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lemony-snickers · 1 year

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it's been 84 years again...

Title: Scent of a Camellia, part 3 of ? (part two here) Chapter Three: verbena bonariensis; 美女桜 / Bijozakura / Verbena / "Cooperative" Word Count: 4,547 Warnings: extremely loose interpretation of police work & accounting, not proofread by any means whatsoever

beautiful netflix poster by the lovely @mrs-hatake can be seen here. <3 .

It starts small. One crate, every other week. Tsunade Senju doesn’t walk back into the shop again, but you can sometimes see her peering at you from a half-open back window of a tinted car parked outside Root & Stem.

It’s Kakashi you deal with, though. And that’s much easier because he doesn’t seem like the sort of person to let a little sarcasm or challenge through him off course.

Tsunade is less predictable; you think she wouldn’t take kindly to your occasionally acerbic responses to the situation, but Kakashi takes them in stride—teasing and flirting with you rather than getting annoyed, seeming to understand being asked to front for a criminal organization might not be everyone’s dream position. He lets you spar verbally with him without it impacting the arrangement or having you murdered.

The bell tinkles above his head every other Tuesday, always late enough in the day the shop is empty, and you wonder if they staked the place out before extending the agreement to you, watched to see when they could be certain you would be alone.

You don’t see who takes the crate. Kakashi always greets you and then walks straight through to the back of the shop to undo the deadbolt. He holds the door open, blocking the new camera you installed, as someone takes it away.

You never see what’s inside it, either, which is more frustrating. It’s always the same bland “SHOP OWNER” address, the same heavy crate that takes you seven and a half sweat-soaked minutes to drag inside from the loading dock—a far cry from the original half-hour, at least, as you’ve gotten used to the weight. Usually, Kakashi appears the same day the crate does, though on a few occasions, he arrives the day after.

When you ask Asuma if you can pry the crate open when this happens the second time, he growls at you through your phone, “Do not—I repeat, do not—endanger yourself or your assignment because of fucking curiosity. You got that, Detective?”

“Yes, sir,” you say, gnawing roughly at your bottom lip.

The next day, Kakashi saunters in, as unbothered as ever, greeting you with a grating, “Afternoon, sweetheart,” as he makes way through the shop. You grit your teeth as you listen to the best evidence against Tsunade Senju scrape its way out the back door and try to remember Asuma’s assurance that it’s not only Tsunade you’re after, but the entire Sannin organization.

You’re so deep in your brooding, you hardly notice Kakashi’s return to counter until he asks, a little too loudly, “How much do I owe you?”

You’re careful not to give away your surprise at his proximity—that you hadn’t heard him return from the back is a problem you’ll chastise yourself for privately later—and make some perfunctory notes in your ledger, not bothering to look up at him.

“Kind of in a hurry here, sweetheart.”

You don’t even roll your eyes at the insulting nickname as you slide a bouquet across the counter and give him a random total, knowing he’ll hand you an envelope with many times the actual worth of the flowers, regardless of what you say.

When you don’t feel the weight of the envelope immediately in your open palm, you do finally flick your eyes up to meet his.

“Something wrong?” you ask, but Kakashi just smirks.

“I just wanted to see those pretty eyes before I left.”

He hands you the money and turns on his heels to leave without another word.

You refuse to admit your face feels warm as the bell chimes his leaving.

Two weeks later, it’s the same. Kakashi walks in, giving you a two-fingered salute on his way past the counter. You hear the deadbolt slide open, the scrape of the heavy crate over the tiles—the deliveries have worn a terrible gouge in the floor already—and then the door closes again, the deadbolt returned to its rightful place.

Kakashi never places an actual order for a bouquet—not since those first two—so you’ve taken to experimenting with the arrangements you give him, using them as an opportunity to improve your feigned craft. Just because you’re undercover doesn’t mean you can’t take pride in your work, after all, and practice makes… better, at least.

You’ll never be a good florist, certainly, but you can at least be a fair one.

Sometimes, when you’re tired or particularly irritated, you provide him a simple bunch of the same blooms, daisies or carnations when you have too many of them or they’re beginning to wilt, roses once when the person who ordered the bouquet never showed to pick it up—a tale of heartbreak, no doubt, which you occupy yourself cultivating the rest of that afternoon, spinning tales of young lovers kept apart by circumstance or family until you’re finally able to go home.

More often, though, you take your time creating something a little ostentatious. Partly because you still have a lot of dead time to fill in the shop—as evidenced by your daydreaming of star-crossed, flowerless lovers—and partly because you find it amusing to watch him awkwardly exit the shop with an arrangement so big it obscures his vision. You imagine Tsunade Senju’s indignant sputtering when he brings the over-the-top thing into her car and the visual of her sneezing as the pungent floral scent hits her nose prompts a self-satisfied smile to spread a little viciously across your face.

Today is such a day. When Kakashi returns to the front of the shop, he whistles, looking at the bouquet resting near your elbow, all ready for him.

“Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have,” he says dramatically, picking up the arrangement and turning it in his grasp, admiring the sprawling dahlias and ferns, the bright orange lilies. “You’re getting much better.”

You hardly spare him an exasperated glance as you answer, “Nice to know my floral arrangements now appeal to criminals who don’t pay for them. I’ll be sure to put that on my next flyer.”

You don’t expect the deep roar of laughter your half-hearted sarcasm pulls from Kakashi’s mouth and you actually jump, snapping your pencil in half because the sound startles you so.

When you look at him, Kakashi’s whole face is lit with amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs, head tilted back, the bouquet still clasped in one hand.

Your eyebrows draw tight together as you frown. “It wasn’t that funny,” you mumble, taken aback by his response.

“No, it wasn’t,” Kakashi says as his laughter finally comes under control, “it’s just…” he starts, dark eyes appraising you openly, “when I first walked in here, I thought you were going to be such a dull little mouse and you’re not, you’re… more like a spider, somehow. Small and unassuming, with an unexpected bite.”

He snaps his jaw on the last consonant and your scalp tingles at the sharp sound of his teeth colliding. Your mouth attempts to curve up at the ends in response to the compliment, but you refuse to let it as Kakashi continues to inspect your handiwork.

“You do have a really lovely eye for color,” he says finally, plopping the overfull envelope down on the counter as a car horn blares from outside—Tsunade, no doubt, impatient for his return. “See you soon.”

The compliment lingers with you the rest of the day, replaying through your mind as you staple receipts to invoices and reconcile your little handwritten ledger with the accounting documents on the ancient computer in your office.

You do have a really lovely eye for color.

It’s a stupid thing to take pride in, but you feel your chest swell with the feeling, anyway, as you lock up the shop and head back to your apartment.

All the payments you’ve received from Kakashi—minus whatever arbitrarily charged price you subtract for the actual bouquets you provide him—are stashed in a portable safe in your closet. When you get home, you roll the thing out and use your thumb to pop open the door, setting the envelope inside, the date and amount already scrawled on the outer flap.

You stare at the contents of the safe for a long while that night, mentally calculating how much money is currently in your possession.

Nearly as much as your annual salary, after just over two months of taking deliveries. You wonder again how any reasonable person could turn down such an opportunity at wealth, especially if they were already struggling.

When Kakashi offered you the deal originally, he made it sound like you could decline, like it was nothing more than a business proposition between equals. He was certainly good at his job, because you almost believed him, despite all the evidence to the contrary—the crime scene photos of civilians who hadn’t agreed to work with the Sannin when similar such offers were made.

Your police ID and the case file on the Sannin, as well as Teuchi and Ayame’s disappearance, are also kept in the safe, away from any potentially prying eyes. Sometimes, you pull out the files to reread them before bed, or simply gaze at the happily smiling faces of the father daughter duo when you need a reminder of why you’re working such a dull job. Tonight, you don’t bother, simply closing the door and waiting for the telltale hum and beep as the safe locks again before stowing it away in your closet.

Asuma doesn’t call, so you order some takeout for pickup, enjoying the walk to Yakiniku-Q, hands shoved into the pockets of your light bomber jacket.

Your apartment is a not unreasonable walk to and from Root & Stem, which has certainly made the new commute tolerable. When it does finally get too cold, you can take the train one stop to cut the walk in half, which will help.

You smell Yakiniku-Q before you see it, inhaling the aroma greedily as your stomach rumbles.

Maybe you shouldn’t have ordered takeout, you think, because you’re not sure you’ll make it back to your apartment before ripping open the bag and stuffing your face in the middle of the street.

Choji greets you when you walk in, and you smile.

“Hey, Choji, I placed an order to-go.”

“No problem Miss Takiko, just a second!”

You don’t bother to correct him as he bustles toward the kitchen in search of your order, too hungry to bother. Instinctively, your eyes scan each of the tables in the small restaurant, cataloguing faces and body language—always looking for any signs of someone or something out of place.

You smile a little when you see your handiwork scattered throughout the restaurant—powdery blue morning glories and yellow chrysanthemums.

You don’t allow your gaze to linger on the circular booth in the back once you recognize its occupants, though you want nothing more than to stare or slide in beside them to hear what they’re discussing. Your fists clench a little tighter in your jacket pockets, but you still manage to greet Choji with a friendly smile when he returns with your order, pay him with cash and assure him you can carry the overstuffed bag—it looks like maybe they threw in a few extras for you—just fine on your own.

You take the train back to your apartment, so you’ll get there faster, and abandon your dinner on the counter the moment you’re inside, instead shucking your coat and pulling out your cellphone to call Asuma.

He answers on the second ring.

“What’s wrong?” he asks—no preamble, no niceties. He knows if you’re calling, there’s a purpose.

“I think the Sannin are trying to broker a deal with the Uchiha.”

You get no sleep that night, going over and over and over your observations with Asuma and eventually his father. There’s little to go on, but much to speculate.

“You’re certain?” Hiruzen asks again, voice gruff from not only smoking but exhaustion.

“Yes, Sir. Tsunade Senju, her associate Kakashi Hatake, and Fugaku Uchiha were seated together. I also saw the back of someone’s head. Based on the hair, I’d say likely Fugaku’s son Itachi, but I can’t be sure. Definitely an Uchiha, though.”

“Fugaku wouldn’t go without at least one other,” Hiruzen agrees.

The revelation is apparently as surprising to the two Sarutobi officers as it was to you. The Uchiha had been so careful since the botched undercover mission led by Anko. Her attempts to infiltrate the organization had only driven them further underground, making it increasingly difficult for any law enforcement agency to track their movements.

Last anyone knew, Madara Uchiha was still the leader of the crime family, but Fugaku’s appearance with one of the Sannin hints there may be trouble brewing in the ranks, or even that a coup might have already quietly taken place.

You’re not sure whether stumbling on Fugaku’s meeting with Tsunade is fortuitous or ominous, but you know it will mean hours of research and investigation on the parts of your comrades at the police station.

You stay up late with Hiruzen and Asuma, devising a plan for additional undercover officers to stake out Yakiniku-Q and other places in Konoha once frequented by the Uchiha. The first rays of sun are peeking through your windows by the time you finally eat your dinner, and you manage no more than a cold shower before you drag yourself back out the door of your apartment to Root & Stem.

It is this exhaustion, you decide, which is to blame for your unobservant nature. Because when you get to the shop, clambering in through the back door a bit more noisily than usual, it takes much longer than it should for you to realize you are not alone.

The light is on in your office, and you can hear the chair squeak beneath someone’s shifting weight.

Your .38 is concealed in a hidden compartment of your bag, but you worry using it might blow your cover depending on who’s snooping through your records. Instead, you drop the bag to the ground, pull a pair of garden shears from a hook by the door, and creep slowly toward the office, listening for any movement from within.

Whoever’s there must certainly have heard you enter the shop, so any chance of catching them by surprise is long gone.

Instead, you play your part of the terrified shop owner well, calling out a timid, “Who’s there? I have a weapon!” as you get closer.

The faint chuckle gives away your intruder’s identity before you swing into the open doorway, shears held before you like you’re giving an interview using a particularly pointed microphone.

Kakashi Hatake leans back in your ancient computer chair, feet propped up on your desk and hands folded over his middle. His smirk is infuriating and part of you wants to jab the garden shears into his eye until he stops smiling for good.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?”

You drop the shears, glaring at him irritably. “What are you doing here?”

It’s a fair question, even for Takiko to ask, and Kakashi knows it. Your eyes flick to the computer screen, noting that he’s already closed out of whatever he was prying into because all that remains visible is a YouTube video of puppies struggling to walk down a set of carpeted stairs.

“My internet’s out,” he says, gesturing toward the screen.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe. “How’d you get in?”

His smile broadens. “Is that really a question?” he asks, “I think you’re smart enough not be surprised.”

You shake your head in mock frustration and head toward the front of the shop, slamming the shears down on the counter as you begin turning on lights in preparation for opening.

“It is too early for this shit,” you mutter under your breath as you remove your jacket and pull your apron on instead.

Too early or too late, actually, you aren’t entirely sure which.

“I’m sorry to stop by unannounced,” Kakashi says as he joins you in the main shop area, not sounding at all sorry, “but I wanted to ask how your dinner was. I found the dumplings a tad overdone, myself.”

The hair at the back of your neck prickles, despite your training.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry?” you ask, turning to face him. “I’m not sure I follow.”

He stares at you for a moment longer than necessary, dark gaze measured and level as he sweeps his eyes over your entire body in a way that makes you feel suddenly self-conscious—and also immeasurably grateful you aren’t carrying a weapon anywhere on your person, certain he’d notice if you were.

“I know you saw us,” he says, all the teasing lilt in his voice replaced with cool finality, “Don’t play dumb, it’s beneath you.”

You clench your teeth and then shrug. “I assumed if you wanted me to be part of your dinner party, I would’ve been invited. I was just picking up takeout, anyway. The Akimichi family are good customers.”

Kakashi nods thoughtfully. “I thought I recognized your handiwork in the florals.”

You duck your eyes to avoid his piercing gaze and dig your toe into the floor.

“I didn’t mean to see you,” you whisper softly, “and it’s not like I’m going to say anything, even if I knew who you were talking to.”

Kakashi hums. “That would be wise,” he confirms, “Tsunade was not pleased to see you there last night. She doesn’t like mixing business with… other business.”

You snort, meeting his eyes again. “I don’t think Tsunade is ever pleased to see me.”

Kakashi chuckles a little. “You might be right, but she’s very particular, so I wouldn’t take it personally.”

You take a deep breath and continue setting up shop, pulling florals from the fridge behind the counter to set out on the display tables and watering the peace lilies and succulents. All the while, Kakashi watches you—you can feel his eyes on you like his stare actually has weight.

“Is there something else you need?” you ask, finally, “Because if you’re just going to stand there, you can at least make yourself useful and open the blinds or something.”

Kakashi says nothing, but walks to the windows and lifts the shades, letting the early morning sun bathe Root & Stem in soft golden light.

“You look tired,” he says when he finishes, “trouble at home?”

You hadn’t even bothered to put makeup on this morning, instead tossing some concealer and lip gloss into your bag for later. A decision which you now regret.

“Romantic trouble,” you offer quietly, “boyfriend’s not a fan of my new hours. Kept me up all night on the phone just to break up with me.”

“Really?” Kakashi asks, clearly skeptical, “mind if I see?”

You frown indignantly at him. “See what, exactly?”

“Your phone,” he says, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request. “Take a peek at the call logs.”

You shake your head, letting out an incredulous huff of laughter. “I don’t think we know one another that well,” you say.

But Kakashi’s face hardens, almost, imperceptibly, and he adds, “I’m not asking.”

You shake your head again before stomping to pick up your bag where you dropped it by the back door, tearing your cellphone out and tossing it at him so quickly you see the cool veneer crack just a little as he fumbles it.

“The passcode is 7-6-6-8.”

Kakashi mulls this for a moment and then smiles, “ROOT,” he says, “I like it.”

You watch as Kakashi opens your phone and begins swiping through your call logs. Asuma is, of course, saved under a different name—Iruka, the sweet high school boyfriend you left behind when you moved away for university. The nightly calls won’t seem suspicious for a relationship, and the long hours you spent on the phone last night will align well enough with your story.

“Huh,” Kakashi says, “cute.”

“What’s cute?” you ask, confused.

He turns your phone toward you, revealing a picture of you posing in a sundress at a street festival the previous summer, smile wide and bright as you enjoy the warm breeze, one hand holding a sunhat firmly in place on your head.

You swipe the device from his hands. “Give me that!” You quickly exit out of the album and lock the screen. “You can’t just go through someone else’s pictures, what’s wrong with you?”

Of course, anything remotely personal or not in line with your undercover identity has already been erased—just enough information left on the device to make it look like you use it. Mostly, that means photographs of floral arrangements used to populate Root & Stem’s meager social media profiles, as well as the occasional picture of food or a sunset.

How far back did he scroll to find that picture?

“To be honest, I was hoping maybe you would have something a little spicier in there,” he says, “maybe a photo you hoped might keep Iruka around.”

You throw a block of floral foam across the room, and it falls woefully short of its target, too light to carry itself all the way to Kakashi’s head, where you’d aimed. He picks up the block and pops it back on the counter, leaning across it toward you.

“You don’t text much,” Kakashi says.

“I’m not really a big fan. Prefer talking face-to-face.”

“Mm.”

You’re annoyed, and sure Kakashi can tell as much. You just hope he can’t also sense the underlying nervousness—or at least, if he does, you hope it’s the right amount for a shop keeper being scrutinized by her less than savory associate’s bodyguard and not a cop trying to maintain their cover.

Suddenly, you wonder if bodyguard is the right word for whatever Kakashi is to Tsunade.

“What are you doing with the cash we give you?” he asks, then. “It’s not in your records.”

You lean back against the wall behind the counter, careful not to jostle any of the vases on the display shelf.

“So that’s why you were on my computer.”

“Well, that and the adorable dog videos. Like I said, my internet is down.”

You stare at Kakashi for a moment before you respond to his original question. “I didn’t think accounting entries for monies illegally obtained were a good idea on my tax documents,” you explain, “so I’ve been keeping it separate, in a safe at my home.”

Kakashi tuts, shaking his head, “And what are you going to do with that money? Cash it in all at once? There will be questions about where it came from if you don’t start leaving a believable trail.”

You stare at him for a few extended seconds, “I don’t see how the way I use my money is any of your business.”

His lip curls cruelly on one side, “Now sweetheart, that’s where you’re very wrong. Because if questions arise about where you got that money, it could come back to us.”

“You mean to Tsunade,” you say flatly.

His smile broadens, as if he’s pleased with your straightforwardness, “Yes.”

“I used some of it for my takeout last night,” you lie, “should I expect the cops this afternoon?”

“I’m just saying, you should be careful. Running that money through your business as a legitimate payment of some kind will be better for everyone.”

“I’m sorry I’m not as creative an accountant as you hoped.”

“Oh,” he says, turning to lean his back against the counter as you move to the door to flip the little handmade sign on it from closed to open, “I think you’re plenty creative, I’ve already told you that.”

You do have a really lovely eye for color.

You roll your eyes. “Are you going to hang around all day? Because I will put you to work if so.”

Kakashi drums his fingers against the counter. “Actually, I was hoping you could make a bouquet for me.”

You scowl at him, unconvinced, but when he doesn’t move, you relent, “Any specifications?”

“Something beautiful,” he says softly, “it’s for an old friend.”

You try to tamp down your irritation as you set about your work, choosing some of your most spectacular blooms to include just because you’re irritated and want to show off a little.

Soft pink peonies, tufts of brilliant blue forget-me-nots, crisp white lily of the valley. Kakashi watches patiently as you work, adding sprigs of eucalyptus and sage for a fresh, herbal scent and soft tones of green before wrapping the stems in elastic overlaid with plain brown twine.

“Do you want a vase?” you ask, finally glancing up at him.

He smiles softly and it catches you off guard, how open and honest the expression seems on his face.

“No,” he says, “this is fine.”

You ring up the total and he pays without question. When you try to withdraw your hand, though, he catches your wrist.

“What are—”

But before you can ask what he’s doing, Kakashi already has a pen in hand—one no doubt stolen from your office earlier—and is scribbling a phone number onto your palm.

“That’s my personal line,” he says, clicking the pen closed and setting it on the counter. “You should text me some time. It would be good practice."

He turns to leave, “See you soon, sweetheart.” You’re certain he leans into the word because he knows you dislike it.

A little flustered, and still annoyed by his actions, you stomp around the counter, clenching your fist around the number inked onto your skin. “I have a name, you know,” you growl irritably.

Kakashi turns, smiling. But it’s not his usual self-assured smirk. It’s something else, something softer; more genuine. “Oh, I know,” he says, leaning forward until his lips are directly next to your ear. “See you soon, Takiko.”

He’s out the door too fast for you to react, but it still takes you a full minute to breathe normally after the bell stops chiming in his wake. When you finally look at your palm, the numbers are a little smudged from your clammy grip, but still legible.

You save his contact in your phone before you wash your hands and descend to the basement to retrieve a box of twine, having used almost the last of your spool on Kakashi’s bouquet. You can hear the bell announce the arrival of a customer and you curse, sprinting up the stairs with the box tucked under one arm.

But when you walk back into the shop, already apologizing, “Sorry about that! Welcome to Root & Stem, what can I…”

You trail off because there’s no one there. Instead, the only indication anyone stopped in at all is a tall to-go cup of steaming coffee on the counter beside a single pink peony.

You know without question who left them, and the knowledge settles in your belly like a stone skipping over water—heavy, laced with frenetic excitement.

It escapes your recollection at the time that the peony stands for bravery, but that doesn’t mean the gesture carries any less weight.

#lemony scribbles #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #fem!reader #slow burn #modern au #mafia au #flower shop au #kakashi fanfiction #this isn't new! i'm just catching up on things i posted to ao3 during my tumblr hibernation!#this is a queued post

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drfootharpoon · 6 months

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"Bailey Q"

Chapter 3: Scandal @ Stonehawk Lake

by V. Harpoon (2023)

Bailey Q doesn't know what she wants. You can see it in her unpainted face even as she sleeps. Currently she's passed out in my soft blue recliner. A complete Winnie the Pooh. Her black lacy bra hanging out of my oversized white Ramones tshirt. Her well-sculpted breasts are rising and falling softly. Her shaved, yet showing mild peach fuzz, raging cock is at full mast and her stomach is covered in Cheeto dust. Her purple pixie-cut hovers elegance within her aura. Mistress of a night so grateful.

I want to lick the dust off, but I'm too busy watching my guinea pigs leap about, whippling and whistling like birds. My eyes catch the lamplight dance off her sparkling toes. She's decided to paint them three different dark colors all splashed with a new silvery glitter coat.

I helped her with dinner tonight and she was waddling about like a duck. Toes up high. Heels stomping. I came home from work, saw this, laughed, grabbed her ass as she stirred pasta and said to go sit down. We ate, got stoned, made love in the hallway, finishing in the bathroom, and started watching a documentary I still have no idea what it's about. Squids maybe? Something aquatic no doubt.

I sit here contemplating us. Our friends don't know about us yet. Don't know if they'll be okay with it. Maybe but... it's a small town. The gears love to squeak. Especially since I'm a sheriff's deputy, the new guy in town, and she's the local preacher's son, from a long generation of eccentric, rich family. She hates being called a male that but her father's words were very clear.

Lord, help me. Billy... you have a penis and you're a stupid harlot! You're a sinner born for greatness but seeking hellfire! Get your heathen homosexual self out of this house! And put on pants! Satan...

Bailey Q hasn't been back in almost 2 years. She did some traveling. Soul searching for heroes and herself. She returned to Stonehawk Lake a month ago. We met at a small grocery store, Cuppo Mart, near the famous Hodges' Pier. She was sleeping in the campgrounds and... as they say one thing leads to another.

She snores and adjusts her smooth scrotum. Then she scoops her tits and rolls silently towards me. Cheese dust is left behind like tiger stripes over her seductively-tanned skin. I bet she tastes grrreat. I know she does. I turn the channels. Cooking channels make me drool. I watch her toes glitter.

Two nights later, we sit in the bedroom in silence. She's reading a horror novel and I'm playing idle games on my phone. She puts the thin wooden bookmark somewhere near the third act, sets the book down, and starts kneading my inner left thigh. I respond in turn. Our balls and breaths tighten with pleasure. I know what I want. Her. Now. Our kisses sync. Our hearts jounce and hum. The clean laundry on the corner of the bed falls unfolding to the carpet. Bailey Q doesn't know what she wants but she knows how to get it.

Her lips tasting mine. Her moans purring in my ears. Her hard dick pressed against mine. Hers spearing out of the black lace. Mine pitching a tent in my boxers. Our stomachs and hips gyrate to the sound of our lust and the tower fan next to the dresser, it humming along. Our bare feet tickle each other. I smack Bailey's firm ass and give it a firm, loving squeeze.

She smiles and kisses me lower. Down my hairy chest and happy trail. Down over the maroon boxers. Her teeth playfully biting me. Bailey slips my phallus from my garment and into her soaking, wet, warm, beautiful mouth with grace and speed. I run my hand through her purple pixie-cut. She makes happy and eager noises. She strokes herself as I stand up, tossing a pillow for her knees.

That's when our phones rang almost simultaneously. We didn't want to answer them. Damn them and let us cum. But, the air suddenly spiked with urgent stress and ill omens. My boss, the sheriff, called me and said what Bailey's aunt told her.

Evan Q was dead. Bailey dropped the phone and stared at the darkest corner. It took a while to piece it together but as I did, all I heard was screaming. That gutwrench sound of a heart being pulverized. Tonight's entertainment has been postponed. That's okay.

Evan Q was her older brother from a different mother. Bailey admired him. I'm new in this town, but I understand the consequence. A prominent community figure snuffed out. And it got worse from there. Evan wasn't the only victim. A real estate mogul commiting self-delete and his daughter missing. The big guns have been called in. I sit beside Bailey as she melts into a hot slug, crying and aching. I hold her and say nothing.

I kiss her face. She smiles briefly and breaks into sobs again. How did this happen? Small town but with now Big Problems. Come on over... I hear the water is great this time of year. Nearly frozen. I hold my face beside Bailey. She stops crying and we sit in silence for a while. When she finally tries to say something, she doesn't finish it. Instead, she slowly grabs my cock and mindlessly caresses. I respond in kind. We face each other and kiss, hard and passionate. Like the act of carnalities will alleviate the pains.

We finish the night as we started after all, sweaty, satisfied, mollified, but knowing that our release is bittersweet. I smell the nape of her neck as she snores again. I turn away from being the big spoon and drift. Bailey's arm curls around me. I'll deal with the monsters in the morning.

#fiction #mature #mystery #short fiction #sexy content #lgbtq #love #short story

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fleurcareil · 8 months

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West Manitoba: Inglis & Riding Mountain

After driving 370k east from Manitou Beach, I finally crossed into Manitoba, thereby losing an hour to the time difference. Although the prairie provinces look small on the map of Canada, they're really still quite large to cross, especially if you take the backroads that go puzzle-like EW, then NS and back EW around the fields (some roads paved and the less-travelled ones unpaved). A long drive during which I belted along with my oldies playlist such as ABBA, Elvis, Dire Straits, Supertramp & the Beautiful South but also the Weeknd & Venga Boys! 😁

I hadn't planned any touristy things as this day was mostly a bridge towards Riding Mountain, which was too far to drive in one go and also fully booked for the Labour Day long weekend. Sunny & warm, I did have a few spare hours to hopefully spend on a beach...

Lake of the Prairies is another massive hydro reservoir (I'm unsure about the ecological impacts but it's certainly good for climate change), which looked almost threatening from the dam due to the strong wind, but luckily Asessippi provincial park's beach provided some respite as it's on a protected inlet.

I had thought of chilling here for a few hours to soak up the sun, but the water was uninviting and as the wind continued to get stronger, I gave up relatively quickly and made my way to the tiny village of Inglis.

Despite having taken so many already, I couldn't resist one last picture of the fields as these were my favourite colours 🤩; a combo of light-green and brown co-growing crops - no clue what they are but likely that it's to minimize soil erosion (as I was taught in one of my conservation courses).

I had been forewarned by the hotel owner that it was "an old place" which was a gross understatement 🤣.... it's a shame I didn't take a picture, fleeing the flies when I got out of the car, but being above a bar it looked like a western saloon, with less paint remaining on the wooden boards than imaginable! But it was clean and I had the place to myself, and my concerns about late-night bar noise dissipated when I was the only guest for dinner, whilst a few would trickle in for one drink (or to buy smokes), and then disappear again. The owner was a nice chap, who had moved here as a compromise to his wife midway between Saskatoon and Winnipeg... what people do for love! 😜

Besides its bar, Inglis boasts the only remaining row of 1920-40's era "Standard Plan" grain elevators which have been renovated as a national historic site (promise, these will be my last pics of grain elevators 😅). Over 6,000 of these structures used to be across the Prairies, but most have been torn down or fallen apart, and this is the only place where there's still a row of multiple elevators, each owned by a different company competing with each other. For example, the Reliance company (2nd from the left) owned a total of 254 elevators across the country!

The farmer's truck would drive into the building through the large side-doors and after weighing, drop the grain through the grated floor. The grain would be hauled up by buckets into the tower to later fill train wagons through the exterior pipes. The little houses at the front were where payments would be made, and gossip / banter exchanged between the men😆.

The next day, I was excited to make my way over to Mountain Riding national park, of which I had read an article over 10 years ago and I've been looking forward to visiting ever since. So-called "an island of wilderness surrounded by a sea of farmland", it's a bit out of the way but here I was finally, so I had booked 3 nights of camping... a bit risky in September but hoping the cold & rain would stay away just a bit longer 🤞 (it didnt!)

Coming from the west, I dropped by Deep Lake first which has a pair of iconic red chairs that are dotted throughout national parks. The water being so calm tickled my paddling desire 😁 however that turned out quite an ordeal; I first needed to get the SUP inspected for aquatic invasive species and then my pump hose repair broke down leaking air like crazy 😫. 1.5 hours later I did manage to get on the water and although the scenery was nothing special, I was happy to be out! Very subtly, the colours were starting to change from the summer greens to fall orange... 🍁

Towards the end of the afternoon, I arrived at Wasagaming which had a great resort town vibe with lots of people hanging out at the beach and enjoying a pretty sunset 😍.

In Canada, the weather often suddenly flips around Labour Day, and this year was no exception; it started raining overnight and temperatures plummeted so was already regretting my camping choice! Luckily it did dry up mid-day so that I could get out of the tent and visit a Wishing Well surrounded by pretty flowers.

I wished for two things; that my pump hose would hold and that it would no longer rain, and lo behold both came to be!! 🥰 (next time, I'll wish for world peace 😉). Someone had recommended to paddle Katherine Lake, where I was able to get close to a beaver lodge and clearly see its underwater construction.

The lake had been quite small & I was up for some more, so I only partially deflated the board, stacked it in the back of the car and drove to nearby Whirlpool Lake for a second paddle... I had forgotten however to include a time frame for my wish 😛, so inflating the board back up was a huge struggle (with both hands trying to close the leaks 😣), and by the time I was on the water, the wind had picked up & menacing clouds were coming my way... I cut my losses after 45 minutes and just made it in time back to the car before the first rain dropped. The red wine over meatballs & soup made up for the cold weather so that I could dive straight from the restaurant into the warm sleeping bag! 😊

Next morning, I got up early to have another attempt to see bison in their summer pasture grounds where a herd of 40-50 is being maintained - they're in process of converting more forest to grassland so that in the future the herd can be expanded but for now that's the maximum number of animals that the habitat can sustain.

First observation from the viewing tower was that the smoke had returned but then I spotted some black dots on the landscape, in total some 30 animals! Driving a bit further along, there was a separate group of 13 that was close to the road, so I turned off the motor and sat sipping my tea while hearing them munch 😍. To my surprise, they came closer & closer until they walked straight past my car! Perfect way to start the day!

Back at the campsite around 11, I made a hearty breakfast of bacon & cheese to warm me up, while prepping dinner for the campfire that night. With the clouds and cold I was not in a mood to go for a long hike or paddle, so instead I did a smaller one which showcased ancient beach ridges (supposedly where the trees are) and a pretty birch forest. Disturbingly though, I also saw 5 big bear poos (full with berries) on the narrow trail which freaked me out a little, so I ended up almost running back to the parking lot... the night before, my neighbour camper had seen a bear walk by around 3am (chased away later by rangers)😮 so I was getting nervous - too much wildlife for my taste!

In the nearby city of Dauphin, I had hoped to visit its Ukrainian catholic church which is supposed to have beautiful frescoes, however it was closed for tours after the long weekend... the laundromat that morning had also closed for the season, so these were all signs summer was getting to an end... time to go home!

Back at Wasagaming, the sun unexpectedly came out so I went for a small hike on a floating boardwalk through the marsh... you know I like my boardwalks so was happy again, even more so when I saw a green heron (a smaller cousin of the "regular" great blue heron), a muskrat as well as a beaver!! 😍🥰 When I mentioned to a woman that the bison had been so close this morning, she said her car got rammed once by a bull causing $8,000 in damages! 😮

In the evening, the campfire & double set of clothes kept me comfy warm, and so did my mummy sleeping bag, but when it was 2 degrees when I woke up it was clear that this was my last night tenting... Getting dressed, eating breakfast and brushing teeth with ice-cold water was not fun so it was a dash to my heated car! 😄

I hadn't slept much because there was a pack of wolves loudly howling throughout the night... they seemed close but as sound travels far when it's quiet, I'm sure they were far away (or maybe not?!😅). This together with all the other wildlife things of the last few days however did make me think twice about going alone for the park's signature 14k hike up Bald Hill... by now the park was deserted (everyone back to school) and although I contemplated waiting at the trailhead until other people would show up, I realized there was no point in pretending I wasn't scared... the whole idea is that I have fun rather than checking things off a list!

On the way out of the park, there was still a viewpoint over the Manitoba escarpment and the impressive East Gate to admire and then that was goodbye to Riding Mountain!

Wildlife: 2 great grey owls, 11 deer, 2 loons, 1 hawk, 1 falcon, 1 coyote (crossing in front of my car), 47 bison (including 5 calves), 5 bear poos (almost counts as a bear😅), 1 green heron, 1 muskrat, 1 beavers, howling wolves (all at Riding Mountain)

SUPs: three at Riding Mountain

Hikes: two at Riding Mountain

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sukirichi · 3 years

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black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won’t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. “I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

4K notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

the bodyguard

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

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

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

word count: 20,500

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

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“I’ll be okay.”

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

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

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

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

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

05:30.

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

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

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

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

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

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

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

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

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

“Oh, sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

He was relaxed.

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

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

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

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

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

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

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

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does the princess want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

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

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

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

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

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

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

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

It feels like fire.

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

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

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

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

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

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

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

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

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

“Me! Fuck, me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“I think we do.”

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

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Laisse tomber les filles 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Things are starting to pick up but Lee’s still playing low key.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The book club let out on Friday and you quietly packed up your fraying copy of Nabokov, happy you would finally be able to throw it on the shelf and forget about it. As you pulled on your jacket and hooked your bag over your shoulder, Andre, the star of the club, approached you. He wasn’t as curt as Nora but he still made you feel daft.

“Hey, you like the book?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” you answered, “I never really read anything like it before.”

“It’s definitely no Secret Garden,” he quipped.

“Oh, but I read the Bell Jar already, that’s the next book, right?” you countered.

“But did you really read it?” he challenged, “did you soak in the depth of the words?”

“I’m sure my second reading will help with that,” you said plaintively, “I think even, I’ll enjoy it even more.”

“It is more of a woman’s book,” he said tritely, “where are you going now?”

You went to the door and he followed you casually. You walked down the hall and shrugged as your sole tapped on the wooden floorboards.

“Oh…” you stopped yourself from saying no where, “actually, someone’s expecting me.”

“Oh ha, really? I saw those flyers they hand out. That’s one of the tips, say you’re being expected so the creep doesn’t follow you,” he rolled his eyes, “I was just asking, I’m not tryna pick you up or anything.”

You came out in the early spring dusk and stopped at the top of the stone steps. “I know you weren’t, I only… I am supposed to be somewhere.”

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a reading partner--”

A honk came and cut off his invitation. You glanced over at the black and white cruiser then back at Andre. You gave a weak smile.

“Maybe,” you answered, “sorry, that’s my ride.”

“So you’re dad’s a cop?” he wondered.

“My dad?” you shook your head, “he’s… a uh, friend.”

“Friend,” Andre echoed and another honk came, “he’s sure impatient.”

“Sorry, I should go.”

“See ya next week,” he called after you as you stumbled down the stairs.

“Yeah, see ya,” you tossed over your shoulder.

You approached the cruiser and Lee got out to open the door. You got in and waited for him to settle on the other side of the seat. You watched Andre stroll down the pavement and catch up with Van.

“You didn’t have to honk, I saw you,” you said quietly.

“Who was that then?” Lee asked as he steered onto the street.

“Just some guy from the club,” you replied.

“So, shakes?” he asked.

“Can we stop by my dorm first?” you hugged your bag anxiously.

“Why’s that?”

“I want to give you back those clothes, I can’t wear them,” you said.

“What? They’re a gift,” he furrowed his brow but you looked away before he could glance back at you as he stopped at the sign.

“It’s too much and they… they won’t fit me,” you said.

“Well, did you even try them on? You’re young, it’s the new style, I thought--”

“But why would you even think to buy me anything?” you interjected.

He inhaled and said nothing. His breath rose like a growl as he passed the road that led to your dorm. He switched gears and headed for the south exit of the campus.

“Don’t interrupt me. Ever,” he snarled, “and I was being nice, honey. It’s nothin’ bad, just a gift ‘cause I thought it’d look pretty on ya.”

“It’s not that I’m not, er, grateful, I only--”

“No thank you, no nothing,” he moped, “you really hurt me, girl.”

“No, it’s not like that. I just--”

“Just what? I saw you back there, tryna act like you don’t know me in front of that boy,” he grumbled, “‘cause I’m old, right?”

“We were talking, I was just saying goodbye,” you returned, “I don’t know why you’re being like this-- Can you please turn around and just take me home?”

“You promised me a date,” he huffed, “so we’re going… next time you can wear your new clothes.”

“Date?” you sputtered, “Sheriff, please, I want to go home.”

“My name’s Lee, honey,” he purred, “I wanna hear it on your tongue.”

“Wha--” he snaked his arm over and slid his hand onto your leg, just beneath your bag.

“Go on and say it,” he squeezed, “please.”

You swallowed and stiffened as you stared down at your lap.

“Lee,” you eked out.

“Good girl,” he snickered.

“Please, I don’t want a shake, I want to go--”

“I ain’t done nothing, honey, don’t be so dramatic,” he drew his hand away, “have I?”

You were quiet. He hadn’t really done anything more than be a bit grumpy. The touch was nothing, wasn’t it? Just a friendly gesture, trying to calm you down. And he bought you nice things and expected nothing but you to like it. It really seemed like you’d done something wrong the more you thought about it.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Nah, don’t be, I’m happy as long as you’re here,” he turned off of campus and sped up, “I read that book, you know? Lolita. Made patrol a bit easier. I haven’t read a book for years. It was… interesting.”

“You read it?” you flinched.

“Oh, yeah, it was… the man, Humbert, messin’ with a child, that’s some sickness there,” Lee mulled as he kept his eyes on the road, “don’t you think?”

“Um, yeah,” you answered, “I think it was also about, um, you know, an unreliable narrator and how stories unfold differently for people. How we can experience the same thing but not in the same way… I don’t know.”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s probably it,” he said, “but I just thought, that’s awful. You know, we’re adults, you and me. How old are ya, again?”

“I’ll be nineteen this summer, sir,” you replied.

“See, girls here can marry at sixteen,” he said, “but no twelve year old gettin’ hitched.”

“Oh, well,” you murmured, uncomfortable by his rambling, “can I try the vanilla this time?”

“Vanilla? Sure,” he smiled over the wheel, “think I’ll stick to strawberry, I like the sweet stuff.”

📚

The radio show came to an end and you fumbled with your empty cup. The dread still lingered in your chest. You counted the minutes until you could go home. The milkshake settled like a stone and added to your queasiness. Lee put his cup on his other side and yawned.

“Vanilla good?” he asked.

“Not bad,” you answered as he took the cup from you, “it’s late, hm?”

“Not that late,” he slid across the seat as the radio host picked up after the outro, “so you makin’ friends then?”

“Some,” you said, “just talking about schoolwork and, um, books.”

He was close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him. He pushed his arm over your shoulders and let his hand hang down above your chest. You went rigid and tried to sidle away.

“Sheriff?” you croaked.

“Aw, come on, honey, ain’t nothin’ wrong, just getting close, it’s cold, ain’t it?” his other hand came up and caressed your chin, “I like spending time with you… not havin’ to worry about my radio or criminals, just you.”

“I don’t… I think…” you grabbed his wrist, “I thought…”

“I’m just being nice, I’ll admit, I’ve grown a bit sweet on ya. You’re so pretty and that,” he slipped from your grasped and framed your chin and turned your head, “am I hurtin’ ya?”

“N-no, but I…” your lip quivered.

Was this how it happened? Maybe every girl felt like this the first time a man was near. You didn’t know, you couldn’t. You stared at him wide-eyed as he leaned in and his breath grazed your lips. You smelled the sugary strawberry flavour.

“This hurt?” he asked as his lips brushed yours.

“No,” you gulped as he pulled you to him.

“And this?” he didn’t wait for an answered before he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your and sucked on your bottom lip. His teeth nipped lightly and he shoved his tongue against the creased of your mouth until you opened it. You garbled as he filled your mouth and hugged you tighter. You were terrified and confused by the suddenness of it all.

You grunted and pushed on his chest. You turned your head away and gasped as you shoved him harder and he relented. His hand slipped to the bottom of your neck as he looked at you in disappointment.

“What’sa matter?” he asked.

“I… I wanna go home, it’s late,” you whispered.

“Oh honey, don’t be scared, it’s a date, I’m just kissin’ ya good night.”

“I never… said it was a date,” you mumbled.

“And why not?” he pressed, “you’re an adult, I am too.”

“I don’t… know,” you uttered, “I never… never been on a date so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“I didn’t mean to confuse you, I thought you knew,” he said, “a girl like you, I thought you had plenty of dates.”

You shook your head and chewed your lip. You stared at your shoes and wriggled away from him. You ran your fingertips along your jawline as you huddled against the door.

“Please take me home,” you breathed.

“I didn’t mean nothing by it, I just think you’re very sweet and… beautiful,” he reached out and took your hand gently, “I can go slow.”

“I just don’t know,” you didn’t pull your hand away as he held it.

“Ah, I get it, I’m old, I know it, I ain’t stupid,” he sighed.

“I don’t care about that,” you withdrew and wrung your hands in your lap, “I’m… embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” he repeated.

“That I never… That I don’t know about all that,” you confessed, “but I don’t wanna think about that now.”

“Can I see you tomorrow then?” he asked, “I wanna see your new clothes.”

“Sheriff,” you said.

“Lee,” he corrected sharply.

“Lee,” you hissed, “please, can you take me home?”

“Well, you just needa ask nicely is all,” he pushed himself in front of the wheel and jolted the whole car with the movement, “let’s get ya there all safe and sound and you can rest up for tomorrow, huh?”

“I gotta study tomorrow,” you argued.

“You can,” he assured you, “you come study at mine and I’ll make you a nice home cooked dinner, how about that?”

You sniffed and pouted, “sure, if you take me home.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #dark fic #fic #series #laisse tomber les filles #dark!fic #au #college au

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

Text

Baby Eyes | Mafia Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Some non-con, blood, murder, Mafia Bakugo, Fem! Reader, bdsm, sexual intercourse, size kink, degrading, orgasm denial, Stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, etc.

Words: 2,896

A/N: thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate. It is really fun doing this collaboration with you. Daisy’s Event

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof click here to see my other works

Vegas.

Many dream of this city. The gambling, the drinks, the money, the night life. It has it all. Your dreams and worse nightmares can be made here all within a single night. The world may be cruel, but Vegas is even crueler. At least, it is for Y/N.

Your pistol was held tight in your trembling little hand. You have not been properly trained for this moment since in your late teens. The weapon felt foreign to the touch. You are now in your twenties and you are usually not doing this line of work, but since you wanted to disturb your significant other while he was working, he handed you the gun for you to handle.

“Since you want to be such a fucking cry baby, here.” He growled, shoving the pistol into your pounding chest. You gasped.

“S-Sir, I—“ You stammered, using the name he loved to be called by you. You would help it lessen your punishment, but the man did not budge.

“Don’t keep me waiting, brat. Finish this piece of shit off swiftly and quit your damn crying.”

You watched as he left into the city lights of Vegas before turning your attention back to the male before you. The man begged for mercy beneath you and your mouth feels dry.

“P-Please, ma’am. I-I have a w-wife and t-three beautiful c-children. I’ll g-give you your m-money next week. I-I promise.” The fearful man stammered amongst the abandoned dark alleyway. You have heard this speech by many like him when Katsuki brought you on his missions. It should just fall on deaf ears, but tears still brimmed your eyes as memories flooded back to the forefront of your damaged mind.

These memories are the reason you are in this predicament. You begged and squealed, running towards Katsuki and hanging onto his arm when he directed you to stay in the car. You two could have been gone by now, but you decided to intervene. Now you are here, about to commit another murder.

Your father was in this same position a few years ago. Begging for mercy before Katsuki slaughtered him right in front of you. Your cries still echo this alleyway during late, breezy nights. People think you have been disposed of as well. That is what eventually happened to the remainder of your family, but you are just under a new identity.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into the victim’s temple. You attempt to find your strength to pull the trigger. You need to before Katsuki returns. He does not like waiting and you really are pushing what is left of his buttons today.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper out, closing your sorrow filled eyes and pressing down on the trigger. The feeling of blood splattering amongst your cold skin brought back even more unwanted memories. Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically in front of the fallen corpse.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you after a few moments. Katsuki has been watching the whole time and you know it. This is what made the experience even worse. You know his judgment is coming. He gave you a task and although you succeeded, it isn’t good enough. He hates your emotional ways. ‘Baby eyes’ as he would say. Always crying over something or someone.

A big calloused hand entangling into your hair with a deep sigh following. You could not look up at him. You hate him right now. You need to, at least, but the feeling of his large fingers stroking your scalp delivered comfort. A comfort he gives and takes away on a whim.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki grumbled. You gaze up at him with a pitiful look he knows all too well. There was a certain aura to you that changed when your mind drifted to that night. The night he murdered your family right in front of you and all you could do is watch in terror.

“I-I’m sorry.” You muttered out, already accepting that Katsuki is annoyed with you. This is not your first murder and sure will not be your last. He has groomed you long enough for you to know your role.

Katsuki kicked the man’s head with his large foot so he could see the man’s pleading face. Katsuki is cruel in that way. He loved seeing his victim’s expressions in their final moments. Especially when his beautiful woman killed them.

Digging into the man’s pockets, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and black leather wallet to review what was contained inside it. The little cash the man held is now in Katsuki’s possession.

“Marlboro Reds,” Katsuki commented as he slipped the cigarette in between his moist lips and lit it up, “nice.”

Turning around to face you after letting the nicotine enter his system, he looks down at you. Grabbing your chin, you are forced to meet his gaze. You tremble under his touch.

“What did I say about that crying shit?” Katsuki recalls one of your many lectures.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, a little too loud for your own good. Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together, not pleased with your tone. His hand found a way to your neck, giving you a nice squeeze as he guides you up to your feet.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki growls, his red orbs shooting venom into you. Your arm is now tight into his grip as he leads you to the parked all black Lamborghini.

You climb into the passenger seat while Katsuki climbs into the driver’s. You used the napkins in the glove compartment to clean up your soiled face. Katsuki is already on his second cigarette as he drives to the mansion you both share. Considering how fed up he is with you and your antics, you are surprised that half of the box is not gone by now. You know you are in for it once you arrive home.

Katsuki pulled up to the house after some time. Your tears did not pause once the whole way there which only agitated Katsuki even more. He did not say a word as you know to follow the tall man inside. Straight up the spiral marble staircase to the master bedroom, you begin undressing as Katsuki does not appreciate the mess in his living space. Along with the fact you are always to be naked within the bedroom. That rule was set once you turned eighteen years of age.

You sat on the edge of the bed, not enjoying the look in Katsuki’s angry eyes. His muscular arms folded against his chest as he leaned against the wall, glaring into you. You feel small — as usual — within his presence. He is making sure you remember your place.

“What the hell were you thinking out there, Y/N?” Katsuki begins after moments have passed.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs in your bare lap. Your insides are curling with each passing second. You are not sure why you did what you did, honestly. You have seen numerous people plead for forgiveness at Katsuki’s feet, but Katsuki is always going to be a merciless man. Your body acted before your brain could compute. You just wanted to save him. Salvage your loved ones death in some way, shape, or form, but it can never be done.

“You have to give me a better excuse than that. This little rebellion you're on lately isn’t doing nothing but getting you into heaps of trouble.”

“It’s not a rebellion!” You snap back, tears still spilling from your orbs. “You killed my family, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, used to this statement coming from you. “Here we go again.” He scoffs with a tsk following shortly after. “We’ve been over this, Y/N. Your father sold you and your family out for cash. If anything, you should be fucking grateful I even let you live.”

“Grateful?” You repeat in disbelief, a half hearted chuckle escaping your lips. Maybe it was because Katsuki let you take another life, maybe your parents' spirits are coming through, or maybe you’re just so fed up with him, but a sudden burst of confidence runs through you.

You stand up, strolling over to the man before you. His jaw is clenching as he examines each cowardly step you take towards him. You glare up to the man before you, quivering before his mighty presence.

“You killed my family, Katsuki,” you repeat through gritted teeth and clenched fists, “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki challenged, his profound amused smirk appearing. The look in your glossy irises said all the words you didn’t have the courage to speak. “Good thing I really don’t give a fuck about your forgiveness, princess.”

Katsuki’s words soaked into your veins like venom. His smug looks always made you want to beat it off of him. Ever since you have met him. You both know you have no match against him. He will always win. Always.

You have been stuck with him since you were fifteen years old. You two never had any relationship or any sexual conduct until you were the legal age of eighteen. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him over the years. He is all you know and Katsuki grew to like you over the years. Though he trained you to be the woman he wants you to be for him, you do throw a tantrum or two when needed.

“I hate you.” You sniveled.

“Sure you do. Let’s clean up that pretty face of yours so I can stuff it, eh?” Katsuki chuckled, cupping your chin with one hand so he can wipe your nose with a handkerchief with the other. You attempted to break loose of his firm grasp, but the male was not even phased.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.” You admit allowed, still keeping the same angry tone within your words.

Katsuki arched his eyebrow, releasing your face from his grip and discarding the used cloth into the waste bin. “Considering the show you put on out there tonight, you’re lucky I’m not doing worse to you. I can always make that pretty ass of yours bruised too if you’d like?”

You immediately shake your head no. Your bottom is still a bit sore from two weeks ago when Katsuki put you over his knee. You are just now able to sit normal again. You do not need to go back to that.

“No, sir.” You stutter out, backing away from him and putting your hands behind your back. Katsuki is already pouring himself some whiskey into a whiskey glass that you make sure is always waiting on his dresser. He always enjoys a good drink after a long mission.

You take his black suit jacket off of him like expected and lay it on the dirty laundry hamper. Katsuki is already sitting on the bed, sipping on his alcoholic beverage, waiting for you to get to work. Kneeling before him, you begin unzipping his slacks and tugging down his underwear to reveal his erected cock. You take a moment to contemplate your future actions. You really did not want his dick in your mouth, but like Katsuki said before, you do not have a choice in the matter.

Your train of thought is derailed when Katsuki tugs on your hair. “Isn’t going to suck itself, brat. Get to work.”

Mentally groaning, your tongue swipes his length before placing kisses on the tip. Slowly, you begin taking in inch—by—inch. Saliva slid down his cock by the time you had it in your throat. Choking noises fed Katsuki’s already inflated ego.

“Can’t talk much with my cock down your throat, huh?” He teased, taking another sip of his whiskey. “For someone who claimed they didn’t want my cock to begin with, you sure are deep throating it rather quickly.”

You ignored his usual insults as you came up for air. You let out small coughs then go in for more, every vein being pleased with your tongue as you take it all in. Katsuki groans in pleasure as you pick up the speed. His cock is coated in your saliva as you did not slow down once to catch air. It wasn’t worth the ego boost he would feel from knowing he is too big for you.

Katsuki’s whiskey went unfinished as he could not focus on drinking it. Cum soon fills your hollow cheeks and down your throat as he releases into you. Not a drop was missed as you milked his cock. You were rewarded with a head pat.

“On the bed,” Katsuki instructs, “all fours.”

“Do I have to?” You whine. Katsuki vigorously grabs your chin, staring down into you. The room is dark, but his crimson eyes seemed to glow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on this fucking bed and shut your Goddamn mouth.” Katsuki hisses, sending chills down your spine. You do as you are told like he taught you. Arching your back, your ass is now in his perfect viewing. Katsuki’s clothes discarded to the hardwood floor below, his dick already erected at the sight of you.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Katsuki asked, rhetorically. He spreads you open more for his personal view. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, overviewing all of you. One of his hands stroked his cock while the other pressed on your begging clit. You let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear.

Placing his hands on your hips, he drags you closer to him. Leveling you with his cock, the tip slowly slips into your entrance then proceeding to pick up full speed. Your cunt swallows all of him, hugging his cock with each rhythmic thrust. You can feel your tight walls get stretched by his girth with each entry he makes, not even giving you time to get used to his size as he exits to repeat the same process. No matter how many times you two have sex, you will never get used to Katsuki’s length and size.

“Katsuki—“ You sob in pleasure and in pain.

“Shut it, slut. You’re going to take all of my fucking cock and like it. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you tonight.” Katsuki demands, pressing down on your spine so your ass is more perked up for him to smack periodically. Your cries and moans are muffled into the European satin sheets below. You grip onto them for support as Katsuki does not slow down once.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust. It was about to give out on you and cum all over his cock. Though you did not want to give him the satisfaction, your cunt had other plans as it became tighter around Katsuki’s length.

“Aw, is someone going to cum?” Katsuki coo’s condescendingly, beginning to go agonizingly slow.

You lift your head to beg for sweet release. “Please let me cum, sir. Pretty please. I need to oh so badly.” You sobbed. His silence made your insides do flips. His slow strokes did not once stop and his nails dug into your thighs.

“No.” Katsuki finally denies as he knows you cannot take anymore. You gasp, your heart stopping for a split second.

“Katsuki, please.” You hiccuped. “I really need to.”

“Should’ve thought about that before throwing a tantrum today. Good girls get to cum.” Katsuki shrugged, using his long muscular arm to push your head back into the mattress. “Now shut the hell up while I fuck you senseless.”

Just like Katsuki stated, he fucked you until his high was met. Of course, he did not make it easy as he was about to bust, he would go slower to edge himself. He wanted this to be a punishment to remember. The whole time, you behaved and did not cum. No matter how many times Katsuki tried to get you to slip, you refused.

“C’mon and cum, brat. Y’know you wanna.” Katsuki would tease with immaturity. All you could say was incoherent “no thank you’s.” A soft rub on your ass was telling you that you passed his test.

Countless minutes, maybe even hours, have passed until Katsuki decided he was ready to release himself. “You can cum now.” He finally grants. You did not get to even process his words as your pussy released onto his cock. Babbles of pleasure and gratitude escaped from your lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Katsuki praises, his cock now removed from you. You whine at the hollowness you felt.

“Lay on your back.” He instructs, doing his best to keep it together. You follow his request and switch over to your back. “Play with your tits.”

Your fingers grab onto your sensitive nipples, swirling on them before giving them a nice little pinch. Katsuki stood over you, stroking his cock that is covered in his pre-cum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” Katsuki praised once more, analyzing your lewd faces as your fingers played with your breast.

“Mm, cover me with your cum.” You encouraged, rubbing your thighs together and pushing your breast closer to one another. Katsuki became feral as cum squirted onto your chest and stomach. Just the sight of you is making Katsuki forget today ever happened.

Just like always, baby eyes.

©bakugosbratx

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mythicalgemwrites · 3 years

Text

Selkie x F! Reader (Linn) Part 1

Sorry for not posting earlier guys! I've been very busy with online classes.

Warnings: mentions of drowning. Pics are not mine, all credits go to the owner!

M! Selkie X F! Reader

Living on an island your whole life has its perks. From the fresh scent of the salty ocean air to the calming sounds of the waves crashing lazily, it never failed to wake you up with a serenity that could be found nowhere else. You had lived alone with your Toller pup for the past couple years, in the house that your grandparents had left for you. You grew up with them, as your parents always had to move from town to town due to their profession. They were both marine biologists and had taken up a job at a top secret research facility when you were 12, so they decided to let you stay with your beloved grandparents. However, on a stormy day a couple years ago, when you were 19, both your grandparents got caught in a storm while they were out fishing, and they never came back. During the funeral, you had found out that in their will, they had stated that you should get the house, in the event of something tragically happening to them.

And that’s how you got the house three years ago. When it became too lonely, you decided to adopt a Toller puppy for company, and you had named him Sam, which was your grandpa’s nickname. He provided good company and unconditional love, which is important in every home. The house had its own dock leading to the beach, so every morning, after your walk, you’d put Sam’s retriever genes to good use and play fetch with him, fetching the ball from the ocean was one of his favorite past times. Whenever you brought him to the beach, you sometimes feared he was going to be the reason why someone almost drowned. To date, you were grateful nothing like that had ever happened, but you sometimes couldn’t brush off that fear. You were a writer, and sometimes, you couldn’t control how far your imagination went, and sometimes, the words you put on paper would be some of your worst fears, if they were to come alive.

As the days go by, and the weather gets chilly, you would often take Sam on a walk to the nearby cove, usually in the warmer months it would be filled with children playing by the beach and in the waters, but as the weather got cooler, it was mostly couples going on romantic walks, or some who preferred the solitude, just came to enjoy the sunset. On this particular day, there weren’t many people by the cove, just a couple strangers. It was around 6:15 when you threw the ball the last time, and waited for Sam to retrieve it. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, fully inhaling the chill autumn air, when you heard a whelp coming from the water. Opening your eyes, you saw Sam caught on a wave, and struggling to get back to you. In a panicked state, you took off into the water, not worrying about the growing current, but more worried about your faithful companion, struggling in grasps of strong waves, at least for a dog his size. As you grab him by his collar, attempting to pull him out, another wave comes crashing into the two of you, causing you to go under. Trying to call for help, and failing, as the water fills your lungs, you stop struggling, knowing it might make your situation worse, however, Sam starts barking, with his head barely above the water.

Suddenly, you could feel yourself being pulled out of the water, and being held against a broad chest by strong arms. Once you reached the water, you looked at your savior, beautiful greenish-blue grey eyes met yours, and you saw a cute familiar face looking back at you. It was Linn, the barista in the cute local café. You had to admit, you’ve always had a crush on him, but from afar. You didn’t know anything about him, except that people claimed that his family had lived on the island for years, centuries even.

He had shaggy brown hair, and small freckles were scattered along his face. With his help, you got up from the ground and called out to Sam. “Are you alright? I saw you getting pulled under and saw your dog barking. Do you want me to call someone?” he asked , in a boyishly deep smooth voice. Gaping like a goldfish out of the water, it took you a few seconds to process what was said. Coughing, you rasped out “ Yes… I’m fine, thank you! My dog , Sam, got caught in the waves, and I tried to get him out.” you started babbling like a lost child. “ Can I call someone to come get you?” He asked again, a hint of concern in his eyes. “ oh, no… no it’s okay, I live alone, well with Sam. There’s no one to call.” you said, trying not to act like a 15 year old who just couldn't help but be nervous around her crush. “I’ll be fine, really, I just need to walk home and dry out. Thanks again for helping!” you exclaimed. Calling Sam to you, the both of you started to walk home. “ Hey! Wait!” you heard Linn calling from behind, “ I’ll walk you home, if that’s okay. It’s getting dark anyway. I’ll see to it that you both get home safe,”. Before you could say anything, you felt him putting his jacket over you, helping with the chill. You didn’t realize you were freezing until he wrapped his jacket around you.

When the three of you reached your home, Sam was happy to be back in the warm embrace of his bed. Standing by the door “ Would you like to come in? Maybe a cup of coffee… or tea or anything else, if you prefer?” quickly giving him the option of whatever he preferred, to make sure you didn't seem ignorant. Sure, he worked as a barista in the local café, but that doesn't mean he loved coffee, right? “ Um, sure! Anything will do,” he said, as he followed you in. Looking around, you kicked yourself in your head, not keeping up to the schedule you set yourself for cleaning up around the cottage. Sure, it was decent, but paper everywhere? A heaping amount of mugs were strewn around your coffee table, as you sat there working on your next work.

Quickly picking them up and moving them to the sink, you filled up the kettle and turned it on to boil. “ There’s tea and coffee in the cabinet above the kettle, feel free to help yourself. I’ll go get dried up,” the words left you, as if you were telling them to an old friend, hoping to not make a fool of yourself anymore, you gave him a sheepish smile and made your way upstairs to your bedroom.

(Linn pov)

I made my way to the cabinet, looking through the various tea blends. Something which would help with the cold temperature would be nice. There in the right corner of the cabinet, was a box of peppermint tea. It would definitely help make her feel better, since she was soaked to the bone. I can’t help but feel a sense of concern for her. This beautiful strong woman that I always encounter in the café I worked in, and possibly have a crush on, I can’t believe I never spoke to her. I’ve always seen her writing in the corner of the café, in her spot, as my coworkers and I have labeled it. She always seems so sure of herself, and always seems ready for anything, but today, out in the water when I saw her struggling, something came over me. I had to save her, felt a sense of protectiveness for her, hence why I offered to walk her home. Taking two bigger than average mugs from the cabinet, I filled them up with the boiling water, after placing a tea bag in each and placing them on the coffee table before the couch. Her dog was in front of the heater, longing for some warmth and hoping to dry off. I heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw Sam laying before the heater, trying to get warm. Making my way to the tiny laundry room, I picked up Sam’s towel. Making my way to him, from the corner of my eye I saw Linn, sitting on the couch, two steaming mugs of what seemed to be one of my teas in front of him.

“ I made some peppermint tea, it helps with colds, we don’t want you to catch one now do we?” grinned Linn.

Thanking him, and taking the mug he held one, I sat next to him on the couch. Keeping some distance between us, I asked him if he wanted to use the bathroom to clean up.

“ If you have any spare clothing that might fit, I’d like that! It’s okay if you don’t though!” he nervously exclaimed. “ I do have some spare clothing that belonged to my grandpa, they should fit. Gimme a sec! I’ll go grab ‘em, and a towel too!” I exclaimed, leaving the cozy embrace of the couch.

Making my way to my room, where I kept a spare drawer full of my grandparent’s clothes, I dug out a jumper and a pair of pajama pants which belonged to my grandpa.

When I went down, I saw Linn drying Sam with the towel that I had left by his dog bed, and Sam being the belly rub loving dog he is, happily accepted Linn drying him with the towel, belly rubs being a necessity. Letting out a chuckle at the scene before my eyes, I held out the spare clothes and a fresh towel to Linn.

“ There’s a bathroom two doors left from the stairs upstairs,” I exclaimed, reaching for the doggy towel he left by the couch and chucking it in the laundry room. “Thank you,” he exclaimed, leaving to go to the bathroom.

Once Sam was dry enough, I picked up my mug of tea, making myself comfortable on the couch. Looking out the living room window, rain droplets trickling down the class, I sip on my tea, waiting for my guest to arrive from the bathroom. A couple minutes passed, looking up when I heard soft footsteps heading towards me, I offered Linn a smile and patted down the space next to me on the couch. “ Here, you can leave once the storm stops,” I handed him the mug.

We both sat beside each other, talking about what we remember about my grandparents and how we never spoke to each other when we were younger. Sam sitting at our feet. The dying fire casted a warm allure on his face, illuminating the soft scattered freckles. Hours passed as we enjoyed each other's company over another mug of tea, laughing at all the brief mutual moments that were shared between us. He mentioned that he would always get excited to see me whenever I visited my grandparents by the docks. I didn’t want to admit it, but I always loved to catch a few glimpses of him, whenever he wasn't looking as well.

I laughed at his words, tired but somehow feeling rejuvenated. It had been a long time since I last laughed with someone. It felt good to let go.

His expression of awe paused me mid laughter. He was gazing into my eyes, as I his. For a brief moment, his gaze averted to my lips. Moving his gaze up to my eyes, as soft as a whisper “ May I kiss you?” he asked, a foreign emotion lingered behind his now soft eyes.

Giving him a gentle nod, I felt him place his hand at the nape of my neck. Inhaling a deep breath, his scent which reminded me of the sea with a hint of musky peppermint enveloped my senses.

Linn leaned in, gently bringing my face towards his. He closed his eyes, and for a brief few seconds I admired him until mine shut involuntarily as I felt his lips on mine. After a few seconds, he pulled away, still gazing into my eyes, “ I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now,” he said, with a sheepish grin, before kissing me again.

He deepened the kiss a little, giving my bottom lip a light lick before pulling away. “ I regretted not telling you how I felt about you earlier… I did ask permission from your grandpa before he passed. The last thing he said to me was, he’d be happy if you chose me,” he paused for a second, a hint of sadness and regret casting a shadow on his blue eyes. “ I… I need to tell you something. I might … might not be who you expect. And I understand if I’m not who you want,” he stammered. Grunting, “ The rain’s about to stop. I should probably get going,” he said as he started to get up.

Grabbing onto his hand, “ No...don’t! Please… It’s late, you should stay!” I stopped him. “And I’ve had a silly little crush on you too… I just never knew how to tell you” I whispered. He sat next to me, slowly, as if I were made of fine china. That, at any moment, I might crumble. “ You did?” he breathed, his breath close enough that I could feel it on my face.

“ I also know what you are. Grandpa made sure to educate me on myths, and he said some were not myths. I’ve seen you carry your pelt around sometimes,” I closed his hand between mine. “I know you’re a selkie, Linn. I don’t want you to hide that from me.” I breathed, gazing into his eyes. I could catch a glimpse of adoration in them. “Thank you… for not running away, even when you knew what I was,” he sighed. I gazed at his lips, before catching them with mine, a soft peck, to let him know I accepted him for who he is.

#selkie #selkie x reader #merfolk #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #sea creatures #scottish mythology #scottish folklore

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houndsofcerberus · 3 years

Text

Lament of a Father

Technoblade was a lot of things. In whispers passed along as he walked through the market he was a monster. In quiet reverence after turning the tides of a war he was a hero. In loud jeering after the tides of war had been changed he was a villain. In stories passed between families of a man on trade routes at midnight he was a benevolent spirit, a god even. He held many titles but the one he cherished, the one he would wear like a badge of honour until the day he died? Well he had only worn that one for a year, maybe less. He would never speak of it to anyone, never share that vulnerability to anyone. Except of course for the one who had tenderly taken the title from him. He was eternally grateful and indebted to Philza for what he had done, but chat occasionally disdained him for stopping them.

Tommy, despite looking so much like his dad, despite sharing his blond hair, his sapphire blue eyes full of life and curiosity, was well aware of the fact he was not his biological child. The only biological child his dad had ever had was his older brother Wilbur. Though it was easy to assume the opposite. Wilbur had taken after his mother, who had long since passed, her presence only existing by the picture pinned up on the fridge. She had been gone long before Tommy’s arrival, though his dad often spoke of how it was because of her invisible influence on him that made him take Tommy in. The story Tommy had only ever known was that his parents had left him behind. His brother, jealous of the time and the care his dad seemed to pour into Tommy but give him sparingly, had once told Tommy his parents didn’t want him. Had left him to die in the woods. He had never asked his dad because as far as Tommy was concerned they had. It didn’t matter to him how they had left him, it mattered that they left him at all. It mattered every time he heard the other kids whisper about how Tommy was a bastard child. Unloved. Unwanted. Out of place.

Tommy had been content never meeting his biological parents. That would be fine by him. Philza had been adequate. He had a roof, a home, a bed, food. Despite his brother’s occasional jealousy or the common squabbles between the two he was happy to have his brother. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, his parents must have been terrible people to leave him behind like they did.

Tommy stared from behind Wilbur at the stranger in their door whom their dad had been welcoming warmly. Tommy frowned, trying to look past the improvised mask made out of a hoglin skull, wondering if the slight tusks coming from the mans mouth were also not his own. He noted the long pink hair, the way he smelled strongly of blood despite the fact that there was none to be seen on this stranger. Tommy could see a crossbow on his back, a weapon his own dad didn’t wield but he’d seen occasionally used, shown off in weapon shows in town. People around here didn’t use crossbows. He also took note of both the axe and the sword on the man as well. The axe was not the woodcutter’s axe outside, but a battle axe. A mean looking thing, but the soft glow of it was mesmerizing and what little of the blade he could see was sharp, definitely for fighting. The sword was sheathed at the man’s hip, but the hilt he could see under the man’s red cape was ornate, a beautiful gold glinting in the light along with the rest of the man’s jewelry. There was a ruby at the bottom, looking like fire in the candlelight. Tommy froze as he looked back up at the man’s face, making eye contact. He frowned and stuck his tongue out indignantly.

“What’re you lookin at?” He snapped.

Technoblade had to suppress a soft chuckle at that. He was so small, hidden behind his brother, but he said it with such fire in his belly that Techno was half convinced that had he heard it on the battlefield he might have looked away. He looked back at Phil, who smiled fondly.

“Long time no see mate, we should talk,” he said softly.

“We should,” Techno replied, eyes flicking back to Tommy. In that moment though he wasn’t a young man, nor a child. He was an infant, held so tenderly in Techno’s arms.

He remembered the day as if it were yesterday. He had remembered it since it happened, he relived it over and over. Tommy’s mother had died. He wished he had known her longer. They hadn’t been married when Tommy came along, and she had been the opposite of Techno. She hadn’t lived long after Tommy was born. As was Techno’s luck seemed to be. She had known it and she had held the tiny golden haired baby who had her eyes and his father’s smile. So rarely given but a treat to be savoured. The tiny child had squealed and grinned at her once his crying had stopped, his eyes fixed on her until his father gently lifted him from her arms after they had gone limp. Techno had promised many things. But above all he promised that no matter the price their child would live the best life he could live.

Technoblade had spent a little under a year with the title of father. He had cherished every second. He hadn’t believed he wanted to be a father, not until he was. He didn’t believe attachments were a good idea, but he would never regret this. Never. He had named the small child Theseus, he wanted his child bearing the name of a warrior. Of a man who had carried hardship and walked tall yet still. He wanted Theseus to be strong, he wanted the name to fit the man he knew his son would one day be.

He had spent the entire year carefully taking care of the child, despite the voices in his head screaming to rid himself of the danger. The danger someone would use this tiny bundle of giggles and straw blond hair and watery blue eyes against him. They insisted this helpless baby would be his demise. They chanted for blood but Technoblade would not concede. At least for that year. He would hold the child, speak softly of great heroes, of gods and of monsters. He would fall asleep, arms around this tiny life that had been left for him to care for, protecting him. He still believed wholeheartedly it was the best year of his life. The year he had replaced his old titles, the title of monster, of god, of hero, of villain. He would maintain for the rest of his life that father was the only title he would ever want.

“Please Philza,” came the strangled sob as Techno held out the bundled up child. “Please.”The rain had soaked through Techno’s clothing long ago, his hair soaking, though when Philza took the child into his arms he noted that there wasn’t a drop on the sleeping baby.

“Techno, are you sure? This is the greatest gift you could receive, are you positive you want to give it up?” Phil said sadly, looking up at Technoblade, soaked in rain. His crimson eyes were bloodshot and Phil knew his old companion well enough to know he had grown fond of the child he held. Fond enough to weather the storm.

“No. I’m not sure. I don’t want to give him up, if we lived in a perfect world I would never. I would hold him until the world burned around us. But you know damn well why I can’t.” Techno said, looking away, eyes landing on a framed image of Philza, his long gone wife, and his child. Theseus would be safe here. Theseus would be loved. It didn’t matter that Technoblade felt his heart was being ripped from his chest. He had come so close. He wouldn’t risk it again.

“Mate...” Philza said, face falling. “You can’t help it, you know you wouldn’t dare,” he said softly.

“I wouldn’t. They would. They tried. I am not putting him in danger by simply being alive in my presence. Please, please I am begging you. Take him. Take care of him like I can’t. He deserves better than to grow up to fear his own father.” Techno begged, holding back the tears that were stinging his eyes.

“...okay...” Phil agreed, relenting. He offered the bundle back to Techno, offering a moment to say goodbye. Techno took the chance eagerly, holding the child close.

“I love you, more than you could ever understand. You are my heart and soul Theseus. Be a good man,” Techno whispered, the tears he’d been choking back betraying him and falling down his face. “I will always love you.” He added solemnly, taking another look at his sleeping son. So peaceful, so blissfully unaware. He handed Theseus back to Phil. “He gets nightmares, often. He doesn’t sleep well still, but this-“ Techno pulled out a stuffed animal, a simple plush toy his son adored, a stuffed cow, floppy and well loved, handing it to the other. “Warm milk and Henry help him sleep, he prefers to be held though, it makes him feel safe. He doesn’t like to be alone,” Techno rambled. Phil nodded, taking note of everything said until Techno reluctantly took his departure.

Tommy and Wilbur sat outside, pretending to play as they kept an eye on the window, watching the strange man inside talk to their dad. They were sat at the table, their expressions confusing for Tommy. Smiling but...not happy. Their dad had made the two of them tea after shooing the kids outside to play. The grass rippled around Tommy in the breeze as he ripped some of it up and let it fly away in the wind.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Tommy asked, staring at the back of the stranger’s head.

“Dunno. Maybe they’re finally taking you somewhere they’ll teach you to have manners,” Wilbur joked, tossing a dandelion he’d picked at Tommy.

“Shut up, if anything you’re the one who doesn’t behave,” Tommy replied easily, rolling his eyes and tossing the flower right back at Wilbur. Things hadn’t always been so easy between them. Tommy had been treated like he was precious cargo by their dad. Neither knew why, Wilbur didn’t care why. His dad was paying attention to Tommy not him. He didn’t like it. As they got older it got easier but there had once been a time where their ‘fights’ hadn’t been in jest. Where they actually meant it when they said they hated one another. Tommy could still tell Wilbur didn’t like that their dad clearly had a favourite but he no longer blamed Tommy. His relationship with his dad had soured mildly though their dad hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Phil I can’t tell him.”

“He deserves to know. I never told him anything, he’ll start looking one day and if he finds out that I never told him who you were when you were right here? When he could’ve asked questions? He’ll not only never forgive me, he’ll never forgive you.” Phil said. “He’s a stubborn little shit, he got that from you.”

“Phil he’s better off with whatever story he’s come up with in his head. He may not want the answers to the questions he has.” Techno said softly. “No child deserves to know their own father tried to kill them.”

“Techno that wasn’t you and you know it. You’ve gotten a handle on chat now, you’re not the stupid kid who runs headfirst into battle without thought anymore. If what I’ve heard is right he’d be proud. You’ve won multiple tournaments, that’s something he’d find interesting.” Phil said.

“Phil please. You and I both know this won’t last. I’m not a person who stays out of trouble for long.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Don’t I always?”

Technoblade’s name had become well known by the siblings after that conversation. Phil hadn’t yet introduced them until years later when Techno showed up for one of Tommy’s birthdays, giving Phil a book and telling him to wait to give it to Tommy. Then came the Pogtopia vs Manberg war. Techno had played a major part in the war though his efforts were wasted once the president of Manberg dropped dead in front of them. Since that day Lmanberg had rebuilt the damage caused by both Wilbur and Techno. Phil had come back. But Techno’s reputation for being ruthless and dangerous hadnt faded. Nor had the knowledge he was a private person. Which is why when he found a certain young man in his house he had been shocked.

“What are you doing in my house?”

Tommy froze, looking up at Techno from where he was still climbing the ladder, head poking out from the hole he thought he’d hidden decently. Tommy tried to scurry back down but Techno caught him by the back of his shirt and easily lifted him off the ladder and set him on the ground.

“Why are you in my house?” He asked again.

“Well...someones clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed!” Tommy said. “You’ve got to fix that temper big man, or else nobody will want to hang out with you,”

“I don’t want anyone to hang out with me. That’s the entire point. Get out.”

“God this place is ugly. You really should hire a decorator. I know someone who could help y’know, I could call them. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you out. A charity case if you would. She’s great really.” Tommy rambled.

“Theseus.” Techno said firmly. For some reason this was what made Tommy shut up. It sent a chill down his spine and he felt like someone had poured ice water down his back. “Why are you living under my house?” Tommy couldn’t respond. He didn’t know why but the nickname Theseus that Technoblade had given Tommy made him falter every time without fail. Tommy attributed it to the speech Techno had made all that time ago, yelling for him to die like the hero he wished to be. Since then Techno had almost exclusively used that name in their few interactions. Sometimes it would be sternly, fewer times it was affectionate, though the name gained positive meaning the longer Tommy stayed with Technoblade. Techno spent time training Tommy, and soon even just spending time with him. Technoblade taught Tommy how to make his own weapons and how to make them near perfect after realizing how woefully terrible Tommy’s current weapon was, especially for his fighting style.

Tommy had always been mesmerized by the way Techno fought. It was like he was dancing, every movement was muscle memory, every step rehearsed, measured. The way he locked his eyes onto his target but seemed to be oh so aware when eyes were on him. Watching Techno and Philza fight was a real treat. It was like watching a performance. Technoblade had clearly learned from Tommy’s dad, and Tommy wanted to hear the stories of their old adventures, though neither would give up the goods. Phil’s movements were airy, near effortless. Though he lacked the power Techno threw into every swing, and Techno lacked a lot of the effortless grace that Phil seemed to have a birthright to.

Tommy sat, transfixed as he watched his dad’s wings flare out, though unable to carry him now due to the large chunks burned away he still used them, catching himself as Techno shoved him back. Phil had a grin on his face as they sparred, though Techno’s face was as it always seemed to be, stony and unchanging. Tommy could’ve sworn that he saw the smallest glint of excitement in those wine red eyes. Techno had a tendency for nonstop movement, and redirecting his momentum. Techno had said, quite hypocritically, that it was a stupid move however. It took a lot more energy to redirect and change momentum and still have enough power for your hit. Though it seemed that Techno wasn’t lacking in power as the sparks flew between Phil and Techno’s swords, illuminating their faces briefly before being extinguished in the snow. Phil was considered better by many, but for whatever reason Tommy found Phil all too predictable. He liked the unbridled power and erratic movements that Techno made, the way he seemed to keep his eyes fixed on you as you sparred, attention unwavering and unyielding. It was intimidating and Tommy had never wanted to be on the other side of the sword when Techno really meant it.

He had never wanted it. Never wanted this. Lmanberg was crashing around him, exploding constantly, the crater going deeper as the noise of the explosions mixed in with the screaming of the withers. Tommy couldn’t take a breath without the acrid smoke stinging his lungs, couldn’t move without the raging fire below the platform he stood on warming his skin to a near unbearable extent. But somehow nothing hurt him more than the look of pure sorrow and rage in Techno’s eyes as he stood behind the crossbow, firework loaded, ready to kill Tommy. Ready to end him where he stood. Tommy cowered behind it, his voice ever steady despite the tears cleaning trails of soot off his face betraying him.

“Do it.” He said. “Prove me right.”

Techno took a breath and for a moment Tommy thought he was going to actually pull the trigger. He flinched as he heard the click of the trigger, and then the explosion of the firework. But he was fine. He opened his eyes and saw Technoblade reload his crossbow before putting it away. He pulled out his trident and looked up, holding his free hand out as the first raindrops fell.

“We part as we did the first time. I’ll miss you Theseus.” Techno said softly, pulling his arm back before launching into the air with his trident. Though Tommy swore he heard something he couldn’t decipher it over the loud roar of the withers, the pattering of rain, and the ever insistent booming of the explosives digging ever deeper. Tommy stood, rain soaking his hair and washing his face of the soot and ash of the country he once built with his brother. He once took back with his uncle. The country he had staked everything on from the beginning. It was gone. For good now. There was no rebuilding. Tommy exchanged a look with Tubbo, the two of them locking eyes. Neither said a word but they both knew, they both understood that it was over. Dream had won, and Technoblade and Phil had helped. Tommy was surrounded by people but he had never felt more alone in that moment. Not even in exile. And he couldn’t tell you why. Though maybe it had something to do with the red fur trimmed cape he still had hanging up at home and the axe that had once been a gift and was now stolen property in his enderchest.

Techno had stopped paying attention to any and all news regarding Tommy. He told Phil it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to know. But they both knew he was lying through his teeth. He cared. A great deal. But that was the problem now wasn’t it? He had his son. He had an optimal time to tell him. And he was going to. Until Tommy charged into the community house. And Techno had watched in that moment as Tommy chose the corrupt government that had just prior ordered his execution and had imprisoned Phil. Tommy chose them over Techno, who had once more thought about retrieving the title of father. The title he missed every day of his life since he handed it to Phil.

“Tommy is dead.”

Techno’s blood ran cold. There was no way. No way. Phil turned and stared at Techno. Phil loved Tommy, he had. But they had grown estranged. Techno however? He had been attached to Tommy since the day he showed up under his house. Techno had grown close and lost Tommy but he still cared. He still loved his son. Techno didn’t love many things or people, but his son was one of those things.

Phil relaxed slightly as Techno joked, but he didn’t miss the way Techno rushed through the meeting, the way he bolted out of the room into the ever winding maze outside. Phil said his goodbyes before darting after Techno, going through the halls. He found him leaning against a wall, looking queasy. Phil didn’t even get to Techno before he heard him retch and a splatter. Phil saw him turn and wipe his mouth, face ashen and colourless, he was shaking violently and Phil could see how distant he was. Chat. Again.

“You good mate? Come back to me Techno. We can figure this out. Just breathe,” Phil said. “You’ll be o-“

“Do not finish that sentence.” Techno snapped, glaring at Phil. “He’s dead. I am not going to be okay.” Phil had seen Techno angry many times. But he’d never seen this look. The look of a man with nothing left to lose. It wasn’t even like he was looking at Technoblade anymore, not in the way he knew his beloved friend. It was more like staring a wild boar in the face. A very angry, very hungry wild boar. Phil stepped back, knowing very well he could find his throat ripped from his neck if he chose to move forward.

Techno took many long hours to calm, and by the time he had he was empty. It was like everything had been drained from him. Every ounce of Techno had been ripped out and all that Phil had left was the shell. His heart broke because he knew exactly how it had felt. He knew what it was like. After he lost Wilbur Phil had disappeared into the woods for days, he remembered killing anything that moved, hitting the trees until his knuckles bruised and bled just to feel something other than the all consuming sorrow and despair. Anything to stave off the feeling of emptiness. And it was like that until Techno set off. He said he was going to go train. Except he didn’t come back for what felt like years. Tommy had come to visit. As had Wilbur, newly revived from the dead. And Phil had nearly lost it, so relieved to see his son even if his son wasn’t thrilled to see him. It didn’t matter. Wilbur could tell him a million times that Phil no longer mattered, that he wasn’t family, and Phil would still just be relieved that he was okay. That he was alive.

He saw the way Tommy looked at them. Saw the jealousy in his eyes. He had tried so hard to stop him from feeling that when he was a kid but things were different. Things had changed. They didn’t talk much, they weren’t family like they had been. And Phil wanted Tommy to know he had family. But it wasn’t his story to tell. Not yet.

Techno had come back oh so very briefly, a week maximum. They celebrated his birthday, and Techno received a letter summoning him to the prison. Phil was apprehensive and when Techno didn’t come home that night, or the next day, or the day after that Phil started to worry. He had read the will. He knew the plan. But he didn’t like it. Too many things could go wrong. The next time Tommy visited Phil was a wreck. Tommy did his best to comfort Phil but honestly Tommy was worried too. He knew Techno could handle himself. He knew what Techno was capable of but he also knew what Dream and Sam were capable of.

Phil however was worried about several things. He had faith Techno would be fine, he always was, but… there was a nagging in the back of his brain. He needed to tell Tommy. No matter what he needed to tell him. If Techno died in the prison Tommy should know, and if he got out as planned then Tommy should get to be allowed to know his father. He shouldn’t know before it’s too late, especially when it might already be too late.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah Phil?” Tommy replied, picking up the two mugs he had, each with tea in them. He set one down in front of Phil at the table and sat nearby, looking at him. Phil looked like a fucking wreck. There were deep circles under his eyes, he looked exhausted and he seemed older in that moment than Tommy could ever remember him looking before.

“I need to tell you something. The truth.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it right now, you can tell me later,”

“No. I have to tell you.” Phil said adamantly. He knew if he didn’t say it now he never would. And Tommy might never get to know Techno as his dad instead of a friend or mentor. He wanted Tommy to have a dad. He owed it to him after he had suddenly stopped being one. “I knew your parents. Your mother and father, they were friends of mine. Your mom is… she’s not around…” Phil said quickly. He kept going before Tommy could react. “Your father. He’s a friend. He’s still alive.”

“…what?” Tommy asked, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you? I spent years wondering what the fuck was wrong with me or my parents that they dropped me in the middle of nowhere, why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” Tommy asked, rage and pain clear in his voice. Years of self loathing, of wondering why he wasn’t good enough, why he was abandoned. Why he didn’t get to have a family. Why he didn’t get to know his father at the very least.

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, I wish I could’ve told you but I couldn’t Tommy,” Phil answered.

“There’s a lot that you don’t understand! I’ve been wondering every day of my life why I wasn’t good enough! Why I couldn’t be happy, why I didn’t deserve to have my own family! You had the answers and you just didn’t give them to me!” Tommy yelled, standing up and banging his fist on the table. “Who? How many times have I met my father and you didn’t say a word? How many interactions did I have where you didn’t tell me I could’ve asked him questions? How many times was he right there?” Phil looked down and sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t wanna say it.

“Tommy….” Phil sighed softly, looking at Tommy. He was right to be pissed. Phil knew that. But he wished he wasn’t.

“Tell me! For once in your fucking life be honest Phil! You’ve been lying to me for years, you owe me this! You owe me this cause I died and you didn’t bother to care!” Tommy screamed, tears running down his face. “Owe up to it for once in your life.”

“It’s Technoblade.” Phil choked out. He swore, Tommy almost lunged for his neck to choke him. In that moment he looked so much like his dad. He was so angry. He’d never seen Tommy this angry before, not even on doomsday. Phil would’ve let him strangle him, he’d deserve it. But Tommy didn’t. He slammed his fist into the wall.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled. It was so loud and Phil could hear his voice almost giving out. “He was right here! This whole fucking time! What the fuck is wrong with both of you? You had months, months to tell me!” He screamed, his voice quavering. “You’re both full of shit!” He screamed, turning around and storming out. The door slammed and Phil flinched, hearing the pictures on the wall rattle. He didn’t think it would go this badly. Granted he didn’t know how it would go when he said it. Phil sighed and put his head in his hands. He fucked up. He was gonna regret this.

Techno regretted going into that prison. By the time he got out thanks to the stasis chamber and an ender pearl. He felt himself teleport and stumbled as he found himself in the syndicate’s meeting room. He felt someone grab him and he flinched away.

“Calm down mate, it’s alright, it’s me,” Phil’s voice said softly. Techno looked around confusedly, breathing quickly and seeing it was in fact the syndicate room, not Pandora’s Vault. Phil pulled him along and had him sit down at one of the chairs. “You alright?” Phil asked, stepping back and looking at Techno. He looked like shit. He was thinner, he was pale and shaky. He looked like he didn’t know which way was up. “What the fuck happened in there mate?”

“It sucked. The syndicate has a responsibility to take it down, it’s as corrupt as anything could be.” Techno sighed.

“I can see that mate.”

“They don’t really feed you in there… Tommy was in there wasn’t he?” Techno asked. Phil paled.

“Yeah… he was.” Phil said, sighing. “Listen I…I have to tell you something Techno. It’s about Tommy.”

“Is he okay? Did something happen to him?” Technoblade asked immediately, looking terrified.

“No, no he’s fine. I fucked up though mate. I’m sorry, I told him. I didn’t know whether things would go as planned or not, he deserved to know while you were still alive.” Phil said quickly, not looking at Techno. He heard the other sigh.

“….I suppose we owed it to him. Better sooner than later.�� Techno sighed, shaking his head. “How’d he take it?” He asked, looking at Phil and leaning back in the chair with a groan.

“Bad. He was….angry. Angry we didn’t say anything earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so pissed.” Phil replied, sitting on the table. He left out just how much like his father he had looked for that moment. Tommy looked like his mother but he certainly had some of his father in him. Techno’s face had fallen more. Phil hadn’t seen Techno cry in ages, but he looked close. Tears in his eyes that he was too proud to let fall. Techno shook his head as if it would shoo them away and stood.

“He’s not wrong to be angry.” Techno said softly. Phil nodded and walked with him up the staircase to the igloo concealing the entrance. “I was going to tell him. Why didn’t I? I should’ve told him. Things were good. He deserved to have my honesty,” Techno muttered under his breath. Phil opened his mouth to respond before closing it. He had a feeling Techno’s words weren’t for him.

They arrived to their conjoined cabins in silence, and Techno told Phil that they would convene the syndicate later on, and that he was tired. Phil knew it was a lie but he didn’t push, he knew Techno would appreciate him leaving him be more than he would prying. Techno spent a few days in his cabin alone, trying very hard not to be angry with Phil. But who was left if not Phil? He couldn’t be angry at Tommy. Tommy was in the right. Theseus had every right to be pissed, to want nothing to do with him. So the only person left to blame was Technoblade. He spend hours muttering to himself, talking back and forth with chat. Chat seemed to be divided. Half believed it was the better thing to do, to keep it secret, the other said that he should’ve told Tommy ages ago. They weren’t wrong. He had a chance. In Pogtopia he had a chance. Before doomsday, before the community house he had a chance. Tommy had been through hell and back, and Technoblade could’ve prevented it, but he didn’t. His own son died because he had stayed silent. Techno slammed his fist into the wall before letting out a soul shattering scream of frustration. How could he have been so stupid?

Tommy stood outside the houses, staring between the turtle shell helmet in his hands and the cozy inviting cabin he’d once called home. At one point it had been entirely alone, nothing but Carl in his stable outside but now it was busy. The house stood facing Phil’s own cabin, a small pond below the bridges connecting them, beacons shining nearby, Ranboo’s house not so far, a large herd of cows in a pen, polar bears inside and outside the house, a dog kennel and several dogs lounging in and out of it. It was nothing like the desolate and lonely house Tommy had last seen it as. He took a breath and shook his head. Clearly Technoblade was fine. He had Ranboo, Phil, his animals. He wouldn’t be alone. It was a bittersweet thought. On one hand he didn’t want Technoblade to be left entirely alone. He was angry but…Techno had been kind to him. Given him gifts, a home, hidden him. But on the other hand…it felt like Tommy was being abandoned, replaced. Ranboo had taken his spot as Tubbo’s best friend. Hell they were married and raising a child. Now Ranboo was living happily alongside Technoblade and Phil. Tommy wasn’t a fan of the pattern he was seeing. But unfortunately Ranboo was disgustingly pleasant. He considered turning back, maybe even just tossing the shell onto the porch by the door and making a run for it before anybody saw him, but in his moment of hesitation the decision was made for him. Techno closed the door behind him and turned, freezing, bow slung over his shoulder.

“…you weren’t supposed to see me here.” Tommy said hesitantly when he realized Techno wouldn’t say anything first.

“Your helmet,” Techno said, pointing at the turtle shell clenched in Tommy’s hands.

“Yeah. I was going to return it to you.” Tommy said, shrugging awkwardly.

“…why?”

“You know why. Don’t act stupid.” Tommy said glaring at Techno. “You can’t expect me to not be upset after finding out you abandoned me and lied to me my whole life. I know you’re not good with people but you can’t be that stupid.”

“I’m sorry, I know, I was just… you should keep the helmet Theseus-“

“Don’t call me that. Don’t use that stupid fucking nickname!” Tommy yelled.

“…I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I promise you I didn’t want it to go the way it did.” Techno said, sighing.

“You’d take it back? Fat load of good that does now.”

“No. I’d do the same. Not this part. Not keeping it a secret.”

“Thanks. Makes me feel so much better to know you still don’t want me.” Tommy said sarcastically.

“What? Of course I wanted you.” Techno said, frowning and walking down the steps to stand in front of Tommy.

“Then why did you get rid of me so easily? Why didn’t you want me to know you?” Tommy asked, rage boiling in his chest.

“Giving you to someone else was the hardest thing I ever did. I spent a year as your dad, your first word was papa, you were my heart and soul.” Techno said softly. “I had to give you to someone else. I had to give you a better home Tommy.”

“Why couldn’t you have kept me?” Tommy asked, the venomous tone in his voice dying down slightly.

“Come, I’ll tell you everything. It’s too cold out here and you don’t have a coat,” Techno said, walking back up the stairs. Tommy was going to refuse, but his legs moved automatically, and he followed Techno inside. Techno gestured for him to sit at the table and filled the kettle with water, setting it on the wood stove and pulling out cups. “Usual?” Techno asked, looking over his shoulder. Tommy nodded and watched Techno pull out the sugar and milk. The tea was done quickly and Techno set Tommy’s cup in front of him, sitting across the table from him. “How much do you want to know?” Techno asked after taking a breath.

“Everything. I want you to be honest with me.” Tommy replied curtly.

“Alright. I suppose I should start with your name. Theseus is your actual name, Tommy was a nickname. Your mom called you Tommy, so it stuck.” Techno admitted.

“It…wasn’t just a stupid nickname?”

“No.”

“You have terrible taste in names big man.” Tommy said, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, you may be right on that,” Techno replied, laughing.

“My mother…what happened?” Tommy asked.

“She died a few hours after you were born. There were some issues, we knew she wasn’t gonna make it weeks before, so she decided that she would just hold you until she went. And she did just that.” Techno sighed. Tommy couldn’t figure out the look on Techno’s face. He seemed to be both sad and happy at the same time. It was odd, he hadn’t seen Techno look like this before.

“Did you love her?”

“Absolutely. The only person I ever loved more is you.” Techno replied easily. “We didn’t get married, but it didn’t matter much to us.”

“What was she like?”

“She was…like you actually. Everything I could only hope to become. She was kind, happy, she was always smiling. She saw the good in everything and everyone, and she stood up for what she believed in regardless of the cost. You look just like her, you have her hair and her eyes. You’re more her than me, that’s a good thing.” Techno said, smiling fondly on the memories of her. He saw so much of her in Tommy and he was unbelievably grateful for it.

“So…why did you give me up then? If you were so happy to have me or whatever?” Tommy asked, not looking at Techno. He heard him sigh deeply and almost retracted the question but decided not to. He had a right to know.

“You know about chat? The voices I hear?” Tommy nodded in response. “Well… sometimes chat is too hard for me to handle. Sometimes they take over. Sometimes they win. And one night they almost did.” Techno reached out and held Tommy’s jaw loosely, thumb running over the scar there. “They almost won and I almost lost you. You deserved a dad who didn’t try to kill you. You deserved a stable family, I didn’t want you to grow up not feeling safe cause I couldn’t control myself. So I gave you to Phil.” Techno pulled away and sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Did you ever wish you hadn’t?”

“That’s…hard. I wish I didn’t have to. I wish it wasn’t what had been best at that time. I wish I hadn’t needed to do it, but I don’t regret it. I would’ve loved to have been your father for as long as I lived. But I wasn’t about to risk your life for my happiness.” Techno explained.

Tommy had wanted to stay angry. Some pet of him still was, deep down. He still wanted to hit and scream and throw a tantrum, but the other part, the larger, more rational part, the part of him that had been through everything including death and war, felt the anger wash away. He hadn’t been abandoned. He was wanted. He was loved. He was cared for. It had been out of necessity, not because Techno just didn’t want him. Tommy couldn’t remember the scar, or getting it. Some part of him was scared but he remembered doomsday. Techno had a clear chance to kill him. To end it there. But he didn’t. He knew Techno wouldn’t hurt him, even if he was pissed.

“…I died.” Tommy said quietly. He heard Techno draw in a sharp breath.

“I know.”

“Did…did you care?”

“It destroyed me. I almost killed Philza. There’s a grave site on a mountain a few hours from here. I carved the headstone and planted the flowers. I cared.” Techno said quietly. Tommy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and with it came a river of tears. Sixteen years of anger, frustration, misery, loneliness, isolation, all of it, came rushing out as he nearly choked on his sobs. He wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to stop himself but he couldn’t. He kept sobbing and the tears kept coming. He felt arms wrap around him and let them pull him onto the ground. He leaned into someone, sitting on their lap. It took a few moments for him to realize it was Techno.

Tommy turned and buried his face into his shoulder, sobbing freely into it, soaking Techno’s shirt with tears. He felt Techno gently rubbing his back and quietly mumbling as he kept crying, encouraging him to let it out. It felt like forever before he stopped, head pounding, eyes burning and exhausted. He drew in a deep shaky breath, sitting up again and laughing pitifully.

“This is your fault,” he said lightly, not actually angry.

“I’ll try to stop messing up,” Techno replied, laughing and smiling. He gently brushed the hair in Tommy’s eyes behind his ear and smiled at him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I was going to but I just…didn’t.” Techno added, sighing.

“It’s okay…well it’s not but… I forgive you,” Tommy said. He paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind if later you were my dad again,” he added tentatively. Techno’s face lit up.

“You mean it?” He asked.

“Yeah…we can try again.” Tommy said, nodding.

“I’ll do better,” Techno said sincerely. He paused and thought. “Can I call you Theseus?” He added.

“Yeah…I’m okay with that. Only you though. It’s a dumb name,” Tommy replied, smiling. Techno laughed and nodded.

“Fair enough. Thank you for giving me another chance kid,” Techno said softly, holding Tommy close to his chest.

“Thank you for wanting to give it a shot,” Tommy answered, letting himself lean into Techno and relax for what felt like the first time in ages. It felt like home.

https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/32077654

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