#and ive been working on it for nine days straight and just want to be done with it so im posting it as is

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter ten: i don't want you like a best friend

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER NINE: TRUTH, DARE, SPIN BOTTLES

warnings: language, self-deprecation, making out like horny teenagers, very light dry humping, blood and stitches, Bucky being feral and a dom

word count: 2.1k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella @lalalalokii

A/N: oh god I love this chapter!! and that's a wrap on guilty as sin? folks!! ive enjoyed writing this fanfic as a form of escapism from exams so much, and the love and support ive received is much more than I was hoping for, and im absolutely in love with every single one of you! there will be a bonus chapter uploaded this time next week, and the very final chapter will come out a bit after that....until then, keep your eyes peeled for a very special, very new surprise that I've been working on!!

The rest of the night is spent with the both of you in flushed silence, both knowing that you stand on the same shore, face to face. But neither takes a step forward. 

Why are you so scared? Where had all your self-confidence gone? But his hands don’t leave you, and neither do yours. You decide to take an early night, reminding Bucky he needs a good night’s sleep if he wants to get better, as if he isn’t already in perfect, tip-top condition, just with some pink marks that will disappear with the moon.

Even the motorcycle ride back to the compound is silent. But not awkward, and you revel in the time you can rest your head against the nape of his neck and just breathe, listening to the sounds of the city pass you by. It’s extremely peaceful, to have Bucky’s warmth envelope you without a single sound to overstimulate after your social battery has run out. When he unclips your helmet for you, his hands are right back on your face.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” The cold wind nips at your cheeks as you stare like you’ve been caught in a lie. But what’s the point in holding out now? In denying what’s clear as day to everyone?

“Okay, maybe we should go inside first, come on.” Bucky’s noticed you shivering, standing there in a summer dress and forgoing common sense in layering for fashion.

“What’s you?” You ask, feigning innocence as a default safety mechanism, as Bucky leads you by the hand to his room. Your heart is in your throat, pounding harder and harder with every step you take towards the bedroom, where it would just be…the two of you. You try and swallow.

“You were starin’ at me while singing that sexy song, doll. I’m not stupid.” He closes the door behind you with his metal arm, and in doing so traps you against it. You stare straight up, heat rising to your cheeks at his inevitable closeness. You need him closer. Your lips part, and the confession flies right out of the red lips he can’t stop staring at.

“Fine! Yes, Bucky. It’s you. You’re the one that I have a crush on.” You feel yourself tremble, wondering what will happen next. And so, you employ your most familiar defence mechanism.

“But I don’t want to ruin what we have already, as friends. That’s why I’ve been trying to avoid it, and to not tell you. Because, well, you’re my best friend. I don’t want to fuck that up by confessing I want you, I—.”

“What if I don’t want you like a best friend? What if I want you more, far beyond that? Have you ever once considered how obviously it’s painted all over my face that I’m completely taken by you?”

Your mouth drops open in shock. Despite the way everyone’s been teasing the both of you for months, you didn’t expect it to be real. You didn’t expect it to be such a fire, that when you look at him and into his eyes you see the flames lighting him ablaze, in just the way they’ve taken you.

“I…Bucky—.”

“You’re beautiful. You’re kind, you’re talented. You have a smile that could melt the fucking Arctic, and a heart that puts a saint to shame. Doll, it’s you. You’re the one I want, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. You’re the only one I’ve ever needed like this, like it physically hurts me to be away from you for even a second. I— I’m yours. Completely, utterly, and probably a bit pathetically, yours. Always have been, always will be.”

And you believe him. Your brain puts itself into overdrive trying to figure out ways this could be a con, a get-love-quick scheme he’s the charming salesman for, but it comes out blank. Your heart wins and desire consumes and you just can’t anymore. 

“Kiss me.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but the two of you are so close, of course he hears it. He can hear your heart, and smell every part of you, from your intoxicating perfume to your pheromones. It’s driving him feral, wild. It has from the very first second he saw you, trying your best to stay balanced on a rickety ladder, so lost in thought you didn’t hear him come in and almost trip over his feet at the sight of you. 

And so, for once, Bucky Barnes lets go. Of his worries that he cannot be the man you deserve, of his fears that he will hurt you. Temporarily, at least. And his body spurs him on, tells him to close the distance and just act. 

You blink, and then his mouth is on yours. 

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him right into you because every atom’s worth of space between the two of you feeling like a fucking chasm, and you can’t help but sigh. For once, you got what you wanted. You got who you wanted.

His mouth tastes so sweet, a lingering hint of the cherry coke he was nursing all night all over his lips and it’s making your brain short circuit. His hands are on your face and then in your hair and then just blindly grabbing, pulling you as tightly to him as he physically can while he tastes, tastes the sweet nectar of reciprocation right off the lips he’s been dying to kiss all night. Like you’re a sacred artefact he’s been begging for his whole life to be able to touch, just once. 

Both of your hearts beat in tandem, pressed so close together than it’s almost like you desire to become one entity. And it drives you up the wall when he groans against your teeth, showing you just how much he’s enjoying this. Your head is beginning to spin, and you just need more. 

All your life you’ve been made to feel shame about sex and sexuality just because nobody is expected to be sexually attracted to you. And in one single sound from Bucky’s throat, all those notions are dispelled, cast away. You are wanted, you are cherished. You are valued, standing between Bucky’s warm hands and knowing there is no other place he’d rather be than against your mouth, desperately trying to melt the two of you together into one person so you never feel distance ever again.

He reluctantly pulls away first, feeling his chest burn from the lack of oxygen. He suspects you feel the same as him, maybe even worse, and he breaks your lips apart, reveling in the whine that slips past yours, a protest of the disconnection.

“You okay?” He asks, as you take in deep breaths, staring into his cobalt eyes that look almost black with how much his pupils are dilated.

You nod vigorously. “Please, Buck. I need more. I need you.” You all but beg, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you pull him close.

“You also need to breathe baby.” His thumb ghosts over your lips as you pant, and you realise you’re being too needy. It’s probably putting him off, and it makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

You’re being too much. 

“Oh, I— Sorry, I’ll calm down, I didn’t mean to be too much—.”

His thumb slips past your lips and begins to caress your tongue, pressing down on it as a way of effectively shutting you up.

“Oh no. Don’t apologise, baby. I can’t get fucking enough of you. But I also don’t want you to pass out on me, doll. Can’t have that, can we? Just need you to catch your breath, then we can go right back to what we were doing, yeah?” His eyes are so dark, and his voice is so low, that it’s turning you on beyond compare.

You moan, and his expression shifts. You wonder if he hates the sound. “Fuck, do that again.” You let your eyes flutter shut and you heed his command. You’d do anything he asked of you, if he says it in this same tone he’s using in this moment. 

“Fuck. You sound so pretty, baby. All for me?” Your heart is beating out of your chest, begging to be freed, for you to get what you want. 

“Yeah. All for you, Bucky. Always for you.” You tug at his wrist, pulling him closer into you. God, he’s just never close enough. 

He kisses you again, and you almost sob, giving in. He’s more frenetic, hungry, this time. Anything soft and sweet he was planning to tease you with has now long evaded his mind, now claiming your mouth as his. He grabs at your thighs, encouraging you to wrap them around his waist, and you do so.

Forgetting any limitations that may have been in place, if Bucky were a normal man. But he’s not. 

And you’re too far gone to care. He walks the both of you backwards, and then sits down on the edge of the bed before he turns, laying your head comfortably on the pillows as he hovers above you, between your thighs. Your hips roll upwards, rubbing against his crotch, and then he moans against your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between both of his. 

You grip him even tighter, nails practically ripping through the leather when every part of you is suddenly too warm, and Bucky all but rips himself away from you.

You gasp, staring at his pink lips now completely covered in your red, swollen from the bruise of the kiss. “Bucky? What—.”

“Your hand. It’s bleeding.”

“Huh? No it’s—“ You pull your hand off of him and note the maroon colour, quite quickly seeping through the bandage. “Oh shit. How’d you know?” You ask, pushing at his chest so the both of you can sit. He kneels between your legs as you balance yourself on your hand, staring at the other one. You guess you must have ripped your stitches open, and that means…a trip to the infirmary. Looking like a hot mess.

Bucky watches you, drowning in his guilt that fills his lungs with polar molecules of I’m sorry and nothing else. “I think I ripped a stitch or two, I’ll need to go down to the medbay. Denise is on shift tonight, hopefully she won’t be too pissed at the sight of me.” You smile at him.

“Can I go with you?” You nod, and indicate for him to let you get up.

“Before we get down there, we need to wipe our faces, love. My damn lipstick’s not kiss proof after all.” You chuckle, gently cradling your hand as you stand. “Let me do it, please.” His eyes have grown somber, so far removed from the situation in his pants. You soften, feeling horrible at having brought it up again. 

Once he’s done cleaning your face, you voice your feelings. “I’m sorry, Buck. First it was Tony, now this. I promise I’m not doing this on purpose to make you feel bad, you know you’re not to blame, right?”

He smiles, placing a kiss on your now bare lips, soft and sweet and understanding. “I know. The guilt’s still gonna kill me, but it’s not because of you, doll. I know.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before putting one warm hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the infirmary, insisting on pulling all the doors on the way for you like nothing’s automated in this place. He even lets you sit on his lap while you get patched up, explaining to Denise that he’s here as your emotional support.

He’s with you every step of the way, as you get back to your rooms and he pulls you back into his, to his warm bed that’s too large for a man to sleep alone in, settling behind you with his warm chest against your back. He’s taken to muttering soft praises and compliments against the shell of your ear until you fall asleep.

He holds your injured hand in his metal one, completely encapsulating it so you won’t hurt yourself in your sleep.

And he does it all as more than your best friend.

But would he consider himself your lover? Your boyfriend?

You dream away the hours, full of red hot lust entanglements and ice-cream sweet love confessions with the man currently spooning you.

He listens to your heartbeat to calm him, as he too falls asleep in your safe hold, knowing exactly where he’s found himself, in this bed with you.

Home.

BONUS PART

[charklenee]

Im bored here is chase x y/n [house md] part 1

I have clinic duty today and I've never felt more exhausted. Working five to nine is already hard, but in addition to the headache I got from my hangover, it's a new kind of hell. I knew I shouldn't drink an excessive amount of liquor during a week day but what more can I say? I was in a state of absolute vulnerability and had a rough time processing an end to my two-year relationship, with my now ex-boyfriend. My head ached tremendously and I could feel a beating pulse on the back of it. I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders and sat calmly on the chair in House's office.

He walked in his sneakers with his cane towards the coffee pot and poured a glass for himself.

Currently, I'm still closing my eyes and ready to pass out any moment. I had enormous eyebags in dark shades of brown and black. Slightly smudged mascara and eyeliner was still visible because I haven't washed my face since last night. My hair was scuffed in a bad way, but I managed to clip it so it wouldn't be unbearable. I looked like a mess, I sound like a mess, my hair looks like a mess, and I have clinic duty today. This day couldn't not get any worse, right?

"Patient is in a severe state of comatose," House said while sipping his coffee.

"And?" Cameron replied.

"What is the word "severe" implying?" Chase said with furrowed eyebrows.

"It means she is half-dead and in a state of comatose "

"Great.." I say. "Just put her on the IV and wait for her to emerge from her beauty sleep three decades later, easy-peasy."

House turned his head from the whiteboard and looked at me straight in the eye, "oh yeah, I thought of the same thing, well obviously - are you hungover, Dr.?" House said it in the most sarcastic tone he could possibly say and I was about to tip over the edge of my seat listening to his rambling.

"Yeah. I am, House. I'm going to literally faint any minute now -have you done a tox-screen on the patient, might've been drug related."

"Patient's tox screen was clear, no sign of anything related to drugs." House said.

"Organ failure? Kidney? Or maybe cardiac arrest?" asked Foreman urgently.

"So you meant to say that half-dead meant bruised and butchered?" Chase replied to House.

"She's full of scars head to toe and has nasty fleshy wounds, my guess is high blood sugar is an underlying cause of all of this." House said.

"Hyperglycemia as an underlying problem?" I said with my eyes closed and palms covering my face.

"Yes, three points to the alchoholic." House pointed.

Chase was looking at me all concerned but I honestly don't need that kind of attention. I need something like a rebound, alchohol could get me far, but not far enough to forget. Memories of him linger, linger so dearly, hauntingly.

Chase said coldly, "Wake up, House told you to draw blood." He tapped my back whilst I was covering my face.

"Yeah..I'll do it." I said, in a breaking voice.

"Damn, what did this guy do to make you look like this." He left to check up on the patient.

He stopped and looked at me before he went out of House's office.

After a few minutes, I got the sample and I did some tests. I was looking through the microscope at the office and examining the patient's blood culture. There he was, he walked in. He slided the door and tried to not make it obvious he was there for me, but I could tell the opposite from his glare piercing through the back of my mind.

"Yeah, I'm here for you. Are you okay? I brought some juice for your hangover. I know we don't get along and I hardly know you but please just take the juice."

I stood up and stray away from the microscope. I folded my arms, "it's nice to think that somebody is here for me during times like these, but I don't quite enjoy being somebody else's guilt. I don't want your pity, Dr. Chase. But I will accept this juice, thanks."

He handed me the juice and glanced down, this somehow made me guilty for treating him like I did. I keep blaming my shitty behavior because of a break-up. I guess it's somehow true that it did lead up to this behavior but it is also my fault I don't take care of myself.

"Chase. I'm sorry I was acting all bitchy, I-"

"Yeah, I get it. I did pity you, from personal experience I felt a need to help, I guess."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for the juice."

"Hey.." Chase said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you need a rebound, I could help you. It could ease the pain. No alchohol, no meds, just you and me. We could talk your feelings out. I don't want to smell your vodka scent anymore."

"Sure, whatever you say." I initially was thinking it would lead up to this but when I heard the words I just gave up and followed to his sayings because I think something like this could bring me some sort of rejoicement.

"I have clinic duty. I'll be at your place at seven."

"Deal."

[fuck-customers]

tws for self harm (alluding to it) ///

puts two weeks in at phone job. blocks all managers, leaves all cord (which. why the fuck are we using that. we were just fine using gm but someone just had to tell them about it and they wanted to be """hip""" and """cool""" with the times. hello fellow kids!) gcs, blocks all numbers.

goes into malwart to shop.

"why would you leave without telling us anything?"

i don't know, maybe me literally having thoughts to actually harm myself and play in traffic like fucking frogger were the clue. who knew!

"you could have called out!"

ive been literally trying to call out for three weeks straight with a guilt trip of "your coworker is too pregnant for me to work her anymore" (which. totally isnt my fault btw, she's had 4 months for me + nine for the coworker to hire a second person after she went on maternity. she sat on her ass for that long and then immediately hires someone literally the next day after i put my two weeks in), "i have to go home when its dark!" (its kentucky, sun doesnt set until around 9 pm in the summer and it's not my fault you live in illinois), and "i have fees taken out of my pay when you dont show up" (yet another guilt trip, which its literally less than $20 from what i knew of it), and with that you'd think you'd have a brain to connect the dots on that when your worker starts calling out to dodge shifts. things come up. things out of our control HAPPEN. and you're more worried about sales and making money instead of treating your workers like they're human??

there's also the fact that. she refused to cover shifts. the manager did. for my store specifically. and then she'd show up at 3/4 pm (almost) every day at the end of the week just to hang around and do nothing but be on her computer and micromanage me?? like okay man. ALRIGHT. that and they'd complain i wasn't making sales when it's literally the slowest store IN THE DISTRICT and they all have the audacity to say that it's a busy store?? literally over the four month course of me being there i've sold like 10 phones. TEN. and i get no help when asked despite being a new employee, and then threatened with my hours being taken away because im not making sales.

sufficed to say i'm pissed as hell.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[salsakiyoomi]

Hiyo! congrats on the 1k followers!!

I'm usually a lurker and more active on twt but Ive been easing back into tumblr again to post fandom stuff, theres a niche corner on tumblr where I got comfy in and I happens to find/followed you there! I hope I'll be seeing ur posts around! I want to throw a hat in this event for fun! Thanks for the oppertunity!!

Fandom: Spiderverse/JJK Name: Gato ヾ(•ω•`) About myself: I'm a 5'2/ 160cm, Taurus/Capricorn rising, 24yo bi INTJ-T I'm 88% introverted and I work from home so I don't usually see the sun unless it breaks into my house. I love natural documentary videos and random analyzes videos on yt if they last more than 2 hours (play in bg while I'm working) My taste in music is whatever yt auto play next, I'll listen to J-Rock, Kpop, indie to folk but I will also work in complete silence for 8 hours straight if i forgot to put on anything. ( the grind dont stop )

I'm pretty easy going and I definitely know what I'm doing @ work, I love to show people the rope if needed. Anything kind of socialize outside my job, I'll run out of wits. I've never flirt my entire life and I won't start now ( I might be aroace but its debatable lol)

Ideal type: My type of guy and gal is definitely the no-nonsense one who tell me straight up what they want. I can't say I'll give them the same treatment tho I'm not always honest with myself :))) but I'm deeply devoted and I don't do anything half way.

It's very difficult for me not to challenge any kind of authority figure on sign, I'm allergic to condescending people. Still I find assertive people very……..hot!! (please pair me up with one, itll be so funny)

Season: whenever it rain! Summer, late autumn Favorite trope: Shared room! team up! Hurt/Comfort, maybe a truce? or 'we both stuck between a rock and each other and we might not get out alive'

HONEYMOON MATCHUP WITH : MIGUEL O'HARA

— honeymoon :

– miguel was an asshole, a certified one at that — your first day at hq wasn't very thrilling with him throwing you nasty looks left and right, the worst part is, he didn't actually say anything rude or mean to you, but he wasn't all that friendly either, so when you came up to him with a scowl on your face and demanding that he tells you why he keeps looking at you like you just spilled the milk over, he simply looked you up and down and said something along the lines of 'just get back to work' not really offering much context or explanation before leaving you to head back to his 'office' and from that day on, you were sworn enemies — you couldn't stand his authority figure persona and he couldn't stand your stubborn self because you never abided by his rules, so everyday was to you was a back and forth argument with him, and it didn't help that you'd get paired up with him for alot of missions — talk about bad luck.

– slowly but surely, the two of you eased up to eachother, yeah it took like nine months but it worked out — your arguments started to turn from actual heated conversations to more of a fun back and forth bickering — miguel would deny it any moment you or anyone would ask him about it, say something about how he thinks it's annoying but the small grin on his face when he talks to you doesn't go unnoticed, no matter how much he tries to hide it — yeah, he's a tough shell, closed off and repulsive but he isn't all that bad after all, at least that how you were starting to see him — like hey, he brought you empanadas from the cafeteria with him, he doesn't do that with anybody else.

– soon enough, it's been a year and a half since miguel has known you — you still don't really know him that much but you settled for a truce and you warmed up to eachother. the day came where your walls were broken down and the rain was pouring over your head, seemingly amplifying your bad mood because it felt like such a cliche for it to heavy pour on the day you felt at your worst — but you were soon shielded from the icy cold droplets when an umbrella came over your head, and surely enough it was miguel who was holding it, he threw you a glance, his face the usual blank expression he worse but his eyes were soft, he mumbled something about 'don't want you catching a cold, you have a mission tomorrow' and the rest of the walk to your place was in silence, not the heavy kind, miguel wasn't a talker after all, but you appreciated his presence — no matter how silent it was, it was still comforting.

what's on the radio : art deco, lana del rey

a/n : had to pair your up with miguel after you said you didn't like authority figures 😭 i like a good enemies to lovers — although it's more like office drama but whatever — THE NAME GATO IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT SHSJWJSK, and yes so true the grind don't stop 💪💪 must keep going no matter what's the circumstances are ✊✊ i love miguel sm too also look at the way he's lowkey pouting in the second pic he literally looks >:c ahhhwhee i wanna play with his cheeks 😭 tysm for the request gato, hope this did you justice i also really love your blog <33

[nutlessspeedrun]

Denial Journal: July 10th

yet again, i have found myself incidentally denied orgasm :p

after my last stint of denial - which lasted for 13 days - i diiiid let myself get off a couple times... only three, though! the last time i came was on the first of this month, so its been nine days already! i wanna last longer than 13 days, but we'll have to see how that goes...

my girlfriend was the one who got me off. it was wonderful, she's veeery talented at pushing my buttons ♡ i got to beg and plead not to cum, and when i finally did tip over the edge, i SWEAR, i came for almost 30 seconds straight... i was mush after that...

my libido went down a bit after that, as you might expect. ive had a rough couple of weeks... way too much going on at once! between appointments and job hunting and social obligations, i have been wiiiiped oooout. luckily, it finally came back! ... when i went on a trip out of town for the weekend with next to no privacy...

ive spent a lot of my Me Time editing pictures and videos of myself that ive taken over the past few months. so, that has me a little... worked up... but outside of that, the only time ive gotten to indulge has been with my pants around my knees as i frantically rub myself in a bathroom. and the first time i tried to do that, someone was knocking on the door within thirty seconds of my fingertips reaching my straining cock. uuuhg...

i managed a few edges, at least. on my last day - before a five hour drive - i had to press my hand over my mouth to keep from whimpering during my frantic rubbing. my cock wanted to have an orgasm SO bad, but i can't just let it cum! poor thing...

im back home again now, and have spent most of the day dozing. i can feel myself getting wet as i spend time scrolling through nasty stuff on my phone, buuut... sometimes, its nice to let yourself hump the air, isn't it?

here's hoping for some nice play time later!! ♡

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Full Of Broken Thoughts

Series: Supernatural B-Sides

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Warning: Major Character Death

Rating:  Teen

Synopsis: Takes place shortly after S9E14, 'Captives' What if Dean had decided to try a different solution to killing Abadon?

Tags:  Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jody Mills, Death, Metatron, Castiel, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Crowley, Angst, Songfic, Canon Divergence,

AN: Song is "Hurt," written by Trent Reznor. Either the Nine Inch Nails original or the Johnny Cash cover are brilliant-- variations on a theme and a real illustration of how alternate interpretations can bring something new to an established work. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

The note was on the kitchen’s prep counter, weighted down with a sturdy drip coffeemaker new in the box.

Got a lead on First Blade. Might be a while. Calls going straight to your phone. -D

Sam sighed. "That's . . . that's great Dean, very vivid. Paints quite the word picture," he muttered, crumpling up the note and tossing it into the swill can. At least Dean had remembered to stock up the cooler before he took the car and Sam set to work making himself some breakfast. Peace and quiet for a few days, good food and his own company for a few days, no black cloud of guilt in the shape of his brother for a few days. If Sam was honest, it sounded lovely. Maybe they’d tried to reestablish the business prematurely. The way he felt right now he’d just as soon keep working alone. For now.

A few days turned into a few more days. Then a few more days. Sam kept busy. He found himself a scrappy little Jeep Cherokee that fit him like a glove and had a radio that didn't play cock rock 24/7. He ate at nice places where he didn't have to writhe through Dean's heavy drinking and complete inability to behave around any woman between twenty and fifty. He came home to a full shampoo bottle and an undefiled toothbrush and all the peace and quiet a guy could want.

It was all very serene, very soothing. Until Sam felt himself thoroughly soothed. --- I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real. --- "So I can't help but notice your shadow's missing," Jody finally spat it out as the movie on Jody's TV finished. Rashamon, all rain and leafy shades and everyone the hero of their own life story. Jody grunted as she adjusted her bad leg on the recliner's leg rest. "Is everything okay?"

"Sure, Dean's fine. How's Alex settling in?" Sam said. --- The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting. Try to kill it all away, but I remember every thing. --- It got exasperating.

It got so Sam started conversations with, "Dean's working a case solo. He's fine." Each and every person would start a little, give him that so-so-concerned look, and say, "Okay." It only confirmed that anybody who knew them didn't think of Sam as a person in his own right. Only something that existed in relation to his needy fucking idiot of a brother. --- What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know, goes away in the end. --- It wasn't until Sam was cleaning out the cooler and found that experiment with garlic and Velveeta that he realized Dean had been gone for a while. An icepick stabbed through his guts as Sam started counting days.

He made himself stop. Dean wanted to sulk some more, he was within his rights. Sam was tired of being his older brother's therapist. They were both grown men for God's sake. The stinking mass of cheeselike foodstuff went into the trash and Sam went to work scrubbing the remains out of the cooler. --- And you could have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt. --- "Moose! Long time."

"What do you want Crowley?" Sam asked, sighing at the state of his shirt. That ecto stain hadn't come out. How did Dean do it, lemon juice or club soda or something else--

"Got a lead on the First Blade, finally. An associate of mine--"

Sam dropped the shirt. "What do you mean, finally? Dean went with you to chase the First Blade ages ago."

"No he has not my dear Moosie. In fact, that's why I'm wasting my breath on you and not on your better half. I've been trying to get through to Squirrel for several days, and the bloody tease will not answer his phone. I know I'm not exactly his favorite person in the world but it does make a girl feel a bit unloved."

Sam didn't answer. The arithmetic was running, absolute and merciless, and this time his brain ignored the hard stop he'd put on any thoughts that might lead to worrying about Dean.

"Pass the message along if you would. My followers are holding the line against Abbadon but that won't last indefinitely. Ta."

Sam stared at the laundry room wall for a long moment, his phone in his hand. Peace, quiet, emptiness, solitude.

He hated it. --- I wear this crown of thorns, upon my liar's chair. Full of broken thoughts, I cannot repair. --- "This is Dean's other, other cell. Please call my brother Sam at 214-555-1212."

"Dean call me. Right now. This dropping off the grid shit's not funny." --- Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear. You are someone else, I am still right here. --- "Sure I'll put out some feelers," Garth said. "How long has he been in the wind?"

However long seven weeks, two days, and eighteen-odd hours is. "Long enough I'm getting worried," Sam said. "You haven't heard of him needing backup on a case or anything?"

"Naw man. Not that he'd call for backup. You know Dean. I love y'all like family but there're times he'd cross the street to step in dog doo. Could be he just needed some Me Time and he's holed up somewhere with a couple strippers and a case of Jack Daniels."

"If that were the case he'd be calling every hour to rub my nose in it," Sam said dryly.

Garth laughed. "The cringe is strong with that one. Try not to worry too much. It's Dean. He's hard to hurt. Experts have tried."

That wasn’t true, and Sam knew it. Anyone who really knew him practically had to take a second job handling his oh-so-tender feelings--

Not ‘anyone,’ Sam. You. --- What have I become, my sweetest friend? Every one I know goes away in the end. --- Sam was in the bunker when it happened-- the alarm klaxon went off and the map table lit up like Vegas. It took him most of a day to reverse the lockdown and turn off the alarms, and when he went outside he ran straight into Castiel.

"Something's different," was the best Cas could do, with that maximum-strength frown of his. As they went downstairs, Cas asked, "Where's Dean?"

"I don't know. He left a while ago saying he was on a case and he--" Sam turned when he realized Cas wasn't in line with him anymore. The angel was standing on the upper deck stairs with the most profound look of horror Sam had ever seen on his face, including the time he'd taken Lucifer out of Sam's head.

"Oh no," Cas said. "Oh please, no. Not this. Please. Not this." --- And you could have it all, my empire of dirt. --- "I was one of Abbadon's personal guard," the elderly woman on the bed said, her hands held in place by padded cuffs. "Winchester trapped me inside the old convent and started shooting me up with needles full of his own blood. The last thing I remember was . . ." she started to cry, "he just . . . gleamed. The Righteous Man, in the flesh. It was beautiful."

Yeah, Sam remembered. The cold annihilating light that had singed every cell in his body, making him a burnt offering for sacrifice--

But they'd found no body. The Impala outside, Dean's jacket with the car keys in the pocket, Dean's footprints on the convent's filthy floor, Dean's fingerprints on the bloody needles, but no Dean. No Dean, alive or dead. No one matching Dean’s description had turned up as a John Doe anywhere and Sam had every Hunter and Hunter-adjacent person he’d ever met looking. Dean was just . . . gone.

The woman suddenly squinted in Sam's direction. "I'm sorry. Are you Sam?" He nodded. "He wanted me to give you a message. He said, 'It's okay. It should have been me the whole time.' He wanted to tell you he was sorry."

The next thing Sam remembered, he was outside the room and sitting on the floor. He breathed. His heart beat. He wasn't sure how. Sam wasn't sure of anything any more. Reality was over, and this all had to be a bad dream. Some nightmare Gadreel . . . or Crowley . . . or Lucifer, maybe he really was still in the Cage and Lucifer--

No acceptable version of reality would let the last word on their bond of brotherhood be the sound of a locking door. --- I will let you down. I will make you hurt. --- "No," Sam said. "Dean would never ask you. For anything."

"You're right. He didn't ask. I offered," Metatron said. "A convergence of mutual interests. I get one less enemy to deal with as I work to reunite angelkind," Sam scoffed, "demons go back into Hell for now, and your brother finally gets that martyr's death he's been seeking since . . . always."

"What does that mean, 'for now'?"

"Oh please. You of all people should know that nothing stays locked away forever. Could be next week. Could be in the year 3000. But it'll happen. Though honestly? I don't really see why you're so upset. Normal life awaits! I mean, sure, it doesn't mean anything without Dean providing context. What are you, without him? A college dropout suffering from delusions of heroism? A discarded vessel? Castiel's hired muscle? It's funny really. Out of all the members of the Winchester perpetual disaster machine, Dean was the one you really respected the least, and yet without him--"

"You shut your mouth." He was shaking. Knees, hands, voice. All of it shook.

Metatron did, but he didn't stop smiling. He might've been sipping a beer instead of watching Sam Winchester bear down on him with a blade to hand. "You wanna know the real reason, I put Dean back on the path to completing the Trials?" Through a series of moves Sam couldn't follow, Metatron disarmed him and punched him in the chest so hard Sam felt his ribs crack. Struggling to breathe, Sam collapsed. "I'm bored of your story. God might find humanity's inability to learn amusing, but I'm over it. I'm extremely over it.

"If you think about it," Metatron picked up Sam's angel blade, "it's cruel. Give you just enough awareness to know," Sam groaned as the angel put a hand on Sam's stomach and shook it, like a parent jiggling a chubby baby's tummy, "to really bellyfeel, how wretched you are, but not enough power to really do anything about it."

"Just kill me," Sam said. He felt it again, the relief of the end. "You win. Do it."

Metatron made a considering face. "That would be the merciful thing to do, I guess. I mean, there is always the possibility--" he burst into laughter. "Oh I can't even. It's gonna take a miracle to beat me, and the guy who made you capable of miracles? He's gone.

"And I don't feel like being merciful." He vanished. --- If I could start again, a million miles away, I would keep myself. --- "Oh don't be melodramatic Samuel, it doesn't suit you," Death scoffed. "I offered you the chance to die on your own terms and you rejected it."

"I was tricked!" Sam snapped.

"Yes. By your brother, who was equally ready to die, and whom you convinced otherwise. How did that conversation go again-- 'I want to live, and so should you, you have friends, family,' et cetera. The two things that define the both of you are survivor's guilt and martyr complex. You are not Christ, and no one demanded that you climb up on a cross. You were not in that church for vengeance or the greater good or any higher purpose, at all. You were in that church to atone for a very specific sin, from which your brother absolved you. Well now, it is over. Dean is somewhere you cannot reach and believe me, it is better for all concerned he remain there."

"Then take me too," Sam said.

"No."

Sam felt his soul fail, like an overloaded cable. "TAKE ME TOO!!!" He fell at Death's feet. "Just take me too. You want to."

"What I want is immaterial." Implacable as a Delphic oracle, Death stared down at Sam as Sam sniveled on the ground. "You’re free now, Sam. Though I don't think you'll find liberty comforting, in light of what you spurned to obtain it."

Sam woke up on the exam room table gasping air into his cramped lungs. --- I would find a way. ---

AN2: I got some feelz about the latter half of S9. Sam was angry, and he had every right -- Dean essentially held Sam down while Sam was raped, repeatedly. But basically confirming every bad thing Dean's ever felt about himself, and tying the whole thing off with the idea that not wanting to watch his brother die (again) was a sin and Sam would rather be dead than exist on the same planet was a bit overkill.

[imaginethathaikyuu]

forever in one night. 

miya atsumu - word count: 5877

still not accepting requests for the miya twins. don’t send them. they will be deleted. 

disclaimer: this is my first time writing for atsumu, and please note that i ended up writing him far cooler than he actually is, simply for the narrative’s sake. honestly, i think i could have done a better job at capturing his character and who he is, and i know that in canon/fanon, he is a lot dorkier and very often lamer than i’ve written him; pls look over it a little bit. of course, i would love any feedback you have. thank you. 

* nsfw below featuring: dirty talk, blow jobs, “casual” sex, mentions of one night stands, mentions of atsumu’s previous relationships, friends to lovers, atsumu being really bad at feelings

-

Dry hands. 

That’s the first thing you noticed when Miya Atsumu put your face between his palms: just how abrasive the pads of his thumbs were. 

He saw your small flinch. It should have been his cue to back off. He didn’t. Instead, he hummed your name in a way he hoped you’d like, and pulled your face closer to his. 

“Tell me, how long have you wanted me?” 

“Since I realized I didn’t have a chance with Osamu.” 

He laughed. His nose scrunched up and there was a crinkle in the corner of his eyes. It was cute, but for some reason it didn’t look real. None of the smiles he gave you ever did. “Ouch.” One of his hands fell from your face, taking place on your knee instead. 

Even in this intimate setting, the man in front of you was daunting. You expected that, though. That’s what made you interested in him years ago. He didn’t drop that intimidating gaze for anything - he didn’t let his guard down for even a second. 

It made you wonder how many times he’d done this if he was so confident and ready, if he didn’t mind faking laughs and touching you wherever he pleased, if he had his walls built before you had a chance to get so much as a peak over them.

“A while, then?” 

You shrugged.  

“Don’t be shy, I know you aren’t shy.” He ran his fingers through your hair; you scooted even closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. He smelled warm. “Tell me,” he was whispering, “how long have you wanted me, princess?” 

He looked down and watched as you bit your lip. He had a feeling you’d like the nickname. 

“Probably not as long as you think,” you replied. It was honest. “I really did have a crush on your brother.” 

“When?” Atsumu asked with a playful scoff. You shook your head. 

“In middle school…” 

You eyed the expanse of his neck, the sharp curve of his jawline, the freckle underneath his chin, the prominence of his Adam’s apple - you wanted to kiss every inch. To remember every detail. 

“Until our second year of high school, I guess.” 

No one had ever told him that they liked his brother first, but Atsumu wasn’t surprised. Osamu probably would have been a better fit for you. At the same time, however, you were a better fit for Atsumu - it’s no wonder his twin never showed interest. 

Atsumu still felt a sense of pride in getting the girl, even though his brother couldn’t care less. 

And it’s not like he had you. This wasn’t going to be anything more than a typical one night stand, and whether you knew that or not was none of his concern. 

“Your honesty is cute,” he told you. “So you’ve liked me since our third year, Y/N? That’s a long time of pining.” 

“No,” was your short reply, and you left it at that because you didn’t feel like being honest with him anymore. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to see if he’d let you leave a few marks with your mouth. You wanted to savor this moment of faux intimacy, feeling like you were his and he was yours, being in his arms and smelling his cologne and seeing him so up close, because you knew this wouldn’t last forever. It’d probably go by too fast.

So you let yourself kiss his neck. And you were too happy when he didn’t push you away. His chest seemed to deflate with a long exhale, and you hoped that was a good sign rather than a show of annoyance. 

It was neither. Atsumu was purely along for the ride. You just hadn’t noticed that the control you currently had was given and temporary. 

He planned on taking it back after just a few kisses, but he hadn’t expected it to feel so nice; your lips were soft and gentle and kind, you were kissing him on all the places he liked to be kissed - places others had rarely taken the time to show attention to. 

He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it even though he knew he shouldn’t. And he thought about the short date he had taken you on - not even an hour ago the two of you were sat in a cafe. Of course he was eyeing you up the entire time, and of course you noticed but didn’t care. 

You had been waiting far too long to be on that end of Atsumu’s gaze. Years of watching him flirt with everyone but you made you hungry for it, and Atsumu liked that. He liked knowing that you wanted him. 

And he wanted you, too. He really did. He liked you a lot. It was a shame, though, that this would likely be over before it even started. Before he even had a chance to get you. 

But he’d let you get a taste of him. And maybe, if you were able to handle that, then… 

Before he could even realize, you had slid your leg across his lap and were well on your way to sucking a good sized bruise into the side of his neck. 

“Well aren’t you brave.” 

And then you bit down, holy shit - with all of his experience holding the moan and keeping his cool, right now he couldn’t stay quiet if he tried. “F-Fuck, Y/N,” and the sound made your hips jolt forward. 

You had managed to find Atsumu’s one weakness very quickly - most of his partners never get the chance. Knowing you, he should’ve seen it coming. 

“You’re feisty, aren’t you?” His next words came to him as if they were a light turning on, a heavenly gate opening, a pants zipper coming undone. “What about putting that mouth to even better use, hm?” 

You pulled back from him to nod, but it wasn’t good enough for him. He took your chin in his hand and tapped your bottom lip with his thumb - he was completely enamored by your mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted someone’s lips around him so badly.  

“You want me?” 

Another nod. He was getting frustrated. 

“Say it, tell me,” he said. “Do you want my cock in your mouth, princess?” 

He’d said those exact words so many times that right now he felt like he was reading from a script. And for some reason, he really regretted saying something so generic to you. 

But your eagerness lifted his spirits. “I do,” you told him, “Please, ‘Tsumu…” 

Even though any other time he hated hearing that nickname in bed - or his name at all, for that matter - he’d let you get away with it, because you were familiar. For some reason, it felt right. You were close. You had always been. A neighbor, a classmate, a friend - now, a date. So he’d give you more leniency than he would with anyone else. 

He’d let you say his name, kiss him, leave a hickey, because he felt that was the decent thing to do. It wasn’t because he wanted to hear it, feel it, have it. It was because he knew you more than he knew his other frivolous partners, and he had an innocent soft spot for you. Innocent.

That’s what he’d been telling himself for awhile. Every time his late night thoughts drifted to you, every time he was embarrassed to be caught staring, every time he wished for this very moment. His feelings were innocent and trivial and barely there. 

The man was a professional at lying to himself. 

“Let’s go to my room, then.” 

You stood up and led the way because you didn’t need him to take you there. You already knew where his bedroom was in this small apartment after you had been here countless times - never doing this, but always kind of wanting to be. 

“You cleaned your room!” you said, absolutely delighted. 

“You expected me to bring a date into a dirty bedroom?” 

“I don’t know what I expected from you,” you replied, and he had to admit that you had a point. “I kind of got used to seeing your underwear on the ground and dishes on your nightstand.”  

“You’re right,” he chuckled, “you already know the real me. There was no sense in cleaning, then, was there?” 

“Yes, Atsumu. There was.” 

“You’re supposed to be puttin’ that mouth to better use,” he grumbled, hands on his hips, attempting to size you up. All it did was make you laugh. 

Without thinking you said, “Your accent is so cute,” and before you could stop yourself you put your hands on his cheeks - the same way he had done to you earlier - and pulled his face close to yours, giving him the sloppiest pecks on the lips just because you felt like you could. 

And he let you, but he wasn’t patient, even though he enjoyed the affection. He wasn’t necessarily reciprocating but you didn’t notice, and you made it quick, so he didn’t have to complain. 

He pulled back, examined your face, and ignored the feeling he got in his chest when you matched his eye contact. Then, he tapped your lip with his thumb again, and thought up another overused line. 

“Get on your knees, princess.” 

Not all of his lines are grand - sometimes he just had to get to the point. 

Yet again, something felt off. 

You fell to your knees, of course. You were more than ready to do this for him. Atsumu was almost proud of you for it. He brushed your hair out of your eyes and recalled what his next words were meant to be. 

“I’m not going to be gentle,” he said, and for some reason he couldn’t look you in the eyes when he did. His confidence seemed to disintegrate and he didn’t know why. “I… I’m just warning you, because, you know - you might not… be able to handle it.” 

Why was he saying all of this to you? His words weren’t hot, and it’s not like he’d been planning to treat you rough, but what else was he supposed to do? He wasn’t going to be tender and loving - this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. So why the hell did he feel so awkward when he was meant to look cool?

This is going to go just like it always does. Atsumu would be too much for you, because he was too much for everyone. But you’d give it your best shot until he was finished, and then he’d drive you home, wouldn’t let himself give you a goodbye kiss, and tomorrow he wouldn’t text you back. 

Rinse and repeat. 

All he needed was that reminder. 

“Do you think you can handle it, princess?” 

But god was it hard to look down at you and not completely falter in his intentions. 

You nodded, absolutely ready and hardly taking him seriously. “I think I can,” you said, giggling. 

“I can go easy on you if you need me to.”

“No,” you replied. “I want everything you can give.” 

Those words took his breath because he knew you meant them. 

“Then I’ll give you everything.” He wanted to bite his tongue, hold those words back, but he couldn’t. He was being just as honest as you were, and he was tired of saying things he didn’t mean. 

He heard his zipper coming undone. “Everything?” 

“Everything.” He was watching you with a keen eye, absolutely loving the view of you on your knees for him. The few dreams he’d had back in high school about doing this were unexpectedly coming true. “You have my word. As long as you show me you can take it, darling.” 

You yanked at his tight jeans and he laughed at your effort, then shimmied out of them so you didn’t have to work so hard. He slipped his shirt off quickly as well. 

You had to force your next words through the lump in your throat as you eyed the outline of his girth covered by his tight underwear. “I’ll do my best,” and your voice had lost its confident edge because you were done forcing it. 

Atsumu spoke low, “I know you will.” His hand slid onto your jaw, his fingers curled into your hair. With that hand he pulled your face against his thigh, and now the tip of your nose was just grazing his bulge. “Give me your best efforts, sweetheart.” 

He had a tight grip on your face and you knew his free hand was raring to take hold of your hair. And as your hands slid up the muscle of his thighs, as your fingers teased the skin beneath the underwear hems, as you pressed your face into his stiffness in a show of desperation, something in the room shifted. 

He was looking at you differently. You could see it. He wasn’t eyeing you up out of curiosity like at the cafe, and he wasn’t trying his hardest to give you a flirtatious gaze anymore; he was just watching you. Really watching. Simply because he wanted to be looking at you.

You pressed into him even harder; to Atsumu, it literally looked like you were nuzzling into his cock. He pulled you even closer. 

“So cute.” The words just slipped out. Maybe they weren’t the best, but he was hardly thinking. And as you pulled his underwear down his legs, the rest of his thoughts seemed to land on the ground with the fabric. 

Atsumu was more impatient than he usually was. As you took your sweet time he felt like he would go crazy. But he didn’t know that you were going slowly on purpose - not to tease, but because you needed a few seconds to remind yourself this was real. 

And you looked at him. His thighs were gorgeously sculpted and his hips were perfectly prominent and you still wanted to kiss every single inch of him: the place below his belly button, the smooth skin at the top of his legs, his inner thighs, the small scar above his knee. Because he deserved it. Because he was perfect in the funny way you always knew Atsumu to be. Because you just wanted to. 

Above you, he was getting restless. You didn’t care. You kissed him anyway. 

“You look nice,” you said with your lips against his lower stomach, and he wondered what you meant. Usually girls made simple comments about the places he always pulled their mouths to before they could say too much. Or they said nothing at all. That was usually his preference. 

“Stop teasing.” 

You looked up at him. “I wasn’t teasing. I meant it.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” He had to pick his resolve up off the floor because this was going too far off script. “You aren’t doing what you were told to do, princess.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” 

“You still want to, don’t you?” 

“I do,” you said before licking your lips. 

“Good,” he replied. He pulled on your jaw - you got the hint to open your mouth. With his other hand, he guided his length to your lips. “I’ve been dying to see my cock between these lips all night.” 

When he finally got to see that sight, the way it made him feel confirmed that this would be over far too soon, but the rest of the night would be long lasting. 

You were eager and Atsumu thought it was cute. You tried your best right from the start, didn’t even try building yourself up, but he wanted you to take your time. It may help him last a bit longer. 

“Look up at me, princess.” 

But this view wouldn’t - with your eyes wide and your mouth full of his cock, you looked up at him with a confidence you weren’t even aware of but Atsumu could see. He loved it. His hips jerked once, then again, and on that second thrust he felt his dick slide in deep - it made him gasp and try it again, but you pushed his hips back when you gagged. 

He was feeling cocky when he said, “Can’t you handle me, princess?”  

“‘Tsumu…” 

“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “None of that, no whining. Tell me. You can’t handle this, can you?” 

You didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to give him the benefit of being right, didn’t want to make him regret this. You wanted to give yourself to him. If that meant pushing yourself and stretching your limits thin, then you would do it. 

You would make yourself his. 

“I can,” you said. The tears that poured from your eyes defied you. You clawed at his hips, desperate and sad. “Please, ‘Tsumu, let me. I want you so bad…” 

Atsumu supposed he should’ve gotten a kick out of this. Usually, he did. A beautiful girl brought to the point of tears begging for him should have gotten him even more excited. That was usually his goal. 

This time, he felt guilt. 

He ignored it. 

“Okay.” He swallowed hard. “See if you can…” 

His words trailed off as you tried again, perilously attempting to take all of him into your mouth and down your throat. You weren’t doing any better than before, but Atsumu didn’t find himself caring. 

“What a pretty sight,” he mumbled, and then you looked up at him with those glossy eyes and once again, he was a goner. 

You watched his resolve fall apart. The stoic mask he’d been wearing all night was crumbling, and underneath was Atsumu in all of his gorgeous glory. Eyes squeezed shut, blonde hair hanging in his face, mouth fallen agape, moans leaving his throat coming straight from his chest. And it only made you push yourself even more - this is all you’ve wanted and you were getting it. His fake smiles, teasing words, snarky attitude were all gone, all because of you. 

He gripped your jaw harder. You held his hand in place there. 

“That’s it,” he said as you let his cock slide even deeper, “That’s my good fucking girl.” He moaned loud as you let him fuck your throat, as your lips reached his base, as you choked on his thick length. 

He felt himself teasing the edge and that’s all he could focus on. He couldn’t see the tears pouring from your eyes. He didn’t hear your strained noises around him. He couldn’t feel how tightly you were gripping his hand. All he wanted was to cum in your mouth and down your throat. Any second now, you were going to get him there. 

“So fucking good,” he moaned - he didn’t even realize he was saying it out loud. “Your mouth is fucking - goddammit - it’s so fucking good,” and he couldn’t believe how much he meant those words, he couldn’t believe how good you were making him feel.

He was moaning and cursing and so close to cumming; you were hoping that this was enough for him. 

It was more than enough. You had given him more that he’d ever had. His hips didn’t still, there wasn’t a single falter in his movements. His moans getting louder was the only warning he gave you before you felt his eruption shoot down your throat. And it was hot - it really reminded you of a volcano erupting, and you focused on that absurd thought to get you through it, because the last thing you wanted to do was fall apart when he needed you to stay together. If you stopped now, this entire thing will have been for nothing, and you had to show him that you could handle him. Anything he had, anything he’d give, you could take it and then some. 

You felt your throat tighten, threatening a nasty gag, and you held on for as long as you could before your body took over. Atsumu was already pulling away but you pushed his hips to force his length out of your mouth and the coughing started, tears streaming down your face, and you watched your control shatter. 

Atsumu hated hearing it. It made it hard to feel good about what just happened. 

You heard him walking away and your heart sank. 

You were only trying to find your composure, but it didn’t change the fact that you couldn’t manage to hold yourself together for him. 

That was it. Were you really that bad? He wasn’t even going to help you up off the floor? 

Maybe he was too much for you and you weren’t enough for him. You knew Atsumu’s standards were high, they always had been, but you tried your best and hoped you would be enough. Maybe you weren’t.  

You weren’t expecting him to come back. He sank down in front of you and grabbed your face, pushing your hands away, then brought a warm damp cloth to your skin. 

You were confused, to say the least. “I’m sorry -” 

“Someone made a mess of herself,” he said with a smirk, doing his best to ignore the feeling in his stomach and the words you were trying to say. Pretending to be cool because it was the only thing that would keep him sane. “But I have to say, princess, you do look beautiful with my cum dripping from your mouth…” 

You were flustered all over again. “Atsumu…”

“I’m only being honest.” He wiped your face clean; tear stains were kissed away and the evidence of what you’d done was erased from your mouth. “What do you say I return the favor?” His tone was lacking its usual edge. His voice sounded softer - gentle, even. 

“You want to?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he replied. Pretend to be cool. “It’s only fair.” Another line from his script, but one he meant. “What, you weren’t expecting me to get you off?” 

“I don’t know what I was expecting.” 

“I know,” he replied, not even knowing why he said it. 

He supposed he’d made his decision for how this would go. 

“Wanna go lie down?” 

“Only if you’re coming with me.” 

He took your hand and helped you up. “Cumming with you sounds lovely.” 

You hid your eye roll as you turned away from him, but of course you agreed with what he said. 

“Just lie down,” he told you, following behind you to his bed. You sat and he pushed you softly, offering some encouragement. You fell back easily and he quickly followed. “I’ll take care of you, Y/N. Promise.” 

You got a head start by unbuttoning your top for him, and you hoped he could tell that you were ready to move this along. He watched you pull your shirt off, leaving you scantily clad and a sight for his sore eyes. 

He dipped his head down to kiss you, wanting this to go smoothly, and kissing you was natural and easy. It was one thing he didn’t have to think about doing, and he was done thinking so much tonight. 

You continued blindly stripping as he gave you lazy kisses, and he pulled away to watch your bra fall to the bed. And you made him lose his breath. 

“You’re so pretty,” he said honestly, kissing your jaw and pulling you closer. His hands moved up and down the expanse of your waist. Your skin was soft and warm and he loved touching you in these places he’d never seen before. 

Before he could trap you underneath his hips, you tugged your skirt down. Atsumu didn’t help at all, he was too focused on kissing your chest, but you got it off. 

“‘Tsumu, just put it in.”

“Already?” 

“Don’t you want to?” He raised a brow at you, and you lifted your hips up to feel for what you were suspicious of. “You’re already so hard again. I want you just as bad, Atsumu, so please…” 

Everything he did following your words was pure instinct. Your underwear was pulled off in seconds and then he was lining himself up, with your help, to position his length at your entrance; he was inside of you before you could even think about asking for it again. 

And Atsumu felt you on every part of himself. He felt like he had been devoured, either by you or by his feelings for you, and for the first time ever he felt happy to feel this way.

He was going to lose himself in you - he knew that. Hell, maybe he already had. But he was okay with it and he was admitting it to himself now.

Being with you made him feel so much, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d just keep fucking you, taking you as well as he knew how, and let himself feel however he wanted, because not holding back made this worlds better.

Atsumu very rarely kissed with purpose. Kisses were only ever a means to an end - the only times he shared a kiss with someone was when it was initiated by them or when he needed an excuse to shut them up and get things started. But hovering over you, watching your pretty face contoured with pleasure and looking up at only him, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. His lips seemed to fall onto yours on their own. 

You moaned into his mouth and his eyes rolled back because a kiss had never felt so good. He brought a hand down to your face, his thumb ran along your cheekbone, touching you so gently you thought you’d be brought to tears. 

As his lips molded to yours, the movement of his hips slowed. Your legs wrapped around him, pulled him into you and held him there, and he was trying to rock into you hard. 

You pulled your lips free just so you could moan his name and Atsumu was in heaven. 

“God, fuck,” he moaned - his voice was ragged and thick, “say my name again, baby, please.”  

If you weren’t in such a daze you would have said something to tease him - if Atsumu wasn’t so blissed out, he would have just made you say it rather than tell you to, but neither of you were thinking that clearly. Unlike usual, he wasn’t thinking two steps ahead. And you were so lost in the moment that you had stopped reminding yourself to savor it. 

So you moaned his name again, because you’d have done anything he asked. Atsumu so desperately needed to clear his mind and get a hold of himself but it felt way too good to be out of control for once - at this point he wasn’t sure if either of you were controlling this, but he really hoped that you were lost at sea with him.  

All he knew was that he loved the way his name sounded when it was coming from your lips; he wanted to hear it so badly that he’d push his new need for having your lips on his to the back of his mind. 

It was only then that he remembered what this was supposed to be. 

A one night stand. A quick fuck. This wasn’t supposed to matter - not to him - but those original intentions had gone out the window. He’d thrown them out himself and hadn’t even realized it. How had he not realized it?

He was pulled out of those thoughts easily when he felt your delicate hands caressing his face. 

“What is it?” you asked him, because he’d completely stopped everything. You didn’t know that something had changed. 

“Nothing,” he lied, shaking his head. He nudged your nose with his own. “It’s just - you’re…” He swallowed hard. Thick. “...Addicting.” The shaky breath he released was nothing but a sign of his vulnerability. “I hope this never ends.” 

You kissed him again, soft this time for the sake of making it short. “Fuck me, Atsumu,” you said, your lips grazing against his as you spoke, and Atsumu was intensely aware of the fact that he was the only person in the world who could hear your words. “And make it last forever.” 

He would. 

He wanted to do anything you wanted him to do. He’d do whatever it took. Forever was a long time but if it always felt like this then he didn’t mind. 

You pushed the sand dunes of hair off his forehead, smiling up at him as you did. Even when his thrusts into you increased, you didn’t lose it. And he never wanted to look away from you. 

Atsumu had dropped saying that stupid nickname in favor for moaning your name, because it was the only word he had never called anyone else and he’d be damned if he treated you like you were just something to be charmed and used. Not again. 

“Fuck - fuck, Y/N,” he moaned into your neck. You arched your back into him; his hands wanted to roam your body but if he didn’t keep holding himself up with both arms he was sure he’d collapse. “Y/N!” 

Your nails raked his back, trying your hardest to pull him impossibly close. Even though he was as close as he could ever be, you felt like it wasn’t enough. You were sure there was some part of him you still hadn’t gotten. 

He was giving you everything, though. Just like he’d promised.  

Both of you felt so incredibly good; you were drunk and Atsumu was high - your fixes were each other. And you were both about to peak. 

It came slower than you expected - it really felt like Atsumu was building you up one thrust at a time, and each time his hips collided with yours you felt just a bit closer to cumming. You were curling your toes in preparation and your head was rolling around the pillow beneath it, shaking back and forth as if you were denying it because an orgasm meant this was over.  

And then you heard Atsumu moan loud. He hadn’t finished, not yet, but he was definitely about to. Something about it told you to just cum, and as his hand found yours and held on tight to it, you did. 

He grunted and cursed and came when he felt you tighten so much, pulsating around his throbbing cock desperately. It felt like your body was begging to be filled by his dick, by his cum, by him. And there was no place he’d rather be. 

Everything was you. You were all he could feel or smell or hear; the warmth of your cunt, your perfume mixed with sweat, your delicate whines of his name; your hand squeezing his, your shampoo that was so familiar, the sounds of him sliding in and out you. And he was thinking about all of it at once. 

He had never felt so good in his life, he knew that for a fact. He squeezed your hand hard and filled the room with broken moans as he thrust even quicker than before, trying to carry on this feeling for as long as possible. 

Even when he had finished and the over stimulation got uncomfortable, those thoughts didn’t go away, because unlike every one night stand he’s had, this one wasn’t over the moment he came.

He didn’t pull out. He didn’t let go of your hand. He didn’t even stop moaning. There was one thing Atsumu wanted, and it was to kiss you. 

So he did. He kissed you hard, taking hold of your jaw to keep you kissing back as his body relaxed. He was basically laying on top of you now, lapping his tongue into your mouth because he wasn’t ready to be disconnected from you. He couldn’t handle being apart right now, and you were the only person who had ever put up with his odd clinginess for this long so he planned on stretching it out. 

But you needed to catch your breath; both of you were still panting through the kiss, and it was too much bordering on uncomfortable. So you pushed his face away, only a bit, but for Atsumu it was still too far from you. 

And he realized that right now, he was feeling the desperation and vulnerability his partners usually feel when the sex is over and Atsumu stops letting them kiss him; when he got too wrapped up in his own weird insecurity to let his clinginess show and the desire for attention and affection was gone.

Right now he was performing without a script. He didn’t have something to say that was practiced and proven successful, something that would make you swoon and fall under his spell. 

He was panicking, because he didn’t want to have to convince you to let him keep kissing you. He knew that sometimes he couldn’t help being stuck to people like glue, but that’s why he’d worked so hard to grow out of those things. To see relationships like these as menial and only for pleasure. To not get attached to anyone who would only end up ripping themselves away from him.

He held onto you just a bit tighter, as if that would make you stay. Because despite his fears and doubts and insecurities, he really wanted you to. 

“Don’t go,” he said, his eyes shut tight and voice a sad strained. 

You were literally taken aback by his words. You needed to take a second to realize what he had just said, to examine his face and see that he meant it. 

“Atsumu…” 

He finally gave out, falling and tucking his face into your chest, catching his breath and pulling his cock out of you and putting himself back together. 

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked, bringing your linked hands up to his lips. 

“I was going to stay until you kicked me out, babe.” 

“I was never going to kick you out.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He scoffed. “Yeah.” It was annoying how you could always see right through him, but right now he wasn’t going to worry about anything besides kissing each of your fingers. 

After a long moment, you tried tugging your hand away. “Can I have my hand back?”

He pretended to think about it before replying. “Why?” 

“Because it’s my hand.”

He genuinely hesitated before letting it go, because he felt like everything would unravel if he did. He tried not to think about it.

“Thank you,” you said with a giggle that Atsumu loved, and then he felt both of your hands in his hair. His eyes widened at the feeling. 

With the head scratches he was really able to relax, and you were basically squished underneath him but you didn’t care. 

All Atsumu thought about was you. He wondered if he should tell you, but no words came to him. Anything he said would probably be gibberish, anyway. He couldn’t convey the way he felt in words that would make sense, and even though he knew the two of you should have some kind of discussion he decided it could wait. He felt okay in this serene uncertainty, because he had a feeling you were staying right there with him. He trusted you enough to believe that. 

There was only one thing worth saying. One thing that he meant, that you would hopefully understand without explanation. 

“I hope this never ends.” 

If that moment did last until the end of time, neither of you would mind. 

“Then make it last forever.” 

- 

this has a part two! 

[xiao-isms]

Hello I just recently found your Sub Xiao things and oh my god thank you for the food 😍😍 If ur taking requests, Reader with a strap on with a dildo that can vibrate, and Xiao taking it ? 👀 Multiple orgasms would be fun, but anything you write is excellent so I don’t mind where you take this 😳

— dirty.

character. xiao

content warnings. multiple orgasms, semi dirty talk, verbal humiliation, cum eating, a little bit of cross-dressing. note that reader does have a strap-on but i tried to make it as gn as possible !

word count: 1.7k words

voicemail. agshs thank u sm anon! i really liked writing this one so i hope you enjoy <3 ps sorry if the ending is rushed, i recently started uni so ive been superrr busy lately

you slid a hand up xiao’s milky thigh and underneath his blush pink pleated skirt with a mischievous grin on your lips. halting for a moment, you took the opportunity to squeeze that soft, meaty flesh that you loved so dearly, pressing wet kisses and angry red hickies across his skin. once satisfied with your work, you pull away and lift your head to look the mighty yaksha right in his now watery eyes and archons, you doubted even the lord of geo himself would believe you if you told him how pathetic his war-hardened adeptus looked at this very moment, all from a few simple touches. the sight was laughable, really; his hard cock protruded from his pretty little skirt, precum already beginning to stain the garment, accompanied by a face so flushed you swore you could see steam emerging from the top of the other's head. you grabbed the man by his chin and yanked him forward. "you're fucking disgusting." the words came out a bit harsher than intended but xiao, oh xiao, he loved it. he loved it when you made him feel absolutely deplorable; when you broke him until he felt like he couldn't be fixed. he didn't respond, just looked at you with hunger, like he was silently begging you to fuck his brains out.

you could feel a primal need rumbling from deep inside your chest. “does that turn you on?” you asked with a cheeky grin that only seemed to be getting larger by the second. the petite man whimpered in your tight hold, nodding ever so slightly but much too embarrassed to give a direct response. “how naughty of you, xiao. so shy, and yet so, so dirty.” you interlocked your lips with his, sliding your tongue in his small mouth as soon as you got the chance. it was messy and sloppy and it felt like xiao hadn’t kissed anyone a day in his life, saliva running down the sides of his pointed chin while his mouth hung open, completely pliant, but it was so hot. you were the first to pull away which only made the adeptus whine in a desperate, high-pitched voice.

“so needy,” you whispered in the shell of his ear, rubbing his sensitive sides. “you want it? you want my cock in you, pretty boy?” he makes a sound of affirmation, one that you can’t quite make out, but one nonetheless. xiao shouldn’t be acting like this, he knows he shouldn’t—he’s a yaksha, a seasoned demon slayer, and yet, whenever he’s with you like this, he just can’t seem to control himself. he thrusted his little hips into thin air with vigor in what seemed to be an attempt to get some kind of friction, something—anything—to soothe his aching, leaking dick. “ah, ah,” you hummed, gripping his waist so tightly you were both positive there would be bruises there the next morning. “the only way you’re going to cum tonight is with my cock plowing into your tiny hole.”

the way his face contorted slightly and his brows furrowed while fresh, blood-hot tears ran down his flushed cheeks only spurred you on further. you spread his legs as far as possible, yanking both his cute panties and tight skirt off, throwing it behind you without care. you haphazardly coated your fingers in saliva before inserting them inside your boy with newfound fervor, eager to fuck him until he couldn’t think straight and was unable to scream anything other than your name. he moaned and cried and whimpered as you pumped your wet digits in and out of his hole. the adeptus whined, he was so close, so close, but he desperately wanted to be good for you-- and there's hardly anything that he wouldn't do to achieve that, even if it meant holding back his own orgasm. you scissored your middle and index finger, adding a third once you were sure xiao was stretched well enough. soon, you were able to thrust your digits in back and forth freely while the other's body continuously spasmed and shook with close to unbearable pleasure.

too impatient to keep waiting to enter the small man, you pulled your fingers out entirely, the act ripping a loud wail from your lover. "wh...w-why'd you stop?" the words were slurred and almost incomprehensible—it sounded something akin to what someone drunken on sex would say, certainly not a powerful immortal such as himself. the question truly makes you wonder if he'd actually been paying attention to your previous statement or if he really was that incoherent already. how cute, you hadn't even started and here he was, a drooling, stupid mess. you didn't respond, instead opting to press your lips against his, thrusting your tongue deep into his mouth once again. whether or not he understood you before didn't matter, the night would end the same way: with xiao becoming an inchoate husk of a being, only able to give as much pleasure as he received.

quickly, you fastened the harness onto your waist, clicking the straps in place. the plastic toy connected to the o-ring of the strap-on was useful in more ways than one; you knew the both of you’d love it as soon as you saw it. slowly—or, as slowly as you could, patience thrown to the wind long ago—you slid inside of your boy with ease, his breath hitching in the most adorable ways. you smirked and wrapped your fingers around the small device that activated the dildo. “are you ready?” before the man under you had a chance to answer, you clicked the 'on' button, the sex toy whirling to life. for a second, you thought you could see hearts in xiao’s teary, amber eyes. he looked so, so beautiful like this; spreading his legs and moaning for you like a cheap hooker. nimble fingers landed on his waist once again, allowing your hips to slam against the meat of his thighs. his mouth hung agape in shock at the sudden movement, whimpers and whines spilling from those pretty, swollen lips. "a-ah! mmph, p-please go s—oh!—" the words seemed to have fallen dead on his tongue due to a particularly well aimed thrust, hurling him forward. every little movement felt so good, like he was on cloud nine, and oh god, don't even get him started on the way the pseudo cock vibrated in him, making his head go blank with overwhelming lust. he could feel that familiar heat stirring in his abdomen, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"mm, 'm gonna cum, ooh, g-gonna cum, p-please!"

with one more rough, domineering push of your hips, he came over the newly washed bed sheets. you slowly came to a stop and slipped your fingers over the head of his now softening sex, swiping away a hefty amount of your lover's seed and putting it towards his face. "open.” you demanded, inserting your moist digits in his mouth. his red, puffy lips wrapped around them, lazily licking you clean. "good boy," you praised as you pulled your fingers from him. "do you like that? you like eating your own cum like a filthy whore, hm?" he didn’t respond, apparently much too fucked out to even nod. you pulled the man’s cheeks together, leaning down and pressing the tip of your nose to his own.

“i asked you a question.”

his mouth opened slightly at the deep, commanding tone of your voice; he was trying to answer you, he was trying to be good, but his mind was so fuzzy he could hardly breathe. with much struggle, he moves his head up and back down. the action was hardly noticeable with how subtle it was, but you took pity on the poor yaksha, placing a kiss that he felt was almost too gentle considering the current situation. you heard a whimper erupt from xiao and a small, close to inaudible humming sound could be heard within the quiet room.

oh.

you had forgotten about that.

the adeptus trembled underneath your form with overstimulation. he feared he was going to cum again, untouched; he could feel it in the way his dick was beginning to harden again, the way the muscles in his stomach churned and tightened in the most delightful ways, ways that made him feel lightheaded and painfully aroused. you were silent, watching your lover’s face scrunch up with a glint of pure lust clear in your half-lidded eyes. you begin to rock your hips back and forth again, only moving a centimeter an inch this time. xiao couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt inside him, how his slick walls clenched and unclenched around your barely moving cock, making the smallest squelching noises.

it was all so filthy.

with that thought, the warm coil in his lower body burst and he was positive that he was seeing stars from how hard he’d just orgasmed. it was ego-boosting, really, knowing that only you could touch him like this, look at him like this. you hummed, increasing the pace of your thrusts until xiao was crying and incoherent, garbled whines falling from his mouth. “s-sen—o-oh fuck!” tears clouded his vision as you abused his prostate, taking advantage of that sensitive spot inside him. with heavy breaths, you leaned down to look at him directly, the smell of sweat and sex prominent on both of your bodies. “you’re such a good boy, xiao,” you commended between grunts and quiet moans. you brushed his messy hair back so you could see the pleasure on his flushed face, planting kisses on each of his cheeks. he keened at the attention, throwing his arm over his face to hide from the embarrassment.

“you take my cock so well, such a brave boy.” you knew he loved to be showered in praise more than anything, even more than he loved to be pinned down and degraded. he felt as if he’d cum at any second, the way the silicone toy felt inside him was more than exhilarating and your occasionally words only added to that addicing feeling. nimble fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, hard and dripping precum, preparing itself for its third orgasm. you finished him off with just a few strokes, his small form twitching with overstimulation. you slowly came to a stop and cupped his red face with your hands.

“what am i ever going to do with you, baby?”

[burnedbyshoto]

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero. 

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping. 

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again. 

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed. 

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for. 

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch. 

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too. 

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick. 

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it. 

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!” 

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

���Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist. 

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay. 

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again. 

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you. 

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you. 

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

[anotheronechicagobog]

Matt helping pregnant Sylvie through her pregnancy HC

Matt has wanted to be a dad for years

It didn't work out with Hallie or Gabby so he was afraid it might never happen

But then, he and Sylvie get together, and get married after dating for a year, and eight months after their wedding day Sylvie greets him home from a construction site with a smile and a positive pregnancy test

He is ECSTATIC

He spends the next weeks until they can announce it on cloud nine (Kelly knows that something is up but just thinks he's getting great sex)

But at the same time... It's also completely panic inducing

Their job is dangerous, and since patients are unpredictable Sylvie's job is arguably more dangerous than his (she's been held at gunpoint far more than he'd like to acknowledge)

So he's on edge every time they're on shift, he's so mind numbingly happy, but he's so, so worried

They responded to a nasty multiple car pile up as a house, Casey had just finished helping free a family from their vehicle when he looked over to where Sylvie was treating the drunk jackass that had started this whole mess, she was trying to give him an IV and get him to stay seated on the gurney, Matt had turned to look at her just in time for this guy to punch her

Matt saw red

Sylvie fell flat on her back and cried out in pain

Matt was so thankful that Severide acted at the same time, so he was able to run straight to Sylvie

'Sylvie are you okay?!'

'I'm fine'

'You got hit hard and fell on your back, you could have a concussion... You could have miscarried! We need to get you to med now!'

Matt was so focused on getting Sylvie into an ambulance that he didn't realize he'd revealed their secret three weeks before they planned

This isn't pointed out to him until after Manning completed Sylvie's ultrasound and told them both she and the baby was just fine, but they were still going to need to wait for her CT results

'Uh... Matt, we should probably talk about what happened at the scene'

'Yes, yes, you're right. I freaked out, and I know that we try to be as professional as possible on the job, but I'm sure that everyone understands-'

'No, Matt, not about that. You revealed my pregnancy to the whole firehouse'

'Ohhhhhhh... Shiiiit. I'm sorry.'

'Dont worry about it. But you get to go tell them we're both alright'

'Fair enough'

So after Sylvie's CT came back clear, Matt took a deep breath and walked into the waiting room where the entire firehouse was waiting

'Sylvie's fine, everyone. Her CT came back clean'

Severide stood up, 'And the baby?'

'The baby's fine, they're both fine'

Cheers erupted, startling the charge nurse

The happy couple received congratulations from everyone they knew for the next week

Sylvie's morning sickness is okay, always happens in the afternoon around 4:15, but other than that she's okay, still Matt has taken to keeping a stash of ginger ale and saltines in his locker, as well as packs of all the cookies and chips that Sylvie craves

He makes all her favourite foods whenever he can

He always asks for extra ultrasound pics at the doctor's office so that he can put one up in his locker

When Sylvie hit her second trimester she started to get a lot of joint and muscle pain

Matt went to great lengths to research every muscle/joint soothing cream or method he could find

He also took a maternity massage class, Sylvie was so surprised when he revealed that to her but was so grateful

Her back starts to hurt towards the beginning of the third trimester so Matt searches for two days and goes to multiple stores to find the highest rated pregnancy pillow

The pillow helps so much, that she does more that sleep with it

She starts bringing it out into the living room, sitting on it, cuddling it

Matt knows it's ridiculous, but he's jealous of a pillow

He tries not to let it get to him, but everyone notices

'Dude, it's a pillow. How could you possibly be jealous of a pillow?'

'Severide. Shut it.'

One day Sylvie sighs, grabs the pillow, and a pair of scissors and tells him to cut up the pillow

'What?'

'Me using this pillow us clearly upsetting you, so, here. Go ahead'

'Sylvie, no, I know how much comfort this pillow brings you, I just... I miss holding you'

'Well, want to cuddle now?'

'Always'

Sylvie's third trimester is a doozy, her morning sickness comes back full force and with a vengeance

It's so bad that she has to be prescribed medication

She'd gone off physical work and to desk work in her second trimester just because of how volatile some of her patients were, but she ended up having to go on maternity leave earlier than expected because of how bad her pregnancy symptoms got

He loves her so much, and as they get closer to the due date he starts to worry because Julie died in delivery, what if the same thing happened to Sylvie?

When Sylvie did finally go into labour (early) Matt was being held hostage by an arsonist

Perfect, right?

Matt is rushed to the hospital by officer Atwater, just in time for the birth

They had a beautiful baby girl who they name Andrea Briana, after Andy and Brian, two of their most beloved friends

She smiles just as bright as her mother and has the same twinkle in her eyes as her father and is the light of both their lives

Their baby girl ends up being their first but not only child, as they take in the Darden boys when Griffin seeks him out

It's a little rough at first, but soon enough Andrea has both boys wrapped around her finger

[doubleleoenergy]

iv. Lolita, Lolita Series

Hey Lolita, hey! Hey Lolita, hey! I know what the boys want, I'm not gonna play.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of relationship violence, oral (female receiving), pet names, dirty talk

Words: 2240

Summary: Andy’s falling at y/n’s feet, just like all the other boys before.

Six days. It had been six agonizing days since their encounter at the club, and Andy Barber was losing his cool. The nightly, and sometimes midday, jerkoff sessions weren’t quite enough to satisfy his hunger.

Things with y/n had been the same, as if their little blowjob fest hadn’t happened. They continued to carpool to the office, continued to be friendly back at home, and y/n continued to tease him as always. She’d wear her tight and barely there clothing around the house and the office and had even started walking around in her towel after her showers. Andy didn’t mind the view, and neither did the boys, stuttering and stammering at the sight of her. But again, it wasn’t enough. 

That morning y/n greeted him with another breakfast and coffee before work, donning a black long sleeve crop top with a slit across to give him the view of just a bit of cleavage. Her light denim jeans were practically painted on her body, her perky ass bouncing with each step in her black strappy heels.

“You look good, y/n. As always.” Andy commented, taking a sip of his coffee. He thought a bit of flirting might help his case of getting closer to his little Lolita, though she didn’t seem phased by the compliment.

“Thanks Andy, we should get going. I’m shadowing you with your clients today, remember?” Her internship had been stellar, learning valuable information about the field and her future career. The only problem occasionally was Neal, who tended to linger too long at her desk and always stared down her shirt as he talked. Normally she would put the man in her place, but it offered a good source of jealousy from Andy, which she couldn’t pass up.

Their ride to the office was filled with conversation as Andy briefed her on their clients for the day, y/n taking notes in her notebook of all the critical details. Though she probably wouldn’t need the notes, she had read over the client’s files for the past two days in anticipation.

Y/N sashayed down the hall in front of Andy to his office, and he watched her ass the entire time she moved, trying not to pop a boner before the workday even started. After arriving at the office door and unlocking it, the two got comfortable for their first client of the day.

“Are you nervous?” Andy questioned, eyes focusing intently on her.

“Of course not. I’m just eager to please.” Her tone was heavy with seduction, lips curving into a huge smile when Andy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

By the time they had finished up with their clients for the day it was nine o’clock, a much later day at the office for them since y/n had started her internship. The two were both starving since lunch, stomachs growling as they headed home for the evening.

“Jacob said he and the boys are going to see a midnight movie showing after the bar, won’t be back till late.” Y/N announced, fingers typing out a quick reply to Jacob.

“Alright, are you interested in going out for some food? I think it’s way too late to start cooking something. We can go to that Mexican restaurant up the street from the house if you want.” Andy suggested, glancing over at y/n as he parked the car in the driveway.

“That’s fine, let me go change really quick and then we can go.” Y/N walked straight through the garage doors and up into her room, getting herself refreshed for dinner. Andy decided to change as well, pulling on a pair of dark denim jeans and a grey Henley long-sleeved shirt that accentuated his muscles. He was honestly hoping that y/n might consider this a date but given how she seemed to avoid any movement in their relationship, it seemed unlikely.

Andy scrolled through his email on his cell phone, leaning against the kitchen counter as she walked down the stairs. His eyes met hers before traveling down to the tight burgundy floral mini dress, the thin spaghetti straps barely holding in her braless breasts as they poked out slightly above the fabric. Andy’s eyes continued lower to the slit in the dress, staring at where the slit hit mid-thigh and ended right at her hip bone. Was she not wearing any underwear?

“Okay, I’m ready.” Y/N’s black stilettos clicked against the hardwood as she made her way towards the door, headed towards his car once again. Andy trailed behind, his eyes roaming over her backside while his cock stirred in his jeans.

The restaurant was less than a mile from the house, a quick drive for them both, which was a relief considering how hungry they both were. The waitress came up shortly after they sat, a young perky blonde who seemed to be a little extra attentive to Andy, though he didn’t pay any attention to her. He was too busy watching y/n scanning the menu, chewing her bottom lip as she figured out what to eat.

“I’ll have a Coors Light and a southwest salad, please.” Y/N’s voice was soft as she spoke to the waitress.

“I’ll have a Coors as well with the street taco trio. Thank you.” Andy handed over their menus before returning his attention back to y/n. “Did you like sitting in on the meetings today?” He asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Definitely, it’s nice to fully see the process at work. Usually I’m filing the paperwork after a meeting, but today gave me the chance to start from the initial meeting to the filing.” The waitress arrived with their drinks as she finished her sentence, taking a long swig from her beer.

“I’m glad. We make a good team, don’t you think?” Andy had to admit, she was the most impressive intern they’d had since he started there. But the question isn’t just about work, hinting at the possibility of them together.

“We’re alright.” She responded, shrugging her shoulders. Andy sighed, six days of waiting to figure out anything between them was torture, just like the mind games she was playing with him now. His thoughts are briefly interrupted by the arrival of their meal, using the break in their conversation to consider his next words carefully. It was like he was building a case as he had done hundreds of times at work, though this case was a bit higher stake for him.

“Look, in the club I know I said we couldn’t do this...do us.” Good start, Andy-boy. “But we’re both adults as you said. It’s not weird, unless we make it weird, and if we keep things private for a while so as not to hurt Jacob...why don’t we give it a try? Us, I mean.”

Y/N chewed thoughtfully on her meal, listening to his case and reflecting on his words. “I’m not a relationship girl, you know that.” The thought of being in a committed relationship with anyone terrified her, a trigger from her family trauma. What happens if Andy is kind at first, but later turns into a monster like her father? Would she really want to end up like her mom? No thank you.

“I do know that, but I also know that there’s something between us, y/n. You can’t deny that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have done what you had.” Andy retorted, taking a bite of his tacos.

“Everything I do is because I want to do it.” She declared, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. “A relationship is different, Andy. Why tie yourself down to someone? It’s not like it ever lasts, you should know that firsthand.” She’s referring to his divorce, the thought that Andy even wanted to be committed to someone else after that was confusing.

“Maybe that’s true, or maybe we’re just waiting for the right person to change our minds.” He’s leaning on the table now, his eyes locked on hers to gauge her reactions.

Y/N’s eyebrow raises at his response, her head tilting to the side. “And you’re trying to say that I’m that right person?” Her eyes roll back into her head, straightening her body and digging back into her meal. “You’re thinking a little too highly after one hookup.”

Andy knows they’re going in circles with the conversation and so he drops it, finishing up their meals in silence and not protesting when y/n asks to split the bill. Definitely not a date.

The ride back to the house is uncomfortably silent, y/n playing Candy Crush on her phone to distract herself from any further talk about a relationship. Y/N is about to go up the stairs to her room when they arrive, but Andy stops her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back over to him.

“What are you doing?” She asks, brows furrowed as her eyes meet his blue hues. Andy tugs her closer by her waist in response to her question, lips hovering inches away.

“Think about it, we’d be good together, you can’t deny that.” And with that Andy is leaning in, pressing his lips passionately against y/n’s own. Without any hesitation y/n reciprocates the kiss, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer, if that was even possible.

Their lips dance together in the perfect rhythm for a moment before Andy breaks the kiss to pepper wet kisses to the flesh on y/n’s neck. She rolls her head to one side to give him better access, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck when he nibbles on a sensitive spot. She lets him continue for a moment before pushing him gently off her, confusing laced across his face.

Y/N’s heels click against the hardwood as she starts walking down the hallway towards his bedroom door, stopping right in front of it and looking back at Andy, a cocky grin spreading across her swollen lips.

“I think it’s time you return the favor from the other night.” And with that she slips into his bedroom, Andy following quickly on her heels and shutting the door behind them. He watches, eyes blown wide, as she saunters over to the bed, sitting right on the edge of it. She leans her body back, her weight against her elbows, opening her legs to reveal her bare core, her heels firmly placed on the floor in front of the bed for balance.

“Don’t just stand there and stare, Andy. Get to work.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, practically crawling across the room, his knees hitting the soft carpet a foot away from her outstretched legs. His strong hands move from her knees up her thighs, pushing her dress up to her stomach to reveal her wet heat to him.

It was glistening like diamonds, just as beautiful as the rest of her body. He rests his hands on each of her inner thighs, pushing her legs slightly wider and locking his eyes with hers as he leans forward and licks a strip up her slit. His first taste of her is incredible, better than he could’ve imagined, and he wastes no time on diving in further, lapping at her core.

Andy’s beard tickles her pussy as he works his tongue into her, sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers instinctively grab at his hair, her grip tightening whenever he lapped at a spot that made her moan. She kept her eyes on him the entire time, loving the way he looked between her legs. She could get used to this.

Andy moved his head back, his pointer and middle finger rubbing against her wet folds before they dive in, curling deep and releasing a satisfied moan from her lips. “Your pussy is so pretty, so wet and delicious. My little Lolita.” There goes the pet name from the other night, though it was quite fitting for her.

His fingers find a good rhythm inside her, eliciting the prettiest moans from her lips. His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, though he knows right now it is all about her pleasure. He can tell her orgasm is building, moving his face back to suck at her clit while his fingers keep their pace in and out of her dripping core.

Her walls start to tighten, y/n seeing stars as she feels that familiar buildup in her stomach, tightening her grip on his hair. Andy’s eyes lock back on hers, a seductive smirk spreading across his lips.

“Let go, Lolita. Cum for me.” And just like that her orgasm rips through her, her walls tightening around his fingers as she pushes his face flush against her folds, allowing him to lap up her release.

She’s shaking by the time he pulls away, his beard covered in her slick, the sight alone giving her a sense of pride and ownership over him.

“That was incredible.” Y/N announces, adjusting her dress and standing back up, stepping towards the door of the bedroom. Andy’s jaw drops, his cock twitching as she walks away. “Where are you going? I’m hard as a rock right now.”

Y/N stops to look at him, her eyes trailing to the bulge in his jeans, shrugging her shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to jerk off to your fantasies of me as always.” And with that she opens the door and exits the bedroom, leaving Andy kneeling with frustration against the carpet.

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff​ @rattlemyb0nes​ @rootcrop @goldenboysteve​  @turtoix​  @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​  @ccmarvelxx ​

[kaz11283]

44 and 45 for writing prompts?

44) Close Your Eyes

45) Will You Marry me

Your Favorite Suprise

Warnings: fluff

Characters: Your favorite God of Mischief, Nat, Clint (brother, I know I have a weird problem ok?), Steve, Tony, Thor

Summary: you and Loki had been dating for a while now it only made since that he wants to take the next step.

Announcements: Ah yes, while I should be working on the next chapter of my series Im doing a Loki Request list...makes sense to me. I have decided to start posting a chapter a week and I have decided to start posting The chapters on Fridays. But I'll probably still be doing one shots and drabbles randomly during the week along with request. *its like really early in the morning here so if I am not making any sense i will probably post another update soon.* love you guys, thank you for the request! 💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~~

Loki had been distant all day, he wasnt in any of the normal places that he normally would have been. You had checked in the library, his room, even the lab none held signs that the god had been there all day.

"Guys, have you by any chance seen Loki?" You asked walking into the living room where your brother and Nat were wrestling, for some unknown reason, Thor and Steve sat watching.

"Tall guy, wears to much green, pointy hat?" Clint choked out from a chokehold. Sometimes you wondered if you were really the oldest with the way he acted.

"Last time I seen my brother he was heading out to the large balcony on the top floor with a rather heavy looking box." Thor called over his shoulder. "No no no Hawkman, you odviously doing it wrong. Let me show you." He said getting up walking over to the two on the floor.

"Whatever, he'll know where to find me I guess." You said jumping over the back of the couch sitting down next to Steve.

"Hey! No jumping on the furniture. I swear its like I live in a house full of kids between you and Parker jumping and flying around." Tony yelled from the kitchen door.

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at you. "Thor is trying to show them some Asguardian fighting moves. Nat picked up pretty fast, your brother on the other hand..."

"He does better in a roost high above the ground. Only reason I use to hate fighting with him is because he could climb higher than I could." You laughed.

"Ok Lord Thunder if you can do better be my guest." Clint took a step back allowing Thor to stand in. Thor gave a bellowing laugh and got in a fighting stance.

"My people invented these moves I can easily take down Nat."

After a few rounds and Thor definitly losing causing the room to howl with laughter at his confusion Loki walked in.

"So the man of mysteries returns. Where have you been darling." You asked as he came to stand beside you.

"Just working on a suprise for you my dearest." He laughed leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

"Please stop, there are young eyes in the room." Clint groaned from a recliner across from you causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yeah, if your going by shoe size." You mocked. Turning to Loki you looked at him. "What does the god of mischief have up his sleave for me?"

"Come dear, I would rather show you." He offered you his hand and you walked from the room.

He lead you to the room where the balcony was located and turned to you. "Close your eyes."

"Ummm why? You planning on pushing me off?" You laughed realizing that he had a serious look on his face. "Nevermind." You closed your eye, as soon as they were shut you felt a cloth wrap around your head. "If you wnted something like this all you had to do was ask." You smirked.

"Oh nine realms y/n. Get your mind out of the gutter for just a little bit." You couldnt see it but you knew he was rolling his eyes. "This is serious." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"Ok fine, serious, I can be serious for like 5 minutes. I cant guarantee the comments that will follow after the time is up though." You laughed.

"Sometimes I feels like I'm dating your brother." He huffed taking your hand and leading you onto the balcony.

"We are basically the same person, I just look alot better than he does in a cat suit." He let go of your hand just after walking out of the door and disappered.

"You know that mouth is one of my favorit things about you." He whispered in your ear cauing your heart to flutter. "Always quick to the punch, it never fails." He said kissing the side of your mouth.

"But my absolute favorit thing about you is your willingness to over look a persons flaws, to give everyone a chance, even if they dont deserve it. You have such an open mind forgiving everyone that you feel need forgiving. Looking for the good in a person and giving that person hope that maybe there is hope left for them." This time he brushed your hair from your neck kissing you behind the ear sending a shiver down your spine.

"Loki you was never a bad person-" you saod trying to defend him aginst hisself

"I brainwashed your brother." He countered. "You didnt just do it for me though. You stood up for Wanda, for Bucky, you stand up for the underdogs that wouldnt have a chance other wise."

"Wanda needed a family, Bucky was Steves best friend and I seen how it hurt him for eveyone to be aginst him. Also brainwashed. Im kinda seeing a pattern here though." You smiled.

"Y/n, honestly would you jusy be quiet for a few more minutes." He sighed.

"Ok, lips are sealed. Continue telling me how great I am." He sighed again pulling you closer to the middle of the balcony.

"You have been my light in the darkest tunnel I had ever been in. When the others shut me out you were always there to let me know I wasnt alone. I could travel to all nine realms and never find another soul as caring and as trust worthy as you, who holds me at night when nightmares wake me up, who actually seen good in me and who has made me a better person." You felt him reach behind you and untie the knot from the blind, you kept your eyes closed as you felt him grab your hand again this time there was a slight pull. "Darling you can open your eyes."

When you opened them you were awestruck with the sight in front of you. Farie lights had been hung from the rafters causing a warm glow around the balcony, ivy and white flowers hand been drapped on the walls givingbthe whole place a cozy feel. You looked at Loki noticing him kneeling in front of you, you opened your mouth to make a comment but quicky shut it not wanting to ruin the moment.

"Y/n Barton there is no one else I would rather travel the nine realms with but you, I would walk across time and space to see you smile. Would you please do me the honor of being my princess? My Queen? For all eternity? Will you marry me?" He pulled out a small black box for his pocket and opened it revealing a silver band entwind with a beautiful type of black metal a small emerald sat nestled between the two holding the jewel in place. Your eyes shot up to his and tears started to flow. You didnt trust you voice in that moment son you simply shook your head.

He was on his feet in no time easily slipping the band on your finger before wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close to him. You placed your hands on either side of his face pulling him into you for a kiss. "Yes." You mumbled aginst his lips as he smiled into the kiss. "A million times yes!"

"We are going to have a wedding!" Thor yelled from the open door causing you both to jump. You looked up in time to see everyone that had been in the living room crowed around watching the two of you. "Lady y/n, a fine sister you will make!" Thor beamed picking you up into a crushing hug.

"You can have her! Ive had her as a sister long enough." Clint said beside you as he leaned down to kiss you cheek. "Congrats sis."

"You knew didnt you?" You smiled.

"Of course I did. Hes kinda old school, asked if it would be ok if he asked you. Nice guy, once you get past the whole mind control thing." You smacked his in the chest.

"In my defence you did try to shoot me woth an arrow that exploded." Loki said wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Ill take back the approval to marry my sister." He saod looking straight at him.

"No you wont, ive already said yes. Besides he really makes me happy. Truly honestly happy." You smiled looking up at Loki giving him another kiss.

~~~~~~

Tag list:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

[scoopsahoy]

hi can u do a sequel to the derek pregnancy fic where u were pregnant for a full nine months and go into labor one night when yall r asleep

ぺ  word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ birth

ꨃ  part one

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You opened your eyes to a sharp pain in your back and stomach, causing a sharp breath to enter through your nose.

“Jesus,” you whispered to yourself. You gently pulled Derek’s arm, which was wrapped around your stomach, off of you. You sat up with a struggle, as you were heavily pregnant. You looked at the alarm clock to see it was almost six o’clock in the morning.

The pregnancy was nine months, meaning the baby would be human. You found out at five months that it was going to be a girl, and Derek couldn’t wait to have a tiny version of you running around his loft.

It was a rough nine months. It destroyed your knees, hips, ankles, and gave you massive, dark stretch marks. You’d become insecure about them, but Derek didn’t care.

He was sad that you were insecure about them. He called them your ‘battle scars’, always making sure to make you feel better about yourself when you looked in the mirror.

Even having been with him for over three years, you’d never seen the sensitive side of him that came out when you got pregnant. He made you breakfast, massaged your feet, and would even help you wash your hair sometimes.

You loved it, you just wish he’d been like this the whole time you knew him.

Moving his arm woke him up, and he reached over and lightly ran his hand up and down your back.

“You okay?” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“I think so-”

Just then, you felt a massive puddle forming under you. It dripped onto the floor and you felt a pressure in your belly.

“Derek,” you said in a monotone voice, standing up. You looked at the wet spot on the bed, and he did too.

“Did you pee yourself?” he asked innocently.

“I think my water just broke.” That seemed to wake him up, because he immediately shot out of bed. “Get the hospital bag,” you told him as he slipped his shirt on. He nodded and practically ran to the other side of the loft, returning with a crossbody bag.

He helped you put your shoes on and when you stood back up, he took your hand, helping you to the elevator.

You’d never seen him so nervous and distraught, anxiety reeking from his body. When you got outside and to his car, he made sure you were strapped in before running to the driver’s side and zooming to the hospital.

When you arrived, he didn’t even bother parking straight. He dragged you inside, calling out for help. You both looked up to see Scott’s mom, Melissa. You let out a sigh of relief when she ran over, followed by a nurse with a wheelchair.

You eagerly sat down in it, letting them wheel you to a room you didn’t even know the number for.

Once you were changed into a hospital gown, you laid in the bed, an IV in your arm, and bracelets on your wrist. Derek sat next to you, holding your hand.

“Have you had any contractions yet?” Melissa asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Sometimes water will break before contractions start, but they should get here soon.”

“I didn’t think you worked in obstetrics,” you said as you adjusted the blankets.

“I don’t. I figured I’d stay with you for a minute though. Is there anyone you want to call?”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.” You looked at Derek. “Can you grab me my phone?” He nodded, pulling it out of his pocket. “Thanks.” You opened it and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name Stiles.

Stiles was one of your best friends, and he was eager when you announced the pregnancy. He told you he wanted to be there when you gave birth and made you promise you’d tell him when you went into labor.

Even if it was six in the morning.

You held the phone up to your ear, hearing it ring a few times.

“Hello?” said the groggy voice on the other line.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

“Sleeping,” he said simply.

“Well, I figured I’d let you know I’m in labor, but if you wanna go back to sleep you can.”

“You’re what?” he yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“My water broke. I’m at the hospital.”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.”

“I can’t control-” He hung up. “-when the baby comes.”

You sighed and smiled at Derek.

“I’ll come back when you start pushing, okay?” Melissa said, giving you a smile.

“Okay. Thank you.” She left with a smile.

“Are you gonna call your parents?”

“I never even told them I was pregnant.”

“Really?”

“Did you forget I haven’t talked to them in years?”

“I just figured this might be something they should know. You know, since they’re about to be grandparents and everything.”

You sighed. “I’ll call them sometime. Just not now.”

He nodded. “I’m gonna go get some food from the vending machine, do you want anything?”

You nodded. “A Snickers would be nice.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed you. “Be right back.”

No one else had seen this side of Derek except you. He wasn’t the same person he was to Stiles, or Scott, or even his uncle, Peter. With you, he was soft and sweet, always making sure you had everything you needed and wanted. You doubted anyone would believe you if you told them half the things he’d done for you over the years, even before you started dating.

Fifteen minutes went by quickly, and before you knew it, Stiles ran into your room, his shoes squeaking and his breath heavy.

“You haven’t given birth yet, have you?” he asked as he sat next to your feet.

���Nope, not yet. I haven’t even gotten contractions yet.”

“Is that good?”

“Just means it’ll take longer.”

He nodded. “Great.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Just then, you felt a heavy pressure and pain course down from your stomach to your legs, your hand reaching for Stiles’, which was right next to your knee.

“Nevermind,” you groaned, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply.

He winced and an ‘Ow’ left his lips.

When the contraction died down a moment later, you let go of his hand. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” he said, shaking his hand.

“That was not what I was expecting it to feel like.”

“Better or worse?”

“Way worse,” you chuckled. “Jesus. The next few hours are gonna be Hell.”

‘Few hours’ was an understatement. It was now seven p.m., and your contractions still weren’t anywhere near as close as they needed to be.

You’d tried everything the midwife suggested to speed it up: walking around the room, sitting in a chair, sitting on a yoga ball, drinking tea and water, peeing, laying on your left side, and you even tried falling asleep.

But none of it worked.

At this point, you were sweating, crying and in some of the worst pain you’d ever felt.

The doctor decided to see how far dilated you were, which was two centimeters, eight away from being able to push.

“On the bright side, you’ll be able to deliver naturally,” she said.

“What does that mean?” Derek asked.

“No c-section.” You both let out a sigh of relief. “Once you get to four centimeters you’ll be in active labor, which shouldn’t be as long as early labor.”

“Thank God,” you whispered.

Even though it wasn’t as long as early labor, active labor was ten times more painful. It was definitely the absolute worst pain you’d ever felt.

But your boyfriend and best friend were there for you the entire time, even through your random bursts of anger, sadness, and pain.

When you were told you were at nine centimeters, you looked at Derek.

“I can’t do this, I don’t think I can do it.”

He stood up and leaned over you, gripping your hands. Stiles stood at the other side of the bed.

“Hey,” he said, softening his voice. “Are you kidding me? If anyone can do this, you can do this.” You let a tear fall. “Babe, I’m scared, too. But guess what? We’re gonna have a baby. A tiny version of you. We’re gonna have a little girl. And she’s gonna be awesome. Okay?”

You nodded. “I love you,” you whispered. You looked at Stiles. “Be ready for me to crush your hand,” you laughed.

“I’m ready,” he said somewhat reluctantly. “Just try not to break any bones.”

You smiled.

“Alright, Y/N. You ready?”

Screams filled the room, both Stiles and Derek wincing at how hard you were squeezing their hands.

You pushed a total of six times before you felt a massive relief of pressure, and you gasped for air. Your cheeks were soaked with sweat and tears, your legs tingly.

You let go of their hands and, just like before, Stiles shook his hand in the air. You breathily chuckled at his reaction as the nurses wrapped the crying newborn in a blanket.

They handed her to you, now having stopped screaming, and you started crying all over again.

She was beautiful. She had the same pale green eyes that Derek had, and bright red hair.

“She’s a ginger,” he whispered.

“My dad is, maybe that’s who she got it from,” you said.

Only a little while later, Derek was next to you in the bed, and you both just watched her sleep in his arms.

You’d never seen him so happy. He had a soft smile plastered to his face and he was a natural at holding her.

You let Stiles hold her, and, just like your boyfriend, you’d never seen him happier. An uncontrollable grin formed as he sat in the recliner with her, letting you and Derek have open arms for a little while.

Once Scott and the rest of the group arrived, you decided to tell them the name you settled on: Charlotte Allison Hale, Charlie for short. Allison was your best friend before she died, and you figured it would be a nice tribute to her.

Scott loved it, and it pleasantly surprised you. You were worried it would make him sad, and you knew it probably did, but you were glad he liked the name, too.

You spent the next few days in the hospital, learning how to change diapers, breastfeed, and all of the other essential things included in being new parents.

Stiles was there every day, other than going to school. He went to his classes, went to lacrosse practice, and then immediately came back to the hospital.

You liked being at the hospital and having some help from the nurses and Stiles, but being able to go home and spend time just the three of you was your favorite thing in the process.

And it made your heart melt watching Derek with her. For the first few days he didn’t let you get up during the night and insisted he go check on and feed her with the bottles of breastmilk you had pumped while at the hospital.

You were finally in a place where you were genuinely happy with everything in your life. And you couldn’t have asked for a better one.

[writemarcus]

HITTING NEW HEIGHTS

BY MARCUS SCOTT

ORIGINAL RENT STAR DAPHNE RUBIN-VEGA TAKES YOU INSIDE THE IN THE HEIGHTS FILM

Qué quiere decir sueñito?” The disembodied voice of a girlchild ponders. “It means ‘little dream,’” responds an unseen authoritative figure, his feathery tenor with a soft rasp and tender lilt implying there’s more to the story.

Teal waves crash against the white sand coastal lines of the Dominican Republic and a quartet of children plead with the voice to illuminate and tell a story. Usnavi de la Vega (played by Anthony Ramos), sporting his signature newsboy flat cap and full goatee, begins to narrate and weave a tall-tale from the comforts of his beachside food cart: “This is the story of a block that was disappearing. Once upon a time in a faraway land called Nueva York, en barrio called Washington Heights. Say it, so it doesn’t disappear,” he decrees.

And we’re off, this distant magic kingdom ensnared within the winding urban sprawl of farthest-uptown Manhattan, the music of the neighborhood chiming with infinite possibilities: a door-latch fastening on tempo, a ring of keys sprinkling a sweet embellishment, the splish-splash of a garden hose licking the city streets like a drumstick to a snare fill, a manhole cover rotating like vinyl on a get-down turntable, the hiss of paint cans spraying graffiti like venoms from cobras and roll-up steel doors rumbling, not unlike the ultra-fast subway cars zigzagging underground. So begins the opening moments of In the Heights, the Warner Bros. stage-to-screen adaptation of the Tony Award-winning musical by composer-lyricist Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton) and librettist Quiara Alegría Hudes (Water by the Spoonful) that is set to premiere in movie theatres and on HBO Max on June 11, 2021.

This stunning patchwork of visuals and reverberations combine to create a defiant and instantly memorable collage of inner-city living not seen since Walter Hill’s 1979 cult classic The Warriors or West Side Story, the iconic romantic musical tragedy directed on film by Robert Wise and original Broadway director Jerome Robbins. With Jon M. Chu at the helm, the musical feature has all the trademarks of the director’s opulent signature style: Striking spectacles full of stark colors, va-va-voom visuals, ooh-la-la hyperkinetic showstopping sequences and out-of-this-world destination locations.

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A Kind of Priestess

Joining the fray of proscenium stage vets in the film is Broadway star Daphne Rubin-Vega, who originated the role of Mimi in the Off-Broadway and Broadway original productions of Rent. She returns to major motion pictures after a decade since her last outing in Nancy Savoca’s Union Square, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2011. When we caught up with Rubin-Vega, she was hard at work, in-between rehearsals with her In the Heights co-star Jimmy Smits on Two Sisters and a Piano, the 1999 play by Miami-based playwright Nilo Cruz, a frequent collaborator. Rubin-Vega netted a Tony Award nomination for Best Featured Actress in a Play for her role as the enraptured Conchita in Cruz’s Anna in the Tropics; that same year Cruz was awarded the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Drama, making him the first Latino playwright to receive the honor. Despite significant global, social and economic disruption, especially within the arts community, Rubin-Vega has been working throughout the COVID-19 pandemic.

“People around me have [contracted] COVID… My father-in-law just had it. I’m very fortunate,” Rubin-Vega said. “This collective experience, it’s funny because it’s a year now and things seem better. Last year it was, like, ‘Damn, how inconvenient!’ The one comfort was that, you know, it’s happening to every one of us. That clarity that this is a collective experience is much more humbling and tolerable to me.”

The last time Rubin-Vega graced Washington Heights on screen or stage, she acted in the interest of survival and hunger as a probationer released after a 13-year stint in prison and given a new lease on life as an unlicensed amateur masseuse in the basement of an empanada shop in Empanada Loca, The Spalding Gray-style Grand Guignol horror play by Aaron Mark at the LAByrinth Theater Company in 2015. In In the Heights she plays Daniela, an outrageously vivacious belting beautician with a flair for the dramatics, forced to battle a price-gouging real estate bubble in the wake of gentrification.

“She’s like the deputy or the priestess,” Rubin-Vega said. “Owning a salon means that you have a lot of information; you’re in a hub of community, of information, of sharing… it’s also where you go for physical grooming. It’s a place where women were empowered to create their own work and it is a place of closeness, spiritual advice, not-so-spiritual advice. Physical attention.”

She said, “Daniela also being an elder; I think she’s not so much a person that imposes order on other people. She’s there to bring out the best—she leads with love. She tells it like it is. I don’t think she sugar-coats things. What you see is what you get with Daniela. It’s refreshing; she has a candor and sure-footedness that I admire.”

With the film adaptation, Chu and Hudes promised to expand the universe of the Upper Manhattan-based musical, crafting new dimensions and nuances to two characters in particular: Daniela and hairdresser Carla, originally portrayed as business associates and gossip buddies in the stage musical. On the big screen they are reimagined as romantic life partners. Stephanie Beatriz, known to audiences for her hilarious turn as the mysterious and aloof Detective Rosa Diaz in the police procedural sitcom romp “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” co-stars as the fast-talking firecracker, Carla.

It’s been a year waiting, you know. It’s like the lid’s been on it and so we’re just so ready to explode.

Where Is Home?

“Well, Quiara and Jon really expanded on what Lin and Quiara originally created and now they’re partners—and not just work partners, right? But they’re life partners,” Beatriz said at a March press event celebrating the release of the film’s two promo trailers. “What was so gratifying to me as a person who is queer is to see this relationship in the film be part of the fabric of the community, and to be normal, and be happy and functioning, and part of the quilt they’ve all created.”

She continued, “So much of this film is about where home is and who home is to you. And for Carla, Daniela is home. Wherever Daniela is, that’s where Carla feels at home. I thought that they did such a beautiful job of guiding us to this, really, you know, it’s just a happy functioning relationship that happens to be gay and in the movie. And I love that they did that, because it is such a part of our world.”

Rubin-Vega said she had no interest in playing any trope of what one might think a lesbian Latina might look or act like, noting that the queer experience isn’t monolithic, while expressing that the role offered her a newfound freedom, especially with regard to being present in the role and in her everyday life.

“Spoiler alert! I felt like not wearing a bra was going to free me. Did I get it right? Am I saying that gay women don’t wear bras? No, it was just a way for me to be in my body and feel my breasts. To feel my femaleness and celebrate it in a more unapologetic way,” she said, laughing. “To be honest, I was really looking forward to playing a lesbian Latina. It’s something that I hadn’t really explored before. Latinos [can be] very homophobic as a culture, and I wanted to play someone who didn’t care about homophobia; I was gonna live my best life. That’s a bigger thing. It’s also like, maybe I’m bisexual. Who knows? Who cares? If you see that in the film, that’s cool too, you know?”

Stand-out performances abound, especially with regard to the supporting cast; newcomers Melissa Barrera (in a role originated by Tony Award winner Karen Olivo) and Gregory Diaz IV (replacing three-time Tony Award nominee Robin de Jesús) are noteworthy as the aspiring fashion designer Vanessa and budding activist Sonny. Olga Merediz, who earned a Tony Award nomination for originating her role as Abuela Claudia, returns to the silver screen in a captivating performance that will be a contender come award season. However, Rubin-Vega may just be the one to watch. Her performance is incandescent and full of moxie, designed to raise endorphin levels. She leads an ensemble in the rousing “Carnaval del Barrio,” a highlight in the film.

Musical Bootcamp

“We shot in June [2019]. In April, we started musical bootcamp. In May, we started to do the choreography. My big joke was that I would have to get a knee replacement in December; that was in direct relation to all that choreography. I mean, there were hundreds of A-1 dancers in the posse,” Rubin-Vega said. “The family consisted of hundreds of superlative dancers led by Chris[topher] Scott, with an amazing team of dancers like Ebony Williams, Emilio Dosal, Dana Wilson, Eddie Torres Jr. and Princess Serrano. We rehearsed a fair bit. Monday through Friday for maybe five weeks. The first day of rehearsal I met Melissa [Barrera] and Corey [Hawkins], I pretty much hadn’t known everyone yet. I hadn’t met Leslie [Grace] yet. Chris Scott, the choreographer, just went straight into ‘let’s see what you can do.’ It was the first [dance] routine of ‘In The Heights,’ the opening number. He was like, ‘OK, let’s go. Five, six, seven, eight!’”

Rubin-Vega said that she tried to bring her best game, though it had “been a minute” since she had to execute such intricate choreography, noting that they shot the opening number within a day while praising Chu’s work ethic and leadership.

“There was a balance between focus and fun and that’s rare. Everyone was there because they wanted to be there,” she said. “I think back to the day we shot ‘96,000.’ That day it wouldn’t stop raining; [it was] grey and then the sky would clear and we’d get into places and then it would be grey again and so we’d have to wait and just have to endure. But even the bad parts were kind of good, too. Even the hottest days. There were gunshots, there was a fire while we were shooting and we had to shut down, there was traffic and noise and yet every time I looked around me or went into video village and saw the faces in there, I mean…it felt like the only place to be. You want to feel like that in every place you are: The recognition. I could recognize people who look like me. For now on, you cannot say I’ve never seen a Panamanian on film before or a Columbian or a Mexican, you know?”

Another Notion of Beauty

Rubin-Vega’s professional relationship with the playwright Hudes extends to 2015, when she was tapped to [participate in the] workshop [production of]  Daphne’s Dive. Under the direction of Thomas Kail (Hamilton) and starring alongside Samira Wiley (“The Handmaid’s Tale,” “Orange Is the New Black”), the play premiered Off-Broadway at the Pershing Square Signature Center the following year. Rubin-Vega also starred in Miss You Like Hell, the cross-country road musical by Hudes and Erin McKeown, which premiered at La Jolla Playhouse in 2016 before it transferred to The Public Theater in 2018. With her participation in the production of In the Heights, she is among the few to have collaborated with all of the living Latinx playwrights to have won the Pulitzer Prize; Hudes won the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Drama for her play Water by the Spoonful, while Miranda took home the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Drama for Hamilton. Speaking on her multiple collaborations over the years, Rubin-Vega also acknowledged having known Miranda years before they would join voices.

“Lin to me is like a little bro or legacy; he’s a direct descent to me from [Rent author] Jonathan Larson, which is a bigger sort of all-encompassing arch,” she said, though she stressed that she auditioned like everyone else, landing the role after two or three callbacks. “Quiara and I have a wonderful working and personal relationship, I think. Which isn’t to say I had dibs by any means because…it’s a business that wants the best for itself, I suppose. […] So, when I walked in, I was determined to really give it my best.”

Life During and After Rent

Rubin-Vega has built an impressive resume over the course of her career, singing along with the likes of rock stars like David Bowie and starring in a multitude of divergent roles on Broadway and off. From a harrowing Fantine in Les Misérables and a co-dependent Stella in A Streetcar Named Desire to a sinister Magenta in The Rocky Horror Show, her evolution into the atypical character actor and leading lady can be traced back 25 years to January 25, 1996, when Larson’s groundbreaking musical Rent, a retelling of Giacomo Puccini’s 19th-century opera La Bohème, premiered at the New York Theatre Workshop. On the morning of the first preview, Larson suffered an aortic dissection, likely from undiagnosed Marfan’s syndrome and died at the age of 35, just ten days shy of what would have been his 36th birthday.

On April 29, 1996, due to overwhelming popularity, Rent transferred to Nederlander Theatre on Broadway, tackling contemporary topics the Great White Way had rarely seen, such as poverty and class warfare during the AIDS epidemic in New York City’s gritty East Village at the turn of the millennium. Rubin-Vega would go on to be nominated for the Tony Award for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical for her role as sex kitten Mimi Márquez, an HIV-positive heroin addict and erotic dancer.

  The show became a cultural phenomenon, receiving several awards including the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and four Tony Awards, including Best Musical. Rubin-Vega and members of the original Broadway cast were suddenly overnight sensations, recording “Seasons of Love” alongside music icon Stevie Wonder, receiving a photo shoot with Vanity Fair and landing the May 13, 1996 cover of Newsweek. Throughout its 12-year Broadway run, many of the show’s original cast members and subsequent replacements would go on to be stars, including Renée Elise Goldsberry, who followed in Rubin-Vega’s footsteps to play the popular character before originating the role of Angelica Schuyler in Hamilton, for which she won the 2016 Tony Award for Best Featured Actress in a Musical.

When the screen adaptation of Rent hit cinemas in 2005 under the direction of Chris Columbus, Rubin-Vega’s conspicuous absence came as a blow to longtime fans. The confluence of pregnancy with the casting and filming process of Rent hindered her from participating at the time. The role was subsequently given to movie star Rosario Dawson.

“First of all, if you’re meant to be in a film, you’re meant to be in it,” Rubin-Vega said. “That’s just the way it goes. It took a quarter of a century but this [In the Heights] is a film that I wanted to make, that I felt the elements sat right. I always felt that Rent was a little bit darker than all that. Rent to me is Rated R. In The Heights is not. It’s also a testament. Unless it’s sucking your soul and killing you softly or hardly, just stick with it. This is a business and I keep forgetting it’s a business because actors just want to show art. So, it’s really wonderful when you get a chance to say what you mean and mean what you say with your work. It’s a really wonderful gift.”

Rarely-Explored Themes

Like Larson’s award-winning show and the film adapted from it, In The Heights is jam-packed with hard-hitting subject matter, addressing themes of urban blight, immigration, gentrification, cultural identity, assimilation and U.S. political history. When Rubin-Vega’s character Daniela and her partner were priced out of the rent for her salon, most of her clientele moved to the Grand Concourse Historic District in the Bronx. Her salon, a bastion of the community, is met with a polar response when she announces she’s joining the mass exodus with the other victims of gentrification who were pushed out by rising rents. The news is met with negative response from long-time patrons who refuse to take the short commute to the new location. Daniela counters, “Our people survived slave ships, we survived Taino [indigenous Caribbean people] genocide, we survived conquistadores and dictators…you’re telling me we can’t survive the D train to Grand Concourse?”

The question is humorous, but also insinuates a more nuanced understanding of the AfroLatinidad experience in the Western world. The film also looks at the American Dream with a naturalistic approach. Leslie Grace, who plays Nina Rosario, a first-generation college student returning from her freshman year at Stanford University and grappling with finances and the expectations of her community, noted that while her character “finds [herself] at some point at a fork in the road,” she may not have the luxury to be indecisive because of the pressures put on by family, community and country.  

“The struggle of the first-generation Americans in the Latino community is not talked about a lot because it’s almost like a privilege,” Grace asserted. “You feel like it’s a privilege to talk about it. But there is a lot of identity crisis that comes with it and I think we explore that.” Speaking on the character, she elaborated: “Home for her is where her heart is, but also where her purpose is. So, she finds her purpose in doing something outside of herself, greater than herself and going back to Stanford for the people she loves in her community. I really relate to where she’s at, trying to find herself. And I think a lot of other people will, too.”

Worth Singing About

For Miranda, a first-generation Puerto Rican New Yorker that grew up in Inwood at the northernmost tip of Manhattan before attending Wesleyan University where he would develop the musical, this speaks to a larger issue of what defines a home.

“What does ‘home’ even mean? Every character is sort of answering it in a different way,” he said. “For some people, home is somewhere else. For some people, home is like ‘the block’ they’re on. So, that’s worth singing about. It’s worth celebrating in a movie of this size.”

Given the current zeitgeist, it’s no wonder why Chu, Hudes and Miranda decided to pivot with adapting the stage musical for the big screen, leaning in to tackle the plights and predicaments of DREAMers [children of undocumented immigrants seeking citizenship] stateside. In one scene, glimpses of posters at a protest rally read “Immigrant Rights are Human Rights” and “Refugees Are People Too.” Growing up in a multicultural household as a Latina with a Black Latina mother, a white father and a Jewish American stepfather, Rubin-Vega said she was used to being in spaces that were truly multiracial. Nevertheless, there were times when she often felt alien, especially as a du jour rock musical ingenue who looked as she did in the mid-1990s through the 2000s.

“Undocumented people come in different shapes and colors,” she noted. “To be born in a land that doesn’t recognize you, it’s a thing that holds so much horror… so much disgrace happens on the planet because human beings aren’t recognized as such sometimes.”

The film “definitely sheds light on that, but it also talks about having your dream taken away and its human violation—it’s a physical, spiritual, social, cultural violation,” Rubin-Vega said. “There’s a difference between pursuing dreams and being aware of reality. They’re not mutually exclusive. What this film does, it presents a story that is fairly grounded in reality. It’s a musical, it’s over the top… but it reflects a bigger reality, which is like an emotional reality…that people that are challenged on the daily, have incredible resolve, incredible resoluteness and lifeforce.”

She said: “Growing up, looking like me, I got to ingest the same information as everyone else except when it came time to implement my contributions, they weren’t as welcomed or as seen. The dream is to be seen and to be recognized. Maybe I could be an astronaut or an ingenue on Broadway? You can’t achieve stuff that you haven’t imagined. When it talks about DREAMers, it talks about that and it talks about how to not be passive in a culture that would have you think you are passive but to be that change and to dare to be that change.”

Dreams Come True

Dreams are coming true. Alongside the nationwide release of the much-anticipated film, Random House announced it will publish In the Heights: Finding Home, which will give a behind-the-scenes look at the beginnings of Miranda’s 2008 breakout Broadway debut and journey to the soon-to-be-released film adaptation. The table book will chronicle the show’s 20-year voyage from page to stage—from Miranda’s first drawings at the age of 19 to lyric annotations by Miranda and essays written by Hudes to never-before-seen photos from productions around the world and the 2021 movie set. It will be released to the public on June 22, eleven days after the release of the film; an audiobook will be simultaneously released by Penguin Random House Audio.

Hinting at the year-long delay due to the pandemic, Rubin-Vega said, “It’s been a year waiting, you know. It’s like the lid’s been on it and so we’re just so ready to explode.”

Bigger Dreams

“Jon [Chu], I think, dreams bigger than any of us dare to dream in terms of the size and scope of this,” Miranda said. “We spent our summer [in 2018] on 175th Street. You know, he was committed to the authenticity of being in that neighborhood we [all] grew up in, that we love, but then also when it comes to production numbers, dreaming so big. I mean, this is a big movie musical!”

Miranda continued, “We’re so used to asking for less, just to ask to occupy space, you know? As Latinos, we’re, like, ‘Please just let us make our little movie.’ And Jon, every step of the way, said, like, ‘No, these guys have big dreams. We’re allowed to go that big!’ So, I’m just thrilled with what he did ’cause I think it’s bigger than any of us ever dreamed.”

Speaking at the online press conference, Miranda said, “I’m talking to you from Washington Heights right now! I love it here. The whole [movie] is a love letter to this neighborhood. I think it’s such an incredible neighborhood. It’s the first chapter in so many stories. It’s a Latinx neighborhood [today]. It was a Dominican neighborhood when I was growing up there in the ’80s. But before that it was an Irish neighborhood and Italian. It’s always the first chapter in so many American stories.”

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

4 times you were a tease + 1 time he didn’t let you get away with it, feat. Frederik Andersen

Warnings: Smut, Edging, Teasing, Light bondage, Dom Freddie, Didn’t really spell check, the end is rushed cause I was over it. So this kind of sucks.

Length: 4.0k

You wouldn’t actually call yourself a tease. It wasn’t, like, a personality trait. But you would admit that you loved teasing your boyfriend. 

Starting goalie for the Toronto Maple Leafs, Frederik Andersen was the quintessential strong silent type, known for his calming presence in the net and out of it. The rare moments he did let his temper show, it was a shock to most. As his girlfriend, you had witnessed that temper than most others, but not often. He had confided in you that it had taken him a long time to reign in his anger and you respected that, were proud of him for it. 

The place you really wanted him to let go, though, was in the bedroom. You had only been dating for 6 months, sleeping together for 5 and you could tell he was holding back sexually. Whether it be his size or for fear of hurting or scaring you in some way, you weren’t sure. The sex was absolutely amazing...but there was something missing. 

You planned on addressing that.

I.

“Babe, are you ready?” Freddie’s voice echoed through the hallways of his apartment to where you stood in his master bathroom, putting the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“Yeah, can you come help me for a second?” You called back. You hear his heavy footsteps on the wood floors before he appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, looking fan-fucking-tastic in a navy blue suit. His eyebrows popped when he saw you standing at the mirror in only a black lace bra and a matching thong, hair and makeup done to the nines. 

Uncapping a tube of deep red lipstick, you took your time applying it, very aware that he was watching your every move with rapt attention. He had always loved your mouth. After a very drawn out lipstick application, you capped it, set it down on the marble counter, and reached for your dress hanging on the door in a dry cleaner bag. 

You made a point of ignoring Freddie as he continued to watch all your movements. You bent over, brushing your hair casually over your shoulder to give him an unobstructed view of your cleavage.  You caught him shifting out of the corner of your eye, his arms crossing over his chest and his body leaning against the doorframe. 

You slowly pulled the dress up your legs, letting him enjoy the show...and so you wouldn’t tear it because it was a very expensive dress and you happened to really like it. 

When you got to your hips, you shimmied a bit and you saw him twitch, as if he only just restrained himself from moving toward you.  Once you had the dress over your hips, you raised your head and looked at him innocently. 

“Help me with the zipper?” With that, you turned your back on him and waited, subtly watching him in the mirror. His face was serious as he stepped forward and slowly moved to stand behind you, the heat of him flush against the bare skin of your back. Instead of going straight to the zipper of your dress, his hands settled at your bares shoulders and wandered slowly down your spine before cradling your hips. You shuddered and heard his inhale sharply before he pulled you back against his chest and buried his face in your neck, laying a hot open mouthed kiss to your throat. Groaning, your eyes fluttered shut and you let your head fall to the side for him. 

When you felt his fingers inch under the waistband of your thong, your eyes snapped open and you stepped out of his grip. Looking over your shoulder, you almost laughed aloud at his surprised expression. “Zipper.” His beautiful face fell into a pout, but he did as instructed, leaving one chaste kiss on your exposed shoulder. With that, you brushed past him and made for the door, not even sparing him a glance as he mumbled something in Danish and skulked after you.

II.

The charity event had been a blast for many reasons. It was always fun to hang out with the other players and their SOs. 

You also had ample chance to tease your boyfriend. 

Light touches throughout the evening, leaning back against him when talking to other people, pressing your chest flush to his when you needed to pass by him. Like all the other players, he was expected to be social tonight so he couldn’t just drag you to the bathroom and fuck you, but you could tell he was beginning to lose patience. 

Unfortunately, before he could take you home and fuck the hell out of you, the two of you were invited out for a teammate’s birthday and ended up staying out until nearly 3:30 am. Both of you had been too exhausted to do much of anything when you got home. You had barely gotten your dress and makeup off before passing out. 

Now, the next day, you woke up by yourself, the bed noticeably colder without Freddie next to you. Patting around the bed, you eventually found your phone and checked the time. 11:15 am. Damn. You had really slept in. You were meeting your mom for lunch and shopping at 12. That worked out perfectly. 

Making quick work of a shower, make up and changing into something clean, you sauntered out to find your boyfriend sitting on the couch, playing video games. 

Walking up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and nuzzled your face into his neck, savoring the warmth and familiar smell of him. You wish you had woken up sooner so you could stay exactly like this for a few more hours. 

“Morning, min elskede,” he rumbled, turning to press a kiss to your temple. “Heading out soon?” You made a sound of confirmation against the fabric of his hoodie. Pulling your head up to rest your chin on his shoulder, you watched him play for a few seconds. “Can they hear me?” You asked. “Yeah,” he answered distractedly. He wasn’t particularly good at video games, but he was getting better. 

Pressing your face back into his neck, you let your lips only just graze the dribbled skin there. He inhaled sharply and went rigid. His hands stilling on the controller. “Think you can stay quiet?” You murmured against the shell of his ear. He didn’t answer so you moved your hands down the broad width of his chest until you reached the band of his sweatpants. Hesitating a long second, you reached down - not very easily because he was so damn tall - and palmed his cock. He let out a streak of curses and instinctively bucked his hips against your grip. You reminded him that you had an audience with a “ssshhhhh” against the shell of his ear. You felt his jaw tense against the side of your head as you let your fingers slowly massage his cock, which was growing harder and harder against your hand. When you loosened your grip, his own hand slapped over yours, forcing your fingers to tighten. You nipped his ear in retaliation and he sucked in another right breath, his hips jackknifing nearly off the couch.

Just as quick as you had started, you pulled away. “Shit, I’m late.” Which wasn’t actually a lie. Freddie looked at you furiously and you thought you had him this time. He certainly looked like he was ready to pull you over the couch and fuck you raw.  But much to your chagrin, he took a deep breath and looked away, his body still pulled right with anticipation.

Dammit. The cool,calm and collected had won again.

“Have fun,” he all but snarled at you. “Tell your mom hello.” Ignoring the pang of irritation, you kissed the top of his head and snatched up your purse. 

III.

You ended up spending the entire day with your mom, grabbing lunch, walking up and down the streets of Toronto, stopping into different shops, etc. You had a dinner tonight with Freddie and some other couples on the team, so you stopped by your own apartment to get ready. You were already pushing it with the time so you told Freddie to come pick you up instead of going to his place first.

An hour later, there was a rapping at your door. Giving yourself a final once over in the mirror, you opened the door to see Freddie looking as gorgeous as ever in another well tailored suit. He went completely still as he took you in. Whereas the dress you had worn to the charity event had been elegant and sexy in an understated way, this dress was more of a smack-you-in-the-face, grab-you-by-the-dick kind of sexy. Short and figuring hugging, it fit you like a second skin and made you feel like a goddess.

“Ready?” You asked nonchalantly. As you made to brush past him, his hand was suddenly at your elbow and he was hauling you back until your body met the open door. You grunted in surprise, but it was short lived as Freddie pressed his body against yours, dwarfing you even in your four inch heels. Hands framing your head, he pressed you back until you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

“I know what you’re doing,” he growled down at you. You could barely hold in your gasp as he pushed his knee up between your legs, the fabric of his dress pants coarse against the bare skin of your thighs. “And you need to watch it, little girl. It won’t end well for you.” A burst of heat in your belly and you were immediately wet.

You could have given in, let him have you right there in the hallway of your apartment building, let him release all that isn’t up frustration you knew he was keeping from you. You could feel it like like a pulse beneath his skin and a deep part of you screamed out for it. Instead, you mustered every ounce of willpower you had to rise onto your tiptoes and murmur against his lips, “I have no idea what you are talking about.” A soft peck and you were wiggling out of his grip and sauntering down the hallway, an extra swing in your hips.

IV.

The entire car ride to the restaurant, Freddie had his hand dangerously high on your thigh, his fingers nearly wrapping completely around your leg. You always loved his hands. Whether they were holding your hands, holding your leg, or holding your throat, you loved them. Now, you let your fingers toy with his, an absentminded display of intimacy you had both grown to enjoy.

When you reached the restaurant, Freddie rounded the car to open the door for you and help you out. You in made sure he got a nice view of your legs as you took your time stepping out of the car. Aware that people were staring, he kept an arm tight around your waist as he ushered you into the restaurant and toward the table the other couples were already seated at. It was Mitch who let out a good hearted wolf whistle and Steph who pinched him, even though she was smiling too. She stood up to greet you, arms open. “Damn, Y/N, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were single in that dress.” You laughed and embraced her.

The dinner was delicious, as usual, and the wine was making you all warm and fuzzy inside. As planned, Freddie couldn’t keep his hands off of you all night, from wrapping his arm around your shoulders to stroking his hand up and down your leg. After an hour or so, you excused yourself to use the restroom. Seeing the bathroom hallway and the women’s bathroom were empty, you took out your phone and furiously texted your boyfriend to meet you ASAP. He was at your side in less than 15 seconds, looking so concerned you almost felt bad for what you we’re about to do. Almost. 

“Y/N, what’s—“

Grabbing him by the front of his jacket, you dragged him into the women’s bathroom, shoving him up against the door once it was closed. Standing as far as you could on your tiptoes, you threw your arms around his neck and crushed your mouth onto his. It took him no time to respond instinctively, his mouth slanting over yours and his hands clapping over your hips. He lifted you like you weighed nothing and you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. He crossed the small bathroom in three long strides until he could set you on the sink counter. His hands thrust into your hair, moving your head to suit his needs. You bit his bottom lip and he groaned deep in reply, giving your hair a sharp yank. Tightening your grip around his neck, you pulled until he palmed your ass and pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, bending your body back and against his own until you could feel every taut muscle in his chest. One large hand was then running down your thigh and back up beneath your dress. You gasped into his mouth when we pushed two fingers slowly inside of you. He bit hard on your bottom lip, as if reminding you to not stop kissing him.  Just as you were slipping your hands under his shirt, a loud burst of male laughter from the hallway startled you both. Freddie leapt always from you, struggling to catch his breath, his cock straining against his dress pants. You put a hand to your chest, trying to catch your own breath. 

You didn’t blame him for his reaction. He had a reputation to uphold here. One that didn’t include breaking a sink while fucking his girlfriend in the bathroom of an upscale restaurant. As you straightened your hair, he was suddenly on top of you again, clenching your chin in his hand and forcing your head back to meet his gaze. “We’re finishing this tonight.” An order. You took a deep breath. “You know I’m meeting some out of town friends after this. I haven’t see them in 5 months.” Freddie’s expression was murderous and, for a small moment, you wondered if you had gone too far. But then he was leaning forward until you were nearly nose to nose. "You are going to pay for this." And then he was turning around and stalking out of the bathroom, nearly breaking the door in half. You gave yourself a few more seconds to compose yourself before following him back to the table.

V.

You ended up staying out until 3 am with your out of town friends and crashing at the apartment on an in town friend,having gotten too drunk to navigate your route home. You had shot Freddie a quick text explaining the situation and gotten a simple “ok” in response. Not abnormal for him. But you could practically feel his frustration through the phone. Good.

When you did finally make your way back to his apartment around 9 am the next morning, it was to hear the shower going in his room.  Shedding your own clothes, you took a long moment to admire the view of him standing beneath the shower head, rivulets of water running across the plains of his skin, the crevices of his muscles. You could stare at him for hours, but you were beginning to shiver. Knocking on the glass door to alert him to your presence, your heart twittered when he smiled softly and stepped back to make room for you. Stepping beneath the spray, you shivered as your body adjusted to the new temperature. The two of you showered in a comfortable silence and you found yourself being done before he was. He was definitely more of a leisurely showerer when he was at home.

Before you stepped out of the shower, you pushed yourself as far up on your tiptoes as you could go and placed a long, wet kiss to the strong column of his throat. He groaned and let his head fall back, his hands skimming down your sides to your hips. As he began to pull you tighter into him, you stepped out of his grip. Looking up at him, you almost laughed at his expression. 

“I’m all done.” A kiss to the center of his chest and you were stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel and heading back to the bedroom. You hadn’t even stepped into the bedroom before you heard the shower turn off and Fred’s feet hitting the marble floor. You squealed in surprise when he latched a hand over your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You hit it with a thud and didn’t even have time to recover before he was slamming his mouth on yours in a punishing kiss. You groaned and clutched at his shoulders. You squealed again when he plucked you up off the ground, you legs wrapping tight around his hips, one arm holding you to him effortlessly. Then the two of you were moving, walking through the bedroom and collapsing onto the bed.

When your back hit the mattress, you reached in between your bodies, desperate to have him inside of you. You fisted his cock, intent on guiding him inside of you, but he was faster. Grabbing both of your wrists in his hands, he shackled them to the mattress above your head. He pulled his mouth from yours, your breath still mingling.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It won’t be half that easy.”

“Fred-”

But he was moving off of you, landing a stinging slap to your hip. “Don’t move.” You didn’t think twice about disobeying him, only watched as he crossed the room and picked last night’s tie from the floor.  His eyes were dark and hooded as he moved toward you again. 

“Hands on the bedpost.”

Heat flooding between your legs, you did as you were told, wiggling across the mattress to grab the corner bedpost. He met you there, jerking your hands roughly so you were holding the post between your wrists. With quick hands, he tied you to the bedpost. Instinctively, you pulled at the bondage, found that it was nice and tight, but you could probably get loose if you really tried.

Not that you wanted to. 

Freddie was looming over you, leaning down until you were nearly nose to nose. “Safe word is blue. Say it.”

“Blue.”

“Again.”

“Blue.”

A satisfied smirk. “Good girl.” 

He pecked you on the mouth before moving onto the bed again, parting your legs and kneeling between them. You were completely exposed to him, no part of you hidden from eyes that shamelessly roamed your body like he owned it.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through these last few days?” he asked, his voice deep and husky with arousal as he leaned over you, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Teasing me.” A light kiss. “Driving me insane.” Another. “Then walking away.” A sharp bite that made you flinch.  His mouth came to yours again and took it in a long, hard kiss. “Now it’s your turn,” he continued. “To be teased until you’re begging me to fuck you.” You whimpered in response, flexing your hips beneath his weight.

But he was pulling away, trailing his mouth back to your jaw and down your throat with exquisite slowness. Arching your neck for him, you whimpered again when he ignored the obvious plea and moved his mouth down your breastbone to the valley of your breasts. He kissed one beaded nipple with just enough pressure that you gave a light gasp and arched into him. He moved to the other, taking this one fully into his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against it.  As pleasure began to build, he moved yet again and you let out a frustrated curse. You felt his lips quirk into a smile against your skin before he continued moving, kissing down your stomach until he was just above your pussy. Suddenly he was leaning back and pulling your hips up off the bed, raising your ankles over his shoulders so you were completely helpless. You felt a tight kiss a breath above your clit and you tried to close your legs around his head, but he easily pried them back open. After a few more teasing kisses just shy of where you needed them, his mouth pressed lightly to your clit. You gasped and arched your hips into the touch. You were being shameless and you knew it. And you didn’t care. Here, with him, you felt nothing but want.

He didn’t open his mouth and eat you like wanted-needed-him to. All he gave you were small, tight lipped kisses that drove your desperation higher and higher. When he finally did open his mouth slightly to lick your throbbing clit, you thought he might just push you over...but he pulled away. Writhing in his grip, you tried to chase the high, but it faded away.

Giving you one last nip to the thigh, Freddie moved your legs back down to the bed, slowly running his hands up to your thighs. “What do you need, baby?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. “Tell me.”

“Fred, I need-I need you.”

He grinned at that, clearly amused and satisfied by your words.

“Hmmm. This what you need?”

Leaning over you, he slid his cock through the folds of your pussy. You moaned long and loud as your eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. Pulling back, he gave another long, slow thrust, his cock only just grazing your clit. 

Bracing his arms on either side of your head, he took your mouth in a deep, wet kiss. You instinctively moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, but came up against the binds. It was brutal, having no anchor against the onslaught of sensation. Freddie was breathing deeply, his chest pressing deep into yours as he continued to slide his cock through your folds, keeping you at a torturous level of pleasure. Back and forth, back and forth, it was an exquisite pain.

As if he knew you were finally going to reach your climax, he backed off again, leaving you just at the edge.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured against your cheek. “Not yet. Not yet.” He leaned away again, running his hands down your body as he did.

You heaved in a breath as you dangled on the edge of your climax, then fell back again. 

“What’s it like, baby?” he asked, running his hands up your thighs and then back down again. “To just get there? And not have it?”

You only whimpered in reply, your entire body begging for him. He had you and he knew it. You would do anything for him now.

He slowly leaned back down, hovering over you until your mouths barely touched. “Apologize for teasing me.”

“I’m-I’m sorry for teasing you.”

You were rewarded by him guiding just the tip of his cock inside of you. You both groaned and shuddered at the burning pleasure, Freddie’s head dropping to your chest as he struggled for control. You writhed, trying to get him deeper, but he slapped a hand to your hip, stilling you instantly.

“God, Y/N, you drive me fucking crazy.”

“Freddie, baby, please-”

You both groaned as he pushed deeper inside of you, pushing slowly until he reached the hilt.  You shuddered and let yourself be taken over by the pleasure of having him inside of you. You clenched around him and he cursed. He suddenly reared up onto his knees and grabbed your hips, pulling you up off the bed. Pulling out of you, he slammed back in again. Soon, he took up a brutal pace, his hands digging hard into your hips, your body nearly completely off the bed.  All you could do was give yourself up to the sex, to what he was demanding from you.

The orgasm, when it came, was violent and overwhelming, robbing you of breath as it washed over every inch of you, stuttered your heart in your chest.

Freddie came with a curse his hips slamming into yours one last time before he collapsed on top of you, keeping his full weight braced on his arm. The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, struggling to catch your breath as your orgasms slowly faded. You felt Freddie’s hand cup your cheek and he turned it to face him.

“Okay?” he asked. You nodded in reply and pressed your mouth to his.

“If you think this is going to deter me from teasing you again, you are very wrong.”

He laughed, the sound so deep and husky you shivered with renewed arousal.

“I hope not.”

[consumeconstantly]

Those Who Are Kind

1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (you are here) | next

Summary: Siblings are the last thing on Marinette’s mind as she begins her frantic search for Tikki. Really, she can’t even consider them siblings, not yet. But they’re along for the ride, whether she wants them to be or not.

Duke doesn’t know what to make of the current situation.

He’s always known that the Waynes are crazy, insane, even, but he loves them all the same, in the begrudging, cautious way he cannot shake. (This approach has served him well over the years, allowing him to avoid multiple schemes that Tim or Jason typically start up to rile up Damian. From there, everything is guaranteed to snowball. The only time things get really bad is when Cass gets involved.) To him, it’s always been a bit uncanny how similar all the brothers looked, despite the fact that none of them shared blood. All of them had the same sharp jaw, piercing blue eyes, chiselled cheekbones and defined bodies. Only Tim and Damian differed slightly, with Tim having a dancer’s figure instead of that of a body builder or demolitions expert, and Damian having green eyes instead of blue. It’s also disconcerting that everybody the Waynes are more intimately involved with have some sort of alter ego. He often joked with other members of the Justice League that heroism ran in Bruce’s blood.

With the new addition of Marinette to their family, he has to say that he’s been proven right.

A girl who had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes in any capacity other than the fact that she and Bruce share blood becoming a hero. The leader of a team. Fighting supervillains at the age of thirteen.

He’s very, very glad that he was not adopted by or shared blood with Bruce. He doesn’t think he could have handled being a superhero at age thirteen. He can barely handle being Signal now some days, and he’s an adult. The amount of responsibility on Marinette’s shoulders is difficult to understand. To be the sole wielder of magic that can revert an entire city back to its original state. To bring people back from the dead. 

Dick is strangely quiet. A car is driving them from a pit stop near a zeta tube to Marinette’s hospital. 

Hands down, Dick is the most sane male of the Wayne family, not including Alfred. But there are times when Duke sees the weight that he carries. All the times that he refuses to talk about the burdens that he bears. Moving forward with a smile when he’s in pain. When he gets in a mood like this, he’s hard to read. But given the circumstances, it’s fairly clear exactly what’s bothering him. 

“He’s known about her this entire time,” Dick says, tinted windows allowing Duke a glance at his expression, carefully devoid of any telling emotions. “Nineteen years. He kept her a secret.”

“It’s Bruce.” The man is known for keeping secrets. 

“Yeah, but Marinette is family. She should have been, at least. And now…”

Now she’s all alone when she should be surrounded by people that love her, praising her for her victory, for how she shouldered so much responsibility at such a young age. But by bringing her to a hospital in America, she’s been cut off from her team, and any support system she should have had is gone. 

“You and her,” Duke says, looking for a way to comfort him. “You’ll get along. You’re similar, after all.” After they brought Gabriel and Lila to the a top security prison and sent Emilie to a hospital that couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her, they got two files from Tim. One detailing Ladybug and all of her exploits. The second, detailing Marinette’s life. 

Duke has watched the videos. Has watched how Ladybug leads by example, comes up with the plan and begins the execution. How she shoulders more battles than she should. 

He’s seen Marinette pull people together with a smile on her face, even while she’s running on empty after a strenuous akuma attack. 

Dick and Marinette are alike. 

“We’re too much alike,” Dick says. “I suspected for a long time that Bruce had another kid that he wasn’t telling us about, but I thought that if he was keeping her away from us, then maybe she’d have a shot at leading a good life. A normal life. Not the one she got. Sabine’s— Bruce’s biological daughter shouldn’t be somebody like me. She deserves better.”

Duke is acutely aware that Dick’s parents were also murdered, but whatever relation he had with Sabine is something he’s never been willing to talk about. There are pictures in his apartment of a petite Asian woman with a soft smile standing next to him, but whenever asked about her, Dick never gives a straight answer. 

“Nobody has the ability to change the past.” Duke claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He sags imperceptibly under the weight. 

Well— actually, it’s not out of the realm of possibilities, given the fact that magic, aliens, and metahumans all coexisted, supplemented by the fact that multiple members of Marinette’s team do have the ability to travel back in time, but that’s another matter entirely. There’s not a lot of information on the Miraculous, and all of their knowledge is coming from Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Zatara, and even the three of them don’t know everything. 

“But you have the chance to do good by her. Be a good older brother, like I know you are.”

A thin smile appears on Dick’s face. “She’s going to need more than just one good influence on her life. And Damian is better, but you saw how he looked at her when Bruce brought her through the Zeta tubes. Tim’s not going to react well either, and Jason is a wild card. She’s not going to get the support she needs if she stays with us.”

Duke crosses his arms, knees brushing up against the back of the car seat. “The only person whose actions you’re responsible for are your own. Don’t worry about them. If they don’t like her, they’ll just avoid her.”

That’s certainly not true— all of the members of the Wayne family are notorious for going hard after all of the things they don’t like. But... it’s comforting to hear. Sometimes temporary and known lies are much nicer than harsh realities.

#

She’s gone.

All of her belongings are missing, the IV needle is hanging from the stand, the window open, and Marinette is missing from her bed.

At least she left a note?

Be back soon — Marinette

“Great,” Duke mutters under his breath. “Another incredibly vague, cryptic Wayne.”

Dick’s face turns to ash. “Her legs. Her head. She can’t go out so soon. Hold on, maybe Barbara can pull up some footage.”

“On the bright side, there’s no blood,” Duke says. 

“That’s not a bright side.”

“It is,” Duke argues. “She fell in the worst places possible, right on top of that broken glass casket. If she’s not bleeding that clearly means she didn’t pull her stitches on her mad escape out.”

When Ladybug fell, they’re not exactly sure what happened, because the screen showed Ladybug collapsing almost gracefully. When they arrived on the scene, she flickered between Ladybug and Marinette as her earrings beeped. Her legs were slashed from falling on the glass with a seemingly unnatural force— simply falling would not have garnered cuts that large— and her head was twisted at an odd angle, debris bloodied beneath her.

Somehow, the Miraculous Cure seemed to be working backwards. Not from the epicenter out, but rather from the edge of the damage, in. It worked slowly, every mile taking minutes instead of mere seconds. It hadn’t happened before in any of the battles.

It was useful in apprehending Hawkmoth and Pavona, who were still knocked out. But Marinette, even after the Miraculous Cure washed over her, didn’t get healed. Her injuries didn’t revert. There was still a gash on her stomach from Hawkmoth’s cane, still muscles exposed on the back of her legs and blood on her neck. When she was first brought in, the doctors feared that she may be permanently incapacitated. 

Good at keeping to her word at least. She came swinging through the window with worry on her face and grief in her eyes. 

“I need to go back to Paris,” she says. 

Dick will undoubtedly say no. He’s a very protective person, and Marinette is the center of his current efforts. 

But she doesn’t look injured. He eyes her stance. She’s standing with no effort, walks with no limp. No hospital dress, no blood on her neck, no bruises in all of the places he was expecting them to be. Marinette does not look like she just faced a world ending threat less than twenty four hours ago. She certainly doesn’t look like she’s permanently lost the use of her legs. There’s the familiar Wayne Brand Stubbornness in her eyes— no way she’s not Bruce’s kid— that tells him that she’s going to get to Paris one way or another, and that they’re either lucky they were even notified in the first place or that she wants to use a resource that they have that she does not have access to. It’s fairly obvious what that resource is, considering that Paris is nine hours away by any normal plane and it sounds like she wants to get there in minutes, and not hours. Duke also knows that if they don’t take what she’s offering now, she’ll use an alternative method that definitely won’t be as nice or clear cut. 

He jumps in before Dick can say anything. “We’ll take you as long as we go with you every step of the way.”

Oh, he’s going to get in so much trouble for doing this. Dick is looking at him with his Disapproving Dad glare, and he can imagine Bruce going into brooding silence when he hears that Duke allowed this to happen. 

Marinette’s lips pinch together, but she nods. “Where’s the nearest zeta tube?”

#

Barbara gets Dick’s text and sighs in frustration.

She’s already got her hands full with watching Tim, who’s spiralling trying to find information about the Miraculous, muttering under his breath in the way he does when he gets a particularly hard case to crack. He’s gone through six cups of coffee in the last hour, and he kicked off his research with a combination of 5 Hour Energy, Monster, three packets of sugar, and 10 caffeine shots. Soon, she’ll have to start limiting his caffeine intake, but right now it’s clear that any attempt to get him to stop his research now will fail spectacularly. At least she’s not in charge of Damian and Jason. Wherever they are, they’re definitely on the move and not happy.

She never thought she'd be able to say she’s happy about being paralyzed from the waist down, but she certainly doesn’t want to be chasing after one of the two hellions. Cass definitely has her hands full and whoever’s watching Jason— wait, is anybody even watching Jason? Typically Roy gets stuck with Jason-sitting duty, but he’s been out for a while. 

Barbara groans. Jason is probably on his own, wreaking havoc.

Great.

She’ll deal with that later, even though she has no doubt she’ll regret that decision, but if Marinette is gone from her room, Dick needs the footage, and somebody needs to find where she is. The nurse put in her latest report that her legs were almost healed and that she didn’t show any signs of a concussion, but Marinette was in bad shape when she got admitted to the hospital. Even though Barbara doubts that there was any misdiagnosis, given that Bruce sprung for a VIP room in one of the pricier hospitals, in a world where magic and aliens are present, who knows what’s true or not.

“Tibet!” Tim jumps up from his hunched over position for the first time in hours. “I’m going to Tibet, the closest zeta tubes are three hours by car away, but I can get somebody to loan Wayne Industries a helicopter while I’m over there.”

“Sit down, Tim.” Barbara takes her glasses off and pinches the bridge of her nose. Why can’t Bruce rein in his children? Why is she the one stuck babysitting? “Marinette left her hospital room.”

That certainly gets Tim to put the brakes on his movements towards the zeta tube in the bat cave. 

“What?”

“I said, she left her hospital room. Just sit down while I send the information over. It’s not going to do you any good to rush into things anyways.”

A quick review of the surrounding CCTV shows that Marinette didn’t travel far, just around the hospital. She’s looking for something, calling out for it, too. Barbara grabs that file and slows it down so she can read her lips. “Dickie? Do she and Dick know each other already?”

A quick text back to Dick reveals that Marinette has already returned to the room and—

Oh, hell. 

“Well,” Barbara pushes her laptop away from her, letting Tim watch the files she’s pulled up. “It looks like we’re taking a family trip to Paris.”

#

Somehow, Marinette almost manages to lose all four of them within the first four minutes of roaming around Paris.

Luckily, their family has an almost absurd amount of luck between all of them (not all of it good) and the person Barbara was half sure she could only find in prison, beating up Hawkmoth and Pavona, runs into Marinette on the streets and herds her back to them.

“Lose something?” Jason asks, arm slung around Marinette’s shoulder, the smaller, younger girl looking rather upset at having her plans thrown off.

“I told them that they could follow me,” Marinette argues without much real bite. It’s not my fault if they can’t keep up, is the clear meaning of her statement.

Again, Barbara is very impressed that the barely nineteen year old somehow managed to shake off vigilantes with decades of experience with ease. But it is, at least, partially due to her disability. Every time she goes out in her wheelchair, her heart aches a little, especially as the civilians she passes eye her with pity. Barbara doesn’t want pity. Doesn’t need pity. She shouldn’t feel anything when people look at her like she can’t keep up, because she can keep up.

Most of the time, anyways.

It doesn’t matter how she uses her tech skills to modify her wheelchair and deck it out with all the equipment she could ever need, or that she can easily get up to speeds rivalling sports cars for short periods of time before the power runs out. When she’s stuck in her wheelchair, she loses the maneuverability she had when she wasn’t paralyzed.

She couldn’t follow Marinette through the alleyways because she was stuck. Barbara was the one who noticed her escape first. If only she were more capable, she could have—

But it’s okay now. Jason ran into her. Marinette is back with them. 

“I need to search for something, and none of you can help.” She’s not intentionally being rude when she says it, and if anything, sounds apologetic. Barbara sees the similarities between Marinette and Bruce. It makes a lot of sense that the two of them are father and daughter, when the two of them are so insistent on keeping major issues to themselves. Marinette twists herself out from underneath Jason’s arm, clutching her purse. Her head doesn’t move, but her eyes are wild. 

“We can help,” soothes Duke, ever the voice of reason. “You know who we are.”

“And I’m guessing you’ve all either deduced who I am or have been told my identity,” counters Marinette. “Which means you should know why I can’t have you helping me.”

Barbara and Duke exchange pointed glances. 

“That’s not really clear to us, actually,” says Barbara. Marinette isn’t moving, but the way her shoulders tense makes her believe that the younger girl is ready to run at the drop of a hat. 

A small group of people from the parade on the streets tumbles into the alleyway they’re resting in. They smell like cheap booze and sweat. 

“What are all of you doing in this alley?” one says, after he finished vomiting up his last (very colorful) meal. “You should be out there partying with the rest of us! Celebrating Ladybug and her team.”

“Fuck Hawkmoth and Pavona,” says another solemnly, with neon face paint and pigtails with glitter string intertwined. “Their defeat should be celebrated by even the darkest souls.”

Jason, easily amused by their antics, looks very willing to join them. “Yeah Marinette, we should be celebrating Ladybug not—”

As one, everybody looks at the place where Marinette was, just moments ago. The alley is decidedly empty of a small asian girl with blue eyes and pigtails.

“Fuck,” Jason curses.

“Fuck is right,” Duke agrees, placing a hand over his temple. 

#

Marinette manages to disappear for three hours.

Three full hours.

“She’s good,” Tim says, typing into the holographic computer embedded into his sleeve. 

Paris’ CCTVs are painfully easy to hack into, though he suspects that the lack of attention to them may have to do with the fact that everybody in the city is celebrating. Policemen, politicians, artists, students, scientists—  people from all walks of life are in the streets today, screaming and shouting and being free for the first time in years.

He spies more than just a few dozen people bawling their eyes out within a few minutes. But that’s not surprising, considering how long Parisians have had to suppress their emotions for. 

Dick and Barbara are still in the midst of profiling Marinette, trying to determine the most likely places where she’d stop by, either as Ladybug or herself. All of Ladybug’s usual haunts are decidedly devoid of the young heroine, though Tim does manage to catch a good amount of footage of the other young heroes like Carapace and Rena Rouge, who are most definitely in a relationship based on their makeout session on top of the eiffel tower (one of the first places Tim checked), Viperion, who seems to be the only one from Ladybug’s team to be seeking out the crowd which seems rather atypical considering that the hero never frequented interviews or was spotted on news coverage all that frequently,  and Chat Noir and Queen Bee who Jason insisted were in a relationship as well, though the rest of them believed they were only embracing each other out of comfort— Chat Noir looks like he’s been crying for hours, and Queen Bee looks like she’s barely holding it together.

Ryuko has not shown up on camera once today. Neither has Ladybug.

The second place Tim checks is the bakery. She is not there either, though another girl is. It doesn’t seem like the girl has any ill intent, but Duke is more than happy to pull up past files to see if she’s been there before, if she has any reason to be there, and who exactly she is. 

Just as Barbara and Dick are debating the chances that Marinette would be at Le Grande Paris, she walks past one of the cameras focused on Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. Tim has the system rigged up so that any facial matches for Marinette automatically alerts the room. He hadn’t been able to replicate that with Ladybug’s face for some bizarre reason which is why he, Barbara, Dick, and Jason are manually combing through the areas where Dick and Barbar think she may be (magic is why, but Tim has always believed that technology can be used against and with most forms of magic) so it’s lucky that she enters as Marinette. 

“Kagami Tsurugi,” Duke says triumphantly. “She visited often when Tom and Sabine were still alive. Potential candidate to represent France or Japan for Sabre in the next Olympics. Definitely friends with Marinette.”

“Thank God,” sighs Dick. “Now let’s get over there.”

It’s truly, truly unfortunate that they set up shop quite a distance away from the bakery.

They take too long to arrive.

#

Perhaps it was a mistake, telling Kagami first.

No, not just perhaps. It was a mistake. A bad one.

But Kagami was pushing so hard, and Marinette was so tired and so alone without Tikki at her side, without the knowledge that her parents would be waiting for her. Kagami pushed and pushed and pushed about why the house felt so empty, why there was dust on the floor, why the bakery was closed for so long, and where were Tom and Sabine? Why weren’t they there for the team yesterday, when the battle was won, when they knew how important it was to be there for Adrien who had just lost all three of his parental figures? 

The moment the words fall from Marinette's lips, she knows she shouldn’t have revealed it at that moment, because Kagami draws in on herself, lips turning downwards, hands curling into fists. 

Kagami has come a long way from the girl she was in lycèe. The thrill of victory is still something she enjoys, but not something she needs to feel secure in her place in the world. She has trouble expressing her emotions, but when it comes down to it, she communicates everything necessary to understand why. 

With the news of Tom and Sabine’s death, she withdraws into herself, shifts back into that thirteen year old Marinette first met. Logic  and rationale thrown to the wind in favor of cold anger. 

It’s no secret that Ryuko, Ladybug, and Viperion are the main strategists of their team. Viperion, out of his duty of using Second Chance and his ability to keep a level head in the face of constant death. Ladybug out of necessity as her position as team leader and the power of Lucky Charm. Theoretically, the two of them should have been enough. But over the years, Kagami became Marinette's favored confidante; though Ladybug trusts all of her team to keep a tight hold on any information she gives them, Kagami is one of the few who is able to pick apart a given situation and transform the monsters they face into manageable pieces. 

Today, it is Kagami who has broken to pieces. Very angry, razor sharp shards that seek to hurt.

“You lie to the media, tell them a pretty tale of how they died due to a break in. Why do you avoid pinning their deaths on Lila as you should? To absolve a quality woman from guilt?”

Marinette can’t look Kagami in the eyes.

Her parents deserved a peaceful death. To pass on in old age, hand in hand. Not looking on as a family member died, in fear of what would happen next for their daughter. 

“The police know. The judges know,” Marinette protests weakly, but without much eight behind her words.

Kagami just scoffs. “Tom and Sabine were kind people. To not tell the media what truly happened— that’s preventing Lila from getting the full force of what’s coming to her. What happens if she gets out of prison one day? Without any real deaths to her name, she could just flee to another country to escape it all. And when another person loses their life because of her…” 

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. If somebody else gets injured in any way, shape or form at the hands of Lila Rossi, it’s Marinette’s fault. Marinette gets what Kagami is trying to say. She thinks the same thing, after all.

“My parents would not want their death publicized in that manner.” It’s the truth, but it’s said so weakly that the words come off as little more than a weak defense, and Kagami takes the words and twists their truth.

“You know little of your parents, considering that you’re their daughter.” Kagami stands stock still, not a single extra muscle moving. “Perhaps if you spent more time with them as Marinette instead of unsuccessfully gallivanting around as Ladybug, you’d have realized that Tom and Sabine admire truth above all else, even if it is painful.”

Kagami does not ask a single question about where Marinette was last night, or how Marinette felt over the loss of her parents or when she saw all those she held dear lying still on the ground after Hawkmoth and Pavona’s final attacks. She just purses her lips and sweeps out the door.

And then she’s gone, and Marinette is alone once more. 

#

The bakery is bone-achingly quiet.

Every step Marinette takes creates such a disturbance in the peace that moving hurts. 

But she can’t stay here. She can’t stay here. She does not deserve to stay here. Kagami is right. Marinette was a bad daughter. She could have prevented their death, could have given them justice sooner, could have— 

And Marinette can’t breathe. She tries to, she tries so hard to, but she chokes.

She kneels down on the floor— Kagami is right again, the place is dusty, because Marinette couldn’t bring herself to use the living room and kitchen without her parents, could barely bring herself to sleep in her bedroom because she knew that her parents were not sleeping soundly in the bed below hers— and scrabbles at her throat, vision coming in and out.

Her legs burn. She knows that during the final battle, her legs were cut towards the end of it, and they should be healed, she should be okay now, she’s better than this, she’s— 

Somebody gathers her in their arms. They smell slightly of Lotus flowers, just like Maman, and cradle her ever so gently.

Marinette’s eyes open— black hair, greyish eyes filled with understanding and love and— 

She can breathe again.

She falls asleep.

#

“Cass?” Dick’s eyes widen at her unexpected appearance at Marinette’s home.

“I thought you were on Damian guard duty,” Barbara says, fixating on the red around Marinette’s eyes and the barely dried tear tracks on her face.

“Where’s that Kagami girl?” Jason scuffs his shoes on the hardware floor, silently marking the footprints on the floor and getting a general idea of what occurred before they were able to get here based on Marinette’s current state and the other girl’s absence. “I want to have some words with her.”

Cass inclines her head sharply, eye sparking with anger. Jason’s fists rise unconsciously— Cass rarely gets angry, and whenever she gets angry at a specific person, that means they’ve done something very, very wrong— ready to hunt down Kagami. Marinette sniffles and shifts in Cass’ one armed embrace, to which Cass places a finger over her lip and shakes her head, a universal sign to be quiet.

 Jason scowls but settles down.

They’re quiet as they wait for Marinette to wake.

@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys  @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip @theunquiet-dead @sleep-deprived-aroace @enternalempires @lilkymilky @woe-is-me0 @officiallydarkgeek @miyla-lokidottir @queencommonsense @demonicbusiness @iamablinkmarvelarmy 

@emark7 (i will have the edited version of these on ao3 eventually but i think the link to ch 1 on this one works)

where i ended this doesn’t feel very good but ehhhhhhhhhh my writing process is summary then word vomit that barely correlates which means nothing makes sense unless i edit but looking back at my work makes me cringe so at a crossroads yayyy

also can you guys tell which prompts ive written these for because i’m curious