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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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mppmaraudergirl · 2 years

Note

500 words-ish for the commentary meme

“Wait,” he says, and it is only at this moment—hearing his voice speak directly to her—that she realizes the tension in her own shoulders, the dryness of her mouth. “I—I need to talk to you first.”

She stands in front of him expectantly. He faces her now, but something is off. Though he is staring at her, his eyes are misfocused almost as if he is looking at her but not seeing her.

“Okay...” she says, hoping it does not sound as nervous to him and it does to her own ears. He has never looked at her like this before, never so despondent and regretful—even in past years before they were friends.

“Look… I don’t think we should do… this… anymore.”

“Do what?” her mouth answers.

“Go out.”

She blinks. Her brain doesn’t seem to be interpreting his words correctly. “Sorry, what?”

He is still looking through her, but his voice comes out stronger this time. “It’s not going to work, this thing between us. We shouldn’t date. I’ve… I’ve changed my mind about things.”

“Why? Because—because of those arseholes?”

His eyes come into focus for the briefest moment and then he looks past her toward the exit. Her breath comes out in gasps like her lungs and mouth have forgotten how to work in synchronicity.

“I’m sorry. We can still be friends.”

“I don’t want to be friends with you,” she says. The words come out in a strangled whisper; the moisture welling up in her makes her feel like she is drowning. “I love you, James—”

“You shouldn’t—” his expression flashes and then he looks toward the exit again “—you shouldn’t say that.”

“I can’t believe you. I can’t b-believe you.” She furiously wipes the moisture from below her eyes. “You made me fall in love with you, and then the s-second—the second it gets hard, you lea-ve.”

He is staring at her now, as though he can’t look away; his mouth bobs open and closed like a fish. She swallows down a cry. “I never thought you a coward,” she forces out; her lungs are constricted, she feels like a deflating balloon. “It’s one thing if you’ve changed your mind—but this, this is different. And you won’t even tell me the truth. Just say that you don’t want to date a Mudblood—”

“Don’t. Don’t say that word—”

“Why shouldn’t I? That’s what this is all about. You Pure-bloods and your obsession about my parents—”

“It’s not—I don’t care that you’re Muggle-born.” He stops himself from going onward. “It’s nothing to do with—I’ve just changed my mind.”

She remembers the past weekend when he nicked food from the kitchens and they had a picnic on the Quidditch pitch under the warm early October sun. She remembers two weeks back when they snuck up to the Astronomy Tower after curfew to stargaze, her back braced against his front, his arms surrounding her. She remembers their first kiss—and then she can’t bear to remember more.

“F-fuck you,” she says, before tearing through the library, bag swinging dangerously off her shoulder.

Wet hazel eyes watch as she goes.

Gosh what even to say about this? The intro chapter to We Can Still Be Friends has got to be one of my best. Between this and TRN I'm not sure which I find more compelling to prompt me to press that next chapter button.

I believe you were the one who sent this angsty prompt, although I can't begin to remember how this idea popped into my head beyond clearly recalling that I wanted to flip the script and have James do the breaking up.

I do remember taking liberties with the prompt which was: "I love you." "You shouldn't." To make it fit what I needed for this to work. ("You shouldn't say that"). In general I really like how I wrote James in this scene. It's not his POV but I feel like he's so mechanical here and you know he's breaking his own heart in the process (like the absolute idiot he is).

Gosh I just love this story. 🥰

#we can still be friends

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rinstars · 3 years

Text

OATH.

PAIRING: Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Angst.

WC: 1.3k+

TAGS/WARNINGS: Hurt/Comfort (or maybe not). Suggestive themes. Profanity. Cursing. Slight use of petnames.

SYNOPSIS: Suna Rintarou never break a promise. Especially not to you.

NOTE: A famous Filipino song came on shuffle and prompted the birth of this fic. Can you guess which one? HINT: It's a pretty old famous love song lmfaooo. Also again, I didn't proofread, deal with it hehe. REBLOGS are appreciated <3

LASTLY, PLEASE HELP ME DECIDE ON WHAT TO WRITE BY ANSWERING THIS FORM HEHE THANK U SO MUCH!!

He sent you a text message fifteen minutes ago. Nothing but a few simple words that somehow weighs you down every single time—like an anchor tied to your ankles and tossed to the ocean. Something that leaves you gasping for air. But you enjoy the cool breeze anyways.

I'm coming over.

Promises meant a lot to Suna. Even if the words weren't outwardly said, he treats the phrase like an unspoken promise between both of you. He always comes when he tells you he will. A little late, a little early, but never not. And you wait for him. Over and over—in the raging storms, the summer breeze, the winter cold. At the break of dawn, the setting sun, beneath the midnight moon.

Because it was your side of the promise.

I'll be here.

The knocks on your door grow heavier each time. The longer you take to open the door the more you feel the constricting pain choking the life out of you. You drag your feet to the wooden entrance, fingers never getting used to the way the cold steel of the knob makes you want to cry. The ray of light that peeks from the small opening of the door blinds you—God, does it blind you, yet you open it wider. Welcoming the burn as he hastily pushes the door open.

You wish you were able to hide the flinch when he wrapped an arm around your wrist, pulling you closer to him as he buries a pale face down your neck. He probably didn't notice the shake from your body—seeing as he was shaking just as bad. The wetness on his shoulders going unnoticed as his own tears stain yours.

With a small tug, you are beneath him. On the other side of his endless praises, his sweet, sweet words. He kisses you like he's drowning as much as you and you let him. His fingers were no longer shaking when he pulls your underwear down, or at least tries to.

"Rin," you breathe out, pushing against his chest to get him off of you. "Will you talk to me first?"

He looks in your eye, unblinking, unmoving—and you could've sworn you were able to glimpse at the internal debate going on inside his mind. He hovers over you for a few more minutes before completely sitting straight with a sigh, nodding to himself as he offers a hand to you.

You take it, and you hold tight, and if you were given the gift to do what you wanted, Heaven knows you wouldn't have let go.

He notices, and he knows it. He has known for the longest time. Knows how this affects you—how you feel, how you hurt. So, he smiles at you and lets you hold on for as long as today's conversation permits.

"I just, fuck-- I don't know what to do." He swallows thickly, like he's holding back the tears from spilling. "I swear—shit do I fucking swear, that I try, I really try, yeah?"

"I know, Rin," you squeeze his hands a little tighter, thumb running over his knuckles as a poor attempt in comforting. "But sometimes, things just don't work out the way we want it to. You know that."

His eyes look over to you, the gentle smile on your face laced with something he would rather not think about too much. He thinks you're right—you're always right. He couldn't remember a time when you were wrong.

"Then," he crawls over to you slowly, fingers trailing a path from your temples to your jaw before settling there and tugging your bottom lip—a silent request from his breaking heart.

Closing your eyes, you released a shaky breath before slowly opening them and continuing with your constant reject. "Then let's stop doing this. I just—you know this isn't right, Rin."

It's almost like something clicked in him the moment you said that. The fog in his eyes clearing as the hand holding your jaw drops to his side. You ignore the pain building up your chest, the sensation almost numbing, as you wait for him to agree. He will, you thought. He always listens to you.

"Yeah, yeah," He almost chuckles humorlessly, throwing his head back on the couch. "Bet she really wouldn't take me back if she found out I run over to you again, right?"

Turning your head to the side, you hope you blinked the tears fast enough for him to not see. Of course, it's her. It has always been her. He never really calls you when he's not going through another rough patch with his girlfriend, never meets up unless he wants to find solace between your legs, never really smiles at you that often

"Rin, we—" you bite your lip to prevent it from shaking, tightening your hold on his fingers to hide the tremble. "We need to stop doing this. She loves you, and—God, do I know how much you love her."

He smiles at nothing, like a fond memory is replaying in his head, the next few syllables breaking you more than you think it should. "Yeah, I do."

This time, you decide to finally show your tears, enough pretending as you prepare yourself for what's about to come. "S-suna, I really—you see, I loved being with you. I adore you and you're probably someone I'd never be able to forget ever, you know?"

He turns his body as he faces you, the hairs falling on his forehead too irresistible for you to not fix. He eyes you with a mix of confusion and recognition—like he knows where this is going but needs you to say it for him.

"Me too, princess."

"I've been meaning to say goodbye a few months ago," you sniffed, looking down on your lap as you lose all the strength to stare back at the eyes you've grown to love. "But I thought maybe I'll let another winter pass. I know how much you break in this weather."

He laughs with you at that—the humor lost in the sea of regret and pain, eyes glossing over but he didn't understand why. Maybe you meant a lot more to him that he cares to admit. And he isn't sure what to do with it, doesn't recognize it clear enough to come up with a course of action.

"I love you, Rin."

Snapping him out of his thoughts, you could notice the faint flinch on his fingers. Hearing you choke up the words like this, vulnerable and broken in front of him, almost made him want to be irrational again. How do you break someone who's done nothing but mend you?

He has known for the longest time. The suspicion always lingering on the back of his head and yet hearing you say it doesn't compare to the amount of times he's run the scenario up his head, finding the right way to respond.

"I know."

"And it's hurting me so, so bad." The cracks in your voice almost mirroring the ones in your heart, hand flying up to your face like you wanted nothing more than to hide. The pain, the tears, the love.

"I know, princess." He repeats, hands tugging yours so you can hide your face on his neck, sobbing onto him the way he's always done with you. He keeps your head there—partly because he knows showing his own tears will just make this harder. "You take care, yeah? Love someone who really deserves it next time."

"I'm not—I w-won't be here next time, Rin. Sorry for breaking my promise."

"In the next life, princess," He kisses your temple, threading long fingers through your hair, a shaky voice accompanying his next words. "I'll come over to you."

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #suna x reader #suna x you #suna smut #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou angst #suna rintaro angst #suna rintaro x reader

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marvelmusing · 3 years

Text

HYDRA Hunter

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Part 1

You worked at SHIELD for your entire life, inspired by the likes of Peggy Carter and Captain America, wanting to do the right thing and protect people.

You worked hard, rising up through the ranks. Becoming a Colonel. Spending your time ensuring that you could help people.

Then SHIELD falls, along with HYDRA. And you find out that the organisation you’ve dedicated your life work to was not what you thought it was.

You spend the years after the fall of SHIELD finding old HYDRA bases and employees and ensuring they’re brought to justice.

This has caused you to bump into the Avengers quite often. Steve Rogers often asks for your help with intel.

You earn the quite the reputation as you track down a large number of old HYDRA operatives.

You’re soon known as the HYDRA Hunter. A name you aren’t too happy with but it seems to have stuck with you.

One day Steve asks you to help him and Sam with their search for Steve’s friend, Bucky Barnes. The former Winter Soldier. You agree to help them.

Although, now that you’re occupied by your search for Bucky you don’t notice there’s another person hunting HYDRA’s people.

You don’t notice when Vasily Karpov, the Winter Soldier’s handler, is found dead.

You don’t notice that a certain red notebook has been stolen.

Then Vienna happens.

And the entire world has joined in with your search for Bucky Barnes.

And that grainy photograph is plastered across every newspaper, news show, social media site. It’s everywhere.

You can’t it out of your head. That the ghost of HYDRA could be so obviously spotted like that.

So you go back to your research. Noting down as many HYDRA names as you can find. Then you spot one. Vasily Karpov. And his obituary.

You read the police report. That he was hung by his ankles over his sink and drowned.

Someone else was after the Winter Soldier.

Your discovery is too late though. Steve, Sam, and Bucky are missing by the time you’re in Berlin.

Then Tony sends you some files. The reported death of the UN psychologist sent to assess Bucky. And the identity of the man who impersonated him. The man who found the Winter Soldier.

Baron Colonel Helmut Zemo.

If you weren’t so frustrated that you missed this you would have been impressed with his work.

In the aftermath of the Avengers splitting up you’re busy trying to stay under the government’s radar.

Then Thanos happens, and you’re dusted away. Only to return five years later.

After the final battle you stay in touch with Sam and Bucky, you’d helped Sam out during the years he was on the run.

So when he gives you a call after Bucky’s arrest you offer to help with the Flag Smashers.

Then Bucky suggests visiting Zemo.

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets.” Bucky reasons. Sam immediately gestures to you. You nod, agreeing with him.

“I’m literally right here, Buck.” He sighs.

“Do you have any idea where the serum’s coming from?” He’s got you there.

“Not entirely. After a couple of days of digging I might find something?”

The three of you exchange looks. You don’t have a couple of days to spare for a maybe.

“Okay. Let’s go see Zemo.” Sam says.

Then you’re in a maximum security prison in Berlin. Bucky went in to see Zemo alone, which puts you on edge.

You know the trigger words don’t work anymore. You’re not afraid of the Winter Soldier. You’re afraid that Zemo will manipulate Bucky into doing something he doesn’t want to do.

Bucky seems fine when he returns. You and Sam follow him as he leads you to a large warehouse.

“Where are we, man?” Sam asks. Bucky doesn’t answer, instead walking you through a ‘hypothetical’ jailbreak scenario.

You’re beginning to doubt how hypothetical this situation is.

Then Zemo steps into the room.

“What did you do?” Sam stares at Bucky. Though it’s pretty obvious what Bucky’s done.

“We need him Sam.” Bucky reasons.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam demands, pointing at Zemo.

“If I may?” Zemo begins.

“NO!” Sam and Bucky yell at him. You hear Zemo mumble an apology as Sam turns to you,

“[Y/N]?” He prompts, hoping you’ll back him up. You sigh a little, considering your options,

“HYDRA was never able to successfully recreate the super soldier serum, excluding Bucky. That’s why they had to steal Howard Stark’s test serum for the Winter Soldier program. Whatever lead he has, it’s better than anything I’ve got.” Sam sighs,

“You don’t make a move, without our permission.” He warns Zemo. Zemo nods,

“Fair.” He then turns his attention to you, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Zemo’s eyes are fixed on yours as he inclines his head.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]. You must be Baron Zemo.”

“Baron?” You hear Sam question from behind you. You keep your eyes on Zemo.

“Or do you prefer Colonel? Some people value their military achievements over inherited titles.” You’re letting know you’ve done your research.

“Just Zemo will suffice.” You nod. Sam turns to him,

“Alright Zemo, where do we start?” Zemo heads to one side of the room, turning on the power. The lights flicker on, revealing a large collection of cars. “So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam jokes.

“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations.” He opens the trunk of one of the cars. You glance inside, noticing the array of weaponry stored. “I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum, because once it’s out there,” he bends to reach inside another car. “Someone can create an army of people, like the Avengers.” He gives Sam a pointed look. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished.” Sam turns to you,

“So you two haven’t met?” You look away from him. Even after all these years, you’re still a little unsettled by how good Zemo was. That you never saw him coming. Zemo frowns,

“Should I know you?” You shake your head,

“Sam’s joking.” You dismiss.

“Sounds like he was doing your job for you.” Sam adds. You sigh before explaining to Zemo.

“I’ve been tracking down HYDRA personnel for the last few years. So Sam’s surprised we’ve never crossed paths.” Zemo nods, considering your explanation.

“Are you surprised?” You tilt your head at him. “That we never crossed paths?” Yes, absolutely. It still annoys you to this day. You shrug casually,

“The world’s a big place. It’s not too surprising.” Zemo looks at you, not buying how casual you are. He thankfully changes the subject,

“To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of low lives.”

“Well join the party, we’ve already started.” Sam tells him. Zemo heads off, his stride determined, as he calls back to the three of you,

“First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence, I still have a line on. From there we climb.” The three of you follow Zemo as he heads towards the exit.

He asks for a moment to change his clothes. Bucky paces outside the bathroom as Zemo changes.

When he emerges he’s dressed in a turtleneck, with dress trousers and shoes. He pulls a long coat with a fur collar onto his shoulders. You notice he’s also fresh faced, he must have shaved.

There’s a small walk to a local airfield where a large jet is waiting.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam gestures to the jet.

“Like [Y/N] said, I’m a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country.” You wince at the thought of Sokovia. What happened there is one of your biggest regrets.

There’s an old man stood at the stairs into the jet. Zemo greets him in Sokovian, kissing each of his cheeks affectionately. He welcomes the three of you and you reply with a polite,

“Thank you, sir,” in Sokovian. Zemo glances at you for a moment, no doubt surprised that you speak Sokovian.

The four of you get comfortable on the plane. You’re sat opposite Zemo, with Bucky next to you.

The atmosphere is rather tense, particularly after Zemo stole Bucky’s notebook, causing Bucky to threaten Zemo.

Then Zemo tells you where you’re going.

Madripoor. That’s just great.

As the plane gets close to Madripoor, Zemo suggests that the three of you should change your clothes. He explains each of your roles. You roll your eyes when he tells you that you’d be playing the part of his lover.

You head to the room at the back of the plane with you bag in hand. The outfit Zemo’s bough you is lying on the bed.

You close the door and get changed into your tact gear. People in Madripoor know you, they know there’s no change of you dating a Baron. You push open the door as you finish getting changed. You’re busy securing your weapons when you hear Zemo approach,

“Is my selection not to your liking?” he asks. You look up at him. He doesn’t seem mad that you’re refusing his gift, just curious.

You glance down at the outfit. No doubt it was expensive, and it’s very tasteful.

“No offence intended, Baron. But if we’re going to Madripoor I’m going as myself, not as your arm candy.”

“You couldn’t be both?” He asks. You stop and look back up at him, he returns your gaze, his thoughts a mystery to you. Then Sam interrupts,

“Damn, you think you’ve over done that a little?” He asks you, gesturing to the array of knives along your belt, and the holsters across your thighs and calves. You laugh a little,

“Walking into Madripoor unarmed is pretty unconventional. You three will stick out without any noticeable weapons.”

“You’re forgetting, we have one of HYDRA’s most notable weapons.” Zemo nods his head towards the other end of the plane. No doubt referring to Bucky. You’re quick to press a knife to his throat,

“Refer to him as a weapon again, Baron, and I will ensure you regret allowing me on your plane.” You trail the knife along his jawline, watching it trace against his skin. “Understood?” His gaze doesn’t stray from your face, but he swallows hard and provides a minute nod.

“Of course, Colonel.” You tilt your head aside. He knows more than he lets on. You pull away from him, feeling suddenly aware of how close the two of you are.

Bucky leans his head though the doorway,

“We’re landing.”

A/N: This is a lot longer than I thought it was going to be so there’s going to be a few more parts to this.

If you’d like to be tagged for this series just let me know!!

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #tfatws #tv: fatws #fatws #zemo x you #zemo headcanons #zemo x y/n #zemo fanfic #zemo imagine

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lyrical-panic · 3 years

Note

Hello! So here's my request:

The 1-A girls including reader are having a girls night in one of their dorms playing Minecraft (teaching Momo how to play for the first time), giving out study tips, eating snacks and watching movies, etc... When their in a topic about their crushes and reader shyly tells them it is Tenya Iida... While the girls are shocked and ask a lot of questions why iida much to reader whos not really liking the questions, the girls decided to help reader out by setting both iida and reader on a date by grabbing readers phone and texting iida, much to readers protest and what the girls don't know is that the boys are having a boy night at the common room too and doing the exact same thing, helping iida out to finally ask reader on a date.

so yeah, haha that's all and you can add your own ideas there and can this be a oneshot? I also want to see the perspective of iida if that't possible? I hope this is okay? thank you!! ☺

Took a few liberties, included some personal touches, I’m really happy with how this came out and I hope you are too!

Risks

Masterlist

Weekend nights in Heights Alliance were arguably the best.

Mr. Aizawa was more flexible about curfew on Friday and Saturday nights, so the class took those nights as opportunities to have slumber parties and late night get-togethers.

This was one such night. You, Ochaco, Tsu, Momo, Toru and Kyoka had gone to Mina’s dorm room with snacks and games in hand. Your hostess had offered up her wide selection of video games and her Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ accounts. Toru had even come through with an impressive assortment of face masks, nail polish, and hair accessories. Needless to say, everyone was more than set for a night of careless fun.

“Wait, how do I craft something?” Mom held her controller out to Kyoka, brows pinched together.

“This button, here,” she took the controller, demonstrating by crafting an axe.

Upon realization that Momo had next to no knowledge of Minecraft, the party had abandoned its Super Smash Bros. tournament in favor of showing her the ropes. You’d vowed to help her make a simple house by the end of the night.

“Pro tip: make sure you collect all the same type of wood.” You suggested, eyes focused on the white stripes you were attempting to paint onto Tsuyu’s light green nails with some success.

“Yeah, unless it’s on purpose, like if you use a different wood for the roof or floor, it’s just gonna look like you hobbled it together in less than a minute.” Mina agreed, before promptly shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Ochaco gasped playfully, swiping the bowl away. “Don’t eat all of it!”

“I’ll eat whatever I damn well please!” Mina retorted, making a grab for the snack as Ochaco floated it over to Toru.

“Okay guys, I can’t take it anymore.” The invisible girl grabbed the bowl out of the air. “We’re all together, hanging out with zero stress for the first time in months! Does anyone have anything juicy to share? Someone’s gotta have something!”

Kyoka rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t come to gossip.”

“This class is a pretty tight-knit group, ribbit. Nothing really happens that we don’t all know about.” Tsu pointed out.

“Okay then. Crushes.” Mina prompted.

“What about them?” Momo asked.

“Who’s got ‘em?”

There was a moment of silence. You noticed how a few pairs of eyes flicked to Ochaco, who had gonna very red and very quiet. You sighed, musing to yourself about the things you did for friendship.

“I, uh, I kinda like Iida?”

You hated how you phrased it like a question. You hated how you mitigated the confession with the word “kinda”. You hated that silly, totally inadequate word “like”. Your feelings for Iida went beyond a simple crush. You’d had them for him for months now, you were long past the “like” phase. You were head-over-heels in love.

Toru gasped dramatically. “Really? Iida?”

Ochaco smiled at you, gratitude evident in her eyes. “You two would make a sweet couple.”

“What do you like about him?” Mina asked excitedly. “When did you fall for him? Are you gonna confess?”

“Take it easy,” Kyoka chuckled lightly.

You also laughed, albeit uneasily. You were beginning to regret not keeping your mouth shut. “Okay, I’ll take those one at a time. He’s kind and attentive, and he’s very loyal. I think I realized that I liked him a few weeks after the sports fest, and absolutely not.”

“Why don’t you want to tell him?” Momo asked, pursing her lips. “I think he’d appreciate the honesty.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t wanna make things weird between us or potentially ruin our friendship.” You explained “I don’t wanna jeopardize what we have now by confessing.”

“Plus, Iida doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s want to date someone, ribbit.” Tsu put in, examining her newly painted nails. “He’s very serious. He’d probably see it as a distraction, these are really pretty, (Y/N), thank you.”

You smiled weakly at your frog-like friend as Toru threw a piece of popcorn at her head. “Tsu!”

“No, she’s right.” You sighed heavily, motioning for the popcorn bowl, intending to drown your sorrows and maybe yourself in it.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Momo patted your back sympathetically as she passed the bowl down. “I can’t imagine how frustrating it is.”

You hummed in agreement as you shoveled the snack into your mouth. “Whatever. It sucks, bur I’ll get over it.”

“Like hell you will!” Mina snapped “Ochaco: our romantically challenged friend’s phone, if you please?”

Ochaco dutifully and bemusedly took your phone from Mina’s bedside table and handed it over to her.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, suddenly on high alert.

You were ignored. Mina instead took your hand, and placed your thumb over the home button on your phone, unlocking it.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Kyoka asked.

“Texting Iida.”

It took you a few seconds to process her words and what they meant. Once you had, though, you made a sudden grab for the phone. “Oh no you’re not!”

“Chillax, I’m not gonna send him anything embarrassing.” Mina swatted your hand away as she scooted safely out of your reach. “I’m just gonna suggest that you two go out sometime and heavily imply that it’ll be a date.”

“Now hold on,” Momo cut in, setting down her controller. “We shouldn’t be interfering. This is between (Y/N) and Iida.”

“Yeah, if (Y/N) wants to ask him out, they’ll do it themselves, ribbit.” Tsu chimed in.

Mina sighed, slumping. “I know you’re both right, but I can’t just let them wallow! Iida really likes you, (Y/N)!”

“Oh yeah?” You raised both eyebrows.

“Yeah! He’s a lot softer with you then with anyone else!”

“He does tend to let you get away with things,” Kyoka admitted. “Remember the other day when you were sitting on your desk? The guy didn’t even bat an eye.”

“He also seems like he talks to you more than he does the rest of us!” Toru pointed out.

“Plus he worries about you more than the rest of us!” Ochaco added on.

“He looks more relaxed around you.” Tsuyu threw in.

“Sometimes when we have class representative meetings, he’ll offhandedly mention you.” Momo reported thoughtfully. “He’ll tell me about something you said or did that he found funny or endearing. It’s actually pretty adorable the way he talks about you. It’s like his whole face lights up.”

You were quiet for a very long moment. It was too good to be true. You liked playing it safe. You kept your cards close to your chest until you were absolutely sure you had the wining hand. And if you’d learnt anything in your hero education, it was that sometimes you needed to take a risk.

“Can I have my phone, please?”

Mina tossed it to you. Without another word, you navigated to your messages, and typed something out quickly. Before you could reconsider, you took a risk.

You hit send.

. . .

This isn’t actually all that bad.

When Kirishima and Kaminari had suggested a “boys’ night”, Tenya had been apprehensive at best. He was all for class bonding activities, but what was the point if it was only a fraction of their group?

“(L/N) and the girls are having a sleepover, so we may as well something ourselves.” Sero had pointed out.

Despite his skepticism, Tenya found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. After admitting he’d never seen a Marvel movie, Midoriya had immediately logged the common room TV into his Disney+ account and began the first ever 1-A Marvel movie marathon.

“Ugh, does this mean we have to watch Age of Ultron?” Ojiro groaned “That one sucks.”

“Yeah, but at some point I’m going to make Iida watch Wandavision.” Midoriya replied “Ultron is important to understanding it, sucky as it may be.”

“That’s not gonna be for a while if we’re watching every single Marvel movie, though.” Sato chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need more than one night for this shit,” Kaminari chortled “Wandavision not withstanding.”

Tenya smiled, not quite following but listening all the same. He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

(L/N): Random question. Want to go out and get dinner tomorrow, just the two of us?

It was indeed a random question. He had no qualms about spending time with (L/N) though. Even if it was just the two us them. Especially if it’s just the two of us. Tenya quickly shook the thought away though, feeling he’s cheeks flare.

Me: That would be great! Do you have a time and place in mind?

(L/N): Would 6 be ok? As for the place… would you be up for a surprise?

Tenya hesitated. Usually he’s say no. He liked everything to be perfectly planed to a T. But something about (L/N) made him want to be spontaneous. They made him want to take risks. So he decided to do precisely that. He threw caution into the wind as he sent his response.

Me: 6 is more than ok, and I’m always up for a surprise if it’s with you.

Tenya cringed immediately after hitting send. The instant regret was crushing and depressing. He wished he could be honest about his feelings, about (L/N) without overthinking every move he made.

Oh well. What’s done is done. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, praying you wouldn’t respond. However, his plea went ignored a minute later when he felt his phone vibrate yet again.

Biting back a groan, Tenya opened his texts, inwardly bracing himself.

(L/N): Awesome! I’ll meet you at 6 in the common room tomorrow, then. Can’t wait! ❤️

He gaped. That tiny red emoji wormed not his brain and burned itself behind his eyes until that was all he could see. He barely even registered the rest of the message.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Iida?” Kaminari, never one to understand personal space, leaned over to glance at the class rep’s phone phone before he could angle it away. “You sly little- IIDA HAS A DATE!”

“No I- that’s not- Kaminari!” Tenya sputtered incoherently, arms flailing. “That was entirely inappropriate. You shouldn’t look at other people’s devices without their permission. It’s rude, demeaning, and an invasion of privacy!”

“Forget that, what’s this about a date?” Sero leaned in on Kaminari’s other side.

“Iida and (L/N) were texting,” Kaminari announced “They asked him out to dinner, he said yes, and they send a heart emoji.”

“What color?” Aoyama demanded, squinting.

“Red.”

“Oh my,” Aoyama leaned back in his seat, a coy smirk playing across his lips.

Sero chuckled, leaning across Kaminari’s lap to pat Tenya on the arm. “You lucky bastard.”

The blue haired boy brushed his hand away, bristling. “Not that my personal activities are any of your concern, but it’s not a date. We’re just going to get something to eat.”

“I’m not an expert or anything, but I don’t think many people go out one-on-one for dinner if it’s platonic.” Midoriya pointed out.

“Yeah, plus, that emoji says a lot.” Kirishima added “(L/N) clearly means this to be a date. If you don’t feel the same way about them, you need to tell them.”

“You don’t want to go on a date with (L/N)?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow “I would’ve thought you’d be happy for an opportunity like that.”

“See! Even Todoroki can see you’ve got it bad for them!” Sato exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the confused heterochromic boy.

Tenya ignored his overly-excited classmates. He flipped back through his conversation with (L/N), staring at every text until he’d inadvertently memorized them all.

Me: Is this a date?

. . .

“So much for subtly, I guess.” Kyoka remarked.

“Subtly gets you nowhere with Iida!” Ochaco insisted “You have to be upfront with him!”

“But I sent him a heart,” You groaned for the fourth time.

“Well, there’s no sense in bemoaning it now.” Momo reasoned.

“It was a calculated risk.” Toru admitted, an undercut of worry in her voice.

“A risk, huh?” You chuckled humorlessly “I seem to be taking a lot of those tonight.”

Ding!

Seven pairs of eyes darted to your overturned phone at the same moment. No one moved an inch.

“Well,” Tsu nudged you “are you going to look at it?”

You gulped, shakily taking the device. The girl’s gathered around you. As you opened your text messages.

Iida: Is this a date?

“No backing down now!” Ochaco squealed, gripping your shoulders tightly and shaking you.

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Mina bounced on her knees like it was a sporting event.

You took a deep breath, then texted back.

. . .

(L/N): That was the idea, lol. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, tho

Tenya pursed his lips, showing the response to Midoriya.

“C’mon, Iida.” His friend chuckled lightly “Just tell them the truth.”

The truth. He did want it to be a date, but a simple “I want to go on a date with you” didn’t seem sufficient. It wouldn’t do justice to how he really felt.

Tenya had already taken a risk tonight, so what was one more? But knowing what he now knew about your feelings, it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

Me: I’d love nothing more than to go on a date with you, (L/N). Truth be told, I’ve wanted to for a while now, I just haven’t had the courage to ask you myself. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. ❤️

#mha #bnha #iida #tenya #tenya iida #iida x reader #tenya x reader #tenya iida x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Note

Prompts no 25, 27, 31 angst and non happy ending because I'm a little sad

The affair

Dialogue prompt 31- I want you to list every lie you ever told me.. then I'll forgive you | I hope whoever you are, you're doing better now. My apologies for bringing it out pretty late.

TW- ANGST | Harry loved him, only till fire burned.

Prompt 25 | prompt 27

It could have been love.

Or perhaps it was love until the arson had lasted and the land got buried in the ashes. Maybe it was love, until the fire remained burning, and the air had stated vanishing and soon it died.

He always knew he thought love was a transaction, to get something back in return for what you deposit in, he never believed in it but was Draco swooned. He let himself take the fall hoping that maybe harry would save him. He knew what he was getting into but too fooled was he to believe that love changes people, he held onto the false hope. He assumed, he believed in himself that maybe, just maybe after everything Harry had been through, after everything he fought for, maybe he'd like to not face change anymore. That maybe after everything, he deserved to be loved and deserve to love. That maybe he too felt that there was none who understood him better than Draco like he did, only he should've known.

But once learnt the hard way, draco didn't know how many loses more could he take. Maybe he felt as though he owed it to harry, that perhaps harry was his last shot at love, no matter what happened. Even with the ever consuming lies building up in the relationship that had been going on for 3 years. But Draco would lie to himself if he said he was happy anymore. He used to be, but he hadn't felt the little comfort in the physical affection or more than a chaste kiss in the past few months and he was afraid. Afraid that his inner voice was right.

" I think he's cheating on me " Draco numbly spoke to pansy as he drank his cold coffee

" oh hone-"

" I knew it " Draco interjected.

Pansy gave him a pity look but oh she knew too. She knew he was cheating. The lies Harry had fed only worked a little.

" how do you know ?" Pansy asked, holding a little of Draco's hand in a comforting touch over the table.

" he told me he'd be at the office yesterday. I went to drop him something but he wasn't there. He had left hours ago " Draco replied blankly stating at pansy drawing circles on the upper side of his hand

" but you can't be sure " pansy sighed.

Draco hummed, deciding to not further talk about it.

Perhaps days went by, Draco had stopped counting, he has stopped looking at the calender when their anniversary passed as a forgotten date. Perhaps weeks since Harry tried to come home and cuddle with Draco. And maybe month too when they last went on a date.

Why was Draco doing this to himself? Fear.

He watched as the light, the spark, the fire diminish in Harry's eyes for Draco but a new one was born each day he left for work, like he had something to look forward to. He felt it in Harry's soft light chaste touches that they weren't a secret, private anymore, they were of Someone else too. He even smelled the perfume of another one on Harry's shirt. Yet he rested in fear, fear he'd never be loved again. Because even if everything, harry still was his boyfriend, by tag but he was.. it was all in the labels. But He didn't even come to Draco's work party.

" why don't you leave him ?" Blaise had asked. Draco only shrugged, yawning.

" do you even sleep anymore?" Blaise tried asking again. Draco shrugged once again. He had lost count of hours he slept too.

But alone in the night, sitting on a bed in loneliness even with the body next to him, he cried relentlessly in silent sobs. He would bite his palm to keep the muffles inside as he'd stare at the man he'd once loved, become Lost. He missed the harry who'd kiss him before sleeping or who'd whisper good night or the one's who dragged draco to shower with him or the harry who'd visit between works to take him out for lunch.. he missed the harry that was only his own and not shared as a public property.

________________________

He sat alone on the table of a family dinner as his father for first In a while looked at Draco in pity sitting next to an empty chair, reserved for his love who never showed up.

" we should start. He must be stuck with something " Draco Whispered.

Narcissa hesitantly nodded, helping serve the dinner and the family ate in low Whispers and soft chews.

And then perhaps as if an old friend has knocked his door, Draco was met with the young boy who loved Harry in his rivalry,who stood for what was right, for what wasn't just to him, one who believed that if love existed he'd never settle for less. Slamming the door shut, Draco instead of disapparating, stumbled back home with one bottle of whiskey he couldn't even drink because of the drowning heart that yearned sobriety.

" where were you ?" Harry has asked sitting on the sofa, watching TV at midnight when draco had stumbled back home.

But draco didn't respond, placed the bottle on the counter top, only little drunk, unknown tears smeared across his face.

" I asked you a question Draco, where were you ?" Harry sternly asked as he turned around to watch Draco

" are you fucking drunk ?' harry was perhaps disgusted but it only made Draco laugh. A mock.

" do you ask your other boy that too ?"

" what- what other boy ?" But harry was a bad liar.

Draco sniffed in as he walked forwards, collapsed on the couch next to Harry's and stared blankly out of the window, tears immediately blurring his vision.

" it was my parents anniversary today? Do you remember ? I told you a day before yesterday to be there, even sent a memo ? Did you receive ?" Draco asked, his legs shaking.

" oh- see I kept thinking I was forgetting something. I'm so sorry babe-"

" don't-call-me-that" Draco sneered

" what is the matter with you ?" Harry asked thoroughly offended

But Draco only exhaled a shaky breath, his hands contributing to the shakiness and he finally landed his eyes upon the man he had lost.

" was I not enough ?" His voice broke as he asked, staring into Harry's lost face

" what are you even on about-"

" your affair harry. Your bloody affair " Draco raised his voice so as to be stern, confident that be wasn't lying.

" what ? I don't have any affair. I'm offended that you even think that Draco. After everything we've been through-"

"bullshit " Draco snapped

" you think I can't see it Harry ? I can sense it across an entire room if you're there or not, don't you think I wouldn't know that the man I loved is not just Mine anymore ?"

" you're being ridiculous " harry rolled his eyes.

Draco gave Harry a weak smile before he went on " do you remember the last time you told me you loved me ?"

Harry frowned as he thought upon until the realisation hit " i- I didn't realize -"

" I don't blame you " Draco shook his head " I can't even if I Want to. Perhaps I am infact not enough.. perhaps I've failed to be who you wanted me to be. I don't blame you harry, I don't-"

" Draco, there's nothing going-"

" what's his name ?" Draco interjected

" there's no one "

" does he make you happy ?" Draco asked weakly

" Draco, there isn't-"

" does he kiss better than I do ?" Draco asked, his voice breaking.

Harry sighed " I'm not cheating Draco "

" then when did you fall out of love with me ?" Draco asked

Harry stared at Draco long enough to see the pain turning to mocking numbness " I never did "

" liar " Draco sneered as he looked away, not even bringing his hands up to wipe his tears.

" I love you Draco-"

" liar " Draco suddenly raised his voice " you're a pathetic liar " he sobbed

" all this time I tried to forgive you in my head but I only need to ask one thing, what did I do to deserve this ?" Draco sobbed

Harry's face filled with pity as he closed distance between them to wipe Draco's tears away but he jerked his hands away.

" I didn't mean for it to happen " harry finally said as he looked down at his feets, as though he was disgusted in himself.

Draco looked at harry attentively " how long ?"

" Draco-"

" how long harry ?" Draco asked sniffing

" 5 months " harry replied. It should not have been a blow, not have hurt this bad, because Draco already knew but he did. Tears rapidly burning his face as pathetic sobs left his lips and he looked away as if he couldn't bear to look at harry.

" it meant nothing to me Draco-"

" it doesn't matter " Draco interjected, heaving for a long breath

" no I mean it Draco, it didn't mean anything "

" if it didn't mean anything then why were you with him tonight instead of me ?"

But in hopes of trying to fix things, harry couldn't formulate an answer without hurting Draco.

" I really loved you harry, I still do and I hate myself for it but I will let you go "

" Draco Don't-"

" I have loved you enough but in hopes of trying to keep you close, I have made you runaway from me and that's no one's but my own fault. Perhaps I loved you too much or too little but neither of it was enough to make you stay " Draco cried in silent tears.

" don't say that Draco. Please. I still love you. I never stopped. I'll leave him for you. I only love you. It was a mistake Draco. I promise it won't happen again. I'm sorry Draco, please, please forgive me " harry begged

Draco offered Harry a little smile before he took Harry's hands in how own, locking their finger's together and kissing his knuckles.

" I Want you to list every lie you ever told. Then maybe I'll forgive you "

And in that sweetness Draco left Harry more broken than he had ever felt. Filled with regret he had never felt. Pain he had long forgotten. Misery and sorrow he had said good-bye too. But it was in his sweetness harry had loved him and it was in his sweetness he had lost him. That night when Draco went away, with no response, he never came back again and harry was left alone.

It could have been love, or perhaps it was, only until the night was young and the sun had not risen.

Till the mortal fire had burnt.

It's basically midnight thoughts.

300 followers appreciation dialogue prompt requests open.

( ps. I reached 400 tho )

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pinkfadespirit · 3 years

Note

Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second for any of the DA2 crew?

Thank you for sending this, it was SO fun to write. I started this a few weeks ago and then @laniardraws sent me the same prompt last week (thank you too!) and I finally decided to come back and finish it tonight. Lani also specified Handers but that’s what I’d already decided to go with.

I’ve deviated a little from the prompt and decided to go with ‘help my ex just showed up at this bar, please be my fake boyfriend for a second’ with a side helping of ‘Sebastian dumped me for Andraste’ - which, okay, I’m sorry about that. I swear I’m not trying to pick on Sebastian. I’m just having a bit of fun XD

For @dadrunkwriting

Hawke takes a deep breath. He regrets it fairly soon afterwards, given that he’s currently locked inside a cubicle in The Hanged Man toilets. He’s not entirely sure why, of all the places he could have picked to hide, this was where he’d ended up. But then, he hadn't quite been thinking straight when he'd decided to run. He was on his way to the bar when he'd noticed Sebastian and his preservation instincts had kicked in. It occurs to him that his preservation instincts are a bit shit actually.

It feels safe to say that the Maker has a particularly cruel sense of humour, at least as far at Hawke is concerned. His first night out since he'd calmed down from his initial attempt to either drown his post-break-up sorrows, or distract himself from them by having maybe a little too much fun and here's Sebastian to ruin it. Not intentionally, Hawke assumes, but does that really matter in the outcome is the same?

Has Sebastian been coming here all this time? Has Hawke lost The Hanged Man in the break-up without even realising it? It doesn’t seem fair; The Hanged Man had been his first. Sebastian had never set foot there before Hawke introduced him to the place. Now he's out there in the bar and Hawke’s hiding out in a bloody toilet cubicle with the scent of stale piss and cheap toilet cleaner permeating the air.

He wonders if he's always been this pathetic. What he needs to do is go out there and pretend he has every right to be there. No. Wait. Why would he have to pretend? He does have every right to be there. More than Sebastian. Well... Not really, but given that he's currently been reduced to hiding like this he thinks he can afford a moment to be petty. But once he's done with that he can go back to being a grown man, more than mature enough to handle bumping into an ex for the first time since they broke up seven months ago.

Seven months. That’s a reasonable amount of time to get over someone, right? Is he over Sebastian? He’d thought so. But seeing him again is bringing up old feelings—more of betrayal than of anything overly romantic, though, so that’s something at least. Honestly, he'd felt fine for several months before this. He’d felt more than ready to move on. And what he'd really love right now is to show Sebastian just how much better off he is without him. That’ll show him.

First things first, Hawke needs to actually leave the cubicle he’s been hiding in. Baby steps, he thinks. He takes a breath, regrets it again, then slides the lock open on the cubicle door.

The next step is probably just to get rather more drunk than he is now, which will have the double effect of making him look like he's having a lot more fun, while making the entire situation just that little bit more bearable. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to do anything stupid. He doesn’t know why Aveline is looking at him like that from where she sits across the room, as he heads towards the bar. Hawke's a big man, after all. He can handle his booze.

Thankfully, there seems to be no sign of Sebastian at the moment. There's a second floor to the pub so perhaps he found a table up there. Perhaps he left. But no, Hawke’s not sure he's ever been quite that lucky.

There's a queue at the bar, as there often is on a Friday night. Hawke takes his place at the back of it and tries to avoid glancing furtively about like he might be caught at any moment. Instead he focuses ahead. The lanky blond he’d noticed on the way in is ahead of him in the queue. Hawke can’t see his face but he recognises the ponytail and the gold hoop that hangs from one ear. He distracts himself from panicking about Sebastian by entertaining a brief fantasy about being the kind of person who could approach someone attractive at a bar and actually manage to be charming enough to get a phone number. Wouldn’t that be a nice way to put an end to the wallowing? A date is probably exactly what he needs really. He hasn’t had one in years. But that’s not a thought that inspires confidence in him. He puts it from his mind.

The queue moves forward and eventually Hawke finds himself standing at the bar besides the handsome blond stranger, who is even more handsome up close, now that Hawke can turn his head and attempt to glance surreptitiously at him. Apparently, Hawke doesn’t do surreptitious. The man beside him catches him looking and smiles at him. It’s a good smile, one that shows in his eyes, which are such a pretty shade of amber, Hawke gets lost for a moment just looking in them. And then the word, “Hi,” is out of his mouth before he can stop to think whether a smile at a bar counts as an invitation to start talking to someone he’s never met before.

“Hi,” the man replies and then, if Hawke’s not mistaken, he gives him a once over, lingering for a moment on the biceps that show under his short sleeves. He doesn’t quite have time to process that before the man adds, “I'm Anders.”

“Hawke,” Hawke replies, wondering if he’d been wrong before and he’s actually a lot luckier than he’d thought. Then he hears the distinctive sound of a Starkhaven accent from somewhere behind him and thinks, actually, maybe not.

“I think I've just had one of my worst ideas to date,” Hawke tells Anders. “And I’ve had a lot of really bad ideas.”

Anders raises an eyebrow at that. “Alright... This doesn’t sound like any line I’ve had before. Hit me with it.”

Hawke takes a breath. “I need you to be my fake boyfriend for a minute.”

Anders just stares at him for a moment. Then he laughs.

“There’s a drink in it for you,” Hawke says as Norah finally turns to them with an expectant look from over the bar.

“Oh. You’re serious,” says Anders, looking rather more baffled now.

“Anything you want. On me,” Hawke insists.

Anders takes a moment to consider while Norah looks between them impatiently. “Alright then.” Then he just asks for a pint, which is decent of him really, given that he could easily have taken advantage of the ‘anything’ offer.

“Who are we trying to make jealous?” Anders asks as Norah grabs two pint glasses and begins to fill them.

“It’s not like that!” says Hawke. “Alright it’s a little bit like that. My ex just showed up and I know this doesn’t actually make me any less pathetic than I feel but he doesn’t need to know that.” Anders just smirks at him. And Hawke decides he’s not been quite embarrassing enough for one night so he adds, “He dumped me for Andraste.”

“Huh,” says Anders. “Well, can you really blame him? You must have seen the statues; she was quite a looker.”

Hawke stares at him, halfway through pulling a tenner out of his wallet. “I’m pretty sure that’s blasphemy,” he says. “...You’re perfect.”

Anders flashes his teeth in a grin that is, quite frankly, dazzling. Hawke uses the time it takes to pay for their drinks to reflect on what a huge fucking idiot he is. Then he reflects on it some more when they weave their way through the queue that has formed behind them and he sees Sebastian standing back across the room from him and realises he hasn’t thought this plan through at all beyond the ‘acquire fake boyfriend’ stage. Never mind that he knows nothing about Anders beside his name and his potentially concerning interest in statues of Andraste. And everything Anders knows about him Hawke would rather not think about any more than he has to.

“My name’s Garrett, but everyone calls me Hawke,” he begins quickly, not panicking at all (why would he be panicking?) “Everyone being those people over in that corner there. I’m twenty-seven and I have two siblings and a dog named Parsley and –oh shit he’s seen us. What do we do?”

He looks desperately at Anders, whose expression is apparently torn between a confused sort of amusement at Hawke’s hurried biography and a general sense of ‘fuck if I know. This was supposed to be your idea’.

When all Hawke can do is send him a helpless look in return, Anders rolls his eyes. Then he takes the drink Hawke is holding and places it along with his own on the table next to where they are standing. “Is he looking this way?” Anders asks.

“Yes. Fuck. He’s heading over here.”

“Hawke, look at me for a minute,” says Anders and Hawke looks. Anders is standing in front of him with his hand placed on his shoulders. “Just relax,” he instructs and at first he thinks there's a fat chance of that happening but then he looks into Anders’ warm, amber coloured eyes and there is something quite soothing about the sight of them.

And then Anders kisses him.

Anders’ hands glide over shoulders and up to tangle in Hawke’s hair and beard. Hawke’s hands just sort of flop uselessly at his side for a moment while he struggles with the fact that, yes, this is really happening. He takes that moment then reaches up to wrap his arms around Anders’ waist and pull him close. Their lips part and, admittedly, there probably is a bit too much tongue involved for the middle of the room in The Hanged Man (right in front of Sebastian) but Hawke isn’t sure if he cares about that right now. It’s a bloody good kiss. The kind that leaves them both breathless as they finally pull away from each other, chests heaving and eyes wild.

Hawke’s still sort of dazed when he looks up and realises that Sebastian is still there staring at them in stunned surprise. “Oh. Hi Sebastian,” he says.

“Hawke,” Sebastian replies. “I can see you’re busy. I’ll, er, catch up with you another time.”

Then he turns and quickly heads back to where he’d been standing earlier.

Hawke looks back at Anders, who picks up his drink and winks at him before taking a sip. “I’m thinking about changing my terms for this arrangement.”

Hawke blinks at him. “Your terms?”

“I’d say that was worth more than a drink, wouldn’t you? Dinner, at least.”

“Dinner?” Hawke repeats. “You mean... like a date?”

Things are rapidly reconsidering his earlier assessment of this evening. Perhaps he really is luckier than he thought.

“You catch on quick, Hawke,” says Anders with a smirk.

“I could do that,” says Hawke. “I mean, I’d love to.”

Anders’ face breaks out in another dazzling grin and Hawke thinks that there’s no ‘perhaps’ about it; he’s as lucky as they come.

#m!handers #anders x hawke #dadrunkwriting #anders #garrett hawke

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downondilaudid · 4 years

Text

Taboo Nightmare

Reader has an amazing one night stand with a stranger from a bar, only to regret her decision days later when she walks into class and realizes he’s her new professor.

LOOK AT ME, FINALLY posting. I am finally motivated.

Requested: No

Prompts: None

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: BASICALLY JUST SMUT, Penetrative Sex, Fingering, Degradation, Light Humiliation, Light Impact Play.

“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.”

― Emery Allen

Your body felt warm with the alcohol coursing through your system. The bright club lights shimmered on your black sequin bodycon dress. The euphoria you were experiencing almost felt superficial, it was addicting.

Sweaty bodies mangled on the dance floor, you being one of them, grinding your hips against one of your close friends. To say you had dragged her to the club would be an understatement, she had practically kicked and screamed the whole way here. But now here you were, both relaxed and having the time of your lives.

From across the club, your eyes met with a man’s, his figure tall and dressed in a fitted blazer. He definitely didn’t look like he should be at a club. His features were almost unrecognizable in the low light, but his gaze was strong, strong enough to force you to look away. You turned to your friend, “I’m going to get another drink.” She nodded in understanding.

At first, you actually were headed to get a drink, standing near the bar, waiting to flag down the bartender, who seemed to be frantically running around to collect orders and mix drinks. The club was definitely understaffed tonight.

A presence could be felt beside you, and a flicker of hope rooted in the pit of your stomach, maybe you wouldn’t be going home alone tonight. You turned your head slightly, peering over at the man, and apparently, he had the same idea. You cleared your throat, wishing you could’ve guzzled more alcohol before the encounter. Too late now, “This doesn’t look like your scene” you pointed out, your voice raised to overpower the music.

The light hit his face, and all the breath in your body vanished, everything about him was perfect. You tried to memorize the way he looked before the light left his face. “It’s not” he responded, his voice was smooth yet punctuated. Just by the way he held himself you could tell he was an intelligent individual.

You couldn’t help the girlish giggle his words drew out of you, “then what are you doing here? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“I’m here with a friend.” He answered, before saying another sentence. Unfortunately for him, it was drowned out by the music, fortunately for you, it gave you the perfect opportunity to get him alone.

Your friend was long forgotten as soon as the words left your mouth, “It’s really hard to hear in here, do you want to step outside?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder, pointing to the door in case he couldn’t hear you.

He retreated a bit, almost surprised at your bold question. For a moment you thought you had made a mistake, only for his head to nod as he brushed past you, making his way to the exit. Quickly you followed after him, the sudden change in his mood making your head spin. Yet, you were still determined to regain the higher ground, you were the predator, he was the prey, even if he didn’t know it.

The cool night air brought you back to earth, your feet halting just in time to keep yourself from running right into the man’s back. At that point, you realized you still didn’t know his name, and here you were, outside, practically alone with him, despite the few wandering pedestrians.

He turned back around to face you, his face visible now, and dear god was it a sight. His eyes were a deep hazel, and you were sure every woman on the planet was envious of his perfectly plump pink lips. He was definitely older than you, probably by quite a few years, but that never bothered you “Spencer.”

Confusion dawned your face, your eyes widening with realization, that was his name. “Y/N” you introduced, right now the two of you were neutral, but you craved the higher ground. You wanted your name to tumble from his lips, and his large hands to wrap in your hair. His eyes scanned your body slowly, lingering on your exposed legs.

You raised your fingers, snapping to get his attention, “my eyes are up here” you teased. Spencer’s head snapped up to meet your eyes, a flustered look on his face. The sound of your laughter filled the cool night air, “it’s okay, I don't mind you staring at me.” You took a step closer to him, watching as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. “I’ve been staring at you all night.” He didn’t retreat from you, and you took it as a sign to let your hands run lightly up his chest. A burning desire ignited in your stomach as he flinched at your touch.

“A-are you sure about this? You’re a lot younger than me.” He stumbled over his words, his body subconsciously leaning into your touch.

“I like my men older.” Your hands drifted south, fingertips dipping into the hem of his slacks. Spencer’s hands shot out, wrapping around your wrists, yanking them away from his body. With a quick tug, he had you pulled flush against him, his warm breath fanning over your ear.

With every slightly ragged breath he took, his chest rubbed against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, this was the exact reason you always went for older men. Guys your age were so boring, and inexperienced. But, this man would take his time with you, he would let his primal urges take over, he would absolutely break you. And that’s exactly what you wanted, and you knew every card to play to get what you wanted.

“You think you’re so cute? Acting like you’re the one in charge? I’m not even sure you could handle me.” Every perfectly punctuated syllable he spoke sent shockwaves to your core.

An inhale of the cold night air stuck in your throat, a sharp contrast to the warm body pressed up against you. “Funny” you began, yanking your wrists free from his grip, “I think you’re the one that can’t handle me.” It was exhilarating to see Spencer’s eyes darken with desire, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. His hands found a vice grip on your arms, pulling you from your dazed state. Whether it was the alcohol or lust that was clouding your mind, you didn’t know.

“I’m giving you one last chance to turn around, and pretend like this never happened.” If you weren’t so ready for this man to fuck you, you would say his statement was almost thoughtful. But, that was not you, some strange fate had brought the two of you together, and who would you be to pass up an opportunity like that?

There was no stopping the smile that wormed its way onto your face. You steadied yourself by latching your hands onto his forearms, now happy that you had worn heels. Your eyes locked on his, greedily enjoying the sight of his perfectly sculpted face as you spoke “not a chance in hell.” Just like that you were being roughly pulled to the parking lot of the club, and into the car of a stranger. You were very much aware that this man could be a serial killer for all you know, but who doesn’t make stupid decisions in college? The answer is girls without daddy issues.

The car ride was short, almost as if you had teleported to your destination. Which you assumed was Spencer’s apartment. His large hand had remained on your exposed thigh throughout the whole ride, his thumb rubbing teasing circles.

The second Spencer flicked on the light, and you closed the dark mahogany door, he was on you like a feral animal. His hands danced viciously up and down the curves of your body, his mouth moving in sync with yours. Your hands met his shoulder, fervently working to tear off his blazer. With every passing second, the heat coursing through your body became too much to bear. You just wanted to feel his smooth, warm skin against yours.

Air-filled your lungs as soon as you pulled away, the both of you panting for breath. His hands retreated from your body, beginning to unbutton his dress shirt. Taking the initiative, you reached for the zipper on the side of the dress, pulling it down slowly.

Spencer’s dark eyes scanned you like a hawk, seemingly memorizing your every move. The shimmering dress slipped from your shoulders, gliding over your hips with, surprisingly, little resistance. You could feel your nipples harden as the cool air kissed your skin, as the dress hadn’t required you to wear a bra. The fabric pooled at your feet, discarded as you stepped out of the circle of fabric.

A low grumble emitted from Spencer’s throat, he was clearly enjoying the show you were putting on for him. “See something you like?” You questioned, your voice seductively sweet.

“Definitely” he replied, his voice low and trickled with lust.

The two of you shared the same idea as you simultaneously took a step forward, closing the space. His mouth met yours in a frenzied kiss, the proximity causing your breasts to rub softly against his chest. Spencer trailed sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking softly here and there. A content sigh left your mouth, and your hands trailed up to tug on the hair at the nape of his neck.

Each kiss placed to your neck hit you straight in your core. It was times like these where you felt lucky to have daddy issues.

Spencer pulled back, his hands leaving your body to work on unbuckling his belt. You looked up, your eyes meeting his as he finished unbuckling the belt.

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, so far, Spencer’s actions hadn’t matched his words. Nothing he had done was rough or teasing. Luckily, you knew exactly how to push him. “You know, you’re all bark and no bite.” You pulled the belt from his pants, letting it clatter to the floor.

His arms crossed defensively over his chest, perfectly accentuating his biceps. “Really, you think so?” His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed as if mocking you.

Here we go. “Mhm,” you hummed. You spun on your heel, leaning down to pick up your discarded dress. “If you’re not going to fuck me like you said you would, I’m going to leave. You’re just wasting my time.”

You rose back up just in time to see Spencer rush forward, his hands meeting your shoulders. With a shove your back hit the wall, a huff escaping your lips from the impact. Before you could blink his large hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly on the sides. His grip allowed him to angle your head up, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

His hair fell in his face, just above his eyebrows. Even with the yellow lighting of his apartment, he looked gorgeous. “You want to know what I think?” He paused, his other hand leaving your shoulder to run his thumb over your bottom lip. “I think…” he paused again, shoving his thumb into your mouth.

Now we’re talking, this is exactly what you had wanted. Your lips wrapped around his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. “I think you’re a young naive girl, with unresolved daddy issues, who’s desperate for attention from any male she can pull.”

His words should’ve made you run for the hills. You should’ve grabbed your dress and left. But he was right, his words didn’t hurt, in fact, they had the opposite effect. Arousal flooded your core as you rubbed your thighs together to relieve some tension.

“Enlighten me, am I right?” He pulled his thumb from your mouth, wiping the excess spit on your chin. You nodded, you felt like you were addicted to his every move, every intake of breath. His hand around your neck tightened, shocking you back to reality. “Am I right?” He growled, his voice slightly more punctuated than usual.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” your voice cracked as his hand that was in your mouth began a slow trail down your stomach, running along the hem of your panties. Spencer leaned forward, his mouth resting next to your ear. “How desperate are you?” He whispered, drawing a light whine from your lips.

Your hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, trying to pull his hand to your core. “Please,” his hand dipped into the waistband of your underwear, fingertips trailing lightly over your folds.

The hand around your neck loosened its grip, allowing more air to flow into your lungs. Still, you felt suffocated, the pure lust clouding your mind and body. “Not so confident now, hm?”

Usually, this is the time where you would push back and take control, and show them you’re more than a pretty face. But that's not what Spencer was looking for, he wanted to watch you beg for him. So you would play nice, and give him that, as long as he gave you what you wanted.

You bit down on your bottom lip, shaking your head coyly. Spencer mimicked your action, his teeth dragging along his bottom lip. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes! Just fu-” you huffed, restraining yourself from acting out. “Just do something, please?” It was a well-balanced mixture between begging and demanding. You were obviously desperate, but you pleaded politely.

As if your pleading wasn’t enough already, you allowed your lips to pull into a pout, your eyes rounder than usual as you stared up at Spencer. “Since you asked so nicely” he replied, his fingers finally finding solace at your core, rubbing slow circles against your bundle of nerves.

Every moment of buildup was absolutely worth it as his fingers played you like a fiddle. Your mouth fell open, a low moan escaping your lips. “Spencer, fuck!”

“Look at you,” Spencer spat, his fingers moving down to your entrance. “Making a mess all over my hand.” Two of his long fingers entered you, crooking slightly. Your hand fell from his wrist, nails coming up to scratch back down his chest.

“Harder, fuck!” This is exactly what you wanted, his hands on your body, in your body, ravishing you. He obliged your request, the obscene sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room. Porn-worthy moans left your lips as his fingers curled more, rubbing perfectly against your dimpled patch of skin.

Your back arched off the wall, and your chest heaved with pants. If you wanted to keep your submissive control you would have to control yourself. It was hard to do with Spencer’s perfect fingers buried in your cunt, his other hand wrapped tightly around your neck, varying in pressure.

You lapped up every ounce of pleasure Spencer gave you. The feeling was addicting, your head clouded and free of external worries, as your eyes fluttered shut, lost in bliss. Your hips ground onto his hand as your orgasm approached.

The hand dancing on your windpipe retreated, quickly grabbing onto the sides of your face, forcing your lips into a pout. Your eyes snapped open, met with Spencer’s dark ones. “Look at me while you cum” his fingers worked faster, his wrist angling with every thrust so his palm would rub deliciously against your clit. “A man you just met, who you blindly followed into a car. How ignorant can you be? I guess it makes sense, you’re just another whore desperate for the validation of a man.”

His taunting words sent you barreling into your orgasm, screaming out his name over and over again. Your thighs clamped onto his hand, entrapping it between your legs. Spencer’s hand released your face, allowing your head to fall forward to rest against his chest. His free hand wrapped around your body, viciously digging into your ass.

Once your thighs relaxed, Spencer pulled his hand from your cunt, quick to bring them up to your mouth. “Open.” Your jaw fell open, allowing him to push his digits into your mouth. Immediately you alternated between sucking them and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself.

But your time together was rudely interrupted by a ringing that buzzed through the air, and you began to look around for the source of the sound. Your eyelids grew overwhelmingly heavy, and the scene around you became distorted, the colors swirling together. Finally, your body succumbed to the tiredness, allowing your eyes to shut and the ringing to fade.

When your eyes opened you were no longer in Spencer’s apartment, but your own dorm. Shit. You had slept through your alarm, too busy dreaming about your most recent one night stand.

Leave it to you to fuck up first impressions. Which is why you were speed walking to class in a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You no doubt looked like you had just rolled out of bed, but I mean, you had.

Criminology honestly wasn’t something you needed to take, it was more for fun. It had piqued your interest. You had a hatred for all things school-related, and you thought, maybe if you took more interesting classes, you would be more motivated to do your schoolwork. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful, your parents graciously decided to pay for your college. School was just something that was always difficult for you, and if you couldn’t meet everyone’s standards, what was the point in trying?

Money had never really been a problem for you growing up, and you were known to have a “bratty streak.” But, you tried your hardest to be humble, you knew your family was very fortunate to live the lifestyle they do. Sometimes, though, it could get the best of you, it was your biggest flaw, but at least you were self-aware.

You had really wanted to make a good impression, despite being the stereotypical “rich bitch,” you wanted to show there was more to you than miniskirts and sports cars.

You pushed open the dark wooden door slowly, trying not to disturb the lecture. At least you wouldn’t miss much, just the first half of the syllabus.

The professor turned to you, watching as you ducked your head, practically running up the auditorium and to the first open seat you saw. You hoped he would have resumed his lecture by the time you had set your stuff down, and picked up the syllabus off the table, but you were unlucky. His eyes were glued to you, you could feel them, and for the first time you looked up to see him.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Your eyes widened, and your jaw practically dropped to the floor, he seemed to reflect your look of astonishment. His hands frozen mid-air as if he was talking but suddenly stopped. There was no way, absolutely no way. How, how was this possible? What are the odds, what are the odds that your professor was Spencer, your most recent one night stand?

He stuttered like a deer in the headlights, his hands falling awkwardly to his sides. A hand from across the room shot up, and he immediately took the escape. “U-uh, yes?”

Your mind was reeling, how the hell had you fucked up this bad? What are the odds that your incredible one night stand turned out to be your professor?

Awkward couldn't even begin to describe the situation, and by the way Spencer’s body language shifted, you could tell he felt the same. His hands which usually flailed wildly while he spoke, stayed still at his sides, and his eyes looked anywhere but you.

By the time class was over, you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat, ready to bound out of the auditorium and switch classes. There was no way you could confront him, how are you supposed to, ‘oh, hey Spencer, how’s life? Still making girls come like crazy on your cock?’ Yeah, that definitely wouldn’t work.

You had already stuffed your laptop into your Louis Vuitton bag, pulling it over your shoulder. Students filed out of the room, and you prayed to every higher power that you disappeared into the crowd.

“Miss Y/N” fuck, if it were any other time, that phrase would be hot. You kept walking, in fact, you quickened your pace, and kept your eyes trained on the ground. “Miss Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?” His voice was louder this time and dripped with authority. Out of all people in the club, you picked your future professor! But, unfortunately for Spencer, you were known to be very stubborn, so you continued your way to the door, your pace picking up speed. You were sure you looked insane rushing to the door, pushing through the crowd of students.

You looked up, body coming to a halt just in time to keep yourself from crashing into the back of a large man. You tried to say excuse me, and push past him, but he was like a giant brick wall, planted right in front of the door. There was no way for you to look around him and even see why he had stopped in the doorway like a fucking idiot.

A hand wrapped around your arm, grabbing your attention, and the sight was like something from a taboo nightmare. Spencer let go of your arm quickly, probably realizing how unprofessional it would look to the other students. “Stay behind for a moment, we need to talk.”

Snickers coursed around you, there was absolutely no way you were ever going to live this down. Hopefully, the other students thought he was apprehending you for being late, you couldn’t exactly explain how you unknowingly slept with your professor.

You followed Spencer back to his desk, standing politely to the side as the two of you awkwardly waited for the room to clear out. As soon as it did, your polite manner disappeared, and your hands met your hips as you shifted your weight onto one leg. “What the fuck?”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your language, his jaw falling open slightly. “You never told me you were a professor!” You exclaimed.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a defensive state taking over his body, “and you never told me you were a student!”

“I didn’t think it mattered! I’m twenty-four!!” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest with an eye roll.

Spencer turned, planting his hands on his desk, “ you’re also my student!”

You groaned, so far neither of you were solving the problem, “no shit, sherlock!”

Spencer’s head turned, sending you a sharp glare. You hated to say it but that would've been so hot if it weren’t for the fact he was your professor.

“Let’s just keep things professional.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “so just pretend it never happened?” It would be a hard task if he was going to dress in a suit like that every day. His tie was a deep maroon color, contrasting against his cream undershirt. His blazer fit his shoulders well, hugging his body perfectly, and all you wanted to do was tear it off.

“Yes, I’m not going to make you switch classes. Neither of us knew, it would be unfair for me to punish you.” Spencer stated, pulling himself back from the desk to face you.

You shifted slightly at the word punish, who the hell uses the word punish in a non-sexual context? Biting your lip, you tried your hardest to suppress a giggle, it was just so hard. A giggle escaped your mouth, your hand flying up to cover your mouth.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, visibly confused by your outburst. “T-there’s no way you just said the word ‘punish’ in a non-sexual context,” you said between giggles.

Just then a ringing sounded through the room, cutting off your laughter. Spencer glanced at his phone, picking it up quickly, obviously seeking escape from you.

You spun on your heel, taking it as your cue to leave. Right as you approached the door Spencer called out your name, halting you. “Please put on some more appropriate clothing before coming to class.”

A smirk tugged at your lips, deep down you knew this wasn’t over. Especially not after that line, and while walking out the door you made sure to sway your hips a little more than usual.

The next few criminology classes you attended, you behaved like a good little girl. But, slowly, your clothing dwindled, until you had walked into class in a plaid pleated skirt and a cropped tank, the perfect schoolgirl. Now, this wasn’t your only tactic, from what you gathered over the few classes you experienced, nothing peeved Spencer like false factoids. Which you made sure to quote, as long as the numbers were off by one or two points.

Usually, Spencer would have no problem correcting people, but it was different when you were correcting him. Today was like any other, you felt his eyes on you as soon as you walked in the door. Yet you refused to give him the time of day, innocently talking to your friend as you took your seats. You were clad in a skirt, and an old band shirt you had cropped. The outfit seemed perfectly normal for someone your age, unless you counted the fact that the shirt was short enough to expose the bottom half of your lace black bralette.

The lecture began like any other, and you absentmindedly listened for the perfect time to cut in. You had been interested in the class in the beginning, but as always, your focus shifted on Spencer. The way his large hands moved when he spoke, and how he dug his teeth into his bottom lip. You were sure half the people in the class were just there to admire Spencer, I mean, can you blame them? Have you seen the man? He’s the definition of perfection.

Your hand shot up in the air, the corners of your mouth upturned in a slight smirk. You could practically see the dread in Spencer's eyes, his shoulders drooping slightly. “Yes?”

“Can you repeat that one more time?” You questioned, pulling your laptop in front of your body, as if ready to type.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning you. “Oh, you don’t need to write it down.”

You looked up from your computer, feigning an innocent look as your head tilted slightly, “it sounded pretty important.”

He shoved his pockets, letting out a slight huff, “then maybe you should’ve paid more attention.” With that he continued his lecture, leaving you smirking to yourself. You were definitely getting under his skin.

You slid your computer into your bag, pulling it over your shoulder. For the first time, you initiated eye contact, turning to look at Spencer, only to find him glaring daggers at you. God, you were really in for it.

An innocent smile took over your face, deciding to push him just a bit further, you raised your hand giving him a teasing wave. If possible, his eyes got darker, and his arms crossed over his chest. His button-down was rolled up his arms, leaving his perfect veins on display.

His arms unfolded, one of his hands motioning you towards him. Who would you be to ignore him? You bounded down the stairs, anticipation winding in your stomach. You stopped at the bottom of the stairs, watching as the last group of students walked out of the door.

Your body shifted towards Spencer, “what's up?” You asked.

He scoffed, shaking his head in astonishment, “what do you want from me?”

A sickly sweet smile curled onto your face as you took a few steps closer to Spencer, like a lioness circling her prey. “I’m pretty sure you know what I want Dr. Reid.” With another couple slow steps forward you were within a foot of Spencer. “You’re a smart cookie.”

The corners of Spencer’s mouth twitched into a smirk, mimicking your own. His arm shot out, wrapping swiftly around your elbow, and with one sharp tug, you were chest to chest with Spencer.

His hot breath hit your ear with the new proximity, “correct me if I’m wrong. You want me to bend you over my desk, hike up your pathetic excuse of a skirt, and fuck you until you’re shaking around my cock?”

Someone needed to call the firefighters, because it was getting hot in there. Your mouth fell open in a delirious smile. “I don’t think I’m the only one here who wants that.” You ran a hand down his chest, continuing its trail till it stopped to rest over the slight bulge in his slacks.

Spencer let out a light groan at your touch, “you’re my student.” He protested.

“You’re not pushing me away, professor.”

At first, the only sign he gave you that you had won him over was his tongue poking out to wet his lips. But, quickly, using the hand on your elbow as leverage, he spun you around, shoving you face-first into his desk.

The impact caused you to let out a sharp yelp, your breasts squished harshly against the desk, the wood pressing hard into the top of your thighs. “How taboo, professor, fucking your bratty student over your desk.”

His hand tangled in the roots of your hair, pulling your head back slightly, so you were facing the auditorium. He leaned over you, his breath hitting your ear, and his now noticeable bulge rubbing against your ass. “You think I’m just going to fuck you? A pathetic whore like you doesn’t deserve my cock.”

His words pulled a giggle from your lips, quick to remind him, “well, you already have.”

You wanted to push him to the edge, you craved to feel the anger coursing through him as he pounded you into the desk. He let out a huff, the smooth skin of his hands brushing against your backside as he hiked up your skirt, exposing your ass. A laugh sounded through the air, and he hooked a finger in the lace fabric of your black thong, pulling lightly and letting it snap back against your skin. “Did you wear this just for me?”

“Would you want me to?” You could tell your snide comments were irking him, as his hands ran over your smooth skin, gripping harshly at your ass.

His hands left your skin, and the rustling of fabric could be heard behind you. “Open your mouth.” Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, still, you obeyed, letting your jaw fall open. Fabric filled your mouth as he pulled his tie around your head as a makeshift gag, working to knot the two ends behind you. A muffled protest left your mouth, and you attempted to push yourself from the desk.

But, Spencer had other plans, one of his palms fell to the small of your back, pushing you firmly back against the desk. “I’m tired of your backtalk, you’ll speak when spoken to. Understand?”

You nodded your head against the desk, but that wasn’t what he wanted, as he spoke again, “do you understand?” His voice was sharp and enunciated, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t around you.

“Yeth thir” you garbled through the tie, the pure humiliation of your distorted voice causing a flush to cover your cheeks.

Spencer hummed lightly, “what a pretty sound, almost as pretty as this one.” Once again you were left confused, the answer coming in the form of a swift smack as his hand collided with your ass. Your body lurched forward against the desk, a muffled scream leaving your mouth.

“Thank me, sweetheart. You’re lucky I’m even touching you.” Spencer growled out, before his hand came crashing down again against your backside. It was harsh and painful, yet you didn’t want him to stop. You were sure it must’ve hurt his hand, you know it would hurt yours.

“Thank you, thir.” The tie was warm in from your hot breath, and you could feel spit starting to trail out the corners of your mouth. Never in your life could the term hot mess be so accurate.

Spencer continued his assault on your ass, again and again, leaving your skin red hot and burning. Each time you thanked him, and each time your speech became more and more pathetic as you squirmed against the desk. The overwhelming desire getting the best of you.

His finger hooked in your underwear, this time pulling them to the side. His long digits parted your slick folds. “Maybe I will fuck you, not sure if I’ll let you cum though.” He thought aloud.

You whined at his words, stretching out against the desk to push your ass back towards him, longing for more friction. The action caused his fingers to run deliciously over your clit, eliciting a low moan from your mouth.

“Pleath, pleath fuck me.” It was crazy how quick he could break down your resolve, no longer fighting, but rather eagerly submitting to him.

His touch left your body, the glorious sound of clinking metal and rustling clothes following his retreat. “You’re lucky you’re such a pretty whore.” One of his hands met the side of your hip, the other reached up to grab a hold of your hair. The head of his cock pushed past your folds as he sheathed himself inside you.

The sounds and curses you released were muffled by the tie, Spencer pulled back almost completely, before slamming back into you. The feeling of his warm cock plunging in and out of you was incredible, and you were sure he felt the same, as he let out low moans behind you.

With each thrust his hips smacked against your sore ass, adding to the redness. The hand buried in your hair began to yank you back in time with his thrusts. “Is this what you wanted? For me to bury my cock in you? For me to punish you?”

You attempted to answer, but all that came out was a screech. His hand left your hair, letting the top half of your body collapse onto the desk. He used both hands to grab your hips, pulling you up as he thrusted, the new angle allowed him to brush against your g-spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw clenched, teeth baring down on the tie.

It was times like these that made you question whether or not you were a sex addict. Because the feeling of being filled was completely intoxicating, you never wanted it to end. “You know, you’re a very smart girl. Maybe if you thought with your head more, and not your cunt, you would do better in my class.”

Well, it was hard to pay any attention when your professor was Spencer fucking Reid. He laughed behind you, “but you can’t do that, can you? You’re so desperate for cock, that you purposely corrected me with false information so you could get a rise out of me.”

Your body had devolved to a moaning mess, and you squirmed unceremoniously against the desk. You could feel your orgasm threatening to overtake you from the telltale signs of your legs beginning to shake under you, and your hips rutting back against Spencer wildly.

“It worked, didn’t it? You got what you wanted? Because, now you’re here, cumming on my cock.”

Like magic, his words pulled your orgasm from your body. You sobbed into the tie, and your nails scratched against his desk. You barely registered Spencer pulling out behind you, groaning as ropes of his cum coated your ass.

Heavy breaths filled the room as the two of you came down from your orgasms. “You okay?” Spencer rasped. His hands came up to your head, fumbling with the knotted tie.

The tie slipped from your mouth, falling onto the desk. “Yeah,” your voice was equally as hoarse as his, if not more.

“Good,” he replied.

Your next class of Professor Reid’s you actually decided to pay attention and withhold your annoying commentary. Like always, the students began to file out when the class ended, yet you took your time. When the last student walked out you turned to Spencer, watching as his head tilted slightly. He was thinking, probably figuring out what you were trying to do. But, there was no need for that.

You walked to his desk, a genuine smile etched onto your face. “You up for lunch, Dr.Reid?”

His eyes narrowed at you, a light smile crossing his face, “just lunch?”

“Hmm… maybe more than lunch.” You giggled.

He turned picking up his satchel, and pulling it over his head, to rest across his body. “Only if you promise to be a good girl.” He said, taking a step towards you.

You pouted playfully at him, “I’m never good, doctor.” The statement caused the two of you to laugh, before you were off to a discreet lunch.

Tag list: @pinkdiamond1016 @gubler-squad @obsessed-with-spencerreid

#criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader

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moon-lixie · 3 years

Text

they say people never forget their first love, that what comes after is a search for something that feels close to the same, but what Changbin finds in the eyes of his second love is that he doesn’ t want to go through the same thing again.

word count: 1.672k

genre: Angst, mild fluff, Changbin x gn reader.

song: Out for the Night (Live) - The Marías

a/n: This is for The Seasonal Blues Event hosted by @houseofincantations

It works for the prompts:

"I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending"- Taylor Swift, Bon Iver, Exile

"I tell you with dry lips, Stay."- BTS, Stay

Please stay, don't leave me. Five words that had been spoken with dry lips and trembling hands, pushed off of his tongue with the weight of every dream and expectation that suddenly crashed and sent flying shards of crystal sinking into the tender flesh of his heart.

If someone had warned him the part of love that hurts the most was the downfall when you discover the sentiment that drove you to live lacking in your lover's heart, he would've spared himself from everything that meant love.

And that he did, depriving himself of warmth at night and tender affection once morning came; living in ways that made days merge into months and months turn to years he could no longer get back and live the way he was meant to before his heart got broken.

Nevertheless, the heart never listens, it doesn't heal when you want it to and it sure doesn't stop itself from falling when that's the last thing you want; Changbin had learnt both things the hard way.

Years had passed since he had been left alone in a half empty apartment, heart bleeding with every tear he never tried to hold back, and yet some pieces of his heart remained loose, rattling inside his ribcage everytime he moved as if set on stone in reminding him of his past pain.

Still, he was no longer the twenty one year old Changbin that had fallen hard at first sight, nor was he twenty four and thinking he would get down on one knee at any moment. A twenty eight years old man with sour and closed off exterior was what he was now, what he was when he thought of finding love for the second time, only to discover it swimming on your shining pupils.

The tale went close to the same many people reaching their thirties experience when it comes to finding someone to love, it involved a late day at work, a dimly lit bar, amicable chatter; nothing worth of remembrance except you.

It could all be resumed to exchanged phone numbers and an unspoken promise not to kiss each other right then and there because there was something about not feeling young and invincible anymore that drove everyone to be more cautious.

Turned out to be early brunches on free days and late nights watching movies, not yet going to each other’s places or doing more than holding hands when the world was too distracted to notice and mistake whatever you had for more than it was or could be.

Felt like drinking a cold glass of wine after a busy week at work, pleasant but mournful over every bit of sweetness that couldn’t be found in it because the life of an adult required more than apple juice to drown regrets.

Mistaken by a really close friendship meant to bring comfort and ever so rarely for a juvenile infatuation that made throwing caution out the window a need more than a desire; but he knew better than to fall in love quickly.

Knew better than to name things and make promises before the appropriate time, better than to only take into account the way the lack of loneliness made his heart beat steadily, better than committing to heart the image of your smile.

It was slow paced and sweet, like the kind of movie many wouldn’t be interested in watching; a total contrast to what first love had meant to him.

They say people never forget their first love, that what comes after is a search for something that feels close to the same, but whenever he looks into your eyes he can’t help thinking the last thing he wants is to go through it again.

Life as it is and how it’s painted on every downhearted story, pushes him to the thinnest part of the ice where he feels like every step he takes could be the last one and the months by your side could soon turn into simple memories.

One evening of tawny autumn is where it began, flashbacks of everything that he could’ve done wrong before but his last partner didn’t care enough to clarify for him settling into his chest like suffocating heat.

As usual it starts with doubts that make him toss and turn at night, questions that threaten to spill from his mouth but never do, glances that he fears could unveil the turmoil his heart had turned into once again.

And just like always it seems to have no end, not even when you kiss him softly like he is the most precious thing in the world nor when the scent of your shampoo finds its way to the spare pillow he rarely used but now finds himself coming back to.

It doesn’t get better because it starts hurting even more, pain seeping through his veins and rippling to every corner of his being when he thinks of how much he began to love you.

Thinks of promises he wants to make and commitments that scare him to death but he could find himself doing if it was for you, thinks of how he doesn’t want to let you go even on the days where he seems like he has just enough time to breathe.

Days in which he sends messages that only serve the purpose of cancelling plans and dragging him into deeper fear; days in which you say you don’t mind even if he’s late, that you understand that work comes first even if that’s one of the reasons why he had been left alone many years before.

Nights in which you take the words right out of his mouth and declare that you would rather just stay inside in order to fight the languidness the day brought to your being; even more so on the one night where you stand together outside in the cold city air.

Your eyes scan the list of screenings for the day, all old movies that won’t bring curious eyes around but rather people that seek to feel something familiar yet again.

With a conspicuous smile turning your face into spring despite the obvious winter unfurling around, you point at one of the movies and read the name out loud like a foreign language that you still have a hard time piecing together.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending,” he says and feels his heart constrict inside his chest, because that’s exactly what he feels sometimes when he looks at you and the never ending love that he has started harbouring inside his chest.

What you have looks scarily similar to first love, and yet it doesn’t, because what he can unmistakably read in your eyes is a second love that goes deeper than whatever either of you had felt before.

He carefully watches as you furrow your brows in deep thought before laughing softly and coming to a conclusion. “That says a lot then, you’re not particularly picky with movies.”

Of course you don’t watch the movie because you seem to trust his words more than he does sometimes, and he just wishes that you can trust him with your heart too in the future because he can’t help but feel concerned about his own that he long left in your palms.

You simply squeeze his hand out of habit and choose another title, one that brings him to smile and nod like he had no problems or regrets in the world and you drag him with you, your warmth enough to shield him from the snow that begins falling as soon as you enter the establishment.

Careful and still somewhat careless, he falls for you steadily everyday a little bit more until his chest feels like it might explode with everything that he hasn't been brave enough to externalise.

He tells you he loves you nights after, when the moon is full and the sky just right at the close promise of blooming flowers and bumbling bees.

It rolls off of his tongue with ease, the same way in which your fingers find their way to his before they intertwine and you say the same thing back to him.

The more time that passes after that day, the less rattling he can hear inside his chest, as if his heart had deemed it the proper time to set itself back in one piece.

But time can be as ruthless as it is sweet, mixing and turning into something indecipherable, smudging moments together and making the mind hazy.

One night as you're about to leave his side before the darkness of the night casts itself thicker, he holds your wrist in fear of you crossing the door and he almost doesn't know why.

He tells you with dry lips, “Stay,” feeling young and lost all over again, like he had to fear getting the same outcome out of something that had looked nothing like his first love except for the warming feeling that wrapped around his heart at the thought of someone else, someone else that could only now be you.

You looked back at him as if his words were honey and not fire burning his throat and heart to ashes; kissed him softly on the cheek and agreed without a moment of hesitation.

Hesitation that he no longer finds in his heart and so he speaks once more, reaching to show his bare soul to you. "Stay with me, for as long as time stretches in our favour."

There's a split second in which your face shows him the surprise he had once seen in his past lover's semblance, the surprise that came before he was left behind, but just like he expected in secret, contrary to how his first relationship went, you smile for him right after.

Smile for him, breathe, live and love for him just the way he does for you, heart never faltering; he can't help but think that the second time's the charm.

#hoi.sb #straykidsland #kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #skz changbin #stray kids chan #changbin fluff #changbin angst

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nerdy-emo-royal-dad · 4 years

Note

I dare you to write sad logan crying into stuffed animal but then stuffed animal hugs back and then he realizes it's either roman or remus-

HEY FOLKS! So yeah that took forever and I have four more prompts. Anon, I do apologize greatly for how long this took. Going to school in your country’s top university apparently means no time for anything else eyyy (I’m dying someone punch college in the face for me). Anyway aaaa I hope you still enjoy it even if took so long. Love y’all!

Feelings of the Mind, Thoughts of the Heart

Warning/s: None but feel free to inform me of you see one

Word Count: 1679 words

Pairing/s: Platonic/Romantic Logince (Logan x Roman) (totes up to you)

~~~

Logan would rather fade than admit that he was this close to breaking.

He didn’t mean the kind that made his face heat up or his nostrils flare while his taut knuckles shook at his side and his teeth clashed with each other. Though he might have just preferred that. Unfortunately when Logan said “breaking,” he meant it in a way that left an uncomfortable mini-hurricane wreaking havoc within his ribcage while he tried his hardest to contain it inside.

Logan’s entire frame shook from the effort it took to maintain his composure in front of his fellow sides; not that they were paying attention in the first place, anyway. He didn’t really quite understand why he was having such a reaction right now when this blatant disregard for him, this… this ignorance was something he encountered every single day.

And so he left.

He was willing to bet that no one even noticed him sinking out. If they did, They probably would have just chalked it off to his reputation for having such a short fuse. He could barely make out the room around him as he blindly made his way towards the bed; the tears welling up in his eyes doing nothing to help his vision. He never remembered the bed being that far from his door before, nor his floor being carpeted and soft enough that it silenced his footsteps, but that was the least of his concerns.

If he could scold himself, he would. He felt pathetic and weak and emotional and disgusting as he closed his eyes and released the contents of his tear ducts the second he came into contact with the unrealistic softness of the bed. Eyes still wrenched shut, Logan leaned forward, desperate to find any form of solace or comfort; or at the very least anything he could use to muffle his cries. He felt very much like the polar opposite of logic as his damp forehead finally came into contact with an unidentifiable something, his glasses pushing uncomfortably against the frame of his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

His vision stayed dark as he forced himself to take any semblance of logic he could. He clasped a hand over his mouth as he buried his face into the smooth, fragrant fabric of this… pillow? Curtain? Blanket? Sheet? Stuffed toy? He wasn’t exactly certain. All that mattered was that he was Logan. Logical, calculated, reserved, put-together, proper, objective Logan; and crying was not something the embodiment of logic should be doing. So he stayed there doing his best to muffle his cries, never daring to open his eyes. He hiccupped, gasped, and heaved in the lowest volume he could. He fisted his hands on the sheets below him and held his mouth as tight as he could.

Logan tried remembering methods of calming an individual down. They could point out all his errors, but he would never allow them to take his identity from him. He scoured the filing cabinets of his mind ‘till he found a suitable suggestion. Focus. He needed to focus. Logan zeroed in on the feeling of the cloth in his hand. He let it slide through his fingers as he crumpled it, allowing his fingertips to recognize the material -- satin. Wait… satin? His sheets weren’t satin. His sheets were cotton. The thin kind of cotton that felt cool against his skin, comfortable and not all at once.

He internally winced as a particularly loud sob pushed past his lips, and so he put his focus back on the softness he was leaning on. It simultaneously felt all too cold but oh, so warm. It smelled of flowers; of chrysanthemums and daffodils swaying along a gentle breeze. He took the hand on his mouth away and placed it on the material in front of him. He rubbed the cloth on his fingertips and identified it as...silk. But that… didn’t make sense. Not at all. As he brought up hypotheses in his head and sifted through possibilities, he felt a little pinprick of dread. He looked back on all the little pieces. The carpeted floor, the distance of the bed, the satin sheets and the silky material of--

All the thoughts died down like a flat-lining cardiogram when he felt a tentative hand rub against his back.

Logan dared to lift his forehead off the comfortable something to open his eyes, breath hitching in the process, and all he saw was red. There were many, many shades of red. There was maroon, rose, cherry, garnet, scarlet, currant, and a whole variety more that probably didn’t even have proper names. But Logan recognized the rich crimson of this red all too well; knew how the familiar color matched perfectly with the smoothness of the silk. He’d be an imbecile if he didn’t recognize Roman’s sash by now.

And maybe he already was, considering he made it this far without realizing he sank down into the wrong room. And maybe he was more than just an imbecile for forgetting that Roman had not been summoned for this session, and that’s why he wasn’t up there with the others at the moment. Maybe he was positively beyond an imbecile if he’d been cryi-- trying to stop himself from crying against Roman that entire time.

Logan shot up, consequentially bumping Roman’s hand away, his probably red eyes lookin at the prince’s own wide irises, creased forehead, and damp sash through fogged up spectacles.

“Roman! I-- I deeply apologize. I had not realized-- I should’ve checked first-- It was faulty of me to sink down into the wrong room I apologize greatly, I--”

His stream of words and possibly his airflow were cut off by the same hand coming to rest on Logan’s shoulder and Roman’s eyes looking back at him with such an indistinguishable amount of emotion locked up inside the hues of his iris.

“Logan, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Really.”

He… what? He didn’t mind what?

“I-- I don’t understand--”

Roman’s brows only furrowed further and the hand squeezed his shoulder just the slightest bit harder. “Logan. Let go.”

For a long stretch of time they simply sat facing each other, one cross-legged on the bed and the other with his knees folded in; waiting for… anything to happen. But nothing needed to happen because the sheer weight of Roman’s words digging into Logan’s chest and the warmth of his hand seeping through his black polo was enough to break cracks into the meticulously put up walls around his heart.

It started with a singular sob and a hand unconsciously flying to his mouth. When Roman gently took that hand off Logan’s lips and held it within his own, the walls crumbled down.

This cry was far from the soft, held-back sobs from minutes ago. This one was loud, messy, hoarse, pitiful, and ugly. Before he knew it, his eyes were back closed as he shuddered and snivelled before the fanciful side who was more than willing to take the logical side in his arms.

Roman scooted closer to Logan, allowing him to melt and break within the embrace, both uncaring for the mess it’ll leave on the prince’s clothes. He continued to run his hands in circles on Logan’s back, making every hicc and whimper heard. It terrified Logan, honestly; opening up to someone like this, making every vulnerability known and presenting his lowest points for all the world, or Roman in this case, to see. The terror was suffocating, the shame was unbearable, and the regret was overwhelming, but Logan couldn’t stop the tears even if he tried.

A long, soft, gentle shush came from Roman as one of his hands lightly set on the back of Logan’s head; his fingers absentmindedly playing with the strands. The shush soon turned into a low hum, and Logan found himself drowning in the waves of Roman’s voice. He recognized the tune, even as he bawled the eyes out of his muddy brain. It was a piece by Chopin-- Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2. The dynamics and the anatomy of the piece often took Logan’s breath away as it did, but something about the fact that it was Roman, Roman who always seemed to strike every chord and make anything sound infinitely more pleasing made the composition sound like an entirely different thing. It wasn’t perfect, no; as the human voice can never truly replicate the delicate sounds of the piano. But the lullaby-esque hum still resonated just as sweetly in Logan’s mind and sent ripples of comfort in his chest that spread to the rest of him.

And when the last sigh finally left Logan’s lungs, and he finally had the energy to lift his head back up to meet the prince’s eyes once more, he found he felt lighter than he ever did before. He thought maybe that’s what releasing approximately months or years worth of locked up sentiments within an hour did to an individual. Perhaps that hypothesis could be put on hold ‘till another opportunity.

Later that day they’d talk about that. They’d discuss the sheer ridiculousness of Logan stumbling into the wrong room, Logan mistaking Roman for a stuffed toy, and Roman letting all of it happen without complaint. They’d talk, share, and open up about insecurities, sensitivities, exhaustion, and frustration. They’d exchange “thank you’s,” “sorry’s,” but also laughter and banter. Later in the day they’d take a long, much-needed walk in the imagination while they poked fun at the other sides and named every creature they encountered and every flower they walked past by.

But for now they were here, in Roman’s room, with a tissue box being handed over by a Roman who had a hint of a genuine smile grazing his lips to a swollen-eyed Logan whose face was caked with dry tears.

For now, Logan was glad he stumbled into the wrong room. For now, Logan allowed himself to be a little less than who he was.

For now, Logan allowed himself not to think, but to feel.

~~~

Don’t forget to hit reblog!! HMU if ya wanna be added/removed from the tag list. Stay safe and hydrated folks!! Love y’all!! <3

Tag list:

@pixalysparkelz-blog @cinquefoilelove @randomslasher @ladynikita @thestoryofme13 @fandomsandanythingelse @asexual-trashbag @fandomsofrandom @moonlace @nyxwordsmith @freepaperie081 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @areyousirius-noheisdead @fandersides @sincerely-a-dork @lizziepopanime @emo-nightmare @justmeandmygayships @elizabutgayer @robinwritesshitposts @booklover223 @nadiestar @quackerz-creations @halfwaytoqueens @madly-handsome @im-a-creepy-cookie @anotheregofanficblog @wisherbysharlight @momalkav24 @merlinfreya27 @sweet-hibiscus-tea-art @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @bella-in-a-bag @apatheticlogic-internet @the-fetus-in-the-blender

#k writes #logince #roman x logan #asks #prompt fill #prompt fic #prompt request #one shot #angst #logan angst #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #crying

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bnhabadass · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Dabi x reader Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough sex, name calling, alcohol, angst Word Count: 4185 Prompt: Fuck against a door A/N: A big thank you to @honeytama for giving this piece a quick read through before posting.

Tags: @bakugoukatsukiswife

When You Joined the League of Villains everyone warned you about the same thing. Stay away from Dabi. It was simple enough advice which you took to heart at first, trying your hardest to leave the room when he would come in and only meeting him with a small smile and wave everytime he would greet you.

But you began to wonder why people warned you to stay away. Yes they gave their reasons, but everyone told you different things.

“He’s practically useless,” Shigaraki told you. “He never does his job correctly. He usually ends up incinerating people and just leaves their bodies lying around for the police to find. It’s like he’s leaving a trail right to the hideout.”

“He’s hot, don’t get me wrong,” Toga said, “but he’ll just break your heart and move on to his next victim.” It was clear as day that she wasn’t speaking from personal experience, rather out of suspicion or hearing the unfortunate crying of girls he’s dumped or kicked out in the middle of the night.

Twice had both good and bad things to say about Dabi. “He’s the best partner a guy could ever ask for. That jerk! He’s such an asshole!”

It was strange to you how different all of their responses were, and that difference only made you more curious about what kind of person Dabi is.

Your first real conversation took place at the bar. You had just come back from a mission with Toga. Your villain costume was covered with mats of blood and dust, and while Toga told you it made you look even cuter, you still couldn’t help but complain about the new found rips in the fabric from tumbling across concrete and gravel.

“Double scotch,” you told Kurogiri when you sat down at the bar.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Dabi leaning against one of the brick walls, cigarette hanging off his lips like a water droplet about to fall from a faucet. He took a drag of the cigarette. His eyes shot daggers at you from behind the hazy cloud of smoke that came from his lips. A lazy smirk etched its way on his face when Kurogiri set the drink in front of you and you took the first painful gulp.

“That’s a pretty bold drink for someone like you,” he said, leaning his back against the counter.

“How so?” You didn’t look up at him, instead opting to stir the ice cubes around and watch as they ever so slowly melted into the drink.

“Well I’d expect a bubbly princess like yourself to order something a little sweeter.”

Your eyes shifted to glare at him. The light emanating from the bulbs hanging from the ceiling bounced off his staples. The way it shined down on half of his face illuminated his blue eyes making them seem almost pretty. “What makes you think I’m a bubbly princess?”

That was good. Dabi likes it when a person has a bit of a bite to them, and your teeth were proving to be sharper than he thought. “You’re prissy,” he said.

“Prissy?” Your voice grew shrill at his comment, only proving his point. Your eyes had widened as you turned your head to look at him.

“Exactly.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was a staring match between the two of you, and the first person to speak would lose. “I’m not prissy.” It sounded more as if you needed to say it for yourself than anything.

“Then why are you so upset about a little dirt and blood on your outfit, doll?”

The nickname sent shivers down your spine and a warm blush crept over your face. How did he know you were so upset over that?

“Isn’t it just so,” he paused for a moment pretending to look for the right words. “Trivial?”

Trivial. That must be what he thinks of you. That you would drown yourself in whisky over a messy outfit when there are real injustices in the world. You’re pathetic. “I’m not prissy,” you repeated under your breath. It’s as if you were a robot having technical difficulties and could only say the one line.

Kurogiri placed a shot of whiskey on the counter for Dabi and took the empty glass away seconds later.

“Oh?” Dabi’s eyes widened as the shot ran down his throat and settled in his stomach. “You wanna prove it?” The blush creeping up your face ran cold as Dabi placed a scarred hand on your thigh. “Why don’t you come with me, doll.” His other hand delicately tucked itself under your chin and his thumb caressed your bottom lip. “Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

You’re not sure what you were thinking when you stood up to follow him, and it’s safe to say you regret getting on your knees for him. But what you wish most of all is that you didn’t enjoy it as much as you did.

With a new realization of why your fellow league members urged you to stay away from Dabi, you tried your hardest to avoid him. It was proving to be much more difficult than planned. The week following your alone time together he was hard to find. You suspected he was either out on the town or spending time in whatever shit-hole apartment he probably lives in.

You appreciated your week alone from him. It was silent and gave you time for reflection. You thought a lot about the night you shared and what your friends warned you about. As shitty as you felt, you couldn’t shake the memories of his hardened cock slipping in and out of your mouth with tears spilling out of your eyes as he grabbed the back of your head and thrusted his member down your throat.

Memories of you wanting to touch yourself but Dabi slapping your hand away rang through your head.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself, did I, princess?”

Flipping your pillow over and burying your head inside, you let out a muffled whine. The more you thought of how much you enjoyed that night, the crappier you ended up feeling.

“I need a drink,” you said to yourself. Standing up from your bed, you left your apartment and walked the few blocks down to Kurogiri’s bar. The wind seemed to brush right through you as you walked the dimly lit street. Even so, you didn’t bother going back to grab a jacket.

The bar was near empty, as you expected it to be on a Wednesday night, aside from the league members who like you had nothing better to do with their time. Shigaraki was sitting in a booth playing some video game. Looking up at you as you walked in, he gave you an acknowledging nod which you happily reciprocated.

Spinner, Toga and Twice waved you over to the booth they were laughing in, but you respectively declined to sit at the counter.

“Double scotch,” you told Kurogiri.

It wasn’t long before you could feel a warm presence behind you and hot breath tickling the back of your neck. “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen you, doll,” Dabi’s sly voice croaked out. “Don’t tell me I scared you off.”

“I should be saying the same thing to you.” You smiled at Kurogiri as he set the drink down in front of you. Even after taking a sip you refused to look at Dabi. You weren’t trying to play coy with him, you just knew that if you did look into those piercing blue eyes of his, you would freeze entirely.

“I shouldn’t be complaining,” he chuckled, turning around so that his lower back was flat against the edge of the counter. “But we both know that this little confidence act you have going on is just a decoy.” His eyes shifted to glare at you. Dabi has a way with words, and he could tell just how flustered you were getting underneath the layer of makeup you had put on earlier that day. “So why don’t we just cut to the chase and you follow me around back.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand that he knew you would follow. Kicking back the rest of your scotch, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the burning sensation to pass. You stood up to follow him into the back room, all while training your eyes on the hardwood floor.

It happened again and again. Dabi would approach you at the bar and you would end up with bruised knees the next day. At first it was a weekly ordeal, but after a while it became more regular. You were sucking him off so often that you were sure the other league members assumed you were dating. You were curious why no one bothered asking if you were a couple. Then you realized.

Dabi doesn’t do dating.

Still, you didn’t want to believe that you were nothing to him. He was the closest league member to you physically yet the most distant in all other forms. He had taken a liking to you so much that he let you put your mouth around his most intimate area. That had to mean something, right.

Walking into the bar on a Friday night, you scouted the booths of tipsy men gambling away what little money they have in order to find him. Tears pooled in your eyes, however, when you saw Dabi leaning against a booth talking to a young woman you had never seen before.

She twirled her fingers through her long black hair as she spoke to him, a tipsy smile on her face like she had just taken a hit off a joint. She reached out for what would be the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to her.

The sly smirk on his face didn’t go unnoticed by you. It was a smile your heart had grown to flutter at as you assumed he was only giving that smile to you.

The woman stood up and dragged him out of the building. As they walked right past you, he didn’t even bother to glance in your direction.

You cried yourself to sleep that night having finally realized what you were to him; a toy, his plaything, someone to abuse when he had nothing better to do. Loud muffled sobs echoed through your room as your feather pillows began to smell like mildew from the tears and snot that kept dripping out.

Your face was blotchy and the inside of your head felt like one big bug bite. You were miserable.

You ignored Shigaraki’s constant berate of texts and calls and missed your meeting with the league the next day, instead opting to watch reruns of shojo animes that appeared on your crap TV and eat copious amounts of instant ramen.

Eventually you texted Shigaraki back telling him you were sick. In a way you were. Every time you thought about going to the bar, more images of Dabi fondling that stupidly beautiful woman plastered themselves into your mind.

It’s not fair, you thought, how hard I’m falling for him and he doesn’t think to take a second glance at me.

Most of your day was spent yelling at yourself. You yelled at yourself for crying over a boy. You yelled at yourself for letting him get to you, for being so vulnerable that he could easily manipulate you into being his little puppet. But what you hated most of all was how you longed for him to stroke your hair, something he’s never done in a loving way, as you would sob into his chest.

Looking down at your knees, you frowned at the tender bruises that made you feel so exposed. You stood up to walk over to the poor excuse that you call a closet. The only items in there are a heavy duty jacket and a strapless dress that Toga got you as a birthday present. You never had a reason to wear it but it was long enough to cover your knees and that’s really all that mattered.

You slipped the dress on and spread it out with your hands. You modeled for yourself and couldn’t help but smile. She got your size right and everything.

Maybe you would go out tonight. You felt confident in the dress, something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. After putting on makeup to hide the blotchiness of your face, you left your apartment and headed straight for the bar.

The bar was less crowded than usual for a weekend. Your fellow league members hung around their usual booths and a couple other parties of a few people looking to get wasted were strewn about various tables.

Strutting over to the counter, you could hear Toga gushing over how cute you looked in the dress she got you.

“Double scotch?” Kurogiri asked.

You scrunched up your nose trying to decide for a moment if that’s really what you wanted. “Let’s change it up. Gin and tonic.”

You watched as Kurogiri prepared your drink. He handed it off to you and you thanked him. It was a lighter drink than you were used to, but you didn’t mind. If anything, you felt happier drinking something more bubbly.

“Howdy.”

You turned your head to face a rather confident stranger who had sat down in the stool next to you. You had never been approached by a stranger before. It was almost exciting. Maybe it was the dress or the lighter drink or maybe it was the sorrow you were trying so hard to mask over, but you felt as though you had a vote of confidence sitting next to this stranger. Taking another sip of your drink, you smiled at him. “Hi.”

“What is a fine young lady like yourself doing in a place like this?” His eyes raked up and down your form. Though you were slightly repulsed by the act, you giggled nonetheless.

“Just looking for a fun time,” you said, leaning your cheek against your hand.

The stranger bit his lip and looked down at your chest. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You were about to respond when a gruff hand grabbed your arm and yanked you away. “Sorry, pal. She’s not interested.” Dabi dragged you along towards the back room you two have spent oh so many nights together in. He flinged you in front of him and slammed the door behind. The only light in the room was coming from the full moon peeking its way through the window.

“What the hell, Dabi?” You raised your voice, something you were not used to. It felt off but at the same time empowering.

“What the hell? What do you mean what the hell?” The usual sultry look in his eyes was replaced with rage.

“Why did you drag me away from that guy?” You weren’t sobbing like you expected to be the next time you saw Dabi. No, the sadness that once clouded your mind was replaced with anger.

He scoffed. “Oh, so you think you can fuck any stranger just because it’s been a few days since I let you suck my dick.”

You cursed yourself for the small ache that formed between your thighs. And you hated that you could feel yourself getting wet as Dabi inched his way towards you.

“Nah, sweetheart. You belong to me.”

Those were the four little words that you longed to hear since the first day he forced his cock into your mouth, leaving a small bruise on the back of your throat. Now that you’re actually hearing them, all you wanted to do was scream.

“How can you fucking say that?” Now it was your turn to back him up against a wall. “I’ve seen you flirt with other girls at the bar. I’ve seen you leave with other girls at the bar. So don’t tell me I’m not allowed to talk to another guy when you’re clearly out and about fucking whoever. I don’t belong to anyone.”

You don’t remember the few seconds leading up to Dabi grabbing you and slamming you against the closed door. The next thing you do remember is his hands pinning your wrists against the wood. The moonlight illuminated his eyes that stared into you with a mixture of lust and anger.

It wasn’t long before he crashed his lips onto yours like you were the last meal he’d ever eat. It’s then that you realize that this was the first time he had actually kissed you. You had never fully tasted him until this point. He tasted like stale cigarettes and whiskey, an intoxicating combination.

Dabi pulled away, glaring at you. You tried to lean back in and recapture his lips, but you were stopped when one of his hands delicately gripped your throat.

“Do you really think you’ll find anyone who’s better than me?” Slowly and cautiously, his hand tightened around your throat, gripping it enough to feel your pulse in his hand. His deep chuckle bounced throughout the room. “You haven’t even seen what I can do.”

The hand around your throat left to wrap around your hips and hoist you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him. You couldn’t stop the look of shock from spreading across your face like butter as you felt the tent in his pants poking at your panties.

Dabi chuckled as he reached into your dress, pulling it down and scooping your boobs into his hands.

You gasped as you felt him latch his mouth onto your nipple. Your hands instinctively traveled to his hair to support yourself. You squished your body further into him.

“Someone’s eager.” His remark caused your nether regions to twitch. “Has sucking my cock not been enough for you, princess?”

You didn’t know what to say. So instead, you tugged on his hair letting him know that you wanted him to continue.

“I see,” he said. He began trailing open mouth kisses from your clavicle bone all the way up to the shell of your ear. “If you keep this up, I might just have to take you right here, where everyone can hear you screaming my name on the other side of that door.”

His words didn’t click immediately. All you could think about was the thought of screaming his name as his pierced tongue ran laps against your tender and puffy clitoris. “Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

It was one word that spoke numbers. Dabi’s shit-eating grin widened as he hiked up your dress. “Well then, I guess we better see how wet your little pussy is for me.” With your arms still wrapped around his neck, he gripped your ass with one hand, using his thumb to stroke up and down your already soaked panties. “You’re already this wet for me and I’ve barely touched you?” There was a hint of smugness to his words like he knew that he as good at sex and if you weren’t already soaked it wouldn’t be long before you were.

You bit your lips as the warmth from his palms dug into your core. In a split second, your panties were ripped and the remnants were left forgotten on the floor. You would have been mad if they were a nice pair or if you weren’t so focused on Dabi’s knuckles barely grazing your hardened clit.

“You want me so bad don’t you, you little slut?”

The words rang in your ears loud and clear. You do want him, more than anything.

Dabi sticks two fingers in his mouth and rubs them across your clit after gathering the slick from around the outside of your walls.

Your breath staggered a bit at feeling his warm fingers. You tried to grind your hips forward, matching his pace, but the way Dabi pulled at your hair and bit your collar bone told you to stop.

When he pushed his fingers deep inside you and your walls clenched around him, he could finally feel just how tight you were.

With your eyes squeezed shut and face contorting in ecstasy, Dabi could truly see just how beautiful you were to him. He slid two of his fingers inside and scissored them up and down, back and forth, just feeling the way your walls pulsated around him. He snickered at the sloshing sound of his fingers hooking around your walls and the little breaths that escaped your mouth.

Dabi pulled his hand out to spit on his four fingers, and rapidly rubbed them against your clit, causing you to cum instantly onto his palm. He caught you in his arms again before your knees could give out.

When the waves hitting you had finally subsided, you opened your eyes to find a smirking Dabi, clearly pleased with the performance you had just given him.

“Look at you,” he said, wiping his hand covered in your juices across your breast. “You’re so fucking messy. Did you do all of this just for me?”

The sight of you coming undone like that had him palming his dick through his black jeans. The ways your mascara trailed down your cheeks as tears rolled down the side of your face made him want to take you right then and there.

So he did.

Dabi made a big show of unbuckling his belt and letting his cock spring free.

Even though you had sucked his dick countless times, it looked so much more intimidating knowing it would be going inside you.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, doll.” Dabi stroked his length, fondling the pieces of jewelry dawning its head and underside.

You found yourself drooling at remembering what his jacob’s ladder felt like against your tongue.

Hoisting you up again, Dabi slammed your back against the door. You could feel it wobbling against your back as your jaw went slack.

With your arms around his neck, Dabi pushed your still bruised knees to the side, exposing your tender pussy to the air. He held the base of his cock in one hand and gathered up as much slick as he could. Positioning his head along your opening, he snapped his hips forward, roughly penetrating you.

You let out a harsh moan that seemed to rile him up.

“That’s it.” Dabi eased out of you, only to snap his hips forward again. “Say my name.”

“Ngh. Dabi,” you muttered in a breathy moan.

“Louder.”

“Dabi!” Your throat felt raw at saying his name like that.

As his hips snapped forward and his piercing tickled the edge of your cervix, your back rubbed up against the old wood of the door. The burning sensation was beginning to feel unbearable, but the feeling of Dabi playing with your breasts and biting your neck distracted you from the pain.

“Who do you belong to?” he barked.

“You.”

“Who do you belong to!?”

“You dabi! I will always belong to you. I won’t fuck anyone else. Only you.”

He chuckled. “Not so much of a priss now, are you?” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to turn your head towards him. Your shaky breath tickled his face as he forced your hips further and further against the door.

You knew there would be bruises the next day, that you would probably ache all over, but you didn’t care.

Dabi pinched your clit and he thrusted into you and you couldn’t help but scream. Your pussy tightened and you came around him. He thrusted again, once, twice, until he shot his hot ropes of cum inside you.

He stayed there for a moment, knees shaking as your back was held against the wall. As the both of you caught your breath, you stroked a hand through his black hair, exposing a couple white roots into your sight.

Dabi pulled his softening cock out of you and tucked it back into his boxers.

Barely able to stand, you used his shoulder to prop yourself up and stretch your legs. “How do I look?” you asked, bleary eyes looking up at him. “Is my makeup too smudged?”

He smiled down at you, a smile you have never seen before. This one was sincere and in a way loving. “You look beautiful.” He wiped underneath your eye with his thumb “My little cumslut.”

As Dabi opened the door leading to the rest of the bar, you pulled the top of the dress back up to cover your tits and spread it down with your hands so it wouldn’t expose your pantyless ass. When you left the dark room you paused to see the entire bar was staring at you, both your friends and the complete strangers.

Toga had a shit-eating grin plastered along her face whereas Shigaraki looked at the two of you with disgust. Twice, in all honesty, looked like he was about to cry.

“Everybody here needs to back the fuck off,” Dabi said, looping an arm around your waste. “This one belongs to me.”

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #Dabi #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi smut #tw: alcohol

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