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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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go the distance

(will you) go the distance

— You’re perfectly content in life except for the fact that you are not dating Deku. When his best friend won’t help you out, you turn to the dark side to get what you want.

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pairing: pro hero!midoriya izuku x bad villain!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, manga spoilers, pro hero!au, villain!reader, ofa usage for sex lol, size difference, manhandling, public sex, slight degradation and praise, deku eats his cum outta ya pussy, big dick deku, corruption but make it opposite, deku is a pervert change my mind

word count: 12,715

a/n: well, yall already knew I wanted to make this fic a reality, so here it is for bnharems villain collab!! check out all the already amazing stories if you haven’t already. thank you to kara, sky, and jo for reading this for me because lmao im ass rn. I’m gonna go to bed because I partied a bit too hard last night.

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your quirk: distortion – can make afflicted persons vision shift 6 cm to the left or right at the cost of having their own vision shift the same way

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“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcasted rumors of a villain running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures, and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning.

“Road maintenance endeavors to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

“Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

“Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved, but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city, please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

The female reporter closes her eyes, despite still being on the air, her eyebrows furrowed as she exasperatedly sighs.

“Was that good enough, Mirage?”

You look at her with a pout, your eyes then clenching shut as your lips move with unsaid words as you motion for the cameras to stop rolling. You tilt your head right and left, muttering a bit.

“Did that seem better to you this time? I don’t know, I don’t think it was scary enough...”

You open your eyes to see the exasperated reporter looking at you as if she personally sought to end you right where you were sitting.

“You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered,” she deadpans, and you laugh in agreement.

You weren’t really a villain.

If you must put a label on what you were, you would say that you were the best PR head any hero agency could ask for. You were, after all, the top student graduate from UA’s Business Course and had been ushered into a condensed agency the moment you were finished taking your graduation pictures.

And well, if you are actually curious about the… villainy, you would like to uphold and continue to stress that you weren’t a villain! You were just a public nuisance – like those stupid YouTubers – with the ability to garner Pro Heroes’ attention! People had no reason to scoff at what you did on the daily.

You took both of these jobs very seriously!

It was like being straight out of a comic for you!

A simple – hopefully should the heroes you’re in charge of not be stupid – nine to five job by day, and a badass, crime-committing, sexy as shit villain by night! How could anyone ever hate you for your lifestyle! How could anyone ever hate you?!

But we are all noisy people, and everyone wondered just why you became a villain because you had a beautifully stable job with an impressive salary! Why would such an amazing woman such as yourself dabble in the evilness of humanity?

Well, you did have an answer for the public.

“Why do you engage in evil, villainous schemes?” the reporter deadpans, absolutely and utterly not being paid enough to humor you in this forced interview.

The public loved drama, pizazz, a little showmanship even from what they deemed humanities worst! So, you told the world why you chose to be evil instead of good:

“Because I want to be!” you grin, flashing a pose as you make your away from the interviewer you had very much illegally forced to interview you. “And because a hero killed my cat!’

Of course, that was a lie! Why would you ever hand over the real reason as to why you decided to become a villain! You’d be laughed right out of Japan, possibly be murdered by a horde of fangirls!

For you see, there was one reason and one reason alone as to why you decided to take your place within the villainy hall of fame. Why you chose to do more in your day outside of your already demanding job.

And that one reason was: Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku.

Now, trying not to come off as some creepy, weirdo, stalker fangirl, you could fully admit that you were in love with the stupidly large hunk of a man that debuted as an official pro a year before you graduated from high school.

You remember how the world was finally recovering from the year-long nightmare that had ensued. To be honest, you were stupidly surprised you had even managed to graduate, given that most of schooling had become somewhat of a joke.

FIVE YEARS AGO, MARCH, 2XXX:

It had been in the evening, the clear blue sky becoming ruby red and blood orange as you made your way out of campus. The air somehow smelled of sweet hay and gasoline, but you didn’t mind. There was hardly anyone out at this time, most students had made their way home already, and the only sounds were the moving cars of businessmen just trying to get back home.

There really wasn’t any reason to suspect anything to go wrong, this was a simple daily walk back home after school that wasn’t like any other. But then there had been a loud pop, an ever louder screech, and finally, you managed to whip your head in time to see a car tumbling through the air straight at you.

There was hardly any time to think, even less to react, and the only thing you knew was that you were not going to survive.

You braced yourself, eyes clenching and body curling, your mind screaming because this was not going to be the way things ended. But before it could happen, before the car could come down upon you and squish you like a bug under a shoe, something picked you up and you were weightless.

Waiting for an impact that never came, the tears that were endlessly streaming down your face were suddenly stopped by rough, warm fingers smoothly wiping them away.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re safe now!” a voice says softly to you, endearingly warm and comforting. “I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Am I… did I die?” you whisper, unsure if you even want the answer, your eyes remaining closed because you refused to open them up to some angel that could confirm your death. “God, what an embarrassing way to die!”

“Oh – um, no! You’re not dead! I promise!” the voice laughs brightly, just softly enough that you believe him and not be entirely horrified by the amused reaction. Your eyes crack open slowly, just barely peering back into the world, still half praying you weren’t dead. But all you saw was green.

Green eyes, green hair, green clothes.

You blink, once, twice, realizing only then you were staring into the eyes of a boy about your age.

He had curly hair, freckles littering his face, and eyes that easily pierced through your very soul.

Without meaning to, your breath stopped, frozen in your lungs as you were captivated by a handsome man with a curving, beautiful smile.

“See, I told you it was okay!” he teased you, head cocking to the side as he grinned largely.

The action itself seemed to strangle the strangest noise out of your mouth as you realized suddenly and immediately that your face was burning and all you could think was:

A cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, acuteherorescuedme!

“Sorry about that scare! I would’ve caught that car sooner, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was around!” the green boy apologized, bowing deeply in front of you in his apology. “There’s a commotion just up ahead, so I recommend you take the next road over.”

You nod numbly, unable to conjure even the slightest hint of your voice again as he stood up to his full length. He was average in height it seemed, taller than you, but still not towering. The hero looked behind his shoulder, those big green eyes focusing onto the distance, onto something you couldn’t even begin to imagine – or see, really. He blinked and turned back to you, smile gone but the gentle aura to him remained, but now his face, his mouth, was underlined with a sense of urgency and engagement to whatever sent a vehicle tumbling your way.

“Which train do you take home?” he asked, eyebrows relaxing from his stern position, as his smile picked up again. “I’ll take you closer to your station!”

“B train,” you manage to wheeze out – unable to be the reason why he was held up but also confused as to just what he could do to get you closer to the station that was at least a mile away from here.

“Perfect! I know where that is!” he laughs for just a moment, and before you could even ask if this was going to be some escorted thing – because you definitely did not need it – his arms were fastly secured around you, and suddenly you were weightless.

A cold wind rushed against your face, nipping at your nose, cheeks, and ears, sending your hair flying around – into your mouth! Oh, you were screaming! You were soaring through the skyline, being held by some hero you couldn’t name, and you were screeching at the top of your lungs.

Making the mistake of looking down, your arms were suddenly around his shoulders, your voice growing even sharper and louder as you squeezed against his body and refused to let go. His hands, despite the gloves, were warm on your back, and his soft chuckle warming you from nose to toes as he secured his grip on you.

“I got you,” he spoke, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

Those words don’t exactly ease you, but there’s a comfort to the genuinity to his words. You nod nonetheless, your face buried deep into his neck. The cold wind continues to whip around you, the only thing sounding in your ears is the cruel whipping wind and quiet city below.

“I’m landing now,” he informed you, body shifting in the wind, and reflexively, you clung even tighter to him, expecting the similar stomach dropping motion of a roller coaster going straight down. “You’re – ack – c-choking me!”

The knowledge of that, hearing the strain and entirely unhidden sound of him choking against the current chokehold you had on him, you released him entirely with a shriek of your own. Was it a smart move? No, definitely not because you were how many hundreds – if not thousands – of feet in the air with a quirk that could not, and would not save you.

“It’s okay! I’m fine!” he quickly said, his arms shifting around your waist as you felt your body weight drop just the smallest bit. To which your focus landed to the concrete floor so far down, and you began screaming again. He panicked just a bit too. “Y-You’re okay too! We’re landing! We’re landing!”

Soon, but not soon enough, the concrete floor came underneath your feet, and you practically felt your knees buckle underneath you. The train station behind you was practically invisible, and you felt the floor come in contact with your knees, and you collapsed onto your hands and knees. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you wheezed and panted, unable to move from your position.

“Hey, look, we made it!” he laughed gently, probably being said in hopes that you would feel better. (It did make you feel slightly better, his laugh was light and pretty to listen to.) You could feel him approaching you, iron covered red shoes appearing before your vision. Looking up, you saw that the young hero was crouching, his face holding a wobbly smile that was earnest, worried, and full of unspoken hope. “I do need to get back, but before I do, are you good enough to be left alone?”

You blinked your soaked eyelashes at him, still largely unable to say anything at the cute hero in front of you who had a few scratches on his cheek, right below his freckles.

“Y-Yeah, um,” you say, your tongue cotten and lead in your dry mouth. “I-I’ll be fine, I think.”

The green eyed hero nods, offering you a hand and assisting you to your trembling legs, “That’s good to hear!” he chirped, his wobbly smile becoming a grand, bright grin. “You were really brave! I was impressed!”

Now, you were an idiot at times, but even you could spot a stupid lie. Still, hearing it said with such honesty, as if this hero who was no taller than five foot eight truly believed it, made something bubble in your chest, and soon you found yourself laughing.

“No need to lie to me, h-hero,” you manage to speak between stammering breaths, “thank you for saving me, though. I appreciate it.”

You grin crookedly at him, and to your utter delight, he reciprocates it.

“It’s the least I can do. I’d offer to take you home but… I’m not quite finished yet,” he says, and you can only nod, the conversation obviously reaching its last strides. You watch as he floats up, his eyes looking at you, but somehow focused how many miles away from where he had brought you from. “Stay safe?”

“I’ll try my best,” you agree to his question, hands clasping before your lap. “Finish the job quick, hero?”

He grins, “I’ll try my best.”

You feel a breathless sort of laugh escape you as you watch him beginning to shoot back up, but a sort of horror shoots through you as you rush forward, running right after him, hands cupping around your mouth as you scream:

“What’s your name?!”

The blur of green in the air freezes, and you stop running as you see green eyes and freckles focusing back onto you.

“Deku! My hero name is Deku!”

You stop at the curb of the street, eyes focused on the sky as the green eyed hero named Deku grins one last time before shooting off at a speed probably much faster than when he held onto you. The wind blows around you, and you can only feel the heat sitting on your cheeks and the way you’re smiling as you stare after his figure that's long, long gone.

“Deku...” you whisper to yourself, ignorant to the world of commuters beginning to appear at the station. “Thank you.”

And thus came the very apparent and obvious day in which you fell head over heels for Pro Hero Deku.

Now some people called you a stupid fangirl, obsessive stalker, and sometimes, yeah, you were obsessive and weird about your slight infatuation with a stranger. It was strange, you knew that! But you also knew that you had practically no chances of ever being able to woe the man behind the image of Deku because Midoriya Izuku practically existed as Deku 24/7.

After you graduated from high school, you were put into the same agency that was currently holding Deku. Without tooting your own rom-com obsessed horn too much, you fully expected to walk in and be handed Deku’s file as his PR manager and be able to thank him for not only saving you all that time ago, but also eventually sweep him off his feet.

But your reputation preceded you well, probably too well, because the first day you entered the office and was handed your list of three clients to work with, neither one was for Deku. Being a PR manager for heroes was hard, a job that practically held no set hours because, unlike your typical celebrities, heroes had no type of privacy or protection. They were constantly under the spotlight, being viewed by adoring fans and scornful critics. Your job served as the first line of defense for heroes against the public, and there were some heroes that were quite hilariously easy to work for because they were genuinely good.

The older PR managers typically held the quieter, easy tempered, or less combat heavy heroes. These heroes typically never had a bad thing said about them, their job was a glorified PA job but even less because there was no expected demands from the heroes they had to take in. Unless, of course, a hero wanted to do some sort of public event they hadn’t considered.

But there were the louder, quick to temper, or the heavy combat heroes that while made you an insane amount of money, also brought you a near 120 hour work week because there was so much to do, so much to consider, so much to keep your eyes on. There was the constant slander, the people who hated the louder, quick to temper heroes because they didn’t like their attitude, completely disregarding that they had been unsafe and a liability the entire time the hero was dealing with them. The talk shows that took months to convince to allow for an interview because they heard false rumors, and so you have to practically wrestle a boa constrictor to get a measly five minute interview done. And then the combat-heavy heroes… no one would ever shut up about building damages and how this hero broke his nose while he was stealing a store!

Not to mention having to have every single piece of social media on your phone, set to notify you whenever your clients names were brought up so that you could look at it. You’ve seen more than enough lewd drawings of your clients to last you a lifetime, enough fanfiction, and fan edits that left you with blazing cheeks and the need to never look at your client ever again. But mostly you checked each and every update because you were their first and only line of legal defense on these sorts of things.

You’ve taken down leaked nudes, fake news, and qualmed rumors and speculations.

It was hard.

So when you were shown to your desk on your first day and three files were handed to you, you were shocked to see the hero names you would be working with.

Dynamight

Phantom Thief

Shouto

Somehow, without having yet to speak with a single one of your now current clients, you knew that you were going to have your work cut out for you.

“Good luck newbie!” the woman who gave you the initial tour chirped, clapping you on the back. “You got this!”

Good lord.

Without much to do other than reading through the three’s files, you realized that you already knew a bunch about two of three of your clients. DynaMight and Shouto were two heroes that you knew teamed up with and hung out with Deku a lot, both on-field and off-field if any of the out of costume pictures said anything. Because of their connection with Deku, you had at one point learned a bit about them.

You knew that Shouto was a crowd favorite. He was tall and sweet and a complete airhead at the best moments despite him being smart. Controversy still surrounded his character, despite all the good he did, because of the past history that was brought out about his father Endeavor and his brother Dabi. The country couldn’t figure out where they stood in terms of that reveal. Endeavor did a lot before the reveal, and continued to rise up to everything in his path despite the skeletons in his closet being thrown out for the world to see. They neither forgave him, nor hated him, they only watched and waited. Then Dabi, of course, was seen as a could-have-been version of Shouto, and many tried to ask if he was really a hero and not actually siding with the League. After all, why on Earth would he be defensive of his father too?

The public had an unmoving image of Shouto based on anything but who he was as an individual, and you decided immediately that it would be your job to fix that. He was also, after all, a dear friend of Deku, so you’d do anything.

Phantom Thief was your easiest of the three clients. A relatively well mannered man who was kind and a bit weird in a fun way. He had a great sense of self and was a reliable person on the field. He made a great hero, but you could see the way his spirit blazed with an unspoken rivalry between him and the other two of your clients. Well, it seemed like he was the best until his former self appointed rivals came into the picture, but that was hardly ever, and according to Shouto, he was way worse back in their first year.

The greatest scandal he’s had so far in your three years of working at their agency was the one time he was lied to about a quirk and accidentally copied a woman's quirk that gave her the ability to change her cup size. Safe to say that Phantom Thief accidentally broke a few buttons on his shirt and was unable to stop civilians from snapping pictures.

But of course, the one that had you practically crying yourself to sleep nightly for more than one reason was Dynamight.

You’d known about him the moment you looked up Deku on your phone.

They were practically a hero duo in everything but name. They were always seen doing the same things together, whether that be on patrol together or maybe getting dinner, most of their top recorded fights were done with each other by their sides. You had also learned that they were childhood friends, and you practically vibrated at the thought that even though Deku was not your client, the chances of meeting him were still astronomically high.

There was no way you wouldn’t not meet Deku!

But you were wrong, so very, very wrong.

Turns out the hero duo in everything but name meant that Dynamight refused to let Deku be anywhere near him in the agency – the very small amount of time they spent in here. The few times they were in the same room, Dynamight absolutely refused to be interrupted because that was their paperwork hour. You had only ever been blessed with seeing green curls turning the corner as Dynamight gripped your forearm, refusing to let you follow.

“Like hell I’ll let you distract the shitnerd,” he stated simply, his red eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at you. You opened your mouth, ready to defend your not so innocent intentions. “I’m not stupid, so don’t pretend like you won’t try anything.”

Your jaw snapped shut.

Safe to say that you couldn’t do anything about Deku so long as Dynamight was around.

But Dynamight as a client was exhausting to put it kindly.

There were so many opinions and thoughts and issues and praises coming from everywhere. Hell, even the fucking Americans and westerners had caught wind of the Wonder Duo at one point and while you were well knowledgable on their opinions on Deku, the ones on Dynamight were the ones that you had to focus on now.

People still called him a villain, so many unhappy with the fact that he still screamed and cursed and threatened. There were many conspiracy theories that he was working with the long dead League of Villains. They turned their nose up at the fact that he was childhood friends with Deku, claiming that no way an asshole like him could have ever been friends with him. And of course the bullying revelation that had come out shortly after your debut.

That had been a trip, one that had you even shocked as Dynamight approached the table in front of the media, his body calm and composed. You had watched as he simply said he owed nothing to the media, that he had already done all that he could to deserve his atonement and deserve Deku’s forgiveness. He had spoken clearly, concisely that it wasn’t any of their damn business as to what he did, and if he apologized to them, the unaffected, the ones that had nothing to do with his early years of bullying Deku, of his previous weakness and insecurity, it would be a waste of his breath.

It isn’t to them he should ever be apologizing to anyways.

You had watched as he stood up, face calm, and hands shoved into his pockets as he stood and walked away despite the screaming reporters. You had wanted to stay longer, have your own hand in damage control, but a swoop of green came in and Deku was at the microphone eyebrows furrowed as he pointed a finger at them all and said that his past with Kacchan was between him and Kacchan only, and his decision to forgive Kacchan were his and only his.

You didn’t hear the rest, didn’t even get the option to hear the way the hero you loved defended the hero you worked for – his childhood friend.

No.

Dynamight had grabbed your elbow and dragged you out of the room with him, the metal doors clanging closed the moment fierce green eyes met yours.

You watched in the company car as Dynamight looked outside the window, one elbow on the doorframe holding his chin; his gaze focused sharply on nothing but the passing sidewalk. Had it not been for the way the hand on top of his lap trembled, you would have thought he was perfectly okay.

Neither one of you talked about that again.

But just because you didn’t talk about it again, didn’t mean the world was the same. People claimed he brainwashed Deku, others demanded that Deku beat the shit out of Dynamight. You knew that Dynamight would want nothing to do with this, but you would stay in the office (an almost useless, empty office as most PR managers did their business at home) for hours long after you were supposed to be gone, practically arguing with someone who only existed behind a screen and didn’t even care that much – but you couldn’t stop.

Seeing Dynamight’s shaking hand had really done a number on you.

“The hell are you still doing here, eyelashes,” Dynamite asked from the dark entrance of the floor. “Go home already, don’t waste your time.”

You had startled at the initial intrusion, but you immediately relaxed seeing the smudged paint around red eyes and blond hair. You barely kept your gaze on him before turning back to your computer and continuing your argument.

“I’m not wasting my time, I’m doing my job,” you remark, eyes squinting at your keyboard because your vision is definitely blurry. “I’ll be heading out soon anyways.”

“God you’re fucking annoying and stubborn!” Dynamight barked, the heel of his hand slamming into his forehead. “This is exactly why I won’t introduce you to the fucking nerd!”

“What?!” you shriek, suddenly looking at your client as if he had personally attacked you – and in a way he did. “What do you mean you won’t introduce me to Deku because of that?! I’ve already met Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and Pinky through you!”

“Yeah, because they’re not stubborn idiots too!” Dynamight accuses, jamming a gloved finger at you as he begins stomping your way. You startle, your chair shooting backward as the explosion hero makes his way towards you at alarming speed.

“What are you—?!” you shriek, hands flailing about as he grabs you by the collar of your distressed shirt.

Dynamight lifts you up to your feet as if you were a sack of flour and you grasp onto his forearm.

“I might tell you that you’re the most annoying and stubborn bitch in the world, but you’re not worse than fucking Deku,” Dynamight sneers, his red eyes narrowed and stern. “I’m not going to let you meet him until you learn how to give or you’ll hurt him, and I’m not going to be part of any reason as to why he gets hurt again.”

Your jaw dropped, clearly offended, but you closed it just as fast; the weight of his words made you a bit sad, even for just a bit.

“You’re kinda cute when you care for Deku, you sure I’m his biggest fan?” you tease, grinning at the hero to which he rolls his eyes.

“Shut the hell up and go home already; it’s annoying seeing you fight a losing battle that’s none of your damn business,” Dynamight simply said, putting you back onto your feet and blocking out your desk.

“I’ll go home on the condition that for my birthday you at least consider introducing us!” you say, unwilling to move from your spot. “I’ve been working for you for three years! You’ve kept me away for three years!”

Dynamight’s stare didn’t even shift the slightest millimeter, his red eyes unamused as you groaned in grief and annoyance.

“I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself?!” you grumble snatching your jacket and purse from the hook on your cubicle and shoving them on. “My names God of Explosion Murder: Dynamight and I am Stubborn™ but will never admit it.”

You continued mocking your long time client and most definitely friend if you dared to say so, and dragged the heel of your foot all the way to the elevator to which you were joined by Dynamight. The trip down the elevator is silent, and you keep your gaze locked on the closed doors, unwilling to even look at the hero next to you.

Soon enough, the elevator reached the ground floor, and you got ready to walk out.

“I’ll consider it,” Dynamight said as the elevator doors opened. “Also, fucking stop calling me Dynamight, Bakugou’s fine.”

He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, Bakugou!” you shriek, your lungs failing you at the thought of finally being introduced to Deku! You hadn’t moved from your spot from the elevator, your chest hammering with the thought of getting to meet Deku.

“Don’t get your hopes up, you’re still irritatingly stubborn,” Bakugou merely calls over his shoulder before lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before stepping out of the glass door.

That brought you back to reality just a bit and you scowled, knowing you would have to go beyond and above to prove that.

But you see, there were many reasons to cry about having Bakugou as your client. Besides the stinkhole of his previous bullying, people just were not understanding his typically prickly exterior. You had to go head to head with reputation tarnished, had to slap fangirls away who demanded that Bakugou degrade them where they stood. It was hard to not be stubborn as not only his PR manager but his friend, and in less than a month, still plenty of time before your birthday, you had already grown irritated of the meeting-Deku-card he waved over your head.

“Mei, if I have to go any longer than this, I will die and hope I am reborn as Deku’s new guardian angel,” you pouted, chin pressed against a cold metal tabletop. Your hands being used as glove models for one of your best friends Hatsume Mei. “It’s first of all impossible getting anywhere near him with his guard dog Bakugou literally stopping me whenever I’m within a ten foot radius! And then I’m not even sure what will happen when we do meet again! Would I even be able to talk to him?!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You talk to all my babies with me! There’s practically nothing you can’t do,” Mei laughs, smacking you against your back before returning her intense gaze back to the gloves. “Deku’s uh… I actually can’t remember him but I’m sure he’s a great conversationalist! I think he helped me with the Sports Festival my first year.”

“That was Iida,” you laugh, wiggling your fingers as Mei demanded. “You’re so bad with names and faces, I’m impressed you know mine.”

“You saved my baby, of course I remember you,” Mei turned her grin towards you, “but come on, why can’t you get with him besides this Bakugou guy?”

“Well, he’s just like Bakugou! He’s practically married to his job! Their schedules basically match together perfectly! There’s literally only three hours a day while they’re on the job that they’re not together! And that’s when they patrol their own parts of town because there’s hardly any activity they don’t need to be attached by the neck.” You explain and rant, your cheeks puffing as you stand up and allow Mei to run further tests on the glove.

“Sounds like you gotta become a villain to woo this hero guy, huh,” Mei spoke, eyes focused on the glove as you pointed a finger at the far wall and watched as a beam exploded from the fingertip and pierced through the steel wall like butter. “Too bad you’re a goody two-shoes or else I could make you some serious villain gear and make you a fearsome villain to then prove that Hatusme Mei’s babies and creations are untouchable and the best in the world! Muah-ha-ha-ha!”

You know her words are more joking than serious, but that doesn’t stop your eyes from widening. Your body shifts over to where she was standing and you screech pointing at her and just narrowly missing setting off the laser again.

“THAT'S IT!”

“What’s it?” she asked, completely confused.

“You have to make me a villain!” you exclaim, rushing over to Mei, who is eagerly waiting for her babies returnal especially since it ran perfectly. “You have to make me near-invisible gear that can keep me going toe to toe with Deku until I can seduce him!”

“You want to turn evil?” Mei questions, finger pressing quizzically to her chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“I am definitely not villainous to pull that off, but like I pretend to be a villain so that he talks to me and we can like get to know each other!” you exclaim, you’re unable to keep from hopping up and down on your feet, your grin unfathomably bright. “It's practically a romcom in the making!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mei laughs, altering the band of fabric around your waist. “You do know heroes and villains hardly speak? It’s more like… ‘I’m more powerful,’ ‘No me!,’ ‘No, ME!’”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but whatever! I’ll figure out a way!” you continue on unaffected because this plan was genius! Especially if you had Mei in your corner?! Her recent development of not using such… steampunk designs made her creations elusive and dangerous to own. Hence why she was an extremely sought out manufacturer, by villains and heroes alike. “And if I can go toe to toe with Deku of all people, you’ll know that you and your babies are the undeniable best!”

“Hm, that is promising,” Mei agrees with a nod as she forces you around. “Is this Deku guy all that good?”

“He’s the one you made the iron soles for!” you chirp and watch as the recognition and challenge spark immediately in Mei’s yellow eyes.

“Oh,” Mei chuckles, turning away from you and looking at her pile of made babies. “This would be good.”

“So we have an agreement?” you grin excitedly.

“Give me a month, and we’ll have your debut!”

Fuck Bakugou for thinking you weren’t good enough!

You hadn’t expected the initial phases of villainy to be quite as hard as it was, if you were being honest. The late nights at Mei’s personal lab made sure to keep your plans a solid secret, but you had to prepare for the wild range of what Deku’s quirk entailed.

There was smoke, something you were already used to working in because of Bakugou and his quirk. You’ve navigated quite a bit in his smog, and as long as you knew where you were, you would be fine.

There was also that danger sense, which allowed him to know when things were coming – something that shouldn’t be too big an issue considering you weren’t actually attempting to extract danger onto him.

Blackwhip was a big issue. How far or how much could you do if he even grabbed a hold of you. With sleuthing and the help of Mei having files on everyone's quirks, you were able to find information that blackwhip was a creation made of energy. Meaning that Mei was now making some type of destructing material to lessen the energy of the quirk, allowing for you to escape should he attempt to capture you this way.

Float was stopped by having most of your fights occur within a confined area, which was needed for you anyways! You didn’t need to be caught by anyone else but him! You didn’t actually need to land in jail – you would prefer to not be handled by anyone but Deku, actually.

Then of course the stupid superstrength and superspeed, both of which you knew you could handle with your quirk. You’ve been head to head with people with quirks similar to that before, and you knew your quirk was tricky enough that you’d manage to slip right past his fingers just fine. After all, you knew full and well that the Deku who took down S class villains was worlds quicker than F class villains – aka you.

You would be fine.

But today was day one, first of how many days it would take to get Pro Hero Deku, aka Midoriya Izuku to fall in love with you.

You were dressed in a black and purple bodysuit that was definitely not inspired by Shego from Kim Possible’s costume. Your hair was dyed purple by a special spray Mei created that would be washed out by the end of the day, but wouldn’t ever give away that it was fake. You wore a mask over your eyes, and grinned seeing that you couldn’t see a fleck of color on your irises.

Perfect.

And with far too much confidence, nauseating excitement, and unjustified attitude, you marched down towards your first spot, ready and adopting the identity of who you were about to become.

Mirage.

It was time to act. Deku and Dynamight were on different patrol routes right now, and you sent your threat, readying for the moment for the man in green to come in with the desire to stop you. With the very real threat of stealing every puppy within the tristate area being broadcasted within the area unless and hero bests you, you waited for your savior to come and stop you.

“I am here to stop your villainous acts, you villain!” a voice shattered the silence just as it shattered your heart. You looked over your shoulder to see some hero you couldn’t name standing at the other stairwell entrance with his fists clenched and ready to fight.

You groaned, shoulders crumbling with your well hidden disappointment.

“I wasn’t looking for you!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the flabbergasted hero who was just trying to figure out what was happening. “Where’s Deku?!”

“He’s – he’s not here yet,” he stammers, eyes wide. “It’s not his day anymore to patrol this area?”

“Aw fuck!” you complain, pouting at the realization that you had messed up. “Okay, I’ll be back later, please don’t come back. Bye!”

With a small wave, you easily stepped through the door to the stairwell next to you and left, your threat empty and the hero victorious despite not actually stopping you. And unfortunately, although you had wished and prayed even, this was not the last time a screw up like this would happen.

At the threat of destroying all the cats in the area, you had another hero show up, not Deku, and you groaned and left before they could even finish their call of stopping you.

You then threatened to poison the watering system, to which you found out that Deku was held up at another major villain threat in a different city. You groaned and stomped off after that.

Then there was the time you swore you would increase the overall temperature of the city per one degree celsius should your demands not be made. Shouto answered that one and you immediately walked away the moment you saw the familiar head of red and white coming your way.

Time and time again you kept being caught by heroes you could not care about, being confronted by no names and nobodies. It was tiring, and Mei was beginning to sigh just the smallest bit whenever you showed up to try yet again.

But you weren’t a quitter!

You would win!

This was your last attempt at getting Deku to notice you.

After threatening to wrap all the citizens in the area with a giant froot by the foot, you were almost sad to say that the heroes ignored your cry for chaos and no one had come to check on you.

You sat outside the building you used as your trap for Deku, pouting into a hot dog that the neighborhood's grandma gave you because you looked like you needed something to eat. It’s a good thing you weren’t actually a villain or else they’d be fucked, you bitterly thought as you took another bite of your food.

It had been a month of empty, no Deku appearances, and you were going to bite the bullet and pretend to be not stubborn just so stupid Bakugou of all people could introduce you.

You kicked your feet as you sat on the staircase, humming as you watched the empty streets bend with the wind. It was quiet, beautiful, peaceful.

“YOU!” a voice shrieked to your left, and you watched a pudgy, red nosed man racing over towards you, a flash drive clenched in his hands. “TAKE THIS! RUN! DON’T LET THE HEROES TAKE IT!”

You gawked at him, feeling the small plastic device being shoved into your hands as the man collapsed at your feet. You squeaked when you heard a voice yelling stop and you bounced to your feet, turned into the building and raced in.

Your breathing was erratic, heart in your throat as you raced up the stairwell, unable to begin to imagine what the hell the information on the flash drive held. You were practically hyperventilating as you reached the floor you had come to know extremely well, and you stood near the window with shaky hands and legs.

What did you take?!

“I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid,” a low smooth voice said from behind you, and you froze immediately. Old anxiety overcome by a new anxiety, one that made your stomach flip and blood burn.

Turning around, you felt awestruck to see the one man you’ve been waiting for… for fucking years now, really, to appear before you, finally be there. In the flesh, completely, entirely. Your jaw dropped, your gaze looking down from your clenched hand that held the USB to the way that Deku looked at you with warm eyes that were underlined with steel that made you want to drop to your knees, confess everything, and beg to be his. God, he was so fucking tall. He had only been about five foot eight the last time you had actually talked, and now he was at least a foot taller. His teenager haircut was long gone, now replaced with his curls trimmed at the nape of his neck before filling out on top – not quite an undercut. He had more freckles now, surely. His skin just a bit tanner, a scar trailing from his cheek to his jaw. You knew there were more scars, just as you knew that there were dimples when he smiled.

You wanted to have him between your legs while you begged for mercy, holy shit.

Tucking the USB into your pocket, you tilted your head as you will yourself to relax.

“I went through all the trouble of getting it... I think if I’m going to hand it over quickly, I deserve to know what’s on it, no?” you tease, your confidence coming out of nowhere while a smile spreads ever so largely over your features. Deku’s eyes widened just a bit, shock overcoming his green eyes.

“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Deku stresses, taking a step forward toward you. You click your tongue, taking a step backward while grinning.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked for,” you giggle as you watch Deku’s face go through an array of emotions before settling onto one – curiosity.

“What do you want?” he asked, apparently entirely ready to discuss any and all terms and conditions with you.

“Honestly?” you reply, tapping a gloved finger to your chin as you ‘think.’ Deku, however, nods. His stance relaxing, becoming one of preparedness but not the takedown he had previously entered with.

“A date with you.”

You watch as Deku’s eyes slam wide open, his jaw dropping immediately and he stammered. Oh, how your heart soared and how you felt giddy and wonderful as he seemed to slip and slide on his own tongue!

“A-A date?!” he ends up almost shrieking, his head shaking left and right. “T-That’s a total lie! You can’t possibly – well, no! Please tell me the truth!”

But you were giddy, practically drunk off the fact that you were making the most powerful hero in the world blush like a little schoolboy. You suddenly were on the offensive, stepping towards your hero who was much larger than you with power and drive behind each step. And it must have been the way you stared him down, the way you walked towards him at blank range with such brimming confidence that Deku takes a step back. But it’s something that makes you want to laugh as the heel of his foot gets caught on a raised tile, and you watch the mountain of a man tumble to the floor.

You’re on top of him immediately, hands pressed to his shoulders, knee settling near his crotch with most of your weight so he got the idea to not do anything funny. The USB sits between your fingers, and you lean over his flushed face that looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Actually, I changed my mind, I know what I want,” you say instead, nose ghosting over his. “Everytime I decide to do something… naughty… I want you to be the hero on the case to stop me. You and just you.”

You lean in closer, so close that you could see the specks of gold in his green, green eyes.

Deku hasn’t spoken, and you’re pretty sure his chest isn’t moving as you press your breasts against his.

“Understood, De-ku?”

Your teeth tug at his bottom lip and let go as he nods.

“Good, good,” you grin, sitting up on his chest and taking the USB in your fingers and slipping it into his utility belt. “Take good care of that for me, I’ll see you next time, hero…”

You had only managed to flash a quick wave before disappearing through your usual door, hoping and praying to god that whatever the hell possessed you would continue until you reached Mei’s. It wouldn’t hit you until much, much later than you had stunned Pro Hero Deku speechless within the first meeting.

Hell, you thought giddily as you answered Bakugou’s call about how he probably just got into a bit of a messy situation, maybe you do have the potential to woo him like this.

Thus truly began your descent as the villain Mirage.

It was quickly accepted and discovered that the moment you stepped into that costume and colored hair that you were the prey for Deku and Deku only. Most of your interactions with Deku occurred within buildings, and you used Mei’s gear to gain the final laugh each and every time to allow for you to escape. There were times, however, where you could be seen racing through the sky. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop as Deku followed after you, leaping, tumbling, and even catching you at times.

You flirted with him heavily, allowing yourself to be caught so that you could bat your pretty lashes and press your chest against his. It didn’t matter how professional he was, how good at his job he was, Deku was a pervert – so obviously a pervert it made slipping away almost too easy.

But because you had the world-renowned, world known Pro Hero Deku as the only hero on your case, soon the small block who had to play victims to your horrendous crimes became only a small percentage of people who were watching your crimes. These near daily crimes (or inconveniences/botherings as the people on the internet say to defend you and your actions) are becoming both a worldwide sensation, and so, it took nothing for you to continue having Deku at your feet and the world chipped in. So you agreed to do interviews, forcing uneager reporters to do segments on you so that the hype behind you and Deku’s relationship grew.

You didn’t want him to leave you, not until you got what you wanted, and unless you were an idiot, you were nearly positive you were almost there.

Why would you say that?

Well, a few reasons.

The first came about a week after you had first met Deku again.

You had joyously gathered the means to create a machine to shave down an eighth of an inch of everyone's shoes in the entire country of Japan without their knowledge. You had ever so evilly explained that the point of this was to ensure that for a full day, everyone would feel off and unbalanced but would not know why.

You had said this, grinning widely as you turned around to see Deku standing there attempting to fight off a very amused smile.

“I don’t think that would be all too evil, Mirage,” he called out to you, arms folding across his chest as he watched you set up the machine to do exactly what you said you would do.

“Mm, that’s what you say now, but just wait until you’re one of the losers stumbling around,” you say back, grinning as you turn around for just a second, wagging the knife at Deku from the distance.

“Well, regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku laughs just slightly, and you grin, standing up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.”

You giggle.

“Make me.”

You’re not sure what happens, but there’s dodging and weaving, spinning and sliding. You’re practically wheezing from how hard you’re laughing as Deku can not manage to land a finger on you with the help of Mei’s items and your quirk. It all comes to an end when instead of dodging, you throw yourself right at him, and Deku has not anticipated that.

His eyes are wide open and you fiercely grin as he falls back onto the floor, unbalanced and only slightly frantic. You have the knife pointed at his neck, the dull blade sitting gently on his skin.

“So, Deku,” you taunt teasingly, your teeth burying into your bottom lip for just a moment at the sight of the dark flash in his green, beautiful eyes. “Tell me one thing, or I’ll continue on with my vile plans.”

“O-Okay?”

“Are you single?”

The second attempt came a few many weeks later.

You had gathered about 75 tons of glitter bombs and were in the current process of making them one. You had plans of setting it off over Tokyo so that for practically the rest of eternity, the entire city would have glitter everywhere. The only thing is that you did have to glue the glitter bombs together because, well, no one made super giant ones.

“This is so annoying, there’s glitter everywhere, and I’m only ten glitter bombs in!” you complain to the ‘empty’ room but knowing full and well that Deku had appeared through the broken window at least five minutes ago.

“If it’s annoying to you, then shouldn’t you stop?” Deku replied and you grinned.

He really couldn’t stay quiet, huh?

“Well, if it’s annoying to me, then that means every one of my victims will also find it annoying. Win-win situation.” you say, turning around towards him and winking. Facing back towards the glitter bombs you scowl, “stupid fucking glue gets everywhere, too!”

“Regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku said as leveled as he could although you swore you heard a laugh in his voice.

“Just try and stop me,” you reply back stone cold.

You stand up and watch as Deku stands up from the windowsill and sighs just a bit too heavily.

“Guess I have to,” he says and shoots out before you’re well prepared.

Typically, and probably in any other situation, this would have been the end. Pro Hero Deku had come at you with the speed and power as he took out any other Class F criminals, but unfortunately for him, and definitely fortunately for you that glue was EVERYWHERE.

Deku’s hand was stuck onto your arm, and your chest was glued to his stomach, and you swear you never quite got the strawberry Deku references until right now.

The perverted hero burned scarlet, his face practically simmering with heat as your body became undeniably stuck to his. You had to fight off the vindictive smirk, the practically snarling grin as you could feel something hot and heavy twitch at your hip.

“Fuck,” Deku wheezed.

“Fuck, yeah,” you grinned.

“WHAT?!”

Deku could not look you in the eyes for about 10 more interactions following that, but you counted that as a win. But undoubtedly, your starred and favorite memory of it all was something that occurred just last week of the current present events.

You had stood on top of a building, threatening the entire government of stealing (i.e., cutting off) the aglet of their shoes and sweaters and then removing all the laces so that it would result in their wasted time and entire humiliation!

“I don’t think most people even know what aglets are, to be honest,” Deku said from behind you. You turned around to see that he was standing there with an unsuppressed grin. “It’s not a good enough threat.”

You go unfazed by his judgement, choosing to instead bat your eyelashes and push your hair behind your ear.

“Not a good enough threat, and yet, you’re still here?” you tease, enjoying the way pink flushes to his cheeks.

“Where else would I be?” he says, and you have to ignore the way your stomach fills with butterflies.

“You’re not cute when you flirt back,” you deadpan, biting your tongue harshly when he says ‘hey!’ “Enough chit chat, let me kick your ass now and then do what I need to do.”

Unlike probably what is 95% of the time, you made the first move today.

You were on the offensive, jabbing and weaving, sweeping and punching. Deku’s green eyes were nearly black as he watched you, analyzing and taking in your movements, countering them all without so much of an issue.

“I still don’t get your quirk,” Deku grunted as his hand swiped at the empty air. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“So then you can turn me in to the government who are still salty about their aglets? I don’t think so!” you say with a laugh, rolling out of the way as Deku lunges forward. “Try again, baby, I have full faith that you’ll get it.”

Deku puffed out a chuckle and lunged again, his huge gloved hand swiping at you, with nearly accuracy despite your quirk being on. But… he wasn’t exactly perfect.

RIIIIIIIIIP!

Cold air hit your breast and your jaw dropped as your very exposed breast appeared before you and Deku. Pro Hero Deku had torn the breast of your costume, the costume that you purposefully did not wear a bra for because you had wanted this exact scenario to play out.

“DEKU!” you screech, pretending to be modest and covering your tit as Deku finally yanked himself out of staring at your breast and whipped around.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t think that was going to happen! I didn’t even mean to look at your boob! It just sort of all happened too fast and it was very shocking! N-Not that you have an ugly boob or anything because actually I think you have a very great boob! But oh my god, I need to shut up please ignore me!” Deku spoke so fast in a matter of five seconds, and you couldn’t even tell him to come back as he sprinted away.

His ears burned red and you swore even as he was gone, you could still see the red of his ears illuminating the sky.

You laugh.

“What a perv.”

And so, we are back to the beginning.

Back to how you forced a local news channel to read your demands so that you could hopefully take your final bow as Mirage forever.

With the threat of having a machine that would make dogs bark at a frequency for hours on end until humans eardrums broke then bleed. You made your way to your typical building and hummed as you waited.

The world outside was the same as always.

There were a few people out, a few cars driving through the street, and a few birds chirping here and there.

It was peaceful.

“Don’t you think the new reporter thing was a bit dramatic?” Deku chuckled from behind you.

You were used to him approaching like that, used to him trying to portray being elusive and cool. In your opinion, it just made him dorky.

“No such thing as being dramatic when I’m trying to go head to head with the greatest hero ever,” you respond back effortlessly. You spin on your heel and look back at Deku, who is leaning against a doorframe that he most definitely is slouching on so that the top of his head doesn’t hit the frame. “Hi, Deku.”

“Hi, y/l/n,” he says with a soft smile, one that's slightly victorious, one that makes your stomach knot in a pleasant way.

“Ah, you discovered my secret identity,” you observe, grinning as you begin approaching Deku. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably not, I don’t think I could do anything to you,” Deku sighs, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you too. “You’re pretty amazing, y/l/n.”

“Let’s prove that then,” you grin while zipping forward.

As if the both of you knew that this was the end of the line, the final confrontation, the battle this time was different. It was showy, flirty, full of spins and side steps, playing a game of cat and mouse while dodging and weaving. You laughed as blackwhip dissolved around your costume, and you frowned as he began using more of his power to get from point A to point B much quicker.

You’re not quite sure how it happened, what exactly you did wrong, or maybe Deku just finally figured out the pattern you used for your quirk because suddenly you were being tackled from behind. You shrieked as the two of you went down, his body flushed on top of you, his chest pressing to your shoulders.

The both of you were heaving, panting, completely out of breath from the five minutes you took playing around. He holds your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head, and the other one is on your waist. You were trapped beneath him, unable to move the absolute unit of a man above you, arms and hips weak to his weight. You shoved your hips up, attempting to shift some of his weight off you, but you froze as he choked on a breath by your ear.

Your ass was pressed against something hard, thick, and hot.

Oh.

Ohhh fuck.

It was happening.

Holy fucking shit.

Your breathing hitches as you thrusted your ass up again, confirming you were grinding on what was definitely Deku’s hardening cock. And once again, Deku makes the prettiest, most embarrassed gravelly grunt at the back of his throat and you feel like every strand of resistance and strength snaps.

The hand on your waist pulls you even closer against his crotch, and there's lips pressing against your neck, and you absolutely lose it.

He kisses your neck sloppily, teeth nipping at your exposed flesh, and you grind against him, moaning and thrusting back as your body feels like it's on fire. He wanted you! He wanted you and your plan to woo him worked!

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you keen breathlessly. “Wanted you so badly, Deku.”

“Fuck,” Deku curses, his hips thrusting back against your clothed ass with power you couldn’t fucking wait to feel. “I wanted you too. Wanted you so badly, but didn’t think – holy shit.”

His hand that pins your wrists lets go of you, and moves to grab your jaw. You nearly fucking melt as his full lips slam against yours, and you moan as his lips move against yours. There’s something indescribable about how he’s kissing you, the want, the need, the months of suppressed tension bursting through every move and curve of his mouth. It doesn’t matter to you that you’re pressed up against the concrete floor, you feel like you’ve been placed into another world, an area where you can never come back.

Your arm reaches behind you and buries into his soft curls, you tug at them as your ass circles against his thrusting hips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whine at the hot, wet muscle in your mouth, and it sends your head spinning. You can’t take it anymore, you need him, want him flushed against your front.

“Can I fuck you?” Deku asks swollen lips pulling away from yours, his mouth frantic and trailing kisses up your cheeks and down your jaw. “Please, I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck you on the floor and against the wall. Can I make you mine?”

You nod your head frantically, unable to come up with the words to say in order to tell him yes.

Deku laughs breathlessly and flips you over so that it’s your back against the floor now.

And just like you want him to, Deku comes down to reclaim your mouth. Hot, open mouthed kisses, teeth tugging at your lips and hands grabbing your waist. His hands are huge against you filling up the space between your hip and your waist without an issue. Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling entirely small underneath him, but entirely ready to be fucked by him.

His lips move expertly against yours, teeth nibbling at your lips, mouth then sucking on your tongue. You can’t keep the continuous moans from leaking out, can’t keep yourself from staying quiet as your eyes flutter open and see green eyes so dark they look black, staring down at you with the intensity of a predator.

You were his prey, and you would present to him at the drop of a hat.

His body is hot, heat rolling off of his hero costume in waves, making you feel like you were near burning against him. And the heat between his thighs sits at the bottom of your ass, thrusting up and grinding against you so that you don’t forget even for a moment that you are making him this way.

“I always knew you’d have such a pretty moan,” Deku mumbles as his fingers find the zipper to your costume and begin to tug it down. His lips trail down your neck, biting and nipping at the newly exposed flesh. “Knew you’d look so pretty under me, waiting to be fucked into submission.”

The words spark something within you, your eyes fluttering as your hips grind just a tad bit faster and you whine.

“Aw, is that what you wanted this entire time, y/l/n?” Deku asks, his grin pressed against your collarbone. “Wanted to be stretched out and fucked until you can’t anymore?”

“I want it,” you gasp, your fingers burying deep into his curls. “I want you, I want it, I want your dick in me already!”

“Not into foreplay?” Deku chuckles just a bit, tongue then tracing up your neck.

“Oh I am,” you snap, fingers finding the zipper of his own costume. “You can find out later how much I’m into it, but right now, I have been wanting you for years, and you will not make me wait any longer!”

Deku only nods frantically, and it's a mess of limbs, sloppy kisses, and clothes as the both of you strip to nothing.

Deku’s in between your legs, one hand pressed to the back of your knee, the other gripping what you believe is his dick because it makes everything in the world freeze as you see it. It’s huge, so thick that his hand wraps around it in a nice grip, and it long, curling up to his abs, curved and veiny.

“Holy shit,” you squeak, your cunt already clenching at the thought of taking that in.

“Are you ready?” Deku asks, the hand on your leg moving away for a moment as he cards his fingers back through his hair. “I don’t have a condom, though.”

“That’s fine, I don't care,” you dismiss his words, eyes too focused on the flush cock in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll live after you kill me with that anyways.”

Deku laughs just a bit, his dimples flashing as he leans in and kisses you deeply. You tremble underneath him, feeling so small pressed up against him, and you mewl when you feel the head of his cock pressing between your folds.

“Put it in,” you gasp, leg lifting and wrapping around his waist, “put it in! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, do you understand?!”

Deku nods, and with a sense of frantic need, his hand guides his cock into you.

It feels like you’re splitting in half. The girth of his cock stretching your walls out to the max, and he’s only going in. You scream loudly, both in pain and pleasure because it hurts so good.

“Take it, baby, take me all in,” Deku pants, his hips pushing out small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your twitching cunt. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You’re taking me all the way in. F-Fuck… you’re so amazing! So fucking perfect!”

Tears are pouring out of your eyes, and your nails are tearing into his back, you sob slightly overwhelmed with his cock and the absolute pleasure of finally getting what you want and it being so much better than you thought. Your cunt throbs almost violently as Deku’s cock finally hits your cervix and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts in further, lips attempting to claim yours.

“Fuck me, Deku,” you beg, hips beginning to slam and fuck up onto his cock. “Please! I need you!”

“Such a desperate little villain though,” Deku sighs, teasingly, giving you one strong thrust for good measure. It goes a long way though, the power behind his thrust and thighs promising you a bruised ass, thighs, and cunt makes your mouth water for more. “I need you to promise to never do anything like that again and be a good little manager for Kacchan.”

“W-Wha–”

“Be good and stop being Mirage, or else you won’t be fucked.”

There was no hesitation.

“Okay.”

And just like that, Deku’s soft smile curves into a knowing, fierce smirk, and you can do nothing as his hands press to the back of your knees and he begins thrusting his hips into you. And it takes you completely out of control.

It’s a messy, frantic dance, your body holding onto his, your lips pressing against his, desperate and needy for his, and he is basically trying to imprint his body onto yours, the concrete, and the walls. Your bodies are so foreign to each other, and yet, when he fucks into you just a bit hard, just a bit faster, you come undone, back arching and toes curling as you sob his name.

It’s overwhelming to know that he can read you this well and for you to have never fucked him before. It’s empowering to see that he likes every forced and involuntary squeeze and clench of your cunt. He loved when your nails dug into his skin, raking their existence against the plane of broad muscles and scars.

Deku curses your name as you clench around him, his hands moving to your jaw so that he can lift your face to kiss him just so. He kisses you with a heated passion, a need that strips your entire being bare, and his hips slam so loudly against you, the slicked wetness is squelching and slapping with every grunt and moan.

In and out his cock goes, and you praise him and his cock.

You praise him for making you feel so good, for stretching out your pussy with that fat cock of his. You beg for more, and more, and more. You want every snap of his hips to send new colors to your vision, and every echoing squelch of your meeting, sloppy sexes only adds to the blabbering, unmanaged sentences from your lips.

“Harder, faster, more!” you beg, practically wailing against his shoulders, needing him more and more. The concrete hurts against your back, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he breaks your back, it’s a fall you’ll take. “Don’t hold back! Don’t you dare hold back!”

“Fuck, you’re crazy,” Deku gasps, his sweaty brow burying into your cheek. “I won’t though, I won't. Be ready, I’m not sure if you can take it.”

Before you can snap back that you can in fact take it, Deku’s weight falls heavier onto you and the angle shifts just slightly, and your words are ripped right out of your throat for a pitched, window shattering screech. Deku fucks into you with a new power, some untapped strength as greenspark falls from his skin as he ruins you for anyone ever again.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the concrete was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Deku’s fingers shove into your mouth, and his other hand wraps around your neck, silencing your words and noises as he fucks up into you again and again and again.

“So loud, angel,” Deku smirks, fingers stroking and pinching your tongue as saliva pours endlessly from your mouth. His voice isn’t strained however, doesn’t have any indication that he’s out of breath or ready to tap out and that nearly makes you go insane. “I can’t wait to see everything that makes you look like this… you’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked.”

Your head is spinning, the heated tightness in your core clenching and throbbing as his conquesting cock never once stops or lessens. It just grows and grows and grows. His cock twitches in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets out a deep moan.

“Such a good and wet cunt you are,” Deku gasps as you gag against his fingers that press roughly against the back of your tongue. Your vision feels hazy, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine as his hand on your throat opens and closes, demonstrating his power over you. “I’m so glad you went through all this hard work to get me to fuck you.”

You can’t speak, so you nod desperately, you were so happy you did this too.

Your hips buck up into him with sheer stubborn drive to get him to toss his head back and moan, you wanted to see him unhinged too. Your eyelashes flutter, as his hands remove themselves from your face, and they move to your hips to help you out. But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to moan out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose at that revelation.

Deku nods, his head moving so that his forehead rests against yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “I need you to look at the way your belly bulges while I fuck you before you cum, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering monster of a cock. And just like that, the tight heat in you snaps without a hitch, and you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Deku, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure he collapses onto his forearms above you. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

Deku is the first to move afterward, and you whine as he pulls his cock out of your sore, abused pussy. You make a noise of curiosity then fear as Deku spreads your legs even more open and moves so that his head is face to face with your cum filled pussy.

“What are you–?!” you screech as Deku takes a lick out of your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, this does taste good,” Deku smirks as he once again licks your overstimulated pussy and you sob. “Besides, who said we were done?”

bonus!

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/l/n y/n!” Izuku happily introduced you to his group of friends.

“What the hell?!” Bakugou screamed, thrusting a finger at you and all you did was laugh.

So much for not being stubborn, huh.

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #bnha #bnha x reader

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angryschnauzer · 5 years ago

Text

Jingle My Bells

Summary: Continuing my AU Rugby Teacher theme that was so brilliantly plot bunny’d by @feelmyroarrrr, Henry finds himself bored at home having been put onto quarantine due to cases at the school he teaches at. With his school shutting early for the holidays, when his wife needs help at her school, she calls in his assistance for some festive fun... with some after hours fun for themselves too.

Pairing: AU Rugby Teacher Henry Cavill x Teacher Wife

Warnings: Bad Puns, NSFW, 18+, Established Relationship, Public/Risky Sex Workplace Sex, Henry dressed as Santa Claus (yes thats a warning in itself).

Gif by @littlefreya and used with her kind permission.

Previous Rugby Teacher Henry Ficlet.

Masterlist on AO3, and old fics can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites. I don’t run a tag list.

Jingle My Bells

Henry was bored. Two weeks of quarantine after another faculty member had tested positive had meant he'd been confined to the house 24/7. Just as his test results had come back negative and his return to work for the last week of term had been scheduled, the high school had been notified that two students had come in contact with confirmed cases, so to cut their losses the board of governors had simply implemented end of term a week early.

And sure, Henry had done what he could to help keep himself busy; online gaming, World of Warcraft, hell; he'd even helped you mark homework for your primary school class. He cooked dinner for you so it was ready the moment you arrived home, and the house was the cleanest it'd ever been, but without you home with him he was just… bored.

"Just one more day, then its the end of term" you'd reassured him as you'd kissed him goodbye that morning, and he'd pulled you into his arms;

"Will you wear the elf outfit home tonight?"

"Oh, does someone have an elf kink?" You'd grinned and raised an eyebrow.

Henry lifted his hand to the little bells that were attached to your green knit dress;

"I kinda want to find out how i can make these jingle… i have some ideas…"

"Well you can fill my stockings after work, but i've got to go or i'll be late…" you pressed a kiss to his cheek; "Got to set up the area for Santa"

With a groan your husband released you;

"Fine, but i want you to sit on my lap later"

Henry was standing at the fridge contemplating whether eating Babybell cheeses wrapped in Parma ham sandwiched between two slices of toast counted as lunch when his phone rang. Seeing your school's number on the display he was half curious and half worried, but visibly relaxed when he heard your voice;

"Hennn…." You purred

"Oh god… you only use that voice when you want something i won't like…"

"Are you free this afternoon?"

He sighed over dramatically;

"What do you need?"

"We need a Santa. The guy we booked was someone's grandad but he's been on the sherry and we had to send him home because he was slurring his speech and referred to the kids as 'crotch gobins'"

Henry let out a snort of laughter;

"I've met your class… some of them are…"

"Nevertheless… could you stand in? We've got the suit, and you've been quarantining for 3 weeks so are safe… pleeease…"

"Hmmmmnn"

"Hennn, please… i've got a thirty kids that still believe…"

Henry sighed;

"Okay… i'll be there in ten minutes"

“You’ll need to walk…there’s no space left in the staff car park”

He sighed;

“Okay, make it thirty minutes”

If there was an award for best/worst performance as Santa, Henry would have got it hands down. Putting on his best pantomime Brian Blessed voice, he'd Ho Ho Ho'd his way through the three youngest classes of wide eyed Little Ones that had thoroughly loved meeting Santa. When it had come to the older kids in the Junior years, generally 8 years old and above, he'd taken a different tactic, instead filing them out to the playground and if they could score a hoop through the Netball net, he'd deem them nice rather than naughty.

By the time hometime rolled around every single child had a smile on their face, excitedly rushing out to their parents waiting at the gate, pointing out Santa to their younger siblings sat in Pushchairs and Prams.

When you’d finally waved everyone off you made your way back to your classroom, the security door alert sounding as you entered the corridor, the hallways quiet where your colleagues had already packed up their stuff and left for the day. Henry trailed behind you, chattering away about what the kids had told him, shedding himself of the fake Santa beard and the scratchy jacket, leaving him wearing the hat, his plain black t-shirt, and the Santa trousers and boots. He flopped down into your chair as you busied yourself around the classroom, his feet up on your desk.

Moving around him you stacked papers ready to be archived when he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you onto his lap;

“Come and sit on Santa’s knee”

Abandoning the papers you laughed as you settled on your husband's lap, turning to kiss him and the little bells on your dress jingled as you moved. The kiss went from chaste to needy in a matter of seconds, and you could feel Henry harden beneath your ass as you wriggled on his lap. His hand groped at your breasts through your dress as his lips started a trail along your chin and down your neck;

“Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

You wriggled on your lap;

“Oh I've been Naughty…”

Suddenly you were spinning as Henry fluidly moved to his feet, pushing you over your desk and stood behind you;

“Well i guess i’d better do something about that then” he pulled your dress up with a jingle of the bells attached and smoothed his hands over your ass, the green and white stripes of your tights framing your buttocks. With strong fingers he grasped the thin fabric and tugged, ripping a hole in them and letting out an appreciative grunt when he found you wearing a lace thong;

“You’ve been parading around in that little dress with this poor excuse for underwear beneath all day? You really have been a naughty girl” he purred in your ear as his fingers tugged the elastic aside.

You tried to move away, painfully aware of your location;

“Hen! We’re at school!”

“Shhh… the door alarm to the hallway will sound if anyone comes… so how about i make you cum before that happens, eh?”

His fingers had found your clit as he’d pushed his thumb into your velvet channel, and any further arguments were lost on your tongue as you sighed in pleasure;

“Hen, make it quick… the cleaners will be doing their rounds soon”

Looking over your shoulder you watched as Henry quickly shoved the Santa trousers and boxers down, his thick and meaty dick springing free where he was already rock hard and dripping with need;

“I’m gonna jingle your bells darling…” he positioned himself and quickly thrust in, making you gasp at the sudden stretch of it; “Gonna fill your stockings…”

“Tights” you corrected

“Same fucking thing” he grunted as he started to pound into you, the rhythmic thud of his efforts topped off with the delicate jingling of the bells on your dress. His hands moved and grabbed at your breasts, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he filled you hard and fast from behind; “Want me to come down your chimney tonight?”

Grinning you turned your head;

“How about we save that for when we’re at home…?”

Henry paused, his eyes going wide when he realised you were agreeing to the one thing in your sex life you hadn’t tried yet, even after being married for a number of years and him dropping numerous hints;

“Really?”

“Well, i know you didn’t put it on your Christmas list but if a elf is gonna be naughty she might as well be naughty all the way…” you winked at him; “But you gotta hurry up now…”

With a grunt of determination he started to pound into you, one hand moving down your stomach and pushing between your legs, rubbing at your clit as he did his best to quickly bring you both to orgasm. Your moans started to get louder, and he clamped his other hand over your mouth as he started to feel you cuming, your body shaking and the loud thuds of his thrusts filling the room as your desk squeaked on the linoleum floor. With a grunt he thrust in deep and at the height of your orgasm you felt him flooding your womb with rope of his creamy seed, his massive hands pulling you to his chest as he buried his face in your neck whilst your cunt milked the last of his cum from his body.

Breathless and glowing, you rested your head on Henry’s shoulder, your chest heaving before he carefully pulled out of you, pulling your underwear back into place as he tucked himself back into his boxers and Santa trousers. As you shimmied your dress back down you heard the thrumming of the floor polisher along the corridor, your eyes going wide before Henry turned you and rested his hands on your shoulders;

“C’mon, lets get home”

Taking a deep breath you smiled;

“Help be grab the last few bits then we can go”

Five minutes later you were stepping out of your classroom, Henry holding the large box of things you wanted to bring home for the holidays including your peace lily, pulling the door shut when you heard footsteps, turning to see the after hours cleaner;

“Night Mr Howell, have a good Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas Mrs Cavill…” he paused when he saw Henry standing next to you

“This is my Husband, he stood in as Santa today”

The old man nodded and smiled, carrying on with his mop as you walked in the opposite direction. Just as you got the security door you heard him starting to whistle, your eyes shooting up to meet Henry’s as you heard the tune;

‘Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way…’

Henry wrapped his free arm around your shoulders;

“C’mon my naughtly little Elf, i’ll drive you home” he grinned at you; “Then we can see about that chimney of yours…”

You clenched at the thought, your body already tingling at the thought of it. And hey, if you were going to let your husband finally fuck your ass, at least you had the entire school holidays to recover.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #au rugby henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill rpf

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

Text

Routine

I had the absolute pleasure to write for @bellanovas who wished for a continuation for the events after Different ♥ Thank you so much for your support over Ko-fi and then continously as a commission, you’re awesome!

Characters: Yandere!Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader x Yandere!Osamu Miya (For clarification: While they reader in the previous one-shots used they/them pronouns, we used she/her here) Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Emotional Meltdown, Forced Affection, Attempted Feeding

Even you knew the charm of routine.

Even though you were kidnapped and held in this apartment against your will by not one but two crazy men, you understood how a routine helped you to look forward to certain things and not so much to others. Still, it was nice knowing Osamu woke up first, letting you and his brother pull the blanket over your heads a few minutes more until Atsumu had to get up for his morning run and you for your breakfast. You always looked forward to them leaving for the day, despite it meaning they were going to lock you in your room, but at least you had some alone time to either keep napping, read a book, or play a game. It was also the only time you were able to shower or bath without always having the nagging feeling of someone waiting at the door for you, trying to get in even though they knew you locked it.

Routine meant knowing that your peace would be disturbed with either of the two coming home. There wasn’t a pattern to who returned first and when, the two of them communicating it throughout the day without having a way of letting you know - and not always wanting you to know either. If it was Osamu, you knew you’d at least get dinner soon. If it was Atsumu who walked through the door, a big idiotic grin on his face when he saw you, you sighed, wishing he’d still be at practice. At least, if Atsumu let go of you, he let you roam the full apartment and often brought you new things to get busy with.

However, that was only your day. The meaning of ‘routine’ meant something different entirely for the twins.

Cornering you against the wall, you averted your face to escape the smell of a deodorant shower mixed with sweat. It couldn’t be helped; Atsumu was what he wanted to be - an athlete. Nonetheless, he liked to disregard your personal space in favor of getting closer and closer, even if he only just returned home after a long day, immediately causing a ruckus.

You see, for the twins, you were the height of their days. No matter how much they enjoyed their daily activities, once they were done, you were the only thing on their mind. No amount of desire and yearning could come close to the drive they felt rushing back from their work to their home to continue their routine of loving you. A feature of this routine was that things you did once had to be shown again. Had to be experienced again, especially if they were cute.

Thus, your current suffering involved a grown man cornering you, trying to squeeze out the sweet, sweet ‘Welcome Home’ you muttered to him while your mind was foggy from the pleasure you had experienced on that day. It had become a part he’d have liked to implement in his routine, especially with how stubborn you turned out to be when it came to repeating it. You weren’t raising your hands or struggled as much as you did at first when they kidnapped you, but this was a matter of principle. Once you gave in to Atsumu, you’d always have to do it, and once they had this little bit, they’d demand more enthusiasm and more work. You’ve been with them long enough. You knew how these things would end.

It had been foolish, you couldn’t lie. Even though you had only tried to soothe the flared tempers of your captors with these words and were driven by serotonin and other feelings of happiness, you could only blame yourself for doing what you did. Never before had you shown even the smallest enthusiasm over their return, and having, especially Atsumu, latch on to that now, was just an immediate consequence. Any piece of affection you gave him was swallowed wholly and manifested in his head as a new routine for him. Had it been anything else - a kiss, a hug, an apology - you’d be in the same predicament, but it just had to be this silly greeting.

Perhaps you should have tried humoring him just to please him and get him off you, but the thought alone made you want to throw up. Once you’d allow this to fester in his routine, Osamu, too, would demand the same treatment. Before you knew it, the words alone wouldn’t be enough to satisfy their growing hunger for your attention. Suddenly you’d have to be affectionate with them when they arrived at your door, and they’d start to crave for more than you had to offer. There would be no avoiding or forgetting about something they made their routine, and soon enough, it would need to become part of your schedule too.

“I’m home,” he cooed, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. He was prompting you, fishing for what he wanted. Atsumu had a gift to ignore failure, simply trying it again even if his endeavors hadn’t been successful yet. ‘No’ wasn’t in his dictionary, and his understanding of you entirely revolved around loving you and gaining attention and praise from you. Fighting him was the worst. Though Osamu scared you more on a general day-to-day-basis, Atsumu was undeniably trickier than his brother. At least Osamu knew how to take a hint, while Atsumu ignored any and all that didn’t suit him.

“Home,” he continued, lips fluttering against your temple. “Home~” Another kiss to your chin. Arms started to crawl around your body, feeling like caterpillars wandering over your skin. Knowing what was about to happen, you tensed up, feeling your flight instincts setting in. But where to? Atsumu was already all around you.

Reluctantly you complied with Atsumu’s demands, his pulls and pushes leading you to the nearby couch. You knew if you wouldn’t move by your own efforts, he’d drag you with him, and not very gently so. At least that much you had already gone through, experienced, and submitted to. You preferred moving over bruising from his grips and pulls. It still wasn’t easy to give in to the fall when Atsumu plummeted onto the cushions, making you lose your steady feet on the ground in favor of seating you on his lap. Still, even that was manageable, though you wished you could have chosen any other position than straddling him.

The two of you settled like this, his deodorant still filling your nose with its pungent smell, but the hand placing upon the back of your head pushed you forward into his chest relentlessly. It was dizzying but not the worst thing you ever smelled, even though you’d have preferred his deodorant not to be as strong and musky.

Satisfied, Atsumu embraced you tightly for a few seconds, taking a deep breath of you in return, until you started to stir from the uncomfortable hug. At least for now, you figured he had given up on demanding your sweet voice to welcome him home, if only so because he wanted to cuddle. It may seem like a compromise to him, but you knew it was him forcing you to decide which was the greater bad of the two options he was giving you. Nothing was stopping Atsumu from burying his hands beneath your shirt, his skin noticeably colder than you after he just came home, enough to make you flinch lightly and dig your hands into his arms.

You tried to get up and free yourself. Still, Atsumu merely chuckled, his response a joking yet demanding, “No! Warm me!” as he reached up all the way over your back, well-maintained, soft hands digging into your sides roughly. Taking a sharp breath, you had a hard time toggling the pain and uncomfortableness that rose in you, wondering what he was up to while Atsumu remained calm and indifferent about your struggles. A few more shifts were all you did, feeling his fingertips squeeze you harder every time you moved, forcing you to give up if you wanted him to release you from the pain.

Immediately, his hands became soft again as he felt you slump in his hug submissively, Atsumu too taking a deep breath before rubbing his cheek against yours affectionately. The areas he had just clenched down on burned up quickly, but you felt the relief set in as the pain slowly subsided. Littering the side of your face with kisses, he finally pulled out a hand from your shirt again, directing your head against his chest once more. You could feel his body relax as he followed your example to slump into the couch, one hand caressing the back of your head with slow, tender strokes while the other one held you in place around your waist precautiously, so you wouldn’t jump up. He held you like a precious, loved child, though he was nothing even remotely close to a parent.

There was no escape from someone so eager to pretend this was a healthy relationship. That you were an actual couple hugging and embracing each other, even if you were more of a limp doll in his arms, barely able to bring up the enthusiasm to hold him in return. All you did was fixate your eyes on the entrance to your room while your ear rested against Atsumu’s chest, hearing an excited beating through his shirt.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“I did really well today! Everyone was praising me for my setting,” Atsumu began to recount.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“And Bokkun, he--” Interrupting himself with a laugh, Atsumu shook his head, heart beginning to race a little faster. “He tried to look extra cool, but he totally jumped into the net today and got stuck!”

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“What about you?” he shifted his attention, and you knew he looked down at the top of your head from above, his thumb coming forth to brush over your eyebrows. “I played Mario Kart today,” you whispered, unwilling to create an awkward silence and cause him to urge you on with more painful touches.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“Let’s play together after dinner!” Atsumu enthusiastically exclaimed, and you knew it wasn’t an invitation, but a firm statement of how you were going to spend your evening. It also didn’t surprise you that despite talking about Volleyball before, his heart only began to race now that you had spoken up. Atsumu could be that easy to read if he allowed it.

You thought of the possibility of a nap as he kept spluttering excitedly about how he was going to win against you and how much better he was at games than his brother. Atsumu called it ‘the perk of being the older twin’ that he was winning so much, despite you remembering that he lost almost all the games lately, suspecting it was because he tried to gain your approval by letting you win.

But your stream of thoughts were harshly interrupted by a sudden hand grabbing you by the arm, pulling you off Atsumu’s lap and out of his embrace. Atsumu’s merrily blabbering came to a halt, and you caught a glimpse of his face wrinkling while you fought with getting to your feet alone. “Go shower, you stink, ‘Tsumu,” you heard Osamu’s familiar voice raise behind you, another help coming to support your struggles.

“It’s not like [Name] cared,” Atsumu hissed, rising after you, their two bodies giving you a feeling of menace as they kept you between each other. “We just enjoyed cuddling, what’s wrong with you?!”

“It’s dinnertime, and you’re still not showered and changed, that’s what’s wrong, Dumbass.”

Atsumu did a short, upset flinch, a huff falling off his lips before he trotted off, pouting. Nothing angered him more than admitting his faults, and Osamu pointing them out didn’t help his swollen ego. Finally, after what seemed to be a quick pat-down, Osamu’s hands disappeared too, and he muttered a short “‘am home,” when you finally turned around, though other than Atsumu he wasn’t as persistent on you returning the greeting as you avoided your eyes and ignored it. Still, he waited for a hesitant, unsure moment, and you supposed the stakes were high when even Osamu considered delaying his routine just to hear your response.

But nodding slowly, his patience took over, and he turned to leave, having you trot after him with a relieved, inwardly sigh. Passing by the twin’s bathroom, you heard Atsumu’s phone play music as he started up a shower behind the door, but with Osamu being unbothered by it, you couldn’t care much about it either. Instead, you felt your stomach grumbling, your last meal having taken place well over five hours ago.

Absentmindedly as you thought back to the bread and egg you had in the morning, you stepped behind the kitchen isle, only to gain a very sharp, alert glare from Osamu, catching you by surprise. Understanding quickly, you were back on the other side, sliding onto one of the three stools on the other side of the kitchen counter, waiting patiently, for this was Osamu’s routine and not yours.

Where you got your food depended on what either of the twins was feeling like. For Atsumu, it could be a quick plate of pasta on the table in your room or convenience store-bought items on the couch while watching TV. But for Osamu, when it came to be his turn - and luckily that was more often than Atsumu’s - he had you sitting pretty and proper at his side as he finished dinner, mostly served in the kitchen for convenience.

Cooking was a skill he had in his blood. No wonder he raised ‘Onigiri Miya’ to be a famous hotspot in no time. But besides lavish onigiri, he also was decent with everything else he tried out and wasn’t stingy on bringing home fresh ingredients to feed you and his brother. Even Atsumu’s unique needs for his sports career were met by Osamu’s food, and though he did it with a straight face, you knew he enjoyed cooking very much.

Being dependent was despicable, that much you knew, but even so, his food could make the world a little better. Even if you wished it wasn’t, well, from someone so toxic and sinister. Someone, whose greatest pleasure was watching you eat the food he prepared for you. Someone who was that kind of crazy.

It was criminal that the plate before you smelled so damn good.

Going without food for a long time, or even just a few more hours than usual that day, it was heaven to smell the curry whose steam rose to your nose sweetly. Without doing anything lately to upset Osamu, he even picked out the vegetables and ingredients you liked. A trick he liked to use on you whenever you ‘misbehaved’ was feeding you with only the things you despised. So right now, it was pure bliss, even though you knew it was nothing short of being the reward part of his carrot and stick methods.

You started to scoop a spoonful of it up, not waiting for any signal - you didn’t have to do that, luckily - before putting it in your mouth, letting the hearty taste lay down on your taste buds and the comfortable warmth spread in your body. Usually, you cursed Osamu in your mind, but this day all you could think of was how wonderful the nourishing this meal was for you. Enthusiastically, you kept stuffing your mouth full with it, hoping you’d never get full and your plate never empty.

At least for a while, it truly seemed that way, as you ate and ate some more. However, soon enough, your tummy started to feel stuffed, every spoon getting harder and harder to swallow. You weren’t sure why you were feeling this way when you snapped back from your food trance, hesitating to take the next spoon, only to catch an entirely different spoon putting rice and curry on your plate. Confused, you looked up and at Osamu, who had a very pure and tender smile playing on his lips as he kept taking small portions from his plate, to leave them on yours.

“Uhm…” you mumbled, blinking a few times in confusion, and he, too, seemed to snap out of his thoughts, meeting your gaze wordlessly. “I’m full, so…” you tried to explain, putting your spoon aside. “Why? Don’t you like it?” It was almost laughable with how much his voice dipped low in disappointment as he said that, Osamu’s eyeing your plate gloomily, shoulder’s slacking. “N-No, it was delicious,” you muttered, a pang of nervosity driving through you. The last thing you wanted was to get on his bad side now.

“Well, then,” he chirped up again, continuing his curry transfer. “You had no dinner yesterday, after… you know…”

Oh, you knew. And frankly, remembering it now made you feel even worse about the kitchen counter you had sullied the day before with your actions than you usually felt sitting here and contemplating your life choices as Osamu cooked. “Breakfast wasn’t much, so I wanted to make sure you eat enough today.”

“I’m fine, really,” you assured him, but Osamu biting his lip with a doubtful shine in his eyes almost made it seem like he couldn’t believe it even after you ate your portion and most of his. “One more,” he prompted, holding up the hill of rice-curry-mix on his spoon to you, and you felt your stomach turn both from thinking about consuming any more and from letting him feed you. Backing away ever so slightly, you bit back on the urge to decline his offer verbally, instead taking your own spoon to eat from your own plate with your own cutlery.

Osamu merely watched, a shade falling over his eyes. Still, unprompted, he proceeded to leave the fill on his spoon on your plate again, proceeding to push you to eat more. You didn’t like to acknowledge this side of him, always wanting to believe he was more mature and tempered than his brother, but Osamu, too, could take too much pride in his doings and get pouty when he didn’t get the recognition for his work. It was a bad trait they shared, and though you tried to ignore his watchful eyes whenever you ate his cooking, you knew he was watching you with boundless joy because it was his cooking you were eating. Sometimes, like that day, you even ate with pleasure.

It made you aware that he reveled in this feeling of being your provider, the hand feeding you, and you wondered if he always thought this way about himself, or only now that you had allowed him closer than ever to you, caressing the remnants of doubts into security. Perhaps, he felt more confirmed in his beliefs after you led him on, believed more in a connection than he did before.

Scooping only the smallest amount of curry onto your tool, you proceeded to have some more tastes, hoping it would satisfy Osamu if he saw you eat at least a bit more. You dared to think not even he really knew what he wanted from you, and his actions were only placeholders for his true intentions. The intentions of watching you do things that were pleasing to him.

Even though the hand enveloping yours suddenly came as a shock, it was almost a saving grace if not for the person behind it. Cooling drops of water fell onto the side of your face, and your shoulder as Atsumu leaned over your side, pulling the spoon to his mouth with a loud, “Aah!”

Before anyone could react, he had already taken a mouthful, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb while his other hand held up the towel around his hips. “It’s good!” he announced, letting out a fond sigh while licking his lips. “Where’s my plate?”

“Where are your clothes?” Osamu retorted sharply.

“In my room, why?”

Staring each other down while Atsumu used your hand casually to keep feeding himself curry, you were both baffled by the exchange as well as him not getting his own spoon or not use your hand to navigate food to his maw. Mannerly, you turned a blind eye towards the towel or the lack of clothes thereof, but an uncomfortable friction began to spread in the air nonetheless.

“Get some clothes and stop spreading water all over the floor, and we can talk about you getting dinner.”

“You’re too sticky with yer damn rules,” Atsumu complained, finally letting go of your hand and turning to leave for his room. “What if someone slips? What if she,” Osamu worried, pointing to you though you weren’t comfortable with being used in this conversation, “falls and hits her head? You want that?”

“‘Course not,” Atsumu quietly admitted, sounding offended, a little worried even, but mostly pouting. “At least get me a plate too,” were his last words before he toddled off, and Osamu sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother before getting up. He wasn’t fooling you, you knew you weren’t a child anymore, and you wouldn’t slip on a few drops of water on the floor - at least, not seriously. It would have made sense for him to think so little of you, simply to undermine your being, but you couldn’t believe it yourself. Watching as Osamu filled another plate with steaming, delicious curry, you pushed your plate away from you, making it very clear you were done.

However, before you could go, Atsumu returned, taking the seat at your other side for himself and using your spoon to get an up front fill on the food, Osamu returning shortly after, scolding him for eating your food. “Don’t steal from other people’s plates, ‘Tsumu.”

“She’s done,” he confirmed what you had wanted to tell Osamu all this time. “You’re just jealous because I get to eat from her plate.”

“‘Am not.”

“Tell that someone who believes you.”

Their bickering continued, a laughable display of their sibling relationship. As if they could not go a moment without a tease or a snappy comment. As if this was normal, and to some degree, it seemed like it. By the corners of their mouth ever so often twitching upwards, as they joked on each other’s expenses, or the plates being put into the sink to be washed off later, it was all so normal. Just an ordinary evening, on a typical day, with not so sane individuals around you, but overall it appeared so awfully normal.

Supposedly, that’s what routine did to you. It made a situation that was nothing short of abstruse seem alright and normal, even though the tears welling up as your heart clenched with the realization, weren’t at all a sign of normality. Rather, it was desperation, pity, and fear of what was going on. What was becoming of you when even you started to adapt to this routine of your new days, a routine brought to you by the twins rather than from your endeavors and your life going forward. What would happen? Where would your life lead to?

You couldn’t care about the gazes you earned, two conflicted bastards watching the tears leave lines as they rolled down your face, cold and calculating. Still, neither of them reached out to comfort you yet. They wanted to see where the situation was going, what was happening. If you’d lash out again at them, throw a tantrum, or just fold into yourself. Fulfilling your needs wasn’t always easy with the relationship you three had, and they glanced at each other, hoping their twin would know more about what to do than they did individually.

But neither of their routines included tending to a meltdown, and yours didn’t either. They could pretend to be normal as much as they wanted. Still, the paradise they tried to uphold daily was rotting and decaying under the surface even if everything seemed to be fine. Laughs, fun, and forceful measurements couldn’t bring them what they really wanted, but it broke you into pieces more and more every day. Their routine and their acting slowly made you wilt and lose yourself, and neither you nor they knew how to deal with that. How to deal with your own routine of slowly succumbing to their forcing.

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know, so Osamu emerged from the kitchen to help you up, drag you back to the couch in your room, and sit you down between the two brothers as they put on the TV, latched a big blanket over you three. Their hands rested on your body, but you weren’t even uncomfortable with their touches at that moment, one palm rubbing over your lower back and one on top of your thighs comfortingly. A thumb drawing circles over your knee, while Atsumu pulled you to rest against his chest again, experience the warmth and comfort of another person wanting to help you through whatever you were experiencing. It was something they couldn’t understand, but didn’t intend to happen, at least, that much you took from Osamu’s worried frown as he wiped away the tears escaping your eyes.

You simply hoped that these meltdowns wouldn’t become a part of your or their routine ever.

Especially not when they took turns in gazing at you lovingly, adjusting their bodies so you’d be comfortable, and leaving tender kisses on the top of your head, learning that despite it all, they were the closest you’d ever have in terms of comfort ever again.

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iatethepomegranate · 4 years ago

Text

For now, they had this

So Shadowgast has finally made me write fanfic again. I started this a few hours after the finale, and then woke up to find Twitter confirmation for my reading of their epilogue. So here’s 2k of soft wizards confirming for each other what they already knew, in their quiet way. I’m playing with the timeline ordering of things, so my interpretation is not necessarily the Canon interpretation of how things went between them.

Demisexual Essek is addressed here, without saying it explicitly. I tried. Massive spoilers for the finale, obviously.

____

For now, they had this

As much as Caleb trusted Essek to handle himself, he had to admit he was nervous about leaving him behind in Aeor. But the longer they spent together, the greater the weight of things unsaid, and Caleb had to take care of something first.

He had to go home. Blumenthal.

So he did. Found his parents’ resting place. Buried his letters to them. Grieved.

He didn’t go back to Aeor right away, the weight of the Sending stone Essek had foisted on him heavy in his pocket. Essek didn’t need it; he could Send without expending too much of his reserves. Essek hadn’t said anything, but Caleb was keenly aware this stone was solely for his benefit.

Caleb lingered close to Blumenthal for a time, feeling the finality wash over him. He could sometimes feel the phantom weight of the letters as if they still hung from his book holster. It would take time for him to get used to not carrying them around anymore. Just like he had carried the weight of what he had done for so long. And likely always would. But he was more at peace with that now. He had a mission to prevent this from ever happening again. There were things he had done about it, and things he would continue to do for as long as he lived. Fixing his home would be a lifelong mission, but he was finally ready to handle it.

Essek left him alone for a few days, until he must have grown anxious. Well, more anxious than usual. Essek, Caleb had learned, was an anxious person.

“Caleb,” Essek’s voice appeared in Caleb’s head. Soft, but concerned. “I apologise for the intrusion. Are you all right?” The barest pause. “I am safe up here, but… I am concerned. But no rush. Please.”

“I’m all right,” Caleb replied before the spell could decay, losing the thread of the dome ritual he had begun to cast moments ago. “I will return tomorrow. Stay safe. And thank you.”

Jester would be appalled that he didn’t use all his words, but Caleb was… wrung out. Catharsis was, by its nature, exhausting. His response must have satisfied Essek, who did not Send again.

Caleb began to cast the dome once more, blending the exterior with the greens and browns of the woods, but transparent inside so he could fall asleep under the stars of his childhood one last time.

***

Caleb risked the teleport directly into Aeor the following morning, grasping the paper from the records room firmly in his hand. He mercifully landed exactly where he had intended, breathing the dusty air. His ribs expanded more freely than they had in years.

Essek floated cross-legged just above the floor in the corner, looking up from the pages of a ledger in his hands. He watched silently for a second, as he usually did while waiting for a wild magic surge in this place. When none materialised, he gave Caleb a soft smile.

“Welcome back. Come. I am sure you will find this interesting.”

Essek rarely pushed Caleb to talk when he wasn’t ready; he was grateful, especially now. They sat together on the floor for a time, smudges of salt and soot on their fingers as they dug deeper into the records of Aeor. Stacks of books, long-hidden information, and Essek’s steady, quiet company. Caleb had needed this.

It was only when Caleb threw off his coat to more comfortably crawl among the books, collecting fragments of a damaged volume that had fallen apart at the spine, that Essek said anything unrelated to the work.

“Uh, Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“Your other book…”

Caleb followed Essek’s gaze to the empty side of his holster. “Ah.” He sat back, depositing the rescued fragments on the floor in front of him. “It was… time to let go.”

Essek watched him quietly, but did not press. But, mere weeks earlier, he had listened to Caleb lay out all his plans to save his parents. He had even offered to help him. And had been visibly relieved when Caleb instead destroyed the time travel device and all the notes that could have been used to replicate it. He knew enough to understand.

So Caleb explained. The letters he had written. His plans to give them to his mother and father after he had saved them. But he had to let go.

“So, I…” Caleb had to take a moment, the tears threatening to overtake him.

Essek silently looped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, tucking Caleb into the hollow of his throat. Caleb breathed him in, and remained there.

“I teleported the book into the earth between their graves,” he murmured. “It's the closest I can… it’s with them now. Best I can manage.” Talking hurt too much, so he stopped.

“Caleb,” Essek said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Caleb let himself cry.

***

Essek was always gentle with him, but even more so in the following days. Passing of materials gave rise to held hands, lingering touches, lingering stares. Slowly, Caleb began to feel better. As much as he believed he could, at least for now. It was better than he had felt in a long time. With time, perhaps, the wounds would ache less. Never perfect, but better.

Having disturbed an absorber of an evening, the resulting scuffle left Caleb too tired to summon the tower. He instead set to conjuring the dome while Essek kept watch. They were a little far to retreat to the records room, but they had managed to barricade an entranceway with damaged furniture despite their pitiful strength. Essek, of course, had demonstrated he was more than capable of surprising everyone, including himself, in moments of great duress. Fortunately, Caleb had not gotten himself trapped under a tower this time.

So, Essek hovered close to Caleb during the ritual, keeping an eye on the door they had barricaded. He was tense, but Caleb had to get this dome up before he could address it. There was also a gash on his forearm that would need dressing… but later. Focus.

The dome popped into existence. Caleb put his spellbook away, feeling his shoulder protest. He would need Essek’s help checking the damage.

Essek ducked into the dome, sighing. “Let us not repeat the events of today.”

Caleb produced a set of clean bandages, a cloth and a waterskin. “Agreed.” He grabbed Essek’s arm and dabbed the dampened cloth against the cut. Essek hissed in pain, but didn’t flinch. He hadn’t in a while. Caleb wasn’t sure if that was a sign Essek was getting hurt far too much, or a sign of trust. Both, perhaps. Caleb bandaged the wound, and held Essek’s arm for a moment longer. He was okay. The fight had been tiring, but they had both come out of it. A cut on the arm was nothing in the scheme of things.

Essek extricated his arm from Caleb’s grip, and pushed Caleb’s coat off his shoulders. “Let me see.”

Caleb hadn’t spoken of the pain, but he also hadn’t tried to hide it. Essek carefully loosened the book holsters--a research journal, for the moment, filled the spot once occupied by the letters--and set them aside. He then ran his fingers gently across the front laces of Caleb’s shirt, until Caleb nodded his consent.

Essek gently tugged the shirt loose until he could pull one side off the sore shoulder. He frowned; Caleb couldn’t see the cause. Essek prestidigitated the washcloth clean and wet it, carefully draping it across Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb closed his eyes as the cool sensation took the edge off the pain. He heard a soft mumble, and sensed movement akin to the somatic components of a basic evocation cantrip. The cloth grew colder.

Essek placed his hand over the cloth, squeezing gently. “I think you pulled something. I will continue to ice it tonight.”

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered.

“Rest.” Lips on his forehead. “I will keep watch.”

Caleb opened his eyes. Essek was kneeling at his side, not floating. Too tired, perhaps. But his eyes were sharp, trained on the barricaded doorway.

“Essek.”

“Yes?” Eyes still focused outward.

“Relax a moment. This has been a hard day for both of us.”

Essek let out a long breath, turning his gaze towards Caleb. “I apologise. I… have a hard time seeing you hurt.”

Caleb’s keen mind kindly conjured for him all the times Essek had seen him hurt much worse than this, but he held his tongue. Frequency did not make these things easier. Least of all for Essek, who had been alive for over a century but had only been genuinely close to a small number of people. Caring was hard. Worth it, but hard.

“I know,” Caleb said. “The very nature of caring for someone… witnessing their suffering… it hurts.”

Essek frowned at the floor, but then lifted his gaze to Caleb. “I worried while you were away.”

“I know. And thank you.” Caleb pulled Essek in with his good arm, laying his head on his shoulder. He felt, not for the first time, the urge to talk about this thing between them. But, as he had felt many times before, now was not the time.

Caleb and Essek were not the kind of people to blurt out complicated feelings in a moment of distress or exhaustion. So he closed his eyes and rested against Essek instead. They were what they were to each other, and Caleb was confident this would not disappear overnight. Putting that into words could wait a little longer.

***

The next day was quiet, spent examining record books rescued from the rampage of yesterday’s absorber. Caleb and Essek needed a quieter day, and the slower pace was welcome. They rarely spoke while in the throes of research, always keenly aware of each other, passing paper and writing implements back and forth, smudging soot and salt against each other’s skin as their touches lingered.

It was everything Caleb had ever wanted.

Taking a moment to stretch his back and roll his aching shoulder, his eyes were drawn to Essek’s form in the corner. So engrossed in his reading and note-taking, he had stopped floating about an hour ago. Hunched on the hard, warped floor of this broken city, eyes intense as he scribbled feverishly. He was running low on ink again.

Caleb chuckled softly and crawled closer, gently nudging another inkwell into Essek’s reach. Essek paused in his scribbles, a small smile softening his features. He reached out, eyes retracing the notes he had just written, but instead of taking the ink, he caught Caleb’s fingers and laced them with his own.

Caleb had figured out he was in love with Essek long ago, but in this moment, those feelings swelled until he thought he would burst into tears. He squeezed Essek’s hand. Essek squeezed back.

And the words finally found their way from Caleb’s heart, and out of his mouth. “I love you.”

Essek tore his eyes from the papers, softening as he met Caleb’s gaze. “I love you, too, Caleb.”

Of course, the curse of a mind as keen as Caleb’s was the ability to have too many thoughts at once. He loved Essek. Essek loved him (Caleb had already known that, but it was beautiful to hear out loud). Caleb was human. Essek was an elf. Caleb probably had sixty years left to live, if he was lucky. Essek would likely live another six hundred or more, if he was careful. Essek was on the run from the Dynasty. Caleb had to return home, at least periodically, to root out corruption and make it the place he had once believed it to be. So many factors. So many barriers.

He wanted what time he could have with Essek, but it would be cruel to entangle him when Caleb’s lifespan was barely a speck of dust in the winds of time, when there were so many things they would have to do apart even before Caleb would succumb to his mortality. Caleb had hurt the people he loved too much already.

Essek’s free hand slid up Caleb’s neck and into his hair, cradling the base of his skull. “Your eyes are sad again, my love.”

“This will hurt you,” Caleb said, “in the end.”

“I know.” And it was Essek who pressed their foreheads together this time. “I will cherish the time we have together, and whatever comes after that. It is… rare for me to feel this way about anyone. I will not give you up so easily, even if I know it will end. I am who I am today because of you, and I will carry you with me long after you are gone.”

Caleb had tried to keep people at arm’s-length before, just as Essek had. But he felt emotions deeply, especially love, and it went against his nature to deny the love he felt. And Essek was the love of his life. It would hurt in the end, but they still had time. Decades, if they were lucky.

Essek and Caleb knew a thing or two about pulling luck in their favour.

The moment stretched beyond words. Caleb reached up to kiss Essek’s forehead. They were both reserved people, not given to grand gestures. It was not necessary. Their love bled into everything they did together, in dressing each other’s wounds, in defending each other in battle, and in their quiet moments--the shared silences, the passing of research materials, the touch of soot-stained fingers.

They were what they were to each other, in the time they had together. The joy would one day turn to sorrow, but, for now, they had this.

#cr spoilers #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #fanfiction #my fics #i wrote most of this at like midnight so it may be somewhat incoherent but I had a lot of feelings and no idea what to do with them #started making it had a breakdown bon appetit

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rivers-rambles21 · 4 years ago

Text

The one where Y/n’s a tease

Part 4 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming (later chapters)

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

I now realise the general theme is Y/n not being able to find her keys.

Whoever invented sundresses either needed a medal or slap. Bucky was in agony. The city was in the middle of a heat wave and neither of you could get comfy. You’d taken to dressing in sundresses every day, the soft fabric having a tendency to rise higher and higher up your legs throughout the day. There was something about the way they hung on every curve, how they framed your chest and revealed inch upon inch of tanned skin.

You’d met one another in Central Park, intending on grabbing an ice cream and relaxing in the sun after a challenging day at work.

“He’s such a dick, I can’t see how they can make it compulsory to attend but won’t pay over time!”

Bucky merely nodded in response; he’d quickly learnt you’d rather he listen to your rants than fix your issues.

“If I could change jobs I’d do it in a heartbeat” You continued as you reached the front of the icecream queue.

“Hi, one strawberry and one mint choc chip please - oh and make the mint one two scoops” Bucky dug around in his back pocket before pulling out his wallet, handing over a few bills to the server. “Thank you.” He took both cones and handed you your favourite.

“I’ll get the next one” You promised. Without thinking, you took a long lick of your icecream, moaning as the coldness hit your tongue.

Bucky choked.

“C’mon lets get somewhere cooler, you look hot” Your eyes bugged out as you realised what you’d said. “I mean you look warm! With your long sleeves and gloves!” You were quick to correct yourself which earnt a chuckle from the man besides you.

It didn’t take long for you both to reach a quiet vacant area which offered a gratuitous amount of privacy. Dropping down onto the grass, you stretched your legs out as you continued eating your icecream.

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked, holding out his cone. You took it from him as he peeled his gloves off, sighing as the gentle breeze hit his fingers. He then began trying to roll up the sleeves on his henley, grunting in frustration as it got caught on his forearm.

You glanced around double checking there was no one in sight before offering a solution. “You could just take it off, would do your skin some good, getting a bit of colour”

Taking another lick of your icecream you attempted to look indifferent on the matter.

Bucky took a hold of the bottom of his shirt before pausing.

“What’s up?” You asked, taking another bite from your ice cream.

“The scar isn’t the prettiest to look at.” He confessed, his head bowed in embarrassment.

Your elbow jutted out and nudged him, forcing him to look back at you “Hey… it’s only me” You smiled back at him, trying to reassure him how little you cared about the scar.

He smiled back before taking the plunge and lifted the shirt over his head. You tried, you really did but you couldn’t help but stare at his chest. To say he was ripped would be an understatement. You weren’t overly bothered when it came to body types but fuckkk his was doing something to you.

Snapping yourself out of your trance you noticed how his shoulders hunched over, as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Trust me when I say this Buck, no one will be looking at your scar.” You laughed, fanning yourself in an attempt to boost his confidence and take the edge off.

He chuckled in response and visibly relaxed, the pink in his cheeks growing from not only the heat.

You handed him his ice-cream back and returned to your earlier conversation. Your prick of a boss had reiterated today how important it was you attended the charity gala that night, some bullshit about being a team player.

In the midst of yet another rant, Bucky hadn’t been able to take your eyes off you. You looked radiant in the sun, a single bead of sweat every now and again trailed from your neck, down into the valley of your breasts. It took all his self discipline to not reach over and have a taste. And then there was the damned ice cream. He shouldn’t have ordered you two scoops as you took your sweet time licking and sucking on it, completely oblivious to the show you were putting on for him. What he’d do to replace that ice-cream with - no he couldn’t let his mind wander there. He felt his cock twitch as he watched you swallow the cream, your throat bobbing with the motion.

“I reckon if I implement the Jim Halbert approach I’ll be home by ten”

“The what now?”

“Jim? From The Office?”

“You’ve lost me doll. I don’t remember you mentioning Jim before? Is he in Legal?”

“It’s a TV show, he basically said you should have a memorable moment with the host and take a photo to prove you were there. Once that’s done you can leave without it being questioned.” You handed Bucky your empty cone without question, it had become somewhat of a habit. You ordered two scoops and he finished off your cone.

He took it from you and finished it in a couple of bites.

“Well if you make it through and get home early enough I’ll order us some pizza and we’ll spend the rest of the night watching The Office, deal?”

“Deal”

_______________________________________________

You made it back in record time. You laughed, even danced with a few people, took a couple of photos and was there for when your boss got slapped by one of the waiting staff much to your delight. In and out in under 2 hours!

“Hey Buck! Have you ordered yet?” You yelled as you knocked on his apartment door, looking for your keys with your other hand. “C’mon where are you” You muttered.

Bucky's door swung open and was instantly stunned at your appearance. He hadn’t seen you before you left for the evening and he was glad he hadn’t as he was sure he would’ve crossed a line. Your dress was strapless and fell to the floor, hugging every curve you had. The black velvet looked soft to touch and flattered your chest.

“Wow”

Your head snapped up and looked back at the man in front of you. His eyes trailed up from your legs, over your stomach and to your chest before meeting your eyes.

“How do I scrub up?” You joked, giving him a twirl.

“Beautiful doll” Your cheeks flushed at his compliment and you looked back into your purse, struggling to locate your keys.

“Can I come in?”

He stepped to the side and gestured you in. Once in his kitchen you turned your purse upside down, realising your worst fear. “Oh god, this can’t be happening.”

“Whats up?” Bucky decided to torture himself and stood behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“I’ve left my key in my apartment” Not realising how close he was, you leant forward, your head falling into your hands as your elbows rested on the counter. Unintentionally, your ass had stuck out, pressing back into Bucky's crotch. The super soldier couldn’t believe his eyes, it was as though the very fantasy he’d played out in his head countless times was finally coming true. From this angle he couldn't help but imagine gripping your hair as he pounded into your tight pussy, filling his apartment with your screams as you milked his cock for all its worth.

Before he could get away from himself he took a step backwards, despite every fibre of his being screaming at him not to.

He wasn’t the only one affected as butterflies exploded in your stomach, your core aching with the possibilities of what lied beneath his jeans. But, before you had a moment to enjoy it, the moment was over and Bucky, ever the gentleman, had stepped aside.

“I’ll call the super” You grumbled.

“I’ll order the pizza” He replied all too quickly.

20 minutes later and you were at your wits end. It took forever to get through to the super and when you eventually did, you were hardly reassured by his response. He’d advised he would try and get to you within the next two hours but he wasn’t making any promises - so much for looking after your tenants.

“Am I okay to hang out here with you until he arrives?”

Bucky simply raised his eyebrow, finding it amusing you’d even have to ask.

“Thanks Buck” Lifting your hands to your hair, you started removing the pins, letting your head relax. Whilst putting your hair down you couldn't hide your discomfort in your dress as it restricted your movement.

“Do you want to borrow some clothes?”

“That would be amazing”

You watched as he went off into his bedroom - could you even call it that considering there wasn’t a bed? You sighed in relief as you ran your fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp, welcoming the relief.

“I’ve left them in the bathroom for you”

“Thanks Buck” You flicked your heels off your tired feet before padding into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you. It didn’t take long for you to change into the sleep shorts and t-shirt he’d given you. Using your hair tie, you tightened the pants to stop them from falling down. Rolling your bra into your dress, you returned from the bathroom feeling far better than you did when you entered.

“Better?” He asked, pizza box in hand as he pulled two plates from the cupboard

“Much” You replied, sitting down on one of the dining chairs.

An hour later and you were both stuffed and the effect of the beers you’d been stealing from Buckys fridge were starting to have an effect.

“C’monnnn it will be fun!” You whined as you tried your best to tuck your toes under Buckys leg in an attempt to warm them up.

With a sigh he lifted your feet from under him and stood from his seated position, heading back towards his bedroom. Returning a moment later, he resumed his original position and started slowly slipping socks onto your cold toes.

“I’m waiting doll”

His voice snapped you out of your trance - you’d been watching his every movement, how he gently cradled your feet as he slid a sock onto each one before squeezing them gently.

“Okay, I’m going to fire these over to you quickly so just respond with whatever comes to mind okay?”

He nodded in response.

You scrolled through the list on your phone before settling on a set of questions.

“Favourite snack?”

“Cashews”

“Favourite Avenger?”

“Cap”

“Least favourite Avenger?”

“Hawkeye”

“Huh wow didn’t - anyway! Age you had your first kiss?”

“12”

“Age you lost your virginity?”

“17”

“Favourite place?”

“Wakanda”

“Any secret talents?”

“I can play the piano”

“Really?”

Bucky nodded in response, taking another swig of his beer.

“Cats or dogs?”

“Cats”

“Favourite neighbour?”

“Y/N”

You smiled at that one before becoming a little bit braver.

“Favourite position” You asked, mumbling your words as you quickly took a sip of your drink.

“What was that?”

“Favourite...position” You repeated, meeting his eyes.

Bucky gulped, his eyes not moving from yours. “Cow girl when I’m generous, missionary when I’m in control”

You blinked a couple of times, your mind racing as you processed his words.

“Good..too...uh… know” You gulped before racing to the next question, trying your best to not think about just what he meant by generous and in control. “City or country?”

“Country”

“Bike or car?”

Before he could respond your phone chirped, signalling a notification. Glancing down, you read the message - Won’t be able to make it tonight, will try and get there in the morning

“Fuck.” You muttered, clearing the notification from your screen.

“What’s up?”

“I won’t be getting into my apartment until tomorrow, do you mind if I stay here?”

Bucky looked towards his bedroom, his heart sinking when he remembered he didn’t have a bed. Reading his expression, you began “The floor is fine, I don’t mind-”

“No” he replied, cutting you off. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Bucky thought it was bad enough you had to hang out in his sorry excuse for an apartment but hell would freeze over before he allowed you to sleep on the hard floor. “I’ve got an idea.”

You watched as Bucky opened his door and walked out into the hallway. He started fiddling with the window which filled the back wall between your two apartments; the lock snapping under his strength. Lifting it up, he swung his leg over the ledge, landing on the fire escape.

“Buck, what are you doing?” You whispered, conscious of your neighbours and the late hour.

He took a step backwards and leant down, his face visible through the window as he stared at you, his eyebrow raised slightly as though he was wondering if you really just asked that.

“Just… be careful okay?”

He nodded in response and went back to the task at hand.

A few seconds later you heard another snap and the sound of your window opening. Moments later your apartment door swung open with a smug Bucky on the other side.

“My hero” You beamed up at him, your appreciation evident on your face.

You quickly went back into his apartment, gathering your things in your arms.

“I’ve wedged the window shut so you’re safe for the night, I’ll get you a replacement lock in the morning.”

Returning to your apartment, you dumped your belongings on the side table, turning back to Bucky. “Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You confessed, overcome with admiration. Before you lost your nerve, you pressed your body against his, your arms looping around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. You held in a sigh as you felt his arms respond and wrap around your waist, returning your embrace. Rather reluctantly, you pulled back as did Bucky, his arms returning back to his sides.

“Goodnight doll”

“Night Bucky”

You slowly closed your door and smiled to yourself. Tugging his sleep pants down your legs, you folded them up and left them on top of your discarded dress. After completing your nightly routine, you sank into your soft bed sheets, inhaling Bucky’s scent left behind on his tshirt, silently wishing it was himself wrapped around your naked body and not his top.

#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #tfatws

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

Text

ateez x reader; christmas drabbles

word count: ~500 each

fluff

kim hongjoong - making cookies

the small apartment smelt of balsam and sugar cookies, soft pajamas covering your legs as you watched your boyfriend peek inside the oven for the third time in ten minutes.

it’d become somewhat of a christmas night tradition, spending the day with your families exchanging gifts, eating a big dinner and playing a card game that almost always turned into light-hearted arguments.

but then at night, you’d leave before dessert and make your own at home. change into warm clothes, light a festive candle and enjoy the comfort and warmth of just each other.

even if it meant yelling at hongjoong for opening the oven and delaying the cookies even more.

“they’re gonna take longer if you keep opening it!” you whine to him from the couch, watching him turn around with a guilty expression on his face.

you can’t help but smile, completely changing your tone as you reach your arms out to him needily. you giggle when he abandons the kitchen almost immediately, promptly collapsing on top of your lazy form.

“i’m just excited,” he mumbles, a child-like tone in his voice that’s a bit uncharacteristic for your boyfriend. it makes you smile happily though, linking your arms around his neck.

he leans down for quick, chaste kiss, the lingering taste of wine and cookie dough on his lips. you pull away before he can deepen it, not wanting to risk burning the cookies since you put the whole batch in.

you meet his gaze and feel your breath catch in your throat at the way he’s looking at you, breath catching in your throat at the soft, fondness in them.

“i like coming home with you. it’s my favorite part of christmas, i think,” he mumbles quietly, like he doesn’t wanna risk anyone else hearing these words but you.

but it’s just you and him here. it always is on christmas night.

“what about the cookies?” you tease, fighting back the happy tears threatening to burn your eyes; because even though hongjoong is sweet, he’ll absolutely laugh at you if you start getting teary eyed from his softly spoken confessions.

“they’re good too, i guess.”

your loud giggle fills the apartment when he places tiny, little pecks on your neck, feeling his smile on your skin before the dinging of the oven causing an excited gasp to leave your mouth.

“they’re done but they still need to air co-”

your boyfriend was up and over to pull the cookies out before you could stop him, cringing at the way he slides the baking sheet on the cutting board without oven mitts.

“would you be careful,” you yelp, bumping your hip into his so you could close the oven with the proper protective gear.

your boyfriend rolls his eyes at your dramatics, taking you by the waist and plopping you up on the counter when you’re done. you let out a surprised squeal and smile when you’re face to face, bending down ever so slightly to peck his lips again.

your mouths meet in a kiss that has hongjoong pulling you off the counter to hold you against it, your legs wrapped around tightly around his waist.

you kiss and giggle into each other’s mouths for the perfect amount of time for the cookies to finish, pulling away quickly to grab one and shove it in your boyfriend’s face.

he narrows his eyes but chews it regardless, munching on the soft chocolatey taste before feeding you one.

you don’t even make it back to the living room before they’re all gone, deciding to make a batch of brownies next because “we need a snack for the movie.”

park seonghwa - christmas morning

most mornings, you woke to an empty bed and the blaring of your alarm.

it was especially sad because no matter what your boyfriend’s schedule was, he always made sure to be home before you went to bed.

it’s why waking up without him was always that much harder, the bed cold and apartment feeling empty - this morning, however, was different in the best kind of way.

you woke to the feel of soft pecks on your face, your eyes fluttering open in confusion when a deep chuckle tickled your skin.

“good morning, baby. merry christmas.”

it took you a few seconds to remember what today was and why seonghwa was home.

you can’t remember the last time he woke you up like this (apart from the two days a few weeks ago when he took off because you had a bad stomach virus).

but right now, you’re just so overwhelmed with happiness. a smile brightening your tired face as you throw your arms around his neck and push your face into him.

his arms come up to wrap you in a hug, a chuckle leaving his mouth again as he presses his lips to your skin.

“i wish i could wake up to you more,” he mumbled sweetly in your ear, caught off by your reaction but also feeling his heart soar; he loves when your clingy like this, especially when you’re sleepy in bed.

“merry christmas, seonghwa,” your scratchy, morning voice mumbles softly, a smile on his face as he presses one last kiss to your lips.

“hi, my love. you want any breakfast yet?”

you only mumble in protest, shaking your head as you push your face further into him. you feel him laugh against your head and hide your pout into his pajama shirt.

you two don’t have to go out until three p.m. so seonghwa’s quick to crawl back under the covers, settling you against him as your head becomes completely buried in his warm chest.

he fears for a moment that you can’t breathe like this but then feels your soft breaths against him, his hand running up and down your back gently.

it’s how he stays for the next hour and a half, switching between watching you sleep and closing his eyes.

he never falls asleep but he’s completely at ease, warm and relaxed in bed with the knowledge that you’re safe and comfortable right beside him.

and when you finally wake for real this time, a tiny yawn leaving your mouth as you turn in his hold, you give him the same bright smile you did when you were half asleep.

“seonghwa,” you say happily, surprised to see him still right beside you. “you’re home.”

“of course i’m home, baby,” he says, a part of his chest hurting at the surprise on your face; after today, he’s gonna try and make it a personal mission to wake up with you more - even if it means asking to go into the studio a few hours later one or two days a week.

your next words get cut off by the growling of your stomach, an embarrassed flush crossing your cheeks that causes him to peck a kiss on both.

“let me make you something, love.”

before you can even protest, he scoops you up and into his arms. he ignores your loud squeals and giggles as he walks into the living room, right past the presents under the tree and into the kitchen.

he places you on the counter and taps your nose lightly, watching with a small smile as you sit crossed-legged and help him pour messy pancake batter into a pan.

it’s a lousy attempt at making the snowman pancakes you saw a video of a few days ago but they still taste good, especially because seonghwa feeds each and every one to you.

jeong yunho - secret santa

while you were grateful for the $20 budget your friend-group’s secret santa implemented, you always had a tough time putting a cute gift together; you didn’t want it to be cheesy but you also didn’t wanna go over budget and make anyone feel bad.

but you can even admit secretly that when you picked yunho’s name from the hat a month ago, you were heavily considering going all out.

you had a crush on your friend for as long as you could remember, his sweet smile and bubbly spirit easily making you fall for him.

he was like that with everyone, gave everyone soft looks and always genuinely cared for them, but it didn’t stop your silly self from falling.

from having such an all-consuming, heart-pounding crush on him that picking out a gift for him seemed damn near impossible.

“i’m not gonna give him my confession as a gift, are you crazy!” you squeal at your friend, embarrassed and horrified by the idea alone. “that’s so embarrassing and cheesy.”

“okay but it’s not just your confession, it’s an ornament too! and i already told you that he likes you back so it won’t be embarrassing!”

and you don’t know what the hell you were thinking, allowing your friend to drag you to the mall and pick out a cute merry christmas ornament with two pictures of you and yunho in the red and green balls.

the first was from your first day of a college together, yunho looking as handsome as ever in a maroon sweater and bubbly smile. the second was from this past summer, when you and all your friends went on vacation to the beach.

you had accidentally matched in yellow bathing suits and were all but forced to take a picture together, your friend snapping a candid one of you both laughing in embarrassment together.

anyone with eyes could see your gazes held such soft affection and love but both of you were too blind to see it. it’d be a christmas miracle, really, if the two of you would finally get your feelings out in the open.

the night of secret santa came and you were absolutely terrified, shakily handing yunho your gift and watching his smile light up when he sees you had him this whole time.

he loved the present and thanked you with a tight hug, his warm, broad chest causing your heart to flutter; but you were nervous for nothing because he didn’t flip the ornament over to reveal your hand-written “i like you.”

not until two nights later, when you opened your apartment door to see him standing there with a wide smile and pink flush on his cheeks.

“hey, yunho. what are you doing he-”

he cut you off with a rushed, “i like you, too,” taking in your wide-eyed expression before bending down to crash his lips against yours.

kang yeosang - ugly sweater party

the last place you wanted to be was this ugly sweater party.

it wasn’t that you didn’t have any christmas spirit, you loved christmas and it was your favorite holiday, but the day had been unkind to you.

tragedy after tragedy that felt you feeling like the grinch during this holiday season.

you were able to fake it for a little bit, sing along to christmas karaoke, pose for pictures in your ugly sweater, and even participate in a cookie decorating contest.

but by the middle of the night, when the eggnog had gotten to everyone else, you were done.

your bad day had caught up to you and you found solace in your friend’s tiny balcony, snow on the ground and the cold chill in the air not even enough to keep you away.

you heard the door squeak open and expected your friend’s drunken voice to greet you but, instead, you heard someone very different.

a deep, unfamiliar voice that sent chills up your spine.

“oh. sorry. i didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

you turn around to see a boy with a not-so-ugly, ugly christmas sweater and pink hair. it’s then that you recognize him as your friend’s co-worker who won the cookie decorating contest earlier, his face as beautiful as it seems kind.

the shy, sheepish look he throws your way is enough to soften even your grinch-like spirit tonight.

“it’s okay.”

you know he doesn’t move for a few seconds because you don’t hear the snow crunching underneath his boots.

but once he finally does, he sits on the other side of the balcony, dusting off one of the chairs and hissing through his teeth at the cold.

“should’ve worn gloves,” he mumbles, almost to himself even though you let out a small chuckle.

“or maybe you shouldn’t have touched the snow with your bare hands.”

when there’s a few beats of silence in the air, you think he took offense to your joking comment and quickly look up. there’s an amused look in his eyes and a smirk quirking at his lips, a deep chuckle that sends butterflies through your stomach finally leaving his mouth.

“that’s very true.”

you smile at the boy and try not to feel too giddy when he smiles back, roaming his face a little bit before you decide to speak again.

“you won the cookie decorating contest, didn’t you?”

“i did,” he smiles, a mock look of pride in his face as he nods his head. “you had the gingerbread men, right? with the wonky arms and crooked smile?”

an uncontrollable laugh bubbles out of your mouth at his retort, your hand flying to your face so you can cover your mouth - they really were wonky arms.

“yes. yes i did.”

your laughs linger for a few more seconds, yours more high-pitch and breathy while his are deep and full.

it’s exactly what you needed tonight, a laugh to dwell all the stresses that come with end of the year shopping and last minute work projects.

“i’m sure they were still good,” he says, a soft sweetness in his tone that makes you smirk.

“i wouldn’t know, i didn’t get a chance to try them,” you say with a smirk.

because wonky or not, crooked smiles or not, you know they were good. the only thing you’re capable of baking is gingerbread cookies.

“maybe because i had four of them.”

another laugh leaves your mouth and yeosang finds himself smiling again, your tongue peeking out to lick at your dry, cold lips.

“well, i’m sad to say i didn’t get to try your award winning cookies.”

a smirk crosses his face as he looks you over, slight nerves coursing through him before he decides to say fuck it and allows the next words to leave his mouth.

“maybe one day you can,” he says lowly, a teasing softness in his eyes when he scoots closer to your chair and holds out his cold hand. “i’m yeosang.”

choi san - snowed in

when the forecast for tuesday night called for 24 inches snow, no one took it seriously.

of course, there was a rush of people in the grocery stores taking precautions - buying bread and milk and all the necessities in the event that the weatherman was actually correct.

but they never seemed to be right.

only half of that usually falls, if it doesn’t turn to rain and slush by the end of then night - this time, however, they were right.

you and san woke on wednesday morning to a blanket of snow and flakes falling from the sky, your blonde, sleepy boyfriend crawling back into bed and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“san, you have work,” you mumbled sleepily, whining to him despite the way you turned over and buried yourself in his chest; he was just so warm and comfortable, his scent surrounding you in a way you always loved.

“no, i don’t. it snowed,” he tells you quietly, his eyes closed and lips brushing against your head. “a lot actually.”

the feeling of happiness and relief that ran through you was almost concerning, knowing that for all day and night, you got to be here with him. sleep in and dedicate your day to laying around, eating and watching tv.

you opened your eyes to ask san which series he wanted to start today to already see him fast asleep again, breathing softly with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

you smiled at the sight and moved closer to him, hearing a content sigh leave him before your own eyes grew heavy and you were back to sleep.

the second time san woke, it was to the smell of waffles and syrup.

padding his way into the kitchen to see you moving happily, plopping the cooked dough on two plates as you hum and move your body side to side.

he leaned his head against the wall and held back a laugh, bit down on his lip and smiled at the sight of you cooking and dancing so happily.

“did you make some for me, too?”

you jumped at the sound of his voice, your screeched “jesus christ!” making a loud laugh escape him.

he quickly made his way over to you, hugging you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled good morning to you.

“you weren’t kidding about the snow,” you tell him, craning your neck back to look at him all wide-eyed and surprised. “there’s so much!”

“i know, right,” he says, opening his mouth with a pleading look in his eye; you roll your own but can’t resist popping a piece of waffle in his mouth, making sure to douse it in syrup first.

he hums happily at the taste before detaching himself from you, helping you clean up and finish the waffles before ushering you both away from the kitchen.

you don’t leave your spot from the couch all day, only ever leaving for pee breaks or to refill your hot chocolate mugs.

your body rested atop his, your head on his chest and legs between his as you listen to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

the fireplace was crackling and your favorite christmas candle was burning, the freezing storm outside a stark contrast to the warmth inside your apartment.

“are you falling asleep?” you hear san mumble, your heavy eyes shooting open at the teasing in his voice.

“no,” you whine guiltily, a pout on your lips that he can’t help but kiss.

but he also can’t help when, a few moments later, he laughs upon noticing your breaths turned even and body relaxed against his.

he takes the blanket from the back of the couch and places it on your sleeping form gently, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he also succumbs to a mid-afternoon nap.

song mingi - christmas eve date

“maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“we already paid for it, baby.”

“do we really wanna crack our heads open the night before christ-”

your boyfriend tugged on your hand and brought you onto the ice despite your protests, your hand tightly grabbing onto his.

“mingi!”

his deep chuckle echoes through the cold air, steadying your shaky legs as you two begin to navigate on the ice.

you and mingi spent this christmas eve finishing the last bits of shopping for tomorrow, dragging him from store to store for the perfect gift for his mother.

your day was packed full of visiting both your families tomorrow, the first big holiday since you guys started dating before going to his friend’s for a christmas slumber party.

your boyfriend took one look at the ice skating rink after hours of shopping and waiting on line and knew you guys had to try it; you, however, were much more hesitant.

“i’m scared.”

“don’t be, baby, c’mon,” his deep voice whines, pulling you closer and holding onto your cold hand tighter. “i’m not gonna let you fall.”

“i think i’m more concerned about you falling,” you admit quietly, mingi rolling his eyes before he lets go of you.

you stutter on the unfamiliar ground beneath you, arms flailing and voice squealing. you’re almost positive you’re about to fall back on your ass before he loops his arm around your waist, losing his balance for a second before stabilizing.

he can only smirk at the look on your face, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed red as he raises his eyebrow at you.

“me falling?” he asks sarcastically, a scoff leaving your mouth as you stick your tongue out at him.

the more time you spent on the ice, the more you got comfortable.

you never let go of mingi’s hand but he also never tried to let go of yours, both of you skating around the rink and laughing when a certain little boy kept looping you guys.

“i swear the little shit’s doing it on purpose,” mingi growled lowly, your arm knocking into him as you suppressed the urge to laugh; it took the kid doing it three more times before almost knocking into you that mingi told him he was on the naughty list and wasn’t getting presents tomorrow.

“you can’t just say that to little kids, mingi,” you chastise as you both take off your skates an hour later, your toes aching and hands freezing.

“he was being a showoff and almost hit you.”

you roll your eyes before throwing him a blank look, the soft look in his eye one you can’t stay mad at long - especially when he drags you off to the hot chocolate stand a block over.

you two ended the night with mugs of hot chocolate and a gingerbread cookie to share, mingi feeding you every bite before wiping the crumbs from your cold lips.

“let’s get you home now before you freeze, baby.”

jung wooyoung - first christmas

you weren’t sure what to expect for your first christmas with wooyoung.

your first valentine’s day had been surprisingly romantic, a home-cooked meal from wooyoung that resulted in you realizing your boyfriend had talent that rivaled a professional chefs.

your first birthday celebration with him was just as fun as it was embarrassing, him serenading you at the restaurant along with the staff and making your cheeks turn pink.

your first thanksgiving was spent with his friends who you’d grown to love, watching as him and san battled over who got to break the wishbone with seonghwa.

something they all had in common that, while wooyoung was always sweet and loving and kind, they were extremely chaotic. something almost always happened that created some sort of disturbance in the holiday.

he hadn’t known you were allergic to tomatoes, so the sauce he made on valentine’s day made your lips blow up.

he’d knocked over his soda when they placed your birthday cake down at the restaurant, promptly soaking the table cloth and you.

him and san couldn’t agree on the wishbone so they both broke it into several pieces, at least ten minutes of the meal spent picking shards of bone off the floor so no one stepped on it.

that’s why you were surprised when christmas morning was... peaceful.

he woke you with a kiss on the lips and a lowly mumbled, “merry christmas, love,” the two of you lounging around in bed for so long, you were almost late for an early dinner at his parent’s house.

wooyoung at his childhood home showed you a nice side to the boy and it was one that you loved a lot; it was every bit as loud and crazy as the other holidays you’d had with him.

him and his mom’s identical laugh and his younger siblings and cousins running around like crazy. the food nearly went up into flames because wooyoung forgot to take it out of the oven and to top it all of, you both forgot the gifts at home.

but it was still one of the best christmases you’ve ever had.

looking up at wooyoung as you both sat on the couch and smiling softly at him, kissing his cheek as he tightened his arm around you and hummed contently against your head.

“how was your christmas, baby?” he whispered in your ear, a smile lighting up your face as you met his gaze.

“it was perfect... thanks to you,” you mumble shyly, a smirk crossing his lips as he swallows down a wise-ass remark and, instead, pecks your cheek sweetly.

choi jongho - gingerbread house

you hadn’t met to start it as a competition - the deal at the store was simply buy one gingerbread house kit, get one free.

but when jongho saw them both sitting on the kitchen table a few days before christmas, he had challenged you and you couldn’t refuse.

it’s why you’re both currently in the predicament you’re in, sat at opposite ends of the table with christmas music on and a merry cookie candle burning to get you in the competitive christmas spirit.

“oh... wow. interesting use of the jelly beans,” you say to jongho, peeking at his house and feeling dread pool in the pit of your stomach - how did he get them in such a perfectly straight line?

“too bad they’re the most disgusting candy in there.”

jongho let out a scoff as he eyed your house, holding back a laugh at the icing lining the roof of your house.

“interesting pattern on your roof. were you going for the runny look?”

your mouth dropped open and you did what any mature person would do in a gingerbread house competition - taking the nearest bag of candy and flinging it at your boyfriend’s head.

a look of shock and mock anger crossed his face before he shook his head.

your eyes widened when you saw him rise from his seat and you immediately took off, trying to run into the living room before he quickly caught you around the waist.

you giggled and flailed in his hold as he demanded an apology from you, demanded for you to tell him that his use of jelly beans was smart and that they weren’t a disgusting addition to his house.

even though you have a distaste for them, you love your boyfriend, so you rose up on your tippy toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“you did a good job. i did better but you did good, too.”

“we’re not even done so i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you were able to last at the table for 30 more minutes before a quarrel broke out again, this time your bag of candy bouncing off his gingerbread roof.

your mouth dropped open when it messed up his icing and he could tell by the way your face paled that you thought you really messed up now; it’s why he simply plucked the tiny part of his own chimney off and took a bite out of it, a loud laugh leaving you as you ran over to plop down on his lap.

you opened your mouth awaitingly and he narrowed his eyes in mock thought, placing the cookie in your mouth when you whined a tiny “please,” that made a smile light up his face.

despite the hard work and fleeting motivation, neither of you had any issue taking your houses apart to eat them and all of the candy - minus the jelly beans that jongho made sure to set aside for himself.

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii

#idk how i managed to finish this with last night's ttb christmas miracle #but #i couldnt not do *something* for christmas #hehehe #happy holidays everyone <3 #ateez #ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff #seonghwa fluff #yunho fluff #yeosang fluff #san fluff #mingi fluff #wooyoung fluff #jongho fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Carry Me Home

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: John, Scott, Virgil

Back to back rescues is a recipe for exhaustion. Luckily, Scott’s got an eye in the sky looking out for him.

A random discussion with @janetm74 about how much we love sleepy Scott fics somehow turned into this... Well, it feels like it’s been a while since I posted any fluff, so here you go.

John didn’t have alarms rigged to alert him just before his eldest brother crashed out, although at times that certainly sounded like an appealing prospect. Maybe one day he’d implement it, considering Scott’s penchant for working until he dropped – literally – but for now it remained a vague concept in the back of his mind.

Today was one day where it might be useful. It was, he supposed, fortunate that the rest of his brothers had just returned from their respective rescues, leaving him with only Scott to monitor as his big brother packed up after his own rescue. If he’d been distracted by another brother, or some new stream of important data that needed instant attention, he wouldn’t have caught the signs in time. As it was, the only thing on his conscious radar at that moment was Scott, and John saw the moment his older brother’s vitals plummeted.

His immediate reaction was panic, his heart jumping up to land in his throat as Scott’s blood pressure and heart rate dropped from its high, adrenaline-fuelled state. But Scott didn’t keel over, or faint, or outwardly show any reaction at all, and logic sidled its way in before John did something unadvisable.

This was Scott’s third rescue in the past twenty-four hours. None of them had been easy, but this final one had been particularly physically demanding, with his brother clambering in and around a large and challenging area of craggy rocks - in a couple of cases having to carry a rescuee while doing so. John was also aware that Scott hadn’t had much by way of sleep, and while he hadn’t been tracking his brother’s every move, he suspected food probably hadn’t featured as much as it should have done, either.

It was the perfect storm.

He watched the camera feed closely as Scott packed away the last of his harness equipment before sitting down heavily in his pilot seat. A dirty, tired hand rubbed at his face, leaving streaks on the skin in an admittance John knew Scott wouldn’t have made if he’d realised he was being watched. The yawn, splitting his brother’s face in two and beading moisture in the corner of his scrunched closed eyes, was the last straw.

Scott was not piloting anywhere like that.

Pulling up Thunderbird One’s controls took barely a thought. By the time Scott’s weary hands rested on the levers, ready to guide his ‘bird into the air, John had locked him out and activated her remote pilot.

It only took a second for Scott to realise that Thunderbird One’s controls weren’t responding to him, but a second was far too long for a man who lived and breathed flight. John let his hologram flicker into view as Scott grumbled and poked at the controls again, clearly not yet realising that the reason they weren’t working was because John had decreed it.

His brother jumped when he noticed him.

“Everything’s fine, John,” he said, although he was still scowling at his ‘bird’s controls as if he thought there was something wrong. “I’ll be in the air in a minute.”

“I know,” John agreed pleasantly, and was relieved to see the scowling blue eyes turn suspiciously towards him. Scott was exhausted, but could at least still do the bare minimum of realise when a brother was up to something. “Strap yourself in.” Scott gestured at his shoulder harness, and John barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “The turbulence straps,” he clarified. While the shoulder harnesses did their job in most conditions, Thunderbird One’s pilot seat also came with additional security in the case of heavy turbulence – or, in a worst-case scenario, a crash landing. Considering Scott was undeniably more creeping further towards sleep every moment – proven by another yawn which he couldn’t stifle – John wanted him fully strapped in.

“Don’t need ‘em,” Scott grumbled. “Conditions are clear.”

“Scott.” John had mastered the disappointed parent voice years ago out of necessity, and sometimes even Scott reacted to it. Today, with the older man more asleep than awake, the stars aligned in John’s favour, and the turbulence straps were fastened. Scott still grumbled, but John didn’t care as long as he was secure.

“What is the point of this?” his brother demanded, failing to hide yet another yawn. His eyes were half-lidded at best, and another glance at his vitals showed that it was only Scott’s stubbornness that was keeping him awake. There was absolutely no way he was fit to fly, and John was going to enforce that.

“Relax,” he said, keeping his voice level and low. “I’ll get you home, big brother.”

“Wha-?” Blue eyes shot open. “John, what are-”

John didn’t let him finish his sentence before powering up Thunderbird One’s VTOL and lifting his brother’s ‘bird – complete with said brother safely ensconced within – into the sky.

“You’re dead on your feet, Scott,” he pointed out calmly. “Get some rest. You’re in no state to pilot.”

“I’m fine,” Scott tried to protest, but yet another yawn interrupted him and he involuntarily slumped back in the seat. John took the opportunity to ignite Thunderbird One’s rear boosters and accelerate her up through the sound barrier.

“Scott.” This time it wasn’t the disappointed parent, but rather the wheedling little brother. Scott was always weak to wheedling little brothers, and this was no exception. He slumped back further in the chair, head resting back against the headrest.

“Fine,” he huffed, finally accepting that this was a debate he was never going to win. Another yawn crossed his face and his eyelids fluttered closed for several moments before they were wrenched open again. “Just for now.”

The fact that he had caved at all proved how unfit to fly he was.

Blue eyes fluttered closed again, but this time they didn’t re-open. Scott’s vitals stabilised themselves, far too low for consciousness to be on the cards at all, and John kept an eye on the camera feed as Scott’s chest rose and fell in slow and even breaths. His brother badly needed the sleep.

After a moment, during which he brought Thunderbird One to a safe, comfortable cruising speed of Mach seven and confirmed nothing was in her flight path, he opened a line to Tracy Island, and his immediate younger brother.

Virgil wasn’t long back from a rescue himself, and still had a smudge of grime on his nose that no-one had pointed out to him yet.

“Another rescue?” he asked. He looked somewhat weary himself, although far from Scott’s own level of exhaustion. John shook his head.

“No,” he promised. “Scott’s fallen asleep.”

That perked Virgil up straight away. “In Thunderbird One?” he demanded, incredulously. John gave a wry smile in response.

“I’m in control,” he assured him. “Scott’s exhausted, but safe.” To prove it, he sent along a copy of Scott’s suit telemetry, which was currently reading vitals consistent with a deep sleep. Virgil scrutinised them closely for several moments before sighing.

“He needs to stop pushing himself so hard,” he despaired quietly, before collecting himself. “What’s Thunderbird One’s ETA?”

John glanced across at the figures. “Half an hour,” he said. “Scott’s probably not going to wake up before she lands.” He hoped he didn’t. Scott needed actual sleep, not a half hour nap in his Thunderbird. “Judging by his vitals, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sleeps right through.”

Virgil’s eyes glanced over the data again, and his lips thinned in agreement.

“Get him home, John,” he said. “I’ll take it from there.”

“F.A.B,” John agreed. He didn’t close the line with Virgil, but he did turn away from his younger brother to instead watch his older brother as he continued to guide Thunderbird One home.

As predicted, Scott slept right through the landing half an hour later. There was a slight stir as she decelerated and rotated, but his eyes stayed closed and he remained slumped bonelessly in his seat as John settled the Thunderbird on her castors and allowed her to roll back to the hangar.

Virgil was ready and waiting on the gantry when John let his hologram flicker back into view.

“Still asleep?” the middle Tracy asked as the Thunderbird came to a stop. John nodded. “Okay, I’ve got this.” Virgil stepped forwards onto the extending loading ramp, and as he neared the cockpit, John disengaged the pilot seat so that it swung out to meet him. His younger brother didn’t hesitate, reaching out and releasing all the straps and harnesses holding Scott in place before scooping the still-sleeping man up into his arms.

That was, in theory, the end of John’s domain. With Scott safe and still slumbering away in Virgil’s arms, he was the dark-haired Tracy’s responsibility now, and his hologram stopped projecting so as not to distract Virgil.

Still, John watched as the platform retracted, bringing his brothers back to the gantry, and Virgil walked across the metal towards the elevator. In his arms, Scott shifted, a sleepy murmur indicating that his sleep wasn’t quite so deep any more. Virgil was no stranger to handling him, however, and a small, fond, smile crept onto John’s face as his younger brother murmured something quiet and melodic.

The microphones couldn’t pick up exactly what it was Virgil was saying – or, John suspected, humming – but whatever it was seemed to do the trick as Scott settled back down.

There were no blind spots in Thunderbird Five’s coverage of the villa. John didn’t normally pay close attention to areas outside of the den, kitchen and hangars, largely content to let his family get on with their personal lives without him spying on them, but today he tracked Virgil the entire way from the hangars to Scott’s bedroom. Virgil was frowning a little by the time he got there, clearly a little suspicious at how little effort it had taken to keep their big brother asleep, and the same unease filtered through John’s mind.

Was Scott really just that exhausted, or had they missed something?

John watched the feed like a hawk as Virgil gently stripped off Scott’s uniform, revealing the plain undershirt and shorts, and his telemetry data disappeared. Nothing new flagged up as a point of concern, except for the ongoing fact that Scott barely stirred. Virgil rested a hand on their brother’s chest, and instantly made a face.

The next moment, Scott’s underclothes were also being stripped away, leaving him in just his underwear, and Virgil was dropping them on the floor by the uniform judgementally. Despite the underlying concern, John smirked a little. Scott had done a lot of physical work on the last mission; it made sense for his clothes to have absorbed the sweat that came with that and he didn’t envy Virgil for dealing with that at all.

Pyjamas were retrieved, but before Virgil began the unenviable task of trying to dress their sleeping brother without waking him, a familiar yellow light skipped over Scott’s body. John immediately tapped in to the medscanner as Virgil scrutinised the results; just like the suit telemetry, it simply flagged up sheer exhaustion, but with a small caution for dehydration added in as well.

Shoulders slumping in what John assumed was relief, Virgil eased the still-sleeping figure of their brother into loose pyjamas and tugged at the comforter until Scott was nestled snugly in bed. Just before he pulled it all the way up to Scott’s chin Virgil hesitated for a brief moment, and then a monitor was being carefully attached to Scott’s pyjama top.

John tapped into that as well, relieved that Virgil had thought to attach one, and immediately got the data streaming straight into Thunderbird Five for him to check periodically. Just like the scan, it currently declared no causes for concern, barring an advisory for mild dehydration, and a little bit of tension bled from John’s shoulders.

Seemingly satisfied, Virgil then pulled the comforter the rest of the way, tucking Scott in firmly, only for their brother to stir again. The pianist’s hand immediately threaded into brown locks, and John watched fondly as Virgil ran his fingers gently through Scott’s hair soothingly. The microphones in Scott’s room were more sensitive, adjusted for quiet night time conversations, and while earlier John hadn’t been able to hear how Virgil settled their brother, now his voice resonated through Thunderbird Five.

John recognised it instantly. How could he not, when he’d heard it so many times as a child, first from Mom, and then overheard as Scott did his best to fill in the gaps after the avalanche? A quiet and gentle lullaby from years long gone by did the trick to settle Scott again, but Virgil didn’t stop singing even after Scott stopped stirring.

That, John decided, was his cue to leave. Scott was home safe and in good hands – and he had the readings from the monitor to keep an eye on if he wanted to check up on him. There was no point lurking around and listening to a brother who may or may not realise he was still watching.

He dismissed the feed just as Virgil finished a verse, suddenly plunging Thunderbird Five into silence before the quiet background hum of his ‘bird’s ever-running machinery registered again. A glance at the monitor readings brought his attention back to the dehydration caution, and John checked to see who was near the kitchen. Virgil, no doubt, would be staying with Scott for a little while yet, but there was no harm in sending someone else up with some electrolyte drinks for when Scott finally woke.

Well, no harm as long as he made it perfectly clear to the rest of the family that Scott was getting some long overdue and well-deserved rest, and anyone who disturbed him would find out exactly how creative John could get with technology.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderfluff #carry me home

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gintokisimp · 4 years ago

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Onehundred Ways to use a Sword - Chapter 1: Swordplay (R-18)

Swordplay (R-18)

Hey! Bringing you some short GinTsu smut today! How could you implement a certain sword into specific activites? Find out here lol

Genre: No Plot Porn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 1,789

The sound of something grating on the ligneous floor tore her out of the act.

Gintoki had reached for the wooden sword that fell on the ground earlier when he got rid of his belts.

„Gintoki.. nnhg.. what - what‘re ya doin‘?“

Tsukuyo tilted her head, retreating from his demanding lips. She opened her eyes and met with his crimson glaring orbs. The pure beast in them startled her, but not out of fear. She was amazed how he still desired her like that.

„Relax, I have an idea.“

Gintoki had caged her against the wall, furiously storming her with wild kisses to her face and neck. Her Kimono was already brushed off her shoulders and he delighted at the sight of her full breasts, kneading them hastily.

Her eyes fell down to the sword in his hand and she noticed his throbbing erection peeking out of his open pants, greeting her, ready to get buried somewhere.

When did he..?

She couldn’t remember his hands ever leaving her breasts, but it didn’t matter anyways. The faster the better, she was excited to feel him.

Gintoki kneeled down between her legs dragging his lips across her nape and his hand wandered down under her kimono. She gasped slightly, his hand was cold on her uncovered folds.

“Oh.”

His eyes widened, shocked by the direct contact. He obviously had expected to feel something else there.

“Where are your pants?” The seductive undertone made her neck prickle.

Tsukuyo blushed, maybe her idea was stupid after all. But she couldn’t help herself, being too horny for her own good in the last few days, eagerly awaiting his return.

“D..don’t know, m..-maybe I forgot-t them.”

Gintoki leaned back, away from her touch deprived skin.

“And you’re going out like this? Are ya crazy?”

“I was just picking you up.”

“Is this some sort of twisted welcome home present?”

His forehead furrowed and his expression changed into anger.

Tsukuyo flinched. He hates it.

The anger disappeared faster than she could react.

“If yes, I’m not complaining.” He smirked, eyes sparkling.

“..just wanted to greet my husband properly, what’s wrong ‘bout that?”

She hadn’t seen him in weeks, as he was working out of town for a bigger job. Her sleep was bad without him by her side, so all she wanted was to embrace him and feel him closer than humanly possible.

Gintoki apparently felt the same, jumping her as soon as the doors closed behind them, not even taking off the shoes first.

“Nothing.” He continued smiling and inched the sword closer, placing it where her ass touched the hardwood floor.

“Pull up your knees.”

He whispered in her ear, adding a devious notch to it. His fingers pinched her nipple once and she flatly squeaked, squirming under the short sensation. The deep voice so damn close to her sent fiery shivers down her spine and she obeys without a second thought.

“Good.”

Gintoki's rough hand left her nipple to brush the kimono aside and she protested silently, catching his attention.

“You don’t want me to stop, don’tcha? Well, too bad.”

Without a warning, she felt the polished surface of the sword gliding along her thighs,

catching a grip in the hollow of her knees. Gintoki promptly pushed her upwards against the wall, elevating her until her face was on level with his.

He leaned closer to her, pressing the sword to the underside of her boobs, squeezing them upwards and gave her a long, tender kiss.

With no way of closing or moving her legs, his dick grinded freely along her exposed private parts.

The slight sensation drove her mad and the thought of him filling her up with that, made her dripping wet, slowly coating his length with her fluids.

Gintoki continues to rock his hips against her, moaning in her mouth until her hands clutched to his shirt, tugging him closer. He let go of her lips to catch some much needed air.

Tsukuyos head started to spin, as he reached down to latch onto her neck.

Surprised, she gasped and her hips surged up, deepening the contact and he groaned in response. The salacious sounds coming from their grinding distracted him and he retreated from her skin and just stared into her eyes, not stopping the movement.

Tsukuyo felt the hard sword digging into her ribcage and she jolted forward to lean on her legs and caught his lips again, but he carefully broke free to move to her jawline.

„Mh.. Tsukki, I hear you’re enjoying this. I‘m sure this will be nice.“

His kisses slowly moved upwards to her ear.

„What do you want me to do now?“ The silent low voice made her shudder in anticipation.

„I..I don’t know, you decide“ She replied weakly.

Gintoki clicked his tongue.

“Uncommon of you“ She felt his lips moving against her earlobe.

“Mm..maybe.”

„Are you sure that I should decide?“

She nodded ever so slightly and Gintoki leaned back as his eyes fell down on his cock sliding over her with his gaze dripping of lust. His blatant staring made her flush and even so she could physically not get any wetter, she felt like releasing a flood at any second.

„How I about I just fuck you until you beg me to stop?“ He whispered, lost in trance by the lewd sight.

“..w..ever you want.”

Her eyes were half closed, her whole body trembled. She was so ready for him to do almost anything to her. Just do it already and quit talking!

“But before I can do that, how about you touch yourself?”

Her eyes flung open and he looked at her with a smirk.

“wha - what?!”

„I can’t do that, my hands are occupied as you see.”

To emphasize his words, he pressed the sword a harder against her, pushing her a little farther up.

“I’m not even able to touch your beautiful titts..” His gaze fell down, hungry.

Tsukuyo lifted up her arm and squeezed it between her legs and the sword to reach down and slightly touch her swollen knob. She twitched slightly and he smiled.

“I’ll help you, I can talk you into coming.”

He leaned onto her again, nibbling on the skin under her ear.

“Did ya miss me, honey?” The added groaning in his voice incited her fingers to circle around her clit a little faster.

“Did ya miss me fucking you? Sure feels like ya did.” Of course she did, the stress relief was great and he was just too good at this to not miss it.

She stopped for a second and reached for his dick, aligning it at her entrance but he just laughed in her ear.

“Oi, not yet, that’s too early”

He could push in anytime, but he didn’t and that angered her.

Instead, he only inserted the tip, moving ever so slightly, taunting her.

Tsukuyo whimpered, she wanted more.

“Continue” She did as ordered, amplifying the pressure on herself, speeding up the rhythm. Her breath became ragged and her eyes closed, bathed in waves of pleasure. Her moans increased in volume as he proceeded to whisper indescribable things in her ear.

“Don’t forget your nipples, honey.” He commanded.

Everything he said, her body did automatically. His voice was too irresistible.

Her free hand reached up to pinch and twist her nipple, adding to the sensations completely overwhelming her.

Tsukuyo's moaning reached the significant higher tones that he recognized as her being close.

So very close.

“Tsukki,”

His breath in her ear carried her name barely noticeable.

“I wanna fuck you so hard r’now, plase cum for me.”

And with that, she snapped, screaming out the start of her orgasm.

In that exact moment he pushed in, bottoming out, hitting her cervix. The sudden pain only added to the intensity of her high and she blacked out for a moment, but the harsh pressure against her pulled her back quickly. He had started to fuck her relentlessly.

Completely open to his thrusts, his hip bones hit her soft cheeks again and again with disgusting noises. His movements already turned convulsive, however his tempo didn’t falter as he groaned her name in an attempt to finish quicker.

Holding up her weight, his arms were tense, and Tsukuyo reached her hands to grab a hold of his strained moving biceps, digging her nails into them.

The sudden pain unhinged his groaning and looked up to her. Gintoki's eyes softened as they met and he leaned closer to catch her lips for a fierce kiss.

With one prodigiously hard thrust, his orgasm overcame him and he twitched inside of her, trying to ram into her even deeper. His thrusts became more sloppily and he finally sighed, halting the movement with sweat dripping from his forehead.

Gintoki leaned forward and touched her forehead with his own.

“I really really love you..” He whispered under his hefty breathing and Tsukuyo blushed furiously, not used to this affection after weeks of being alone.

“Love ya too” She replied, almost too silent to hear, but he understood and smiled.

Gintoki pulled out and their mixed fluids dripped out of her wide spread legs down on his dick as he watched in awe.

Tsukuyo started to fidget after a while and it dragged him out of his trance. Carefully, he let her down, and removed the sword, but kept it in one hand.

Breathing heavily, he rested his head on the wall next to her head.

“Uhh.. why are you so hot?! Looking at me with those big round eyes when I’m about to cum, I can’t take it anymore” Weakly, he banged against the wall with his free hand.

He turned around, slumped to the wall, barely keeping himself from just dropping to the floor.

Tsukuyo was suddenly towering over him.

“Exhausted from that? Bet ya wouldn’t last a day in Hyakka training if that’s already knockin’ ya out.”

“Oi oi, this is more exhausting than it looks like!” He scowled.

“If it’s exhausting, why are ya doing that?”

Gintoki tilted his head, confused.

“Why? Because you like it! But you know what, I’m not complaining, I promised you something, remember?”

I will satisfy you until the day I die.

He fumbled on the bright silver object on his finger and Tsukuyo felt her heartbeat quicken, unconsciously bringing her hands together to feel her own ring. It still felt surreal to her. She quickly changed the subject.

“Ya just a weakling.”

“Hey! It takes a lot of strength to hold you up like that and some firm muscles in my ass to impale ya like that. That’s a lot harder than hyakka training!”

“We’ll see about that.”

Gintoki blinked rapidly.

“Eh?!”

#gintama #gintama fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #gintoki smut #smut #gintoki #tsukuyo #gintoki x tsukuyo #gintsu #gintsukki #gintama couple #銀月

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mrsgiovanna · 4 years ago

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The Aftermath

Today was really a day for self-indulgence. This details Bria's story roughly six months after Giorno becomes don. It's somewhat of a long read, and just my musings for her character development. This takes off (and fixes) where this left off.

It'd been almost six months… since her world was turned upside down, and Bria had been thrust into the upper echelons of Passione. It’s been busier than ever before, implementing the new rules and securing new, more legitimate means of generating an income seeing that the drug trade had come to a grinding halt. Giorno and Mista had slipped effortlessly into their roles of Don and underboss, despite some of the resistance they had run into, the new rules of Passione were effected. She walked about the quiet hallways ready to go home for the evening when she was pulled into a ridiculous conversation in the study of Giorno’s villa.

“Bri, come here and settle an argument for us… which is better, cake or ice cream?” asked Mista with a laugh.

“Well why not both? Ice cream cake… that way everyone can get what they want… you guys really arguing over something like this?”

“I wouldn’t say arguing, just discussing… say, do you want to join us for dinner? If you’re not busy that is…” suggested Giorno tentatively. His relationship with Bria had improved since his birthday, but there was a lot weighing on his mind, and he didn’t quite know how best to broach the topic with her, having already discussed the issues with Mista and Polnareff, it was only her and later on Trish that he would need to speak to.

“Oh, umm, I would have loved to, but I’m really tired today, I wouldn’t be very good company… but I hope you guys have fun,” replied the young girl with a wary smile. Just as she turned to leave, the don exchanged glances with Mista and made another suggestion in the hopes that Bria would stay a bit longer.

“Pizza? Lucio makes the best one, I could ask him to quickly make some for us… come on, you’re tired, so relax a bit, before you go home… at least you won’t have to worry about dinner when you get there,”

“Alright, thanks Gio, I appreciate it, so what are guys up to? Other than fighting about desserts?” asked Bria, gently plopping herself onto the couch that Giorno had in the corner of his study. Mista answered that they were just about done mapping out the new distribution of territories and were going to plan on how best to mediate some of the unrest that was bubbling under the surface before it blew up into something that could not be contained. Bria was about to offer a few solutions when the underboss cut her off, explaining that she had done enough for the day. Bria smiled weakly at the gunslinger, not wanting to argue with him out of respect. Despite their carefree conversations, Bria had come to admire Mista and viewed him in the same light as she did the other members of the initial team Bucciarati.

Just as Bria settled in comfortably she heard a loud noise that sounded like it came from the bookshelf she was positioned in front of. The split second of shared shock painted on both Giorno’s and Mista’s faces had confirmed they heard it too but tried to dismiss it when Bria brought it to their attention.

“Guys I know you heard that… what is it?” asked Bria, activating her stand, she darted about the suspicious area. The panic that poured into Giorno spilled over, rushing to Bria’s side he grabbed her arm before she could attempt to take advantage of a weakness she had found in the structure.

“Giorno, I think it’s time, I’ve asked him, they’re on their way… Bria sit down,” Mista spoke while he turned his chair around to face the pair. The young girl searched Giorno’s face for reassurance to which he nodded silently, gently placing her arm back at her side. She sat down, her stand still present, and looked at the two men, encouraging them to continue. Giorno turned his attention towards the balcony overlooking the tumultuous ocean, mirroring the turmoil in his mind…

Six months ago…

“Giorno, are you sure you want to do this? To see them in that condition?” the new boss of Passione simply nodded, gazing at the apparition who popped up from the room in coco jumbo that he now inhabited while guarding the arrow. Examining the shiny object that had allowed him to defeat the previous don of Passione, Giorno’s resolve was absolute. In the days that passed after Bria’s outburst in Rome, he had been wracking his brain for some way to utilize his requiem stand to make things right again, materializing GER on many occasions to unpack the nuances of his new ability and one line had jumped out at him from what the sentient being had explained to him- reset to zero.

“I have to try Mr. Polnareff, if it doesn’t work then I’ll have to accept that, but I have to try. If it works… perhaps…” Polnareff smiled knowingly, looking at the young man’s conflicted expression, deciding not to intervene, he wanted Giorno to work through his feelings himself, so he remained silent just as he did when Bria had poured her heart out to him. Even though his physical form was beyond salvaging, his spirit remained safely contained in coco jumbo, and ever since the events of Rome, he had become somewhat of a godfather to the band of young mafiosi.

“Giorno, they’re ready for us,”

“Thanks Mista, let’s go,” with that, Giorno clutched the arrow close to chest and picked up coco jumbo to go to the private mortuary that held Bucciarati, Abbacchio and Narancia. Even though they had mentally prepared themselves, seeing their fallen comrades in that condition was unnerving. Blinking the moisture away from his eyes, Giorno materialized his stand and pierced himself with the arrow, and shortly GER had materialized in all their golden glory.

“Who shall I start with, Giorno?” asked GER in a calm even tone.

“Start with Bucciarati,” Giorno’s aura had completely changed, being bathed in a golden glow, he was determined and confident that this was the correct course of action. Using his life shot ability in this requiem form on Bucciarati, the young Capos form glowed with the same golden aura and in a few minutes his eyes shot open revealing unfocused cerulean orbs. Mista and Polnareff couldn’t believe what they were witnessing, stunned to silence, they watched Bucciarati sit up- his gasps for air being the only sound to fill the room.

“B-Bucciarati… is it really you?” Mista’s voice was a whisper, and Bucciarati continued to breathe heavily, completely confused about his surroundings.

“Where am I? I thought I- I saw you-”

“Bucciarati, you’re back in Naples, it’s been 2 days since we defeated Diavolo and… well, I tried to reverse the damage that was done to you and it seems to have worked- Bucciarati, you’re alive… again,” explained Giorno as he draped a blanket around Bucciarati whose skin still had a slight blue tinge. He didn’t wait for a response from Bruno, knowing that it was going to take a bit of time for the raven haired man to reorient himself. The process was repeated twice more for Abbacchio and Narancia who were just as confused and unsettled, but in the interest of safety, Giorno wanted to move them to the area in the villa that he prepared specifically to house them had his plan been successful. With that they were all bundled into the awaiting armored vehicles and were taken to the villa.

Being given some time to clean themselves up, Giorno himself was surprised by how physically well they had all taken to effectively being resurrected, emotionally however, they were all in a state of shock and disbelief. Sitting around the table in the expansive concealed wing of the villa, one person’s absence was painfully obvious.

“Where’s Bria? Abbacchio’s gritty voice broke the silence as he bored holes into Giorno’s stern face with his honeyed-amethyst eyes.

“I haven’t told her yet… I-”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to involve her just yet,” explained Bucciarati, “I’ve spoken to Giorno he tells me that she’s actively been targeted since he’s come into power… until we apprehend Diavolo’s hidden apologists, it’s not safe for anyone outside this room to know about our existence,”

“He’s right,” added Polnareff, who had mostly been quiet through the events that recently occurred.

“Then it’s settled… whatever happens in this room stays here until its decided otherwise,” the room went silent once more after Giorno spoke, although he felt as if his heart was pounding in his ears, unsure of whether he was making the right decision or not.

Present day

“What’s the matter? You both are acting very weird all of a sudden,” asked Bria, slowly starting to lose her patience with the pair.

“Roughly six months ago, when we first got back from Rome, I did something unimaginable… I…”

“Gio, whatdid you do?”

“I was able to bring back Bucciarati, Abbacchio and Narancia,”

“Of course Gio, we brought them back from Rome… I was there… are you alright? Are you coming down with something?” she asked, leaning towards him with a raised hand to feel his forehead.

“I’m fine, Bria, listen carefully to me… I mean that I was able to heal them into existence again… they’re all alive,”

The young girl’s eyes widened, rapidly blinking away tears, willing herself not to cry in front of them. She felt so many emotions all at once, relief that the people she held dearest were all alive; confusion regarding how he was able to play round with the creation of life in that manner and an odd mixture of disappointment and rage… after everything, he had lied to her, again.

“I don’t understand… have I not proven myself to this godforsaken organization? To you?” her voice cut through the tense atmosphere, as her wings and markings turned black prompting Mista to get into a defensive position.

“It’s not about that Bria, Bucciarati-” Giorno wanted to explain but was cut off by the livid girl.

“Bucciarati? Who’s actually running this organization? Don’t hide behind him, you made your choice,”

“Bria, that’s not fair, just stop, that’s an order!” Mista’s command had seeming fell on deaf ears, he had summoned his stand and was ready to attack had Giorno not extended his arm, preventing him from taking any further actions.

Giorno had summoned GE, bracing himself for Bria’s attack when a familiar zipping sound was heard and strong arms pulled her back, sending her careening backwards. Even though she was told about them, she was still rendered speechless by seeing all of them there.

“Piccolina, please… just calm down… look at me, copy my breathing… there, that’s it, - deep breaths…” said Bucciarati, coaching the young girl through her state of panic, holding her trembling shoulders as the black markings on her skin faded to white again and tears fell relentlessly down her face.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through during these months? I… blamed myself and replayed those days over and over again, and you were all here…”

Narancia, who was overwhelmed by the atmosphere attempted to help Bria off the floor but she just shrank away from him. Exchanging a glance with the former capo, everyone else left the room except for Giorno who began to file out with the rest of them but was stopped by Bucciarati.

“Giorno, this is your office, you don’t have to leave… Bria, call off your stand,” asked Bucciarati, only letting go of her once the white wings and markings had completely vanished. He knew that should she want to escape the situation with her stand still activated, there was little anybody could do to keep up with her.

“I just want to know one thing… between the two of you, you always take decisions that affect me, on my behalf, without thinking to tell me… I’m not a child, I think I’ve proven my loyalty, why am I always left out of these discussions?” she posed her question with a gentle voice, having somewhat regained her composure.

Looking her directly in the eye, Giorno chose his words carefully. “I know… you’re right, and I’m sorry. I can tell though that you know, I see it in the way you carry yourself… you feel them watching you constantly. Which is why Bruno and I decided you didn’t need the added pressure of taking on this burden as well,” He had hoped that his explanation was enough to make her see things from their perspective. She remained quiet, thinking rationally- the gravity of her outburst dawning on her. Despite their relaxed relationship, he was still the don and she had still sought to attack him… anyone else would have viewed it as an act of treason. She looked at them, eyes glossy with unshed tears, lamenting at what a mess it all was.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too, any other boss would have killed me by now… well, it all happened so fast, I think Mista almost did shoot me,”

“I know, I stopped him… look Bria, we’re just asking for you to trust us until we can stabilize everything,”

Carefully considering their request, she had decided to offer them her thoughts that were garnered from her observations.

“I think you guys are going about this the wrong way then… yes, within Passione, Diavolo’s supporters are there, but they’re also terrified of you Gio… the people that have been observing us aren’t from Passione, I highly doubt they’re from any other gang within Italy either… perhaps one of the foreign organizations that supplied us with the narcotics or fueled the sex trade? You had to have expected this to happen when you blocked off one of their most lucrative routes. Yes, our revenue has dropped but so has theirs, it’s only natural that they would want to see who’s behind this, observe us to see if there are any weaknesses to exploit, and strike once they’ve identified one,” Bucciarati regarded the young soldatessa with a kind smile before turning his attention back to the don. He was reminded of why Bria was such a reliable asset to Passione in the first place.

“I guess it’s a waiting game then… who cracks first…”

“Well, it won’t be us,” Giorno responded to Bucciarati’s statement with the same conviction he displayed months ago when he had first entered the gang. Sitting and strategizing in that way felt nostalgic, and for the first time in months, Bria had experienced the kind of excitement she used to before a difficult mission.

Almost 12 000 kilometers south of their position in the city of Cape Town sat the man who had issued the orders to monitor the new leadership of Passione. He carefully examined the photographs sent to him on the wall-mounted screen of his office, stopping on one particularly clear shot of Giorno, Mista and Bria. Staring at the girl’s face, he felt uneasy, as if being visited by an apparition he had long since buried.

“Mr. Kalita… you asked to see me?” the younger man’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Ah, yes, come in Rian, I’ve been pouring over these documents and pictures, it seems that fool had allowed himself to be bested by this boy? And now he’s just doing as he pleases without thinking about the ripple effects… why is one fool being replaced by another…”

“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, as it stands the new boss cannot be matched, not even by you. Nobody understands how his ability works, they just know he cannot be countered,”

“Yet… every ability has a weakness; we just need to find it. Tell me, who is this girl next to him? She seems to be his shadow,”

“Her name is Bria Adal, she’s 16 years old, her mother’s-”

“Her mother’s name is Mira Adal”

“Was… Her mother is dead. Some people call her Passione’s death angel or something, I believe it’s to do with her stand,” Rian’s words seemed to go over the older man’s head after hearing that Mira was no more. Upon being confronted with her name, he understood why the girl had unsettled him so much… he was convinced that she was his daughter. Unable to take in any more information, Kalita dismissed his underling and searched for some old information of his own. Pulling out the battered brown envelope with Mira’s photographs and a few other personal effects of hers from the last draw in his desk, he fished out the picture he had of her. Gazing upon the slightly faded photo and then to the screen, he could see so much of Bria’s mother in her, and the thought had filled him with dread. He had hoped that by severing all ties with Mira after her family had threatened to disown her, he would be sparing her from entering his dark world, little did he know it was that very act that had pushed both her and his child into a life of crime and loss.

Up until that point, Mahin Kalita had lead an interesting life. Born to a relatively wealthy family, his father serving as a diplomat that handled various international affairs, he had lead a charmed life until his father became embroiled in countless scandals and allegations of corruption which he could neither confirm nor deny, eventually he had managed to buy his way out of everything, and Kalita had learned the true power of deception and wealth. Naturally intelligent, he had more than one degree to his name and he had built himself his own little empire, with a myriad of avenues with which to conceal his illicit activities.

After the chaotic rendezvous with Bria’s mother, he had divided his time between Asia and South Africa, managing his affairs carefully enough escape detection. He often thought about his old love, but threw himself into his activities instead, concluding that they were probably happy and well cared for.

Mira was beautiful, gentle and the complete polar opposite of him, she captivated him with her calming presence, and he had wooed her entirely with his imposing character. Good things seldom lasted for him though and her family heavily opposed the relationship given his family’s transgressions, wanting her to marry into a respectable family instead. There existed one problem though… Mira had fallen pregnant. Arranging for her to join her brother who had already established himself in Italy, Mahin assumed that they would have a peaceful life in Rome, but that would not be the case, and now 16 years later, his poor decisions had seemingly come back to haunt him.

Sighing in resignation, he called in his assistant once more and asked to get him on the next flight to Naples.

As Mahin readied himself to make his move, the atmosphere at Villa Giovanna was bright for the first time since Giorno had taken up residence in the sprawling estate. Putting her negative emotions aside, Bria allowed herself to just feel happy for once, thankful for the fact that her precious family had been saved. She perched herself on the balustrade, hugging her knees in the chilly night air while she watched the stunning Naples skyline. She exhaled with a long, shaky sigh, letting go of emotions she didn’t realize she had been bottling over the past few months. Feeling a warmth engulfing her, she turned around to find Giorno gently placing his warm overcoat on her shoulders.

“Sorry, you just looked cold…”

“Oh, Giorno, thank you, I was cold actually,” she awkwardly snuggled into the garment, prompting him to help her adjust herself until she was comfortable. Sheepishly continuing the conversation, “Listen, Gio… I never got the chance to properly apologize to you… or thank you… I don’t even know where to begin, I can’t believe any of this is happening, I…”

“Well… that makes the two of us. There was so much I could have done differently… nonetheless, I’m sorry too,” he had a wise, wistful edge to his demeanor as he spoke, a side of him that Bria was yet to fully discover. She offered him a soft smile and turned her attention back to the sparkly skyline, which almost seemed like it reflected in her own dark glassy eyes. The young don regraded her carefully, as if truly seeing her for the first time. Feeling his eyes on her, she asked him if there was something wrong.

“You just look different, I don’t know what it is…” emerald eyes had examined her carefully, the accompanying smile on his face had made her self-conscious. Averting her gaze, she looked down at herself, trying to pick apart the reasons for him saying what he did.

“I… I don’t know either, everything feels the same, to me, my hair’s grown a bit…”

“Hmm, I guess it’s that…”

“You two, are you coming inside? I’m starving!” Mista called out to the pair who hastily moved indoors to join the rest of their friends, spending the rest of the night catching up and reminiscing about all the chaotic things that they were involved in before Giorno was brought in. The conversations were tinged with sadness when they had the collective realization that all of their best memories had included Fugo as well. They knew that their paths would cross again, and each silently hoped that until then, he would remain safe.

The next few days were just as busy as the last, perhaps even more so, with the return of their friends. Bria and Giorno had made their way to Libeccio to meet with Mista, barely having the chance to seat themselves, they were approached by a tall man with sharp, menacing features.

“You don’t have to be on edge… I mean no harm,” he spoke with an accent that was impossible for them to pin down. They all remained silent, ready to protect themselves should the need arise. Bria stared at him trying to muster up her most intimidating look, when the man decided to continue his speech.

“I’ve come in search of you my dear… Bria Adal, was it?” before continuing any further, he silently eyed the other two men, before redirecting his attention back to the young girl. “There’s no easy way to say this, I’ve come in looking for you because I believe you are my daughter,”

#brigio #self shipping #oc tag #bria adal #don giovanna #giorno x oc #jjba x oc #jjba oc #self ship

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