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ayaboba · 4 months

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WELCOME TO MY HEART

summary: how has loving you changed him?

characters: neuvillette, alhaitham, diluc, xiao. (seperate)

notes: gn! reader, fluff, getting poetic in xiao, weird time skips. wc: 2k!

neuvillette

Hesitancy lingers like a translucent mist around Neuvillette. Thick, but also not thick enough to be indiscernible. As centuries tick by, soon enough, that protective mist wanes into nothing but a fragile facade that threatens to vaporise. That outcome is most unfavourable; simply visualising it already causes a spike in distress in his chest.

Fast forward a few 'scenic meetings’ later, Neuvillette wonders where that mist disappeared off to.

He needn’t put up a missing poster with a contact number because, shockingly, the Chief Justice no longer desired that prudential coverage.

You evaporated Neuvillette’s final layer of defence, stripped his rationality with unwavering strength of character, and erased any uneasiness within the language of love.

Throughout your shared timeline, every point marked with a memorable moment, there are many small aspects about each other that only the continuation of time can reveal. It’s as sweet as it sounds, unless, well, the other finds out about something you did try to conceal.

Sometimes you think to yourself: Who knew the Monsieur Neuvillette could be so…earnest in seeing you flustered?

Truly, there are only very few opportunities Neuvillette would starve himself from such delight. The other times, though, they consist of your rose-tinted cheeks and his charmed chuckle, florid promises ending with a trail of marks of his love down the slope of your neck.

Neuvillette is quite the bold one. Far too cheeky for his own good, really.

alhaitham

It was a warm memory. Still as vivid as ever, despite the years that have passed. A golden tattoo, activated whenever the dazzling drops of summer sunshine radiated down.

Three years ago, summer, the Akedemiya.

Heatwaves weren’t a rare occurrence in Sumeru. For weeks on end, the city of wisdom experienced boiling highs and dry, scorching winds. The streets were empty as shopkeepers resorted to staying under the cool of shaded roofs. That was the correct response, the only response to such situations.

Yet, there were still people willing to test your limited patience even more.

“We’re going to get a heatstroke,” you explained to each member of your darshan. “We can postpone the field trip to the desert some other day.”

“But this weather is indefinite, and knowing Sumeru, it is going to last a very long time. We can’t afford to waste time,” someone argued as nods of agreement travelled across the table.

Wow, you huffed to yourself, sitting yourself down. You were doing this for their own good, and partly yours.

“We should go ahead with the trip,” said the agitating, raucous noise again as a cacophony of voices arose in agreement. Maybe he should be in charge, then. As if you wanted to cancel this trip, you’ve spent endless nights planning the perfect itinerary! Also, the last time you remembered, you were appointed leader of this whole excursion.

“Facing the facts, there’s no traces of concrete evidence that our planned area holds the ruins,” you declared as the table fell silent. “Theoretically, we have more to lose than gain.”

“We’ve already decided,” came another voice. Archons, these people were going to be the end of you. “We’re still going to go next week.”

You came to the conclusion that, to knock some sense into their brains, you needed someone more intimating to interfere.

“…You want me to be pretend to collapse from a severe heatstroke?” the (acting!) grand sage repeated, not even attempting to conceal his bewilderment. “And, preferably, making it look as dramatic and exaggerated as possible?”

At the other end of his desk, you nodded with faux solemnity. “I’m afraid so.”

“Afraid so?” Alhaitham humours. “Everything from your…request to your actions betrays that.”

In the end, you didn’t manage to convince Alhaitham to put on a show showcasing the risks and dangers of heatwaves and heatstrokes, but he did agree to go out for lunch. To negotiate alternatives, of course.

After that lunch, he asked for your presence for dinner, and after dinner, you found yourself making breakfast at Alhaitham’s place.

“Since when did you come over so much?” you asked, sleep clearly clinging to your senses. “Last time I remember, I was waiting by your office door waiting to sneak in ten minutes of your time.”

The coffee he freshly brewed threatens to burst from the confinement of his mouth as he stares at you with a curious expression. “This is my house.”

The realisation spreads through your face like ink in water as you glance at the surroundings. “Oh yeah…that’s right.”

Alhaitham subtly rolls his eyes, letting out a lighthearted tsk as he disappears off into the kitchen. “Do you feel like going to Gandharva Ville in the evening?” he asks, the clatter of dishes echoing through the lounge. “You were groaning over how you hadn’t seen Collei and Tighnari in ages a few days ago.”

He remembered that? You gawk to yourself, mouth and eyes wide open as you trod towards the sunshine of the kitchen . Moreover, he certainly wanted to go. Since when did Alhaitham suggest you leave the house for purposes such as catching up with friends?

“I’d love to,” you answer as you help him load the dishwasher. “You beat me to it.”

A soft smile imperceptibly brightens his face, casting you in slight awe. “What? You don’t think I disregard your desires just like that, do you?”

Alhaitham is the hopelessly romantic one. Those intricate plans he sets up for your happiness are nowhere as simple-minded as he plays them out to be.

diluc

There was always something peculiar about Diluc Ragnvindr. The snarky remarks about the Knights of Favonius’ poor service, which you found highly offensive in the presence of an employee (you), the genuine air of mystery he upheld, but the most interesting thing you were desperate to crack down on was his frosty distaste for the Cavalry Captain, your co-worker, Kaeya.

As far as you knew, Kaeya was a lovely co-worker. considerate, dedicated and reliable, he was an admirable worker. You didn’t understand why Diluc didn’t applaud him for his discipline renowned throughout the city, especially if he was continuously murmuring about the incompetence of the staff.

Amidst the possible explanations, you came to the conclusion that the unwelcoming atmosphere stemmed from something more personal. Jealously? Past disagreements? No, that couldn’t be. They didn’t appear the closest.

Little did you know that all you needed to do was ask. Not really, but you get the idea.

“You…want to talk to Diluc?” Kaeya spluttered, wide-eyed at your determined face, before moving his gaze towards Angel Share’s bartender with a smirk. “Ah, I see what’s going on.”

“You’re very far off, by the way,” you replied silkily, taking a sip of the apple juice. “I’m not interested in him romantically, if that’s what you were thinking.”

Kaeya raises an eyebrow. “If not romantically, then what could you possibly talk to him about?”

You shrug, making a beeline for the counter. “Thanks for the drink.”

Diluc had caught the words, ‘interested in him romantically.’

According to those four words he heard from you, the context of you and Kaeya’s conversation could already be visualised.

For someone who seemed to be interested in him, your choice of words regarding his interest in you were a little all over the place. So, he assisted you.

“How about we discuss this over dinner?”

Sometimes, you think to yourself, how did this ever happen?

For example, the weak beams of lighting from the east signify that it’s the birth of dawn, your neatly tucked in bed, except this bed isn’t actually yours.

The evidence lies with the person’s arms around your waist, tight and warm against the chills of early morning.

“Good morning,” a sleepy voice suddenly erupts from besides you. “Have I told you how even more striking you are in the sunlight?”

Diluc Ragnvindir is the passionate one—the one who would give you his heart if you asked. In some ways, he’s still as mysterious as the first time you laid eyes on him.

xiao

The moon is the muse for thousands of people. Whether it’s written in a rhyme, painted on a canvas, sung in a song or resonated with a soul, it has immersed itself in the complex depths of the sensitive human heart.

There’s a particular interpretation that has stuck with you since the first time you read it. A lyrical piece of literature from somewhere long lost. You were especially tired that night. A most unlucky dilemma, as it might’ve guaranteed to be one of the most critical and serendipitous nights of your life. Not that you knew at the time.

From that somewhere long lost, between the rolling tides of shadows, tucked away in the safety of peaking mountains, a mysterious figure observed with curiousity at your sentiment.

However, the discreetness of Xiao’s hiding spot was tested most instantaneously when you suddenly made a decision to look up. To the sky, or to him? Truthfully, you were actually aiming for the moon, but the pounding chambers of his chest crashed his steaming trains of thought.

He had to restrain himself from investigating further as your figure dissolved one by one into the night. Maybe you'll be there again tomorrow.

What started off as a little exchange of words soon blossomed into short conversations. Short conversations soon bloomed into a gap in time filled with occasional laughter and encouraging smiles. He learned your name, and you learned his secrets. Vicious, woeful secrets plaguing his dreams, or perhaps the title of nightmares suited it better.

On their own, the characteristics were incessant in disaster. Fusing those characteristics with centuries of solitude and emptiness, it assisted in further igniting the raging fire burning away his will.

The idea of somehow unravelling those years of pain seemed so clearly impossible, even if that person felt like they had a chance. Even if they felt just the tiniest bit more special than all the others.

“Some things are impossible,” Xiao had muttered as he watched you go through an assortment of books he lended from Verr Goldet, eyes flickering from your face to the yellowing pages. “It’s better to admit that than spend years searching for hope.”

Skimming through the columns of ancient literature, a strong feeling of suspicion arose as you distinctively felt like he'd seen you do this once before.

“But what if you find the hope?” you whispered gently, switching your attention to his avoidant gaze. “There’s always that outcome, too.”

That outcome. Of course he’s considered that conclusion, wished for it. But Xiao would never dare to believe that far.

“I read a poem a few nights ago,” you started again. “A comparison of us and the moon. Humans, just like the moon, need to wax and wane. We’ll grow and shine our beauty, but that can’t be achieved unless we remember to rest, to wane. After all, a full moon only lasts around three days out of a whole month.”

How can you just return to reading after you told him that?

That moon analogy was shared about a year ago.

It’s likely that you brushed it off, but for Xiao, it’s still freshly etched into the shelves of his mind. And it would be a lie if he said that he didn’t change in small, irrevocable ways because of it.

Particularly tonight.

An exhausted sigh escapes from your lips as you sink into bed. Lying like a starfish, a hollow expression is evident in your eyes alone.

“This project is never going to work,” you spoke, turning to stuff your face in a pillow. Adjacent to you, Xiao observed as you screamed, once again the same words into the fabric. Only this time, the words were separated by sharp heaves and quiet sniffs. Being a little inexperienced with scenarios such as this, Xiao could only reassure you with the same words and actions that you had endlessly showered him with in similar situations.

He knew you were listening, despite the softness of his voice, which was hardly detectable. He repeated the words you told him a year ago when he felt as if the world was about to end.

“Someone once told me humans and moons are alike,” he smiled as he saw your face lift just a bit, as if you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “We both need to wane before we can emit our light in full greatness.”

Xiao is the quiet one, whose love is often under-looked, but in truth, it’s expressed just as vividly, if not brighter.

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #neuvillette x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #anya writes ✧.*

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syrupfog · 26 days

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The thing about Zoro— is that he’s lost.

What he doesn’t tell his crew is that he hasn’t always been lost.

He remembers being a kid, remembers running after Kuina every chance he had. He was ALWAYS able to track her down, always able to find her when no one else was.

He knew the land around the dojo like the back of his hand. He HAD to, since in the beginning he was sleeping in the underbrush outside and pretending to come from the edge of the village for practice every day.

The thing is, is he doesn’t know exactly when it changed.

It was sometime after be became a pirate hunter, he knows that. But timelines get tricky when he’s not sure if he was getting lost with Johnny and Yosaku because they were in a new land together, or if he was getting lost FROM them, outside of his control.

He doesn’t like to dwell on such things, things he clearly can’t change. During really lost moments he’s considered asking Chopper if it’s some sort of sickness, some brain problem, but then he steadies himself and pushes that thought down.

If he’s sick he’s sick, and if Chopper thought it was curable he would have already cured it.

Robin mentioned once that she wondered if maybe the curse of his sword has something to do with it, and if that’s the case, then it doesn’t matter. He’s not getting rid of any of them.

His swords are as important to him as breathing. He would be nothing without them.

Still, sometimes, as he takes the third wrong turn in as many minutes, lost to the trees around him, his thoughts turn sour as he thinks back to Kuina.

Kuina, who he could, without fail, instinctually find. Kuina, who always gave him an exasperated look when he popped up demanding a rematch.

He never questioned it, at the time, his ability to locate her. It wasn’t a marvelous ability, it was just what needed to be done.

And now, no matter how hard he tries, the frustration gets to him as he realises his crew is out of reach. Not because they’re dead, not because they’ve been kidnapped, but just because he is fundamentally incapable of locating them.

All these trees look the fucking same.

And he wonders what good he is, a first mate who can’t even find his crew. He wonders (not that he would ever voice these thoughts) if they see him as lesser— not in the joking way they tell him off for getting lost, but in a real, true, instinctual way.

Is he unreliable? Is he failing them?

He growls and unsheathes Wado, letting loose a strike that chops down about twenty trees in front of him but leads only to more forest.

Kuina had needed him and he hadn’t been there. What happens when he’s not there for his own crew?

They’re capable, but so had Kuina been.

If Kuina had been lost, Zoro could have found her. He’s sure of it. But if his crew now were to get lost, he’d be useless to find them.

Useless like he is right now, wandering in fucking circles while his thoughts follow the same spiral.

He knows his thoughts are getting too sour, knows he needs to center himself, so, with a growl of frustration, he plops himself down on the forest floor, cross legged, and starts to meditate.

It takes longer to clear his mind when he’s agitated, but he breathes deep.

His crew is strong, he tells himself. They can survive without him, if needs be. If he never finds them again, they will still be safe. If it takes him three islands to find them, he will manage.

He’s reached a place of neutrality in his mind, assurances repeating, when—

“Mosshead, are you ready to come home yet?”

Zoro opens his eyes.

Sanji is there.

He’s got a cigarette in his mouth and hands on his hips, looking down at Zoro with an expression that Zoro wouldn’t SAY is fond exasperation, but he might think it.

“What are you doing out here, Cook?” Zoro asks, wary. Is there a harem in the woods he doesn’t know about?

Sanji snorts. “Finding you, of course,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Finding… Zoro.

“Huh,” says Zoro.

He rises to his feet and Sanji pivots ninety degrees. “Come on,” he says. “We’re about forty minutes from the Sunny, and dinner’s going to be late at this rate.”

He reaches back, blindly, and grabs Zoro’s wrist, pulling him forward.

Zoro looks down at his wrist as he walks, then up at Sanji. “How’d you know where I was?” He asks.

Sanji’s not looking at him, but the smoke from his cigarette blows back in Zoro’s face. “Stupid,” he says. “I always know where you are. Your green hair is like a beacon.”

‘I always know where you are’.

Zoro stumbles, just a little, just for a moment.

He thinks of Kuina. Of finding Kuina.

The hand around his wrist feels like fire.

Zoro had… forgotten… that someone could find HIM, too.

#zosan #my writing

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vampirzina · 4 months

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Hello! May I pretty please request mk1 characters with a reader who is really tired and it's having some complications on her like having a harder time breathing or being dead tired?

tw: gn pronouns, sfw, mdni, alphabetical order, short hcs, illness and sleep disorders, injury

notes: anon! i hope you and anyone who feels like this get well if this has anything to do with what’s going on offscreen. i also didn’t know if you wanted specific characters or not so i did the entire roster. also apologize if it’s a little ooc. take care x

masterlist : divider credit

Ashrah paused her path to redemption to check on you. She’d ask you when you first shown signs if you were okay, but when you brushed her off she had no choice but to leave it be. She’d simply help you when you’d fell sick, until she knew you’d be okay. She wouldn’t further herself until she knew you’d come with her.

Baraka already worried constantly about giving you his disease if you weren’t already infected. So to him, your health was the utmost importance and seeing you well was a sign that he didn’t harm you. When it was reported that you’d fallen ill from the lack of sleep, he would help you as often as possible but take his frustration out on some of the colony for not looking after you when he can’t. He’d even ask Mileena if there is anything she could do to help you, or advice, but he’d rely mostly on what he knew.

Bi Han would have noticed something was up when you didn’t sleep when it came time to. He might not care too much at first when he sees you’re still functioning but that changes entirely when one of his subordinates told him that you were rushed to the infirmary because you felt like you were suffocating. He will know what’s wrong with you whether you tell him or not, and until you rest, you’ll be bedridden. If he can’t bring you things you ask for himself, he’ll get others (or his brothers) to do it for you… Except for cuddles/intimacy.

General Shao begins to worry on the inside when you start to get sick, but he keeps he’s tough exterior. He’ll investigate your current habits if he hasn’t already, and go to the best doctors in all of Outworld for help. When he gets to the bottom of it, don’t try to deny it—he notes your dark under eye. He knows what it’s like to be sick and it is not fun at all. He scolds you for not taking care of yourself, even a little offended that you’d do such a thing while with him. However, he relies on the doctors who he sends on order to report to him. You don’t get to leave until he thinks you’re okay, regardless of what the doctors say.

Geras doesn’t need sleep, but that doesn’t mean he is unaware of the importance of it. When you stay up with him to bond over the hourglass and timelines, it’s fun… At first. But when you keep doing it day after day and night after night, he hints at your depleted energy as of late. You may brush it off, but he looks into what this could mean for you. Ideally, he stops it one way or another before it could get worse.

Havik thinks it a major nuisance, and it mostly wouldn’t stop him in his endeavors. He doesn’t care for how you look. When you begin to have physical complications from your exhaustion, he lets it only so far thinking you’ve got it before he himself stops it. While he bounds you to the bed until you sleep, he’s out doing what he normally does best. He comes straight back to you, though, but don’t mention it at all to him. He doesn’t want something so tame like that exposed.

Johnny Cage would innocently comment on how you look the moment it started to show. It would start an argument from how agitated you’ve been lately, sure, but he says it’s out of concern (and love) for you. He gives you just about anything that could help you sleep. If you get ill from not being able to, he makes you see a doctor. Either that, or he “has some ideas that could tire you out”. You roll tired eyes, whatever that means.

Kenshi would also note your sullen look if he sees it [through sento], but much more cordially and obviously a lot more genuinely concerned. He doesn’t mind if he should stay home and cuddle to sleep at all, and it makes him a little sad when you turn him down. When you eventually get sick from your habits, he argues with you briefly as soon as you’re sentient again, but becomes your ultimate schedule reminder. You scared him half to death.

Kitana pulled you aside, even going as far as to get you excused you from your duties for a moment so that you could get some rest. When you fall ill from it she wants updates on your health even if you’re stagnant. She offers you certain herbal remedies to encourage sleep, and gets you a spa day so that you could look a little bit better than what you did before (and hopefully encourage you to sleep). News of your troubles don’t leave where you stay, and she’s discreet about it so you do not get embarrassed amongst your peers. Rumors are dispelled with the quickness.

Kuai Liang worries about you first, gets information second, and then makes a solution last. He listens to you talk about your problems sleeping when you eventually fall ill from the lack. He feels somewhat guilty for not checking on you as you are in his arms every night, but he feels that brainstorming with you and those who are experienced in health a plan that would help you recover is the best apology even though you remind him it’s not his fault. You’ll be required to rest, and he’ll make sure you do before he ever gets any sleep at all.

Kung Lao notices first and foremost when you start to deny rigorous activity with him. It’s only then does he realize how exhausted you look, and for once he gets serious and somewhat selfless. He fights off any of the ill feelings with medicine, all while getting you to do things not too strenuous on your body so that it gets you tired enough to sleep (even if it was just for a minute). He spends as much time needed until it goes away entirely, because he’s relentless like that and not the type to give up or leave you to it. And sometimes, when he’s trying to get you to sleep, he accidentally makes himself fall asleep.

Liu Kang already knows before it gets too late to find out, so it’s no use hiding it from him. He personally clears your schedule somehow, and if you want to work, you can’t. He’s upset with you because of how he found out you haven’t been sleeping, not because you haven’t been sleeping. He makes you prove that you are able-bodied enough to start moving around again when you insist that you can; he begins to check for you at night, having fixed a sleep schedule for you to follow. He complies if you need help sleeping again, and only leaves to return to the hourglass once you’re fast asleep.

Li Mei is the utmost level about it. After you get sick by it, she’s perfectly rehearsed and practiced, but doesn’t enjoy when others franticness starts to impede on her moves. Eventually, your comfort lie solely in her and her quarters instead of some royal infirmary or hospital. She accommodates for you, and covers for you if there are others checking for you elsewhere. She knows a thing or two about exhaustion, so she makes great efforts to help you sleep regularly from now on.

Mileena hardly leaves your side. When you collapse from your breathlessness, Princess!Mileena forgets that she’s not yet Empress. The stress does eventually get to her and it hikes up her symptoms of Tarkat, so once she bounces back from it, she immediately asks about you. She may pull away to engage in her royal duties, but she gets them done quickly and comes back to you as both Empress and Princess. She even bathes in some sort of relaxing herb so that when you both cuddle, you’ll be more prone to falling asleep.

Nitara scours her people’s remedies for a cure. It took her some time, but it doesn’t matter—it doesn’t really work anyway. You’re still tired and ill. As she searches for remedies she brings up the topic of being immortal; she doesn’t press if you deny. She asks a few of her more trusted coven members to look over you when she’s away, and she’s there in an instant when you so much so think of her.

Quan Chi is disappointed, but he helps anyway. He deals more in death and whatnot, but he knows a thing or two about the health of self. He does what he knows best, and if need be, he does great research before making a move. Whenever he feels annoyed from your stubbornness to sleep, that’s when he scolds you for being so reckless. But he wouldn’t let you go unattended.

Raiden chastises you all the way to the infirmary. You’d collapse mid-conversation, unable to breathe and now his hearts racing. When you end up okay, he wants to know what’s going on immediately. He tries not to be so upset with you, but he does everything in his power to help you. Herbal teas, medicine, gentle work over a span of hours—everything. He keeps using what he sees works best. He’s your alarm now and he forces you to sleep when he does; if he could stare at you until you fell asleep he would, but that’s counterproductive.

Rain gently taps you on the head with his staff when you look out of it. He gets annoyed when he’d have to keep doing it, and eventually confronts you. He gives you solid advice if he can’t do it himself, and he checks up on you very often. He feels a sense of shame and guilt from not being more concerned with you and more with his work, and for mindlessly hitting you in the head when you obviously weren’t feeling well. He’s unsure of how to make it up to you, but he’ll get it eventually if you don’t tell him.

Reiko acts as your personal guard already, and it’s only worsened when you can hardly function. One by one does he get some of his more insignificant duties off of him so that he has more time with you. If General Shao knows, he may offer some sort of help. Reiko sometimes makes himself late to duty so that he can take care of you, until he’s sure you’ll be fine on your own for an entire day. He sometimes comes back to you in the middle of duty, when things are boring and he can sneak away, and he helps you get as much sleep as possible from then on.

Shang Tsung makes a snide remark before casting some sort of spell on you to sleep. Before, he’d just made some sort of joke about how tired you look and smothers you with slightly sardonic pet names, but the total 180 when you couldn’t breathe could kill someone. It’s the most emotion he’s shown other than his usual in so so long, and once you’ve come to your senses he practically threatens you to get better. He’d help here and there, but your recovery is reduced to a side hustle over time.

Sindel first noticed when you became lackluster in your work. She confronted you firmly, and only backed off when you assured her that you could continue working. When she caught wind you had ended up in the medics hands, she focused on fixing you first before confronting you on your lie. She’d be hurt, at first, and she temporarily relieves you from your work. You’ll have your own private quarters if you haven’t already, and more luxury that she thinks will help you feel better. Even if you apologize, she’s already made up a reason why you did it and accepts that. However, you’re required to see her now.

Syzoth genuinely starts to act beside himself even at the first sign of complication. He searches all the land for remedies for your kind, and comes back to you to help heal you whether or not he’s successful. Outside of remedies he initiates naps, cuddles and everything nice that would get you to sleep. Deep purrs from his chest as a lullaby. He’s constantly monitoring you when you’re up and active, clinging to your side. When he thinks that you’ve been out for too long, he insists to go back to sleep some more.

Tanya covers for you before you even know. Your lack of sleep makes you overlook things, and she’s been trailing behind you and fixing your mishaps. She’s meant to confront you, and when you collapse before her unable to breathe it’s as if she already knows what to do. When you’re lying in her bed recovering from the incident, she tells you what she’s going to do—it’s not an open ended choice.

Tomas Vrbada is far too observant. He may be busy with Hanzo, but that doesn’t mean he can’t check for you. He pesters you as you get tireder and tireder each day, and eventually catches you up and not sleeping. It sprouts the conversation of your sleeping habits and he’s overall sympathetic to your guilt. He doesn’t let it get to the point of you being sick; and if for some reason it does, he’s already right there to help you (even if his heart is going a million miles an hour). He begins to stop working later so that you eat, sleep and do routines on time.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

#mortal kombat x reader #bi han x reader #baraka x reader #general shao x reader #geras x reader #havik x reader #johnny cage x reader #kitana x reader #kung lao x reader #liu kang x reader #mileena x reader #raiden x reader #reiko x reader #shang tsung x reader #syzoth x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #vampirzina #kenshi takahashi x reader

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ectospacecadet · 10 months

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My new Dan redesign post AGIT. - I wanted to give him eyes more similar to Vlad’s colour just to make it more apparent he was part Danny part Vlad, but since Vlad’s ghost’s drive is obtaining more power so that nobody leaves, there was nobody that Dan cared about enough to have that purpose anymore. So that’s why Vlad’s ghost half’s consciousness basically doesn’t exist anymore, Danny just absorbed his power and his purpose. Making Dan. - His hair is longer and more scruffy, Danny had a mullet in his human half, so I like to think Dan grew it out because he took on the traits of both Danny and Vlad. I also gave him a hair stripe like Vlad’s too. In the beginning he has bags under his eyes due to his weakened state, but over time those will go away. - The green arm and boot rings are designed after chain cuffs, I like to think Dan feels trapped in this new displaced state and is struggling to adjust into this timeline without feeling out of place. Eventually he comes to like the rings and thinks they’re cool, they remind him of an old video game movie.

There is a corrupt form I plan on designing where he takes on more traits of his previous timeline’s appearance and further, that only happens when he gets enraged or if he starts to slowly lose himself. Ghosts become less human or, as a halfa, start to lose their powers if they start to lose their purpose. Dan has no purpose after the end of AGIT, he’s gonna need one or he could end up very weak like Danny in the novel, or potentially become more ‘feral’ like the other Ghost creatures as he’s technically… Both? So I feel that at first he’ll be weak, but when he’s in a moment of absolute desperation he’ll just full on blitz out and tear everything apart. Be more malevolent etc until calmed or the threat is removed.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #going ghost #nicktoons #danny phantom fanart #dp #dark danny #danny phantom agit #danny phantom spoilers #danny phantom a glitch in time #Dan Phantom

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bet-on-me-13 · 9 months

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The DC Universe is a product of the New Book, A Glitch In Time

SPOILERS FOR A THE ENDING OF A GLITCH IN TIME

So, at the end of AGIT, we see a new timeline is created.

One where the Disasteroid was dealt with without the help of any of the Ghosts. Because of this, Ghosts are still hated, Danny is seen as a Villain, and there are apparently a bunch of changes to History that CW couldn't fix.

So, how did the world manage to deal with the Disastroid? Well, what if in this timeline, the Justice League finally exists?

In the original Timeline, none of the Heroes ever gained their powers, or at the very least the JLA was never formed (maybe similar to the Flashpoint timeline?).

But because of the new changes in time, there are finally actual Heroes that managed to deal with the Disasteroid without the need for Danny.

What if the JLA is wondering why Danny isn't mad at them for never helping with the Amity Park Situation, and Danny doesn't know who they are?

JLA: We are so sorry we never helped with Amity Park. We were so busy dealing with setting up the team that we never managed to get to you to help!

Danny: Who tf are you?

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Agit #A Glitch In Time #Danny Phantom: A Glitch In Time #Danny is wondering who these guys are #There were no other big heroes in the other timeline #It was basically the Flashpoint Timeline but without the Wold War #Maybe that's what Flashpoint is?#Flash accidently fixes one of the damaged parts of time by saving his mom and resets the world to a previous version #But with a World War because the rest of the timeline is still damaged so fixing one part of it messed with the rest of it #Clockwork is mad that this guy just messed up all his hard work

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candycandy00 · 4 months

Text

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Needles. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

“That’s all you’ll give me for her?”

“I think this is a generous offer, all things considered.”

You’re sitting in a plush leather chair in the office of the owner of the Doll House while your father argues with her about pricing. It’s been going on for thirty minutes now, your father growing more agitated while the owner remains calm and firm.

“Sir,” the owner begins, leaning forward slightly over her desk, “there are two major issues with your daughter. For one, she has a previous owner. Most of our clients consider that a deal breaker.”

“She was just with that guy a little over a year!” your father retorts, his face slightly red.

“I’m aware of that. But that leads us to the other issue.” The owner pauses and glances at you. “Your daughter’s scars are quite prominent. They’re very hard to ignore.”

There’s a hint of an apology in her eyes. It’s unnecessary. You know better than anyone that you’re disfigured. Scars of various types and sizes cover over half your body, including a sizable portion of your face.

Your father is sweating. “I‘ve heard some clients have weird tastes, that they actually want… people like her.”

The owner leans back in her chair. “It is true that we sometimes get unusual requests. But it doesn’t happen often. She would have to be given highly specialized training, to emphasize that unique aspect.”

Your father’s face lights up. “Then do that!”

The owner looks from him to you, then says, “I need to speak to her privately before finalizing the purchase.”

“What? Why?” your father asks.

“It’s a routine part of the interview, I assure you,” the owner replies smoothly.

Your father hesitates, but then stands up from his seat. He gives you a stern look, a warning look, and then he’s out the door.

The owner’s face seems to soften slightly. “How do you feel about this?”

You shrug. “I don’t feel anything. I haven’t in a long time.”

The owner looks at a laptop sitting open on her desk. “Let’s go over a few things in your file first. It says here you were sold on the direct market on your eighteenth birthday. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You were with your previous owner for sixteen months before being removed, during which time he breached the contract by doing permanent harm. Hence the scars.”

“Yes,” you answer again.

“And I see that your father sued your previous owner, collecting quite the hefty sum for your suffering.”

You nod.

The owner closes the laptop and looks at you again. “And I’m guessing your father already blew through that money, despite only two years passing. So he’s selling you again. How many other doll shops has he taken you to so far?”

“Three.”

“Any offers?”

“None,” you say, eyes lowering toward the floor.

The owner sighs. “If I don’t take you, he’s going to sell you on the direct market again, isn’t he?”

“He already tried,” you tell her, “but he said the offers were too low. If no shop will take me, he’ll probably go back and take a low offer.”

The owner grimaces. “He’s a real sick fuck, your father.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to take you on?”

You think for a moment, then say, “It doesn’t matter. I can’t feel anything anyway.”

“When you say that,” the owner says, “do you mean physically or emotionally?”

“Both. I’ve been numb for nearly three years now.”

The owner picks up a silk fan from her desk and lightly taps her chin with it as she regards you. After a few moments, she says, “Alright. I’ll take you. I’ll make a slightly higher offer to your father, one he would be foolish to refuse. And in light of your unique circumstances, I’m going to add two extra clauses to your contract. The first is that you will have the option to change trainers if the one I assign to you is too much for you.”

You nod. “And the second?”

“All dolls sold through the Doll House are allowed to come back within one week of being purchased by a client, if they provide sufficient reasoning. In your case, I’m extending that to two weeks, and you don’t have to provide a reason. I’ll take you back, no questions asked, if you feel like your owner isn’t right for you. However, I would advise you not to abuse this privilege.”

“I understand.”

“Alright then. Let’s get your father back in here and finalize the sale.”

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

Sukuna grins when he sees the message on his phone: “I have a new doll for you to train.”

He’s at home, in his swanky, upscale apartment in the city. Though he enjoys his alone time, he very much enjoys his work at the Doll House as well. Unlike the other trainers, Sukuna doesn’t keep a near constant flow of new dolls. He understands why of course. His training produces a very specific sort of doll that only a specific sort of client wants. But he trains enough dolls to keep himself well paid, and the work is incredibly satisfying.

The standard training time is six weeks, which is exactly the right amount of time for Sukuna to thoroughly enjoy each doll without getting too bored with them before they’re handed over to their owners. He can’t imagine why anyone would want to keep the same doll for ten whole years. He knows he’s not alone in this thought, which is why doll rental services have been growing in popularity lately.

He packs a few things into a small duffel bag. He keeps plenty of clothes and personal items in his room at the Doll House, so he only has to pack lightly for the six week stay. He’s in a good mood as he turns off the lights and locks the door.

When he arrives at the Doll House, he finds a rather interesting young woman sitting in the welcome room. Interesting because half her pretty face is covered in scars, as well as what’s visible of her left arm. Just how far do they extend? He’s looking forward to finding out.

She glances up at him, but gives no reaction. Strange. Most new dolls look terrified, or at least nervous, when they see him for the first time. It’s probably the tattoos that frighten them. Sukuna is well aware that they make him look like a Yakuza member, or some criminal from a past era. But he so enjoys the way people instinctively shrink back away from them.

The owner meets him in the welcome room and ushers him into her office. All trainers are briefed on their new dolls, except in unusual circumstances. But the owner looks troubled today, meaning this doll has a story. But he supposes the scars made that obvious already.

Sitting in a chair across the desk from the owner, Sukuna places one elbow on the cushioned arm and props his face up with his hand. “So? What’s the deal with little Miss gloomy out there?”

The owner is tapping keys on her laptop, then he hears his phone chime from his pocket. “I’ve sent you her file. You really need to read over it. She has a complicated history.”

“Give me the short version,” he says, making a mental note to at least skim the file later.

“Previous owner who abused and tortured her, shitty father who’s sold her twice now, and… she can’t feel anything.”

That last part captures Sukuna’s attention. “What does that mean?”

“She’s completely numb, both physically and emotionally. I’ve read over her medical reports, and they’ve concluded that there’s no significant nerve damage. The scar tissue dulls her senses in those areas somewhat, but they don’t leave her totally numb like this. And she can’t feel anything in the unscarred areas either.”

“Meaning it’s psychological,” Sukuna says.

The owner nods. “It’s clearly a defense mechanism. Her body and mind simply shut off all sensation in order to cope. And that’s going to be her biggest issue as a doll. There are plenty of buyers who would find the scars exotic, but a doll who doesn’t react to anything? No one wants that. And if we don’t eventually find a buyer for her, she’s going to get passed around from one scumbag to another on the direct market for the rest of her life.”

Sukuna had little interest in the doll’s sob story, but he was intrigued by the fact that she couldn’t feel anything. “So you want me to fix her? Make her feel again?”

“Yes. I figured if anyone could, it would be you. But be careful. She’s already been shattered. I don’t need you grinding up the pieces.”

Sukuna stands up and heads for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll reforge her,” he says with a smile, “in a way that pleases me.”

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

The man covered in strange black tattoos introduces himself as your trainer. He’s handsome, well-built, and dressed like a man far too rich to be working here. A few years ago, you might have been attracted to him. Your heart might have fluttered at the thought of him touching you. But now? Now you feel nothing as he tells you to follow him to his room.

He opens the door and walks in first, turning on the lights as he goes. You follow behind him and look around. The room looks like someone converted a fancy hotel room into a dungeon.

The deep red carpets and expensive looking furniture contrast with the various… devices around the room. There’s an X shaped table, harnesses and chains hanging from the ceiling, and a wall of leashes, whips, rods, and other such items along the left side of the room.

Ah, so he’s this type.

You’re not surprised. Actually, it makes sense. Give the girl who can’t feel pain to the trainer who tortures his dolls.

The man, who said his name is Sukuna, is watching your face, looking for a reaction. He won’t find one. But instead of seeming disappointed, he’s grinning.

“My specialty is probably obvious,” he says, to which you nod. Then he goes over to the wall of tools and toys, taking something small and shiny from it. When he returns, there’s a silver, claw-like item on his right index finger. Without a word of warning, he approaches you and quickly swipes the claw over your exposed right forearm.

You look down, curious, to see a thin red line appear on your skin, small drops of blood beading along it before sliding down. You watch the blood with no expression for a moment before looking back up at Sukuna.

His grin is wider than before. “You really didn’t feel that,” he says, not a question but a statement. He’s standing in front of you, staring at you, when he says, “Let me ask you something, and think hard about your answer. It’s going to determine how the training proceeds.”

You nod.

“Do you prefer being this way to how you were before?”

You blink as the question settles into your mind. You’ve never really thought about it before, but do you prefer being numb? It’s helped you block out the hurt you felt upon being sold off by your father, being abused by your owner, but it also blocks out any joy.

“I… I don’t know.”

He’s looming over you, looking down with an expression you can’t quite place. Is it desire? Pity? Disgust? Or have you lost the ability to distinguish them?

“Do you want to feel again?” he asks, something about his deep tone telling you to answer honestly. The sheer intensity of his presence is overwhelming you.

You can still remember when you felt things. You can remember a poor but happy childhood when your mother was still alive. Even after, when things got worse, there were still moments of happiness. Watching movies with a friend, eating cheap snacks from the convenience store down the street. A kiss from the boy you had a crush on in high school. You miss these feelings. And once you realize that, your answer is clear.

“Yes, I want to feel again.”

“Even if what you feel is pain?” he asks.

An emotion you haven’t felt in years bubbles to the surface, startling you so much that your voice cracks slightly as you reply, “Yes! I’d love to feel pain again. I’d love to feel anything!”

A smile spreads across his features, and his hands move to your shirt. “I’ll make you feel again,” he says as he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “But it will only work if you want it.”

“I… I want it,” you say, realizing with some measure of shock that you’re already feeling emotions you thought long dead.

He removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them strewn about the floor. Then he stands back to look at you. Completely bare before him, you don’t feel embarrassed. Shame is yet another emotion you can’t seem to feel anymore. But there is a strange prickling sensation on your skin as his eyes rake over you, taking in the scars that form a map of your suffering.

“It’s like a work of art,” he says, his gaze lingering on the left side of your torso. The words make you feel something else, but you’re not sure what that is. Your own emotions have become unfamiliar to you.

He leads you over to the X shaped table and lifts you onto it, then spreads you out on it like a meal. He slowly attaches the leather cuffs on each end to your ankles and wrists, still watching your face for any sign of fear.

There is none. You’re starting to feel things for the first time in three years, but fear isn’t one of them. If he can bring back the girl you once were, one who could laugh and smile and feel, then you’ll accept anything he wants to do to you.

Once you’re secured to the table, he stands back and unbuttons his shirt. When he slips it off his shoulders, you get a full view of the intricate tattoos on his body. They’re beautiful, the way they move and twist with his body’s motion.

He steps back to the table and runs one large hand over your arm, trailing it down toward your chest, where he squeezes your scarred breast. You can’t feel it, so you don’t know if he’s squeezing hard or not, but when his fingers lightly slide over your nipple, a tingling sensation blossoms there. What was that?

Did he notice that you felt something? You don’t think you visibly reacted in any way, but he’s smiling as if he knows. His fingers suddenly pinch your nipple, and you feel pressure, but little else. He maintains eye contact as he leans down and runs his tongue over that same nipple, then wraps his lips around it. You feel it again, that pleasant tingling. It reminds you of something, but you can’t remember what.

His hand moves to your other breast, where his fingers grope and pinch. You feel this a little more, and your breathing quickens slightly. That’s when he stops abruptly and goes over to the wall again. This time he returns with a rolled up velvet pouch, which he unrolls to reveal a group of very long, very thin, shiny silver needles.

He pulls one out and holds it up for you to see. “Let’s see how numb you really are,” he says. Then he grips your scarred nipple between his finger and thumb with one hand while using the other to bring the needle closer. He looks up at your face, perhaps still searching for a trace of fear. Finding none, he pushes the needle in, sliding it sideways through your flesh.

Your breath hitches as a new sensation hits you. This… this is pain! You haven’t felt it in so long, you’d almost forgotten it. When he grips the other nipple, the one with no scar tissue to dull your senses, you almost flinch. He grins up at you, as if he’s reading your mind. He leans down and licks the nipple slowly, awakening it to sensation, before plunging the needle in.

This time you gasp, your arms reflexively tugging on the restraints. You felt that! Not as keenly as a normal woman would, but far more than you’ve felt anything else in years. It hurt. It still hurts as his hand squeezes your breast, his tongue running over the needle imbedded in your skin. But you welcome the pain. It’s far more preferable to no feeling whatsoever.

Then he steps back again, and walks around the table to the bottom, where he moves in between your widely spread legs. His hand moves to your pussy, kneading it gently for a moment before his fingers slip inside your folds, finding you clit.

You draw in a sharp breath as he strokes it, feeling the pleasure so strongly that it’s almost as if you were never numb. Your previous owner had ignored your clit, having no interest in giving you pleasure, so these sensations were entirely new to you.

When Sukuna uses his fingers to spread you open and leans forward to lick your quivering clit, your body nearly jerks off the table. He rises up and looks at you. “Not so numb down here, are you?”

You can only gasp out shallow breaths.

His thumb begins stroking you again as he speaks. “I don’t care who your previous owner was.” He reaches over and pulls one more needle from the pouch, his tongue running over you again, making your nerves come alive. “I don’t care if you’ve had a thousand different owners before me.” His thumb and finger pinch your clit, holding it in position. Your heart races as you wait, now holding your breath. “Because now,” he says, gliding his tongue across the glimmering needle in his hand, “you belong to me.”

He pushes the needle into your clit from the bottom and out the top, so slowly that you feel every single bit of it. Your body bucks from the table, your arms and legs jerk against the cuffs, and a loud scream erupts from your mouth as you feel excruciating pain for the first time in three years.

It’s wonderful.

Tears spring to your eyes, and you cum on the spot, weeping and shuddering. You were certain you would never experience an orgasm again for the rest of your life, but here you were, riding out the insane pleasure while Sukuna’s tongue prodded your clit, licking over the needle stuck there.

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

Sukuna watches his doll as she sleeps peacefully in his bed. She passed out not long after the “training session” was over, just as he was unfastening the cuffs on her wrists. He carried her to his bed and laid her there, and now he’s looking over her scarred form once more before covering her.

He’s surprised by the progress they’d already made, but he can’t get too comfortable.

Because he noticed it. When he pulled the needles out of her, which should have hurt, she didn’t even flinch. He’d squeezed one nipple afterwards, before beginning to uncuff her, just to test it. This should have made her scream, given how sore she should be, but she had no reaction at all.

Meaning she’s numb again. The awakening of her senses was only temporary, and wore off after she came down from the high of her orgasm.

Sukuna smiles. He certainly enjoys a challenge, and it’s clear to him that his job is far from over.

Tag List:

@akaotv

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #x reader #jjk smut

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shadowlali · 28 days

Note

Heyy I've been struggling to find some good enemies to lovers with Graves, can we get some good old sassy reader x agitated easily Graves?

ransom

COD - Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[18+] wc: ~2.5k summary: You take Phillip's target. masterlist | AO3

warnings: NSFW, no specific timeline, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance, enemies to lovers, inaccurate military references, some minor OC characters, pet names (sugar, doll, brat), unprotected sex, squirting, creampie

a/n: the car is fine. it is sturdy. lol

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Phillip roars into his microphone.

Private Anderson sighs before speaking, “Gonzalez saw him get into a car with a woman.”

“Well what are y’all waiting for? Get back in the fucking Jeep and follow them!”

It’s not common for Phillip to lose sight of targets. Fucking newbies. All of their extensive training and they let a target walk away? It only takes a few minutes for Graves’ men in the helo to catch sight of a few suspicious cars that are driving away from the location.

Before Graves can tell his men to scan the inhabitants of each car, his phone begins to ring. Phillip takes a look at the screen and raises his eyebrow at the “Unknown Caller” flashing across.

“Graves,” he answers.

“Hi, handsome.”

Phillip grunts your name into the receiver, the blood in his veins running hot at the sound of your voice. Infuriating.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Is that anyway to talk to a friend, Phillip?”

He grips the phone tighter in his hand, quickly giving orders to his men to scan the cars. Phillip walks to a more secluded corner of the helo, not wanting anyone else to hear his conversation.

“That’s Commander Graves to you, young lady. And friends? Did we become friends before or after you stole millions of dollars worth of my weapons?”

“Millions of dollars worth? Please, Phillip,” you scoff, “I barely got two million for them. And that’s only because General Adair thought the dress I was wearing was pretty.”

Phillip stifles the groan in his throat. He knows first hand what you look like in dresses. Silky, little things that do almost nothing to hide your soft skin and gorgeous thighs–the beep of the scanning software immediately snaps him out of his daze. He doesn’t have time for this.

“You just admitted to selling weapons to an enemy nation. Once I’m done with my work, I’ll make sure to hunt you down–”

“Your work, huh?” you interrupt him. “A little birdie told me you lost your target.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Such harsh language, Phillip. That’s no way to speak to a young lady.”

“Saw him get into a car with a woman,” Phillip repeats the words he heard earlier, “it was you, wasn’t it? You took my goddamn target,” he spits out, “I have my best men scanning every corner of this town. We’ll find you before you hit the highway.”

“Oh no, handsome. We’re gone. I clocked your helo the moment I left his house.”

Phillip’s body begins to vibrate with anger. He can’t let you take his target.

“How much do you want?”

You throw out your price, asking for half now and the rest later. “I’ll send you the coordinates for the pick-up and my bank account information. Come alone, and wear something cute for me.”

Before he can respond to your aggravating comment, he hears the click of the call ending. He runs a hand through his hair. Always bleeding me dry, sugar.

Phillip leans against his truck, keeping his eyes on a swivel. There’s really no reason to. The lot is abandoned and he’ll be able to spot a car before it comes close. There is only one dim light illuminating the entire lot. Other than that, the sky is slowly fading into dark blues and purples.

“Heads up, Commander. A car is pulling up. Two inhabitants inside. A woman at the wheel and a man in the passenger seat,” his sergeant's voice comes through the earpiece.

Phillip sees the headlights of your car before he hears it approaching. His pulse flutters a little faster as your red sports car pulls up close to his truck. He sees the man slumped over in the seat, a black bag covering his head and his hands bound with rope.

You park the car and make your way out, the evening wind ruffling the bottom of your dress and exposing more of your thighs. It takes everything in him to not glance down the deep V-neckline of your dress as you stand in front of him.

“I love it when you do as I say,” you whisper, gently tugging on the collar of his polo.

“So this is what you used from the sale of my weapons? A fancy sports car?” Phillips grunts.

You have the gall to wink at him. “No, actually. This was a gift. Oh,” you gasp, “I remember this!”

You expose his neck and thumb the thin pink scar that spans from his ear to his collarbone. It’s healed now since the incident in Monaco. The day when he first met you and fully understood just how dangerous you can be.

Phillip quickly grips your hand before you can touch him further, feeling himself harden. “I don’t have time for this, doll. Did you kill my target? If I lift up the bag will I find a bullet between his eyes?”

You roll your eyes. “It depends. Do you have the rest of my money?”

With your hand tightly gripped in his, he leads you a few steps to his back seat. Graves opens the door to show you a large briefcase. You slip your hand out of his to open it and check to make sure it's all there. Large stacks of green paper practically make your eyes sparkle.

“You know what I love the most in this world, Phillip?” you ask.

“Money?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “I love money. And I love it even more when I take it from men like you.”

He has the sudden urge to bend you over and spank your ass for your insolence. Disrespectful brat.

“Alright, it’s all here. Call your men, Phillip. I know they’re around here somewhere.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Am I that predictable?”

You give him a pointed look as he speaks into his mic, calling his men down. A minute later, his helo approaches from the sky. They park far away enough that neither of you are too affected by the wind from the blades and two soldiers hop down to take the target. Phillip waves them off and the helo pushes up, leaving you two alone as it heads back to their base.

“I let the weapons slide and I paid you the money you asked for,” Phillip starts, “but this is the last time, doll. I won’t respond so nicely the next time.”

He told himself he would be firm when he saw you again. Phillip can’t have you fucking up his mission and making him look weak in front of his soldiers.

“It wouldn’t happen so often if your soldiers were better,” you bite back. “I mean, now you have an upgraded security system for your warehouse and I’m sure you pulled the other soldiers out of the field for more training, right? If anything you should thank me.”

Phillip stares back at you with suspicion coloring his face. “How do you know all those things?”

You ignore him and walk back to your car, dumping the briefcase full of cash in the now empty passenger seat. Before Phillip knows what he’s doing, he follows you, catching you by surprise as he wraps his hand around your arm. Your back is pushed onto the hood of the car and he situates himself right between your spread thighs.

“Answer my question, doll,” he whispers in anger. “How do you know these things?”

You let out a teasing laugh, “does the Commander fear there’s a mole in his company? One that’s giving intel to a thief like me?”

He never feels this agitated when he’s around other women. Something about you makes him so frustrated and–and intrigued. Phillip rips his earpiece out and throws it far. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“How?” he spits out.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper, “it’s all me.” You take the opportunity to grind down, closing that space between your bodies and rubbing your warm cunt over the bulge in his jeans.

He moans before he can stop himself. A glance down to your joined bodies and he can see your dress ridden up on your hips, your panties fully exposed to his eyes.

“Every time you think you’ve improved your security or that you’ve chosen the best soldiers in the world, I’m there,” you moan, “Taking it apart. Piece. By. Piece.”

“Why?” he groans, angry at himself for not noticing earlier.

“Because it’s fun.”

He lets go of your hands, fully intending to walk away and leave you once and for all. But he’s not sure who attacks first. Your fingers sink into his hair and tug hard enough to sting at the same time his hand yanks down the top of your dress. His mouth fuses to yours in a kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue.

He moves his head down, dragging his teeth over your collarbones and chest until they nip at the soft skin of your tits. A pained little moan escapes your mouth as he bites down on your swollen nipple.

“For fun, huh?” Phillip asks.

Phillip drags his teeth to the other, doing the same thing. You moan again, twisting your fingers in his hair and rubbing your cunt over the crotch of his jeans. He’ll finish before he even touches you if you keep doing that.

He stands up to his full height and pushes his hips away. With a hard tug your panties are ripped off your body, eliciting a yelp from you, and stuffed into his jeans pocket. There’s not much light now, the sun has fully set and the street lamp flickers in the distance.

But it’s enough light to see your swollen tits and the glisten of your pussy. His cock feels trapped in his jeans and his mouth waters at the sight of your cunt. Graves knows there isn’t time, there isn’t enough privacy even if this lot is abandoned. It doesn’t stop him from kneeling to swipe his tongue through your folds. Your back arches at the sudden contact.

“Phillip,” you whimper.

Even the taste of you is perfect. It’s sticky sweet in his mouth and he wishes he could spend his time on you, no matter how much you infuriate him.

“No, you didn’t do it for fun,” he mutters, “you did it to get my attention. Didn’t you, sugar?”

Phillip unzips his jeans and takes out his thick cock, wrapping a hand around it to give it a few tugs and relieve the pressure. You haven’t responded to his question, too preoccupied with the sight of his cock. He slaps the inside of your thigh and brings your eyes back to him.

“And if I say yes?” you tease in a shaky voice, spreading your thighs wider and dragging a hand down to spread open your cunt.

He rubs the plush head over your folds and up to your clit, the both of you moaning at the contact.

“Expensive way of trying to get my attention, baby.”

Phillip moves your hand away and wraps your thigh around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to plunge into your cunt. You throw your head back onto the hood of the car, any words you were going to say now trapped in your throat.

Graves can feel every pulse of your hot cunt. You grip him in such a tight heat that he goes blind for a second. Monaco, the arguments, the times you’ve stolen from him or taken his money–all of it has boiled down to this moment.

“Fuck–,” he moans, “perfect little pussy.”

This is part punishment for all the times you’ve robbed him blind and part pleasure for all the times he’s wanted to sink into your pussy. The scent of your perfume and your warmth makes him dizzy.

You claw at his arms, dig your nails into his skin, mark him after every rough plunge of his hips. He’ll have scratches tomorrow, but none of it matters at this moment.

“So needy,” Phillip says, “aren’t you, doll?”

You barely manage to whimper out a yes, sir.

Graves hikes your knee up to your chest and pounds faster. His tip reaches the end of you with each thrust and he revels in the fucked-out look on your face. The car shakes slightly at the force of his hips but you don’t seem to mind, probably haven’t even noticed.

“Sir, huh? Only when I fuck you, do you show me respect?”

“More, sir–please, oh God,” you cry out, twisting your hips in small circles.

Sweat gathers on his hairline and underneath his polo. He can feel the familiar twinge in his lower stomach and the heaviness in his balls. He’s close and Phillip wants you there with him. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, shivering slightly as you begin to suck and lick with your wet tongue.

He takes it out of your mouth and shushes you once you try to grab onto his hand, immediately rubbing your clit in harsh circles that have you squeezing his thick length. It doesn’t take long for him to feel the sudden tightness and gush of your pussy. You flood your joined, lower bodies, making it easier for him to fuck you faster. What a sight the both of you are. A pretty girl like you being fucked silly on the hood of your car.

“Fucking brat,” Phillip groans.

His fingers sink into your thigh and he uses your body as leverage to fuck you. You’ve gone soft and moldable in his arms, letting him fuck you at the rough pace he chooses. There’s only the wet squelch of your cunt and the whimpers of pleasure that are heard throughout the abandoned lot.

His body goes numb and he’s finishing inside of you, holding onto your hips and forcing you down on his cock. Graves fills you up, letting his cum paint your insides. You moan and twitch underneath him as you feel him cum.

“Take it, doll. Ta–take it, f’me,” he stutters.

It takes all his strength not to collapse on top of you. Phillip staggers slightly from the force of his orgasm but he rights himself. He runs his hands over your thighs as to slow his heart rate, moving a hand to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips.

“Okay, doll?” he asks after a few moments.

“Mhmm,” you answer in a tired voice.

“Can you stand f’me?”

You laugh and slowly sit up. Phillip fixes your dress and helps you stand, holding onto your arms as you teeter on your high heels.

“You okay to drive, sugar?”

“Look at you,” you slur your words slightly, “who knew the Commander was so sweet after sex.”

Phillip rolls his eyes and helps you into the driver’s seat, slapping your ass hard before you can enter the car.

“Quit stealing from me. I hope you learned your lesson, doll.”

“You just gave me a shitload of money and fucked me hard enough that my legs are still shaking,” you say, “I think I like this, actually.”

You drive off and leave Phillip standing by his truck, his heart still beating fast and a stupid smile on his face.

#phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x female reader #phillip graves smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #phillip graves #cod mw2 smut #graves x reader #graves x you #shadowlali

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ravenna-reid · 4 months

Text

Battle Scars

Reader is from a planet of warriors. A planet where each scar is seen as honourable rather than ugly. When she accidentally sees Jason's scars, she can't help but look at them in amazement, much to Jason's surprise...

I really hope ya'll like this one...lmk!!

"Come on, lift you arms."

With an agitated sigh, Jason did as Dick asked and raised his muscled arms. Dick quickly pulled Jason's bloodied and torn shirt from his body and threw it to the floor, analysing the gash that sat across Jason's chest.

"What, did you get into a with Catwoman or something?" Tim asked, grimacing as he looked at the gruesome scene.

""I'll break your nose replacement." Venom coated his words, and Jason's expression read that he wasn't joking, so with that, Tim shook his head and left the room.

Just outside wandering the empty halls of Wayne manor was the girl Batman had found just a month prrior. Tall and toned, carved muscles on your arms and legs. A slick scar the colour of pearls ran down the side of your jaw to the top of your neck. A few more decorated your back and arms. A stern expression and soft eyes. You were a warrior from another planet Bruce had told everyone. He wasn't sure what planet though, seeming as whenever you told him the name, no records of it could be found. Not even those on the Justice League could find the unusual planet you were calling home. .

You weren't Kryptonian and you weren't an Amazon, even though your ideals and principles aligned with theirs. Nor were you a Martian, or an Atlantean or a Tamaranean. So what the hell were you?

Well, you kept telling them over and over. You were Idorian, from Idoria, but your home planet was apparently non-existent. 'A part of another timeline' was the theory.

"Non-existent as far as you're concerned." You had muttered with the roll of your eyes.

All they knew was that you'd accidentally been dragged to Earth when an incident a few months back involving portals and timelines threw you down from the sky into Bruce Wayne's garden. They also learnt that you had immense strength and durability. You could fly. You almost bested Wonder Woman in melee combat, almost. And electricity didn't affect you one bit. Other than that, you were a complete mystery.

And a certain seemingly uninterested vigilante seemed to liked that.

Tim watched as you looked out the grand windows lining the hallway, still amazed by the fact that Earth only had one sun.

A warm smile grew on his face. "Hey y/n, what are you doing?"

"Nothing much. You?"

Tim shrugged. "I was helping Dick mend Jason until I was threatened." He scoffed, trying to mask it with a bitter laugh.

A warmth grew in your cheeks at the mention of his name. Why? You had no idea.

"Why, what happened to him -?"

"Tim! You took the antiseptic with you!" Dick suddenly called out from the room, Jason's annoyed mumbles following.

Tim let out a huff, much to your confusion, "I don't wanna go back in there with that son of a bitch."

"It's alright, I can if you want." You offered, holding out your hand and questioning what a son of a bitch was. Humans were easily injured compared to your people, so it would be interesting to see the healing process.

"Are you sure?" Tim asked, his brow raising, "He can be a real ass, especially when people are trying to help him."

"Yeah, I'm sure." You replied, so Tim placed the odd looking bottle in your hands before you walked into the room.

Your footsteps echoed through the atmosphere. Instantly, Jason's eyes snapped up to meet yours, his cheeks burning a subtle red before he quickly looked away. A wince escaped him as he tried to subtly cover up his body. Too bad my shirt is on the damn floor he thought to himself. Picking up on Jason's change in demeanour, Dick turned to look at you, a charming grin appearing on his face immediately.

"Y/n! I haven't seen you in ages, how are you?" Dick had just finished pulling out the last shard of glass from Jason's slash and dropped the bloody tweezers on the tray beside him.

"I'm fine thank-you. Here is...well, this." You said, holding the bottle out to him. "Tim gave it to me."

"Thanks, y/n." He grabbed the bottle from you then looked back at the array of medical supplies sprawled across the table beside him. Hands cupped together in his lap, Jason stole glances of you here and there, glad that you were more interested in the odd looking tools Dick was focusing on rather than him.

"Shit, I just realised I forgot the stuff for the stitches," Dick turned to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, "I'm just gonna run and grab some things. Can you watch him for me real quick?"

"I don't need a babysitter Dick." Jason quipped, his eyes trained on his brother. Please just let her leave.

"I don't mind." You responded, and that usual glint of joy passed through Dick's eyes.

"Thanks, I'll be back in a sec."

With that, Dick left the room, leaving you two alone.

"Why did you do that?"

You looked over at Jason with a puzzled look, "What do you mean?"

"You don't have to watch me. You can go if you like." Jason swallowed hard, doing his best to act unfazed by the fact that you were standing right there.

"It's alright, I'm kind of curious to see how this all works on your planet."

His gaze averted back onto the floor, his body instinctively turned from you. You, however, were watching him. The wound had stopped bleeding, and it didn't look too deep, but it stretched across one side of his chest and onto his bicep. Looking at his arms, you couldn't help but think about how he looked like those perfect sculptures back home.

"Does it hurt?"

"No." So curt. So closed off. You were going to remain quiet until you did a double take. Silver streaks painted his chest. His abdomen and arms. There were even some on his back that caught your eye.

"Wow." The words fell from your lips, and Jason's eyes cut back to you.

"What?" He asked, meaning to sound more curious than defensive.

You walked over to where he sat, eyes trained on all of his scars. All of his accomplishments. Back at home, whenever someone attained a scar, it meant they had cheated death. They had been lucky and strong enough to survive. It was why you never hid yours. A scar is a victory. A glorious one too. And Jason had many victories.

A sickening tightening sensation began in Jason's throat as you neared, still obviously oblivious to personal space, especially Jason's. He watched as you stared at his biggest insecurities, the things that would taint his body forever and remind him of the horrors he was forced to endure. Immediately, he grew even more self-conscious. Sick. Angry.

"What the hell are you doing?" He snapped, but you ignored it.

"If the elders back home saw this, they'd call you a war hero." You let a light laugh.

His frown faltered a little, his glistening eyes watching you intensely. It was as though your eyes were tracing each and every tarnished bit of his skin. "You have so many."

His frown was back, a shot of anger burning through his chest at your comment. Why did you of all people have to say that? Jason drew in a deep, shaky breath, but before he could speak you told him how impressive it all was, and now the frown was even deeper than before. "What?"

You looked up at him, and suddenly his head was reeling. Jason found that some part of him, a hidden away part that was deep deep down, wanted you to look at him like that for the rest of his life. A look that said he was worth something. That he wasn't this ugly, scarred monster. Skin crawling and muscles tensed, he managed to ignore it. Just for now. Just this once. He quickly cleared his throat as he waited for your explanation.

"Your scars...they- you have so many victories." You repeated, "Many more than me." You pulled the sleeve of your shirt back to show him. Jason's eyes ran along the silver lines on your arms before his attention turned to your skin. The muscles on your arms. The glossy hair that ran over your shoulder. His eyes drew up your neck to your lips...

He quickly looked away, shame and bashfulness so blatantly evident on his face.

"What do you mean..." His tone was distant, until he paused. "Victories?" Now he was curious.

You frowned. "What do you mean? Scars are honourable. They show strength. Tell stories. You must be a valiant fighter. A survivor." You smiled at him gently, pointing your finger at them. And it was like something got caught in his throat.

Silence washed over the room like a soft wave. Jason kept to himself as his big, bright eyes watched you. He turned your words in his head, amazed at how you viewed this topic. He almost waited for you to correct yourself or take the compliment back. Because there was no way. No way you were truly being honest about how you viewed the ugliest parts of himself. Everyone had always looked at his scars that same way, with pity and aversion. And yet you...

"You really think like that?" He asked, looking up at you through his dishevelled, raven hair.

"Doesn't everyone?"

A soft, subtle smile tugged at Jason's lips, and suddenly your heart was hammering in your chest, faster than a hiccup. Jason watched you attentively now, still shy, but not as ashamed or ill at ease. Since when was he so comfortable around others, especially a stranger? Especially about the things that kept him up at night? Especially with someone that was on his mind 24/7....

Dick suddenly bursted back into the room, a needle and bobbin of nylon string in his hand. "Sorry Jace, had to get Alfred to look for it."

Jason shook his head at Dick as he got started on stitching him back up. "I can do it myself you know -"

"Shut it." Dick responded.

Jason's gaze fell back onto you and he almost felt like collapsing when you said you'd leave them be and see them later. You realised the longer you stood with him, the lighter your head was becoming. So with that, you left the room, and all Jason could think about for the rest of the day was you.

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

Text

please kiss me when you leave | k. bakugou

★ tags ; gn!reader, fluff, reader is a programmer (lol), making up, wee bit of angst, established relationship, arguing, reader is very chill and relaxed

★ wc ; 2.7k (idk either)

★ synopsis ; in the rare moments you and your boyfriend get in a spat, he thinks to himself how terrible it'd be to lose you.

★ a/n ; sorry about projecting on reader. it will happen again.

Katsuki fucked up.

Majorly. Inconceivably. Astronomically.

For the first time in his three year relationship, he's made a terrible mistake and the consequences are beginning to weigh on his conscious.

First things first, Katsuki is not a boyfriend who makes a lot of mistakes. Contrary to popular belief, his anger issues actually don't make dating difficult because his egoism and pride step-in first. If he's going to do anything, he's going to be the best at it. And anything getting in the way of that can respectfully, fuck off.

Despite some of the rockiness in the getting together stage of your relationship, when he finally made it official, things were as smooth as they could be. Before then was awful of course. Because vulnerability and love aren't things you can win at no matter how hard you try. Getting to boyfriend was like climbing a mountain naked.

But at the summit, all the snow cleared and Katsuki could finally rest easy. You met on the job when the Dynamight Agency signed a contract with you to make some technical software for them. You were the Senior Dev. responsible for it.

Truthfully, Katsuki hated you at first. For one, you were too non-chalant about all of it. It's a professional job but you showed up to work in the most unprofessional attire. To his credit your hygiene was decent but the workspace you and your team occupied was a mess. You had a bad diet, and an even worse sleep schedule.

You were a mess. Katsuki didn't like or respect you. He figures all tech people are freaks like that. All of the support engineers are nut-cases, so why would you be any different? But you were recommended to him by Deku who gushed about how smoothly everything was running with the new changes.

He didn't know anything about your job. And he didn't really understand it until he caught you half-falling asleep at your computer trying to finish something. It was probably the first time he came into the office and you were still there finishing up work - nearing 6am and clearly not having slept that he started to respect you a little.

From then on, his sense of responsibility for you grew. Mother hen tendencies and all. You and Katsuki are complete opposites in a lot of ways. Where he's hot-headed, you're relaxed. Where he's cold and calculating, you're strangely warm and sympathetic. Another shitty nerd in his life, he's fond of. Go figure.

It took him a long time to figure out his romantic feelings for you. The first work function you ever attended where you looked.. good. He felt it strike like an iron, a sense of dread overwhelming him as his heart fluttered at the sight of you.

("...You clean up decent." Katsuki stutters, trying to catch his breath.

You flash a smile that sends him reeling.

"Thanks, boss.")

From then on, through a series of mishaps and sad phone-calls - Katsuki managed to land the boyfriend position. And from there, your relationship has been considerably easy going.

A big reason for that is because you're much better with feelings than he is. You're reasonable about your own emotional affairs. In the many years Katsuki's tantrums might've caused a rift, you've handled him with care. Of course, he does his absolute best to accommodate you back. To support you, almost trying to make it up to you where he can.

But his mistakes have always been small, and petty. Even when they're bigger - you manage them like they're just small blips in the timeline. Gently and softly. You don't raise your voice even if he agitates you. It always works out. Katsuki tries very hard not to do anything that he would make you really angry.

In fact, he's never even seen you really angry. Maybe upset or annoyed, but angry? Once in his life if that. His friends and family often bestow you the title saint to which you always laugh but you are remarkably patient with him that he doesn't think it's undeserved.

So what happened last night was a a big fuck up on his part.

Last night, he came home from a long mission.

The only rule you have with Katsuki is that if something happens, you have to talk about it. This rule includes other rules, such as being able to delay said conversation for a better day and other veto privileges. But if something important happens, big or small - the other person has to know. That's law to abide by.

Last night, Katsuki came home from a long mission and he was exhausted. Nothing bad happened but his patience was running thin due to a series of unfortunate events and he wanted to come home and sleep. And he could feel the pressure of it starting to eat at him.

Everyone has tough days and this was his. Most of this could've been solved if he had just told you. If he had simply used the second rule to delay the conversation. You would've quietly slept next to him like you always did, no questions asked.

But he was tired and delirious and for some reason he decided to open his big fucking mouth. When you had very gently inquired about his mood, he immediately went silent. Then when you went and asked again, he snapped on you.

He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn't mean any of it.

"God, can't you read the fucking room? Do I have to spell it out for you? I don't want to talk about it right now."

He felt it immediately. The once warm room filling with a cold tension. He couldn't even lift his head, too steeped in his anger to apologize right away. It was suffocating. How long you stood there, feet planted on the floor.

And then from above him, there was a shaky sigh and a thick voice. You were upset, obviously. Too much for words. In a terrifying turn of events - you didn't even get angry. He wishes you got angry and loud. That you could've fought this out.

But you didn't. Of course not. You just sighed, frustration teeming in your voice and said.

"Right. Find me when you want to talk. I'm gonna rest in the guest room."

Obviously trying to hold it in, you took your pillows and quietly went upstairs and slept in the guest room. And Katsuki sat there for god knows how long, regretting everything. He shouldn't have done that. He wanted to sleep next to you.

When the next morning rolled around, Katsuki wasn't expecting it to be brushed over. And it wasn't, not in the way you tried to pretend things were fine. You still set out warm towels for his shower. Made his protein shake and left it on the counter. Put his hero costume up on the couch for him to take.

And you still greeted him with a tired good morning. But he could tell that you weren't all there. It was awkward. Like there was a stranger in his house and not the person he's been in love with for the last 5 years.

Silent. He's so accustomed to your morning chattiness. Rambling about the dream you had, the movie you watched, the bugs in your code you fixed. All of it disappeared in an instant. You didn't kiss him when he left for work, pausing to blabber in between before kissing him again. Running to the train so you weren't late.

You just left. Told him you'd be working off-site for a bit and that it's your turn to make dinner. He should let you know what he wants to eat.

You stood at the door, obviously debating something and then left with a short side-hug and no kiss. No kiss. He hasn't not gotten a kiss before going to work in years. He's so hung up on it he can't believe it.

It was probably right there, kiss-less in his kitchen that he realize he fucked up beyond reasonably doubt. The feeling was awful, but you were already on your way to work before he could scramble to say something.

Katsuki is bad with apologies. It's not that he isn't sorry, but he tries his best to make up for all of his short-comings with his actions and hopes people can forgive him. That he can be a good enough person that the one, choked-out sorry can be enough of a fix and that the rest can be solved with his consistent remorse.

And he does apologize to you often enough, about small and trivial things. But this doesn't really feel small and trivial. It's the kind of fight that feels like a rift, maybe that he'd gotten too complacent. The terror sets in before the rational does and all Katsuki can think is that he has to make it up to you somehow. Somehow.

He doesn't have patrols today. The only thing on the agenda is meeting with Deku about a partnership program they want to create for new heroes. Only the two of them to discuss logistics.

He can't focus at all though. Fuck.

"Kacchan?"

Deku's voice cuts into his focus once it register. He looks up from the empty space he was peering into, suddenly aware of his surroundings. A scowl settles on his features, though he's not actually mad.

"What, nerd."

"You okay? You seem off." He replies, that concerned and overly-welcoming tone. His scowl deepens.

"Fuck off."

"So there is something," Deku concludes, in a way that makes Katsuki want to punch him square in the mouth "Is it Y/N?"

"Why the fuck do you know that?"

"Uhm. Well. You're doing your sad scowl and not your mad one. And normally you only really get sad about like 3 things. Y/N makes the most sense."

Katsuki makes a face of disgust.

"You're such a goddamn freak."

Deku smiles disarmingly.

"So what's up?"

"Fuck off with that therapist shit," He says first, then relents because of course "...Got in an argument. I fucked up pretty bad."

Katsuki relays the events with a sense of dread as Deku nods and listens empathetically like he always does. And Katsuki wants to crawl up in a fucking hole for even opening up, maybe a sign of his desperation.

"That bad?" Deku asks.

"Didn't get a kiss before they left and that hasn't happened in like 3 years."

"That's so sappy, Kacchan." Deku gushes.

"Shut up if you value your life." Katsuki says with no real heat behind. He watches the nerd think on it for a while, doing some analysis he cares fuck all about before snapping his fingers.

"Have you apologized yet?"

Katsuki grits his teeth. Deku sighs.

"Kacchan."

More silence.

"Kacchan."

"Fuck you, I already know okay! But I'm just.. so fucking anxious about it. Like I know it's not the end of the world, but it just feels so damn bad."

Deku smiles in that weird, loving way that Katsuki hates.

"That's because you care about them, Kacchan. It's gonna be fine."

"Gross."

Deku laughs again and Katsuki finds himself relieved just a little. Which he resents, of course. But it's better than feeling whatever he was feeling a few hours ago so he lets it be.

He spends the rest of the day coming up with an apology plan and seeing it through to the end. If he was gonna say sorry, he might as well go all out.

He calls in a florist shop first, sat at his desk and asking for whatever flowers are best apology flowers. Then he calls your favorite place to eat and makes sure he can get take-out hot for the drive home. At the end of his work day, he stops by to get some shitty balloons with sorry on them and even buys the ugliest teddy bear he can find at the store because he knows he would like it.

Then he drives home with a pit in his stomach, feeling terribly stupid and a little ridiculous for being so worried about it. Because he knows it probably will be fine, but he won't relax until he's home. Until he sees you and everything is fine again.

When he finally gets home and hauls ass with the assortment of Apology Gifts he's brought - he doesn't actually find you anywhere in the house.

He knows you're there though. Because your shoes are in the doorway and your bag is on the counter but he can't find you.

It occurs to him that your showering when he hears a god-awful tune that unburdens him just a little and he decides to hijack your shower. Because he thinks that apologizing like that will probably be a whole lot easier.

So, he steps into the shower and announces his presence. There's steam fogging everything up and he's still dressed in his work clothes. He can hear your humming come to a halt as he closes the door behind him and sits on the sink.

He feels fidgety. The warm room and the smell of your bodywash relax his nerves.

"Hey," He starts. You're silent but he can hear you scrubbing so he keeps going "Just got home. I brought food so,"

And it's still quiet. Your movements have softened and there's less of an echo. Katsuki frowns.

"Look, last night," He starts afain, then stops - closing his eyes and swallowing the pit forming in his stomach "What I said. I don't know what the fuck I was thinkin' I mean... I didn't mean any of that."

Still quiet, Katsuki sighs and bites his lip.

"And nothin' really happened. Just a long mission, undercover sucks and everything was going wrong and obviously I was pissed. Not at you, never at you - I shouldn't have—fuck me, I'm ramblin' aren't I?"

He looks up at the ceiling, glances at the door, then at the shower curtain.

"I'm really sorry, baby. Really fucking sorry. Been feeling shitty about it all day."

Before he can grovel anymore, the water turns off. All of a sudden, the curtain rips open and before he knows what to do with himself - he feels your hands on his neck. You're still half in the shower, naked and dripping and your hands are wet.

But you're pulling him into a kiss and Katsuki couldn't care less about the circumstances. The tension in his chest eases completely, melts away likes it nothing and he puts a hand on your wrist. He feels like he could cry. Fuck, what happened to him? Is this what love does to people? Make 'em feel stupid?

When you pull away, you give him an audacious grin. Pleased and warm and so full of love that he could rip apart at the seams just looking at it. All the affection in your gestures that he's grown so fond of rekindle and light him anew. He loves you so much it nearly hurts to look at you.

"You're such a worry wart, aren'tcha Kat?"

He kisses you one more time, thankful you won't point out his desperation.

"Shitty bastard."

"Get me my towel so I can kiss you properly."

"...I'll help dry you off." He says. Once again, you just smile with trembling lips like you want to giggle at him but don't. Even so, you do as he asks.

He grabs a towel and drys you off slowly and patiently. You smile at him the whole time before he grabs another one to wrap around you neat. Like you promise, you kiss him for a long time after. Arms wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the blonde hairs on the back of his head.

"Thanks for saying sorry, baby." You say first before you coo at him "I forgive you. I'm not mad. I wasn't even mad this morning, just wanted to give you some space."

"...Even if you're pissed, kiss me before you leave," He mutters, embarrassment flooding his face "Please."

You snort.

"Promise, I will. I love you. You know that, right?"

He nods because he does, really always does. Deep down, despite the terror he feels at the idea you'll stop - he knows he loves you. But as everyday passes, he's faced with the reality that he loves you more. With an even heavier hand and much more force than he thought possible.

That corny shit people say about loving someone more everyday. He thinks he's starting to get it. At his own state, he laughs against your lips.

"Yeah I know. I love you too."

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #writing tag

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