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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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the bodyguard

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

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

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

word count: 20,500

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

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“I’ll be okay.”

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

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

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

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

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

05:30.

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

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

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

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

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

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

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

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched.

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality.

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you.

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Note

hiii hope you’re doing well and drinking enough water!!! I’ve got an idea for high school nerdy wanda that I wanna share with you and you feel free to write it or not! so wanda is nerdy, shy and adorable and reader is popular and actually nice and has always been intrigued by wanda. I was listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo when this idea came to me so, reader probably gives wanda a ride and it becomes their thing and reader is always saying wanda should get her driver’s license and they eventually get together and it’s all cute and fluffy but there’s this blonde girl (for the sake of the song lol) who’s obsessed with reader and always makes wanda nervous and jealous. so when said girl finds out about reader and wanda (let’s just consider this girl the typical most popular girl in school trope) she threatens reader and makes reader break up with wanda and get with her. you decide what the threat would be. maybe something really personal about reader or wanda’s past that would haunt them if people were to find out. but then reader and wanda get back together in the end of course. sorry it’s so long and again you don’t have to write this!!

Hi, honey, is everything alright? I hope so! I had to listen to Drivers Licence One Hour Version to write this, but I liked it haha This song is great for dramatizing a romance I never experienced, and I hope you'll be pleased! By the way, i kept the original drama of the singers (the whole guy was older and stuff)

Happy reading.

Drivers License - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: 13+, Language, mentions of abuse/sexual harassment, bullying, underage kissing.

Words: 2.642K // Read on AO3 too

You met Wanda Maximoff in your senior year of high school.

It was raining heavily, and you had stayed late at school to take care of your responsibilities as leader of the athletic team. You figured that at that time there would only be you and the janitor in school, but as you were leaving towards the parking lot, you bumped into someone.

- Damn it, I'm sorry! - you said, looking at the person. It was a girl about your age, but you had never seen her before. She looked away from you immediately, as she bent down to pick up the books you dropped. - Hey, let me help you with that.

You bent down and helped her pick up the books, and when you stood up, you handed them to her with a smile.

- Thank you. - She spoke softly without looking at you. Maybe she was shy, you thought.

And then you heard thunder and let out an exclamation, an idea occurring to you.

- Hey, are you driving? - you asked gently, and the girl frowned, but denied it with her head. - I can give you a ride, because of the rain.

- Oh, that's okay. No need. - She denied, blushing. You let out a little giggle when a louder thunderclap sounded.

- It's no bother, really. - You said, smiling. - Where do you live?

- On the Sokovia complex.

- Wow, you see? We are practically neighbors. - You reply cheerfully. - I live two streets away from your house.

The girl nods, looking away. You put your hand in your pocket.

- All right then. - She finally agrees, and you smile as you open the door to the parking lot, and walk out in front with her walking slightly behind.

You walk in silence to your car, but when you start the vehicle, you want to talk to her.

- So, what's your name? - you ask gently as you drive in reverse to leave the parking lot.

- Wanda. - She answers in a small voice looking out of the window. - Wanda Maximoff.

- I've never seen you before, Wanda. - You comment, and then you are outside, and the rain makes a loud noise against the car.

- I'm a first-year. - She says and you let out a sigh of understanding. That' s why you didn't know her, she was a freshman. - But I know you.

You let out a surprised little laugh.

- Oh yeah?

- Everybody knows.

- Is it bad?

She shrugs, smiling slightly. You think you already like her. You then turn on the radio, letting some pop song play softly, and then you start tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song.

- Since you are a first-year, you must not have a driver's license yet, right? - You comment, and Wanda denies it with a grumble.

- I'm only 15. - she says. You stop at a traffic light.

- Why were you in school until now? - you ask curiously.

- It's the best time to be in the library. - She answers, looking at you briefly.

You are silent again, and then you arrive in the area of the Sokovia residences.

- Hey, Wanda. - You call out to her before she opens the door. - I can drive you to school if you want. - And seeing her surprised expression, you quickly add with amusement. - Just until you get your license.

Wanda smiles, and nods in agreement before leaving.

It took 160 rides for you to realize that you were in love with Wanda Maximoff. And you thought it was not surprising at all.

From the first time you saw her, you thought she was impressive. And then every day of the week, you had a vision of her half-asleep leaving the house, and greeting you with a smile. You talked about everything, from the most superficial and random things, to your insecurities and fears. You shared your breakfast, and sang songs together. But then you'd get to school, and your friends would surround you, and Wanda would disappear. You only got her back on the way out, when you gave her a ride home.

You didn't say anything about it, and neither did Wanda. It was as if your car was the safe space in your relationship. And you were completely terrified of messing it up.

And then it rained again, but this time your car was in the outside parking lot. You ran to the car through the rain, and when you finally took cover you were soaked. You started laughing the next second, and when you looked at Wanda, you couldn't control yourself.

- I want to kiss you. - You breathlessly confessed when you stopped laughing, Wanda blinked in surprise, her face red. - Is that all right?

It takes a moment, but she nods. Then you move on the seat toward her, and she meets you halfway. When your mouths meet, you both sigh. It's sweet and tender, and you part, leaving your foreheads together.

- Why did you stop? - She whispered with her eyes closed, making you gasp. And then you kissed her again, this time until the windows were fogged up.

Unfortunately things don't get amazing after that. The routine comes back to you, and then you are overwhelmed with end-of-year tasks. Even though you are completely in love with Wanda, and steal kisses between one ride and the next, you see the distance between you grow. Maybe it's the way you two act like you didn't know each other at school, or how Wanda won't tell you what your friend Sharon Carter was talking to her about the other day at school, or maybe it's the way you don't tell her that Tony Stark made fun of you for weird freshman.

And then things get much worse when you turn eighteen, because your friends start mocking you with the law on their side. And it's hard to concentrate on the good memories with Wanda while they tease and mock, and you want to go back to the car, but you have to smile and nod politely, because that's what they expect of you, and soon you're graduating.

You receive your acceptance letters from the universities, and you want to tell Wanda, but she is traveling with her family, and you are bored. And so you agree to celebrate with your friends who also got their letters, at some bar in town. When you start drinking, it's easy to dance and laugh all night, and when they tease you again, you want to leave, but there is a gentle touch on your shoulder. Sharon hugs you, and tells you that everything will be all right, that you should go out with someone who looks more like you, who is compatible, and when she says lots of sweet words, you want to remember smiles and stolen glances at school and gentle touches in your car, but your head is spinning and you accept her kissing you.

When you wake up, you are wearing no clothes, and there is a hand on your waist. You want to throw up, because even though you and Wanda never made a commitment, you feel the betrayal burning in your bones.

You want to yell at Sharon and tell her to leave, but then she's threatening you, with pictures you don't even remember taking. And when you get back to school, she tells everyone that you two are dating, and you wait for Wanda in the parking lot, but she doesn't show up.

You cry at your graduation, and not from happiness. And when the ceremony is over, you get in your car and drive one last time to Wanda's house, and you cry against the steering wheel. You are 18 now, with a diploma and a girlfriend. This is over, and you have to move on.

In college you meet someone who helps you, her name is Shuri, and after you have spent the whole first year being completely miserable, you have a literature assignment together. When you are going over the details of the presentation, at the third coffee meeting, you cry when you tell her about the photos.

- My girlfriend is blackmailing me. - You whisper, and she looks surprised for a moment, but then she hugs you, and assures you that she will help you.

There are police for a while, and then courts and court orders, and then therapy. You also make new friends now, good friends who don't judge or make fun of you. And then you pay attention in class again, and agree to join the track team.

You try not to think that there is only one thing missing in your life, because you have no right to disappear and go back to her life, but you can't help it missing her.

But you swallow your feelings, and try to pay attention to the future.

You come home in the fall, and your past comes back to you. You don't think you've ever talked much to your brother about school, but then you find yourself asking. And as he talks, you ask about Wanda.

- Wow, I remember her. - He says. - That girl you used to drive around with, right? - he asks and you nod. - I never understood why Sharon was so mean to her, but I guess it all makes sense now.

You blink in confusion.

- What do you mean?

- I thought you knew that story. - He remarked nonchalantly while you were in the kitchen, he was looking for cookies. - She used to say such bad things to Wanda, as if she was superior to her, you know? I think she acted completely different around you.

Your heart is racing. Confused and angry.

- Why didn't anyone ever tell me this? - You complain and your brother frowns.

- Look, it wasn't anyone's problem.

- It was my problem. - You retort. - I would have interfered, I liked Wanda!

Your brother is surprised by your outburst, but says no more. You drag your feet out of the kitchen.

You want to scream in anger, or punch Sharon in the face, but it's not mature and there's a court order. So you throw yourself on the bed, sinking your face into the pillow. When you fall asleep, you dream of Wanda.

On your last day at home, you know you shouldn't, but you drive to her house. You think your heart is going to burst out of your chest, but you swallow your nervousness and get out of the car. Wanda is on the porch, with her brother, and she looks surprised to see you. You assume that she didn't want to see you, but when she is close enough, she hugs you around the waist, putting her face into your chest. Your body instantly relaxes. You don't know if you're blushing from the hug, or from her brother's gaze on you, maybe a little of both, you think as you hug her back.

When you two are left alone on her veranda, you apologize for long minutes, because you're just sorry you lost her. But Wanda smiles, and holds your hand. And you are silent for a while, swinging your feet on the rocking chair. And then Wanda giggles.

- I got my driver's license. - She comments, and you let out a surprised and happy exclamation.

- Let's drive somewhere now. - you say excitedly. Wanda laughs.

- Where?

- Anywhere. - You answer already getting up, pulling her by the hand.

While you are in the car, she tells you that she is going to a university in the south, forty minutes away from yours, and you can't hide your excitement. And then you are turning on the radio and singing along with Wanda loudly as she drives down a highway.

When she drops you off, you exchange numbers, and you know that this time you're not going to let her get away.

You are busy with college. Very busy. But this time, there are messages and video calls from Wanda almost every day. And then she's in college, and she's just as busy as you are. And you start missing her a lot, and your friends comment that you should tell her how you feel.

So you're driving to her dorm, but when you get out of the car, she's arriving, distracted with some books.

You hug her from behind, lifting her slightly in the air, she is startled at first, but as soon as she realizes it's you, she laughs. She turns around quickly, hugging you by the neck, the books are pressed against you, but you don't mind.

- What are you doing here? - she asks with a smile. You think she looks beautiful.

- I miss you. - You say, making her blush. - Can we go somewhere?

Wanda thinks for a moment, but smiles.

- Sure, I just need to leave some notes with my roommate. - She says. - You can visit my dorm.

You nod, escorting her into the dormitory. When you walk in you try not to get too excited. Everything is so organized, even for a college dorm.

Wanda's roommate is not here, so she just leaves her notes on the desk while you admire her polaroid collection.

- Where did you take this one? - you ask, pointing to a photo where Wanda was wearing a sailor costume.

She walked from the table to you, and let her chin rest on your shoulder.

- At Sam Wilson's birthday party last year. - She answered, looking at the picture.

- You look nice. - You commented, letting your gaze wander to the other pictures. Then Wanda's hands encircle your waist, in an embrace, and you bite the smile from your lips. - And this one?

You point to a photo where she is with Pietro.

- Halloween. - She answers after a moment. - I think we were on the street outside the house. - You murmur in agreement, looking at the photos, and then Wanda is moving her face. - You smell good.

- Thank you. - You comment, ignoring the fast beating of your heart. And then your gaze catches an interesting photo. - Ulala.

Wanda looks at the photo you are reaching for with your hand, and lets out a sigh, hiding her face behind your back as she laughs.

- Wanda Maximoff in a bikini, world. - You playfully try to look at her, but she just lets go of the hug, hiding her reddened face in her hands.

You raise your hands to her belly, tickling her until she pulls her hands away from her face. And while you're laughing, Wanda tries to push you away, but you hold onto her waist, and you both end up falling onto her bed.

Your laughter slowly dies down, and you realize that Wanda is on top of you, your faces close together, and you swallow dry.

- I want to kiss you. - She confesses with reddened cheeks. - Is that okay?

You sigh and smile.

- Of course.

She smiles before bringing your lips together. It's as good as you remember, and then you're kissing until you're breathless, and Wanda sits on your lap at some point, and when your hands are on her waist and your fingers are through the fabric, you remember:

- I thought we were leaving. - You play out of breath.

- You're not going anywhere. - She replies with a smile and her lips swollen, before kissing you again.

Many dates happen after that, and two weeks later, you come back late from one of these, and you were planning something beautiful and impressive, but Wanda is smiling as she says goodbye and the words just slip out:

- Will you be my girlfriend?

Wanda blinks in surprise, taking her hand off the doorknob. And then she smiles, and advances against you, kissing you on the mouth.

-Of course, you idiot. - She says against your lips, kissing you again.

And you are smiling, and kissing. And you don't want to let her out of the car, but you do, knowing that she would come back.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #high school au

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mrsmaybank · 3 years

Text

Tate Langdon x Reader 18+

“Daddy?” Tate playfully questioned, “Does that make you my little girl?”

A/N: In honor of me rewatching Murder House, here’s some absolutely disgusting dead people sex. I know Tate is a horrible person, but he’s incredibly sexy. Sorry. He could kill me. LOL GIRL ANYWAYS SOOOOO... Also, does anybody know where I can find more stories like this? I could literally only find like two good ones. I barely write smut and I didn’t reread this so if it sucks, well my bad. Anyways, I hope you guys like!

TW: SMUT VERY VERY NSFW, DADDY KINK, HEAVY DEGRADATION, DEAD PEOPLE?, DRUGS, SPITTING KINK?? LITERALLY EVERYTHING, DON’T READ IT IF YOU’RE NOT INTO THIS KINDA STUFF!

TATES POV

“Only reason I haven’t killed her yet is so I can jack off to her while she showers.” I smiled as Y/N walked through the front door and up to her room. I was kidding of course. There was many things I wanted to do to her and murder her was not one.

“You’re a sick little fuck.” Hayden scoffed and walked away.

“You’re a whore. With daddy issues. Fucked an old married guy.” I whispered to myself. The house was “empty” now. Just me and Y/N. She was the only living soul there. Her parents were out, doing what I could care less.

I followed Y/N up to her room. She was sitting on the floor behind her bed, perched on the window sill, shoving pinches of grinded weed into a bowl. Her hair was a mess per usual. A wild but perfect mess of hair. I wondered if the ‘I-just-got-fucked’ look was on purpose, or she was naturally disheveled. She took off her sweater and grabbed a lighter from her purse, leaving her in a tiny black tank-top that left just the perfect amount to the imagination. Good god. Her tits looked sculpted by Satan himself, tasked to taint the minds of all thy tempted. I did my best to take a mental note of the sight. Her perfect lips attaching to the pipe, her chest rising and lowering with every inhale and exhale of smoke. “Fuck.” I sighed.

She twitched. Fuck she heard. I wasn’t paying attention to whether or not I was allowing her to hear me. She laughed to herself. “Fuck, I’m tweaked.” She plopped herself on the bed, my bed. And played a song on her laptop. It wasn’t music I was familiar with. It was probably new, but it was good. Very good actually. I confirmed she had good music taste when she hung up a poster of Kurt Cobain in her closet. I’d also heard her tell her friends she couldn’t wait to go to hell to fuck him. Her family was devout catholic. It’s weird though--it seems she believes everything the church says. However, the amount of disgusting things I witness that girl do on a daily basis leads me to believe she gets a kick outta being a sinner. She’s a pothead, once coke-whore, communist, cocksucking, intrepid, audacious bitch and yet--she’s beautiful and clever and kind to those who deserve it. I like her very much. I watched with wide eyes as her hand moved to her perfect tit, grabbing it harshly and massaging it until a tiny moan made its way out of her mouth. I wanted nothing more than to stop her, punish her for being a little slut and take her in every way I wanted, but obviously I could not. She slid her hand into her pants, moaning at the sensation of her own fingers. Jesus fuck.

I walked to her door. Opened it. Stood on the other side, closed it, appeared and knocked. “Dad?” she practically screamed. Not quite.

“No,” I laughed, opening the door to let myself in, “Neighbor.” I pretended to look surprised at her messy hair and big eyes.

“Did I interrupt something?” I questioned.

“No.” she said firmly. “But you’re not my neighbor.”

“Yes I am. I live in the house behind you. Makes you my neighbor.”

“How’d you get in?” She was scared, but not surprised.

“Someone left the back door open.” I bumped my head to the guitar of the song.

“This is great. Whose the artist?”

“Uh, Arctic Monkeys.” I laughed, “What a weird name. They’re good though.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“Yeah. What’s your name? I’m Tate.”

“Y/N.”

I got closer to the bed where she sat. Looking down at her as she looked up to me with doe eyes. “Y/N,” I tucked a hair behind her ear, “Are you--”

She grabbed my face and stuck her tongue down my throat. Horny little bitch. I pulled her hair back and detached her face, she needed to be put in her place. “God fuck Y/N.” She laughed and I laid her down on the bed, crawling on top of her. I smiled at her as she tugged on my shirt. “You’re such a bad girl. You’re really, really bad.” I kissed her this time, it was passionate and she would not stop tugging on the hem of my long-sleeve. I stopped for a second, panting. I went to kiss her lips again, but I changed my mind. I kissed her jaw instead, leaving sloppy kisses down her neck as she whimpered and mumbled. I was so busy with marking her neck I didn’t notice her hand slide down to grip me, that is, until I did. I moaned into the kiss, until she pulled away to whisper in my ear. “Fuck me daddy.” She smiled devilishly back at me.

“Daddy?” I playfully questioned, “Does that make you my little girl?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Now fuck me.” This time it was my turn to laugh, “No.” I pushed her back down and continued to kiss her. Exploring her mouth as I pleased until I pleased. I got up, dramatically taking off her pants to reveal the cutest, daintiest, black little panties.

“These are adorable.” I played with the hem, “Absolutely adorable.” She whimpered in desperation, “Please. Do something already.”

I traced my fingers lightly on her clothed cunt, noting the wetness that had gathered. I removed her tank top to reveal her bare tits, and god, how great it was to finally touch them. I made my way up her body, kissing up her stomach until I got to the place I wanted to be. I took one in my mouth and the other in my hand as she writhed under me in pleasure. Moaning and panting all ‘cause of me. It was cute. While my mouth continued it’s assault on her literally godly boob, I used the other hand to dip into her--soaking--pussy. “Fuuuckkk.” she threw her head back in ecstasy.

“You’re dripping like you’ve never been touched.” I told her. She only continued to whimper in response. I made her cum twice before I was so hard I thought I might finish before even getting inside.

I kissed her lovingly, her lips were swollen and there were tears in her eyes. “Is it too much baby?” I teased her clit before she could respond, she twitched but then to my surprise gained her senses. “Fuck me. Now.”

“Okay.” I aligned and entered. “Jesus christ.” I could barely speak. “You’re so,” I thrusted hard, “Fuck!”, I went deeper, “Tight.” I wanted, I swear to god I tried to be gentle at first, but between the absolute desire I had for this girls perfect body, the sound of her cute little whimpers and curses, the ripping my hair out, the fucking tightness of her pussy--I couldn’t. I rammed into that girl over and over, harder every time. She was purring like a little kitten, tightening around me every time I called her a little slut. She opened her mouth, practically an invitation for me to spit in it.

I slowed to a stop, my dick still completely inside her. She was a mess of course, a needy little mess that needed me to keep going, “Hey,” I calmed her down, “Hey.” I used a hand to gently caress her forehead. “Open your mouth.” She opened wide and I spat. Right in her mouth. She swallowed it.

I bottomed out and thrusted back into her and she screamed. “You needed to swallow something didn’t you?” She tightened and whimpered, “Hm?”, she clenched again moaning, but I wanted an answer. “Whore?” I shouted, fucking into her with literally every bone in my body.

“Yes, yes, please. I’m gonna--” That’s when my evolutionary senses took over and I felt the overwhelming need to fucking nut as deep in her as possible. I pushed into her deeper, feeling her walls spasm around me, “You want me to cum don’t you? Your pussy wants it. It’s practically milking my--” She clenched a final time and I fell into the ecstasy of orgasm. I fucked it into her a while, she came again. And all I could do was giggle to myself as I laid on her bare chest. Her painted black nails scratched at my scalp.

“Hey, Y/N? I’m dead.”

“Hey Tate? Me too.”

I got up to look her in the eyes, she was serious, and I was confused. As fuck.

#tate langdon #american horror story #ahs #tatelangdonim #evan peters #evan peters imagine #evan peters smut #evan peters fluff #tate langdon imagine #tatelangdonsmut #tate langdon x reader #american horror story imagine #ahsimagine #tatelangdon angst

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elriel-oblivion · 3 years

Text

I think it's been three days? Dunno, I don't keep track of day or night like I should lol but here's part three 😁 Next part up in five days so I can waste even more time before writing part six pft 😅 Thanks to all who interacted with the last post 😊🥰🤗

Word count: 3K. Lemme know if you'd like to tagged/removed 😊

Shoutout to @julesherondalex @verifiefangirl and @queen-of-glass for picking up on my fave paragraphs in the last part 😁😭 Can anyone do it again? Maybe I should make this a thing lol, shoutout to anyone who can find my faves. I think there are only two (or technically three?) this time 😅

Also, I'll prob put this up on AO3 this weekend, thanks to @acourtofcouture for reminding me 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part III

Warmth soaked into Azriel as Elain poured a jug of water over his head. His throat loosened as that warmth fluttered through his body, pulsing against those frozen veins and humming under his skin. Goosebumps tickled his arms.

But it was nothing compared to the sheer bliss that rippled through him as her fingers delved into his hair. It was an effort to restrain the groan reaching through his throat, so he let out a light sigh instead. He didn't think it prudent for Elain to hear him moan under her care. She was so kind to do this for him; he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

Two more jugs of water followed.

'Is that nice?' she asked, as though it could be anything but. It felt almost exactly like his mother's hands when she'd wash his hair in those so few minutes he was allowed to see her every week. Gentle and tender and pleasant.

He could fall asleep here if he weren't so aware of Elain in the room with him. Touching him. As it were, that warmth pulled deeper into him, loosing his muscles, thawing his bones.

'It is.' His voice sounded thick and he cleared his throat.

She was silent as her fingers worked, and after a minute or two, she rubbed soap into her hands. The scent of lavender filled the air. She massaged his scalp and lathered his locks, her touch so comforting it almost broke him.

Cauldron boil him, she was so much like his mother, right down to the scent of the soap she used. Her touch had just the right amounts of care and force as it worked across his scalp, relieving a knot of tension at the base of his skull.

His blood was now a soft thrum under his skin, that warmth guiding him further from consciousness, like he was wrapped in his shadows, safe from expectations, safe from judgement, safe from the world.

'Azriel?' came Elain's voice.

He jolted, eyes snapping open. 'Huh?'

She let out a light laugh. 'Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.'

Indeed, his shadows swirled around him, thickest by his eyes. 'Sorry,' he murmured, leashing them back in.

'Don't be. You can close your eyes again.'

As he did, he noted how soft her voice had been, the sombre touch to her words. She hadn't stepped away from his shadows. They must've been cold on her skin, but she'd made no comment. What did she think of them? It irked him not to know.

She continued her work, occasionally adding more water to his hair. Her fingertips rubbed his scalp, the cool night air touched with that lovely lavender.

Behind his closed eyelids, his mother smiled at him. Her smile was so sweet, so radiant and inviting, so homely that he wished he could freeze time to extend that one hour into eternity.

'You're so beautiful, my boy,' she whispered, her voice tender. Her arms were extended and he ran into them, savouring the comfort he found there. It was astonishing that he could experience this warmth after those long miserable days in that cell.

Those days. They often blended into each other, dark and dank as the cell itself. When he'd be taken to see his mother, light through the windows was painful as it pierced him. It was always too bright, the sun. Always too penetrating, like those rays sought him out to display all his wrongness - especially his shadows, a frenzied, wild and unchained beast before he learnt to control them. Terrible, dark magic not born of the Mother, his father constantly claimed.

And oh, how dark those shadows looked in the sunlight.

But then he'd be reunited with his mother, and her light was mellow. Soft like a caress, serene as sunset, always calming his hurricane of shadows. She bathed him in her light, let it wash over him with her smiles and kind words, ever flowing in their hours together.

He regretted most the little time he had with his mother growing up. Resented it, for it was neither of their faults. It was always too fast, that weekly hour, and when he was finally thrown in the Illyrian camps without a clue what his culture truly meant, it was eternities before he could see his mother again and bask in her soothing glow. Those times were long and cold, even with his found brothers by his side.

His mother's image faded into darkness as something soft touched his eye. 'Mother?' he rasped.

'No, it's Elain,' whispered Elain.

Elain? As he opened his eyes and blinked, his murky vision cleared and he found her staring down at him in her dim bathroom, brow creased. His shadows were everywhere but one of her hands held a fresh towel; the other hovered by his eye. He dispersed his shadows into clear air. What did she make of his address?

And was that salt he scented?

Cauldron, did he - did he cry?

'I asked you to lift your head but you'd fallen asleep,' Elain said. 'I didn't want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you'll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.' She frowned.

When had he fallen asleep? And how could it have been so sound a sleep that he didn't feel Elain finish? There must be magic in those fingertips of hers to relax him so deeply.

'Right,' he said, slowly sitting up. His neck was stiff and Elain reached behind to hold it as he pulled it forward. Water dripped down his temples, off his head, some drops pattering on the floor.

Elain patted his head with the towel, wiping his neck and forehead. She brushed wet strands away from his face, her focus so intent on his hair. He dropped his heavy head, and she gave the back a more thorough dry. A few minutes of ruffling his hair around, during which she pulled the towel from his neck, and she seemed satisfied. She raked her fingers through his hair, flattening the spiky mess he was sure sat atop his head, and a ripple of comfort descended through him. She discarded the towels on her bathtub.

As a thin breeze breathed over his wet head, he noticed the plants resting on small stools around the tub. How did he not see them earlier? Exhaustion, he supposed.

Blooms and vines overflowed their small pots, cascading down in bursts of bright colour. Three hanging baskets of what he smelled as rosemary lined the wall, wild green clusters of stems trailing over the edges and hiding the ivory stone behind. He wanted to touch all those soft petals and velveteen leaves, feel the depth of Elain's care through their touch.

He made to stand, but she held his shoulder. 'Wait,' she said. 'I want to clean your face, too.'

He'd forgotten about all the dirt she'd found there earlier.

She wet a cloth and knelt by his side, touching the cloth to his cheek, right above the gash that rogue Illyrian had opened earlier.

He winced, the skin tight where the mud had dried.

'Sorry,' she said softly, pausing.

With a smile, he gave her the same response she'd given him earlier: 'Don't be.'

Elain breathed a laugh and dipped her head. 'That cut does look very bad, though. I think I'll have to clean it with alcohol too.'

'Let's crack open that wine, then.'

She laughed again and blushed. 'Not tonight, Azriel.' And she patted his cheek again, rubbing off the dirt and blood.

The sound of his name on her tongue heated his blood. It wasn't that pleasant warmth as she'd washed his hair; no, this was something more charged. Something that settled his weariness into a quiet hum and left him a little more awake.

He drew in his shadows, sending them through his veins. The cool they delivered wasn't nearly enough to pacify his rising heartbeat. Not with Elain so close. If he moved forward just a few inches, there'd be no space left between them.

He didn't usually think of Elain like this. Think of the feel of her mouth on his.

He blamed the exhaustion, even as it hunkered down.

And - she was so lovely. And he was Azriel. He should be disgusted that he was here, letting her tend to him, making jokes with her, imagining them kissing. That was enough to tame his heart a while.

But Cauldron boil him. How would he sleep with his mind teeming with so much conflict. The dead girl and her family, his mother. Elain too now, whether he liked it or not. He'd hoped his physical fatigue would win over his crowded mind. That he'd get some proper rest and deal with all the rogue Illyrian troubles and whatever else later.

Apparently not this night.

As Elain stood and washed the cloth, he let out a deep breath through his nose, then shifted on the seat, hoping to put more space between them. Distance - even an inch - might be helpful.

Not that he'd make the first move.

He never did.

Elain knelt down again, wiping the cloth across his jawline, nose, cheek. He faced her to give her more access, but she kept her gaze intent everywhere except his eyes, as if cleaning his skin required her utmost focus.

Look at me, he almost said. With her so close to him, it was maddening not to share even an accidental glance.

She abruptly went to close the window, a heavier silence settling over the room, then moved to the cupboard by the door, pulling out a small bottle of alcohol. Her petite frame looked so delicate, yet a tautness relaxed from her body in the way her shoulders loosened. It was probably just her defence against the cold, though the temperature was nothing but mild to him.

She poured a few drops onto a clean cloth and took her place beside him. She cringed. 'This'll hurt.'

He smiled faintly. 'It's all right.' He doubted he'd even feel it.

She delicately touched the cloth to his cheekbone and he clenched his jaw, the alcohol harbouring more ire than he expected. Mother above, that was a deep cut.

Elain creased her brow and patted along the gash. 'Are you all right, Azriel?' Her voice was subdued.

The truth would be more painful to put out. 'I'm all right. Are you all right, Elain?'

'I'm fine.'

He doubted her just as she probably doubted him. The dark circles around her eyes were faint but still there. But theirs was a friendship of mutual respect and boundaries. If she didn't impose on his, he certainly wouldn't do so on hers.

But oh, how he wished she would feel comfortable enough to truly confide in him right now. It wouldn't be the first time she'd done so; he just needed to be patient. But he'd do anything to relieve the tension humming behind her eyes. From her manic visions, pain he knew lurked under her skin and in her mind, general exhaustion from keeping up appearances - he would swallow them all in his shadows and dispel them on the highest wind if it meant she would be all right.

They were silent as she finished up. When she washed the cloth, he turned in the seat and spoke. 'You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.'

She beamed at him and her eyes finally met his. 'I know.'

He stood, holding her gaze. Something was very off about that smile.

Her hands fiddled to turn off the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers. Her body faced his, and her smile fell, brows rising slightly. She cleared her throat. 'We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It'll be warmer there.'

In an instant, they were wrapped in shadows, her wrist in his hand, and the great living room came into view. A thin sheet of moonlight through the windows was the only illumination. Just as their feet found the floor, Elain bent to put three logs into the fireplace, lighting them after a few tries. 'Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren't they?' she said.

He huffed a laugh and rested a forearm against the mantelpiece, crossing a leg over the other. 'They can be.'

The blaze flared out and she stepped back, looking up at him through that shadowy amber glow. 'Just a few minutes now and we'll be warm.'

Her eyes didn't leave his. And how stunning they were, soft and subtle in the dim light. The brown looked richer among the warm tones of the fire, something like dark chocolate - or rosewood, perhaps, with a mahogany undertone.

'I think you'll need a bandage for that wound,' she said.

'I'll be fine without it.'

'It's quite deep.'

'Not a match for my Illyrian healing.' He smirked, trying to relieve whatever pressure thrummed in the air between them. He hadn't even noticed it come; one moment the air was clear, the next it was pulsing a steady beat. What the hell was this? Did she feel it too? He wished his shadows would just devour the tension, if only to reduce his own shame.

Her eyes flicked to his wings behind him, and they rustled, spreading a bit. He straightened. The heat in his blood turned to a simmer and he knew in his bones it had nothing to do with the fire. Why couldn't he control this? She met his eyes again.

He'd wanted to see her eyes on his, but now they were just too focused, and if she didn't stop looking at him like this, like she could see the blood beginning to bubble beneath his skin -

She cleared her throat and scanned his face, likely checking she hadn't missed anything. 'Oh,' she said, raising a finger to his temple.

Her touch on his skin sent his blood boiling. His heart was pounding a loud rhythm and because his mind was so muddled from the fight and the blood and his childhood somehow entering his conscience, and the lines between the past and the present were so blurred tonight, and this heat was just searing - he grasped Elain's wrist where it hovered by his face.

Her breath hitched, eyes snapping to his.

This was wrong, this was so utterly wrong, but he couldn't let go. What had he done?

She stared at him, through him. 'I can hear your heartbeat,' she choked out.

Through the crackling fire, she could hear him.

He was silent. His body tensed.

'And it's a beautiful sound.'

His pulse spiked like his heart sang out to her, called her name. Did she - could she - feel the same as he?

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

The air was stifling. Cursed flames. Every thought in his head narrowed to the girl before him. Her eyes glistened.

He wasn't sure he was breathing.

Was she?

Her eyes swept his face. They stopped at his lips.

'Are you going to kiss me?' she whispered.

So focused on her plump, rosy lips, he almost didn't hear the hiss of a log as it tumbled further into the fire. His throat bobbed. Maybe - just maybe this could be okay. Maybe if she wanted it as much as he did, he could put aside his own self-loathing for a moment. Elain was different, an essence of light in and of herself. Her core radiated brilliance; it'd take more than just a few of his shadows to snuff out her glow.

And damn the consequences anyway. The Azriel of later would deal with them. If he didn't burn alive here first.

He swallowed. 'Only if you want me to.'

'Yes.'

His chest tightened at the resolve in her tone. Yearning and compunction warred within. He craved her touch, yet disgrace corded his heart. How could he even think this could be fine? She would be poisoned, made impure by his mouth.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

She trusted him. He wasn't sure why, but she trusted him. What could he give in return? His scars? He lowered his gaze, her wrist still soft in his hand. He felt his arm move like a dead weight, but it was only the feel of her thumb on his brow, smoothing out the crease there, that mollified him, that unravelled and burned away that cord of disgrace. He released a long breath.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

And it was the clarity in her voice, the pure stability that had him leaning down - slowly, so slowly. Doubt flickered along his bones but he couldn't savour the anticipation enough. This moment would change their path for ever.

His heart thundered with every inch he yielded, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek, fingers setting so perfectly over the delicate plane of her face. Her breath stilled when he was but a whisper from her mouth, and he paused.

Her floral scent fanned him, melding with the smokiness of the flames. Was that datura he smelled? Those exquisite flowers he loved so much, with their large petals curling off in tapered tips so like his own shadows. The first memory he had of them, that conversation where Elain had grabbed his wrist.

He was still holding hers now.

Her doe eyes were so steady on his. 'Kiss me,' she murmured.

He closed his eyes and removed the space between them.

So much for never making the first move.

___

So what's your fave ice cream flavour?

Feedback, constructive criticism welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp

#elain archeron #azriel #azriel acotar #elriel #elain x azriel #acotar

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local-cry-baby · 3 years

Text

It's A Promise (Barry x Reader)

so sinnoh remakes (and premakes?!) has been confirmed and of course the first thing I had to do was write a short fic on one of my favorite rival of all time

Sorry but I had to ten year old me had a massive crush on this character lol

writing; short story

word count; 2781

genre; friendship & hurt/comfort (very subtle romance)

reader; gender neutral

au; takes place after the events of DPPt (also Barry has freckles if that counts)

summary; your plans for summer has been hijacked by a certain hyperactive boy

Image

Half asleep you heard the Starlys chirp and trill and the Kricketots chime in harmony with one another, announcing the arrival of morning. You shifted slightly in bed, pulling the covers closer to you and yawned. The best feeling in the world you believe was hearing the sound of the world rousing to the start of a new day and knowing you didn't have to wake up along with it. With a content sigh you roll on your side, slowly drifting off to sleep...

Tap! Tap! Tap!

You furrow your brows slightly at the sound but quickly relaxed, smiling softly to yourself...

TAP! TAP! TAP!

You assume it was just a Starly or two messing outside your window so you chose to ignore it, opting to pull the covers over your head. You sighed again, this time in annoyance, as you try to fall asleep...

Click! Scree!

"Psst! (Y/N), are you sleeping?"

Your eyes open in disbelief as you immediately recognize the voice and just process the fact that he happen to somehow open your bedroom window to ask the obvious. 'Say it ain't so.’ You turned to face your window to see Barry there, arms resting on top of the sill as he watched you with a curious expression which was soon beaming with excitement once he saw you. "Oh good, you're awake!" Like you weren't sleeping to begin with.

"Wha? Barry what are you doing here?" You asked groggily. "Aren't you suppose to be at Pastoria City with Wake?"

"It's summer, duh! Crasher Wake gave me the week off and since your school is closed for vacation I thought it was perfect to catch up and hang out together this week!" Barry had this lively vibe around him that practically made him glow like a ray of sun leaving you dizzy with exhaustion. You plop back in bed with a groan knowing your plans to sleep in till afternoon for the whole week was ruined. "So at first I was thinking of going to the Great Marsh like we use to for old time sake" Barry began as he climbed right in sitting at your windowsill. "But I heard today would reach the hottest temperature ever in Sinnoh history!"

"Really now?" You asked in a monotonous voice. How hot can it possibly be in the coldest region in the world.

"Get this, 72 degrees! Can you believe it?!" As someone who was born and raised in Hoenn, a region where temperatures can reach up to the high 90s during the late summer you weren't exactly impressed. "So change of plans! We're going to spend the day at Sandgem Beach so pack your things!"

You glanced at the digital clock on your bedside. It read 6:22AM. "Barry it's too early! Can't we go like at 10 or something?"

"No way! We have to go now otherwise it'll be full if we go any later!"

"When is Sandgem Beach ever full!? You can barely even call it a beach!" You turned away from your friend, wrapping yourself up in your blanket. You were not getting out of this bed.

"Come on (Y/N)!" Barry whined. "We haven't hung out in so long! I literally spent all night planning this week out and you're just going to turn me down?! If Lucas and Dawn were here they would've agreed in going!" You can hear the irritation in his voice but underneath it was a hint of dejection. Shortly after your journey with the trio came to an end things changed. Dawn moved to the Kalos region a year ago to continue her study on Pokemon and just a few months afterwards Lucas left to Unova for reasons unknown though you had a hunch that it had something to do with that officer Looker. Barry spend most of his days at Pastoria’s gym, training intensely with Crasher Wake. As for you your parents never supported your dreams of becoming a Pokemon Trainer and your battling skills were left to be desired so you dropped it to continue your studies and follow a more reasonable career.

Although you didn't look at him you can feel him gazing at you, presumably with a pout or with Lillipup eyes. You groaned in defeat. "Fine."

Barry barely let you finish your sentence as he responded, "Really? Awesome! Don't forget to bring your Pokemon along with you, alright? And don't show up late otherwise I'll fine you!" With that he jump out your window and let out a yelp. "Don't worry! I'm alright!"

You sighed, wondering how anyone could have so much energy so early in the morning as you practically dragged yourself out of bed to start the day.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Sandgem Town was quiet, the majority of the residents still asleep or just starting their day. You haven’t been in Sandgem in quite a while yet walking down the somewhat familiar road invoked a nostalgic feeling. You paused, looking at the houses on the street till you spot the familiar lab down the road. Professor Rowan’s lab. It almost felt like yesterday when you took your first step through Route 201 alongside your friends Lucas and Barry (although the latter practically raced his way there) to get here with your first Pokemon, Riolu. You couldn't help but smile at the memory before going on your way to Sandgem Beach. And, as you predicted, it was empty saved for Barry.

He stood at the edge of the boardwalk, his back facing you as he perform some stretching exercise. His team was already out of their Pokeballs, enjoying themselves. Infernape was meditating, Roserade, Snorlax, and Staraptor were sunbathing, Floatzel was swimming, and Heracross was attempting to bury itself in the sand, seeking warmth. Taking out three Pokeballs from your belt you released your team: Lucario, Lopunny, and Vaporeon. Your Pokemon looked around their surroundings before glancing up at you in surprise. When was the last time you actually brought them somewhere that wasn't home or your school’s campus? “Go on you guys. Have fun!” With that said your Pokemon went off to do their own thing.

Lucario sat beside Inferape, joining it in meditation and Lopunny bounded excitedly over to its long time crush, Roserade, the Bouquet Pokemon vastly annoyed that its peace was disrupted as it escaped from its crushing grip. Lastly, Vaporeon decided to take a swim, dipping into the ocean and blending itself into its surroundings, disappearing from sight.

The commotion between Lopunny and Roserade caught Barry's attention as he looked over to notice you. "Too slow!" He yelled running over to you. Not even giving you a chance to say something he grabs your arm and drags you over to the boardwalk. Once he lets go he begins to take off his shirt.

"Ready for what?" You asked.

“Barry!” You never saw your friend shirtless before so you couldn't help but feel flustered. Though he didn’t seem to care as he carried on anyways. As you assumed, Barry had a lean figure, what you didn't expect however was the amount of freckles he had. Although Barry had freckles dusting his cheeks and nose they were barely noticeable compared to the ones on his back and shoulders which were far more prominent. Realizing you were staring longer then normal you quickly turned away, trying to hide the awkward blush.

Luckily, Barry didn't notice. "Ready?"

"To swim!"

You look down at the blue water before dipping a bare foot in. It was ice cold. "It's freezing!" You exclaimed.

"It's not that bad!"

"Thanks but I pass" you said, waving a hand dismissively.

Barry pouted but it was soon replaced with a mischievous smile. "Alright then, suit yourself." He said, surprising you. Barry wasn't one to easily let things go without trying to convince you first. He's up to something, you know it. You were about to ask but he had already left your side as he jump right into the water, splashing you head to toe causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips from the sudden shock of being doused in icy water. Barry pop back up to the surface with a triumphant smirk, his bright eyes gleaming with playfulness.

"You suck!" You yelled causing him to laugh as he dived back underwater. Soaked to the bone there really was no point in staying out of the water in hopes of drying off soon, not with this cold breeze that made it impossible to warm up. You remove your hoodie and shorts revealing your (color) swimsuit before setting them down on the boardwalk and slipping into the water. Since you were already cold the frigid water didn't get to you, feeling more welcoming then before.

You looked around for your rival, trying to spot the blonde in the murky water but only saw his Floatzel which was lazily floating around. "Barry?” Something suddenly grabbed onto your ankle causing you to scream in surprise and flailing to get away, kicking away whatever touched you.

Barry appeared right beside you, clutching his left cheek. "Ow! Seriously?! You just kicked my face!"

"Well you shouldn't have grabbed me like that!" You said. He only stick his tongue out at you before swimming over to the boardwalk, crossing his arms and resting his head atop of it. You watched him as he stared up at the blue sky with a content expression, droplets of water clinging on to his hair as it shined in the morning light. Seeing him like this gave you the same flustered feeling from before. You couldn't quite wrap your head around as to why though. You’ve known him since kindergarten. So why all of a sudden you felt awkward around him?

"What’s up?" You didn’t even realize that he had stopped gazing up at the sky in favor of looking at you.

“What do you mean?” You said, turning elsewhere though it was in vain since he already caught you this time around.

“You were staring at me just now. It was pretty weird.” You try to think of something to say, mainly to defend yourself but to your relief he changed the subject. “So how’s school?”

You shrugged. “It’s alright. Senior year isn’t difficult compared to the other years since we’re more focused on applying for college.”

“Do you know where you want to go?” You noticed his words were a bit quiet and reserved unlike his usual chipper and noisy self.

“Well I was hoping to go to University of Unova since it’s known for having the best (career) course” you explained. “Though my parents aren’t too keen on me going that far so I might just stick to Goldenrod University.”

“I know that but...” He trailed off for a moment, thinking of what to say. “Can’t you just go to Canalave College instead?”

“Goldenrod!?” Barry’s sudden sharp tone made you flinch. “Why so far?” He was looking at you with a hurt expression that made you feel guilty despite the fact you didn’t do anything wrong. At least, you felt like you did nothing wrong.

“Well compared to Unova which is practically halfway across the world. Johto is just south of Sinnoh.”

“Barry, Canalave College doesn’t even have programs on what I’m going for.”

“Ugh, this is why I’ve always hated school” Barry grumbled, letting go of the boardwalk just to sink further into the water leaving just his eyes visible to you, glaring down at nothing in particular. He almost resembled that of a pouting child.

You didn’t understand why he was so upset about your plans or why he was trying to make you change your college decisions. Unless… “You don’t want me to leave?”

Barry barely let you finish your sentence as he quickly got up. “It’s not that!”

“Then what’s the problem?” You pressured.

At this point Barry wasn’t even looking at you, opting to just randomly glance around the area. “There is no problem! It’s just...” With a sigh he finally looked at you. Honey colored eyes stared at your (e/c) ones, his cheeks gaining a bright shade of pink. “I thought even though Lucas and Dawn left at least I still have you around.”

You couldn’t help but frown. You didn’t realize just how attached Barry was to you and the others until now. Naturally you felt bad but you certainly couldn’t change your plans for him either as much as it hurts you to see him like this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would be this upset about it but it’s just how it is. Eventually we have to go our own way to live our lives. Right now you’re training with Crasher Wake to become one of the best Pokemon Trainer ever. At some point you’re going to leave Sinnoh to follow that dream, right?” He remained silent but nodded in response. “Just because we’re not going to be together like old times doesn’t mean we’re no longer friends. You’ll always be my best friend no matter what.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I was being over dramatic.” You couldn’t help but smile when you saw his expression brighten. That was until he started giggling leaving you perplexed.

“Huh? What’s so funny?” You asked

“Sorry I just found the whole ‘you’ll always be my best friend’ bit kind of cheesy.”

“I was trying to cheer you up you douche!” You snapped unable to control your blush of embarrassment as Barry continued laughing. Seeking petty revenge you bought your fingers to your lips and let out a sharp whistle. Without warning your Vaporeon splashed out between you both before spouting water right in his face. He sputtered in surprise as he attempted to shield himself.

“So that’s how it’s going to be huh?” He challenged before calling for his Floatzel who immediately appeared by his side. Already getting the cue of what was going on the Pokemon retaliated by spraying sea water over you by spinning its propeller-like tails. Oh, it’s on now. Barry however was already a step ahead of you as he mounted onto his Pokemon’s back. “Good luck trying to catch me Slowpoke!” He taunted with a smirk before promptly swimming away from you. You knew Vaporeon was nowhere near as fast as Floatzel but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him get away so easily. You got on Vaporeon’s back and began swimming after the two, unable to contain the childlike excitement and determination you were getting from the chase.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

For the first time since you moved to the chilly region you truly felt the warmth of summer in Sinnoh. You and Barry sat on a bench right outside Sandgem Beach, not bothering to change out of your swimsuits as you ate popsicles and watch the afternoon go by. Residents glance at you both with odd looks since beachgoers rarely, if ever, visit their town but neither of you mind at all. After having that impromptu water fight you both decided to have a Pokemon battle, for old time sake. Of course you lost but you didn’t mind. Its been so long since you felt the fun and adrenaline that battles gave you that you completely forgot why you enjoyed them so much in the first place.

“Hey (Y/N)?” You looked at Barry who took a small bite from his orange creamsicle. “I know I said it was cheesy but is it true? I’ll always be your best friend no matter what?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” You had just finished your (flavor) popsicle, dumping the stick in the trash can beside you. He remained silent and although he said he was fine you notice still a hint of sadness in his expression as he stared off in the distance. Placing a hand on his shoulder you diverted his attention to you as you beamed at him. “It’s a promise.”

There was a sudden shimmer in his eyes and you wonder if he was tearing up when he quickly rub at them. “It better be otherwise I’ll fine you ten million PokeDollars if you replace me!” You couldn’t help but giggle, Barry joining in.

“So what’s the plan tomorrow?” You asked.

“Well I was thinking the Great Marsh maybe. If you’re fine with that.”

You nodded. “I bet I can catch more Pokemon then you.” You smirked when his smile faded into an annoyed expression.

“As if! I’m totally going to kick your ass!” He said swatting away your hand when you attempted to ruffle his hair just to irk him.

Needless to say, you were pretty glad he woke you up this morning.

#pokemon #pokemon writing #pokemon x reader #barry x reader #pokemon dppt

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belleta · 3 years

Text

The Forest - Part One

Consists: Supernatural, SKZ as different SN creatures, adventure, romance, drama, action, ......still trying to figure out all the details....lol XD

"Come on Y/N!", I was racing around the house. Trying to make sure I had everything for this trip. "Omg Y/N, let's GO~!" I swear to the universe she's going to thank me later. " I'm coming child!" I screamed back. Alrighty I just need my retainer. I bounded up the stairs and glided down the hallway with my cotton socks. Bursting into my room, I quickly scanned it for the sparkly emerald case. I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye, "Boom!" I ran forward and snatched it off my windowsill. While leaping for my door, I paused and turned back to what I call my sanctuary. Call me paranoid but I'm kinda afraid of camping in the middle of the woods. Ever since I watched "The Blair Witch Project", I've been creeped.

It doesn't help that Jazzy forced us to watch the film, previous to this morning. I was drifting in the fairy floss clouds of my mind when a loud honk poured water on them. I sucked in a breath, blowing raspberries. Padding back over to my bedside, I grabbed my Ice Bear plushie. Giving it a quick squeeze and finally deciding that he's coming with me. Galloping back through the house, I made it out, locked the door and hopped in the back seat like a spring rabbit. "What took you so long?" I gazed up through my fringe at my girl bestie Jazmine. She had long beautiful honey blonde hair, and a mousy nose. Her blue eyes were alike with pebbles under a lake, with cheeks connected by a dash of light freckles. "I swear I just aged waiting for you" and Danny, our guy bestie. I've been best friends with Danny, since 3rd grade. Jazzy moved over during the 5th grade. All three of us have been with each other through thick and thin. Daniel was Hawaiian Japanese descent, had perfect colorful nails and absolutely gorgeous eye makeup. We were all dressed in casual, comfy clothes for the trip. Jazmine, or Jazzy as people call her, as the oldest. She was driving Danny's dad's truck. It was spacious and definitely was fit for the environment. Danny, second eldest was in shotgun and I, being the "baby", was in the back. "I was just making sure I have everything." The two rolled their eyes. Danny looked back at me "Girl, you need to chill. We've got everything and more" the boy stated. "I know, I know.....I'm just paranoid, you know.....being in the woods for a week" I looked down at my feet and played with my fingers to cover my embarressedness. "Awww, is the baby scared", Jazzy giggled, imitating a child. I swatted at her, "Let's just...finally go" I grumbled, reaching inside my bag to pull out my headphones. "Fine" they answered teasingly. While Jazzy was pulling out, I fastened myself and slid my headphones on. Bluetoothing them and unlocking my phone, I scrolled through my YouTube Music playlist finding the one named 'Bell Mix'. After that, I went back to the truffula trees and fairy floss. Just listening to my music and thinking about things. There were a couple times, where I thought I might get sick, but I had remembered my motion sickness bracelets. In your face! It's better to set out a little later, rather than having our vehicle reeking of my insides. 2 or 3 hours went by, or something. I'm not really sure, my brain doesn't really have a sense of time when I'm inside of it. We stopped to use the bathroom, get food and fuel at a gas station, maybe 2 hours away from the forest. "Can I, can I, can I, can I PLEASE?!?" I had been begging Jazzy to let me buy a bag of Haribo for 10 minutes now, and she was starting to break. I'm very persuasive as you find out, and I happen to be a very prominent weakness to many throughout my life. She finally gave in and I bounced away to the candy isle with glee and happily picked out a bag, promising to share. Jazzy just rolled her eyes and paid for our things. We trotted back to the car and continued our journey. It was nearing the end of 2pm when we finally arrived at the edge of the forest. It's lushes were absolutely perfectly splendid. The road continued for a hot minute, until it gave away to dirt and rocks. We didn't want to stray too far from the dirt road, so we slowly kept moving in until I suddenly exclaimed at the sight of a pretty little clearing. It had a few little bushes marking the edges, thick but soft looking grass, and a little dirt patch at one side that should be perfect for a firepit. We pulled over to take a look around, flattening a few bushes in the process. As soon as the truck came to a stop I shoved the door open and sprung down onto the flourishing forest floor. The first thing I did was take a deep breath to soak in the sweet scent of the untouched earth. I reached up, stretching and cracking a few of my bones in the process. Then I raced through the trees and undergrowth, toward the beautiful glade. It felt so nice to get away from civilization, I had always loved

getting away like this. Being able to recharge away from annoying people and sounds, my fears of the night were long forgotten. I was two steps away from the grass when I suddenly tripped over something. Tumbling forward and scratching my cheek. I landed on my face, but on the bright side it was luckily with no rocks around. The dirt however spared me at nothing, crawling into my fresh scrapes, was a sharp and quick stinging as I grabbed my face. "Seriously Y/N, we haven't even completely left the car yet and you've already managed to hurt yourself" Jazzy declared. Danny chimed in, "Did you hurt yourself at all?". Quickly inspecting myself, I responded "Yes, a tiny bit on my cheek, hands and knees", I could hear them muttering to themselves about how reckless I was sometimes. They started toward me and as I waited for them to catch up, I decided to look around and figure out where to put things for these next few days. While ogling the decently wide stretch that was conveniently shielded by a mighty sugar maple. I thought I saw something in the undergrowth a few meters away from me. I grabbed my glasses and narrowed my eyes, but right when I thought I saw whatever it was, two flashes shot in the opposite direction between the ferns and disappeared. They were kinda hidden but I could sorta make out one of the shapes was darker and slightly bigger. The other was a little bit easier but still was difficult, it was kinda brown, or maybe reddish? At that moment I felt two hands on my shoulders, "Let me see", it was Jazzy. She inspected my injury. "It'll be fine, just wash it off", "Okie-Dokie-Artichokie", she laughed and ruffled my hair. I gazed back at where I saw the two shapes but not even the bushes were still moving. "Hey!" I cocked my head back to the voice "Can you help me?" Danny was struggling to unpack from the back. "Sure thing Danny-O" I quickly stood up, maybe a little too quick. My vision went funny and I almost stumbled. "Oh my god Y/N! Be careful!" Jazzy scolded, "My bad!" I was a little all over the place at the moment. Finally we were on this trip! I mean, I waited 6 months for this and it's finally here! I'm not all childish, I'm actually very 4D. I'm just really excited okay? I more carefully walked back to the truck, where Danny was struggling to keep ahold of what appeared to be the tent. Over the course of the next hour and a half we set up everything. Goofing around and laughing. Danny had been pulling too hard on our sleeping bags, to wedge them out of the trunk. And had accidentally fallen onto the slightly wet dirt, causing a very prominent brown streak across his gray sweatpants and sky blue tie dye hoodie. I was currently on my way to find the stream that is supposably close by, with a screenshot of google maps and a compass. Service wasn't exactly a 5 star out here, but I didn't mind too much. I brought a portable WiFi router with me, so if Jason Vorhees just decided to pull one, we could call for help. Every so often I would hang a wooden heart ornament on one of the tree's branches, so if this was the correct way then we would never get lost. Also so that I didn't get lost right now. I had been making these last night, for these exact reasons. I swear only dumb people don't mark their surroundings, this is one of the main reasons why people disappear and are never found or get lost. There are no traces of where they've been, like these fruit loops really-...... After about another 20 meters I started hearing the sounds of water. It became louder and louder really quickly. Is there a waterfall here? I pondered, while quickening my pace with curiosity. 35 seconds later I came across a thinning in the trees and beyond a clear water stream. I finally broke out of the shelter provided from the thick leaves, the sun kissed my skin with it's warm touch. I looked around and sure enough, there was a small waterfall that looked straight out of a fairytale. It had multiple uneven levels, with smoothed boulders everywhere. And to top it all off, it had little water plants scattered around it. Absolutely

beautiful.... I scanned around and spotted a few giant boulders poking into the stream. I carefully picked my way over to them, clutching onto Danny's muddy clothes. Hopping onto the sunlight warmed stones, I positioned myself perfectly so that I could reach the water but wouldn't fall in. I reached into my pocket for my zip lock of natural soap, of course I didn't want to hurt this literally untouched land. I leaned down to dunk the fabric into the stream's crystal-like water and kneaded the brown smudge. It was decently cold, just perfect for a stream. I turned back to the small bag with a green bar wrapped with brown paper and a little herb decoration. I unzipped it and reached for a tiny hand towel I brought with me so that I would have a better grip on the soap, even if I got wet. After dunking the clothes in I took the bar of soap and swiped it all over. I dipped it into the water once to help the bubble come, then I started aggressively rubbing it. Once the outfit was foaming with suds, I slapped it into the brook. Holding onto the sleeve I rub it harshly all over to get the stains out. It was relatively still easy because the events of cause were only moments before. I was starting to disappear into my thoughts, getting deeper and deeper and deeper....... And just then a crash and from the trees, followed by snarls and barks. I was so lost in my thought that this jolted me into the canal. The water suddenly became ice cold, my scream had been washed away. A surge of water filled my lungs from the way my mouth was open to yelp. I could still hear the sounds of fighting every so often, when I would surface. My head was hurting, my skin was stinging and my lungs were screaming. Someone.....please help..... It was hurting so much, I was trying not to panic. So I could find the surface and get back to shore. I would break through it's crisp arctic clutches every so often and would cry out for help but then get cut off by the now frosty darkness. I was giving up to the stream and submitting to the coldness. Letting it swallow me whole. I was numb, I couldn't feel my body being thrown around anymore, Is this how my story ends? No! I don't want to! I still have things to do! I need to graduate, and find my passion! I need to find a man who will love me as much as I do! I need to birth young and care for them! I want to grow old with my partner happily! I can't die yet! I just can't! But it was just so cold. I had stopped moving violently, so I guess I had been poured into a lake or something. I didn't care anymore. My blood felt frozen, I couldn't even bend a finger. That's when I felt a force near me, it parted the waters. Moving me in a different direction with its power. Then not long after I felt something grab hold of me in an awkward way. I was starting to be pulled into another direction, as the water streamed around, parting to let me and whatever that was saving me through. Then I broke through the surface and that was the last thing I felt before slipping into a comfy unconsciousness.

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cham-chammity · 3 years

Text

BlitzStrike Smut Oneshot ;-;

AHAHHAHA OMG so I saw this amazing drawing of Striker in a swag leather outfit and I am totally about to write a seggs scene of Blitz and Striker off of it ;-; I would share the image but out of respect I know some people dont appreciate their art being sexualized, althooouuugghh I did a quick google search of the outfit items so yall can get a better understanding of what Striker's outfit looks like~~

Aaaaaand so basically I think this made a wonderful smut starter for the two XD enjoy lol enjoy bottom Striker cause we don't have enough of him

*******

Blitz lazily stumbled through his apartment door, throwing his keys and phone on the counter. He headed straight for the fridge, grabbing himself something cold to drink. A long day of work, and nearly a week since he'd last seen his mate, Striker. As tired as he was, he recieved a text from the imp earlier, making him eager and excited.

Be quick to get home, sugar. I'll be waiting~

Since Striker was out on a hitman job it'd been awhile since the two were able to do anything... physical together. (And yes, almost a week without non-phone sex was a long time for them.)

Blitz took a few chugs of his soda before trashing the can, and took off his shoes and jacket as he headed for the bedroom.

"Striker, I'm home!"

"I'm in the bathroom."

Blitz followed the sound of his mates voice through the bedroom and towards their conjoining bathroom. Before he reached for the door knob the door itself opened and Blitz's jaw dropped.

Striker had tight, short black leather shorts on with a fitted black leather jacket. His rock hard abs were exposed to the open air with nothing underneath the jacket, and he had a black o-right choker around his neck.

"I don't get how you wear these all the time," Striker adjusted the choker that was securely tightened around his neck. "I feel like I'm gonna unintentionally choke myself to death--"

Striker's eyes momentarily widened as Blitz aggressively yet subtly pulled Striker close to his face by the ring on the choker. He quickly shifted his expression to a more seductive gaze as Blitz looked him up and down, soaking in the sight of Striker in front of him.

"My hell, babe, you look sexy as fuck," Blitz's breath was hot against Striker's neck. He breathed in a sharp breath as a red finger dragged itself down the side of his face.

"Oh, yeah? Does my new outfit turn you on, sugar?"

"Oh fuck yeah. I might as well fuck you right through those tight shorts of yours."

"Talk about tight~" The two went in for a deep, hard kiss. Their tongues went right for each others mouths as they wrapped their arms around each other, pressing their warm bodies together. Blitz brought a hand down and tightly squeezed Striker's ass, earning a moan against his mouth in response. Never letting go of his grip on the choker, Blitz moved his free hand slowly to the growing buldge at the front of Striker's shorts. He ever so lightly rubbed his crotch. Striker moaned louder and made an attempt to grind up against Blitz's hand, but whined as Blitz pulled away.

"Ah, ah, ah, Stinker. Be patient with me babe."

Striker growled and met his lips with Blitz's again. Blitz led them to their bed, never breaking contact, and sat down as Striker eagerly staddled him.

"No--" Blitz pushed him off and forced him down on his knees. "You're gonna suck my dick like it's the last cock in hell."

Striker's eyes widended. "But Blitz I--" the Envy imp was cut off as Blitz pulled Striker by the choker to his face, yanking harder this time.

"Gag reflex? I know," Blitz gave Striker an evil grin. "Now won't you be a good boy and suck off daddy for me?" Striker tensed under Blitz's grip and narrowed his gaze, but nodded. He watched as Blitz stripped off his shirt and pants with his underwear, his large, patchwork cock springing out. Blitz took Striker by the horns as the paler imp slowly took the full lenghth in his mouth inch by inch. He started bobbing his head, trying to relax his throat as much as possible. Blitz started to thrust, gagging sounds gurgling up in Striker's throat. With that he face-fucked him harder, tightening his grip on Striker's horns as he came closer to cumming.

Striker's throat burned and he desperaely wheezed for air. Giving in he did the signified two taps on Blitz's leg, tapping out of the blow job. Blitz immidiately stopped and gazed down at Striker as he gasped for air and coughed.

"You ok?"

After catching his breath Striker rubbed his throat as he looked up at his mate. "Yeah, yeah. Bit too much for me. You're the blowjob master here," Striker weakly grinned up at Blitz.

"Hah! Well, you got good hands. Why don't you use them, cowboy?" Blitz leaned backed and supported his weight with his arms.

Striker chuckled and shook his head. "As you wish, b--, daddy."

The gruff, aroused voice of Striker's made Blitz squirm as the cowboy wrapped a hand around Blitz's cock and started stroking.

"Mm, yeah buckeroo, you know how it's done," Blitz breathily praised Striker as he started to buck his hips up against Striker's grasp. Eventually Blitz finally had his sweet release, slightly tilting his head back and letting out a deep throat moan. Striker's hand was coated in white as Blitz bucked through his orgasm. Once he finished he bent down and took Striker by the choker again.

"Guess we don't need the lube now we've got my sweet juices to pound your ass."

Striker grinned as he stood up and was finally able to straddle Blitz.

"Ya want me ta bounce on yer dick like I'm ridin' the most furious rodeo-bull in town, bossman?" Striker leaned down and gave Blitz a deep, heated kiss as Blitz ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh fuck yeah, babe. I fucking missed you."

"So did I, darlin'," Striker muttered as he started passionately kissing Blitz again. Blitz slid his hands up Striker's firm torso and slipped his leather jacket off, tossing it to the floor.

Striker whined as he started grinding up against Blitz's hips, the tightness and friction making him harder by the second.

"Mm-- Fuck, Blitz I-- I need it--"

"You need what, babe? Tell me what it is and maybe I'll give it to you," Blitz whispered against Striker's neck before licking from the collar bone up his neck.

"Just fuck me! I need it! I need your cock in my ass so bad right now!"

"If you so desperately need it, Stinker,"

Striker sighed in relief as Blitz undid his belt and unzipped the tight shorts.

"What? You went commando?? That's my thing!"

Striker chuckled as Blitz tore his shorts the rest of the way off. Striker sat up taller on his knees, keeping a steady grip on Blitz's shoulders as Blitz spat on an scissored two fingers inside his hole.

"Nngh, ah," Striker painfully moaned as Blitz finger-fucked him. Blitz soon added a third, going deeper but not hitting his sweet spot just yet. Once he felt he was loose enough, Blitz took out his fingers and Striker's hips were guided down on the crimson imp's dick.

The feeling of being filled made Striker hitch his breath in pleasure. He started to rock himself on Blitz's dick, grunting and moaning at the feeling.

Blitz met Striker's thrusts with his own, quickly forming a brutal pace as he tried to aim for Striker's sweet spot.

"Ah! Hah, hah, harder! Harder Blitz pound my ass harder!"

Blitz obliged and placed both of his hands tightly on Striker's hips.

"Right there! Right there, darlin, fuck!"

Keeping the angle Blitz continued to hit Striker's sweet spot dead on. Striker's grip on Blitz tightened. He was close. He found himself grinding his hard-on agaisnt Blitz's stomach. He felt a lenghtly tail wrap around his cock, moaning louder--and more high pitched--as Blitz stroked him with his tail. Blitz had never heard him moan like this before and fuck was it hot.

"C-close! I-I'm so close Blitz! Fu-ck!"

"Striker! I love you! H-holy shit!"

Both imp's visons whited out as they came together. Their hips and lips sloppily met as they rode out their orgasms, the room filled with the sound of their pleasure-filled screams and the squeeking of the bed beneath them.

Panting, Blitz fell on his back as Striker collapsed next to him. Their tails subconsciously intertwined as their heavy breathing slowed. For awhile they sat in silence, the afterglow of their highs washing over them in a sweet bliss. At one point Striker managed to take off the choker, it was way too tight for his taste.

"I love you too," Striker broke the silence as he lovingly gazed at Blitz. Blitz smiled and scooched himself closer to Striker, cuddling up with his mate.

Striker cuddled himself in as well, their bodies respectively intertwining as they ignored the sweaty, sticky mess of their bodies.

"Dear Satan, I've never heard you get vocal like that before."

Striker blushed as he kissed Blitz's forhead. "Well I ain't ever bern fucked like that before,"

Blitz smiled and kissed Striker's chest in return. They sat silently for another few minutes.

"No more week long jobs. It's too long."

"Agreed."

With no other commentary Blitz purred as Striker gently rubbed circles below his spines. Soon enough they passed out, sleeping deeply in their lover's embrace.

~~~~~~~

This took my way longer to write than it needed to be it's almost midnight and i have school tomorrow wtf

#blitzstrike #helluvaboss fanfiction #helluva boss #blitzo helluva boss #striker helluva boss #striker x blitzo #blitzo x striker

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hange-zone · 3 years

Note

Can I please have more eremin? The way you write down armin's thought is just *chef kiss* hopefully canon since I am feeling so emotional for the end.

mild snk 139 spoilers!

In the moments after Mikasa had disappeared into the titan’s mouth, its body had stilled and collapsed against his. Armin pulled himself out, tearing away the red tendrils from his steaming skin, and skimmed across the mass of sinew and flesh, down the neck and arms of his titan, right to where Eren was. As he approached there was a low, resonating sound that washed all over the cavern of the Founder’s chest, and the moment his hands grasped its exposed bone he felt the wind knocked out of him and everything went black.

The first thing he noticed when he came to was that the roaring sound had grown louder. It was all around him now, and as he opened his eyes he realised it was the crashing of waves along a moonlit beach. Eren was waiting for him in the pale light, his features softened in its glow and long hair blowing gently in the salty breeze. He was sitting among the waves as they rolled in and out along the shore, legs splayed out in front of him and leaning on his hands. The waves curled back and the rivulets of receding water were drawing his outline across the sand. He looked small and stark, an ink-stain against the white expanse of the sandy beach.

When he saw Armin he merely tilted his head to the side, motioning at the space beside him. The other boy sat down wordlessly in the shallow water. The foam-tipped waves snuck past his ankles and up his legs, soaking his clothes. He felt his skin chill as the water drew back, and then after a breath it was flooding him again, drawing up and around him, around them, as they sat together among the waves.

Eren was the first to speak.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he said, voice wavering. “I can’t go back —”

“No,” Armin said, even if he knew it was a lie.

The other boy shook his head wordlessly.

Then, almost to himself, very quietly: “But this is what I wanted, wasn’t it? I said: When I heard about the people beyond the walls I was disappointed…” he faltered, “…I thought I wanted freedom for its own sake-”

And then he stopped in surprise, because Armin had reached over and laced their fingers together. Then, the other boy’s blue eyes urging him on, he continued: “But that wasn’t freedom - no, not for its own sake, I wanted freedom to - to do things with it. To live a long life with friends, find love, give love…”

At his words Armin tightened his fingers around the other boy’s and he felt Eren grip his hand harder, his own fingers curling into the back of Armin’s soft palms.

“And seeing everything - the past and future and standing in the stream of time? I could only watch myself. I don’t know if I chose, not properly. But I’m choosing again now. That this is how it ends. I’m not asking you to forgive me - and it’s a mess and I’m sorry you and Mikasa are always left cleaning that up. I just hope you make the best of this. That…you make my death mean something. Can you do that for me?”

He bit his lip, hard, and looked out to meaningfully to the dark water. Armin could see that his eyes were also dark and wet. The endless expanse of water with its rolling waves was reflected in them.

Armin took a long, slow breath as he thought over what exactly the boy was asking. “Yes,” he said finally, and felt Eren relax just a little in his hands, even if both of them were trembling.

And they talked: about everything, about what it was like to be children again, what they imagined the lands of fire and ice to be like, what they were going to tell Mikasa and Jean and Connie and Levi and all the ones who were left. Their words blended into the night and it was like old times again, under the shade and sprawling branches of the rain tree behind their houses. Lying in the warm afternoon sun and speaking about the future. Speaking about anything they wanted.

Soon the edges of the ocean were beginning to light up, the first rays of dawn peeking over the horizon.

Eren flicked his gaze to the shimmering waves and then to Armin’s.

“It’s time to go,” he said, and Armin nodded.

Eren stood up first, pulling the other boy to his feet, still holding his hand like he had so many times, so many years ago, and lead him deeper into the water’s embrace. The rhythm of rolling tide matched the even rise and fall of their chests as it drew close around them.

The waves had been calm before, but as they stepped deeper the water began to get choppier. Still they walked on, hand in hand, slowly, until it was right at their chests, until it was dark and churning, washing over their faces and they were left gasping in between breaths. Armin licked his lips and wiped the back of his palm across his face with his loose hand. His eyes were wet and stinging, and he couldn’t tell if the salty wetness against his skin was the ocean or his tears.

Amidst the currents he felt Eren give his hand a hard squeeze, before loosening his grip. But Armin was the first to let go, and the other boy copied his motions, warm touch lingering for a second before the cold water ran between his fingers. He watched Eren took another step away, watched as a dark wave rolled by and swallowed him up, a mop of brown hair and familiar grey-green shirt lost among the swirling, inky waves.

Armin took a big breath, careful not to inhale the seawater, and stepped backward slowly to shore, gaze fixed on horizon. He looked on as Eren’s tiny form drifted further and further out until he couldn’t spot it anymore, lost among the roiling waves.

When his feet found the sand the waters were calm again, the ocean wavering and caught up in the gentle light of dawn. He threw himself back onto the sandy shore, chest heaving, and drew his knees to his chest. Armin closed his eyes, focusing on the roaring and crashing of the waves which seemed to swell and consume him.

When he opened them again, his knees were still curled against his chest but the ground was mud and firm underneath him. His eyes were wet as he let his gaze trail up, along the forms of the titans - their titans - before him, taking slow breaths as he looked at the scene in front of him.

Rising above the mist were two smouldering colossi. Once locked in combat, they were now slumped against each other in an embrace.

----

hello anon - thanks for this and you’re too kind...i’m glad i do him justice, he’s my favourite:”) here you go & i put it on ao3 - which is a bit better bc you can contextualise it, but anyway if not i recommend it goes with this.

and I was thinking about this last night so thanks for giving me an excuse to indulge in this. Also my comprehension sucks I thought you meant eremin for the end lol so…this was made…and (bad) excuses on my part again but this is not exactly canon...but it is a loose interpretation of or riff on canon events and it is personally how i’d like to see it end? More thoughts under the cut bc i’m sure you’d appreciate being spared more messy snk discourse:”)

Their entire conversation’s hard…would love to flesh it out more but that requires more emotional energy I currently don’t have, just know that I think of this scene as 1) armin doesn’t condone what the other boy’s done, it’s a terrible thing, just that it’s now happened and he has to work with that. And 2) this is eren saying sorry he was not the leader, he was small and scared the whole time, and 3) his act of going into the sea is that of relinquishing control, but in that moment it’s a truly free choice as well when he lets armin let him go. just wanted to clarify bc I think negotiating the ending is hard! And I don’t want it to be misinterpreted because these are similar problems from what I’ve heard about the canon ending. Anyway, hope that suffices. I’m such a sucker for metaphors and the like, and I’m personally very excited by the idea of the ocean and what people have done with it :)

#snk 139 spoilers #snk 139 #snk spoilers #eremin #ocean!#beach!#eren #armin

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fanfoolishness · 3 years

Text

Orphans (The Mandalorian)

(Three of y’all wanted Din & Boba Fett, so I combined your requests into one story because to be honest I think I have no idea how to write him! That’s probably enough Boba for one weekend, LOL. For @healingdays, @innitmarvelous2 and Anon!

Din and Boba have a talk by a fire. Platonic, a little angsty, set just after Tython, 1200 words.)

***

At least there was this, then, battle: the brutal and elegant dance of blows struck and bolts fired, the song of pumping blood and pounding heart. In this Din could lose himself for a time, his focus shrunk down only to this moment, this second, this instant.

He grunted, taking a blow that rattled his beskar; blocked and parried, shoved back, struck deep with his spear, finished with his fist. Felt the crunch of bone beneath his balled hand, breathed deep of the gasp his enemy huffed into the cold night air. There was safety here in the thin line between victory and defeat, and he leaned into it with every fiber, muscles heart gut brain a singular deadly unit.

And then what he’d been dreading came upon him: the silence, the echoing ring of the final blow. He stood over his fallen opponents, stormtroopers still and broken in the night. Sweat streamed down his face, soaking his collar, slicking the inside of his helmet.

Beside him, Boba Fett slung his gaffe stick over his shoulders, tilting his helmet toward Din. “You do good work, Mandalorian. Pity they had no information for us.”

The adrenaline leached out of him, leaving in its place a humming hollowness. “I knew Gideon would be hard to find,” he said gruffly, disappointment clinging to him as bitterly as the sweat. “I might be able to find another lead. Let’s get back to the ship.”

“Fennec’s taken it for repairs, remember,” said Fett. “Won’t be back for a few hours yet. We may as well find a place to hole up for the night.”

Din sighed. How had he forgotten their earlier discussion? He blinked. Perhaps the lack of sleep was catching up to him. He hadn’t slept for more than broken snatches since Tython. Sleep meant quiet, and quiet meant room to think, and that meant missing him, meant worry, fear, barely-contained panic --

“Fine,” he said. “But we’re gone as soon as the ship is free.”

***

The forest was alive and buzzing in the moonlight, creatures singing their night-choruses and buzzing their thoughts into the still spring air. Din ignored them, sitting at the edge of the fire across from Fett. Periodically he lifted his helmet, just slightly, to take a few drinks of water or a bite of the rations Fett had brought along. Fett’s helmet rested on the ground beside his feet, and he ate and drank openly, the shadows on his bare face stark in the firelight.

“So,” said Fett, cocking his head to one side. “Do you have a name?”

Din shrugged.

Fett quirked a brow. “You don’t want to say it? Or you’ve forgotten it?”

“It isn’t necessary.” He relented, Fett’s direct stare boring into him. “Usually people call me Mando.”

“Not exactly a flattering name, especially these days.” Fett shook his head. “I suppose it’s your business. But we might be working together for some time. A name might help.”

Din bristled. “Moff Gideon could be experimenting on the child as we speak. I don’t have the luxury of time.” Anger flared within him, a sick heat in his belly, and his hands tensed into fists at his side.

“I understand,” said Fett. There was an intensity in his naked eyes, a fierceness that left Din taken aback. “There will always be those who play such games.”

“It isn’t a game -- he could kill him --” No, don’t think about that, you’ll find him in time, you must --

“You misunderstand me,” said Fett, back to being as unemotional as ever. “In battle, sometimes terrible things are done for good reasons. I’m sure you’ve faced this yourself. It comes to all of us in time.” He took a drink of water. “But sometimes there is no battle. Sometimes there are only cowards, doing terrible things without cause, and somehow, they never see themselves the villain.” He fell silent for a moment. “Whatever the Moff is doing to your child, there is no reason for it. I’m sorry.”

The tension in Din’s fists and shoulders faded, dissolving into weariness. Your child. He wasn’t -- but wasn’t he? “He’s a foundling,” Din said suddenly. “As I was.”

“As my father was.” Fett gazed into the fire. “This is a galaxy filled with orphans.”

“Yes,” Din agreed, wondering why Fett had said something so obvious. He shook back a flash of red robes, smoke in the streets. “I was to find him a Jedi. They’ll be able to protect him --”

Fett let out a loud, barking laugh. “Jedi! Well. I suppose things may be different, for one of their own. He has their powers?”

“Yes. He can move things with his mind. Heal people. Hurt them.” A dim memory swam before him, the heat of a flamethrower, Grogu standing between him and the flametrooper, casting the fireball back, back. He remembered Cara, her hand scrabbling at her throat over a misunderstanding. “I can’t teach him myself what he needs to learn.”

“The Jedi have no fathers, you know,” said Fett.

The words settled in beneath Din’s armor, tearing at him. Was this good news, or bad? He swallowed. “Neither do the foundlings.”

“Some of them,” said Fett. “Maybe not yours.” He took another bite of his rations. “But what do I know?”

***

Din woke up with a start, his back and shoulders stiff from leaning against a log, his hands reaching up to touch his cuirass, reaching for --

But there was no sleepy Grogu nestled against his chest.

He blinked against the sunlight filtering in through his helmet, squinting. Morning. How he had let himself fall asleep?

“Good, you’re up,” said Fett, standing over him helmeted once more. “Fennec is making her way to the rendezvous point now.”

“You should have woken me,” said Din. “I could have kept watch.”

The tone in Fett’s voice suggested an eye roll beneath the helmet. “No, you couldn’t have. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t slept. You’ll get sloppy if you don’t tend to yourself, and the child needs you at your best.”

Din hung his head, abashed. Of course. He’d been foolish.

“Come now. Your best is formidable,” said Fett. He held out a hand. “The child’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

Din stared up at the older man, blinking sleep from his eyes. He trembled, thinking of the weight of Grogu nestled against him, the way his eyes crinkled, the sensation of his tiny hand cradled carefully in Din’s.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. He grabbed Fett’s hand, and Fett pulled him to his feet with a grunt.

Up on his feet in the dawn-light, things seemed finally clear. He and Fett and Shand were formidable indeed, and there were others he could call on. A plan began to come to him, and with it, a faint sense of hope amidst the aching fear. He let out a long breath.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he said. “And I’ve got a plan.”

“Good to hear it, Djarin,” said Fett, and far above the treeline Slave I soared into view. “Let’s go hunting.”

-fin- (Partly inspired by the National song, “Baby, We’ll Be Fine: All night I lay on my pillow and pray

For my boss to stop me in the hallway

Lay my head on his shoulder and say

“Son I’ve been hearing good things”)

#din djarin #boba fett #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #noromo mando #my mando fic

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xxmackenziexx · 3 years

Text

Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary: Reader’s POV for the movie incident and an explanation as to why she chose that specific shirt/ additional backstory.. Things heat up as they share a bed for the night.

Warnings: Swearing, explicit sexual content, smut(?), half asleep orgasms(?), detailed description of horror movie.

Word Count: 3,596

A/N: I’M SO SORRY!!!! Seriously. I did not mean for the huge wait in between chapters but some serious life stuff happened and I got an awesome Mother’s Day present and have been doing lots of digital art. Lol. This is the first time I’ve ever written smut (is this considered smut?) so please be gentle. Enjoy!!

Here you were, curled up next to Bucky as the movie played, frightened out of your mind. This movie was absolutely horrific and yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen. You wanted to know what the deal was with this house and why this family was being tortured by these unseen entities. You hated how invested you were in this stupid movie. It was almost…. almost enough for you to ignore the feeling of Bucky’s fingers tracing the skin of your shoulder. You couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse that you didn’t change clothes before coming over to his house, it wasn’t a conscious decision, you just didn’t think about it beforehand. You kind of had a lot on your mind when you headed to his house. Steve had just asked you to homecoming, that’s kind of a big deal. And you felt a little bad about the whole situation, you’d never feel towards Steve what you feel with Bucky. But you knew you couldn’t be with Bucky; you just couldn’t take the chance that it would ruin a lifetime of unforgettable memories and friendship. You could be with Steve, and even though you never thought of him in a romantic sense before, you did enjoy his company, he was a decent friend and he made you laugh. He had high aspersions for himself, he planned to go to college and join the military as an officer. Him and Bucky attended the military summer camp together, it’s what helped them form their own friendship.

As your mind went over and over everything you still watched the movie, maybe not as attentive as you would be literally any other time, but you paid enough attention to know shit was getting real. You didn’t realize it but your breath came quicker and quicker, your body tensing to prepare for your fight or flight response. And then it happened, the moment you saw the terror on the screen you closed your eyes so tight you saw stars, one arm instinctively reaching out for comfort, landing on Bucky’s thigh and he made a noise you couldn’t quite place, and your other hand splayed across your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating out of your chest.

When Bucky spoke you barely registered it, you heard him but couldn’t quite make out the words. You barely heard anything other than the blood rushing in your ears, the combination of fear and adrenaline making your pulse skyrocket. But you felt it when he placed his hands on your arms and slowly trailed the length of your arm with his fingertips, only to grasp the hand that was leaving bruises on his thigh and bringing it up to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand. You were frozen still although it wasn’t because of the movie anymore. Bucky’s fingertips felt like feathers as they followed the path of your other arm in between the valley of your breast to lace his fingers in yours over your hand. The way he proceeded to kiss each knuckle made the muscles deep in your belly clench. You still could not force your eyes open, it was all too much, the terrifying sounds from the TV, the way Bucky was being so…. sensual. It was too much, your body was in overdrive with no direction to go. And then his hands held your head and he kissed you everywhere but your lips almost, and it was enough for you to consider taking that leap, ruining it all to feel his lips on yours, to find out how he tasted. When he begged you to open your eyes the illusion was shattered, seeing his blue eyes jolted you back into the moment and away from the fleeting thoughts of lust. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t. So, you told him you were okay. You tried hard not to move your mouth too much in fear of accidentally brushing his lips, knowing that would let the floodgates of passion open.

He finally let you go, and you fought to not literally sigh in relief. You curled back up next to him, doing your best to force your thoughts back into friendly territory but it was difficult, extremely difficult. You did your best to focus on the movie and eventually, you became enthralled again. Too focused on the woman tied to a chair and the couple trying to rid her body of the evil possessing it, you didn’t notice your breath becoming borderline panting. All evidence pointed towards a climactic event soon, the way the score swelled, the way the camera panned to each member of the family in quick succession, the way the couple raised their voices over the demon screaming inside this woman’s body. You barely registered when you took in a deep breath the moment the vile being was finally revealed because in an instant you were flat on your back on the couch with Bucky crouched in between your legs, his hand covering your mouth, his face close enough you could see the barely-there stubble indicating he recently shaved but would need to again soon. Your mind went blank. All thoughts of the horrors on screen forgotten as you register the position you were currently in, as it was EXTREMELY compromising. And arousing. His hand over your mouth hit at a dark part inside of you that you hadn’t known even existed and it made what little fabric covering you as underwear completely soaked, thankful for the pillow between you and Bucky as there would be a hard time explaining that to him if it were discovered. You quickly realized you were breathing heavily for another reason now entirely and noted Bucky was too, for whatever reason. He still said nothing and didn’t make any motion to move so you tried to wiggle to get him to at least say something as you couldn’t with his hand over your mouth, and you barely saw as his blue eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned his forehead against yours. It took everything in you not to moan underneath him as the look on his face was etched into your memory, as you quickly realized that this, whatever it was that happened tonight, seemed to be affecting him too. He was turned on with you beneath him and the slight movement you made thoroughly pleased him. You were shocked, a million questions running through your mind. But you knew, YOU KNEW that Bucky was turned on right now, you just didn’t know why. You tried to speak, and it took Bucky the longest time to peel himself off of you and move back to his side of the couch.

After finally being able to speak you questioned him with just his name, without looking at you at all, almost like he was ashamed, he indicated that if you screamed it would wake his parents up. Which made sense, it just didn’t quite explain everything. You somehow noticed the movie was still playing and asked him to turn it off and he did, dousing the room in almost pitch-black darkness and silence. Not being a fan of either, especially with the movie still fresh in your memory, you fought your better judgment and curled up next to him and hugged him. In his arms, you timidly asked if you could stay the night. You knew it was a bad idea because of the crazy sexual tension but you were legitimately scared, and you knew you couldn’t sleep by yourself. He agreed easily enough, saying he needed to shower first. Sitting on the edge of his bed you asked Bucky if you could borrow a shirt after realizing exactly how little you had on, and he agreed. When he asked if there was a specific shirt you wanted, you knew exactly which one you wanted and told him you’d get it while he took his shower. And you did. You went into his closet once you heard the bathroom door close and reached for the dark blue shirt with just his last name on it. You always enjoyed seeing him in it, even before you wanted to jump his bones. Holding it in your hands, admiring the softness of the cotton and the lingering scent of Bucky and washing detergent you sighed and took your tank top off and pulled his shirt over your head, throwing your tank to the side, not really caring where it landed.

You sat on the edge of the bed again, your mind a whirlwind of emotions and questions. You kept replaying the night in your head. Was Bucky flirting with you? And if he was, why? How do you tell Bucky that Steve asked you to Homecoming? And that you said yes? Would he be mad? Why was Bucky so turned on when he was practically on top of you? The image of his face as he rolled his eyes above you in obvious pleasure made your heart stutter and your face grow hot. Speaking of that…you looked down and realized your panties were utterly drenched. You couldn’t get in his bed and cuddle up next to him like that. But it’s not like you could take them off…could you? You bit your lip and looked around the room trying to figure out some kind of plan when your eyes landed on the window. It was a dumb idea. No denying it. But you stood up and quickly took of your tiny tiny shorts and underwear, putting your shorts back on and balling your underwear up into a ball, you opened the window and tried desperately to throw them into a discreet plan close to your house, vowing to get them when you wake up in the morning.

Making your way back to the bed, you sat down with a defeated sigh. Lost in thought, you didn’t hear the shower end and Bucky come in until he spoke.

“See you found a shirt to wear, huh?”

You looked down at the shirt in question and a smile found its way to your lips. “Yea.”

After spending so much time with someone, you learn things unconsciously. The same goes for you and Bucky. You didn’t even have to think about which side of his bed either of you’ll sleep on, you automatically fell into the same rhythm you have countless times before and soon found yourself in his bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm underneath you and resting on your side, very near your hips. You’d been in this same position more times than you could count and while it still made you happy, it also brought forth another emotion you couldn’t quite place. You felt and heard Bucky laugh and couldn’t fathom why he’d be laughing right now so you asked.

“Nothin’ babe. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled down at you.

What. The. Actual. FUCK??? You thanked your lucky stars that he quickly put his head back down and closed his eyes, his free arm bent behind his head on the pillow, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. That way he couldn’t see you staring up at him, your mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. He has never called you that before and it surprised you for one, but it also felt amazingly good hearing him call you that in his stupid sexy, husky, tired voice. You laid your head back down and tried your hardest to calm the storm raging inside of you. How on earth were you going to be able to sleep now? With everything that had happened the past few days, you asked yourself if maybe Bucky liked you…as more than a friend? Or were you picking up on things because of your own attraction and revelation that you were in love with him? Should you ask him? Should you tell him how you feel? You were a jumble of nerves and questions, and you couldn’t quite figure out what to do about everything. Because he’s been acting weird lately, right? Are you imagining things? What do you do?

“Y/n…. you need to stop fidgeting so much and tensing up.” His deep voice startled you.

He hadn’t moved his head or made any indication he was still awake at all.

“I know the movie scared ya doll, but I’m here.” He squeezed you tight. “I won’t let nothin’ getcha. I swear.”

He leaned down a bit to place a kiss on the top of your head and you sighed. It wasn’t a sigh out of annoyance, or frustration. It was a mix behind a happy, content sight and a breathy sigh…you know the kind. You didn’t even realize it had slipped out until you felt every muscle underneath you tense, you could both hear and feel Bucky’s heart beating in his chest and his breathing halted. Shit. You were screaming on the inside. Should you say something? Own up to it? Play it off? Yea…that sounded like a good idea. Right? It was all you could do so you fake yawned loudly and stretched a bit, hoping it would come across as just random sleepy noises. You leaned up a bit to kiss his cheek and said goodnight before you rolled to the other side, your back to side, and curled up a bit, hoping to fall asleep as quickly as you could.

You felt the bed move as Bucky turned to his side, keeping his body away from you as he curled his arm across your ribcage and underneath you to hug you tightly to his chest, laying his head on the crook of your neck.

“G’night doll. Sweet dreams, yea?”

Damn that voice of his.

“I’ll try. Sweet dreams to you too Buck.”

He huffed a small laugh and rolled over himself, his back to yours. You laid there, questioning everything until you heard the telltale sign of Bucky asleep…his light snoring. You were thankful Bucky was a light snorer, you’d probably have a lot fewer sleepovers if he wasn’t. But knowing he was actually asleep brought you some peace. You could finally breathe a little easier, you weren’t so tense. What the hell were you gonna do? You had to get a handle on this shit. It’s not like you could go on like this forever, it was driving you insane. Maybe you should come clean to Bucky and explain this weird attraction you had to him all of a sudden and say you needed some distance, so you didn’t fuck things up. He’d understand, right? With a billion different scenarios going through your head about how to proceed, you drifted into a sleep that was consumed by the boy sleeping next to you.

You were hot. Stiflingly hot. You were in that haze of still being asleep but barely conscious enough to take in certain things from the world around you. You tried to shift to a cooler spot on the bed and you couldn’t. Something heavy kept you immobile. You tried again and were rewarded with a groan and hot breath on the side of your neck, just under your ear and it made your insides clench and heat pool below your belly. Still not fully awake your brain couldn’t stop your body’s response, you nuzzled closer in hopes of being rewarded again, letting out the breathiest whimper unwittingly, and you were. This time you felt the vibrations on your skin, and you tried to arch your back out of pure instinct, your body doing its own bidding when you found much-needed fraction where you wanted it most without even trying to. You let out a small moan and moved again to relieve the pressure mounting inside you.

Still more than half-asleep, he was annoyed by something and groaned in response and was met with more annoyance and then the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. There was no mistaking it. He was fully awake now but kept his eyes closed, his body still so as not to betray him. He found that y/n was asleep on her back, both arms above her head, her right leg was bent while the other lay straight. Her whole body at an angle on his bed, taking up most of it. His head was in the crook of her neck, her face turned the opposite direction, his hand was splayed under her shirt, touching the soft skin just under her left breast, he could feel her ribs and the slightest curve of her breast, his fingers reaching her side, feeling her ribs while his thumb was just below the valley of her breasts. The leg she had angled was in between his with his right leg in between hers, he was practically laying on top of her. The position of their bodies now realized he let out another groan, unwittingly. Big mistake. It made her move in such a tempting way, her back arched, pushing her breast out and her hips seemed to search for something and when his knee hit at the apex of her thighs she moaned. A full-out moan. It took everything in him not to do the same, she was straight up grinding him. With his hand on her bare skin, he could feel the vibrations of each little moan she made as she kept the contact between her heat and his knee. Her breathing was picking up and he couldn’t stand it anymore, he gripped the skin where his hand lay and groaned, out of frustration and arousal. That seemed to only egg her on more and she tried to find more contact. He slowly pulled his hands from her torso and slid it down her stomach, admiring the way her belly rose and sunk with her breathing and the way the muscles clenched the lower his hand traveled. His hand was below her belly button, his pinky finger dipped underneath the band of her shorts as he just admired the scene he was in. It was a godsend. She was underneath him and the sounds she was making were sounds he’d never forget for as long as he lived. He breathed in her scent as he leaned in closer to her neck and slid his hand over to her left hipbone, just under the waistband, and squeezed the flesh there, eliciting a throaty sigh from y/n. He ventured further and cupped her cheek in his whole hand and squeezed harshly as she instinctively rolled over more to give him more access. They found themselves both now on their sides, her leg was now draped over his as he kept kneading the tender flesh there as she leaned her head back to moan. He finally felt brave enough to open his eyes and the sight before him exiled all other thoughts but her and him right now. With her head leaned back and her back arched she was pressed up against his chest and he had better access to her throat, which he took full advantage of as he softly nuzzled her neck from her collarbone to just behind her ear with his nose, planting a soft kiss there at the end of his journey. He wasn’t sure how she was still asleep, but he thanked whatever kept her that way as she hiked her leg up more to grind her pelvis against the tent in his pants and they both let out moans of appreciation at the welcomed friction. He couldn’t believe his luck, but he didn’t take this opportunity for granted as he ground into her more and placed a wet kiss on her pulse point, sucking gently. Her breathy moans and pants were music to his ears. He gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises as he rocked her into him, he couldn’t care less about himself right now, he wanted…no he NEEDED to know the sounds she made when she came undone, he had to. He used the hand under her to pull her head back by her hair and planted kiss marks across her neck and collarbone, urging her on.

“Mmmm….Bucky.”

Dear god. The way she said his name stopped his heart, the breathiness and obvious lust laced into it was almost enough to make him finish right then and there. He removed his hand from her hip and slid it across her bare skin under her shirt, resting only after cupping her breast and squeezing gently. She felt amazing, she fit perfectly in his hand. With her hips still moving on their own accord, her breath becoming fast and faster he knew she was close, all the signs were there. He leaned into her neck again and grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

“C‘ mon babydoll…come for me.”

And she fell apart in his hands, his name falling from her lips as she found her release. It was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. The way her mouth parted, and her body shuddered with the intensity of her orgasm, the way her nails dug into his bare chest unconsciously was too much for him, his head rolled back, and his eyes screwed shut as he quickly found his own release, a guttural sound of pleasure unleashed from his deep in his chest. With his eyes still closed and his body coming down from pure bliss he hadn’t noticed y/n was finally awake.

“B-Bucky?” She squeaked.

Oh shit.

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#a/u bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #teenager bucky x teenager reader #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #slight smut #a/u #friends to lovers #slow burn

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

Text

The Getaway

Part Two

A/N: This is obviously a continuation of a birthday fic I wrote for @ao719 that is now 2 weeks late 🙈 I was dealing with stuff, dont judge lol The writers block and doubts were for real yo! But thanks to my Tumblr bestie, who wouldnt let me quit, encouraged me, talked me through this thing and gave me ideas, it finally all came together.

Anitah, I apologize for being so late and the silliness of this fic and if it's terrible. I still hope you had a wonderful birthday and are blessed with so many more 💜

A/N/N: Thanks to @burnsoslow for beta reading and literally a thousand other things.

Warning: A lot of bad language, a miserable Drake Walker and violence involving tasers, fires, animals and car accidents ... No one dies people!

**Drake and Liam belong to Pixelberry, Nikolas belongs to me, the driver and mailroom guy belong to @burnsoslow and Liam's secretary belongs to @ao719

Drake stepped out of the truck in a furor, cursing under his breath, to check on his damages. The front driver tire had fallen into a deep ditch, and it was evident by the thick mud it sunk into that it would be next to impossible to get unstuck without some assistance.

He shook his head, gritted his teeth, and the veins in his neck enlarged and throbbed. As he knelt down to assess the damages further, Nik hopped out of the truck and stood over Drake. With one glance, Nikolas clutched his belly and let out a loud continuous cackle that soon sent a storm of hot blood that seemed to collect in Drake's crimson-colored face.

And the laughter just got louder and louder.

And the laughter didn't stop.

In Drake's head, it sounded like a thousand Niks laughing simultaneously, each one with two horns, a pointy tail, and a pitchfork in hand.

His anxiety took over.

He stood up, and in an attempt to let some of his anger out, he kicked the tire with an enraged shout that echoed beyond the heavily-forested valley and sent flocks of birds in a frenzy.

The tire's air must have been over-pressurized by the drop's force and popped as soon as Drake's foot made contact. He fell back onto his ass with a heavy thud causing Nikolas to screech out in more laughter. Drake sat up into time to see the front bumper and side panel fall to the ground.

"I think your truck is broken, Uncle Drake," the prince chortled.

Drake's head whipped around and glared at the boy. "No shit! What the fuck are you even doing here? You're supposed to be on a plane to Paris."

Nikolas shrugged. "This sounded more fun."

"This isn't fun, you little asshole!" Drake jumped up and attempted to lunge at the boy, but slipped in the mud, caught his balance for a split second by grabbing onto a tree limb, then slipped again, before wiping out completely. "Son-of-a-monkey-fucker!"

Drake laid on his back, staring up at a large tree branch that hung overhead, praying to God the damn thing would just fall on him.

Nikolas walked over to him and looked down on the face of fury. "Is it time for dinner yet? I'm staaaaaaaving!"

"Nikolas," Drake groaned then took a deep breath, his back mud-soaked and achy. "How? How in the hell did you pull this off?"

Nik plopped down on Drake's stomach, causing him to grunt loudly. "Easy. I told my dad you invited me, and he let me go. He was happy you wanted to spend time with me." The Prince smirked.

Drake gritted his teeth. "And he just believed you? Fucking Liam."

Nikolas shook his head. "No. I got Neal in the mailroom to pretend he was you on the phone."

Drake lifted his head and glared. "You mean that grease trap that lives in the ambulance down by the river?"

The young prince nodded. "Yeah. Except he doesn't live by the river anymore. He moved behind the elementary school .. said it had a better view."

There was dead silence for a moment as Drake grimaced at what he just heard before jerking his hips upward. "Get the fuck off me."

Nikolas stumbled to the ground with an uproarious laugh.

Drake reached into his front pocket and pulled out his cell as he rose to his feet. He was dead set on getting someone from the palace to retrieve this little menace to Drake Walker society before he found himself tied up to a cinder block at the bottom of Lake Boogaloo. The issue with his truck could wait.

Liam and Riley would already be on the plane with Bastien in tow, so calling them right now would be useless. He pressed the contact for the palace operator, hoping to be directed to the mailroom; if Neal was part of helping get Nik into this, his shady punk ass could come pick him up in the renovated ambulance that served as his home and part-time blood mobile.

Pacing back and forth, Drake raised the phone to his ear, waiting impatiently for a ring.

"Trish! Put me through to the mailroom."

While he was distracted taking care of that, Nikolas was somewhat disappointed the trip was already over -- he had so many plans for his favorite uncle. With his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips, he leaned up against the truck in a huff. "This sucks!"

The sounds of leaves crunching and brush moving around nearby caught his attention. Nik's eyes widened in fear when the black furry coat of a creature with a white stripe down its middle could be seen scampering around searching for food. The boy gasped and pinched his nose as the animal's foul scent started to become thick in the air and made his eyes water. "Uncle Drake," he called out in a nasally voice, "there's a skunk."

With a scowl, Drake lowered the phone and scrunched up his own nose. He took one glance at the animal, who didn't appear to be a threat, then glanced back at the kid. "It's probably more scared of your evil ass than you are of it. Just keep your mouth shut and don't move." The call with Neal resumed.

"But, Drake ..." Nikolas whined, trying to plead for him to listen but could tell his uncle would have none of it.

Frantic to scare the smelly animal away, the young boy searched the ground for something to throw at it: a large stick, a rock, Drake's Air Bud soundtrack. Those things might scare the skunk off, but they posed a risk of it spraying before doing so. Memories of the smell of Madeleine's office when he had one shipped to her came flooding back. It took a month for the palace to lose that scent. The prank was hilarious until it affected his comfort.

A devilish smirk took shape as an idea popped into his head. “I need my backpack.”

Nik grabbed the top of the truck bed and stepped up on the rear tire and swung one leg over, then the other. He found his backpack and quickly unzipped it, pulling out night-vision goggles and a rope, then placed them beside his feet. He proceeded to move aside a bottle of industrial-strength super glue and the glass jar holding his tarantula, Barf. Finally, at the bottom of the bag, was the taser he “borrowed” from Bastien’s desk, and he quickly took it out. Holding the electrical gun in front of his face and twisting it around menacingly, he said, “Okay, Mr. Skunk. Get ready for a shocking experience.”

“No!” Drake yelled into the phone at Neal, “You can’t borrow my binoculars. What the fuck are you gonna use those things for at a children’s museum anyway?”

“The … the …” the man scrambled for an answer, “those dinosaurs … yeah … the dinosaurs. They’re, like, really tall, ya know? I want to be able … to, uh … see their faces and stuff.”

“I call bullshit,” Drake bit back, “I won’t be an accomplice in your bone watching … dinosaur or small boy.” He resumed his pacing, wanting to get the conversation moving along. “Now listen, my sister and brother-in-law are in Texas, Lord Beaumont is on a book tour, and the guards are off duty until the royal family returns. You are going to come pick up this kid.”

“Oh! I would love to come pick him up. He’s under 10, correct?”

Drake could practically hear the creepy mirth oozing from the man's gruff voice and spat back, "I'll be with him the whole time, you oily ass, ambulance-driving … è piccola cagna!"

"What does that mean?"

Drake knitted his brows; he didn't really know, just that Nikolas called him that from time to time, and the word just kind of stuck with him. "Just ... just get here now!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming."

The call ended. "God, I hope he meant that literally, and I didn't just get that fucko off." He slipped the phone into his pocket and turned to Nik. "Alright, listen up, assh ..." Drake stopped dead in his tracks and stood, stunned, at the first glimpse of a taser-wielding Nikolas with the gun aimed almost directly at him, with a tiny finger wrapped around the trigger.

"Wwwhatcha got there, boy?" Drake's voice sounded calm and friendly. He even managed to fake a genuine-looking smile. Inside, however, he was close to shitting his pants.

Nikolas licked his lips and closed one eye to find the perfect aim. "I'm about to fry that skunk with extreme vengeance. One ..."

"Nikolas, no! Give me the taser." Drake cautiously approached him with his hand held out.

"Two," the small but menacing voice continued the count.

"Nik, don't do it! Give it to me now!"

"Three.”

"Noooo!"

The piercing sound of Drake's shout startled the skunk, and it scurried out from the thick brush.

Nik jumped up with the taser. "Hey! Get back here, asshole." He aimed at the fleeing creature and pressed the trigger.

___________

The instant Drake's mocha-colored eyes fluttered open, an acrid mixture of what smelled like ass, sweat, rotten eggs, and his mother's hairy feet had bubbled up inside his nostrils. The aroma was slightly overshadowed by the 1200-volt prongs that had pierced just below the protruding vein in his neck, causing him to seize up and then drop like a rag doll to the dirt, and muck that littered the ground.

Close by, he could make out the discernible sound of footsteps crunching through foliage and bark and sloshing over wet earth.

Drake's cheek rested against the cold, soggy ground, even as the silhouette of the young prince crouched next to him with his little head tilted sideways and blinking owlishly. He saw the child's lips moving but blocked out the little shit until the feeling of electrocution and muscle spasms had waned.

Drake looked at the small face next to him that resembled his best friend at that age. Liam is a good man, Drake thought; he was a considerate child, too. We had fun together. We always had each other's backs and would do anything to protect the other, no matter the consequences. Liam wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s just the best all around. So … how in the actual ass fuck did he produce the spawn of Satan?

Is there any chance he’s ... Neal’s kid?

Maybe Riley ... No, fuck, no. She wouldn’t.

The sky transformed from a brilliant blue to one streaked with gold and orange hues before Drake shook himself of the aftershocks that sparked through his body.

The metal prongs left behind two bright red spots, resembling a large spider bite and stinging like hell when he pulled them out. A thick layer of mud had dried and clung to his back, while a fresh layer adhered to his front. The numbness in his limbs had dissipated somewhat, but the pins-and-needles feeling remained. He was grateful the back spray from the skunk missed him, but the remnants it left on the nearby trees were stifling.

At this point, the only thing Drake wanted was a hot shower, a clean change of clothes, and to get stupidly drunk to the point he would pass out in bed and sleep for days. He scanned the perimeter and could make out the crystal-blue lake through a small clearing in the trees about 100 yards away.

Removing his filthy shirt and tossing it in the back of the truck, he eyed Nikolas, who was surprisingly quiet and subdued. The child was sitting on the lowered tailgate, swinging his legs, and trying to force his tarantula to eat a dead cricket. Drake rolled his eyes but was relieved the kid was staying out of his hair for now. He just needed to take a quick dip in the water, change his clothes, and hurry back in time for their ride home. Nik would be fine by himself for 10 minutes.

Drake let out a sharp tongue whistle that caught Nikolas' attention. "Listen up, kid. I'm going down to the lake real quick to clean up and change into some clean clothes." He opened the driver's side door and reached across the seat to toss his cell phone and wallet in the glove box while he continued, "You and your spider get in here and lock the door until I come back."

Nik dropped Barf in the jar and slapped the holed lid on it. "It's not a spider, Drake. It's a tarantula. A tarantula," he corrected with emphasis as he slid down from the tailgate.

"I don't care if it's your grandma's bladder control protection, get your ass in the truck, and don't move until I get back."

Stepping up in front of Drake, Nikolas sneered at an annoyed Drake towering above him. "I'm telling her you said that. And why can't I go with you? I wanna go to the lake, too," he whined.

Drake nearly doubled over in fake laughter. "There ain't no damn way I'm taking you. For one, you've ruined my entire trip. The one good thing I had in my life to look forward to, and you ruined it! And two, I don't know what the rules are about grownups, and nakedness, and with kids around, and all that shit. So the answer is no."

Drake could tell by the beady little eyes glaring back at him that Nikolas would not give up on this. He let out a heavy sigh. "Look. Do what I tell you right now, and when I come back, I'll build a campfire, and we can make up some s’mores. How's that sound?"

“Okay.”

“Really?” Drake shook his head in astonishment that he actually won that argument. Without another word, he watched as His Royal Highness happily climbed into the cab of the truck and gave a thumbs up.

Did that taser kill me? I’m dead, right? He did it. Do you smell that, Cordonia? No, not that fucking rank ass skunk. It’s the smell of victory! Drake Walker is a god! I have the power back.

Grabbing his duffle bag from the back, Drake hurriedly made his way toward the lake. He felt a little on edge, leaving Nik by himself for even just ten minutes, maybe even somewhat guilty. But he was caked in mud from head to toe, and the grime was starting to seep and burrow around certain parts of his anatomy. Nothing was worse than having monkey ass.

Within minutes, Nikolas sat on his haunches and looked out the back glass. He hadn’t wanted to show it, but he did feel a little bad for shooting Drake to the point it drew blood. Also for causing him to crash his truck. And even though it was funny as hell to watch, the second slip in the mud was kind of brutal. Perhaps a little remorse was starting to set in as the words of his Uncle Drake telling him that he ruined the one thing he was looking forward to repeated in his head. Tomorrow he would return to normal, but Nik was determined to do something nice for a change for the rest of the evening.

With the quick snap of his little fingers, an idea formed, and it would be the perfect thing to make Drake feel better. Nik unlocked the door, grabbed his spider, and jumped out of the truck. He headed to the back and rummaged through the bags of camping items laid in piles until he found what he was looking for: a lighter and lighter fluid.

“I’ll make the bestest s'mores ever for Uncle Drake. That’ll make him happy.”

Nikolas had never built a campfire before, but he’d seen it done in a movie once, and that was good enough in his mind to practically make him an expert.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Drake dried off from his dip in the lake and put fresh clothes on. Making his way back to the site, he caught a glimpse of thick, black smoke protruding above the trees and the smell of burning rubber that traveled with the approaching evening breeze.

“Nikolas,” he muttered as his heart crashed into his stomach. He raced back as fast as he could, fearing the absolute worst thing had happened to the Prince of Cordonia. “I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone. Liam and Riley are going to kill me, and I would deserve it. I just hope he’s not …” he trailed off when the site came into full view. It was worse than he imagined.

His eyes searched frantically until relief washed over him when he caught his first glimpse of Nikolas sitting under a tree, eating, and seemingly unconcerned by the inferno that had lit up the dusky sky.

Drake rushed over to him and lifted him into his arms and held onto him tightly. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Nikolas chuckled, “I’m fine, Uncle Drake.”

He lowered him back on the ground and started patting him down, looking for burns or injuries.

Drake let out a sigh of relief. “How? How did this …” he turned to look at the fire, then raised his voice. “Wait! You caught my goddamn truck on fire?”

Nik followed his uncle's gaped-mouth stare to the truck engulfed in flames, then screwed up his face. "Yeah ... about that. I think I used too much of that lighter fluid stuff building a campfire. But I made you something." He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a s'more, licked the melted chocolate off the side, then proudly held it up to Drake. "The marshmallow is exactly the way you like it, too: completely charred."

Drake dropped his head into his palms and repeated a slew of curse words and sounds that were not even human. As badly as he wanted to destroy everything around him at that moment, to release a fit of anger the likes of which no one had ever seen in him before, it appeared Nikolas had beat him to it: There was nothing left around there to destroy.

He dropped his arms to his sides in defeat and looked to the heavens before surmising, “This is my punishment, isn’t it? I stole that taser from the guard as a kid and let Liam take the blame for it. I insisted Liam come with me in that boat during a storm, and he nearly drowned when it overturned. He got lost in the woods on my time. I pushed him too hard once during maze tag. I got stuck in that laundry chute all night, and Constantine took hide-and-seek away from him. This …” he motioned to Nikolas, who was smiling back at him with a big cheesy grin, “this is how he got me back for all of it. Well, you win, Liam! You win! I hope you are having one hell of a time in Paris, schmoozing and laughing your ass off, because I have nothing left in this world but this … hairy, lint-filled s’more with your son’s saliva all over it … and it’s not even toasted right!”

“I didn’t make it right?” Nikolas asked thoughtfully. “Hang on. I can make you another one.” He bent down, pulled out a marshmallow from the bag and rammed a mud-covered stick entirely through its center. Drake watched as Nik skipped over and held it next to the flames shooting out the window of his truck.

For several seconds, Drake contemplated whether he should just leave the child there and let nature take its course. Glaring back to the star-filled sky, he groaned, “You owe me big for this.”

Tugging Nik by his jacket hood to pull him away from the hot blaze, he startled the boy who then whipped around with the burning marshmallow and accidentally got it stuck to Drake’s shirt. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

Ten minutes passed, and the two were on the dirt road heading back to the highway’s main stretch. After patting out the fire on his shirt, Drake planned to call the fire department to report the inferno taking place in the woods. He laughed wryly when he realized the phone was still in the glove box of his burning vehicle. And it appeared Neal’s skank ass wasn’t coming after all, so the pair would have to flag down someone and hope they actually stopped. Thankfully, Nikolas had his backpack on, and Drake used the night vision goggles to direct his way along the darkened path.

Hand in hand and approaching the main thoroughfare, Nik’s legs were starting to tire, and his droopy eyes looked up. “Uncle Drake, will you carry me?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeease,” Nikolas begged in a high-pitched squeal that grated Drake’s teeth.

Drake stopped with a huff and crouched down. “Get the fuck on my back,” he commanded, “you’ve burned and shot the front part of me, so your ass is gonna have to hold onto the back. And I swear to God, Nik, if you so much as drool on me, you can sleep in the woods with the wolves and bears and poodles. Understood?”

With a tired nod, Nik wrapped his little arms around Drake’s neck and held on. As they proceeded ahead, the prince asked, “Would you tell me a bedtime story?”

Drake grunted, “You wanna bedtime story? I’ll tell you a bedtime story. It’s an ol’ Bianca Walker original that she used to tell me every night called ‘Go the fuck to sleep!’ The end.”

Nikolas sleepily chuckled. “I already have that book, Uncle Drake. My dad’s secretary, Charlotte, gave it to me and told me to put it in my room. She said if my mom or dad found it, just to tell them you gave it to me.”

“Of course she did,” Drake scoffed, thinking about the other person who found pure delight in annoying him.

Through the night-vision goggles, the headlights of a random car could be seen driving by, and Drake let out a relieved breath, knowing they were so close.

The night couldn’t end that easily, though. A sudden sense of unease enveloped Drake, telling him that everything was not as it seemed. His steps quickened, and his heart pounded away in his chest.

Feeling like he was being followed, he turned on his heels, then widened his eyes.

A large brown bear let out a roar that echoed past them.

Drake shrugged his shoulders and muttered, “Yep. That’s about right.”

The survival training he’d learned from his Campers Anonymous group about bear encounters kicked in, and he completely stilled his body. That was until he heard, “BEEEEAAAR!” screamed over his shoulder and felt Nik’s body drop to the ground.

“Don’t move, Nikolas,” Drake ordered through a whisper.

It was too late; he was gone and headed toward the road.

Drake whirled around to see the bear on its hind legs, drumming its chest and licking its lips. “Shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Wait for me, Nik!” He took off running.

---------

Alyssa was headed back to Cordonia earlier in the night than she expected. With her hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel, she complained to her friend through the car's Bluetooth, “The guy showed up one hour late to our meeting spot, then drove through a McDonalds, asked if I wanted anything, proceeded to park behind a church and tell me he has condoms before the cops picked him up on a warrant! Worst. Date. Ever.”

Driving around a bend in the road, Alyssa slammed on the brakes when her headlights reflected off a small child darting into the road. As her tires screeched, she let out a deafening scream when a man came out of nowhere, followed immediately by a bear. The frantic man shoved the kid out of the way.

Though the brake pedal was pressed to the floor, the car collided with Drake, and his body flew onto the hood before falling feebly to the road.

The bear sniffed at Drake and batted him around a couple of times before taking off into the woods.

When Alyssa was sure it was safe to do so, she and a crying Nik both crouched around a moaning Drake.

_________

The following morning, Drake's eyes fluttered open. His vision was a little fuzzy, but he could make out a doctor hovering over him and a worried Liam standing with Nikolas at the foot of his bed. He tried to speak, wanting to know what happened, but was unable to open his mouth.

"Don't try to speak, Mr. Walker. Your jaw was wired shut to protect the small fracture you suffered from the car accident. You also broke both legs and sprained your neck. You have a long recovery ahead of you, but shouldn't need to spend any more time in the hospital. You’re a very lucky man. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will get the discharge papers and check to see if the ambulance transporting you to the palace has arrived. His Majesty has offered to allow you to recover in his home."

Drake took one look at a gleeful, bouncing Nikolas and shook his head as best as he could with a neck brace on and emphatically mumbled his indiscernible objections.

Liam chuckled, "Quit being so modest, Drake. I assure you it’s no trouble at all. Besides, it's the least I could do after you saved my son's life. And Nik here even offered to let you stay in his room to keep you company."

Nik nodded with a grin. “Yep. For the next eight to 12 weeks, it's just me and my Uncle Drake hanging out all day and night.”

Drake tried to escape from his bed but couldn’t move without use of his legs.

Liam walked around to the side of the bed and put his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “Look at you trying to protest. You never were one to accept charity. I told you, I’m more than happy to help. You deserve this and more.”

A knock at the door diverted their attention and a head popped in. “I’m here to transport Mr. Walker back to the palace, Your Majesty.”

“Perfect! And on such short notice too. So glad my secretary could arrange this ride,” Liam exclaimed. He glanced down at his injured friend in the bed and smiled. “You ready to go home, my friend?”

No! No! That’s fucking, Neal. He doesn’t even have a real ambulance. I’m not going. Somebody, anybody, heeeelp!

#Happy Birthday Anitah #2 weeks later #hahahahah #better late than never #drake walker #king liam #little shit #I'm so sorry this is ridiculous

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aliendes · 4 years

Note

hii are u taking requests? if so could you maybe do a reaction of bts being their s/o’s first/taking her virginity? ty xo

Thank you to the anon who sent in this request: “hii are u taking requests? if so could you maybe do a reaction of bts being their s/o’s first/taking her virginity? ty xo” BUT I have some explaining to do. I started writing this for Seokjin and got a little (a LOT) carried away. My bias was definitely showing here. I will write the rest of the boys at a later time and compile them into a reaction, but for now, here is a one shot (lol) of you losing your virginity to Jin.

Warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of virginity and taking of virginity, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex (woot!), lots of love and care, minimal alcohol consumption.

Word count: 2.5k~ wooooops

You and Seokjin have been dating for a little over three months. Three months of absolute bliss if anyone were to ask you, and you hoped it was the same for Seokjin. At least from what you could tell he seemed to be just as smitten with you as you were with him. There was just one little thing that was holding you back from completely giving yourself over to him - you were a virgin. Seokjin knew this and was adamant that he didn’t mind either way, and that he had no problem with waiting until you were ready. And well, you felt ready.

That’s why when you got ready for tonight’s date, you picked out some pink lace lingerie to surprise your boyfriend with. You were currently wearing it underneath your dress and the two of you had dinner. It was nothing fancy, just a BBQ place near your apartment, but Seokjin had just finished up some tracks for their new album and you two wanted to celebrate with dinner and drinks.

Now, you were both walking back to your apartment, hand in hand, warming each other up from the chilly Seoul weather. “Jin?” You asked, feeling a bit brazened by the one drink you consumed earlier.

“Hmm?” He asked, looking down at you, smiling. He really did love you, more than he thinks you know.

“I think I’m ready,” you blushed, looking down at the sidewalk as Jin halted all movement, jerking you back slightly by your attached hands. Turning around, you blinked up at him through your lashes.

“YN, I’m not in a rush, you know that-”

You cut him off before he could finish, “I know Jin, really. I’m ready.” You smiled genuinely at him to let him know you were comfortable, and that you weren’t doing this to please him.

Without saying anything else, Jin pulled you into his chest and wrapped his strong arms around you, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was intense, a searing heat burning through your body. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth for a moment before releasing it and continuing his assault on your lips. You could feel arousal building in your panties at the thought of having his mouth and tongue in other places. You flushed at the vivid picture.

The kiss was hot and heavy and left both of you panting when Jin finally pulled away for air. Staring at each other for a moment, you looked up to see you were next to your apartment building. Without warning, Jin picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, practically jogging into your apartment building and up to the second floor. “Seokjin!” You shrieked, high pitched giggles falling from your lips and he ran down your hallway. Without putting you down, Jin punched in your door code and entered your apartment, heading straight for your bedroom.

“Sorry baby, I’m just so excited,” he said, tossing you gently onto your plush mattress, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words.” You looked down to Jin’s crotch and you noticed the large, very large, tent forming in his trousers.

Another grin spread across your face and your boyfriend adjusted himself, wincing as his rigid cock brushed against his pants. You felt bad for him, wanting to help him in some way, even if you weren’t really sure what you were doing. “There’s condoms in the nightstand,” you whispered, suddenly becoming nervous for what was about to happen.

Jin smirked at you before his eyes softened, “Let me take my time with you baby. You only get to do this once, you know.”

You nodded at him as he crawled over the bed until he was on top of you, slotted between your spread legs. He never took his eyes off you and he descended towards your lips again, this time locking you in a sensual kiss. You’ve kissed him like this plenty of times, usually turning into full blown make out sessions that leave both of you wanting. But tonight, there would be a satisfying ending to your fiery kisses.

Jin’s hands traveled all over your body, starting from the tops of your arms, roaming down to your bare thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up slightly. “Is this ok?” He whispered against your lips before diving back in. You nodded against him, giving him the green light to pull your dress up. As Jin bunched your dress up around your middle, his fingers grazed the lacey material of your panties, causing him to pull away and look down, making you snap your legs shut in embarrassment. “Hey - it’s ok baby, don’t be nervous. If you’re uncomfortable let me know, and I’ll stop, ok?” His voice was saccharine sweet, making sure you were completely ok with what he was doing. You looked into his eyes and nodded your head, letting him know you understood. With soft hands on both your knees, Jin spread your legs for him, putting your soaked pink panties on display for him, “Fuck, YN,” he muttered, reaching down to palm at himself through his pants. He reached out towards you, running a finger over your clothed core, making you jump backwards at the sudden contact. Jin’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, making sure you were feeling ok. “I’m gonna take your panties off, are you ok with that baby?”

“Yes,” you whispered, excitement hiding behind your nervousness, “yes, please.”

Something dark flashed in Seokjin’s eyes before they softened again, “So sweet, baby,” he murmured before slipping his fingers under your panties and sliding them off your legs slowly, before stuffing them in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at his actions, making him chuckle darkly. He leaned down to leave a chaste kiss on your lips before he slides down your body, coming face to face with your dripping pussy. “So wet already and I haven’t even touched you,” his voice was breathy, soft, “can I kiss you, YN?” You knew he didn’t mean on your lips, and despite feeling embarrassed, you nodded your head quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel his tongue on you.

Slowly, eyes never leaving your face, Jin lowered his mouth onto your core, placing a quick kiss to your clit and then pulling away. You’ve touched yourself before, plenty of times, in fact, but having someone else, something foreign touch you there, was a new experience. Teasingly, Jin placed a few kisses on your pubic bone and then on your thighs, before delving back in and licking a long stripe up the center of your pussy. You cried out at the sensation of his wet tongue touching you in such an intimate way. Fireworks were exploding in your stomach, your eyes twisting shut as he continued his ministrations. Jin swirled the tip of his tongue through your folds and up to your clit, giving you just a little bit of stimulation. He didn’t want you to cum yet, just get you warmed up. Pulling back a bit, he looked up to see your face screwed up with pleasure and he smiled to himself, “I’m gonna use my fingers, ok? I’ll go slow.”

He was being so considerate of you, you felt like you might have fallen even deeper in love with him at his words. Or maybe it was his tongue, you weren’t sure. You nodded frantically, wanting to feel every part of him you could. As Jin brought a single digit up to your slit, he brought his lips back onto your clit, sucking lightly to distract you from the intrusion. As Jin’s long, crooked finger entered you, he brushed against your walls in such a delicious way it made you scream out again, “Jin! Oh - fuck!”

His fingers felt so different from your smaller ones and you’re relishing in the feeling of it. Slowly, he began pumping his digit in and out of you, all the while his tongue was flicking at your swollen bud. “M-more,” you whispered, shocking Jin. With his eyebrows raised, he slowly added a second finger, stretching you out further, “Ah - God it feels so good!” You could feel Jin smiling against you, loving the way you were squirming under him.

Jin let go of your clit and pulled his head up, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. “Can I feel you, YN?”

This was it. You were about to lose your virginity. And you couldn’t be happier. “Yes, yes, please Jin, I need to feel you.”

Quickly, Jin pulled his digits from your dripping pussy, making you whine at the loss, and grabbed a condom out of your side table. You watched through hooded eyes as he unbuttoned his slacks and slid them, and his boxers, down all at once. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head at the size of his cock. You watched it bob up and down a couple times before you heard Jin laugh.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll go slow, I promise.”

You knew that your first time probably wouldn’t feel amazing, but you were even more nervous now after seeing the size of it. You nodded slowly, still not totally believing your boyfriend. You watched on as Jin tore open the condom wrapper and slid the rubber over his length. The action making your mouth water in anticipation of having him inside you. He tossed the wrapper on the nightstand and leaned over you, propping himself up with one hand, the other lazily jacking himself off before lining up with your center. Jin gazed into your eyes and your breathing picked up at what was about to happen. “Are you sure, YN? We don’t have to do this. I can eat you out all night if you want me to and we can cuddle.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart sore. As tempting as the offer sounded, you really needed to feel him inside you.

“Y-yes I’m sure, Jin,” you whispered, leaning up to place a peck on his plump lips, “I trust you.”

He smiled at your words, pushing the tip of his incredibly hard dick against your opening, “Tell me if it hurts too much, and we’ll stop. Promise me you’ll tell me.” You nodded at him. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you muttered, “please just put it in me.” The whine in your voice made Jin’s cock twitch, loving how obedient you were. He’d save that kink for another time.

Slowly, he pushed his tip into your slit, parting your lips. As he entered you, you felt a burning sensation as the skin stretched, “Ah, a-ah,” you whimpered, causing Jin to furrow his brow at you. He knew it would hurt a little, so he continued pushing into you slowly. He let go of his dick once the tip was snuggly inside of you and reached for your clit, wanting to give you some pleasure to distract you from the pain. As he began rubbing circle eights into your nub, he pushed inch by inch into your pussy. The feeling of him rubbing at your clit was sending shockwaves of pleasure through your bones, effectively making the intrusion of his member more bearable.

“You ok?”

You nodded before remembering his words from earlier, “Ye-yes, it hurts, but it’s not too bad.” He nodded at your words, pushing in a little further, “Please Jin,” you begged, though you weren’t sure what for.

Jin pushed his hips a little quicker, bottoming out inside you. The feeling was intense. You were the tightest thing he’s ever put his dick in, and if he wasn’t careful, he would cum right away. Trying to save himself the embarrassment, he stayed still for a moment. “God YN -,” he breathed, “I need a second. You feel so fucking good.” He leaned down and kissed you again, this time brushing his tongue against your lip. You eagerly opened up for him, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth and explore. You make out for a moment, both distracted by the intense pleasure happening between your legs.

Pulling back, you whisper, “Please fuck me.” Your voice is high and whiny, and it sends Jin into a spiral of desire he can’t pull himself out of. Slowly, he pulls his hips back and starts to fuck into you gently. The burn you were feeling before is slowly dissipating into searing hot pleasure. You can’t control your moans anymore, loudly groaning at the feeling of his cock entirely filling you up. You weren’t expecting to feel such immense pleasure your first time. “Faster,” you beg. Fuck, he can’t say no to that.

Jin picks up his pace, slamming his hips into yours, finger still pushing into your now pulsing clit. He could tell you were close with the way you were clenching down on him, the feeling making his hips stutter. “Relax, baby. I got you. Let go,” he whispered against your mouth before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. Usually when you touch yourself, your orgams builds slowly before snapping, but this time it hits you all at once. It was like the earth stopped spinning momentarily and all you could feel was the static shock rolling through your body in waves. You let out a loud curse at the feeling as Jin fucks you through your high. It wasn’t until your muscles finally relax that you realize Jin has completely stilled inside you. “Fuck, baby,” he pants out, forehead coming down to rest on yours, “I couldn’t last any longer, you were clenching down on me so hard.”

You let out a long sigh, completely sated, “Thank you, Jin,” you murmur.

“For what?” He laughs.

“Making me feel comfortable and making sure I felt good. I was expecting it to hurt a lot more.”

Jin shook his head, bringing his clean hand up to cup your cheek, “I would never hurt you, YN. I love you.”

Your world stopped spinning again, only this time it was for a different reason. You two have never said those words to each other before. Though you knew you loved him, and you felt loved by him, those three words haven’t slipped into a conversation yet. Butterflies were erupting in your stomach, making you feel giddy and nervous at the same time. A grin slowly spread across your face as you met his gaze, causing him to giggle.

“I love you, too.”

#bts smut #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin x virgin #virginity seokjin #virginity bts reaction #bts reaction #seokjin reaction #seokjin drabble #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #jin smut #jin drabble #jin fluff #jin x virgin reader #seokjin x virgin reader #cypherwritersnet

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anonymous0writer · 4 years

Text

Saving You III JJ Maybank

Part Two: Toeing the Line

Author: @anonymous0writer

Summary: You and JJ had been best friends for as long as you lived. But the feelings that would change your status haven’t been said. Will the words ever be said?

Warnings: Parental abuse/abuse, (more in detail..) swearing.. Going into detail about emotions? I don’t know...

A/N: This one is really long bc I went back to edit and added a shit tom of detail and angst ig. Also, I tried to edit it the best I could.. Anyway, I really like this series, and I’m gonna be so sad when its done even though I’m on the second part, lol.

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There was something in the air. Maybe it was the tang of rain just before it hit. Or maybe it was the way the clouds looked a little darker than the hour before. Whatever it was, it was there. Twisting and churning feeling that sat in his gut, making his face twist in sickness. It was like stepping off a plane, the indescribable feeling of you not begin right. Like you were meant to be in the air, pressure against your ears and flying in the sky, not dropped to the ground, heavy and lost. But no matter it was, the foreboding was there. Settled into his stomach like a lithe creature, ready to strike when the moment came.

He didn’t know what it was, but it was like the calm before the storm. The crispness of the air, the sharp tang of rain about to fall, and then it hits. The consuming, hoard of dark clouds, rolling over the sky in a furious march. Clouds that left the bone quivering, earth shaking booms of thunder and the wicked crack of lightening that light up the world for a second, before plummeting it into darkness.

The storm that brought destruction and havoc and sorrow. But so elegant in the way it destroyed you didn’t even think about it until you were left with the pieces of its aftermath.

It was like a hurricane. Blowing and whipping furiously, making it way to you, eating up the miles in its path, determined to destroy everything. It was hurtling toward you, and you were powerless to stop it, only able to hunker down and let it happen.

Whatever it was it was going to bad, and it made him sick. It was a knot in his stomach that tightened and made him sicker. He leaned forward, eyebrows pressed together in worry. What the hell was going to happen today?

---------

Y/N batted her friends grabby hands away, laughing at the same time. JJ smirked, able to get a loose fry with his agile fingers. Y/N squawked, her lips tugging into a frown as she watched the boy munch on the food happily.

“JJ!” She called, her agitation masking the way she melted and loved that he felt so comfortable to do the simple act of stealing a fry.

The boy smirked. “I’ll let you beat me to a wave today,” The boy winked, trying to make it up to her.

Y/N hide her smile as she moved her head so her long hair slid off her shoulder, dropping in front of her face. However JJ feared that he had actually made the girl mad at him, and leaned forward, fingers subconsciously brushing her hair back, tucking the loose stands back in place.

“Are you mad at me?”

Y/N gasped softly at the feeling of the edges of JJ’s fingertips ghosting her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. Her throat bobbed, and her eyes flickered to meet JJ’s. But Y/N was good at recovering fast, and she giggled, pushing the boy away again,

“JJ, stop!” Her lips split, revealing a full smile that lit up her face and made the edges of her eyes wrinkle. JJ loved that smile with everything he got, and always hated the way it disappeared. So, trying to get the smile back, his fingers reached out to attack her sides in tickles.

Soon enough, Y/N was laughing madly, head thrown back and hair in her face, as she tried to take a much needed breath, her hands pushing away the relentless ones of her best friend. JJ grinned, blue eyes shining as he continued his playful assault, coaxing gasps and squeals from his best friend.

“Alright, alright! J!” Y/N gasped, and the blonde let up, allowing her to catch a breath.

Across from the best friends sat the rest of their group. Pope was staring with eyebrows raised, and John B. was smirking at the pair, while Kie was cleaning up their mess so her father wouldn’t get mad.

“You two are on crack, I swear.” John B. muttered, popping a fry in his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly.

“Shut up, John B!” Y/N yelled, a mischievous smirk plastered on her sunlit face. She reached into her basket of quickly diminishing fries and hurtled one at the tall boy across from her.

A thud sounded as John B.’s chair dropped and he retaliated with a fry in Y/N’s face. The revenge blew into a full on fry fight, and the friends were laughing and ducking from the onslaught of fries headed their way.

As JJ chucked a ketchup soaked fry toward Pope, he felt so happy. His eyes wandered to see Kie and Y/N huddled together, battling away the fries raining down on them with loud rounds of laughter. He took a split second break to admire his best friend since he was eight. She was beautiful, with her laugh that made everyone join in, with her kind words and big heart and her smile that had every person that met her falling in love.

But the fun was ended by Mr. Carrera and his sharp yell through the empty restaurant.

“Hey, knock it off.” He frowned, eyes landing on his daughter. “I thought I told you not to waste my food.” He grumbled, soon focusing on cleaning a spot on the counter.

“Sorry dad.” Kie winced, and smacked Pope’s hand with a glare as he tried to pick up a fry. “It’s getting late,” She comments, looking out the window of the Wreck, watching the sun sink lower into the horizon. “If we want to catch some waves,”

“We gotta go now.” Y/N finishes for her, hands scrambling to clean up the table now littered with grease soaked fries and splotches of ketchup and mustard. “John B, come on!” She chided as the boy waited a second too long to join in the collective work to clean up.

He jumped in, but JJ held back, struck frozen by the sinking feeling in his gut. His stomach knotted, giving him the feeling he woke up with this morning.

The calm before the storm.

“JJ?” Y/N prodded, eyes finding his as her eyebrows pushed together. She stood, brushing off her cutoffs with harsh wipes of her hands. Her eyes fixated on her friend, confusing pulling her eyebrows together. “Hey, J?” Her voice cooed, calling out to the blonde.

“Shit,” The surfer muttered, taking his hat off to run a hand through his messy hair. His blue eye seemed distant, but they were wide, like a child who forgot to do a chore and their parent was soon to catch them. “Fuck, you guys I gotta dip.”

“What? Where are you-” Kie started, but the boy was already off, spiriting through the Wreck’s door. His figure jumped on his bike, and soon he sped away, gravel spewing and the blue shirt he wore fading into a small speck until it was gone from sight.

Kie sputtered, eyebrows pulling down as her lips curved into a soft frown. “What the hell was that?”

Y/N takes a second before pulling her eyes away from where JJ ran off. Worry churned in her gut, as she finally lets her eyes tear away from the scene.

“I don’t know.” She breaths, trying to quell the bad feeling.

But she knows it hopeless. She’s always had a sixth sense when JJ was in trouble. Yet this time, that horrid feeling is coupled with another. It feels like her fear of something bad happening, but you have no control of it.

To Y/N, it felt exactly like the calm before a storm.

--------

“You worthless piece of shit!” The screams curl into JJ’s face, stale beer and bad breath hitting him in a wave. The boy presses himself back farther, the untamed wood digging into his back. His face scrunches up, and he tries desperately to block out the words.

The words crest and break in the blonde’s ear, settling deep into his brain, and joining the other nasty words thrown at him by his father. The words shook him to the core, bone quaking, eyes swimming and blood sizzling. His anger built higher and higher, growing rapidly, morphing into a beast. Anger at his father, for the shitty life handed to him and the only thing in the refrigerator was a week old beer his father downed every day. Anger at the world, for turning its back on him, shutting him out and letting him suffer. Suffer at the hands of his father. Who couldn’t stay sober for his life. And couldn’t ease the anger towards his son either. It all came to a 360, didn’t it?

But another feeling roared in him, unable to be put out like a simple fire. This feeling was almost as powerful at his anger, close, but not quite. This feeling wasn’t powerful in the ascend. Only in the descend. The emotion, the feeling that ran through his veins, running with the anger and doubling its strength was helpless pain. It was like being too close to the edge, where you looked down, breath catching, eyes watering at the wind, heart speeding. Where even though you tried to calm yourself with ragged breaths, your heart sped up into a gallop, beating wildly in your chest cavity, palms slick with sweat and ragged breaths pulling your chest in and out. It was when your hands shook, and your eyes burned and you were so angry that it took over every sense. When the anger was the only thing. Anger at nothing and everything. Anger burning in your chest as your hands lost control, and your mind reeled. Anger that clouded your brain like a disease, so fast and quick you didn’t even realize. The feeling that brought you to your knees when it rose to its height. Where your thoughts streamed so fast you could process everything and nothing. Where your bones stopped, and you sagged, the fight escaping you like a soul to a body. The fight, the survival instinct, the anger, it all faded, leaving you to break down, mind still reeling, hands still shaking, breaths still ragged. It was that feeling. The feeling of everything in you giving up to a break down. Where your thoughts broke on you, turning against you and watching you fall apart.

“Shut up!” JJ screams back, face contorting as he tries to handle the emotions raging in his chest. They were too much. He didn’t handle emotions well, not when they were like this. Not when they exploded and raged and screamed like this. He couldn’t handle the wailing symphony of his fathers words and the feelings of pain and anger rose to a crescendo in his ears. “Just shut up!”

He was yelling. Trying to block out the orchestra in his ears. To stop the emotions beating in his chest like they were alive. To stop his fathers lying, withering words from taking root in his mind and growing like a weed. He was trying to shut everything out. Because he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle the way his fathers hands never failed to hurt, and his father words never failed to sting, and the way eyes never failed to pity as they landed on the bruises that seemed like permanent markings on his skin.

Luke’s fist slams into his son’s cheek, filed by rage and the abundance of alcohol. The hit sent JJ sideways, knees slamming into the floor with a hard thud as pain split across his face like a rapid spiderweb. It worked it’s way into every fiber of his face, searing and never ending. His jaw clenches, sending another wave of pain through his body, making his brain go fuzzy as his vision danced. His mind was slipping, trying to process the amount of pain, but failing to do so.

But magically, it cleared. The fog dispersed and gave way to sharp images, sending the boy back into reality, where his fathers fists were too real and the pain was too clear. But the haze only cleared to let another emotion peek through as he heard it. Heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires and brakes squeaking as the engine rumbled, dying. Pain slithered away into the corners of his brain to give way to a more powerful emotion. Fear. Fear because he knew exactly whose there’s that care belonged to. Knew exactly the way the gravel surrendered under the weight of a certain tire. Of a certain car. The car belonged to her. Y/N.

She was here, knowing something was terribly wrong the second the boy stopped reveling in the childish food fight. Because she always did. Her gut always twisted a certain way, giving her a bad feeling that never faded until she investigated. She always seemed to know when he was in trouble and came running, eager to ease the feeling and help. She’d gotten that sense the moment the boys eyes landed on her all those years back. It was a gift. A gift, a connection between two people who’s love ran deeper than blood and deeper than words itself. But in most cases, the gift was a curse. Because every time her gut twisted that way, or she’d frown because she felt undeniably wrong, JJ was hurt, beaten bloody by his own father. Most of the time she showed up when Luke was passed out drunk on the couch, chest rising in falling in a drunken slumber, JJ visiting a world of pain on the floor or gripping his head like it was going to burst as he sat, door locked in his bedroom. But now she’d shown up when Luke was towering over the blonde, words bellowing out of his heaving chest.

“No,” JJ whispers, fear spiking in his chest, hitting a certain place in his heart. Everything- the anger, the helplessness, the crescendo of wails and words screamed by his father- died. Faded into the background to bow to the new comer. Fear. Not fear of his father. Not fear that his father would go too far and actually kill him. Not it wasn’t fear for him. This fear was for his best friend. His bright eyed, smiling friend who he’d fallen in love with,

His fear was for Y/N. Fear that she’d get hurt. And if she got hurt- JJ wouldn’t even allow the thought to fully develop or form into a real sentence. He couldn’t- wouldn’t go there. The thought brought too many already present emotions and more to the front.

As the surfer tried to scramble away, the pads of his fingers digging into the fought grain of the wooden floor, he was grabbed. Luke flipped JJ over, hands rough, and words hitting JJ’s ear, making the boy flinch. Fists started raining down on his face, head smashed into the worn floorboards of the house. The blondes eyes fluttered shut, his brain threatening to stop. JJ was in too much pain, his mind clouded and vision swimming to hear the porch door and the main door smack open. It was too late. Too late to get up, shove his dad off and beg Y/N to leave, let his father run his course. But pain was a powerful thing, leaving JJ prone on the floor as the door to the house of pain opened to reveal Y/N.

“Stop!” Her screams ran through the air, snapping her best friend out of his haze of misery. “What are you doing?” Her voice wavered, breaking as it gave away to fear and distress. Worry seeped into the words, making her cries desperate.

The boy on the floor groans, heat splitting in pain as he moves, picking himself up. He stumbles, knees threatening to give way, and face bruised and bloody. His lips are cracked and parted, blood leaking from an open wound, thick and dark. His cheek is swollen, red and puffy with purple blooming across it like a wildfire. It was like the purple of the fading sunset, elegant and soft for such an alarming, pain filled color. A cut mars his right eyebrow, breaking up the symmetry of his abuse. His eyes are sad, the azure color dulled and faded, weak without the light of his usual smile or carefree laugh. His lips don’t tug into a flirty smirk, but frown in a soft, giving up manner.

When he opens his mouth, he finds his might too dry and throat too clogged to speak. So he tried again, voice hoarse and broken. “Get out of here!” He begs, fear and desperation thick in his rough voice. His pleas reach his friend, sounding harsher than he intended. Subconsciously, the JJ places himself in front of Y/N and his seething father. His hands are still shaking, weak and bruised as he holds them up, trying to keep his fathers hands of misery away from the perfect light of his best friend.

“What is she doing her?” Luke barks, his voice rapsy with the gruffness of a man with only anger and cheap alcohol in his blood can obtain.

“I’m gonna get her out dad. Alright? We’re gonna leave.” JJ’s hands shake more as he plays mediator, eyes beseeching his unforgiving father. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to quell the soreness. He’s begging. Begging with his father to let them go- or at least Y/N. And begging with his best friend to leave, leave so his father can keep his reign of terror focused on the blonde and not her.

“You’re not leaving!” Luke thundered, brows glaring down as he surveyed the two kids. His stained tank top lifted at uneven intervals as his chest heaved, ragged breaths pulling in and out of his frowning mouth. His lips were screwed into a disgust filled sneer.

But Y/N wasn’t having it. JJ’s cerulean eyes flickered to meet hers, seeing them spark with fire and sadness. A combination her best friend knew too well. So, with a rare surge of bravery, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins at the best of her thundering heart, she stepped forward. Her feet groaned against the wood as she went forward, short, quiet gasps falling from her dry lips. She was now exposed to Luke’s fury. JJ was no longer in front of her, protecting her. And it was her own doing.

“Stop it! He doesn’t deserve it.” Y/N’s voice was ragged, seeping with desperation as she begged with the inconsolable man in front of her.

JJ’s heart twisted at the words, squeezing painfully as it hammered against his bruised ribs. Breath caught, he stopped, but he was too late. He wasn’t in front of her in time, wasn’t meditating like he was begging for life. He was too late. Luke’s hand was already flying, and the loud sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. The sound was enough to make JJ flinch, a smack and cry sounding. The cry ripping from a familiar throat, provoked by the shock and pain. Y/N fell, the power of the slap sending her to her knees. She hit the floor, ground thundering as her hands flew to her cheek. Her fingers were gentle, exploring the source of pain now stinging across her face.

JJ was positive that he could hear his heart crack. Positive that the sound of it was breaking wasn’t only in his ears, adding to the decrescendo of wails and words in his ears. The boy was sure, if you looked hard enough, you could see the soft, yet strong webbing of his heart break and fall into tiny, sharp pieces, lost in his rib cage.

“Dad!” He screamed, shock forcing the words from his constricted throat. His ocean eyes brimming with tears and clouding his vision as he watched you gasp, red blooming fast on your cheek from where his father hit you. His father. Leaving his own abuse mark. On you. On the one person JJ cared about more than himself. On the one person he wouldn’t think twice about giving his life for. On the one person he promised nothing would happen to. On the one person he loved with every bit of his fucked up self.

He broke his gaze on your to look at his father. Despite his mind still trying to process everything- everything from the downhill spiral of his roaring emotions and the increased climb of his pain- he thought fast. Quicksilver. Turning to his father, he put his hands- now less shaky- up in surrender. His cerulean eyes were back to begging. “Alright.. We’re leaving. I’m getting her out of here, alright?”

Luke’s lips curled into a sneer, and he spit on the floor, eyes hard and filled with disgust and to JJ’s relief, disinterest. His father turned away, searching for a beer like a lost man at sea for land. Once he was sure, his fathers mind was only on the cheap alcohol littering the house, JJ spun, eyes zoning in on his best friend. His blue eyes locked on your figure.

Breathing her name in a ragged whisper, JJ dropped to his knees next to her, ignoring the pain exploding like rouge fireworks in every part of his body. The wince didn’t hide the pain, but the boy was used to hiding. He ignored his pain, lips pressed together in a thin, determined line. Because the bruised ribs and face that were throbbing and screaming were nothing compared to the way his heart broke and seized at seeing you fall victim to his fathers vicious hands.

“Hey,” He whispered, voice barely audible as he called out to his friend. His fingers reached, touching the soft underside of her jaw as his hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks like they were glass.

Y/N’s heart ached at the way JJ cupped her face. Like she was so fragile and could break with the slightest pressure. Like he didn’t want to hurt her, and only craved to protect her. Alike he was sorry, and he couldn’t convey it in words, so he tried in touch. Like he was heartbroken over seeing her like this.

JJ’s eyes swam with unshed tears as they pooled. His attentive eyes saw the familiar welt form on your cheek bloom like a flower in spring. The welt was big and angry, making the boy clench his jaw tightly. His nostrils flared as his ears registered the gasp falling from your parted lips and the hurt look in your eyes.

And he realized. The bad feeling this morning. The creature settling in his gut, waiting to strike. The feeling that reminded JJ of the times a hurricane would be broadcasted on the TV screen, the brightness of the pictures blaring and the detached voices of newscasters loud. This, this right here- his best friend sitting on the floor, bruising cheek cradled in his rough hands, both of them victims of his father- was the foreboding in his gut in the early morning.

Before- that was the calm before the storm.

And this- this was worse. This was the crashing of the waves after cresting to a scary height. This was the raging wind, coupled with the stabbing rain. This was the crescendo of the deafening music where you covered your ears with your hands, eyes squeezed shut. This was the sharp crack of lighting exploding across the night cry. This was the moment where all the fight left your body, leaving you empty and hollow, a husk of your emotions. This was the silent scream of mind tearing pain. This was the rising panic in your chest. This was the feeling of seeing Y/N and her abuse. This was the feeling of helplessness as you looked up, neck craning back as your eyes tracked the rising wave, fear heavy in your chest as your realized your fate and there was nothing you could do about it.

This was the storm.

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