latched onto the zipper of her jeans, and impressively dragged it down in one swipe without getting anything caught. He reached into the tight restraints of her boxer briefs and pulled out the hardened dick. He clicked his tongue. "Not to sound like a narcissist, but you gotta admit, my dick looks pretty."

"Just shut up and jerk me off you asshole. I'm starting to see stars," She wasn't lying to speed up the process. Her body felt like it was on fire, including her dick. If Bakugou keeps stalling for the sake of punishing her, then he's going to be seeing white for days on end.

Bakugou tentatively began pumping her, his grip not too tight nor loose on the flesh. Y/N sighed in relief as he swiped his thumb over the slit, covering his fingers in her precum. Seeing that he's giving into her needs, she returned the favor by inserting her index finger inside, not allowing him to adjust once she massaged the velvety walls.

Bakugou arched into Y/N's body, panting harshly against her chest. "H-Hah fuck, slow down. Shit!"

"Take it like a champ, Mr.Dynamight."

"F-Fuck you."

Oh no. Probably shouldn't have patronized him, because Bakugou sped up his languid motions to pure vigorous jerking of the hand. A wave of pleasure shot up through her body, jolting backwards due to the intense sensation. Of course he's a pro at this. What isn't he good at?

Bakugou rested his head onto the crevice of your shoulder since he could only reach so far, and ghosted his lips on the skin, carefully restricting himself to not engage in kissing the area. While doing so, he cupped the underside of your balls, rolling them around in his small hands. They looked so big when being manhandled in her grasp. Y/N stifled her moans as he kept messing with them, all the while stroking her simultaneously. She felt him smile. The cheeky fucker! Two could play it at this game.

Y/N used one of her thumbs that weren't preoccupied inside Bakugou to massage the only place she knew that could make him cum in seconds. Two fingers inside, one thumb attentively on the clitorous. It was enough to make Bakugou bite down on her shoulder, trying to prevent any moans from escaping his mouth.

"Moan for me Bakugou. I know you want to," she tried to persuade him with more strokes to the clit, occasionally pinching it with her unoccupied fingers. She can feel he was close. So was she. But she needed to coerce him into helping her to finish too. They need to be a team. "Say something Bakugou. Don't you want to cum? If you don't speak your mind I'm going to stop." She couldn't believe the words that were spewing from her mouth. Y/N has never dirty talked before. Nor has she gotten this far with anyone without freezing up. Definitely the libido effect.

Bakugou detached his teeth from her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. Pleading.

"Go faster. Please." The want and neediness in his voice said it all.

He indeed felt vulnerable and exposed right then and there when confessing his desire, but he couldn't care less. Her fingers inside him were heavenly. A mantra of ,"yesyesyesyesyesyes", left his throat as her ministrations didn't falter.

"Fuck! Keep going. Just like that- shit - just like that... yesssss." His moans were beautiful. Not because they sounded like hers, but the way how he vocalizes his pleasure made sense in the world. Every whimper or moan puts her closer to the edge.

"Are you- are you about to?" He asked quietly, as though he was afraid you might stop at any rate.

"Yes! So close, just keep stroking," it was difficult to form sentences after that, the build up tension in your stomach tightening like a ticking time bomb, making your pleads indecipherable.

But Bakugou didn't want to hear that. He wanted to her to say those three words of encouragement.

Make. Me. Cum

And then, as if his thoughts were broadcasted live, she snaked her hands into the locks of his hair and pulled him close to where the tips of their noses touched briskly.

In a small voice she whimpers out, "Make me cum, Katsuki."

Listening to her instructions, his grip tightened around the base of her shaft and began teasing the slit, never once averting his glare from her own. Y/N's legs turned into jello. It became harder and harder to stand any longer. She needed to release. She quickened her pace and brutally scissored his pussy, the erotic sounds of their wetness reverberating in the tiny apartment.

"Cum then baby. Cum for me only."

Baby

Next thing she knew a strip of white shot out from below, dirtying the hands of Bakugou's. Her body began to spasm. Katsuki didn't loosen his grip, the stimulation becoming unbearable at this point.

The coil within him loosened, the evidence of his climax coating her fingers, allowing his orgasum to reach its full potential.

The pair blacked out for a split second, but recuperated once the light hit their corneas again.

"Shit." "Fuck." "..." "..."

Silence. Then the realization hit.

"I'm staring at you and not me! It worked! Hallelujah!" Y/N exclaimed, feeling herself to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.

"Gross. You got cum all over my expensive shirt," he said, wiping away the white substance with his sleeve.

Both of them went into the kitchen to clean the after math. Bakugou would grunt occasionally in disgust, sponging away the grime. Y/N throughly washed her hands and towel dried them, thoughts stiffly empty and vexed. She broke the awkward tension.

"Well, I guess we should call Endeavor and inform him that we switched back."

He hummed in agreement.

"And we should probably exchange our things tomorrow or tonight, but preferably soon since we're going to be on duty again."

Another grunt.

"Don't worry about me mentioning this to anyone. We can just keep whatever happened minutes ago between us-

Bakugou cut her off entirely by smashing his lips against hers. Shell shocked by his action, Y/N kept her eyes wide open whilst Bakugou's were knitted shut. She laid her hands on his chest and shoved him away harshly, putting their distance at arms reach.

"Bakugou, what the hell? All of sudden you want to kiss me?" Y/N's face fell, contorting into a mixture of sadness and confusion. "You only kiss people you like. Not hate."

Bakugou moved towards Y/N slowly, a hint of a smile forming as he neared closer.

"And that's exactly why I did it, idiot," he proclaimed confidently, cupping the side of her face. The touch was so tender and gentle she forgot that it was Bakugou at first.

"You're toying with me, aren't you? The libido is probably still lingering. If you really liked me, then tell me the exact moment you did."

Without hesitation he said, "The first day of school. When you walked in."

Y/N slapped the hand from her face, her skin flushing red by his blunt confession.

"Stop lying. You were mean to me the first day of school. And every day after that. I don't think calling people a "weakling" or "stupid" constitutes as liking someone."

All he did was chuckle and continued scooting closer, eventually towering above her. She squirmed underneath him. She secretly missed having his height.

"You're absolutely stupid if you think I really meant any of that crap. I may have gone overboard on the whole berating thing, but that was just my way of pushing my feelings away, in hopes you'd improve better and not take shit from people like me."

"Ya know, it's kind of hard to detect that when you were practically spitting on my face."

He leaned down and pecked a chaste kiss on the crown of her forehead.

"You can call me all the names you want later. Kick my ass if ya want, but for now let me make it up to you," he whispers before planting his mouth to hers again, only this time she didn't protest.

Heat swirled within her as she watched Katsuki's eyes flutter close, enriched in the moment to open them, and gripped the base of her neck to apply more pressure into the kiss. The man guided her as he moved his plushed lips ontop of hers, consuming the pretty noises she made. And my, were they absoultey rich coming from her.

I want to hear more, the selfish thought banged repeatedly inside his lust filled mind.

Y/N nervosuly closed her eyes shut when Katsuki's wet tongue prodded the entrance of her tight, lipped mouth. Letting him take full control, Katsuki managed to enter the strong muscle into her wet mouth and explored the canvernous place with such eagerness, such tenacity. Like he's been dying to do this for as long as his skillful mind can remember. Y/N found herself moaning as Katsuki grabbed her waist and forcefully collieded their bodies together, her soft breasts pressed up against his hard chest. Her perky tits put him in a trance, remincseing back to the day when first touched them, the guiltiness eating him up from the inside-out. Katsuki slithered one of his hands to the taunt boob and gave it a firm squeeze, causing Y/N to squeak out in embarrasement. They still feel fucking amazing in his hands.

"You're so fucking cute," he drew back from her, already out of breath. Everything was hitting him like a tsunami. He can finally admit to himself that he's been wanting this since they became co-workers. Hell, since the fucking beginning. Younger Katsuki would deem him as a horny loser who lost at his own game, but he wasn't a damn kid anymore.

"K-Katsuki...bedroom?" her hands found their way back into his crisp locks, futher egging him to comply. The small action made him moan.

"Fuck yes," Katsuki growled out and in a haste hooked his arms underneath the back of Y/N's thighs, hoisting her in the air to lead them into the bedroom they're both familair with.

Journeying to her bedroom became a difficult task. If only she'd stop giving his neck, the most sensitve spot out of his entire body, kitten kisses then he'd be plowing her back by now. He grew weaker by the second as the shy, acute kisses trandsitioned into full on sucking and biting. Not that he was complaining.

Katsuki threw her down onto the bed, unable to contain his smile when she hiccuped a chorus of giggles. God, even her giggles are fucking contagious. Strong arms scooped her up momentarily, bringing her to the center of the bed. Grazing her aching spot was Katsuki's growing buldge. Y/N circled her arms around his tiny waist squeezing him closely as Katsuki rolled his hips downwards to meet hers. She seized Katsuki's bicep, whimpering, and rythmically pushed her groin towards his, the tin material of her shorts scraping the surface of his jeans deliciously. His head dragged down to her collarbones, panting softly, wetting the skin from the condesation of his breath.

"I want you so fucking bad, please," he managed to choke out in between the continous grinding.

Gaining a newfound confidence, Y/N mimiced the way how Bakugou unzipped her when they were still in opposite bodies and peeled back his briefs till his inflamed member popped out, smacking his lower belly. He cursed under his breath noticing the immense amount of pre-cum leaking from the head. As much as she wanted to lick it all up, there were other things to tend to. She shimmied out from her skimpy shorts and crop top, not wasting any time for lingering touches. But Y/N caught a menacing glare in his eyes. His attention was focused on something else. Looking down, she saw that she was sporting a sheer laced bra with matching panties. She definitely doesn't remember having these in her personal closet.

"You bought me lingerie?" Y/N tried to sound unfazed at the thought of Katsuki willingly purchasing these pretty undergarments for her. That must mean he's seen her boobs!

"Yeah? So what if I did. Your sense of fashion is nonexistent. I pitied you that much to where I bought you shit with my own money."

His face was stern, scarily resembling the times he'd be bashing someone's head on the concrete during a bloody battle. But his eyes told a different story. She couldn't quite pin point the time or place when she witnessed the same gleaming spark in those vermilion orbs, but she felt safe and wanted all in one.

So she began teasing the straps of her bra, head still in disbelief that the blonde underneath her bought it, and let the material slip off her shoulder seductively. Bakugou's breathing quickened as he watched y/n toy with the next strap. He stopped her midway.

"No," his fingers were ironically cold.

"No?" She questioned him, awkwardly frozen still on his lap. His evident boner pushing up against her sex, making her wet even more.

Numbly, Bakugou pulled up both of the straps to her bra and chuckled lightly to himself.

"I wanna fuck you with this on. It's been on my mind since I bought it," he admitted out loud.

Y/N held back a moan, his words carrying so much weight to them all the while directing it straight to her drenched pussy.

Without saying a word, y/n left acute kisses on Bakugou's neck, trailing it down further and further till she reached the leaking head of his member. He became antsy as she wrapped her petite hand around the base, fingers tracing the topography of his veins. Y/N saw the desperate look on his face and took all of him in her mouth, holding in the breath of oxygen she took before doing so. Bakugou hissed, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip nearly ripping the skin apart. This feels way better and more appropriate. He prefers her wet mouth over her fingers any day of the week.

Y/N sucked in her cheeks, allowing herself to take more of his member. The tip of his head eventually hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag and choke due to the sudden pressure.

"F-Fuck. Holy shit, keep going," Katsuki begged, tears swelling in his ducts already.

The saliva from her open mouth created a natural lubricant, making it easy for her to bob her head up and down. Bakugou's ears picked up the erotic wet squelching sounds coming from her as she kept up the brutal pace, the noise alone making him want to come undone. The sight of y/n slobbering on his dick is now engraved in his head. He let out a wanton moan when she played with his balls, recalling the memory of him performing the same ministration on himself with her beautiful hands.

He can feel the familiar sensation spreading down below, his throat constricting as the stimulation of her sucking and licking becoming too much. Before she could continue, Bakugou reached over and lifted her head by her hair.

"I can't hold it in any longer. I need to be inside you now," his voice was strained to point where it came out as a whisper.

Pushing her back gently, Bakugou latched his mouth onto hers as he spread her legs wide apart. Revealing a canal of her wetness dripping from her panties to the inner thighs. Bakugou licked his lips hungrily. Mentally slapping himself for not tasting her before she gave him head. He'll make sure to explore that endeavor later.

Lips still locked, Bakugou tugged the bottom half of her laced panties aside, strings of her glistening wetness shimmering, and positioned himself at her aching entrance. The tip of his cock teased her folds, coating it even more. He agonizingly went in slow circles, occasionally slapping her clit with it. Y/N's arms were above her head, clutching the linen sheets in anticipation. Katsuki smirked against her lips at her wrecked expression.

"Bakugou please...," y/n pleaded with her full chest. She wants to know how it feels to be wrapped around him. To be one with him. "Don't hold back. Just fuck me."

Bakugou's eyes grew darker after the demand, pure lust taking control over his body now. He sheathed into her quickly without taking his eyes off of her face. A quiet whimper left her throat when he fully bottomed out. He checked for any signs of y/n looking displeased or uncomfortable, but he got his answer when he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in as close as possible. Bakugou basks in at the sight of y/n sucking him completely, her legs fully bent back in an awkward position. He decides to pull his cock halfway out. y/n whimpers due to loss of friction but gets rewarded seconds later when Katsuki rams his cock inside again, pushing all his weight onto her.

"Oh, fuck, Katsuki!," she whines, instinctively clutching her walls around him.

"You're so tight for me huh baby? Can't help but to clamp around this dick," Katsuki sneered while pumping tentative thrusts into her.

His hands clasped both of her thighs now, pulling her towards him, urging her to move in a harmonious dance with him. Finding somewhat of a rhythm, y/n fucked Katsuki back by rolling her hips, a synapse of heat exchanging between them. Sweat starts dripping down from the crown of his forehead onto the peaks of her breasts. Lost in thought, he tipped his head forward and lapped up the remains of his salty musk, tongue expertly twirling around the taunt nipple. Y/N mewled, hands searching - reaching - for anything to ground herself, settling on interlocking her fingers with Katsuki's nitroglycerin drenched hands. She titled her head and took a whiff.

Caramel and soap

A popping sound went off in her ears. Katsuki released her swollen tit only to look up with hooded eyes, his infamous smirk on full display.

"Open your mouth," was all he said before raising one of his fingers that she was so embarrassingly fixated on moments ago. When she didn't obey Katsuki grabbed her by the jaw and shoved not one, not two, but three fingers in her mouth. Like with his cock, she couldn't handle the intensified pressure in the back of her throat, gagging instantaneously.

"Atta girl. Just take my fingers like a good bitch. Oh? You like it when I degrade you huh? Don't lie, you tightened instantly when I said that." Katsukis pace sped up rapidly, pumping into her cunt like a madman, fingers still lodge down her throat. Each thrust left her shuddering for more, his hips meeting hers to create a loud song, the noise drowning out her muffled screams.

It became hard to see now, a tunnel vision of just a crimson glow. Soon she feels herself becoming light. Katsuki grew impatient and flipped y/n on her stomach, a tiny oof rocked out from her, and inserted his member back into her stretched out cunt.

Y/N yelps as Katsuki's cock hits the sweet spot - fresh tears flooding down her flushed face, babbling nonsense into her pillow.

She caves, sobbing, "yes, yes, ohgod. you feel so good. you're so fucking good -ah katsuki!"

Looming over her trembling body, the blonde slows his harsh thrusts to a savagely slow grind. He lowly chuckles watching her writhe and wiggle her body in desperation.

"You think you can just come that easy? Beg for me to let you come!"

Smack!

A harsh sting rattled her lower back, causing her to bite down harshly on her lip to avoid showing any pain.

"Such an asshole..." y/n huffed out, oblivious to the way how Katsuki was preparing for her next punishment.

Smack! Smack!

"Not good. Ask nicely for me to fuck this pretty pussy into the mattress."

More whimpers into the tear stained pillow.

"P-Please Katsuki..." she begins, frustration growing exponentially with every word. "Fuck me. I need your cock. I always needed your cock Katsuki. Make me scream out your name when I come!"

She didn't even have time to process what she said before Katsuki enclosed his hand around her throat, forcefully dragging her writhing body to his chest, cranking her head in a 90 degree angle. Cock still warming up her insides.

"That's my girl," he said before kissing her lips again, devouring the sweet noises she made.

Her neighbors were in for a long night. - Both of their bodies the next morning faced more damage than any crusade of a patrol. Bruises painted the outskirts of y/n's body, trailing from her thighs to the divots of her breasts. Katsuki paid no mind to it, seeing how he can make a bloody lip a trailblazer look.

Even though no one wanted speak much about the issue at hand - last night was a pivotal moment for their relationship.

Because y/n wouldn't be making a fresh batch of coffee for the Katsuki Bakugou in her kitchen right now.

Because Bakugou wouldn't be lounging by her washing machine, waiting for the timer to go off so he can put her bed sheets in the dryer.

They found themselves sitting comfortably in silence - the soft whipping of car horns outside her cracked window - Katsuki blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. It all seemed unreal to her. In any other circumstance they'd be at each other's necks by now, screaming nuisances in the air. She considers this whole ordeal a ruse. But it isn't. Thank god it isn't. Because Katsuki never looked calmer or relaxed in his entire life till now. And she wasn't going to bat an eye away from this ground breaking phenomenon.

Intently watching him drink from across the table, she ponders if Katsuki liked her from the get go, and maybe just disguised his feelings with disgust towards her later on. The question will go unanswered, possibly until he confides and tells the story himself, but for now she was content not knowing the what if.

"How did you know I like black coffee?" Katsuki asks, quirking up an eyebrow at her.

Y/N takes a long drag from her mug, indulging in the sweet taste of the caramel creamer.

She smiles and says, "I don't know. Just took a wild guess."

#mha smut #mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki smut #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine

814 notes · View notes

desertsportshipping · 1 year ago

Text

Wes was used to getting compliments and being flirted with (although sometimes it crossed the line into harassment) in Orre, but it was always about his looks. There was the very rare instance where someone complimented his battling skills (Willie), but it was always surface level. He started flinching at compliments of his looks, as it was either an insult or a way to try and butter him up to get what they want from him.

Some of the shit he's heard definitely crossed the line into harassment and creepy behavior. Wes usually kept his mouth his mouth, as it wasn't worth making a scene and losing whatever target he was after. At the beginning, Rui tried to defend his honor or dignity or whatever, but she eventually realized it was fruitless.

It was an oxymoron how the Apex Predator of Orre was also its most wanted prey.

Being in Galar was refreshing. In the Wild Area, he almost never encountered another soul. The wild Pokemon were wary of him at first, but eventually grew to trust him to protect them, accepting himself and his Pokemon as part of the ecosystem. The poachers he was chasing out were too busy running for their lives to try and flirt with the one threatening their lives. And the one junior professor who occasionally went out there was already in a relationship and never showed anything more than vague concern about his health.

And then Leon crashed into his life.

The man was terribly, awfully honest. There wasn't a single mean bone in his body. Somehow, against all known logic, Leon complimented the strength of his character, the love he has for his Pokemon, the dedication to his new purpose that he chose for himself. Things Wes didn't think he deserved to be complimented on.

Wes told Leon that he didn't believe him once, and Leon just responded that he'd keep telling him until Wes believed him. He refused to leave Wes's side, trusted Wes with his worries and suspicions, the man practically gave Wes his heart and trusted him to take care of it.

Wes hasn't realized it, but he'd given Leon his heart a long time ago. And maybe, he'd believe Leon if he told him he was beautiful.

"Why?" Wes asks. "Why are you so kind? Aren't you afraid that someone will use it to hurt you?"

Leon smiled back. "Why would I be afraid, when you're here with me?"

#i hate them #this stupid crack ship has taken over my brain #this started as “what if the champion from both regions that have stadiums with Pokemon battles kissed”#and now i have emotions about them #desertsportshipping

5 notes · View notes

lovebykai · 3 years ago

Text

Hero

》 Bad Intentions - Wild Things Drabble 1

"Baji!" Your wide, misty eyes focused on him from the arms of the other alpha.

Chifuyu was reeking with distress a little ways away, beat to Hell but furious, and he did a quick survey of the situation. Obviously you were being held against your will, but he wasn't entirely sure of the details of what the fuck was going on.

Not that it really mattered.

It was the stench of your fear had him moving before he could really think much about the consequences; he was impressed when you managed to slip the other man's grip just before his fist connected with his face.

Then promptly landed a kick to his nuts.

If he hadn't been half-feral with rage at the other packs audacity, he'd have laughed. You scrambled away with unnerving speed and Chifuyu leapt into action alongside him.

"Kick their asses!" The young omega laughed at your cheer before both boys obeyed.

When the other pack retreated he found himself moving towards you instinctively. Likewise, you hustled to him; throwing your arms around his waist, you let out a watery laugh against his chest. His fingers tangled in your hair, holding you to him as a purr rattled from his chest.

"You good?"

"Uh-huh." The muffled confirmation made Chifuyu scoff beside him as he approached.

"Then quit cryin'! Jeez, you act like this isn't a weekly thing." At the other boys teasing you shot a glare at him and released Baji to cup his cheeks.

"Our beta is too pretty," The older boy couldn't hide his grin when you turned flustered eyes his way at the omegas declaration. "She gets harassed on the daily. It's a never ending job."

"'Suno!" You whined indignantly, pinching Chifuyus cheeks.

"Good thing you've got a pack of badasses then, huh?" The pout you leveled at him for encouraging your childhood friend made his heart stutter, but it was the omegas laughter that sealed the deal.

"My heroes." You sighed, surrendering with a small smile and a roll of your eyes.

Baji was in love.

#bi #bad intentions #keisuke baji #baji keisuke #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #chifuyu matsuno #matsuno chifuyu #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #omega!chifuyu #alpha!baji #beta!reader #omegaverse #tokyorev #tokyo revengers #✒ . kai fecit

95 notes · View notes

queenharumiura · 2 years ago

Text

Just a thing I felt like writing on Haru and how she deals with some situations. Some chikan related bc idk. Don’t ask me why. I felt like thinking about it.

Haru Miura is a person who is friendly and enjoys making new friends. It was common to see her walking up to someone, striking a conversation, and then coming back with a new friend to invite over for tea.

You could say she’s very personable that way, but she was also quick to turn the moment someone’s actions don’t align with her moral standards. Quick to judge and even quicker to act. It was a bad habit of hers, she admits, but it’s hard to control when she’s impulsive in general.

The one thing that people who knew her well understood, was the fact that Haru was situationally brave. She was pretty cowardly and she was quick to run, but if she felt she had to protect someone, she could stand her ground. In the face of danger, Haru was usually quick to act- violently, at that.

When alone, it truly depended on whether or not the other person was so ‘weird’ they creeped her out, turning all her fight instinct into flight.

Really, the difference in how she reacts can be summed into:

Was she alone?

Was there someone she felt she had to protect?

Was she dealing with a pervert?

Is this a wild weirdo encounter?

It’s never come down to it yet, but if push ever came to shove, Haru could take someone’s life if Lambo or I-pin were in danger. She’d obviously not want to kill someone, but if it were between becoming a criminal and regretting allowing harm to come to Lambo or I-pin, there was no time for hesitation on her end.

If anyone was bullying Lambo, she’d get in between him and the assailant, and have some choice words to exchange before ushering the cow-child away. It mattered not who she was faced up against, she would stand firm in front of the adored cow-child.

Would she be scared? Of course. Would that stop her from protecting a child? Absolutely not.

Haru was that friend who could flag down a waitress, ‘My friend asked for no pickles, please correct this’ for others, but would simply accept the pickles for herself.

Did she extend her protection only towards those she knew? No, anyone who was in need of help was going to have her attention. Haru Miura was unable to ignore a person in need, especially the weak.

Was she above using whatever means necessary to deal with any problem? Nope~!

[scene]

While walking was her preferred way of getting from point A to B, sometimes the final destination was a bit too far for such, so she’d have to resort to a bus or a subway. Listening to music as she reads a book in hand, she was largely ignoring the world around her.

Still, she can notice out of the corner of her eye two women anxiously looking over and whispering among themselves. Pulling out one earbud from her ears, she listens in and realizes that they’re talking about a ‘chikan’ on the bus.

Who had the nerve to harass a girl in broad daylight on a public transport bus? Unfortunately, many chikan had the audacity to do such a thing. Taking pictures up skirts, groping, and many other dastardly acts weren’t uncommon in Japan. Why else did the term ‘chikan’ exist if it weren’t such a pervasive issue women had to face?

Filled with righteous fury, Haru stowed away her items, to fish out her phone. She starts to maneuver through the crowded bus, stopping before the older man that was harassing a poor girl, too frightened and embarrassed to speak or act up against this vile man.

Phone out, she snaps a picture of his face.

While punching or slapping was her preferred method, it was harder to accomplish in a crowded train. Instead, she opts for slamming her foot atop the man’s foot, putting her entire weight into it. Before he could question her about the photo she’d taken, she swiftly slams her foot down.

She’s efficient, you see.

The man kneels down to nurse his foot, and she bends at the knees to be at eye level. “Oi, Ojii-san. I know at least 2 dozen ways to get rid of an old man like you and ensure that no one can ever find you. Don’t you know that all the local Gumi in this area hate cowardly chikan? Luckily for you, I’m in contact with some.” She’d wave her phone in her hand jovially, but the tone in her voice was anything but.

It’s deep and without any of her characteristic bounce. She’s mad. Mad-mad, as they say.

“If you don’t want to get in trouble with any of the local yakuza, I suggest you behave better- fast.”

With that threat issued, she’d stand to address the poor girl, ushering her away from the old man. Her cheerful and bright countenance returns.

“Mou~ I was looking everywhere for you~ Hm? Ohhhh he said that he ate something weird this morning. Let’s go before he starts losing his innards.”

She wouldn’t leave this girl’s side until she was calm. She would assure her that the man was going to suffer for what he’s done. How? Oh—she had her ways, don’t worry.

[end scene]

Was she bluffing, you ask? You think the local yazuka would take well to some foreign power making waves in Japan? Perish the thought. Of course the Vongola and the Yakuza came in contact with one another.

Who was Haru if not a person who was well-adept at networking with others to be able to have multiple contacts with all kinds of people? Her contacts didn’t just stop at other mafia-members and Yakuza. She also knew real-estate agents, professors at renown universities, and more.

Sending the man over to the police was an option, but Haru preferred a more thorough approach. Let the man never dare to even think of another school-girl ever again now that he was scum of the earth to those of the underground.

This girl was not one to anger as she had no qualms over using her connections to punish literal trash.

Of course, if the sap had targeted her instead, it would’ve been a swift retribution.

[Scene]

“!” Did she just--?

No- surely on this crowded bus, someone’s bag had just bumped into her? Senses on high alert, she waits before she’s absolutely sure what she feels is a hand before she whirls around and slams her elbow into his cranium.

“Did you think we Midori girls are easy targets? Too demure to respond?” You don’t even know the half of it.

You think that being one of Kyoko’s best friends mean that Ryohei wouldn’t have taught her a few things? That Gokudera didn’t have an influence on her?

Was she embarrassed to be making a scene? Yes, but in the face of knowing that she couldn’t have been this man’s first victim, she’s filled with rage.

The local Namahage-enthusiast was angry enough that when she swung with her elbow, she was sure to apply lightning flames to make a harder impact.

This girl doesn’t hold back her punches, so watch out Dr.Shamal. She’s coming for your brand if you mess with her!

“I suggest you wait with me for the police to arrive or I promise you’ll regret it.” Haru had little to no patience with keeping things on the down low when she was the victim and she worried there would be future victims.

[End Scene]

Sometimes, she was too tired to deal with things. If any of the guys were around, sometimes she would just tap out and send them over instead to deal with it.

It was one of those perks of being friends.

Haru did her own fair share of supporting them, so the least they could do is help her on occasion with her ‘worries.’

It usually went down in a similar fashion of Haru being harassed by someone and she spots someone from a distance and she calls their attention by first name.

Rarely ever referring to anyone by first name, it is a quick way to get anyone’s attention. Oh, but Ryohei was ‘Onii-san,’ mind you. He reacted to that faster than he did ‘Ryohei’.

Out of everyone, he was the most reliable. You may not even get to ‘san’ before he rushes over and deals with the situation for her.

There have been times she’d rush over and motion with a head jerk towards the perp. If they don’t deal with it, she will, and it won’t be pretty.

You know, as a Yamato Nadeshiko in training, it was better if she had someone else deal with the situation for her, and she knew her friends wouldn’t mind helping her get rid of any creeps harassing her. Some being more than glad to rid the streets of a few weirdos.

Still, there were times where she wanted to deal with the situation herself.

One time, she’d led a group into an alleyway and zapped them all with her lightning flames.

Did she get scolded for such a showy thing? No comment.

Would she do it again? She has the right to remain silent.

“Oh- there it is.” She saw the sign posted outside the building that informed the public that a restaurant was reserved for an important meeting with the Shirayuri-gumi. Today, they had a meeting with the Vongola on something, and she was arriving separate from the rest as she had an errand to run right before the meeting.

“Hey cutie, where are you headed?”

Ah, it should be a crime to be so cute. What a sinner, she was.

Noting the time on her phone, she didn’t have the time nor patience to have this be prolonged. “You can’t handle someone like me. Leave.”

“Ohhh~ Feisty, I like that. Don’t worry about that none, I can handle anything you can dish out.”

Haru gives the man a dubious look.

This guy was really trying to bite off more than he could chew. No matter how she looked at him, he was a regular civilian. There was no way he could stand tall and proud like a peacock when face to face with either the Yakuza or the Mafia.

“For your sake, I suggest you leave before it’s too late.”

“Ooooo how scary, look at the kitten hissing.”

If there was one thing she hated being called, it was kitten, because it reminded her of a certain pervy doctor.

About to say something, someone interrupts her.

“Haru-san? Are you by yourself? Who is this?” A woman dressed in a dark blue with white lily accents Kimono approaches her. By her side was a tiny child, who Haru knew to be Akihiko, the son and future head of the Shirayuri-gumi.

One could say she was a fitting image of a traditional Yamato Nadeshiko if not for the piercing cold gaze she had, fit for an Anee-san of the Yakuza. Being the wise of the Kumicho was no laughing matter, she held a high position within the gumi when respect was concerned.

By her side was the heir, the next in line for Kumicho. In essence, a ‘waka-dana’.

Being great with kids, Haru got along well with the child, and so she sometimes attended the meetings to help attend to the child.

“Oh, Shirayumi-gumi no Anee-san, you’re here with waka-dana.” She waves at the little boy, who shyly waves back. “I’m arriving separately from the others today. This person… ” Was a pest?

Was a person who was trying to bite off more than he could chew?

An idiot who is about to faint from fright over realizing that the woman he was trying to pick up had ties with the Yakuza?

How to answer her question?

“Is this guy bothering you, Haru?” An irritated voice asks.

Ah, the Vongola 10th generation have arrived and they’d noticed that Haru was with company. They recognized 2 out of the 3 people with Haru.

“Hahi? Oh~ It’s no problem at all, this man was just lost and confused, ne?” Be grateful that she was giving you an out.

The man quickly runs away like a dog with his tail permanently attached between his legs.

“Now, let’s go, shall we? Akihiko-san has grown so much since the last i’ve seen him. Before we know it, he’ll grow up to be a great waka for the Shirayumi-gumi.” Haru strikes a conversation with the Anee-san of the Gumi, effortlessly allowing the child to take hold of her hand without question.

#Neo drabble #Haru HC drabble corner #((idk I just felt like writing something like this out for funsies. My brain rots are real and I can only banish them by writing them out))#((If not writing them out I sometimes get art. Now I am free))#((Haru bitch I won't hesitate Miura))

4 notes · View notes

snuggetfish · 4 years ago

Note

Just read your post about Kiryu in bed and was wondering how you think Majima is. I know a lot of people write him to be pretty kinky but something tells me he likes things to be personal and romantic. What are your thoughts?

Oh boy do I have thoughts on this 👀 NSFW under the cut, as before~

I know what you mean by Majima being generally portrayed as a kinky bastard. Looking at his usual over the top behaviour, it would be easy to extrapolate that he's also wild in bed. And I think that depending on the scenario... he might be. Because he’d play it up, as easily as he plays up his breezy personality to crazy levels. If it’s a one night stand or a really the first time in a very new relationship, he’d be inclined to treat it like any other brief encounter: keep the act up, play into their expectations and just abandon himself to momentary pleasure. Anyone who’s seen or heard of him and his reputation will likely assume he’s down for all sorts of fetishes. The Mad Dog fucks, he doesn’t make love. And he’ll probably score you with his tanto while doing it.

But this is all, as I said, an act. For years it’s been Majima’s means of disguising and distracting himself from how vulnerable he is inside. He’s sentimental and he falls in love easily and he knows this, bitterly even. So he’ll be overly dominant, go hard and fast, enough to fill a need and nothing more... presumably. But what if his partner were to hold him closer, stroke his face and kiss him softly? Stick around for cuddles afterwards, only to fall asleep in his arms? Just maybe... he could get used to it.

Once he’s comfortable with someone and in a stable relationship, then he’ll loosen up and accept more of the bonding aspects of sex. At his core, I think Majima really wants a loving touch, to be both on the giving and receiving end. Body worship would definitely be his thing. On the one hand because it’s his way of showing complete devotion, without having to say it. Words are hard and his mouth is much better at kisses than it is at expressing just how much love he feels for them. On the other hand, Majima’s own body bears painful scars and memories, in addition to being touch-starved. If someone were really willing to cherish all of him, even the parts he doesn’t usually show to the world... well then he'd simply melt in their arms.

That’s not to say he’d be completely vanilla. He wouldn’t seek out extreme fetishes, but he’d incorporate some roleplay into the bedroom. The man’s got an entire wardrobe of “Kiryu-chan harassment” costumes, he’s gotta put it to good use! Also, unlike Kiryu, I think he’d be very receptive to experimenting. If there’s a fantasy you’ve always wanted to live out, he’s listening and he’s down for it, as long as it doesn’t involve actually hurting you. He might even learn new things about himself. After all, when it’s with the right person, even a kinkier act can be tender and romantic. Light bondage + body worship? I think that would ignite quite the fire in him. 👀 By his own admission (in Y0), he’s a bit of a masochist, but I think his relationship with pain would be complicated at best, considering the torture he’s been through. He might seek it out because it’s what he’s used to and even what he thinks he deserves... so you can bite him or dig your nails into his skin and he’d grin through it... but it’s affectionate caresses that would rattle him more, for sure. I’ve talked a lot about kinky stuff, but what about turn-ons? In a previous ask I mentioned Majima would be less of an ass/boob man and more of a neck and shoulders kinda guy and I still stand by that. He’s attracted to elegance (in women particularly) and there’s nothing more graceful that the gentle slope of a loved one’s shoulders. Also a prime nuzzling spot. Easiest way to get him riled up is minimal lingerie. As he says in Dead Souls:

Wear those under your clothes when you’re lounging at home and then watch for Majima’s reaction when he discovers them as you give him his “welcome back” hug and his hands start roaming... or, even better, send him a racy picture while he’s at work. 😌 In terms of the sex itself, I think it starts slow, with him giving plenty of care to getting you properly turned on. Honestly just seeing the desire in your eyes makes Majima’s head swim and he’s gonna want you as close as possible, I’m talking full body contact, so that you’re practically inseparable and he can feel your warm skin and your heartbeat against his. Now slow passion is nice, but Majima doesn’t have Kiryu’s patience and composure, so I think he’d be prone to... losing it. Gradually picking up the pace until he’s really pounding into you or forcing you down on him if you’re on top. How vocal he’ll be throughout this depends on the era, I think... younger Majima (’85-’88) would try to stifle all sounds because he’s still a little self-conscious, but Mad Dog Majima would have less qualms about letting you know just how amazing you make him feel. If there’s dirty talk on his end, it would stop abruptly once thrusts start getting vigorous. Head empty, only thrust. Best dirty talk you can serve him is his name, in any form: moans, sighs and cries. Never fails to short-circuit his brain. He doesn’t always last long because of how roughly he goes, but that doesn’t mean he’s giving up after only one round. He’s skilled with his mouth and fingers as well and more than eager to please you. If there’s no time for a proper session, then oral sex is what Majima would go for. Whether giving or receiving, he’s always gonna be watching your face. He wants direct eye contact while your mouth is full of his cock or you’re biting the sheets rocking against his tongue. And for afterwards... expect him to be clingy as hell. He’ll do some quick clean up if needed and then wrap himself as tightly as possible around you. Drop a little “I love you” into his ear now and he’s truly in Heaven. 💙

#majima goro x reader #goro majima x reader #yakuza x reader #anon asks #yes it's long because I have many THOUGHTS about this

355 notes · View notes

hopelesshawks · 4 years ago

Note

Hawks would go FERAL if he saw his girlfriend in his clothes. He would go absolutely wild that man has a claiming/marking kink for SURE

Oh absolutely. You technically didn’t request I write this but you also knew what you were doing dropping this in my ask box so HERE WE GO. I wrote this instead of finishing the next part of Official Accounts oops

It’s an 18+ one y’all, minors dni

Contains mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, mutual masturbation, light dom/sub tones, minor cumplay

Maintaining a relationship as a pro hero is hard. Maintaining a secret relationship as a pro hero is even harder. You understand that being a top hero comes with a certain level of fame but if one more fanboy or creepy reporter hits on you, you are going to scream. Not to mention the legion of fan girls constantly screaming after your boyfriend. You get it. Hawks is hot. It’s part of why you date him, but did they really need to mob him every time he was in the vicinity? Needless to say jealousy was not uncommon in your relationship but the two of you had learned to deal with it over the past couple years. Deal with it frequently meaning putting on the best poker face you could muster until you got home and were able to take out your frustrations in a way that was fun for both of you.

You could already tell today was going to be a long day. You had just gotten back from an early morning patrol and just when you wanted to pass out for a much deserved nap you’d instead been told you had to give an interview on the opposite side of town. So instead of napping you had caught a cab to the other side of town and dragged yourself to the studio, only to discover your least favorite reporter would be giving the interview. The interviewer was an attractive man in his late 20s who clearly was unaccustomed to being told no. It didn’t matter how many times you explained you weren’t interested, the man always flirted with you at every opportunity. In a version of reality where pro heroes could punch out interviewers without reproach, you would have taught him a lesson by now, but your temper had got you in enough trouble with the HPSC already this year.

You sit down for the interview and immediately you can tell the interviewer won’t be keeping things professional. It’s live so you can’t do anything in the moment but grin and bear it. By the time the interview is over he’s managed to put his hand on your thigh twice, make an inappropriate comment about your hero costume three times, and imply the two of you should date at least five times. You hate him. The minute the cameras stop rolling, without dropping the polite smile from your face you remove his hand from your thigh and tell him “If you want to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit I’d reign it in,” before storming off the set.

Finally, finally you get to go home. You immediately take a hot shower to wash off the sweat from patrol and the gross feeling from the interview. What you really want right now is your boyfriend, but Hawks is still working and probably will be for a while so you settle for throwing on one of his shirts with nothing underneath but a pair of underwear. You flop onto his side of the bed, burying your nose in his pillow to catch his lingering scent, and immediately fall asleep.

Hawks is irritated. He’s irritated because it feels like work has kept him from having quality time with you lately. He’s irritated because he saw your interview today. He’s irritated because he couldn’t even explain fully to Mirko why the interview had pissed him off so much. He’s irritated because he never should have come up with the idea to keep your relationship a secret and he’s irritated because you never should have agreed. None of these things are truly your fault though so when he finally gets home Hawks fully intends to just cuddle you to sleep and let you complain about how shitty your day was. Honest! He had not accounted for finding you curled up on his side of the bed wearing little other than his shirt.

You wake up from your nap to find your boyfriend lurking in the doorway to your room staring at you. You sit up and drowsily rub the sleep from your eyes. “What’re you doing just standing there Kei? Hurry up and come to bed,” you whine. You were not expecting him to groan “fuck,” before all but lunging towards you. Adrenaline surges through you immediately, the notion of sleep banished completely from your thoughts as suddenly Hawks is pinning you to the bed. You can feel his erection pressing against you but before you can ask what has triggered such a reaction he’s already got a hand in your panties, his thumb finding your clit with practiced ease. “Shit, Keigo, slow down,” you gasp as you grip the bedsheets tightly but he pays you no mind as his middle finger slides inside you. “God you’re so fucking wet for me. Look so fucking beautiful like this, you know that?” he groans.

You can’t even form a coherent response as he slides another finger inside you, dragging them along your inner walls in exactly the way he knows you like. Your hands move from the bed to his back and it’s only then you realize how much clothing he’s still wearing. “Clothes. Off. Now,” you manage to pant out and Keigo nods in acknowledgment. When he withdraws his fingers it’s all you can do to not whine at the loss of stimulation. He quickly sheds his coat and shirt, and for a moment you’re mesmerized by the wild look he has in his eyes and the haste with which he strips off the layers of his hero costume. As he’s finally moving to undo his pants you move to take off the shirt you’re wearing but immediately he’s back on you and pinning your hands above your head. “Don’t. Shirt stays on,” he practically growls and it sends shivers straight down your back and into your groin. “Ok,” is all you manage to say as he moves to press a bruising kiss to your neck. He doesn’t stop until he’s left at least a couple hickeys there, then he moves his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I want you to do something for me (y/n),” he whispers as he releases your hands and instead moves to slide your panties off. “I want you to touch yourself for me. Can you do that baby? I wanna watch you play with yourself in my shirt,” he continues and you’re already nodding before you’ve even fully processed the request.

He leans back to watch as you obediently bring one hand down to your aching sex. Your legs instinctively fall open to allow you better access as you slowly begin to rub along your folds before pressing small circles into your clit. You can hear Hawks curse under his breath as he quickly removes his pants and boxer briefs but that only spurs you on more. You truly are a sight to behold as you deftly insert two fingers inside of yourself, your nipples so hard they’re visible through Keigo’s shirt. He drinks in every lewd inch of you, wanting to commit the image to memory as he finally wraps a hand around his thick shaft. He’s not going to last long. He can tell by the way his dick is already weeping precum and he hasn’t even started moving his hand yet. He doesn’t mind at all though as he watches you squirm underneath him. He forces himself to wait until he can tell you’re getting close to climax. Only then does he allow his hand to start moving.

“Fuck Keigo I’m so close,” you moan, and it takes everything in him not to shoot his load right then. “Me too baby, me too. Let’s cum together, ok?” he moans back. “Ok.” “Ok. Fuck! God you look so hot so fucking beautiful right now,” he groans as the two of you continue to push towards climax, each egged on by the other’s performance. It seems to last both a lifetime and only a moment before finally you’re both rushing headlong into orgasm. Keigo quickly shoves his shirt further up your body to reveal your torso so he can paint it white with his release. As the high finally fades he collapses down next to you and you both just sit there for awhile to catch your breath.

“Kei can you get me a towel? I’m too lazy to move,” you finally ask once the two of you have recovered somewhat. You get silence back. “Kei?” you try again. “Can you leave it for a little bit? I promise I’ll give you the best bath ever afterwards,” he asks sheepishly. You can’t help but fondly roll your eyes. “So territorial,” you tease, “but fine. It better be one hell of a bath though.” “Thanks baby,” he smiles as he pulls you close and brings the covers up around the both of you. “The hickeys are gonna be a bitch to try and cover up in the morning though,” you sigh. “Then don’t cover them. It’s about time the world knew you were mine anyway,” Keigo says. “You sure about that?” “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life.”

#this got real outta hand real quick #enjoy #hhrequests #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hopeless.olivia #hopeless.thirst

230 notes · View notes

say-the-name-sebongie · 4 years ago

Text

Princely Problems

Synopsis: Where a princess-love-story-unbeliever meets a prince-like gentleman named Joshua

Pairing: Joshua x fem!reader

Genre: tiny bit angst, fluff somewhere at the end

Warnings: drinking, harassment, violence

Word Count: 3k words

Fairytales were fictional. _____ had already had that down. Princes that saved princesses from abnormally high towers or mad dragons didn’t exist and love stories weren’t what Disney had made them to be. Those fictional movies just made little girls hope for something that could never exist: a perfect love story

Out of all the relationships she had been in, not one of them proved to have a Disney-like fairytale happy ending. In fact, none of them had happy endings. Men only pretended to be princes that would swoop in to save you when you needed it. But even that façade only lasted so long. Men only wanted you for a night, a month, or not at all.

This was why _____ wasn’t fazed (or as fazed as she would like to admit) when the epitome of gentle princely men knelt down beside her, asking if she was okay after her fall on the sidewalk from running too fast to catch a cab to work. He didn’t seem to care that some strands of his perfectly styled hair had fallen down over his eyes as he looked over her for any injuries.

“I’m fine, seriously.” She said as she got up while holding onto the lamppost beside her and pretending not to notice that the guy had held out his hand to help her, taking note that her left ankle was definitely sprained. The boy’s doe-like eyes looked into hers and it took all of _____’s willpower not to nervously swallow under his stare.

“My name’s Joshua and I don’t think you’re okay.” The boy— Joshua— said as he slipped an arm behind her and led her to one of the houses nearby.

“What the heck! Where are you taking me?” _____ panicked. Joshua just laughed, the sun shining on his glorious face as he threw his head back. “This is my house and no, I’m not going to do anything to you. I’ll leave the door unlocked and open if that makes you feel safer but that sprained leg needs to be iced.”

Needless to say, the boy made this “prince” thing look very natural.

Over the next few days, Joshua continued to keep up his princely façade. It was like he was actually born from royalty. The amount of grace and politeness that exuded from his form made _____ gag. He was almost too perfect. Everything he did was considered kind. Helping old ladies cross the street, holding the door open to let the pregnant lady into the shop, carrying groceries for that old man that lived at the end of the street, and basically any action kind and princely. He was just mortifyingly nice.

Not only that but he was mortifyingly nice even to _____ who turned down his many attempts to be of service to her. She didn’t let him open the door for her when they coincidentally went to the same café, grabbing the door handle along with him to open it herself. Nor did she let him help her change her car tire. _____ was fooled once, okay maybe more than once but she wasn’t going to be fooled again. Not by a guy who pretended to be nice. Not by some kind boy who lived a few houses over and made her heart do parkour routines in her chest every time they met. Not by Joshua, and that was final.

So far, Joshua hadn’t gotten tired of her refusals. He was still as nice as he was when they had first met. _____ pitied the girl who would fall for him. There weren’t a lot of people who wouldn’t believe that Joshua was just pretending.

“Joshua sure is one good actor,” she mumbled to herself as she walked.

“You should wear a jacket if you’re going out today.” Speak of the devil. _____ turned around and saw the embodiment of princely behavior graciously standing with a leaf blower in his hands, yard nearly rid of any leaves that had recently started falling. “It's autumn now so the nights are gonna be colder.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes drifted to her legs, exposed by the short dress she was wearing, before coming back up to rest on her face. Typical men. They just can’t help themselves can they, _____ thought scoffed. The neighborhood prince’s face was contorted with worry as if he was afraid that she’d get cold. _____ gave a laugh in response. “I can take care of myself.” She told him before going her way.

-----

Getting drunk was part of the plan. _____ had agreed to go out with her friends from work to get her mind off the angelic creature that had been reaching out and offering his help bothering and pestering her all week. The bar was full of people, music, and alcohol. No princes and no Joshua. Just what she needed tonight.

Her friends immediately went to the dance floor, their eyes wide open and hunting for someone to take home for the night. _____ sat at the bar and watched them as she took shot after shot, drowning any thoughts of Joshua. One shot. Princes didn't exist. Another shot. His real personality would show itself sooner or later. Shot glasses gathered up in front of her as she drank alcohol as if it was water.

"That's enough alcohol for you sweetheart. Why don't I take you outside for some fresh air?" An unfamiliar man's voice said. _____ turned to her right and saw a man reaching for her thigh, his oily hair slicked back and his wild eyes peering over her form. Even in her dunked stupor she noticed that he wasn't looking at her face but at her chest and thighs.

Disgusted, she pushed him away and stumbled to the dance floor in search of her friends. The man followed her closely, his invasive eyes never leaving her body. People bumped and pushed against her, making it hard to make an escape from the man. Soon enough _____ found herself stuck in the middle of the dance floor with the man pressing his pelvis against her back.

"Go away! " she tried to shout at him, but the loud music and chatter drowned out her cry. The man smiled behind her as his hands went lower towards the hem of her dress. _____ pushed hard against him and bolted out of the bar.

She ran out of the exit and was met with the ice-cold air of the night. That apparently was not enough to make the man stop pursuing her because he was still hot on her trail. Desperate to get away from the man, _____ managed to stumble to the main road when suddenly her heel got caught on a stone and she twisted her ankle rather painfully. The girl let out a loud cry of pain.

"Get up, hurry." a new male's voice came as the speaker's warm hands softly gripped her forearms, pulling her up. In the light of the moon, _____ looked up at Joshua’s face. His usually warm eyes were now boiling with anger as he stared at something behind her.

"Josh, my ankle," _____ whined, the alcohol hitting her again and momentarily forgetting that she didn’t want anything to do with Joshua tonight. Light and shadow blended together. The boy sighed and removed his jacket, wrapping it around her legs before positioning his arms around and under her to lift her up.

This was the first time that she had seen Joshua up close. Of course, every time he tried to come near her, she just pushed him away. Her eyes focused on the lines of his face as if it were a camera. He was so annoyingly nice and attractive that her heart started beating faster.

"Come in girlie, let's have some fun at my place." the man said as he came running towards _____. Joshua stood up protectively in front of her. If a fight broke out between him and the man, it was obvious Joshua would win. But the man was too blinded by his desire for pleasure to think straight. He barreled towards _____, reaching down to touch her when Joshua grabbed his arm, pulled him to eye level, and stared him down.

"Leave. Her. Alone." he threw the man to the ground and kicked him for good measure. It was surprising to see this side of Joshua. The warm man who seemed like he couldn't even hurt a fly was now inflamed with anger and beating up a stranger. The fire in his eyes didn’t subside even as he kicked the man over and over.

"Joshua, stop," _____ said as she reached up to tug on his shirt, letting out a yelp as she accidentally moved her ankle. Joshua looked back at her, his wide, warm, worrying eyes meeting hers as he came to her aid. "Don't beat him up, it's not worth it."

"Sorry, it's just that guys like him disgust me," he said as he scooped _____ up and headed off. She heard a car beep before he laid her in the passenger seat of his car. He then went to the driver's seat and started the car.

"You followed me?" _____ asked him, earning a smile from the man beside her. "I figured something would happen to you, especially in that dress." his warm, gentle voice washed over her. He looked up at her and winked. The girl rolled her eyes and looked out the window. Joshua was too attractive for her own good. _____ really had to get him out of her head or she might end up falling for a prince again.

-----

_____ woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her life. She was still in the dress from last night, her foot bandaged and Joshua's jacket draped over her.

Joshua's jacket?

That woke her up. Clearly, she was in her house and sitting on her couch which meant that Joshua had come into her house but had the decency not to go into her room. The fact that she was still in her clothes from last night meant he hadn't tried to undress her.

Why did he have to be such a natural gentleman?

Getting up off the couch, _____ made her way to the kitchen where she found a post-it note sticking on the refrigerator door.

I put some of the hangover soup my mom made in here. Heat it up and eat that when you wake up. Call me if you need anything. - Shua

Below the last sentence was a series of numbers. _____ smiled and saved the number into her contacts. As much as she didn’t want to have anything to do with Joshua anymore, she would have to thank him sooner or later. She had to admit, he was really thoughtful to have done all this. The familiar warm bubbling in her chest from last night came back. _____ shook her head.

It's not real, _____. Don’t start falling for him now.

A knock on her door shook her out of her thoughts. The face of the prince greeted her when she opened it. His kind eyes immediately looked down at her injured foot before the scolding started.

"Why are you already walking around? You're injured, for goodness' sake." He demanded, grabbing her arms and pushing her back into the house.

"Joshua I- Wait-"

He dragged her inside and sat her back down on the couch. Joshua placed down the paper bag he was holding and went straight to the kitchen and brought out the hangover soup. _____ felt like her chest was about to burst. She knew this feeling and this was something she promised herself never to feel again.

He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince.

"Aren't you tired of pretending to be nice Joshua?" _____ huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. The girl couldn't wait for Joshua to snap, to prove her wrong so she could go back to believing that Disney stories were plain fiction. With that, she would have enough reason to not like him and go back to her normal life.

"What do you mean pretending? This is how I always am though?" Joshua said, his head peeking out of the kitchen. When he saw that _____ wasn't convinced, he walked over to her and looked her in the eyes.

"Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Feeling guilty, _____ looked down at the floor. To be perfectly honest, there was nothing Joshua had done that would ever even make her question his kindness. He has been nothing but kind to her and to everyone around him. However, her belief still stands.

“You should probably stop being so nice and princely to me. I don’t believe in those Disney movies that say men will sweep you off your feet and carry you to happily ever after. I’ve been through enough to know what men are truly like. I know you’re not Prince Charming and you can’t make me think otherwise.” _____ hissed before pulling him to the door.

“Thank you for bringing me home last night and for bringing me the soup but I’m not going to fall for another nice guy like you, Joshua.” And with that, she closed the door leaving a stunned Joshua staring at her peephole.

For the next few days, Joshua left _____ alone. No greeting when they passed each other on the street. Heck, it was like they didn’t even know each other. The boy continued to be of help and service to the other people in their neighborhood but he had cut all contact with _____.

The change made _____ happy. Her feelings for Joshua had faded away and she was able to go about her life without that fake prince tempting her with his sweet words and actions. Or so she would like to think.

After kicking Joshua out of her house, he invaded every second of her time. She couldn’t think of anything but him. _____ couldn’t admit it, but she missed having someone greet her in the morning on the way to work. She missed him coming over to her house once in a while to give her some mashed potatoes because he had made too much. The girl lay in bed at night haunted by the warmth of a person she had pushed out of her life. Though _____ wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she missed Joshua.

Christmas time came around and the snow had started piling up in her yard. Shoveling snow was the only thing she could do without thinking of the boy that lived a few houses over so she did it every time she could. _____ shoved piles of ice out of her yard banning all thoughts of princes and boys. It was just her, the shovel, and the ice. Right now, nothing matters, she thought to herself. Her shovel got stuck on a rather large chunk of ice. She pushed with all her might but the ice stubbornly stood its ground.

The sound of footsteps on the snow made her look up to see the very face she had been avoiding to see. Joshua was standing at the edge of her yard with a shovel in his hands. “Do you need help?”

His offer took _____ aback. This was the same guy she kicked out of her house a few weeks ago, right? The guy who she had called a fake. And here he was, offering his help to the girl who had done all that to him.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to bother you.” She gave a forced smile and hoped he would leave her alone after that.

I don’t want to have to kick you out of my life again.

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “You could never bother me _____. If it makes you feel better, you can help me shovel my yard too.”

Seeing that he was adamant about helping her, _____ gave in. The two worked side by side in silence. After finishing Joshua’s yard, he offered her some hot chocolate to which _____ only agreed to because her teeth were already chattering.

As she sat in his living room, looking around at the Christmas decorations already put up. A fire was roaring in the fireplace. She could hear the tinkling of the teaspoon hitting the mugs as Joshua mixed the hot chocolate.

“Don’t you hate me, Joshua?” _____ asked him, nervously fiddling with her hands on her lap.

The boy’s laugh rang in her ears, making her cheeks turn red. Weeks of trying to forget him went to waste as her feeling came back to the surface. “Why would I hate you?”

“Didn’t you get offended that I kicked you out of my house after you were only trying to be nice to me?”

“Of course, not. You had a perfectly good reason to be suspicious of me and I figured that you just needed time to sort your feelings out.” He handed _____ a glass of hot chocolate.

“Feelings?” Did she accidentally tell him something? _____ didn’t remember ever telling anyone, even her own friends, about how she felt for Joshua.

“You probably don’t remember but you’re kinda talkative when you’re drunk. Plus, you called me a prince that one time so it was safe to assume that you probably saw me that way.” _____ turned to the side to hide her blush. Curse the drinking habit she had to have.

“And for your information, I like you too,” he said, turning her head towards him and forcing _____ to meet his glittering eyes as the girl nervously swallowed. There was no turning back now, their feelings were out in the open. All that was needed was their decision on what to do with them.

“Give me a chance to prove you wrong, princess.”

#seventeen #svt #caratwritersclub #Hong Joshua #hong jisoo #joshua #seventeen imagines #seventeen oneshots #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic

68 notes · View notes

silverarmedassassin · 4 years ago

Text

Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

[ Previous | Masterlist | Next ]

It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

#bucky x reader #actor!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #actor au #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

60 notes · View notes