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kkusuka · 3 years

Note

Have I told you I hate weak y/n’s that get pushed around by fangirls? No? Well, I hate them 😊

Let’s have Oikawa, Atsumu, Akaashi, Semi, and Terushima react to their normally calm gf, beat the dog shit out of a fangirl that tried to intimidate her for dating said men above. Reader just has a soft smile before cocking her fist back and boxing her shit before holding up the fangirl and looking to the rest like “You wanna end up like her? No? Then know your place~ ☺️”. Then she faces her bf with a sweet smile and says something affectionate like “I brought you lunch, dear. I made it just how you like it 😄” before kissing his cheek like she didn’t go Muhammad Ali on a bitch

Oikawa Tooru<3

Oikawa’s had more than a few less than pleasant experiences with women

Considering he’s always been surrounded by them, from his sister's friends in middle school and being swarmed by them in High school and college- having women around him was nothing new

And for the most part, they were all pleasant

Giving him little gifts and food- that he always gave to you- and just telling him how much they loved watching him play

All things he can deal with before talking to his favorite girl, you

Though, there have been instances of some bold woman who just never get the hint

Whether it be drunkenness or some weird dream of having Oikawa to herself or just blatant disregard of his relationship

And right now just happens to be one of those times- but now you got a firsthand view of the madness.

Whoever this was clearly didn't understand relationships or personal space for that matter

She had a hand on his chest and was just blubbering about how she would be the best wife for him and would make life so much easier- much more than you do for him- and that was just what you saw from the ten seconds you were in earshot

He would normally laugh it offend continue seeking out autographs but he seemed to be locked in an iron maiden

“I promise! Forget about your girlfriend, she’s useless anyways!” and finally a perfect chance to make yourself known

“Tooru, I have your lun-” you attempted to grab him away, him shooting a pleading look to save him before your wrist was snatched from his arm and tugged away and shoved to the side then pushing your body away from the two

“Back off bitch!”

Now, you were normally a pretty calm person, you knew how to deal with the women and you have been for years.

But you stand by the fact that it was never ok to put your hands on someone- no matter the situation.

But at that moment, you could care less about your silly reparations and breathing methods, that lady put a hand on you and pushed you

You could hear Tooru telling her to keep her hands off you but you just looked around and made sure that everyone saw what had happened, you don't need to be arrested anytime soon

Grabber her arm you detached her from your boyfriends and in the next second your fist was connecting with her face, watching her wither on the floor you turn to your boyfriend who’s now coming towards you

“As I was saying, I have your lunch.”

Atsumu Miya<3

Another guy who’s constantly surrounded by women

Although he is far less appreciative and nice to them, and he makes it a point to be abundantly clear that you are the only woman he will spend the rest of his life with

Something that wasn't too popular with a few specific fans

Every blue moon someone will find his phone number and blow it up with loving messages or try and get his address

The worst it’s been was someone finding his apartment number and thankfully being too far away to come by themselves but they did send some inappropriate images to his PO box and that led him to create an even thinker line between fans and himself

Thankful, the whole of them understood and respected his boundaries

Buuuuut there are always people who go the extra step

Like whoever this is crowding your boyfriend after a win against the Alders with a giant poster of him and a …. Thong

If you were the slightest more stoic you would have held in the laugh that started it all but it seems crazy is crazy no matter how you provoke them

That lady heard you laugh and the flood gates opened, in a split second her hand was on your cheek then she was on the floor holding what you could hope was a broken jaw

You didn't even realize you punched her until a shooting pain went up your wrist

Though before you had a chance to return to your lovely boyfriend, who was standing in the same spot shell shocked (and slightly turned on) hand grabbed your ankle the flung you to the ground

It was, for lack of a better term, a catfight

She was hitting you and you were hitting her and she was screaming random shit about how awful you were to her precious Atsumu- seriously this lady was insane

Nevertheless, security arrived, and let’s just say that you were in much better condition than she was, who knew you could fight so well?

Though you weren't allowed to come to the next game and had to apologize to the heads of the Volleyball association, Tsumu was proud of you and the internet was on your side- so it was kind of a win-win

Akaashi Keiji<3

He surprisingly doesn't have a swarm of fangirls around him

But it’s much much worse, you’d rather have a mob of girls around him than the four specific psychos that never leave the poor guy alone

Everywhere in school at least one of them is watching the two of you, in class, at lunch- no matter where you try and eat- you swear you even saw one at the boba show you pass on your walk home with him

The worst part?

He thinks it’s funny.

It is hilarious to him that you try so hard to keep them away full knowing he would never leave you for the likes of them. It’s just too cute how you puff up your cheeks and huff about them and honestly, it's a breath of fresh air considering how much everyone kisses up to him

Well- he likes it when they are at a distance

On the off chance they get close to him, it's a different story. They truly are intolerable, and they away try bad-mouthing you to him like it was supposed to mean something that they don't like you

And they only ever do it when you’re away- cowards they truly are. And since they’re always watching, as soon as you left to buy the two of you lunch, one of them was on him in an instant

She was annoying and all she could say was ho you were a ‘poison’ in his life and he had to leave you as soon as possible

He didn't even realize you were there until a hand grabbed the back of her uniform and flung her off him. And from the looks of it, falling on the ground really hurt

“I’m a poison? That’s all you could come up with?”

You didn't even have to say another word, she was already out of sight

Not missing a beat, you handed him his lunch and started talking about the latest episode of the volleyball anime you loved.

Semi Eita<3

First off- a total power couple

Not only are you willing to beat a bitch, but he’s also ready to hype you up while you do it

It’s not confirmed you have, but there are rumors that you fought more than a few girls who were less than pleasant. And it’s not like you do anything for rumor control, you just laugh and turn the other way

Still, even with the rumor mill running rampant, some girls still try and shoot their shot

But this girl has to be the boldest woman on planet earth

Not only was she flirting with an openly taken man, but she was flirting with him as he held his arm around your waist. She even looked at you as she spoke to him, the audacity of people these days

“You like music? That’s crazy, I do too!” you wanted her to shut the fuck up as soon as possible.

What pissed you off more was that he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was letting it happen to spite you.

What happened after this you blame solely on the alcohol the party was providing and not on the fact you wanted to clock this girl the moment you saw her

It was just that suddenly your drink was in her face

Then her drink was in her face, and she was running to the bathroom, maybe she should listen to rumors more often because you don't think strawberry daiquiri will come out of a white crop too so easily

Terushima Yuji<3

He’s an ass

But he’s your ass, somehow

He’s a manwhore and an attention-whore, mix that should have been shot before it could grow into something more

By now you're used to the girls slipping him their numbers and hitting him up on every social media site possible and you remain happy to say he doesn't respond- probably too busy dicking you down to care about any of them

Plus, less than 1% of them actually approach them in public, and they just happen to be the most insufferable people on the planet.

Desperation doesn't even describe it

Of that 1%, at least half of them try to touch him, running a hand on his arm, tugging at his clothes, maybe even a strand of his hair, all you can deal with because he knows what’ll happen if he even entertains their advances

But for some reason, the only thing that sets you off is when they mention the tongue piercing.

It invokes a rage unknown within you, the second the metal ball’s mentioned you see red. And he fucking loves it, you could be three prefectures over and the second the girl mentions it, you magically appear at his side like you’d been there the whole time

All of a sudden you’re all over him, disregarding this girls words as she tries to bring the conversation back to her, going as far as grabbing your shoulder, and since she touched you first- you had the green light

Your arm pulled back and your fist connected to her cheek

And like nothing ever happened you turned back to the blond

tags: @diamond-3 @rinsangel @heyheyitsne @angelalje @monisi @crystal-lilac @sadpotato10

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tender-rosiey · 3 years

Note

fifteen dazai meeting his future s/o

I just saw a bnha version of this and because dazai is the main focus of my life I immediately thought of him and how he’d react

❥ Fifteen Dazai meeting his future s/o

ᴀ/ɴ: I do not blame you, dazai >>>>>>>> everything else; anyways hope you like this 💘

One day in the Dark Era a bitchass had an ability to make people time travel

And our little dazai was not aware of that person and somehow got hit by it yay

So what happens when he is dropped right in front of his future self cuddling you on the Ada couch?

You were chilling in the embrace of your lover with closed eyes and a content heart on the couch until you suddenly heard a thud that startled you; you opened your eyes to look at where the sound came to see a fifteen year old kid flattened like a pancake on the floor with black clothing all over.

“Osamu, who’s that?” You asked your lover who answered you with silence; the kid stood up groaning and rubbing his head until he was met by the sight of you and Dazai. “Where am I?” He asked looking around; “I believe I have an answer for that.” Your lover called out before gently leaving you on the couch and placing a hand in the kid’s shoulder.

“You are in the future and I am you in it!”

Confusion was written all over fifteen dazai’s face until your dazai whispered some stuff into his ear that the fifteen dazai nodded and said “I believe you.”

You sighed knowing exactly what he said

And then fifteen dazai looked at you and asked “and who is she?”

That’s when your dazai smiled brightly and started a one hour rant about how wonderful you are and how you are his one and only baby and the prettiest belladonna to exist

While that happened though you came up with what to call both of them so they don’t get confused

Fifteen dazai was emo bitch while future dazai was mask

JUST KIDDING

Fifteen dazai was zai and future dazai was osamu 😌

Introductions aside, they were pretty much vibing when they talked and if god forbid chuuya was there then prepare for trouble and make it double

But it’s not chuuya spotlight tonight

Now I think zai would actually flirt with you to spite his future self

“You know y/n, it’s hard to believe such an amazing person exists.”

Insert a vessel popping

And it’s osamu’s

Cause he warned his past self about flirting with you

They would fight over you but like by wits

Unlike two certain chihuahuas that would throw each other across all of Yokohama

A roast battle basically

And if they happen to put aside getting near you being a taboo

They will just both tease you endlessly

Tough luck honey

Dazai is mischievous as hell in both the pm and the ada fight me

“So how is that you look so lovely everyday, my love?” osamu said with hand pulling you closer by the waist while zai came from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder and said “I mean you see her everyday, but seriously I have never seen anything or anyone more enchanting, truly a masterpiece.”

*fans self* honestly love, I wish you luck cause they are toying with you until they get bored which is probably not any time sooner

Osamu will also introduce zai to the wonders of cuddling

“Look here my dear self, y/n literally gives the best cuddles and you will just feel in heaven.”

“Really now?”

“Why am I being shown off like a car?”

And so zai being the touch starved kid he was spent an hour getting lost in your embrace and cuddling you while you played with his hair

Osamu was just watching proudly from the sidelines or depending on which being behind you cradling you in arms

At the end of the day each one of them has their head on one of your legs asleep while you play with their hair

HAHA YOU THOUGHT

Zai was awake and kept asking you stuff about yourself so he can get to know you

He was really listening good too :0

When he got sleepy he looked you in the eyes then at the ground and muttered a soft ‘thank you’

And ding dong the next day when you and your lover open your eyes there is no one but you two in the room

“Well that was something, anyways I have to go bother Kunikida, belladonna; take care of yourself and I love you!”

He would continue the day like nothing happened and will just tell the rest about it like it’s something simple and they would all think he ate more poisonous mushrooms cause well

It’s Dazai

So run to your lover and back him up

unless you want him to get a damn cute beating from our wonderful and very friendly Kunikida for being delusional and slacking again ☺️

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 3 years

Text

happy getting hitched day! 1.9k, (sort of) ft. this

Most days of the year, Sam's the optimist.

It doesn't usually fall on Dean to keep the spirits up in times of war anymore. Or worse, loss. And Dean, well, he thinks himself as enough of an in-the-moment kinda guy to not wallow when everything's not going to shit, right friggin' then.

Sam, on the other hand?

Beacon of light when there's a little Hell to raise, harbinger of hope when there's a God to defeat.

And losing his shit entirely when there's an aisle to walk down, leading to the girl of his dreams and the best decision of his life.

"Dean."

Dean fusses around Sam in compact little semicircles fixing his already perfect tux, while his brother panics in a way Dean only remembers from before the kid stopped having to look up at Dean.

But he's looking down at Dean now, wide-eyed and sweaty like the very first time Dean saw him off on a date when he was fourteen — with supple, bullshit eighteen-year-old advice, he bets — and thirty eight year old Sammy is, clear as day, losing his shit.

"Yeah?" Dean channels all the calm he's got into it.

"What if I forget my vows?"

"Well," Dean lifts his eyebrows, and picks up a linen thread from Sam's shoulder that caught his eye. "First of all, would kinda serve you right for writing six pages worth of them."

"Stop being a —"

"Front and back, Sammy. Front and back."

"Dean." Sam glares, more indignant than mad. Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam continues, replacing the look immediately with a troubled one that reflects the dilemma in his voice. "I mean, I've learned them, of course. At least I think I have — I practised twice last night, once this morning — but what's to stop me from fumbling, or forgetting —"

"Your gigantic nerd brain?"

"This is serious." Sam frowns, levelling another look at Dean like he's the one with the stellar proverbial cold feet. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean throws back immediately, and pauses in his shuffling around for effect. "Also, no. No, it isn't." And Sam goes to argue with a bitchface already surfacing, but Dean keeps going, sterner, more confident. This is something he's been doing all his life. He can probably talk the kid down from a panic high like this in his sleep. "And you're going to stop being a dumbass, and listen to what I'm saying."

"'M not a dumbass." Sam mutters.

"Yeah, you are." Dean shrugs, completely nonchalant, and Sam laughs in spite of himself, nervous, but a welcome improvement as he waits for Dean to proceed. (Big brother voice never lets Dean down.)

He's still got it.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get out there," Dean continues, smiling now. "You're going to hold Eileen's hand while the minister marries you. And approximately ten to fifty minutes later, when he asks you to, you're going to look into her eyes, and you're going to say your vows. All stupid six pages of them, verbatim, 'cause I know you, and you're going to that's why."

"They're not stupid."

Dean hums in consideration, then smirks. "There's bravery in acceptance. They probably are."

"Cas called them exquisite." Sam crosses his arms, and Dean uses the opportunity to pick up a hair from his sleeve with a disapproving look.

(Dean had offered to give him a haircut seventeen times and gotten turned down, and now Sam was shedding.)

"Yeah, well, he's a walking-talking scrabble board with good manners, what is he supposed to do?" Dean rolls his eyes but instead of the expected response of Sam snarking back at him, bitchfacing him or something, Sam sighs.

The air thickens with something that's probably a bigger deal than having to wing a couple paragraphs of page three of the vows.

Dean watches Sam fidget with the buttons on his cuff.

"How did you know, Dean?" Sam asks, subdued, after a pause. "How did you know that Cas wasn't — that Cas wasn't making a horribly wrong decision."

Dean's almost halfway to making a joke about the other shoe but he stops himself.

Because this?

This, he gets.

This feeling of thinking — knowing — you're not good enough, that you aren't right for the one you love, that you're somehow deceiving everything that your life has stood as proof of, in allowing someone else to bind themselves to you, forever, when you know that everyone who's ever meant something to you has lost, and died, and hurt.

And that is exactly why he also knows what to say.

"Because I trust him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes start glazing over. "I trust her too. I just, I'm just so scared —"

Dean winces at his words.

(That's Sam, but it's Sam in Dean's shoes. It was Dean's job — for better or for worse — to keep him safe. And he's failed, failed repeatedly, and now Sam — well, he's as broken as Dean.)

"I love her too much for anything to go wrong, Dean, and something — no, everything, always goes wrong." Sam grits his teeth, and Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Squeezes. "I get it. I swear to you, I do. But I also promise that you might regret the things we've done, and the things that have been done to us, but you're never going to regret this."

Sam nods jerkily, eyes downcast.

"And I get being scared. Hell, I was more scared than you the entire week, dude. But you know how — and why, I pushed through?" Sam looks up again. "Because at the end of all of this, there's something more important than the promises of eternal happiness, and forever, and the Celine Dion lyrics I know you've stuffed in your vows. There's them. The ones we love."

Dean swallows.

"And who love us too, because our fucked up heads be damned, I've seen the way she looks at you, Sammy." Sam's face breaks into a small, wet smile. "So you better believe she does."

"I do." Sam slowly nods, again, eyes brimmed with tears.

(Probably about to start spilling. The only consolation for Dean is that at least his tears don't fall. Means as long as he doesn't mind a blurry view of everything, he might as well ignore their existence like he means it.)

"There, was that so hard?" Dean laughs instead, although it's weak until Sam joins in, surprised, and only then registering the words he just spoke.

"Thank you, Dean."

Is all he says, and anything Dean might've wished to say (or wisecrack) back at him is dismissed immediately because he's being pulled into a full Winchester hug by his door-sized little brother, and all he can do then is hold onto Sam as tight as he's holding him, and hold on.

(Because they made it.

They found free will, they found love, and they found their happy ending.)

Because Sammy's getting married today.

And they don't just get to be okay anymore. They get to be happy.

Sam doesn't pull back from the hug for at least a whole minute, but Dean doesn't mind, because the tears welling up in his eyes are gone when he finally smiles at Dean, earnest. "I'm —" He starts to say, but gets interrupted by Cas walking up to them with a cluster of carnations in his hand, wearing a rich navy blue tux (the same as Dean's) and a wide smile.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Cas beams, knowing exactly what he walked in on, and Sam shakes his head courteously while Dean battles the weirdly overwhelming need to kiss him right there — Cas is almost ridiculously beautiful when he's happy.

(He doesn't, though.

Cause he and Sam may've just had a moment but it's not like that means he'd be any less likely to be a pain in the ass about urgently requiring brain bleach and therapy, if Dean did.)

Cas carries on.

"Actually, Eileen's friend, Cara, brought her flowers and she suggested I should bring some to you."

"A corsage." Dean realizes out loud, beginning to grin at once, while Sam resorts to ducking his head like an overgrown teenage girl on her way to prom. Doesn't mean that Dean absolutely doesn't put on his best chickflick Dad voice (after he's taken over pinning the flowers to Sam's pocket from Cas, cause he was doing it wrong) and pat the corsage when he says, "Get 'er home by ten."

"The dynamics of that are all wrong." Sam points out with a traditional Sam smirk, and yeah, he's okay.

"The dynamics of your face are all wrong."

"Great comeback, yeah." Sam snorts, and Cas smiles. "Points for effort. I think."

"Whatever, you're the one wearing flowers right now."

"Dean, you wore an ascot on our wedding day."

"Ascot trumps flowers!"

"No, it doesn't." Sam bitchfaces, and Dean turns to Cas, and —

"No, it doesn't."

And Sam lets out a victorious "Hah!", and high-fives a (only slightly) confused looking Cas before pulling him into a sasquatch-sized hug as well, while Dean rewards the entire ordeal with a heartfelt eyeroll and absolutely doesn't look on at two of the most important people in his life while he pretends to be bristled about being ganged up against on his special day as Best Man.

Cas and Sam separate sooner than Dean and he did, and just in time for Jack to poke his head out the church door and remind them they're ready.

Then, Cas leaves to get Eileen, with another big smile and a signed Congratulations at Sam, and a fleeting cheek-kiss for Dean.

Then, Sam and Dean get in position behind the door and Sam refixes his tie.

(Then, Dean has to stage-whisper "Jack!" about seven times before the kid realizes he's being cued — the band had just started playing, he makes it a point to try to explain to Dean afterwards — and the great, wooden doors finally swing open to reveal a beautiful white aisle, and dozens of their friends and family smiling from both sides of it.)

And then, Dean finally walks the kid he's raised and the brother he's saved the World with countless times, down the aisle.

(Sam only messes up once in his vows. It's the last verse of Thank You, by Celine Dion.

Rumor has it, it was intentional.

Something about the first time they met.

Dean tells Sam, "You're welcome", the next time he sees him.)

#happy saileen day #dean winchester pov #i just wanted to write a nervous sam before walking down the aisle scene and it turned into an actual fic from dean's point of view so —#saileen wedding #sam winchester being sam winchester #eileen leahy #deancas #background destiel #bluefirecas #userpris #usersila #holmesemrys #tearsofgrace #userstarry #rambleoncas #userdori #oh writing my writing

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years

Text

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

#bnha #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #Dabi #mha smut #mha x reader #tw: noncon #tw: pain play

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lxngbottom · 3 years

Note

Hiii!! First off love your writing!!! Second I was hoping we could get a part two to cold night? Sweet luv ya!!

A Cold Night. | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville tries to make up for what happen at the yule ball.

warnings: swearing, just a tad bit of angst!

i honestly didn’t expect for anyone to actually want a pt 2 to this but once again, you ask i deliver!

PART 1 HERE!

—

it had been a whole week since the night of the yule ball. one whole week of the silent treatment from y/n, and neville felt like he was losing it.

he couldn’t even put into words the guilt that remained sitting in his gut. especially when he would look at her from his seat in one of their shared classes, and she would shoot daggers right into his soul. it was truly killing him. and, he wished he could fix it.

“y/n, will you please get in a better mood? i’m trying to focus, and i can practically feel the anger leaking off of you!” hermione exclaimed, tending to the plant that sat in front of them. y/n simply rolled her eyes at her friend,

“sorry that my emotions are distracting you from cutting... whatever this is!” y/n aggravatingly stated, flicking the mystery plant in front of them, “what in merlin’s beard are we even supposed to be doing anyway?”

hermione huffed and narrowed her eyes at her friend, “were you seriously not listening to sprout? we’re supposed to be carefully trimming the leaves off of this—well... i forgot what it’s called.”

y/n didn’t respond to her, just simply looked over at neville who was going around, helping others around the greenhouse with their assignment. she clenched her jaw, still remembering the yule ball mishap. she didn’t know why, but she still felt so spiteful over it.

why couldn’t neville ask her to the yule ball? was it not obvious enough that she fancied him? or was he truly just that oblivious?

why couldn’t it have been her that night?

“merlin, i have absolutely no idea what i’m doing...” hermione admitted, slamming the trimmers down on the table. y/n chuckled from hermione’s failed attempt at having an attitude, and shook her head.

just as y/n was feeling some sort of relief from her angst, the root of the problem came strolling along to their table. he was visibly nervous as he glanced at y/n for a second, and then at hermione.

“h-hey guys... do you need some help?” he asked, his voice soft.

“actually, yes! we would—“

“piss off, longbottom.” y/n cut hermione off, and hermione’s jaw dropped. the girl scoffed, and neville simply nodded his head in defeat, and walked away.

hermione hit y/n’s arm, and y/n let out a yelp, “ow! what was that for?”

“we needed his help! why would you do that?”

y/n rolled her eyes, “we don’t need his help! we can figure it out on our own!”

y/n picked up the trimmers, and started observing the plant harshly, studying the leaves and where they were growing from,

“if you make us fail this assignment... i’ll never speak to you again, y/n.”

—

turns out, hermione and y/n did end up failing that assignment. and, if things couldn’t get worse, hermione cursed y/n’s name for making her average drop, which was always quite annoying considering y/n knew that hermione would never fall from her class rank, as she was at the top.

fortunately for the two girls, professor sprout had blessed them with a makeup assignment. it was a simple essay that had to be written, about the properties of any plant of their choice. but, it needed to be four to five pages.... at least.

y/n sat in the library, multiple herbology books scattered in front of her. she bit down on her thumb, staring at the blank parchment. she had no idea what plant would be the easiest to write about, and quite honestly, even if she did, she didn’t know how to describe it. neville had always assisted her in times like this, especially when it came to herbology, but that wasn’t an option.

she huffed, and glanced out the window. she saw students in small groups, talking and laughing. she envied them, as she wished she could not only be free from this dreadful essay, but as well, that she could actually speak with her friends.

“y/n?”

y/n whipped her head around, and spotted a nervous ginny weasley standing a little ways away from her designated table. she rolled her eyes, looking away from the ginger. she knew it was probably unfair to be angry at ginny, but she couldn’t help the spitefulness that she had pent up.

“i know you’re angry at me, but... can we talk?”

y/n bit down on her lip in aggravation, and turned her head once more, “what is there to talk about, weasley? i think i’ve made it pretty clear to you and longbottom both that i want the two of you to piss off.”

truthfully, ginny and y/n had never been super close, as ginny was in a year below all of y/n’s friends (herself included). but ginny would be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt her feelings to know that y/n had a grudge held against her.

“i know. but, i need to tell you something. so please... you don’t have to talk, just listen.”

y/n thought about it for a moment, knowing that ginny wouldn’t stop pestering her if she said no, so she motioned for ginny to sit down in front of her. the girl did so slowly, setting her bag down on the table quietly.

“you deserve to know what happened, y/n. that night—“

“i fucking know what happened, weasley. trust me.”

ginny sighed, “no. before the ball. the truth about neville and me, and why he even asked me in the first place.”

that’s when y/n’s thoughts began to take ahold of her.

did ginny and neville kiss? were they official now? what was ginny about to say that could possibly shatter y/n’s heart more than it already had been?

“neville and me... we’re just friends, y/n. strictly friends!” ginny informed her, her hands hitting the table lightly. “and... the only reason he even asked me is because i didn’t have a date, and neither did he.”

y/n scoffed, “well, i didn’t have a date either. you two weren’t the ones that ended up going alone and sitting by themselves all night!”

y/n hadn’t realized it, but thinking back to that night had caused tears to form in her eyes. she could only remember the jealousy, and the sadness from seeing them two on the dance floor together, seemingly having the time of their lives.

“yeah... because neville wanted to ask you.”

the statement sparked interest in y/n’s chest, and she narrowed her eyes at ginny,

“w-what?”

ginny sighed once more, and glanced around for a moment, “y/n... the only reason why neville asked me is because he wanted to ask you. but, you know how he is... he was afraid that you had already found someone. and, i’m honestly surprised that you didn’t. you know, you being pretty and all...”

y/n’s lips parted as she tried to process the information.

neville wanted to go with her?

“you—you’re lying...”

ginny shook her head, “i’m not! i would never lie about something like this. he told me himself. before, during, and even after the ball. you don’t even know how guilty he felt when you ran off crying.”

the thoughts running through y/n’s head were going at a pace that not even she herself could keep up with. she glanced down at her books, and then back up at ginny, and began to hurriedly collect her belongings.

“where are you going?” ginny asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“i-i have to go find him! i have to apologize for being such a bitch to him this last week! mind putting these books up for me?” y/n asked, shoving her stuff into her bag.

“uh, yeah... definitely! go find him!”

y/n flashed a small smile at ginny, taking her by surprise. she began to walk off, but suddenly stopped and turned around as ginny began to close her abandoned books,

“ginny,” y/n called out, and ginny looked at her, “i’m sorry.”

ginny smiled at her, “it’s alright, y/n. just go and fix it.”

y/n nodded once more, and stormed off before ginny could say anything else.

she began to search, and search hard. she considered every place that neville could be, as he was one to hide away from the world when things felt too stressful.

y/n spotted seamus and dean in the hall, and ran up to them,

“oh! hey—“

“do you guys know where longbottom is?”

the two boys looked at each other, questioning looks etched upon their faces,

“uh, no. we haven’t seen him since earlier today. why?” dean told her,

“um... no reason. thanks for letting me know. i’ll see you guys later!”

and with that, she stormed off down the hallway. seamus and dean looked at each other once more,

“girls...” seamus huffed, and shook his head, dean agreeing with a chuckle.

y/n made her way to the greenhouse, more than sure that neville would be there. but, when she peaked in, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. it truly began to worry her, and she had to take a few deep breaths before she continued her search for the gryffindor boy that she adored so much.

as she stood against the wall for a moment, she realized one more place where he could’ve been.

she was running all over the place, trying to get to the destination as fast as she could. she pushed passed people, muttering small apologies to them as they scoffed from her “lack of manners”.

finally, she arrived. and, when she began to slow down, she spotted the boy. she took a breath of relief before continuing to walk.

he stood in the lake, pants rolled up to his knees, staring at the plant in his hand. just like he always did. and usually, y/n would be sitting under the tree that sat right next to the lake, listening to his small lessons about the qualities of the new found plants.

neville heard footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see a panting y/n, gasping for air.

“y/n? are you alright?”

she didn’t respond, only threw her bag down and put her hands on her knee caps in an attempt to catch her breath from all of the running she had just done.

“fine... just... winded...” she responded in between heavy breaths, feeling as if she could puke.

neville stepped out of the lake, slowly approaching the girl, plant and dirt still in hand. “well... why are you so winded?”

y/n finally fully stood up, and wiped the little sweat that had formed on her forehead. she glanced up and down, observing how he looked. he always looked so adorable at times like this. it made her realize how much she had actually missed him.

“to—to find you. i couldn’t find you anywhere, so... well—never mind that. it doesn’t matter.” she quickly shook off her verbal thoughts, and lightly smiled at him. “i talked to ginny...”

his eyes widened a little, and he coughed awkwardly as he set the small water plant down on the ground, “you did?”

she nodded, “yeah... is it true?”

he looked at her, his cheeks beginning to flush. he knew exactly what she meant.

“yeah... it—it is true. all of it. i’m sorry i didn’t—“

that’s when y/n did something she had dreamed about doing ever since they were 12 years old. she walked up to him, grabbed him by the collar, and forced their lips together in a gentle kiss.

neville was taken back for a moment, but slowly leaned into her. his hand came up to her cheek, and he brought her closer, as he had waited for this very same moment since the first time they had met.

the two pulled away, breathless, lips swollen and pink. neville removed his hand slowly, only to find that he had smudged dirt onto her face.

“um... you got some dirt—“

she giggled, and wiped it off with her sleeve. he smiled at her, taking the moment in.

she then fixed his collar, a bright smile on her face,

“we can save the “i missed you’s” for later. i have a herbology essay to write, and i have no idea how i’m going to get it done.”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader #neville longbottom imagines

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shadowturtlesstuff · 3 years

Text

You belong with me

so i decided to post wadsworth first. modern au cressworth- you belong with me taylor swift

Thomas throws his phone down on the bed with frustration swirling around him as he paces. I set down my pen and wait till he turns and spots me. We often find ourselves talking via paper throughout the nights, from questions about our day to helping each other study. It is also often we watch each other be angry at something, yet I've not seen him this bad before. Finally Thomas turns and catches my eye. He stands there for a second before smiling and I quickly move around my various workbooks till I find my notebook I use to talk to him. I take my sharpie and write: ‘Are you okay?’

I watch him shake his head ever so slightly, seemingly baffled at it, but he walks to his window and opens it. The wind brushes his deep brown hair and I can't help but want to reach out and run my hand through it. I curse myself for it as he motions for me to open my window. Moving my books and pens off of me and cursing at my stiff leg as I go and open the window. Somehow I manage to hit my arm in the process and I curse, which makes Thomas laugh slightly so I forgive my body for hurting me.

“You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” he teases and I relax slightly because of it.

“Fuck you,” I scowl at his smirk and the frigid wind. His eyes light up at my temper. We live across from one another, if we were to reach out we could hold hands. Which we have done. When I got rejected from the specific school I was desperate to go to, Thomas had managed to climb into my room and hold me as I cried. He's only ever needed to climb over twice to cheer me up, the other times have been to study or watch some romance programme he thought was good. I hoped wherever was troubling was something that wouldn't resort to me having to climb over. As much as I would want to, my brain may have a hard time letting me attempt it.

“I assume dear Wadworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” he asks, eyes focused on behind me and fingers tapping his window sill as he sits. I watch as his cat, ridiculously named Sir Isaac Mewton, jumps off his bed and onto his seat next to him. He grabs the cat and kisses the top of his head before holding him in his lap.

“Perhaps,” I say, moving so I rest my head on the wall, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” his eyes shift to mine and despite him still being angry they soften at my attempt at humour. I am not as good as Thomas at using humour to help someone, but he always does it for me.

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” he smiles down at his cat. I remember the day he brought him home, he made me go over to his house and we spent all night playing with him. Thomas did, I ended up studying and making notes for the both of us while he gave Sir Isaac a ‘grand tour’ of his new home. The smile vanishes off Thomas's face and once again his gaze goes past me. “I assume you saw the call, well that was William. Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumour that I'm with Miss Whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I watch him scoff, anger once again taking over his features. His cat nuzzles into him and Thomas leans into his cat. If I wasn't also mad now I'd smile at the sight.

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?”

“Yes.”

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' I find myself standing and pacing, trying to quell my own rising anger. A year ago, William had been my lab partner for a few weeks, he was friendly, but people had got it in their head that we were somehow together, and he went with it. Gossiped about me, even Thomas, and then was somehow enraged I dared to stop those rumours and be angry at him. I'd come home one day when it was particularly too much, when my father had found out and lectured me about it, as though I was in the wrong for standing up for myself. He'd cancel my lesson with my uncle out of spite, and I stormed upstairs. Thomas had been at the window, as if he was expecting me. One look at his face made me cry. I managed to open my window and he'd once again climbed in and held me as I cried. Then he made us watch this awful romance film together and held me still as I fell asleep on him.

“I have never once,” Thomas says, dragging me back from those awful memories, “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She's just- a lot.”

I huff a sigh. She is awful. Had been awful to Liza and I for years. With her short skirts, high heels and the most rotten attitude I have ever witnessed. It wasn't often that I'd hate someone like that, someone so different from me in nearly every way, but she has tried to make me feel that I don't belong because of my interest in science and not the traditional girl interests.. “That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Beside, you wouldn't work, she's too- your,” I have no idea how to explain how excellent Thomas is, how wonderful his mind is and how kind he is. It's not a side he shows to most, yet if he was ever with someone like Whitehall, it would be disastrous. I take my seat again and find him looking at me, suppressing a smirk and raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask. I shrink under his gaze, pulling my hoodie over my legs as I curl in on myself.

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“Your absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” I roll my eyes as he shifts so he is fully facing me, eyes completely focused, no sign of the anger he had only moments ago, “your too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” don’t belong with her.

Ever since he mentioned the idea of being with someone else, real or not, I have tried to ignore how much it pained me that he would be with someone else. I never expected to want to be with him, yet lately the premise of dating him has seemed very pleasing to me.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” his voice is deeper than normal and his gaze travels over me even though his eyes are on my own. Thomas pats Sir Issac and his cat jumps off behind him with a whine. His hand reaches out for mine and I lean forward, wind making my loose strands of hair fly across my face. His hands are warm as I take them but his smile warms me more. It is small but genuine and filled with the normal Cresswell charm mixed with something I can't quite name.

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.”

“I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-” he looks down contemplating his words before he once again locks his gaze on mine, his dark brown eyes bright, “I dont belong with her, your right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.”

I blink at the honesty. I want to scream that you belong with me; but if Thomas is in love with someone else then I suppose I will have to find a way to deal with it. I try to keep the hurt of my face even as he smiles at me.

“I-” Thomas lets go of my hand and stands. There's a silence between us until he motions for me to move. The idiot is going to climb into my house so he can tell me about his new found love. Like the fool I am, I'm going to let him talk about this girl who makes him look this happy. Even though it hurts that it's not me who is making him look like that. Even though I'm the one who makes him laugh when he is angry or upset. Even though I'm the one who knows his favourite songs, the books beside his bed and all his hopes and dreams.

He climbs over and sets himself on the window sill, giving me room to sit across from him. I do, even as I try to ignore the weight pressing down on my chest. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I say and mean it. I once again curl into myself, hoodie covering my legs as i watch him continue to smile at me,

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” I blurt out, my mind catching up, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

“Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” He starts laughing at my gaping mouth until I collect myself enough to scowl at him slightly for laughing. Thomas reaches out for my hand, moving closer to me until my back is pressed against the wall, my hoodie no longer over my legs as he rests his other hand on my leg, warmth seeping through me. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.”

Silence washes over us as we stare, trying to convince ourselves this is really happening. “I have something to show you.” My voice is barely about a whisper and I slide out of his grasp even though I don't want to. I walk to my bed where all my notebooks were left open and my notebooks sits. I open it out and let a piece of paper fall out. Facing Thomas I open the sheet slowly, watch him read the words. His eyes lit up at them.

I love you.

I take my place beside him again, his hands finding their way in mine once again. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time. Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Thomas just stares at me, eyes flicking down to my lips every now and then. His hands are making circles on my leg, not entirely intentional. Thomas has always shown if he is excited or nervous by either tapping or making shapes on surfaces. The world slows completely as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. He pulls back ever so slightly, resting his head against mine and we are both smiling wildly at each other, pressing kisses until he leans further away. Thomas goes back to his side of the wall, which may as well be across the other side of the world, then he pulls me to him and I twist so that my back is against his. He holds me as we both look out the window, enjoying the freeing feeling of telling each other how we feel.

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.”

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black-blog @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @throneofsc @bookscressworth

#sjtr #hpd #efh #btdp #ctd #stalking jack the ripper #hunting prince dracula #escaping from houdini #capturing the devil #thomas cresswell #cresswell #audrey rose #audrey rose wadsworth #wadsworth #cressworth #kerii maniscalco #you belong with me

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Impersonal, Ch. 7

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated E

The game had ended and he wasn’t surprised.

He expected this. He prepared himself all day Saturday by running six miles, jacking off twice, and mopping his entire apartment. He didn’t even own a mop; he actually went out and bought one. By the time Sunday morning rolled around he was ready for the inevitable collapse of their precarious sexual arrangement and greeted Scully with aplomb.

And then she paid for breakfast.

That was unexpected. When the FBI wasn’t footing the bill, they usually split the tab, or threw a “you can get the next one” down on the table alongside crumpled bills.

He had been joking about it being a date, but then she paid. And it meant something. Her big blue eyes pinned him to the booth, had him trapped and squirming like an insect on a card as she laid a hand over the check. “I’ve got it,” she said, and his senses were suddenly ignited. He could feel thick sunshine pouring over them, lighting up Scully’s hair like a smudge of cinnamon. Her lips looked so sweet and soft, and the very idea that he might never feel them again stole his breath. He felt dry and empty, a desiccated housefly body lying on a windowsill.

He thanked her for breakfast, and his throat was lined with dust.

Their parting was weird. Hinting that he was still available to her was an insane risk, and she turned it into a joke about Frohike. Unless she actually thought he was the one joking about Frohike, which he has to admit wouldn’t be out of character for him.

He’s tired of joking, tired of hiding, tired of dancing around his intentions. Tired of wanting and not asking, tired of being in his own damn way.

Scully has given him a graceful exit, a neatly drawn map back to their pre-sex starting point. And not for the first time, Mulder wads up the map and tosses it aside. Scully made her move; it was time for him do the same.

What that move would be, he has no idea.

It takes him eleven days. No wonder Scully took matters into her own hands the first time around. Inspiration strikes him during his drive from Alexandria to D.C. the next Thursday morning, when he crosses the Potomac and gets a glimpse of faraway blossoms.

He waits until 4:47 that afternoon to say anything.

“Hey Scully, you doing anything tonight?” he asks, rifling through a stack of papers as though he’s attending to FBI business and not trying to work up courage like a schoolboy.

Her glossy red head is bent over a file, pen at her lip. “Besides folding an obscenely large pile of laundry, my schedule seems fairly empty,” she replies. She looks up at him suspiciously. “Why, Mulder?”

“No reason, really. There’s just something I wanted to show you, get your opinion on.”

“Is it related to a case?”

He opens a desk drawer, pretending to look for something. “Well it could be a totally natural phenomenon, but who can say for certain without proper investigation?”

Scully sighs. “Fine, I’ll bite. And speaking of bites, I’m starving. If we’re going to work off the clock, can we at least eat?”

“Wanna stop for Chinese? We can take it with us. We’re not going far, the food should still be hot when we get to our secondary location.”

They take Mulder’s car, picking up several cartons of food from a restaurant in Chinatown a few blocks up from the Hoover building before making their way towards the National Mall. Mulder parks in the lot near the Washington Monument.

“You weren’t kidding when you said we weren’t going far,” Scully says, gathering up the bag of takeout. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“That,” he replies, pointing ahead.

Hundreds of cherry trees line the Tidal Basin, their leaves almost entirely obscured by tufts of blossoms. Scully steps onto the path, open-mouthed.

“Oh my god,” she murmurs.

Mulder shoves his hands in his pockets. “Pretty fantastic, huh?”

“Mulder,” she says in awe, looking sideways at him, “What are we doing here?”

He shrugs. “I just wanted to see them.”

“At night?”

“Daylight’s for tourists, Scully.”

———

They’re sitting on the damp grass, endeavoring to split the last egg roll using only their dueling pairs of chopsticks.

“This is impossible, Scully. I’m going to use my hands.”

“Then I definitely don’t want the other half,” she says.

“Are you implying something about my hygiene?”

“I’ve seen some of the places your hands have been, Mulder.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Not what I meant,” she says softly. “But the point still stands.”

Mulder lays back on the lawn, his long coat fanning wide. Scully pulls an edge of it towards her, scoots closer so she can rest her pantyhose-clad calves on it instead of the grass.

“I’ve always preferred the blossoms at night,” he says. “There’s something ghostly about them, all pink and white against the dark sky. Not an ominous kind of ghostly, however; if good spirits exist, I think they’d look like these trees. You know most early European religions feature some sort of reverence for trees or forests, whether as spiritual gathering places or deities themselves-“

“Mulder.”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to eat that egg roll, or can I have it?”

He passes her the carton. “And-”

“Why did you bring me here, Mulder?”

He glances at her and is surprised to see a tenderness in her eyes. His gaze returns to the branches above.

“I just figured I owe you a nice trip to a forest, and this one won’t require any paperwork.”

Scully smiles. “That’s a very considerate choice, Mulder, especially since I’m always the one doing said paperwork.”

“You’re more succinct and readable than I am, apparently. And Skinner clearly likes you better.”

“Didn’t you punch him in the face once?”

“That’s beside the point. I think he has a bit of a crush on you, Scully.”

She rolls her eyes. “What?” Mulder asks.

“I just… it’s nothing, It’s been a long day. And it’s cold out here.”

Mulder sits up and withdraws his arms from the sleeves of his overcoat.

“No- Mulder, don’t, I’m fine.”

“Move your legs,” he instructs, pulling the edge of the coat out from under her. He stands and drapes it around her shoulders before plopping back down on the grass next to her.

“Thanks,” she says. “Still, it’s getting late.”

He glances at his watch. “It’s seven-thirty on a Thursday. You got somewhere to be?” His arm bumps her shoulder companionably. “Come on, just a little longer. Maybe we’ll see something unidentified in the sky.”

He grins at her and the corner of her mouth twitches in reply. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice,” she sighs. “You drove us here.”

He feels a slight increase of pressure against his arm and realizes that Scully is ever so slightly leaning into him. A gentle warmth glows in his belly, and he glances sidelong at her.

I’m a lucky son of a bitch, he thinks.

“How so?” Scully asks.

Oh. He said it out loud. He clears his throat, tries to steer his thoughts back into safer waters.

“Well, for one thing, I’m not dead,” he says. “Not for lack of trying.”

Scully nods solemnly.

“I’ve seen incredible things, things people spend their whole lives looking for, hoping for, believing in. I’ve tasted proof, held the truth in my hands. And in spite of everything, I’m still here. We’re still here. That’s pretty goddamn lucky.”

“I don’t feel very lucky,” Scully says softly. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve fucked up every good thing I’ve ever had a chance at. My father certainly thought so, at least for a long time.”

They sit silently for a moment. “Without you, I’d be long dead,” Mulder admits.

“I know,” Scully replies. “I’m always awed by your resilience, actually. I can’t take all the credit for your continued survival.”

“Yeah, you can,” he says, getting to his feet and dusting stray blades of grass off his slacks. He holds out a hand and helps her to her feet. Her fingers are cool against his palm, and he wonders if she’d notice if he didn’t let go. Probably.

He wants to pull her in by the lapels of his coat, gather her to his chest, hold her for no reason other than he can. Kiss her brow, smell her hair, feel her small hands sliding under his suit jacket. He wants her just as she is, for exactly who she is.

But he’s a chickenshit, so instead he just walks beside her along the Tidal Basin, under the cherry blossoms, and doesn’t hold her hand.

They spend the five minute drive back to the Bureau in comfortable silence. Scully leans her head against the car window, and Mulder briefly wonders if she’ll fall asleep. He loves when she nods off while he’s driving; it makes him feel safe. She makes him feel safe.

He parks a few spots away from her car in the Bureau parking garage, turns off the engine. Scully gathers up her briefcase, leaving Mulder’s coat draped open on the passenger seat.

“Why are you getting out?” she asks, seeing Mulder unbuckling his seatbelt.

“I need a file from the office,” he lies. He exits the car and goes around to her side. “I’ll walk you to your door, it’s on my way.”

It’s twenty feet from her car to his. “Thank you, Mulder,” Scully says sardonically, fishing her keys out of her coat pocket. “If I weren’t armed, that would have been very thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies. He takes a step forward.

“What are you doing?” Scully asks, one hand on her car door, keys in the other.

“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” God, she’s so small, this could so easily go wrong-

He pitches forward, bending down, and presses his lips to the fullness of her cheek. His nose brushes the soft skin under her eye and he inhales sharply, drawing back.

They blink at each other. “Bye,” Mulder offers.

Scully nods. “Yes. Goodnight.” She glances to the elevators. “Was there actually a file you needed?”

He just looks at her, and she presses her lips together in understanding. “Right. Well, I’m leaving, so… see you tomorrow then.”

Right. Despite recent events, the earth was still spinning.

Later, when he hangs his overcoat, he notices the faintest scent of her shampoo on the collar.

#awwwwwwwww they're so awkward and dumb #impersonal #my fic #txf fic #xfiles #msr #slow burn #also pls listen to 'Agape' by Nicolas Britell while reading this chapter it's the Vibe

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boredoverlord · 3 years

Text

Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient.

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW: Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly

Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately. It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here. Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.”

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

“Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action, that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

“He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom.

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded.

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.

You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye,

“Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered.

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric.

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…”

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat.

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece : the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring, sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower.

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