#but then you’re gone again and he’s bruised and thinking ab how you said his name all over again

[rush-the-stars]

C I E L O . 🧍🏾‍♀️

amira

this is about bounty hunter wolfwood isn’t it 😁😁

[sunatooru]

can I request haikyuu boys (any of your choice but pls include kuroo) finding our reader lied to them to hang at a party? NSFW?

Thank you requesting! I chose 3 captains and might’ve gone overboard but I’d love feedback xx

~

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors do not interact, gn!reader, college!Kuroo, timeskip!daichi & Oikawa, timeskip spoilers, oral (male receiving), face fucking, spanking, handcuffs, male masturbation, cum eating, pet names (kitten and Angel) let me know if there’s more

~

Kuroo

* He honestly wouldn’t have found out that you sneaked away to party if Bokuto wasn’t there too

* You walk out seeing your boyfriend waiting for you outside after greeting his best friend

* He doesn’t say anything as he takes you back to your home

* “Didn’t anyone tell you lying is bad?” He slams you against his door

* “What? You didn’t think I’d leave you unpunished, did you?” He grits, smashing his lips against yours harshly

* He rubs himself against you, one hand securing your neck and the other digging into your waist

* “You don’t seem to know how to use your mouth.” He states, kissing down your neck and sucking on your skin

* He pushes his growing bulge harder between your thighs, tutting when you moan and raise your hips

* He pulls away and pushes you onto your knees

* “Don’t get too excited. That mouth needs training and today’s your first lesson.” He palms himself over his joggers, slipping his hand inside and pulling out his stiff shaft

* “Open wide now.” He slips his thumb into your mouth and watch as you obey him

* He slaps his swollen tip over your mouth, dragging it over your lips before sliding himself half way

* He pulls back and slams back in, making you scream around him

* “What’s that?” He mocks, pulling out and repeating his movement

* He keeps one hand on your head and the other on this door, fucking your face fast, pushing his whole cock to the back of your throat and moaning when you clamp around him

* “Fuck…your mouth feel so hot. A little tighter and I might just come. You want my cum down your throat, kitten?” He groans looking at your wet eyes and shuddering when you moan around him

* He quickens his pace, your nails digging into his thighs as he chases his high

* You can feel he’s close from the pressure on your head, your mouth eager to catch his load and swallow it all

* But he pulls out, leaving your mouth abused and empty and grabs some tissues

* “Too bad. Liars don’t get what they want.” He throws his head back as he spills his cum onto the tissue, hand gripping his length and squeezing any remnants before throwing it into the bin and smirking at you

* “Next time don’t lie to me, kitten.”

Daichi

* You said you were tired

* So why were you leaving a party he’s had noise complaints about

* He has his arms crossed with a stern look on his face, watching you stumble towards him

* “Wait in the car.” Is all he says to you before he deals with the home owner

* Next thing you know, you’re face down on his lap, clothes striped, with only your underwear on

* He stays in full uniform, the rough material scratching your skin as you’re sprawled over his thick thighs

* Your body jolts when his rough hands make contact with your ass, the handcuff rattling as you try to move your hands

* He scoffs, keeping your hands behind your back and spanks you once again

* “Number.” He barks, rubbing his hands down your back before groping your ass

* “9-“ you cry out, mewling when he cups your sex and slaps you again

* “Hhf 10..please I’m sorry. I won’t lie again…” you whine, sniffling when he caressing the skin he just broke

* “I’m not sure sweetheart. I might forgive you and you’ll sneak off to another party tomorrow.” He cracks his neck

* “No no no I won’t I promise I-“ you yell when his palm makes contact again

* “ 11..” you choke out, you can feel him grow beneath you, his breaths heavier as the room rings with the sounds of your ass getting bruised

* “Don’t” spank “ever” spank “lie” spank “to me” spank “again” spank

* He admires his work on your ass, lifting your hips up and running his finger between your cheeks

* “…especially going to a party alone.” He kisses your shoulder, soothing your stinging skin before he rips your underwear off

* “We’re not done yet.”

Oikawa

* You sneaked off to a party and didn’t tell him? Take him with you? Let people think you were single?

* He found it funny actually, laughing at your stupid lie and seeing your body freeze like a deer caught in the headlights as people make way for him to past

* “A party and you didn’t think to tell me? Not fair y/n!” He clicks his tongue, lips curled into a taunting smile

* It wasn’t long until you found yourself bounded on a chair with some ropes in his room

* You watch him stroke his cock over his underwear, his tanned abs flexing

* “Such a brat… sneaking off to party.” He runs his fingers through his hair

* “Had to watch you enjoying yourself after lying to me…it’s only fair you experience it too.” He pulls out his cock, his tip a shade darker

* He spits into his palm and starts pumping his cock, legs spread with his hand on his torso

* “Fuck…this could’ve been you…your cunt could’ve been clamping on my dick but you’ve been a brat.” He squeezes his tip harder, groaning and grunting as he rolls it around his palm

* “Like what you see, Angel?”

* You nod rapidly, eyes fixed on the way he grips himself, his shaft standing tall as he pleasures himself

* “Yeah…bet you want a taste, want me to cum inside you, don’t you?” He teases, moaning as he moves his hands faster

* “Please ‘ru… I want you please…” you whine, restless against the bindings as you watch him lift his hips up and thrust forward

* You watch as he fucks his fist fast, sweet moans leaving his mouth , including you name

* “Tooru please! Let me help you…I won’t sneak off and not tell you again… please I want to feel you too..” you beg, biting your lips hard when he chuckles

* “Yeah? Make me feel good, huh. But I’m feeling good already and you should know what happens when you lie to me.” He pants, eyes squeezing shut as he thrust into his hand

* “Fuck I’m gonna cum..” he lets out a guttural groan, spilling himself all over his hands and chest, fingers in his hair as he rides out his climax

* “Tooru…” you whimper, mouth watering at his cum

* He licks his lips and come towards you, picking up his load over his chest and bringing towards your mouth, only to take it back and put it into his

* “Hope you learned your lesson, Angel.” He grins, pushing his tongue into your mouth and feeling you desperately get a taste of him

@hqintheclub

[junisfics]

Heavy Petting ft. Armin Arlert (Day V)

Focus: Heavy Petting

Warnings: Sexual Contact / Nsfw 18+

Word Count: 2k

They’ve been gone for three days, they should’ve been back within a few hours. Where the hell are they?

Armin left with the others days ago to go on a supply run. Days. This trip should have taken them only a few hours to get done. They’re on horseback, they should’ve been back ages ago.

“Stop sulking around waiting for them to get back, they most likely came across a live town and are trying to trade or something...” Eren explains.

He can’t blame me, how am I supposed to sit around doing nothing while Armin- they’re out there practically begging to be eaten alive. 

I pace Mikasa and I’s shared room in the cottage, Eren sitting on her bed as I walk from door to window and back again.

“You need to drink or something, you’re livid.” He says.

“You need to stop acting like youre completely unbothered. I know it pisses you off just sitting here, you hate being excluded from helping.” I spit back.

“You’re just acting like a bitch because you don’t have an eye on Armin for once,” He stands up, “You’re obsessive.”

“I-I am not! I- at least I care! You let Mikasa be a suicidal hero for you and you sit around doing nothing in return!” I shout at him

“She’s just chopping wood, you need to relax.” He groans

“She was just thrown around, she needs to rest!”

“They’re back.” He mutters.

“Shut up you bastard- wait what?” 

He stares blankly at the window before turning and making his way down the hall and downstairs. I’m on his heels, practically shoving him down the stairs before pushing past him. I hastily push open the door too see them getting off their horses and stabling them.

“Armin... Armin!” I cry out. I see his blond hair whip around as he turns to face me. He’s tying his horse back up into her stable.

“y/n! Sorry, we ended up getting turned around, it took a little longer than ex- oh.”

His sentence is cutoff as I run up to him and practically throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, his own make their way around my torso and I hold myself flush against him.

“We were only gone a few days, are you alright?” He asks, speaking into my hair.

I let go of him and take a few steps back to look at him. His hair is coated in sweat and dirt that sticks to his forehead. It’s obvious they came in contact with a few titans, the give away being the cuts and bruises that litter his hands and face along with few rips in his clothes.

“Yeah, sorry. Are you?” My hands prod at him, inspecting any possible injuries I missed before. I take his hands in mine, examining the surface cuts. Then, I take his face in my hands and shifting it slightly to look over it. My eyes get caught at a thin gash below his left eye.

It was supposed to be just a little supply run, to get food and medical supplies, that’s it.

“Ah-” He grimaces, jerking back at my touch. I let go of him.

“Go wash up then meet me in the kitchen. I need to clean it.” I gesture my head to the house

He disappears off to the backyard where the water spout is and I make my way back inside, a little to quickly for that.

He’s alive. He’s alive. Relax, y/n.

I through the kitchen cabinets for my medical box. I’m pulling things and shoving things around when I realize I had leant it to Jean.

“Jean!” I shout

“Jesus, y/n, I’m right here, what do you want?” He sets down what I assume to be a sack of potatoes onto the counter.

“Where’s my med bag?” I ask.

“I put it in your room, under your bed. I didn’t know where else it’d go.”

It’s right where he says it was. I take it apart and pull out alcohol, gauze, needles and sutures. I lay it out accordingly onto the bedside table. Staring at it, shifting each tool an embarrassing amount of times.

Relax, he’s fine. He’s here.

“y/n?” Armin says, rounding the door frame. 

His once dirt soaked hair is now clean and wet, messily hanging into his face. His shirt clings to his still damp skin. In the absence of the dirt I can now see bruises littered across his jaw and cheekbones. His forearms are all scratched up as well.

I pat beside me on the bed gently. He closes the door quietly and takes a seat beside me. I pour a bit of alcohol onto a gauze pad and hold him by his chin to keep him still. He winces when contact is met.

“Sorry, sorry” I mumble, wiping and patting at the gash below his eye.

When It’s as clean as I think it can get I reach for the sutures and tweezers, pushing it through the damaged skin as gently as I possibly can, “I’m sorry, I know”

I can feel his eyes boring into mine and I grow obviously uncomfortable as I try and complete my work.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks suddenly. His voice quiet, nervous.

I look down to his lips, a slit in the bottom one, then into his eyes. Slowly and sheepishly, I nod, letting my tools drop to the floor.

His lips meet mine, cold but soft. He takes my face in his hands and my own drop from his and reach around his neck to toy with his still damp hair. 

My heart lurches out of my chest, his fingers gently tracing the skin of my cheekbones. His touch is overwhelming and I feel my own skin growing hot. I grab at the front of his shirt, twisting it into my fist to pull him closer. 

I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about kissing Armin, actually, you’d have to be stupid to think I haven’t. 

“I- closer, come closer... please.” Armin mumbles quietly, his hands pulling at my waist.

I hesitate, but only momentarily, then make my way closer, shifting inch by inch before something inside him snaps and he pulls me atop him. Our lips detach and my forehead rests against his, my legs straddling his waist but he remains upright, his back up against the wall.

“Armin..” I’m out of breath, my chest noticeably raising up and down with every pant.

“Fuck, just kiss me.” He pleads and I do. I tilt my head down so my mouth meets his again, this time with more passion.

His hands skim up and down my sides and back, touching almost any place he can without overstepping his boundaries. He needs more, I can feel it. It’s almost too much to handle, my body and senses completely flooded by him. He’s everywhere all at once.

I shift slightly to be flush against him my hands still around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip drops to my hips and squeezes them harshly before taking in a sharp inhale. Before I can kiss him again he tilts his head slightly so our noses bump together.

“You- God- you can’t do that... please.” This time he’s the one out of breath, overwhelmed and his skin hot.

My eyes closed and lips still searching for his as he pleads.

“You don’t- God, y/n, stop fucking moving.” He hisses, sitting up even more so to where his nose is in line with my jaw.

Hearing him swear is a rare occasion, let alone multiple times. It’s captivating, the sexuality of his frustration is so incredibly attractive.

His breath is hot on my neck, I can feel his lips tracing gently before kissing the tender flesh. My eyes flutter shut and my mouth drops open, a shiver goes down my spine and to my center.

Oh. 

Tiny whimpers leave my lips and I feel his tongue lick up my jugular.

“Armin,” I breathe.

“I don’t want anything from you, just this... please.” His voice has dropped a few octaves.

It’s so much, but so not enough. I feel stupid, completely dumbed by him. My head is clouded and all I can even think about is him, his lips and his touch. His fingers are gentle as they slip under the hem of my shirt to tickle the skin there. Another pathetic sound escapes my mouth.

His hips shift and a wave of pleasure ripples through me. 

“Armin, I-I can feel you.” I giggle quietly and he pinches the supple skin of my hips.

“Shit, I’m sorry- God” He groans into the skin below my jaw and ear, “It’s just- you’re just perfect.”

He sucks gently on my skin, marking the surface with little nips and bites every so often. The warm and wet gliding of his tongue along my skin has me shaking in his lap and every move I make I can feel him beneath me.

My hands rake down his chest and stomach then up under his shirt. The muscles of his stomach tense beneath my fingers. I never expected Armin to be so muscular, yes he’s rather lean but my fingers can feel the obvious divots between his abs. 

As my hands feel over his hot skin, his chest begins to rise and fall at a more rapid pace. His once innocent hands begin to sheepishly travel towards my backside. I try to encourage him by arching my back ever so slightly... and I wouldn’t say that hurt our situation but it definitely didn’t... help.

A groan rumbles deep in his chest as I do so and his grip on my lower back releases so he can grab my face and pull me away from him. My hands rest on the bare skin of his chest as he looks into my eyes and holds my jaw between his hands.

“You drive me insane.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to me.

His thumb follows the dips and mounds of my lips before finding resting tenderly against the center of my bottom lip. He uses his thumb to pull it down before letting it flick back up.

I try to lean forward to catch his lips in mine but he holds me still. A tiny smile upturns the corners of his lips as I try again with no prevail, only bumping the tips of our noses together once more. My mouth hangs open faintly, begging him to kiss me again.

I dig my nails into his bare chest, scratching gently.

“Ah-shit” He hisses, his eyes fluttering closed and head resting back against the wall.

“Kiss me, please.” I whisper, “Please.”

He blushes, pulling his head off the wall and looking into my eyes. I will never be able to get over how absolutely beautiful he is. The cool depths of his blue eyes are captivating; the gentle rises and falls of the bone structure in his face, the flexing of his muscles with every movement is so incredibly alluring.

He taunts me, leaning in then leaning out once I do the same. His pretty teeth showing with every smile.

I open my mouth and poke out my tongue, taking it and reaching to lick at his open lips. He twitches beneath me and I snicker quietly.

“Hey y/n! Have you seen Armin, Eren wants- oh!” Sasha pushes open the door and I scramble off of him, stumbling to the floor and taking a seat there. 

“Eren! I found him!” She calls to downstairs, then returns to us, “I knew it!”

christmas special taglist ;

@0inkawa @avaraykeil @flxwie @tartsandanime @aliviaothk402 @stardustsayornos @narcolepticstorm @capkatie @drxcomvlfx @malfoymikaelson @sambucky8 @softkidinlove

( if your user isn't grey pls check your privacy settings )

[dameronology]

never doubt me {cassian andor}

summary: after falling into the hands of the empire, a situation of life and death forces you and cassian to finally talk about your feelings {for @megmeg-chan and i am sO sorry it’s taken me so long to do this}

summary: language, mentions of injury, talks ab death/loss in a canon kinda way 

enjoy!! i haven’t written for cassian in so long and i forgot how much i loved him, so expect more of him in the future😌

- jazz

Cassian Andor was a filthy liar. 

No, deep breath. He wasn't that bad. 

The situation was just really fucking irritating and, in all likelihood, making your anger towards him a little more irrational. It wasn't really even his fault either. He'd told you incessantly that the mission was going to go well, and that you both going to be fine. Like, totally fiiiine, and that you would both get into the base without trouble and reunite in the middle, near the Imperial comms system. It was just that neither of you had planned for or expected stormtroopers to be present -- he'd gotten away in one piece, but you hadn't been so lucky. 

That brings us to now: a cell, with two stormtroopers parked outside and quite literally no sign of Cassian anywhere. You knew he'd be looking for you; in fact, you didn't doubt it once. There was a sort of unspoken pact between you that you would always rescue one another; always have each other's backs and never leave the other behind. It was born from the fact that friendships were hard to forge in your line of work, and what you and Cassian had was rare. Not even just in the Rebellion, but rather life in general. On the surface, you teased and ripped into one another to no end. The chemistry was almost suffocating for the people around you, because they could never get a word in edge ways. Then, if you dug a little deeper, there was something more. Something sweeter, something more supportive. You knew him better than he knew himself and in return, he could read you like his favourite novel (though, admittedly, it did sometimes feel like you were missing a few pages. Human complexity and all that).

‘Do you feel like speaking now?’ The modulated voice of one of the stormtroopers came from the other side of your cell door.

‘I’ll die before telling you jackshit.’ You muttered. Hopefully that was more of a statement and less of a prophecy.

The trooper snorted. ‘Okay, sweetheart-’

‘- call me that again and I will shove that blaster sideways up your ass.’ You spat.

‘The only thing you’re doing is rotting here.’ 

With that, he turned his back to you again. 

You slumped further down the wall, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete etching through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was cold in here. Really, really fucking cold, and Cassian had said you wouldn’t need a jacket. Then again, he’d said a lot of things. And again, none of it was his fault, but you cursed yourself for so blindly listening to him. It was nice that you took everything the other said as gospel, even if it came back to bite you in the ass every so often. 

‘A word of advice-’

‘- I don’t want any advice.’ You turned away from the trooper, pulling you knees to your chest. 

‘The sooner you talk, the less painful it’ll be.’ He ignored your refusal. 

You didn’t need to ask what he meant by it. You’d been part of the Rebellion long enough to have heard stories -- stories of torture, stories of war and the the kind of horrors that people often took to the grave.  You had a fair few of your own, and so did Cassian. That was probably why he’d become so important to you. He was one of the only people in the galaxy who truly understood the downfalls of being a Rebel spy. Your cause was more important to you than anything (well, almost anything) and you wouldn’t have changed it for the world, but there were times like this where you wondered if it was all worth it. Would there ever come a day where the Empire truly fell, once and for all? And would you even be around to see it? Would Cassian? 

Speaking of the devil, where the fuck was he? He never usually took this long. A few hours at most, but you’d long surpassed that. You could only very barely see the sky through the tiny window, but the sky had faded from powder blue to a dark navy, signalling it had been well over half a day. That was bad for multiple reasons -- the first being that the longer you were here, the more likely Cassian was to assume the worst and stop searching. Secondly, and perhaps most hauntingly, was that each passing second brought you closer to the Imps dragging you out the cell and taking you for questioning. And questioning, in their books, didn’t involve much talking. Go figure.

The injuries you sustained in your capture were bad enough; a bust lip, bruised eye and twisted ankle never made for much comfort. Even less so when you couldn’t get medical attention. The fact you knew it would be the least of your problems in a few hours made it all that much worst. 

You’d never doubted Cassian Andor before. Not once. Couldn’t even fathom it, truth be told. He always came through for you; always saved your ass, whether it be from yourself or from Imps. He was your person. That’s the only way you could have put it.

But, above all, he was a human being. Not a super hero, or a miracle worker. He could only do so much and you knew he would. He would follow every lead and every clue to try and get to you, but that’s all he could do. If he couldn’t find you, that wasn’t him on him. You doubted that he would think the same, and when you heard the lock to your cell open, you could only hope and pray that he knew that. That you weren’t going to blame him for what was about to happen, or hold it against him. 

‘It’s time.’ The stormtrooper announced. ‘Hope you can handle a bit of pain.’

You took a deep breath. ‘I can handle anything.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ He guffawed. ‘Hands out.’

‘C’mon, man.’ You murmured. ‘My legs gone, my lips bust and my head feels someone’s dropped an iron anvil on it. You don’t need to cuff  - ouch!’

You let out a squeak as he grabbed your wrists, tugging them forward and shoving a pair of metal cuffs on them. Was this really it? The end? Was your name gonna be the next one on the list of people lost in the Rebellion? That was if anybody even noticed. 

Cassian would. Of course, Cassian would. It hurt your heart to think that you wouldn’t see him again, or get to say a proper goodbye. The last time you’d seen him, you’d been dragged away from him kicking and screaming. He’d been so close, and if he’d been just a little nearer when they’d got you, he might have been able to save you, to stop you from falling into the hands of the Empire. You always figured that if you were gonna die in the field, he’d be by your side. The dumbassery you so often found yourselves in usually happened together. 

The walls of the Imperial base were dark - as if you’d expected anything else. It was hardly like the place was going to look like a bright, airy Ikea showroom. The only light came from the thousands of tiny red and blue buttons flickering on the wall, illuminating the hallways in what would have been a pretty glow if the circumstances weren’t so fucking miserable. Talk about a high way to hell.

You took another left, the trooper’s grip on you tightening as you neared some double towards the end. Yep, here it was. This is where you met your maker.  And from what you’d heard, the six-foot-something guy in a black mask did not take prisoners. Not that he was the one you were thinking of. No, that was Cassian. Completely and entirely Cassian; just his face and his presence and his everything at the back of your mind, the last thing you could think of before you were about to die for your cause-

-you let out an oof! as the stormtrooper suddenly pulled you to the ground, practically using you as a human shield against the blaster fire and smoke grenade that had just come from behind you. You tried to use your elbows to push him off, but with the cuffs and your already existing injuries, he easily overpowered you. Also, you were too busy coughing from the smoke to even think about making a getaway.

Tumbling forward, you fell onto your hands and knees. The trooper’s gun clattered to the ground, and you used your good leg to kick it further out the way, eyes not moving from the cloud of smoke that come out of the grenade. The red and blue lights were beating down on it, casting a purple glow over the shadow of whoever had thrown it, acting as a guide as they finally emerged. With a blaster in one hand and the other curled into a fist, your best friend had never quite looked so handsome, especially under the violet illuminations.

‘Cassian!’ Despite everything, you couldn’t help but grin. 

‘Duck.’ He demanded. 

You did as he said, flopping back to the floor. Squeezing your eyes shut and covering your head, you stayed there for a moment. There was another blast, and then the trooper’s body fell beside yours with a dull thud! 

Then, in what must have been two of most contrasting feelings ever, a warm pair of hands found yours. Cassian’s, undoubtedly. You would have known them anywhere. He pulled you up from the cold ground, warm palms finding your face as they ghosted over your cheeks.

‘It’s okay.’ His voice was soft. ‘You can open your eyes.’

You took a deep breath. ‘I know. Thank you.’

‘How badly are you hurt?’ He asked. ‘Because we need to move fast.’

‘My foot’s pretty wrangled.’ You said. 

Without another word, Cassian threw an arm over your shoulders, tucking it under your arms to support you. 

‘Lean against me.’ He instructed. ‘The exit isn’t too far-’

‘- what about the other troopers?’ You asked.

‘I dealt with them on my way in.’

And dealt with them, he certainly had. The men were practically laying in unconscious piles (he only ever intended to maim, but never kill), working as some kind of fucked up map out of a twisted and horrible maze.  The pain in your leg only grew worst as you moved, your good leg beginning to ache from carrying all the weight. With all your attention focused ahead of you for potential enemies, you didn’t even notice how close you were to stumbling over -- not until you fell back onto the cold lino floors. 

‘Hey.’ Cassian dropped beside you. ‘Look at me, okay, just...look at me.’

You glanced up, tired eyes meeting his warm, brown ones. ‘It really hurts, Cass.’

‘We’re really close now.’ He said. ‘Two more minutes. Can you do that? For me?’

‘Yeah.’ You took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I can.’

(Because really, for him, you’d do anything.) 

Cassian helped you back up, pressing one of his blasters into your hand. His arm returned to hold you by the waist, gripping you a little tighter this time. Your leg was practically screaming in pain, a dull ache shooting from your ankle up to your knee. You had to remind yourself that in a few minutes, it would all be over - and not in the way you thought it was going to be over an hour ago. Over, as in this whole ordeal would simply be something to report back to your bosses at base, and not your final moments. The fact you ever let yourself accept that fate and think that Cassian wouldn’t come for you was something else entirely in itself. 

You almost cried with relief when you saw his battered old ship docked outside the base. You normally cried for other reasons when you saw it - usually ones to do with the rusty old engines and creaking sound it insisted on making whenever it flew - but right then, you had never been happier to see it. Even if the insides smelt weirdly of petrol and oil, and the seats in the cockpit were made of uncomfortable cracked leather, you practically threw yourself on board. 

Neither you nor Cassian said anything for a while. His attention was completely on getting away from the base and avoiding TIE fighters - something he did without ever moving his hand from your thigh - and yours was on steadying your breathing and heartbeat. It had been a rough twelve hours to say the least. 

Once the ship had lurched into hyperspace, he turned in his chair to face you. He held your gaze for a moment, before opening his arms out and letting you flop from your own seat and into his chest. They tightly wrapped around you, one hand softly your head to his body and the other gently rubbing up and down your back. You had to squeeze your eyes shut to stop your tears from spilling. 

‘I’m sorry.’ He murmured.

‘For what?’ You peered up at him with a frown. 

‘Not finding you sooner.’ He replied. ‘Or for even letting you get caught in the first place-’

‘- Cassian, stop.’ You pulled back and tangled his hands in yours. ‘Once I get some bactaspray, I’ll be totally fine.’

‘But you almost weren’t.’ He shot back. ‘If I was just a few minutes later and you could have been a thousand times worst, or even...gone completely.’

‘That’s beside the point.’ You softly sighed. ‘It’s doesn’t matter would have beens or could have beens. I am here and I will be okay.’

‘You’re right.’ He nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I just...I want to protect you, you know? And I failed.’

‘You don’t need to protect me, Cass.’ You shook your head with a soft smile. ‘Actually, no, today I did but you pulled through.’

‘I don’t need to, but I want to.’ Cassian murmured. 

He’d done a pretty good job at sitting on his feelings for the last few years. Pushed them down when he felt the urge to tell you, and ignored them entirely when they got really intense. But that had been when the threat of completely losing you was just that: a threat. A distant possibility, and one that you were both too busy living your lives to fully consider. Now, however, you’d come close. Too close. Cassian had come face-to-face with a reality where you were gone, and one where he’d never actually told you how he felt. 

‘You know I love you, right?’ He quietly said. 

‘Yeah, I know.’ You nodded. 

‘No, I mean I love you.’ 

You peered up at him, realising what he was getting at. You did know. In fact, it had very much been an unspoken thing between you for a very, very long time. It was really just a matter of saying it - but that was always the hardest part, right? 

‘I know.’ You repeated. ‘I love you too.’

‘You do?’

You softly laughed. ‘Of course I do.’ 

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and pulled you back against his chest, chin resting atop your ahead. ‘Good.’

You stayed like that for a few minutes; it was undoubtedly a deeper conversation you were going to have later on, but it felt good to have it out in the open. So good, in fact, that it momentarily made you forget the last day entirely. Instead of pondering on it, you let yourself get lost entirely in Cassian’s presence, and the feeling of his body against yours and and his arms holding you. If you could have it your way, you would have stayed like this forever. The rest of the galaxy could wait. 

‘I’m sorry if you thought I was going to make in time.’ He said quietly. 

‘I didn’t.’ Your voice was slightly muffled by his chest. ‘Not once.’

‘I love you.’ Cassian said it more firmly this time. It still completely felt weird to say, and even more so to see you smile and say it back.

‘I love you too.’

He dipped his head down, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. The feeling of your lips against his was familiar and foreign all at once; it was something he’d gone over in his head a thousand times, but it was nothing like either of you had imagined. It was better. Sweeter, in the kind of way that gave you butterflies in your tummy and made you feel giddy. It was worlds away from the usual dread and bloodshed that came with being in the Rebellion. 

But that was quintessentially Cassian. He was everything that the war wasn’t: sweet and constant and warm. Somebody as beautiful and as caring as him both did and didn’t belong in the Rebellion. Did, because he was a good man who wanted to fight for the right thing. Didn’t, because he constantly risked his life for the greater good and you couldn’t quite stomach that idea. 

‘I’ll always come back for you.’ He lightly brushed his hand against your cheek. ‘Never doubt me.’

‘I won’t.’ You promised. ‘Not ever.’ 

tags: @megmeg-chan @karasong @bb8sworld @marvelinsanity @poestardust @etherealsanakin @bo-kryze​ @punkbach​ @phoenixhalliwell​

[angelguk]

yeah we hornae tonight!! this is jock!jk getting his soul sucked out by his gf in the locker room because y not! set in university. this is fairly recent into their relationships. jks really hot and oc is like wow??? cock in mouf sir?? mentions of derogatory language (yes oc has a degrading kink). cum swallowing. oral sex (m receiving). public sex. oc should be in class!! listen to still friends, not lovers by slchld. roughly 1.3k. 

You should not be doing this. Especially when you have a lab with Professor Kim in twenty minutes. But Jeongguk had asked you to drop his keys after your morning lecture. He’d taken a ride to practise with Yunho earlier, leaving you to drive his car to the campus grounds, which you don't mind doing if it meant avoiding the hectic public transits. Jeongguk needed the car back though, something about doing errands for Namjoon after his lacrosse drills. So there you were, ambling to the university fields with your boyfriend’s keys swinging with every step you took. How you ended up here, your knees bruising the concrete floor of the locker room and your mouth stuffed full of cock was a mystery to anyone — including yourself.

Jeongguk on the other hand does not seem to mind the comparison positioning at all. If only you hadn’t walked in when he was fresh from the showers, white towel slung around his waist, and the firmness of his torso almost taunting you.

“Shit.” It’s whispered in the silence of the room, your tongue swirling over the head of his cock. “Open a little wider for me, baby.” Jeongguk murmurs, a stray hand coming to settle on the base of your neck. He doesn’t push, but the presence of his wide palm is enough to urge you onwards, jaw silently aching as you swallow him down. But the discomfort is worth it when you feel his thighs tense under your fingers, a slight tremor detected as his head bumps into the end of your throat. He’s fucking huge, the memory of him stretching your cunt out vivid. You can’t help but squirm, underwear soaked and your clit feeling neglected. It’s not like Jeongguk wouldn’t offer to alleviate your desire. You know if you asked he’d sixty-nine with you right here on the locker room bench. But there’s only so much you’re willing to risk being caught doing.

So you focus on this instead; on the weight of Jeongguk on your tongue, the minute twitches of his length as his hips rise up and up until your nose is burrowed into his crotch, and the feeling of your throat constricting tight.

“God,” his sounds gone, a string of swear words falling from his lips as you slip your mouth over him again. It’s loud and lewd, you hope nobody is lurking at the doors because it’s very clear that someone is getting the life sucked out of them. And it’s not like Jeongguk hides it, moaning low when your tongue licks a stripe so sinful he nearly blows his load. You pull off with a wet pop, feigning ignorance to the wildness darkening his brown eyes. The huff he lets out his winded, a slight annoyance colouring his voice.

“Do your friends know that you’re this much of a slut?” Why that word makes your walls seize up is undecipherable to you. You give him a kitten lick instead, enjoying the way his hips jolt violently.

“I’m not normally like this,” you return, fist-pumping at the base of his length before your thumb leaves a pressured trail along his tip. Jeongguk hisses under this breath, abs drawn tight, the curve in his stomach pretty. “You just make me feel crazy. This is your fault.”

He blinks, slowly processing what you just said, the feeling of your tongue returning to his slit not helping his brain. “I make you feel — This is my fault?” Jeongguk’s reaching out for you in an instant, dragging you into his lap as his needy fingers press on your dripping cunt through the fabric of your jeans. “Take off your clothes right now. I don’t care who walks in I need to be in you.”

He plants a kiss on your lips before you can protest, your fingertips threading through his damp curls. It's soft under your touch, velvet as your fingernails scrap at the base of his skull. You like that he likes this, tasting himself on your tongue with a fervour that drives you mad. But you have to tear yourself away, hips trying and failing not to buck into his wandering hands.

“Can’t,” you murmur, Jeongguk’s lips feather-light on your check. “I have class in 15.”

“You’re a fucking menace, why would you do this to me?” He groans, his length sitting heavy on your thigh and his hands gripping your waist tight. “Is it Chem? Professor Kim can wait. I’ll make you cum quick baby, I promise.”

“No,” you retort, pushing yourself off his lap. He lets your sink to the floor, pretty petal lips falling open as you take him back into your mouth. A few licks and Jeongguk is trembling again. It’s still fairly odd that you now know what he tastes like but ever since the first time, you’d let him fuck your throat open you’d never wanted him to stop. You like pleasing Jeongguk, seeing how he whines and squirms and groans whenever you swallow him whole, mouth warm and wet and ever so welcome to whatever he wants to give you. You ease off with a smile that seems innocent but Jeongguk has quickly come to learn that that’s never the case with you. You’re more wicked than he thought, enough kinks to leave him waddling to practise the next day because he didn’t know he could cum that hard before. Even now there’s an ache in his balls that’s begging to be released, the tension that strings him tight almost painful.

“I don’t want you to make me cum quick,” you murmur, lips sparking a blaze on his thigh when you bestow his skin with a kiss. “Not tonight, at least.”

He gets the hint instantly; you have a penchant for denial, something he didn’t peg you for but a kink that Jeongguk indulges in nonetheless. He loves the way you beg for him, mumbling into the mess of his sheets until he finally finally slips between your legs and pounds you hard enough for you to feel him there the next day. Just the flash of that image has precum leaking from his slit, a spurt that you eagerly clean up before dragging your mouth back on him. The fact that you’re only like this for him is what drives his hand there, palm holding your head in place as he bruises your throat. He high hits him like a snap, something sharp and electric as his bones melt and fuse back together in the same second, your throat painted white. You swallow it around him, eyes teary and a deliriousness clouding your vision. This shouldn’t feel good but it does, the sudden thought that you like being Jeongguk’s slut flashing swiftly in your brain.

“You’re too good to me,” he mumbles, the words he says slurring into each other. He grabs your waist as your rise, placing a chaste kiss to your hips, his fingers squeezing your thighs tight. He couldn’t stand if he tried, knees not functioning as his nerves buzz with warmth. “I’ll pick you up after your class, okay. I don’t think Namjoon needs me for that long.”

“I have a study date with Yubin, babes. I’ll text you when I’m done.” He glares at you from underneath the mess of his curls, his face flushed a perfect rouge.

“Why do I have a nerd for a girlfriend?”

You huff. “I just blew you in the middle of the locker room.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t let me make you feel good too.” Jeongguk rises then, his towel not following him. You can’t help but giggle as he lips slot against yours, tender but purposefully, enticing enough for your mouth to fall open, Jeongguk’s tongue meeting your own with ease. “Just skip the class, babe. Please,” he pleads, holding you tight, length already twitching to half-mast against your stomach.

You humour him for a second, before poking his side hard. “I don’t want to fail my classes. Now give me gum so I can go.”

[eberles]

Hockey Fights

Jamie Oleksiak

a/n: this is like 2500 words of pure smut, this is also the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written. with that being said, i’m still new to writing smut so i apologize if it’s not up to par 😌 anyways, enjoy! feedback is welcome! add yourself to my taglist!

warnings: smut (light choking, fingering, oral - male & female receiving, missionary intercourse) 18+

Watching hockey fights was not a new thing for you and you had to admit they were pretty enjoyable. It didn’t help that your boyfriend, Jamie, was often testy on the ice and as hot as you thought it was, you couldn’t help but also be worried. Usually, Jamie had the upper hand when it came to fights considering his size compared to other players. And that was the same for tonight, but his opponent was able to get a few good hits on him which made your stomach drop at the sight. You knew he was bound to end up with a black eye or puffy lip from this one.

As soon as the game ended you made your way down to where the wags would wait for their significant others. Once as you spotted Jamie, you couldn’t help the wide smile covering your face as your eyes met with his. He got closer to you, placing his hands loosely on your hips and leaning down to kiss your lips. You pulled away, slapping his chest and giving him a playful glare. “You’re an idiot, you know?”

“Yea, but i’m your idiot.” Jamie laughed in response, and you pouted while examining the small bruise already appearing under his eye. But damn did it look hot, curse you for being attracted to the aggressive behavior he portrayed on the ice.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, taking Jamie’s hands in yours and feeling the small cuts on his knuckles from hitting the others guys helmet. Jamie nodded his head yes, while adding a dramatic pout to his face. “Well, let’s go home and maybe i’ll kiss it all better.”

“Let’s go, baby.” Jamie smirked, lacing your fingers together and hastily pulling you towards the parking lot with him. Jamie was well aware that although you never wanted him to get hurt, you loved watching him fight. He didn’t understand the appeal, but he absolutely loved getting you riled up. And every time he fought you knew you were in for it later that night. The thought alone made your knees weak. The drive home was painfully long, all your worries from Jamie's fight were turning into nothing but pure lust. His large hand on your thigh inching closer to your heat didn’t help your current state of neediness.

Your body was warm and tingling all over, his hand creating a fire over your body and wetness in your underwear. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you thought about Jamie’s hands all over your body and how good he was going to fuck you into your mattress. Jamie squeezed your thigh tightly pulling you from your thoughts and looking over at him. He had a visible smirk on his face and you knew he was thinking the same things as you were.

Finally, you arrived home and the two of you made it inside where Jamie slammed the front door shut. He used his body to push you against it, his hips pressed against yours where you could feel him hardening against you. He had your arms pinned above your head in his left hand while he used his right to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched his eyes turn dark with lust.

Your neck was in his hand before you knew it as he pulled you into a needy kiss, dipping his head down to meet your lips. His other hand released your arms, making its way down your body and grabbing a handful of your butt. Gasping into his mouth, you gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in, fighting with your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” Jamie pulled away from you, kissing down your neck between each word. He sucked small marks into your skin, earning a moan from you as he soothed them over with his tongue. Jamie played with the hem of his jersey you were wearing before pulling it over your head and tossing it behind him. He groaned seeing the lace covering your chest and lowered his head to kiss down the valley of your breasts.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” you said, feeling the heat between your thighs as your wetness seeped through your panties. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him away from your chest to look at you. “Jamie, I need you.”

“Patience, baby.” he kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth and tapping your thighs so you would jump into his arms. Wrapping your legs tightly around his hips so he could carry you down the hall to your shared bedroom. His suit jacket was long gone as you started on the buttons of his dress shirt when he placed you back on your feet in front of him.

You opened his shirt, revealing his toned chest and pushed it down his arms letting it drop to the floor. You ran your hands up and down Jamie’s chest and abs, feeling every inch of his soft skin as you kissed and sucked deep reddish-purple marks into his neck. slow growl left his throat when your hands found their way to his belt buckle, quickly undoing it and pulling it off. Your lips were back on his and his tongue made its way into your mouth, soft pants escaping into each other's mouths.

Your fingers worked on his dress pants, undoing the buttons and zipper before pushing them down his legs. The black boxers Jamie was wearing fit snugly around his hard length, his cock aching to be released. Your mouth watered in anticipation and you bit your lip seductively while staring up at Jamie through your lashes. You got on your knees in front of him and you swore his eyes rolled back in his head at the sight of you in front of him. “Oh god, baby, i’m not gonna last long.”

“I wanna take care of you, Jam.” you smirked, tugging his boxers down his legs revealing his hard cock as it sprung against his stomach. Grabbing the base, you licked a long stripe up the center and kitten licked around his red tip collecting the pre cum. You wrapped your mouth around his head, bobbing up and down a few times taking as much of his cock as you could, your hand pumping the rest of him. Jamie's hands gathered your hair making a makeshift ponytail, quiet moans left his lips as his hips bucked further into your mouth. “Baby, stop or i’m going to cum.”

Pulling back slowly, you kept your mouth wrapped around his swollen tip, focusing on swirling your tongue around a few times. Jamie grunted, grabbing your face in his hands and pulling you completely away from his cock. Licking your lips, a satisfied smirk taking over your face as you stood up, Jamie pulling you back against his lips. You used one of your hands to unclip your bra, letting your breasts free and pushing your chest against Jamie's body.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jamie picked you up, placing you on the center of the bed, laying next to your half naked frame. He kissed down your neck, taking the skin between his teeth every so often and reaching his hand down the front of your pants, cupping your heat. Your hips bucked as his fingers made contact with your slick center, Jamie chucked against your neck. “Jamie, baby, don’t tease me.” you pleaded.

“What? Like you did to me?” Jamie looked into your eyes, a smirk on his face as he swiped his finger along your folds before pulling his hand away. He sat up, watching you squirm under his touch as he slowly tugged your jeans and panties down your legs. Jamie cupped your pussy and your legs reacted by opening, exposing yourself to him. He moaned to himself feeling how wet you were and softly flicked his thumb over your clit.

“Who got you this wet? Huh baby?” Jamie slid his fingers over your folds before sliding one in your pussy. Your head fell back on the pillows and Jamie grabbed your cheeks in his other hand forcing you to look at him.

“Y-you, Jamie.” you whimpered as he added another finger, slowly pumping them a few times and planting a kiss to your lips. You were grinding your hips into his fingers needing more friction when Jamie pulled them from your throbbing core, earning a needy whine from you. He licked your juices off his fingers, “So sweet, baby.”

He kissed down the valley of your chest, swirling his tongue around one nipple and pinching the other between his fingers. The action sent a shock straight to your pussy, and you groaned as he took your nipple softly between his teeth. “Jamie, please.”

“What do you want, baby? Tell me.” Jamie pulled his mouth off your nipple, replacing it with his hand. He loved hearing you beg, he always knew exactly what you wanted and how your body reacted to his every move, but he needed to hear you say it.

“Anything, please. Jamie, please.” you begged, squirming under Jamie’s touch. Jamie continued down your body, taking his time licking and sucking at your skin. You wanted to scream, all of your senses were heightened and it felt like your body was on fire. You were so turned on, you felt like you could cum just from his subtle licks to your torso.

He finally reached your heat, looking up at your face through his lashes, blowing a stream of air to your clit and your body filled with goosebumps from the action. Your hips bucked again and Jamie lifted your thighs over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you in place. You moaned loudly as Jamie licked a long stripe up your center. His beard rubbing against your thighs with his face buried in your pussy was one of your favorite feelings in the world.

“Fuck, Jamie.” you breathed, and he focused his tongue on your wet pussy, his nose pressed against your clit. The burning was building in your stomach as Jamie flicked his tongue over your clit multiple time. He pursed his lips, sucking at the small bundle of nerves, your thighs closing in around his head. Jamie released your waist, his hand moving between your thighs and entering two fingers. “Holy f-fuck.”

Your hands were tangled in Jamie’s hair, tightly gripping his locks, attempting to push his head further into your pussy. Jamie moaned against you, pumping two fingers in and out as he focused his lips and tongue around your clit. A mix of curses and moans were leaving your throat as your orgasm approached. Your back arched off the mattress, and your legs were shaking around Jamie’s ears as your pussy twitched in his mouth. He continued finger fucking you through your high, your pussy quickly becoming sensitive to his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like this.” Jamie pulled his fingers from you, and you whimpered, feeling him lick a stripe across your sensitive core attempting to clean you up.

“Jamie, please fuck me.” you begged, pulling at his hair so he would be at eye level with you again. Hovering between your spread legs, his hard cock rested directly over your heat, softly rubbing against your wet folds. Jamie pressed his lips to yours, inviting you into a heated kiss, his tongue swiping across your mouth. You wrapped your leg around his hips pulling him closer to you while grinding your pussy against his throbbing cock.

“Only because you said please.” Jamie pulled away from your lips, grabbing his cock in his hand and sliding the tip across your folds a few times, grunting in the process. Pushing his tip into you, he let out a low groan, feeling your pussy completely envelop him. He entered you as slow as he possibly could until he was bottomed out inside you, filling you up. “Fuck, babe, you feel so good around me.”

You clenched around him a few times as he started to move in and out of you, quickly finding a steady pace. Both your legs were wrapped around his waist and your hands were scratching up and down his back, feeling his muscles contracting under your touch. “Faster, Jam, fuck.”

“This what you want?” Jamie fucked his hips into yours faster, his pelvis meeting your clit with every thrust as you threw your head back in ecstasy. Jamie took advantage of your head thrown back and rested his hand on your throat, leaning down so his lips met with your ear. “You like when I fuck you like this? Huh, baby?”

“Fuck yes, Jamie harder.” you moaned, encouraging this rougher side of Jamie that you loved so much. His fingers tightened around the sides of your neck as he continued to pound into you faster and harder with every thrust, his cock brushing against your g-spot. “Right there, right there.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight around me. You’re taking me so good, baby.” Jamie groaned, able to feel all of you around him, just as you could him. His length hitting every spot inside your walls, your pussy pulsating around him. Every thrust inside you, hitting right where you wanted him making your eyes water with tears at the pure euphoric sensation. You thrived off of the praises he fed you, his words pushing you closer to orgasm.

“Oh my god, Jamie i’m gonna cum.” The burning in your stomach coming alive for the second time. Jamie listened to your pleas and moved his fingers to your pussy, letting his thumb rub circles into your clit.

“Cum for me, baby. Let it go.” Jamie urged, and your legs shook rapidly around his waist as your pussy twitched around his cock. Your orgasm came over you hard as he fucked you through it, you scratched your nails into Jamie’s back and tugged on his hair. His orgasm followed as soon as yours hit, his hips stilling inside you as his cock twitched, filling you. His low groans filling your ears, sounding like the best noise in the world at the moment. “Holy fuck, princess.”

Jamie stayed buried inside you, kissing all over your face and lips. He slowly pulled out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of contact and he laid beside you, his hand resting around your waist. Pushing the hair out of your face, he adored the blissed out state you were in, your skin glistening from the thin layer of sweat covering your body.

You forced yourself away from Jamie, making your way to the bathroom with a slight throb between your legs. You admired the “just fucked” glow you had on your face in the mirror before cleaning yourself up. Smirking to yourself you reached in the shower, turning the warm water on and poking your head out the bathroom door.

“Shower?” you asked Jamie, a playful smile on your face and he wasted no time jumping out of bed and joining you in the already steamy bathroom.

—————————————————————————————————

taglist: @sortagaysortahigh @butgilinsky @kiedhara @beauvibaby @taiter-tots @ana-maa @iamtheblondestblonde @elitebarzal @himbos-on-ice @mycaptaintazer @joelsfarabee @calgarycanuck @lovenhlboys @tortito @twinklelilstarkey @whitesummerx @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @ebonyyyy-e

people who seemed interested: @no-pucks-given @deathordesire @withthelightoff @shesinfinite @whoeverineedtobe @newlibrary @dissonannce @damndunner @dutch-tv-fan @matbarzyy @mdclath @barzyspov @stars-canucks @heatherawoowoo @goalision @devil-in-those-eyes @beaudunn @ghostly--photography @extratragic

[landosgirl97]

Cheers to Charleston (Chasetell Series) Part 3

Chantell! You’re not another “conquest” to me. You really think I would’ve gone through all that trouble to track you down if I did?” I shrug. “How do I know I wasn’t the first one you came to in your DMs and you just figured out I was here?” He looked exasperated, “I don’t look at my DMs and you know that! Why do you think you're like the others? You aren’t and you never will be!” “You made me suck your dick before you even properly kissed me, Chase. Sounds like a hookup to me.” I huffed, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. When I was dressed there was a soft knock on the door. “I brought you an extra toothbrush from the guest bathroom, and a ponytail my sis left last time she was here if you want it.” he said softly. I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a moment.” He nodded his head and walked away, sitting on the bed and scrolling through his phone. Once my teeth were brushed and my hair was back, I walked into his bedroom. He had changed clothes and had music playing softly as he sat on the bed. He smiled softly at me and patted the spot next to him. I hesitantly sat next to him, shuddering as I released the breath I was holding. “Listen, I know I have a bit of a reputation. And I know why you think what you do after how things went last night, but I promise that’s not the case. I’m so serious that I will stop hooking up with other people. Just you.” My eyes went wide at that statement. “Chase, I can't ask you to do that. You have a demanding job, not a lot of time off, and I seriously don’t know when I can get down here again. It could be months!” He shakes his head. “It’s worth the wait. I really want to get to know you and I want to show you I’m serious about this.” I just nod and smile at him. “Can I kiss you now?” he asked me softly, a shy smile crossing his face. I answer by placing a hand softly on his cheek and leaning toward him. When our lips finally met, it was like my entire world was spinning, like fireworks exploding, and my heart stopping all at the same time. The kiss quickly turned heated as Chase and I began to put more passion into the kiss. This was different from the night before. This was softer, more exciting. Chase laid me back softly on the bed, continuing to kiss me slowly and passionately as he hovered over me.

He slowly began to kiss down my neck softly soothing the marks he made the night before. He slid his hands under my dress, massaging every inch of my skin as he exposed it, pulling it over my head. “You’re beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that last night.” He kissed up and down my body, leaving almost no surface untouched. I shifted my weight to sit up, him now laying on his back. I brought my legs over to straddle his hips, leaning down to kiss him again. Chase rested his hands on my hips, and let out a needy whine against my lips. I started to kiss down his neck softly, beginning to take off his clothing slowly. “Holy shit baby.. Why do you even wear a shirt with those abs?” Chase chuckles, “Well, it’s frowned upon when I don’t, but thank you.” I continued to kiss his body, pulling his pants down and off his body. I had just settled myself between his legs when he stopped me. “This morning is about you baby. What do you need?” I sat up, straddling him again. “I want to ride you.. Please?” He just nods. I reach beneath me, lining his cock up with my entrance and sinking down on him. He let out a groan as I sunk down on him, and I let myself fall onto his chest until I was adjusted to his size. He rubbed my back as I lay there, letting me wait until I was comfortable to move. I finally sat up with a groan, feeling him in my stomach. “It’s okay baby, take your time” he breathes, his thumbs rubbing soft circles in my hips. I slowly lifted myself up and lowered back down, moaning when my clit rubbed against his pelvis. I slowly picked up my pace, Chase’s grip tightened. I let out a hiss when it got too tight against the bruises from the night before. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” he said, looking defeated. I stopped my movements, rubbing a thumb over his cheek as I held his face so he was looking at me. “It’s fine. You did nothing wrong.” I leaned down to kiss him again as I resumed my movements. Chase began to meet my thrusts as he felt me clench around him. “Chase, I’m close! Shit…” he brought a hand down to rub my clit with his thumb. “Me too baby. Cum for me.” At his coaxing, I clenched hard around him, head flying back and back arching as I finally let go. I felt Chase still as he emptied himself inside me. When I finally came down from my high, I collapsed on his chest. We laid there in silence, catching our breath as he rubbed soft circles on my back until my phone went off. I groaned as I got up to check it. “It’s Lex. They want to meet at The Daily for breakfast in an hour. You cool with that?” He nods as he makes grabby hands at me. I giggle and quickly text her back. I crawl back into bed with him.

—------

We showed up to breakfast and I immediately saw Lex’s face immediately light up. “That’s his hoodie isn’t it?” I just shyly smiled and nodded. The guys hung back and walked behind us while we linked arms and walked in front of them so we could talk. “So I take it you slept together?” she asked. I scoff, “what? No!” She looks at me incredulously. “You’re kidding right?! You’ve got hickeys all over your neck. Your makeup only covers so much.” I roll my eyes. “Okay technically we hooked up twice.. But I know you and Rudy did it too!” She smiled shyly. “It was so sweet Chan.. he is literally the sweetest man ever!” I squealed as I pulled her in for a quick side hug. “What are you girls talking about?” Rudy asked, approaching Lex’s other side. “Oh nothing..” I wink at him, nudging Lex’s side with my elbow. Suddenly, I feel Chase’s arm snake around my waist as he pulls me in front of him and rests his chin on my head, still having to slightly bend due to the height difference. “Whatcha getting?” he asked. The rest of breakfast was the four of us screwing around together, laughing and enjoying our time before the boys had to drop us at the airport. We all decided to ride together in Chase’s Bronco to the airport, that way we could spend every moment we had left, together.

We pulled up to the airport and all sat there silently for a moment. We were in denial. None of us wanted to part ways, but we knew it was undeniable that we had to. Chase was the first to get out of the car, sighing as we all followed. The boys got our bags and met us next to the Bronco to tell us goodbye. “Bye Chan..I’ll keep in touch, is that okay?” I smile and nod, “I’d like that! Could I maybe give you my number? That may be easier than Instagram.” He chuckles, “that was the next thing I was going to ask. I can’t wait to see you again.” I shake my head. “Soon hopefully, I’ve got to go though or I’ll miss my flight.” I move to take off his hoodie, but he stops me, “what are you doing?” “Giving your hoodie back before I leave.” I said, confused. “Keep it. Wear it next time we see each other” he smirks. I nod and hug him. “Deal. Bye Chase.” Once we both had said goodbye to our men, we got our flights and went home. I cried my whole way home leaving him. I was excited to go back home and see my baby, but I would miss him desperately.

Tag List: @pankowforlife @wannabestarkeysgirl @my-baexht-ls @bethoconnor @samxslaughter @tishanas-darlings @jjmaybank63 @outerbankspov @slutforsmutsstuff @hoebx

[veinsandknuckles]

Comparison of appetites

Abed Nadir/f!Reader Abed reminds the reader that he’s a grown man and then proves his point. Pretty much straight up PWP, set sometime after season 3. Not BETAd, I got too impatient.

Explicit Content warnings: unprotected PIV sex

——–

“What are you doing?”

“God!” When Abed wasn’t in character as somebody else, he moved so softly you sometimes didn’t notice him until he was right beside you. You shut the fridge door and there he was. “...I’m just checking the fridge. It’s almost dinner time.”

Abed’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he surveyed the mess you’d already made. “Are you going to accidentally cook too much food again and then act like I’d be doing you a favour by eating some?”

Hmm. So much for your acting skills. “...no?”

Abed picked up a packet of noodles from the counter. “This is my favourite brand.”

“Is it?”

He frowned. It wasn’t that Abed couldn’t understand people, he was just usually too wrapped up in himself to turn his intense focus on you. When he did, he could see right through you. “I moved away from home five years ago. Please don’t try to take care of me.”

“Yeah, but Abed... I’ve seen you eat nothing but Let’s for three days straight. You’ll get scurvy.”

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

“I know you can look after yourself.” His intensity was starting to make you feel a little nervous. “I like it when we eat together, that’s all. It feels sad, cooking for one.”

Abed considered this and his stance softened. “Then we should take turns. I can take care of dinner tonight.”

It wasn’t often he took charge like this with you and you had no wish to stop him. There were limits though - you wouldn’t submit to a meal of all carbs. “Only if you’re getting take out.”

“Hm.” He reached out and plucked a menu from its place on the fridge. “How about this place?”

“Sure, I order from there all the time. I usually get -“

“Yes, I know your order.”

Either you were getting very predictable or Abed paid more attention to you than he let on. In case it was the former, you crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him. “Fine, mister Alpha. Blow my mind.”

“I could get us a couple of beers.”

You felt yourself beginning to blush. You couldn’t help yourself. “...This is starting to sound like a date.”

Abed gave you a long, searching look. “Maybe it should be.”

His gaze dropped to your lips. The tension was becoming unbearable - and then it broke when you reached for him and he moved in close. With his hands on your waist, he pushed you gently but irresistibly against the fridge and pressed his lips to yours in an urgent kiss. As soon as the shock abated, you grabbed hold of the front of his sweater to keep him in place. The easiest way to be around him was soft and yielding and it’d never felt as easy or as right to let him take the lead as it did right now. Not if this was what he wanted...

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good kisser. He felt your reactions, heard you sigh and whimper and teased you to hear it again. In case it wasn’t enough encouragement, you took one of his hands in yours and guided it slowly down your side until it rested just below the hem of your skirt.

Abed gasped and broke the kiss, just barely. “Are you sure?”

“I am, if you are.”

He replied by kissing you again, teasing your lips apart and letting his hand explore its way up your thigh.

You refused to be outdone. Now that you finally had your hands on him you wanted to feel all of him, the firm muscles he always kept hidden and the soft, warm skin of his long neck... then his fingers grazed against your cunt and you whimpered. You wanted to spread your legs, undress yourself, undress him, whatever would move this forward the quickest but all you could manage to do was stay upright and try to keep reasonably quiet.

You’d watched him and you’d wanted him ever since you moved in but you’d been so sure he neither noticed nor cared what you thought. He’d been polite and direct and usually too busy to let you bridge the gap between roommates and friends. You had almost felt guilty, fantasising about someone who seemed so completely uninterested. Had this been why? His breath was hot and quick against your throat, his grip on your waist was almost rough and his touch was sure and eager - there was no doubt anymore that he wanted this as much as you did.

“God, Abed...”

“More?”

“Yes, yes please.”

Abed leaned out and looked around, then shoved everything you’d left on the kitchen counter far enough aside to make room for you. You took the hint and hopped onto it with his help, he pulled your panties down and off, dropped them on the floor without a look and got between your legs.

His eyes searched yours and he kept watching you as he spread your legs even wider apart, pulled you closer to him and then slowly slipped two fingers into you. The sound of you moaning for him, eager and shaky, made him swallow. As good as it felt to finally have him touch you, it was rivalled by the look of almost pained want on his handsome face - his eyes were wide, his lips were parted, he breathed fast. How long had he wanted this? Had you both lain awake hurting for each other with just a thin, cracked wall separating you? What a waste...

Abed knew what he was doing. He started slow, hooked his fingers slightly and pressed up against your clit every time he almost withdrew. Whatever pulled a more urgent sound from you, he tried again and he soon settled into a rhythm just slow enough to tempt you to beg him for more. Maybe he was teasing, maybe he was only being careful - it was hard to tell.

You weren’t interested in keeping things so one sided. You reached for him again, teased his stomach with your fingers, trailed kisses over the nape of his neck and shakily began to undo his fly.

“You don’t have to,” he said and there was an unmistakeable tremble in his voice.

“I appreciate that,” you replied and held on tight to your patience, “and same to you, but just to be clear, I want you to fuck me. I’ve waited long enough.”

He shut his eyes, then nodded. His movements slowed, allowing you to work his fly open quicker and finally slip your hand down the front of his pants. He gasped when you touched him and you couldn’t help but mirror it - he was so hard it must be painful. You felt his dick twitch in response when you wrapped your fingers around it and it took some manoeuvring to pull him free.

Abed was never shy and rarely embarrassed and it was difficult at times not to be a little intimidated by such perfect confidence. This was definitely one of those times, especially now that you had another piece of proof of how well earned his self esteem was. As hard as he was, your touch only made him draw a slow, noisy breath. His attention was as steadily fixed on you and his self control as unwavering and he let you stroke him and admire the view for a few moments in silence. Then he smiled ever so slightly and you shook yourself out of it.

You scooted closer, hooked your legs around his hips and pulled him towards you. Abed gently pushed your hand out of the way, lined up against you and slowly, carefully eased himself inside your cunt. You reached for him, held on for purchase with one arm around his shoulders and your fingers digging into his arm and pressed your free hand over your mouth not to alert the neighbours with your moans. With your eyes shut and your head spinning, everything in the world seemed to fade but the scent of his skin, the heat of his body against yours and your need to take him deeper.

You were wet enough that even in this awkward position and even as thick as he was, he slipped in easily, inch by inch, stopping only when his hips were pressed up against your thighs and he had buried himself to the hilt. With one hand on your ass and the other on the counter he held you in place and began to fuck you properly, fast and hard almost from the word go.

Your resolution to stay quiet didn’t last long. Instead you clung on to him, cried out each time he thrust back into you, wordlessly egging him on, and put your other arm behind your head in a feeble attempt to stop it bumping into the cupboard.

“Oh God...” you whined once you finally found your words again. “Please, please don’t stop...”

“Yeah,” Abed breathed and that seemed to be all he was capable of for the moment.

Either he’d taken your words to heart or he couldn’t make himself care enough to play nice any longer because he was rough with you and took what he wanted. He kissed you until it got awkward, he shivered, moaned and bit his lip to keep himself in check but if he noticed, or worried, about bruising you or fucking you too hard too soon, he didn’t show it.

To get him this affected, for him to want you this badly and take you the way he wanted to take you was a fevered daydream come true. The discomfort of the sticky counter beneath you, the edge of the fluorescent light digging into your neck and his hands holding you ever so slightly too tight only added to it. Without words, without anything else to focus on but the feel of him inside you, the push and pull, the almost-completion when he bottomed out in you and the impatient hunger when he withdrew even partly, it was impossible to tell one moment from the next. Your whines and moans sounded more and more pathetic and his soft sighs and gasps escaped him more and more often.

Eventually, after however long it’d been, Abed leaned out and fixed you with a look of longing. “I... I’ve wanted this...”

You trembled. “Me too.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can last.”

Your cunt squeezed even tighter around him. The number of times you’d pictured what he might look like as he came undone... “Don’t hold back,” you whispered. “You can take me like this again, any time you like.”

Abed groaned. His brows furrowed, he shut his eyes tight and tried to breathe steadily but he was too far gone now to reign himself in. Without thinking, you locked him in place with your legs wrapped around him and your arms around his neck, kissed him and let him manoeuvre you as he wanted.

It took maybe two more desperate thrusts of his hips before he pulled you towards him and held you there. You felt as he came in you, felt it in the tension in his every muscle, heard it in his desperate, choked moan, felt it in his fingers digging into your flesh and felt it inside of you. Even as he rode it out, he pressed a final, clumsy kiss to your lips.

The next moments were also hard to define until reality began to creep back in. You had a crick in your neck and the kitchen was filthy, especially now; without the heat of the moment, it wasn’t so easy to ignore that everything about this was horribly uncomfortable. The two of you slowly caught your breath, eventually you relaxed and let him go and Abed stepped out and unceremoniously tucked himself back into his jeans. You shifted where you sat and realised with a blush that this skirt might have to be retired - the word sticky didn’t begin to describe it. Then Abed stroked your cheek with his thumb and you wanted to reach for him again.

“Are you alright?” he asked, sounding as steady as ever.

“I might be a little sore tomorrow,” you laughed. When he looked concerned, you continued, “in a good way. What about you?”

“I might walk a little funny.”

The question of ‘what happens now?’ was really beginning to loom, and you neither wanted to ask nor answer it yet. All of this would take some time to sink in and you were as unsure of your own answer as you were of his. Until this evening, you’d convinced yourself that the atmosphere in this apartment only stemmed from you and now you had to keep living together... While you deliberated, Abed rolled his shoulders and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Then he rescued you with a much simpler question:

“Are you still hungry?”

“Oh, yes. Especially now.”

He looked over at you and after hesitating almost imperceptibly, he asked, “do you still want to have dinner with me?”

“I do. Dinner, drinks and a movie, if you’re up for it...” Abed smiled and you smiled back. The wet spot you were sitting in would require bleach. There was almost twenty dollars worth of food scattered across the floor. Most important of all, you were pretty sure you’d just seen a crack in his confidence - he was relieved that you’d said yes and this was still a date, a beginning. “Especially now.”

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 15

It's been a bit, hasn't it?

.

.

.

Toshinori pushed himself up off the ground with trembling arms. Although, by the position of the sun, it hadn’t been for long, he’d blacked out when—

“Oh, no,” said Toshinori. His head throbbed at the sound, making the edges of his vision go dark and fuzzy.

When All for One had broken through into the shared mindscape.

“Oh, no,” he repeated.

Where was Izuku? He had to find—Oh, thank goodness, Izuku was right there. He let out a sigh of relief.

His relief was short-lived. Izuku, to put it lightly, did not look well. His eyes were open, but only glazed slivers. His breath was coming shallow and fast, not quite to the point of hyperventilating, but it was a close thing. His skin was pale, except for deep, bruise-like circles under his eyes. He was sweating more than Toshinori had ever seen him sweat (which was really saying something; Izuku broke out into nervous sweats with some frequency). Perhaps most concerningly, he was shaking like a leaf.

Izuku was, Toshinori realized, still maintaining the effect of Two’s quirk.

He tried to reach inside himself, contact his predecessors, but swiftly pulled his mental fingers back, as if they had been burned. Bad idea.

“Izuku,” he said, “can you hear me?”

Izuku made a small, pained noise that tore at Toshinori’s heart.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” he said. Izuku didn’t answer, but then Toshinori didn’t expect him to.

The simple act forced Toshinori to call on the embers of One for All. Not enough to make his muscles swell, but enough to give him the strength of an ordinary, healthy man. His muscles and his remaining intact lung screamed in protest, not to mention his scars. He ignored them.

He stumbled forward, priorities shuffling themselves. They’d been trying to escape, but if Izuku was this ill… he needed a doctor. An exorcist might be a good idea, too, what with All for One running around in their heads.

But to get a doctor, they’d have to put themselves in commission hands, and Toshinori could feel the echoes of Two and Three telling him exactly how stupid that would be.

The commission had sent Hawks after Izuku. Toshinori had no doubt they’d throw him in Tartarus, and the treatment of criminals in Tartarus was one of the few things Toshinori had publicly disagreed with the HPSC on in his hero persona. Not that it had gone anywhere. He simply hadn’t had the time to really push it and the commission had somehow managed to paint him as somehow too good, too forgiving, to be trusted when it came to the disposition of terrible villains.

“’ll be’kay,” mumbled Izuku, the sentiment clearer over their mental link. “N’ospital.”

“Okay,” said Toshinori, slightly breathless. “Let’s—Let’s keep going, then. Find a good place to camp out, far away from Todoroki Touya, here. Yep.” He was aware he was rambling, and needlessly at that, but he couldn’t help it.

One foot in front of the other.

Was that a car running?

Toshinori, keen on getting help and care for Izuku, even if it meant hijacking a car, changed directions slightly. Of course, it would be ideal if there were friendly bystanders who didn’t believe the hero commissions lies and had a medical license and a healing quirk, but Toshinori would be more than happy with—

He stopped. Laughed. Laughed some more, a little hysterically. There, abandoned in a ditch like a beached sailing ship, was Vlad King’s much abused car.

Sure, it would have been reported stolen by now, and the police and heroes would be looking for it, but that was a problem for future-Toshinori. Present-Toshinori, on the other hand, was simply grateful for the windfall, and wary – the presence of the car could indicate the proximity of the League of Villains.

He gently put Izuku down in the passenger seat, turned the car off and made sure it was in the appropriate gear, then walked around to the back of the car and lifted it out of the ditch.

If his muscles had been complaining before—

He staggered back to the driver’s seat, leaning heavily on the side of the car the whole time. Blood dripped from his mouth. “This is nothing, my boy, nothing,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, as he felt Izuku’s concern press heavily against him. “Used to have worse every day of the week.”

Toshinori got the sense that Izuku was not, in fact, reassured. Nevertheless, he grinned, pouring every drop of his fabled ‘everything will be alright’ smile into the expression. Even if Izuku couldn’t see it, Toshinori needed some of the comfort that came with donning a familiar mask

“Let’s see if we can get to the Wild Wild Pussycats today, after all.”

.

“Eri-chan,” began Abe, tapping together her papers. She’d drawn the short stick. Ito was interviewing one of the older students, and Abe got the feral child.

“No,” said Eri.

“I didn’t even ask you a question yet.”

“Only people I like get to call me -chan. That’s the rule. Prinzible Nezu said so.”

“Principal,” corrected Nezu, cheerfully, like the unhelpful rodent rat bastard he was. If only she could have gotten him kicked out… but, no, he and Present Mic were both sitting in on the interview.

“PrincipalNezu told me, and he’s in charge.”

“You tell ‘em, Eri-chan!” said Present Mic, just a little more loudly than was comfortable.

.

Eri nodded to let Present Mic know the noise-cancelling earplugs were working.

.

“In this situation,” said Abe, sternly, “I am in charge.”

The girl tilted her head, and suddenly her expression went from ‘pouting child’ to ‘superior being contemplating an uppity insect.’

“Eri-san,” began Abe.

“No,” said Eri.

Abe looked up incredulously. What was wrong with -san?

She decided to ignore it. “You spoke with—”

Eri began to scream like a teakettle whistling.

“Can’t you control her?” Abe demanded, turning to Nezu, who chittered.

“This is very good progress!” he said, barely loud enough to hear over the ongoing shriek. “Before now, Eri-chan was too hesitant to act out or misbehave in any way, fearing the punishment that her former and completely unqualified caretakers would inflict upon her.”

Abe didn’t know which was more longwinded, the still-screaming child or the rodent principal. Her body was so tiny, how was she still screaming?

.

Eri clicked off the Present Mic-themed combo audio recorder and player in her pocket at the same time she shut her mouth. Principal Nezu was right! This was fun! At least, it would be if Deku was here.

“I get to pick what you call me,” said Eri, patiently. Since this person wasn’t smart enough to see that Deku was only the best hero ever and not a bad guy, she’d have to explain slowly.

The person evidently wasn’t even smart enough to breathe, as she was slowly turning purple.

“What,” she said, in stilted tones, “would you like me to call you.”

Eri let the smile Aizawa had taught her spread across her face. “Eri-sama.”

“Is that a joke?”

“It’s very important to respect the boundaries children establish, Abe-san,” said Nezu.

.

Katsuki blinked. It was about time he woke up. Stupid dream time dilation or whatever. Stupid boring soy sauce face and his stupid boring mindscape dreamscape whatever hellscape. There was a limit to what you could do in a square mile that mostly consisted of a tape-covered jungle gym and a boring apartment building. Katsuki had found it, and, after spending a good period of time being angry about it, had decided to go to sleep.

Dream time dilation or whatever the commission proctor had been going on about after the first billionty-and-one stupid hours, it didn’t matter, Katsuki hated it, it was just taking too damn long. If he didn’t have to do this to keep his provisional license, he’d tell the commission to shove this stupid pointless training up it’s—

About a minute after he should have twigged to something wrong, Katsuki realized the ceiling was too familiar.

He sat up. Why the hell was he in UA’s infirmary?

And not just him, about half the class was here with him.

He scowled. So, something had gone wrong with the test after all, and it looked like Deku wasn’t involved. Stupid nerd would hold it over him.

“Hey!” shouted Katsuki, spotting Recovery Girl. “What the f—”

“Language!” scolded Recovery Girl, shrilly, practically teleporting across the room to jab Katsuki with her cane. “You’re in a school, young man.”

“I know that!” protested Katsuki. “But why the f—” he faltered under the force Recovery Girl’s gaze even as she started to run through the checklist she usually did for people who’d been knocked out like wimps. “Fudge. Am I here.”

“I think the more pertinent question is, how are you awake? There should be at least one more hour, if not two, left to that quirk.”

“I went to sleep,” said Katsuki, attempting to fend her off.

“Well, you wouldn’t be waking up if—”

“No. In the shhhtupid dreamscape thing. I went to sleep.”

Recovery Girl paused for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t suppose you were the one whose mind they were exploring?”

“No. That was soy sauce face. Why are we back here? And where’s the nerd?”

Recovery Girl seemed to droop at his question, and a heaviness filled the air. “That’s a long story.”

“Did we get attacked by Dusty McGee again?”

“No.”

“So, what did happen?” snapped Katsuki. “The nerd break out a new quirk in the middle of the training or something?”

Recovery Girl’s eye twitched, and she sat down on a nearby stool, taking a deep breath.

“The hero commission suspected Midoriya of working with the League of Villains and attempted to use the training to interrogate him. Under the influence of at least one mental quirk, Midoriya fled. At about the same time, All Might left and met up with him, after which the commission accused Midoriya of kidnapping All Might. They haven’t given him an S-Rank villain classification, but I suspect that’s just because the paperwork hasn’t gone through yet.”

All right. Honestly, with his creepy stalker notebooks and obsessive All Might shrine room, Deku probably seemed like a prime kidnapping suspect to an outsider, but considering that Katsuki had witnessed Deku and All Might’s sickeningly sweet interpersonal interactions, somehow managing to be a goddamn third wheel to some sort of surrogate parent-child found family drama nonsense…

“Has anyone told ‘em it’s more likely the other way around? And that if it was, it’d probably be for the nerd’s own good, too?”

Recovery Girl nodded tiredly.

“They hiding out here?”

“Midoriya is a wanted criminal.”

“So what?”

“We’re a school.”

“You’ve lost me.”

Recovery Girl sighed. “No, Midoriya is not here.”

“Well, that’s stupid. What are we doing about it?”

“Right now? You are doing nothing. Commission investigators are in the building, and it would be better if they thought you were still unconscious.”

Katsuki grumbled. “Should go and try to bring him back.”

“What, so he can be arrested?”

“No!” said Katsuki, defensively. “But he’s probably running around out there making everything worse!”

“Bakugo,” said Recovery Girl, patting his leg, “from what I’ve heard, the only thing that could possibly make this worse is being found.”

.

“Can you describe to me the circumstances under which you lost your quirk?” asked Ito, the other commission investigator.

“Sure!” said Mirio, hoping the man couldn’t detect his discomfort at the subject. Even if he’d made that split second choice to shield Eri with his body with full knowledge of the consequences, to jump in front of Nemoto’s bullet, it was still a traumatic experience. It still hurt, even if he didn’t regret it.

He took a deep breath. “Well, it was during the Shie Hassaikai raid. I had gone ahead to confront Chisaki Kai and rescue Eri. There were a few other yakuza with him, members of the Eight Bullets. Nemoto Shin, Sakaki Deidoro, and, ah, Chrono, I think. I can’t remember his proper name.”

“That’s fine. Please continue.”

“I engaged with Sakaki and Nemoto while Chisaki and Chrono went ahead. I was affected by their quirks, but managed to get by… It was a hard battle!” he interjected, suddenly. He belatedly realized he wanted to draw out this line of questioning, and dove into a supremely detailed description of his fight with Sakaki and Nemoto. It was funny, too, and he saw Ito getting sucked in.

Sir would have been proud.

“And then, I chased after Chrono and Chisaki!” said Mirio, gesticulating wildly to illustrate his movements. He continued narrating the battle, the wild swings of fate, Eri’s hope and fear, the strikes and counterstrikes! Just like when he��d first debriefed after the raid.

Weirdly enough, going through it like this also made him feel better. Less like he was reliving a terrible, painful moment in his life, and more like he was telling a very dramatic story.

“—aaaaaaand,” he wrapped up, “Chisaki tossed the gun with the erasure bullets to Nemoto – I hadn’t realized he was still conscious. I’d been too worried about getting to Eri.” He shrugged. “I got shot.”

“Despite your quirk?”

“I didn’t want Eri to be hit.”

“Even though the loss of her quirk might have been a blessing for her? Considering the difficulty she has using it and the pain it gives her.”

Mirio felt his smile settle into something blander and more dangerous than his usual beaming grins. “Are you suggesting that I should have let a six-year-old be shot?”

“Not at all,” said Ito, making a mark. “Now, where was Midoriya at this time?”

“He hadn’t caught up to us, yet,” said Mirio. “He was with Sir.”

“Who?”

“Sir Nighteye,” clarified Mirio. “Before that, they were with Rock Lock and some of the others, I believe.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“I wasn’t there, so… no, not really. But the exact situation should be on file, from our debrief, and Rock Lock can confirm or clarify.”

“Only the parts he saw,” said Ito. “Did you try to use your quirk after that? Or did you simply assume it was gone?”

“Of course, I tried to use it!” said Mirio, feeling somewhat offended. “I’d trained it to be reflexive. Right after, I kept thinking my quirk would protect me, and moving too slow to dodge attacks. I got really beaten up.”

“And was this before or after Midoriya Izuku arrived?”

“Before, mostly,” said Mirio. “It isn’t like the fight stopped the minute he showed up.”

“And you are certain your quirk stopped working before Midoriya arrived.”

“I’m sure.”

“How did you know you were hit by a permanent quirk-erasing bullet?” asked Ito.

“Well, when my quirk didn’t come back we were pretty sure,” said Mirio.

“But you didn’t know beforehand, for certain, that the bullets were permanent.”

Crap. Mirio had screwed up somewhere in there. He could feel it.

“I think Nemoto and Chisaki were shouting at each other about it during the fight,” said Mirio. “They were pretty proud of it.”

“But you did not know, for sure, that your quirk loss was permanent,” insisted Ito. “There was no way for you to know that their claims about the bullets were true.”

“I mean… not really,” said Mirio. “But, again, here I am without a quirk.”

“Yes… but that isn’t the only way a person can lose a quirk, is it?”

“The Scourge of Kamino was already in Tartarus when the Shie Hassaikai raid took place,” said Mirio. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Did Midoriya Izuku come into contact with you before the end of the day?”

“We talked, yeah,” said Mirio.

“Physical contact.”

“Actually… no,” said Mirio. “After the fight, we were both whisked off to the hospital, separately. Midoriya came to visit me after we both got patched up, he felt guilty about not getting to me and Eri sooner, and--” Oh, dear, he’d have to think back on that conversation a bit more. Later. He swallowed. “--and… Sir’s death…” He looked down at his hands. “Sir… in retrospect, he didn’t like Midoriya very much, but his death hit Midoriya hard. First death in the line of duty. It… it was the first time I’d seen a hero die, too.”

“You’re quite certain he didn’t touch you? At all?” asked Ito, undeterred by Mirio’s not-at-all-feigned grief.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” said Mirio, now annoyed by the investigator’s callousness.

“I see.”

.

Ochako rubbed her eyes, but the darkness stayed. “What,” she said out loud, her voice somehow doing the opposite of echoing, “what happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Todoroki. He had positioned himself so as to guard her back.

“There was a bang,” said Iida, “and then…” He trailed off, clearly finding just as much difficulty in describing the event as Ochako did thinking about it.

“They were talking about All for One getting in,” said Ochako. “You don’t think…?”

“Maybe we timed out the quirk and we’re about to wake up,” said Iida, optimistically.

“Where’s Aizawa-sensei?” asked Todoroki.

“I don’t know,” said Ochako. “He was standing with us… I mean, I couldn’t see you guys at first, either.”

“I’m here,” said Aizawa.

Ochako turned to see their teacher methodically scanning their black surroundings, his eyes red. “Do you know what happened?” she asked. “Do you think this is just, I don’t know, a new transition? A memory?”

“I don’t know,” said Aizawa. He blinked, eyes returning to their normal colors.

“It isn’t,” said an unfamiliar voice. The figure of a young man with uncut white hair slowly faded out of the darkness. “Hello.” He raised a hand. “I’m One. Or, I guess, you can call me Kazuki. Sorry about the landscape. Most of our mental resources were just rerouted.”

“Does this have something to do with that vault thing Izuku mentioned?” asked Ochako.

“Yes, sadly,” said One. “My brother’s broken out. Which means you really shouldn’t be here. All our minds are about to become battlefields. I have some techniques that might help you get out, but--”

“Six told me there was something taken from Midoriya that we could get back, if the vault was open. Is that still a thing?”

One raised a fist to his lips, and pressed down. “You understand, don’t you, that to search for this is to go into my brother’s mind?”

“If it’s to help Midoriya,” said Todoroki, stepping forward, “we’ll do anything.”

“That is very admirable of you,” said One. “I do mean that, I really do, and I’ve seen your heroics and spirit through Izuku’s eyes. But I’m not sending children to fight my brother. Eraserhead, you’d be going alone.”

“I can work with that,” said Aizawa.

“But we won’t be in any real danger!” protested Ochako. “The worst that could happen to us is that we’ll run out of time and wake up. Right?”

“Don’t underestimate my brother. Judging from the fight at Kamino, he lost a lot of quirk control and strength after his first fight with Eight, or else he’d never have been captured. But that’s only if we take it at face value. I don’t doubt that he has five or six plans in place to escape Tartarus and steal every interesting quirk in there, thereby increasing his power exponentially, or even healing himself.”

Ochako blinked. How would anyone heal from… Wait. “Overhaul.”

One’s smile was a bitter thing. “I certainly wouldn’t have put the two of them in the same prison.”

The villain at Kamino, already strong enough to go toe to toe with All Might, with Overhaul's power? Ochako shuddered.

"What did he take from Midoriya?" asked Aizawa. "I'm going to need to know before I do this."

"You're sure you want to do this, then?"

"I haven't decided."

One sighed and pushed his hair back, out of his face. Ochako was struck, momentarily, by how the color of his eyes perfectly matched Izuku's.

"My brother took what he always takes," said One. "His quirk."

"But!" protested Ochako. "He has a quirk! He has..." she trailed off as another revelation hit her.

"He…" said Iida, next to her, "has several quirks."

"He has your quirk," said Todoroki with one-hundred-percent unwavering confidence.

"You had a quirk like All for One," said Aizawa. "But considering what we've seen… the quirk to pass on quirks?"

"That's why you call yourselves by numbers! Because that's the order you had the quirk in!" added Ochako.

"I prefer thinking of it as the ability to share quirks," said One, "but since everyone but Eight and Nine is dead, the distinction is academic."

Aizawa sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Okay, let me get this straight. You and... your brother both had meta quirks. He could… give and take quirks. You could just pass your own quirk on. He decided to become a criminal mastermind. You decided to, I don't know, invest your quirk until someone had enough quirks to fight your brother?"

"And they're all related," said Todoroki.

"And you're all related," said Aizawa with an air of suffering.

"It was significantly less intentional and more complicated than that, but, yes, those are the basics."

"And, for some reason, All Might thought that it was a good idea to pick a teenager for the job."

"In his defense, Eight thought my brother was dead. The one you should really be throwing shade at is Seven."

"I have questions."

One tilted his head. "Normally, I would answer them, but we're running out of time."

Aizawa sighed. "Alright. I'll do it."

"We want to help, too!" said Ochako.

"Three will find a way to ghost murder me if I get you involved in a fight with my brother."

"So would I, incidentally," said Aizawa, "and then I'd expel all of them."

Iida cleared his throat. "Is there any way for us to help without coming into contact with All for One?”

“Yes,” said One, clapping his hands together. “Getting out before that Suzuki fellow does and giving Izuku some good publicity.”

One’s image seemed to waver and split, then, as if Ochako had crossed her eyes. She blinked, hard, but after that there were still two of them.

“I’ll lead you to my brother’s mind,” said one of the Ones, waving at Aizawa.

“I’ll stay and try to help the rest of you get out,” said the second One. “We should - Oh.”

“Oh?” repeated Aizawa. “‘Oh,’ what?”

“Oh, we forgot about someone,” said One.

.

“Oh,” said All for One, catching sight of an anomaly. “Who is this little intruder to our gathering?”

“Just some government lackey,” said Miranda, hands still for now, but in a position where she could likely summon ball lightning in a matter of minutes. “Not someone you can use as a hostage.”

“Actually,” said Ryuji, who, unusually, had yet to disappear from All for One’s senses, “if you could figure out a way to get rid of him, it would be convenient.”

“Two!” snapped Nana.

“Come on, we were all thinking it,” said Ryuji.

“You can’t use a him as a murder weapon,” hissed Nana. “Nine will get in trouble.”

“You’rethe one who repeatedly dropped him from a dozen stories up. And the one who was fantasizing about murdering him in real life.”

“That daydream could have belonged to anyone.”

“It had Gran Torino in it.”

“Eight knows Gran, too!”

All for One coughed, returning the full attention of the vestiges to himself. “Is this a pathetic attempt at a distraction?”

“Do you know any other adjectives?” asked his little brother, who was slouching off to the side with his hands in his pockets.

All for One sneered. “Are you not taking this seriously?”

“Not really, no,” said Kazuki, “and neither are you, or else we’d be fighting already. We both know that what you can affect here is limited.” He started counting off on his fingers. “You can’t bring us back with you, you can’t affect Nine’s morality, you can’t take the stockpile, you--”

“I knew it!” shrieked the little intruder, jabbing a finger at All for One. “I knew it! You’re All for One! Midoriya is working for you!”

“Hey, if you’re going to do the sibling thing and prove me wrong about the whole ‘can’t do anything’ thing, can I suggest you start with him?”

All for One narrowed his eyes and scanned his relatives. There was an uncharacteristic lack of protest.

“Are you briar patching?”

“No,” said Hibiki, “they’re quite serious. I personally would prefer it if you didn’t kill him, but not enough to risk myself.”

He could always trust Hibiki to be blunt and straightforward. He got it from his wonderfully forthright and businesslike mother. He hadn’t loved her like he loved his current, still-living spouse, but she had been refreshing.

“Mood,” said Rokuya.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” said dear, sweet Izuku, raising a hand, “but I’m not actually comfortable letting All for One kill him in front of us.”

“Don’t try that now! You’ve shown your true colors, traitor!”

“Don’t worry, kid,” said Daigoro, “we’re pretty sure he won’t be able to.”

“Torture, then.”

“Not sure he can do worse than Nana did.”

“All I did was drop him!” protested Nana.

“Repeatedly, from a great height,” Miranda reminded her.

Everyone was much more relaxed, now, and… were they ignoring him? They were!

“Are you all under the effect of a quirk?”

“Yeah,” said Kazuki. “How else do you think this is happening?”

“No, I mean… your personalities… they’re all…” He gestured at the One for All users who had stopped to watch him.

“Niichan, I’ve tried to tell you this before, but at least for me, I’m not all that great a person. You just suck so enormously that I look like a saint in comparison.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is,” said Kazuki. “I mean, think back to our first argument. I was less concerned with your overall morality and more concerned with the fact that the demon king alway loses--”

“Excuse you, but I’ve beaten every one of you.”

“No you haven’t,” said Hibiki. “I, at least, died with no input from you.”

“Killing you is obviously different from beating you,” said All for One.

“I mean, by the time you chucked me in that vault, it had evolved to a moral and ethical complaint,” said Kazuki, his one visible eye unfocused in remembrance. “But it started out with me worried about you getting yourself killed.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It really did. You know, I don’t think I ever told you this, but if you’d been twenty percent more ethical? I would have absolutely been on your side.”

“What.”

“I mean, it was you, the government, and ragtag resistance groups, and the government sucked.”

“I can confirm that,” said Miranda, “and it continues to be disgustingly corrupt. But since you’re also swimming through the human experimentation cesspit, we’re staying where we are. Don’t get any ideas.” She ended the sentence with a hiss and fog started rolling in.

“I agree that if you stayed away from the kidnapping, murder, and cult stuff, I would have probably stayed with you,” said Ryuji. “Except you did do all that stuff… Why are we even talking about this?”

“I would add personal freedom to the list of things I’d want from you in the hypothetical world where we stayed on the same side,” said Hibiki, “but, otherwise, I agree.”

All for One blinked several times, a small part of his mind cherishing the fact that he had eyes. “Do you all feel that way?” he asked, oddly touched but also strangely disturbed.

“No,” said Daigoro, “the rest of us hate you and the government just about equally.”

All for One turned his gaze to the quivering ‘government lackey.’ “I see. So, I suppose I have the government to thank for this turn of events. Hm? What did you do to have these soft-hearted fools so upset with you?”

The little man squeaked and jabbed something like an epi-pen into his leg. A second later, he vanished.

“Wait,” said Izuku. “Wait. THAT’S how to get out? That’s so stupid! Can we do that?” The last was said as an aside to Nana.

“Not with him here,” said Miranda. Her voice had dropped back into its more dangerous registers.

“Oh, so we are going to fight after all,” said All for One, clapping his hands and smiling. “What fun.”

.

“I can’t believe you distracted him and got Suzuki to leave like that,” said Aizawa as they stepped out of the fog.

“Well, my brother always did like to hear the sound of his own voice. And be a jerk, but I’m sure that was obvious,” said One. They came to a stop in front of a normal-looking apartment building. One sighed. “This is where we lived,” he said. “Before…” He sighed again.

Aizawa examined One out of the corner of his eyes. He looked tired.

“How much of what you said back there was true?”

“Huh? Most of it, really. My successors built me up as some kind of big good, but I was never anything but a normal guy with a slightly more functional moral compass than my brother.”

From what Aizawa had seen so far, he suspected One was seriously underselling himself.

“I’m sorry,” said One, “but I’m going to have to leave you here. Nine’s quirk should look like a younger version of himself. He couldn’t have been any older than five when it was taken.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Sorry, not really… I’ve not exactly been inside my brother’s head. If you manage to find a switch labeled ‘empathy,’ you might take a second to flip it on. Or not. Could be booby trapped. Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Great,” said Aizawa.

.

“Midoriya-san,” said Mr. Compress. “We’ve been searching for quite some time now, I hate to say it, but I rather suspect that your son has thoroughly escaped.”

“Escaped,” repeated Midoriya. “Like a prisoner.”

Mr. Compress coughed into his fist. Tomura glared at him through a fog of exhaustion. He was wearing a mask. Why bother with the fist at all? Sometimes, Tomura felt like the only sane person on a planet of aliens.

“Honestly, we didn’t even know he was in the area, Midoriya-san. But… Perhaps at this point, the best course of action would be to return to our, uh… temporary base so that you can get some clothes. I’m sure Dabi will have something that can fit you.”

“Or maybe,” said Toga, hesitantly, “Magne might have had something?”

“Excellent idea, Himiko! Yes, I’m sure Magne’s clothes will be much more appropriate.”

“I don’t know that dressing her in a dead woman’s clothes is a good idea?” whispered Twice.

“Normally,” said Midoriya Inko, “I would say that the fires of my anger at Hisashi provide me with enough warmth to scorch the ground I walk on but—” she shivered, “—unfortunately you may be right. I’m not a young woman anymore, and Izuku would want me to be safe and healthy. So that I can give Hisashi a… firm talking to.”

Tomura shuddered. The ice in her tone was more frigid than the toilet seat in their stupid unheated bathroom at night.

… He hoped Sensei didn’t get a mind reading quirk in the near future. He definitely didn’t want him to know about that metaphor.

“Machia, will you be a dear and take us back? And Mr. Compress, would you put Dr. Garaki back in one of your marbles? I suspect he’ll be… more comfortable that way.”

At least Tomura wasn’t the doctor.

Machia leaned down and let them all get on, though not before fixing Tomura with a glare and delivering some glitchy threat about the ‘Little Lord’ and ‘playing nice.’ Completely redundant, what with Midoriya Inko’s much more pertinent and detailed threat regarding the same thing.

“Hey,” said Twice. “Do you guys smell--? It’s like a barbecue!”

Himiko sniffed the air. “It does smell kinda smokey, guys. Do you think Dabi got in a fight, too?”

“With who?” asked Tomura.

“Well, Izu-chan has to still be around here somewhere, right?” asked Himiko, putting a finger to her lips.

Machia sped up.

“It’s probably just the wind blowing someone’s bonfire smoke this way,” said Spinner.

Machia slowed down again.

Tomura frowned. “There shouldn’t be anyone close enough for that,” he said. If Dabi had set the forest on fire and given away their position, he was going to murder him.

Machia sped up again.

They came into sight of their current base and the source of the smoke.

These happened to be the same thing.

“I’m going to kill Dabi,” said Tomura.

“Are we sure it was him?” asked Twice.

“I don’t care.”

[fanfic-me-up]

Hiiiiiii can I request Bakugou x fem!reader?? (*≧∀≦*) Maybe he has a crush on you who has a healing quirk and helps recovery girl when it comes to helping the injured, like when class 1-A finishes up training and recovery girl normally sends her to deal with it all the time? She can heal people but it drains her energy so when she finished with it she takes naps on the recovery beds? Idk but thanks!much love❤️❤️❤️

This is a really cute idea! Thank you for requesting 💖 

“Shut up and Heal me”

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: Language (what do you expect, it’s Bakugou lol)

Synopsis: You’re a student at U.A. and Recovery Girl’s apprentice healer. When you push pass your limit to heal Bakugou Katsuki, who knew he cared enough to make sure you heal too.

“Wake up, dumbass.”

Your shoulder is shaken, abruptly waking you from your nap. A muscular silhouette takes shape as you pry your eyes open.

“Bakugou? Is that you?” Your voice laced with sleep. 

“Nah, it’s Batman.” 

You squint your eyes, still half asleep. Is this a dream? Bakugou rolls his eyes at your inability to detect blatant sarcasm.

“‘Course it’s me, dipshit. Get up.”

You check your phone and groan when you find you only got five minutes worth of valuable shut eye.

“You’re here early.” 

“Aizawa-sensei let us out early!” Midoriya pipes up. He’s chipper for someone who looks one step away from passing out. Any trace of sleep vanishes when you assess his injuries, asking him a series of questions to confirm where he needs medical attention and if it’s life-threatening. You usher him to Recovery Girl’s office so he can get treated immediately. Typical Midoriya - always going plus ultra even for training exercises. 

Bakugou’s no better as you take in the numerous scrapes and bruises raking his body. Despite his beaten-up state, the only open wound is on the right side of his stomach - a small pool of blood seeping through his muscle shirt. He’s been pushing himself much harder in training these past couple weeks and you know it’s the life of a hero, but you’re concerned for him as a healer and as a friend. 

“You gonna stare all day or heal me?”

“Sorry, right, uh.. Take off your shirt and get on the bed.” 

The words escape before you realize the implication. Bakugou raises an eyebrow before snorting.

“Tch. Weirdo.”

You flush as he takes off his shirt, laying down on the bed. The wound running down his abdomen is not deep, but it is long. It’ll be difficult to heal, but you’re always up for a challenge. You wash your hands before activating your quirk. A glowing aura surrounds your hands, transparent in color, but before you can focus on changing the color to heal Bakugou - a spaced out Kaminari stands before you with his signature thumbs up. Snot is running down his nose and his eyes have this blank look like no one’s home. 

“hewwoo?” 

“Oi! Dunceface! To your right!” 

“wa-whee-whaa?” 

That’s Kaminari gibberish for “Where?” Being Recovery Girl’s intern and constantly healing Class 1-A along with other students in the hero course has made you quite familiar with the unusual side effects of overusing one’s quirk. You created a book with translations for Kaminari’s most used gibberish phrases so you can treat him more efficiently. Today, you tried placing his juice box and cookies on the table to the right to see if he can find it himself. But he’s having problems finding what direction is right.

“Your other right, dumbass.” Bakugou growls as Kaminari bends down to look for his juice box under a chair. You giggle as you help him locate his snack before ushering him to one of the recovery beds to take a nap. He knocks out in no time, snoring softly. Bakugou grunts, his hand pressing against the wound on his side. 

“Don’t touch, it could get infected.” 

“Tch. I know, but look.” He releases his hold to show you the blood dripping down his abdomen. You curse for not healing him sooner when he was clearly a higher priority than Kaminari. How could you forget the number one rule as a healer? There’s no time to beat yourself up for it so you grab a cleaning cloth to wipe away the blood before activating your quirk once again. You close your eyes, focusing your energy into what you’re about to do which is close up a wound. Red swirls behind your eyelids and you focus the color down your body to your hands. You open your eyes to find them glowing a bright, luminescent red - a stark contrast to the dim lighting in the room. Bakugou hisses at the touch; your hands trailing along his abdomen. You look up to apologize when you notice Bakugou’s flushed cheeks, as red as your glowing hands.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit flushed.” You deactivate your quirk in your left hand to touch his forehead. It’s cause for concern if he has a fever due to an open wound, but you’re taken aback when Bakugou swats your hand away.

“I’m fine! Shut up and heal me.” He looks away, but you catch the persistent redness now making its way down his neck. You return to healing the wound. It’s almost closed, but you can feel your energy draining quicker than usual since you didn’t have enough time to recover earlier. 

“Hey, you good?” 

“Mhm. Al-most… done…” You bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to concentrate the last of your energy into closing the rest of the wound.

“Don’t push it, dumbass.”  Bakugou grunts and despite the harsh tone, there’s a tinge of concern underneath. 

“Heh.. could say… the same… for..” 

You trail off and your hands glow brighter by the second that you can see red behind your eyelids. You feel the wound seal shut and when you open your eyes you see there’s not a scar in sight. This is the first time you were able to completely heal a wound on your own. You smile at your accomplishment. 

“You can take your hands off.” 

You flush before ripping your hands away. The quick movement gives you a head rush, the room spinning in circles.

“Whoa.” Bakugou grabs you by the shoulders and reverses your position so you’re laying down now. 

“My head hurts…”

“No shit,” Bakugou snorts, “What’d I say about pushing?”

“Go beyond... plus… ultra…”

The last thing you hear is Bakugou laughing, a soft smile curling his lips, before your vision goes black.

------------------------------------------------

You wake up to the smell of roasted coffee and cinnabons. Faint voices go back and forth, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. The light streaming in is gone; the room now darker than before. Jeez how long were you out?

“Took you long enough.”

You whip your head to see Bakugou sitting on a chair and nursing a cup of coffee. The bed next to yours is empty. Kaminari must’ve recovered meaning you’ve slept for more than an hour.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah, and? Wanted to make sure you didn’t die ‘cause of me.” 

City lights shine bright, and the hustle and bustle outside suggests the city isn’t going to sleep anytime soon. Live music roars from nightclubs and people laughing on the street would entice anyone to join the party. It’s pretty hard to believe Bakugou would stay behind on a Friday night when it’s common knowledge that you need to sleep after overusing your quirk. But here he is, that same strip of red running along his cheeks and nose like he just got a cute little sunburn. 

“You like laser tag?” Bakugou asks.

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shrugging when you answer.

“Never played.”

Bakugou balks, shock written all over his face.

“You never - what kind of person - nevermind. If we hurry, we can make the last round.”

Maybe this time you really were dreaming. You subtly pinch yourself to make sure and nope, this is real life and Bakugou is inviting you to hang out.

“Sounds... fun? But I… um…I’m not really part of your squad…”

You didn’t want to overstep. It seemed like they were a pretty tight-knit group and you’ve never hung out with them outside of school. The fear of ruining their night because you didn’t vibe with them twisted your gut. 

“Gimme your phone,” Bakugou says.

Still in a daze, you give him your phone without question. He takes his phone out and not a second later you hear a “ping” from yours, He presses a couple buttons before handing it back to you. 

“Congrats, you’re part of the squad.”

You see that you’ve been added to a group chat called “keeping up with the crackheads”. You don’t have time to contemplate exactly what you got thrusted into as Bakugou is grabbing both of your jackets hanging on the coat rack, handing yours and pushing you towards the door. 

“I- um.. Thanks… I guess...? Bakugou, what’s going on?”

You’re already halfway down the hallway, everything happening too fast without a clear explanation. Bakugou groans, clearly frustrated that you’re not a mind reader and he has to actually communicate what he’s thinking. He grabs your shoulders, gently shoving your back against the lockers, and planting his hands on either side of you. Being this close to Bakugou makes you feel a familiar flurry of butterflies as you’re caged in and forced to look into those crimson eyes. 

“I. Like. You.” He smirks, getting a kick at your flustered state, before leaning away with his hands in his pockets, “And I know you like me too.”

You don’t know what to freak out over first. The fact that Bakugou knows about your crush or that he likes you back. Also, how does he know you like him? You haven’t told anyone about your crush, preferring to keep your cards close to your chest.

“Don’t talk in your sleep if you don’t want me to know how much you wanna run your hands down my ‘chiseled abs’.”

You squeak and cover your face with your hands, too embarrassed at what else you might’ve said in your sleep.

“Chill, dumbass, it’s cute.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading you to a night full of riveting laser tag, making new friends, and first kisses. 💖

[chaos-mybeloved]

S.H.I.E.L.D Business

Hello! I'm now fully on Summer vacation and I forgot how fun it is to write things without an academic purpose so I decided to try something new. I wanted to write my first ever fanfic but then didn't know where to start and this happened instead. I hope someone enjoys it! Its a reader insert, first time writing one of these. Also, I'm black so I had black reader in mind when writing but I didn't really describe anything in detail.

Word count: 1500 (ish)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female agent!reader

Warnings: There's some smut in there, not overly explicit but its there 18+ content

Agent Y/LN is one of SHIELD's best agents

She and her team are SHIELD's elite, even more so than the STRIKE team. She works directly with Fury and Agent Hill

Steve Rogers knows all of this. He's read her mission reports, watched her training footage, he even has every word in her SHIELD file memorized. He's a little obsessed

When Bucky turns up and with that the threat that Hydra might still exist within SHIELD, she is called into work with the Avengers; all of Fury's most trusted agents working together

Steve is more than excited to work with her, he's been dreaming of an opportunity like this since he's heard of her

However, things aren't working out quite in Steve's favour when it turns out that she has taken a liking to Bucky more than Steve. She laughs with him and brings him out of his shell better than even Steve has been able to since his return. Something about kindred spirits.

Steve shuts down a little, sinking into his pit of despair and self-loathing, so much so that he makes a bad call on a mission and nearly gets everyone killed

Y/LN takes over and gets the mission back on track, saving everyone's ass in the process

When they get back to the base she seeks Steve out to ask what has gotten into him. The conversation gets heated and Steve gets angry enough to tell her that she's the problem

She sees that Steve needs the release so she lets him when he reaches out and kisses her. She lets him stick his tongue in her mouth and taste everything she has to give

She lets him run his big, smooth hands from her face, down her neck and over her breasts to finally slip under the tank top she’s wearing. She feels him moan into her mouth and she swallows it down, knowing how bad he needs this. He almost got everyone killed because of how bad he needs this so she lets him

The first touch of skin to skin seems to break some of the restraint he had left because suddenly his hands aren't just exploring anymore, they're demanding. He grips the flesh on her tummy hard enough to bruise and she lets him do it simply flicking her own tongue over the roof of his mouth, giving back just as much as she's getting.

Her hands haven't left the confines of his hair. The golden strands slipping and sliding through her fingers like silk. She's in no rush to move any time soon, content to let Steve rush enough for the both of them. He seems to be in a fever now; his hands are hot and searing as they knead and squeeze every inch of skin they can reach.

When he finally makes his way back to her breasts, his finger immediately finds her nipples and pinch. The little sigh she lets out cracks him open even further. He wrenches his mouth away from hers and trails it down her jaw and neck instead. He bites and sucks and she knows he wants to leave marks, reminders that he was here, that he got to have this if even for a short time. The marks will stay for a while, she knows, and she lets him anyway.

When he starts mumbling incoherently into the junction between her neck and shoulder she knows he's too far gone to think about this anymore. She huffs internally thinking about how he's probably thought about this enough to fill a lifetime. She hopes her reality won't disappoint.

He bunches the material of her top up under her armpits and his mouth moves down to her fully exposed breasts. His sucking and biting continue there now too. His tongue feels just as hot as his hands did as it flicks over a nipple and then the other one as if he can't decide where to place his attention. His hands, however, seem to have an idea of their own. With his mouth now covering where his hands used to be, his hands move down, down, down, until he's teasing at the button of her tac pants.

He hesitates. He doesn't want to stop but somewhere in his desperation-filled brain, he can register that this might be too far. He was moving out of sheer desperation before but he finds that he needs the verbal confirmation that she wants this just as bad. Without removing his mouth, he opens his eyes and looks up into her own. The deep blue of his eyes has been swallowed almost entirely by black. He looks consumed and neither of them are even fully naked yet.

"Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me."

It's the most coherent thing he's said since he kissed her even if he did mumble it around her nipple. She looks down at him fully taking in his trembling fingers poised to strike the moment she says so. She's used to having power, she's even used to people giving up theirs to her but this feels different. This is almost intoxicating, and alarm bells start going off in her head because it feels just a little bit addicting too. It feels as if he stopped right now she might also, not fall apart, but definitely splinter somehow as if something is missing. Something will be missing. Goddamn you, Steve Rogers.

"Go on, soldier," she smirks down at him, "do your worst."

He nearly rips her pants straight down the middle with the force he uses to pry the button open. She chuckles but it quickly turns into a moan when he dives straight for her pussy. His fingers feel a lot bigger down there than they had on her chest. They're nimble though; artist fingers no matter how much of a soldier he is now. He rubs at her eager but slow, sensual. She's about to lose her damn mind.

She can't decide what she wants out of this. She knows his strength, he can give it to her hard and dirty if she asks but the pace he's set now is good. Slow and dirty and rough might be the way to go tonight. They don't really have the time but that all seems irrelevant as he slips one of those long fingers into her.

He's started mumbling nonsense into her skin again. He seems content with the work he's done on her breasts for now. The brown nipples are puffy and shiny with spit. Her entire chest really is covered in Steve's spit. It's a subtle claim but a claim nonetheless.

"What am I allowed to do?"

It takes her a second to register the question; his fingers haven’t stopped their slow attack on her pussy.

"Whatever you want, Captain," her breath rushes out of her as his thumb gently massages her clit. "You're the one who started it and I'm trusting you to finish it."

And finishes he does. She had caught him in an empty board room and so the large desk in the middle of the room will have to do. He removes his hand and her pants and then picks her up without any warning, almost in one complete motion. Before she even realizes what's happening she's on her back with her legs over his shoulders and a face in her pussy eating like it's his last meal.

She lets go after that. She doesn't keep track of her first orgasm of the night, nor the next one, nor the one after that leaves her clenching around the thick length of him. She doesn't keep track of the praises he whispers into her skin like prayers, words she realizes he's been saying the whole time. She doesn't actively process the feeling of his lips back on hers but she thinks she kisses him back. She must because he's moaning again, right into her mouth like the sound is only for her. It is only for her she realizes much, much later. When everything is over, when the heat has cooled between them and those dark blue eyes are no longer peering into her soul, and her body has stopped shaking with leftover pleasure that's when she realizes what just happened between them.

She drags herself off the table and back onto her two feet. It's a lot harder than she thought it would be. She slips back into her pants and top as Steve sits there watching her. She lets him do that too.

"What happens now." Million-dollar question Steve. She looks at him, really, really looks at him. The golden boy sitting at the edge of the desk naked as the day he was born. He's huge. All bulging biceps and tight abs. Tree trunk thighs and hulking frame. With all of that though he's still just a man. His shoulders are pulled up towards his ears, his arms are tucked against his torso, his head is ducked, and he's looking up at her through his golden lashes. He's huge but he seems so small.

She thinks she's going to ruin him. He's going to let her.

[joonie-beanie]

The Best Kind of Workout

Pairing: Beelzebub x Reader

Word Count: 5,525

Preview: A simple request from Beel turns into a big issue when you lose yourself to your feelings for him.

"I want you. All of you."

Now the real question is...can you fit all of him?

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/22/20 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

It starts out as an innocent request—a text from Beel, asking you to come to the gym and film him. You agree without giving it much thought. You don’t exactly have anything better to occupy your time, and you’d be grateful to get away from Mammon’s constant unannounced appearances in your room, so—you slip on your shoes and exit the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer would have your head knowing that you’re leaving without an escort—after all, not all demons are as nice as them—but Beel had given you a tour of the gym before, and it wasn’t a very far walk.

Within minutes, you’re entering the brightly lit building. It’s not too late—only about 9pm—but not many demons are inside.

Well…it is a Friday, and you suppose that people would rather be out having fun than working out in a gym that smells overwhelmingly like air freshener.

“Y/N,” Beel calls, and you search for the sound—your eyes eventually finding him. He’s stood near a bench press—dressed in a fitted black wife beater, and a pair of baggy sweats. You’re not sure why, but all of the sudden saliva is pooling in your mouth, and you have to remember to swallow. Perhaps it’s because you’ve never seen him in his workout clothes before—his pecs and abs outlined by his top, and his tanned, beefy arms shining with a thin layer of sweat…

“Y/N?” he speaks again, and you blink out of your trance, your eyes finding his. He’s frowning at you, worry in his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah! I’m fine,” you respond, and hurry over to wear he’s standing. You greet him with a smile—still a little frazzled—and Beel immediately returns it. For a second, he lifts his arms—leaning in as if to hug you—but then he pulls back.

“I’m sweaty. You probably don’t want a hug,” he says, as if saying his thoughts aloud. You’re tempted to argue that you’ll take a hug from him whenever—because honestly feeling his large body engulf you—his scent sticking to your clothes, and his chin resting against your head—is a huge guilty pleasure of yours—but the moment is already gone. Beel has stepped away, positioning himself on the seat of the bench press.

Annnnnddd you’re staring again, enraptured by the simplistic charm he exudes solely by being in his element. His thighs are spread, messy orange hair falling into his eyes—and while the sight isn’t scandalous, it’s just…he’s just…very handsome.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his hand reaching forward. He grabs your wrist, tugging you to him. You lose your balance slightly, and your hand lands on his thigh, his free arm steadying you by your hip.

“You’re really red…,” he mumbles, releasing your wrist and raising his palm to press against your forehead. His brows are creased in concern once more—his face close—and you feel yourself getting even warmer.

Oh god, what has gotten into you?? Sure, you’ve always thought Beel was attractive, and perhaps had thought about him before in a light that reached beyond friendship, but…why is this happening to you now?!

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, releasing a deep sigh. You press back, separating yourself from him slightly. “I’m fine, Beel, I promise.”

“Truly?” he asks, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your hip. His fingers press into the fabric of your jeans, not allowing you to fully get away—not until he believes you.

“Truly,” you assure him, smiling. He eyes you considerately, as if debating whether to trust you, but after a moment he smiles as well—his touch falling away.

“Good. Do you think you can record me then? I want to make sure my form is okay, and it’d be helpful to have a video to review later.”

“Sure!” you say, moving to pull your phone from your pocket. In the back of your head, there are alarm bells ringing. You’ve just agreed to record Beelzebub working out—how are you going to handle that, when your thirst for the Avatar of Gluttony is finally starting to catch up with you?!

I just need to play it cool, and stick it out, you think to yourself, getting your video recorder ready as Beel positions himself under the barbell. Your eyes flit to the weights lining the bar—multiple huge discs of metal secured on either side. You can’t tell their weight, but you’re sure that it’s a lot. Probably enough to kill you if you tried to lift it.

“Ready?” he asks, and you nod—hitting the red button on your phone screen.

“You’re good to go,” you respond, and Beel presses upward—lifting the barbell from the rack. He lowers it to his chest, and then pushes it up—his face scrunching in concentration as he works under the challenging weight. You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen—hoping that it will help filter the effects that Beel’s workout is sure to have on you—but of course it doesn’t.

The muscles in his arms flex—thick veins tracking up and down his tan skin—and immediately you’re already reminding yourself that you need to breathe. However, that’s easier said than done—your eyes trailing down his arms and settling on his chest—his pectorals rising and falling with each press of the bar.

Slowly, you move around the equipment, filming Beel from different angles—assuming that’s what he wants. At least despite the heat flooding your limbs, you’re still somewhat aware of the task he’s given you.

As you circle him, your gaze rakes down his torso—soaking in the patch of skin that has been revealed thanks to his top riding up. The prominent V of his hip bones has you biting your lip—your breathing picking up slightly, and your eyes travel lower still. Thanks to his current position, with his back pressed flat against the bench and his sweats not leaving much to imagination—his bulge is quite obvious.

You swallow harshly, freezing in place as your thighs press together. Your pussy throbs—heart thumping against your ribs—and you forget about what you’re meant to be doing. Instead, your mind begins to wander.

If he’s that big flaccid, then he must really be packing it when erect. And suddenly—you’re imaging Beel’s cock inside of you—pushing you to your limits as he buries himself between your wet walls—his touches soft despite his large stature. You don’t feel small all the time, but you’re sure he would make you feel petite. Maybe your stomach would even protrude a bit—

“Oi~”

There’s a hand on your head—fingers running through your hair—and you blink back into reality. Beel’s staring at you, eyebrows raised curiously.

“Did you zone out while filming? I put the bar back and you were still standing there, staring off into space.”

“I…,” you attempt to respond, but your brain feels as if it’s short circuited. You’re hot all over—and it doesn’t help that Beel’s fingers are petting through your hair so fondly.

“I just…you look good working out,” you admit, unable to keep the truth from coming out. (Likely because you’re needy beyond measure right now, and actually want him to take the hint.) Despite your efforts to maintain an innocent friendship with Beelzebub, you want him to touch you more than anything. You thrive on his hugs, and any lingering contact, and you crave more.

“Oh,” he responds, apparently not having expected that response. There’s a bashful look on his face, his eyes darting to the side. His fingers slide from your head—but you chase after his touch—catching his hand midair and pulling it back to you. You cradle it near your chest—selfish, and not wanting to let him go.

“I…,” your words escape you, embarrassment flooding you as you attempt to work up the courage to tell him what you want. At seeing your inner turmoil, Beel lifts his hand to cup your cheek—your fingers still gripping his own. Your heart skips a beat when you meet his gaze—a mixture of worry, and…excitement? held in his eyes—

“I want you,” you say, voice almost a whisper. Suddenly feeling a little bold at the admission of emotions you’d been holding onto for too long, you shift your face in his hold and press your lips against his fingers. Beel immediately turns red, his eyes going wide. His mouth opens, but no words come out, and an ache pangs at your heart.

Maybe you’ve just ruined everything. Oh god, you shouldn’t have opened your mouth, what were you thinking?!

Your hands leave him, foot stepping backwards as you prepare to run away, but luckily—Beel’s brain finally digests your words. Before you can get too far, he grips both of your shoulders, spinning you back to face him. A noise of shock leaves you—but the sound is muffled by his lips as Beel drags you into a kiss.

Despite his gentle nature, the kiss is far from soft—your lips feeling as if they may bruise. You feel his tongue drag against the seal of your lips, and a quiet moan leaves you—your body beginning to melt against him. However, just as you begin to lose yourself in the moment, a whistle in the background throws you back into reality.

Your cheeks are flaming, wide eyes scanning across the floor of the gym as you and Beel mutually part. The few demons present are all looking at you, interest clear on their faces—a look of “don’t let us stop you”.

“C’mon,” Beel speaks up suddenly. He grabs your wrist, swoops down to snatch the bag he had brought with him, and then leads you to the door. A few teasing calls follow you out, and you find yourself pressing closer to the Avatar of Gluttony, needing somewhere to hide.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles after a few seconds—his strides long as he leads you up the street. You struggle to keep up, your eyes darting to his face. From the looks of it, he seems a little upset with himself.

“No, Beel, you don’t need to be sorry,” you try to tell him, but he doesn’t respond. He continues to pull you along—the House of Lamentation coming into sight. However, you know that you need to do something before you arrive home. If he sets foot inside, then you’re sure he’ll bury himself in the fridge and attempt to drown out his current regretful feelings with food.

“Beel,” you say again, louder. You lift your other hand and place it atop his—fingers curling against the side of his palm. At the same time, you begin dragging your feet, forcing him to slow down—and after a few seconds, the two of you come to a stop.

Around you, the street is quiet—illuminated by soft lights overhead. Beelzebub still won’t look at you, and you sigh, gently prying his grip from your wrist. Luckily, he doesn’t put up a fight, and you cradle his palm between your own as you step around to face him.

He still looks shy, and guilt-ridden. He had mindlessly kissed you in a public space, in front of others. And sure, you don’t exactly like feeling so embarrassed, but…your words had been what sparked such a reaction from him.

“I still want you,” you admit quietly. Reaching one of your hands forward, you gently rest your palm on the swell of his chest—your eyes lingering on his lips. “It’s…okay, if you don’t feel the same, but—”

“I do,” he interrupts you, his finger cradling your jaw. He leans down to meet you halfway—and you’re once again reminded just how big of a boy Beel is—pressing to your tippy-toes as you lean into him. He’s a little more cautious this time—his lips melding with yours gently.

You sigh at the sensation—your arms lifting to wrap around Beel’s neck as you intentionally deepen the kiss—urging him on. And he takes the bait, slotting his mouth against your own.

With each passing second, you feel the warmth in your belly expand—snaking all the way to the ends of your fingers and toes. At the same time, Beel’s tongue drags against your own, your shared kisses quickly becoming more passionate. His arms wrap around your waist—pulling you against him, but you still feel too far. So, he momentarily breaks the kiss—leaning down to grab the backs of your thighs. A cry of surprise leaves you as he hefts you up.

Beel really is the size of a small tree.

“Cute,” he laughs against your lips, your legs securing themselves around him. You smack your hand against his chest—embarrassed—but he quickly smothers any rebuttal you could have said with his lips. This time, he picks up where you left off—his tongue pushing into your mouth and stealing your breath away. You moan against him—your breasts flush with his chest, and the Avatar of Gluttony has never been so aware of that fact.

However—

“Mm--!” you gasp as you feel something prominently poke against your womanhood through your jeans. Beel pulls back slightly, his cheeks dusted pink.

“I want you too,” he says, as if it isn’t already obvious. Your heart thrums at his words, and you cup his face in your hands—pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Maybe we should get home, then.”

Beel nods, and your eyes widen as out of nowhere, his horns appear on his head. Without hesitation, the sixth born jumps into the air, and you hold onto him for dear life—even as he shifts you so you’re being held in his arms bridal style.

“Gosh, I forget you can fly,” you breathe, watching his wings flutter behind him. Beel only chuckles, his head ducking down to nuzzle at your neck. You shiver, his tongue lapping over your skin.

“You taste good,” he mumbles, his teeth nipping at your throat, and you fight to keep from whining.

“Beel, just—wait, till we’re inside, please,” you beg, your fingers running through his hair. You swear you hear a small disappointed grunt, but nonetheless Beelzebub listens—his attention refocusing on getting you back to the House of Lamentation.

As you approach, Beel goes not to the front entrance, but instead circles around the large mansion until he finds the window he’s looking for. The glass pane pushes open without trouble, and when you send him a curious glance—his feet touching down on the upper balcony of the room he shares with Belphie—Beel shrugs.

“Belphie keeps a window open in case he ever needs to sneak out.”

Honestly, a part of you is curious to know where the hell Belphie needs to be sneaking off to, but right now, that’s not your priority. No, currently, you want nothing more than to quench the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs.

“C’mere,” you say, grabbing Beel by his collar. You drag him into another messy kiss—your other hand sliding down the hard planes of his stomach until you find what you’re looking for. A guttural sound bubbles up in Beel’s throat as your fingers trace the outline of his cock—the hard member trapped within the confines of his sweats and underwear.

Oh god, he’s huge, you realize, and the thought that you may not be able to fit him (while to some may seem scary) has your already soaking panties becoming even wetter. You want to feel him inside of you—stretching you out and filling you in all the right ways. Even if it hurts, even if tears wet your eyes, and you feel like you may split.

“No fair. I want to touch you too,” he mumbles, his hands dropping to your waist. He grabs the hem of your shirt—forcing you to break the kiss as he tugs the fabric right over your head. You flush red, but Beel is nice enough to even the playing field—dragging his own shirt off of his torso. It drops onto the floor beside your own, and you immediately reach forward—your fingers dragging the length of his abs.

“You really were made in heaven,” you whisper, and Beel’s face goes red at your praise—his dick twitching within its confines. He doesn’t know what to say—so he doesn’t bother responding with words. Instead, he cradles your jaw with one hand—his mouth settling against the opposite side of your neck. He begins biting and sucking at the soft skin, and your knees feel weak. A whine leaves you—one of your hands moving to grip his hair, while the other sinks down to the waistband of his sweats.

Your fingers sneak beneath the layers of fabric, and Beel breathes a shaky, hot breath against you as your digits curl around his length. He’s thick, and hard—your hand too small to encompass his girth—but to Beel, any amount of friction feels like a taste of paradise.

As you slowly stroke him—tracing him from base to tip—the Avatar of Gluttony continues his feast on your neck. His tongue traces along your collarbone, teeth nibbling every so often, and you tug at his hair—a whine caught in your throat.

“Beel,” you pant, and you feel his member twitch in response to your breathless tone. His touch slips from your face—his palm moving downward and splaying against your breast. He frowns when he realizes your bra is hiding the soft mound from his touch, and quickly moves to slide the strap from your shoulder. Once he’s done so, he shoves his hand beneath the padded cup—your nipple slotting between two of his fingers as he gives the flesh a squeeze. You gasp—your hand tightening around his length—and Beel retaliates in turn.

He rolls your nipple between his fingers—his sharp canines scraping against your skin as he gives your shoulder a playful bite. The action sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your womanhood, and you moan, your knees buckling.

Beel is quick to steady you, his arm moving to wrap around your waist. He rears back, glancing down at you—flushed pink and eyes blown out with lust—and knows that he won’t be able to control himself much longer.

“Let’s get somewhere more comfortable,” he says—an edge to his voice. Beelzebub bends down, as if he intends to pick you up once more, but pauses. His purple eyes stray to look at your bottom half—your legs still hugged by a pair of jeans, and he frowns.

“But first, I want to get you out of these.”

His fingers pop open the button on the waistband, the zipper following soon after, and you think your heart may beat right out of your chest.

“I-I can do it!” you say, bending over to push the fabric down your legs. Beel frowns, wanting to have continued undressing you himself, but as you fold yourself over—attempting to step out of your pants—you reveal your back to him. And, in turn, the clips of your bra, which is also still frustratingly in place (well, sort of).

So, the Avatar of Gluttony makes quick work of un-securing your bra—the undergarment quickly sliding down your arms and falling to the floor just as you finish stepping out of your jeans. Your eyes go wide in shock—the hot air between your bodies breezing across all of your freshly revealed skin.

“That’s better,” Beel smiles—a playful laugh sneaking past his lips. He reaches down and tosses you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing. You squeal, one of his hands securing you around your waist. The other rests on the inside of your thighs, but as Beel makes his way to the spiral staircase that leads down to the main area of the room, you feel his fingers brush up against your panties.

You bite your lip, your fingernails pressing small crescents into the skin of his shoulder blades as Beel moves the crotch of your underwear aside. A single digit pushes between your wet walls.

“More,” you breathe almost instantly, your hips wiggling in his hold. Beel listens faithfully, adding a second. He begins to work you open slowly—your juices rushing over his skin and a quiet moan leaving you. Beel curls his fingers as he fucks you—your legs jolting when he finds your sweet spot, and he grunts happily in response.

With each step down the stairs, his cock bounces within its confines, and Beel desperately misses your touch, which had granted him some relief. You’re so small in comparison to him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’s also aware of what you desire. So, he presses a third finger inside of you—your breath hitching as your pussy finally begins to feel the stretch.

“Too much?” he asks, stepping from the staircase. His eyes scan the room—he hadn’t even considered checking to see if Belphie was in—but luckily there’s no sign of his brother.

While Beel isn’t as greedy as Mammon, and doesn’t usually mind sharing, right now he wants you to himself.

“No,” you respond, shaking your head. Your toes curl as his long digits press all the way inside of you. “It feels—ah—really good.”

Beel steps beside his bed, and gently lowers you to the mattress—his fingers never leaving you. His gaze rakes down your body—soaking in the sight of your bare torso, and the needy look on your face as he thrusts his fingers into you once more. Your pussy clenches around him, and the Avatar of Gluttony leans down to kiss you.

“Y/N, I don’t want to hu—”

“I want you. All of you,” you interrupt him, gripping his face between your palms. There’s hesitancy knitting on his forehead, his lips frowning, and you kiss him again—smiling.

“I want your big dick inside of me, Beel.”

“Mm,” he groans at your words, his finger wetly dragging out of your cunt. You mourn the loss, eyes tracking Beel as he finally reaches to his hips, pushing his sweats and underwear down his thighs. His cock springs free, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

As Beel rids himself of his remaining clothes, you sit up—reaching out. Your hands enclose around him—two hands needed to cover the entirety of his girth. Beel releases a shaky sigh at the feeling, his palm resting against your hair as you lean in—lapping your tongue against the bead of pre-cum leaking from his slit.

He watches you like a hawk—his fingers rooting in your hair as you continue to kiss and lick at his length. His member throbs in your hold, and a sense of pride settles in your chest. Gathering spit on your tongue, you drag the wet muscle against a prominent vein on the underside of Beel’s shaft, and you’re rewarded with a tug of your hair.

Beel guides your head away, and you glance up, spotting his flushed cheeks.

“Don’t do that,” he says, clearly enjoying it too much—risking that the fun end too soon—and you smile, your touch disappearing from him. It’s then that Beel steps aside, kneeling against the mattress and positioning himself against the headboard. He beckons you forward—holding out his hand—and you take it after pausing to reach down and discard your panties.

He drags you up to meet him, watching as you swing your leg across his body, settling on the upper parts of his thighs. His dick sits curved against his abs, and you reach down, taking it into your hand and holding it up straight. It nearly reaches your navel…

“Oh fuck,” you say, your walls clenching. You press onto your knees—Beel’s hands finding your waist. He lifts you from the mattress, helping position your body over his pelvis. With your grip on his length, you place the head of his cock at your entrance.

Steeling himself, Beel lowers you down—your walls tight around him as he slowly sinks inside of you. You moan at the feeling—your hands moving to press against his pecs to steady yourself. With his hands still guiding you, Beel urges you even further—pausing when your breath hitches—your pussy clenching around him.

“F-Feels good. So big,” you say, reassuring him that you’re fine before he can even think to ask. Beel can see the ecstasy painted on your face, and it drives him forward. He captures your lips in a heated kiss—his tongue stealing your breath away as it enters your mouth. You moan into him—Beel swallowing your sounds as he forces you to take more of his length.

You’ve never been so full before—inklings of pain letting your brain know that it may not be a good idea to venture so deep so quickly—but you’ve never cared less. In this moment, you want nothing more than to wholly be Beel’s.

And besides—there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of pain. In fact, one may argue that it actually makes it better.

“Fuck--,” you pant, breaking the kiss for a much-needed breath of air. Your fingernails have curled into Beel’s skin—nerves on fire as he continues to slowly inch you down onto him. Heat expands throughout your limbs, fire licking at the inside of your stomach as you waver on the border of pain and pleasure. However, when you glance up at Beel’s face and see his pinched eyebrows, his eyelashes fluttering as your tight pussy grips him so deliciously—you’re reminded that this is exactly what you wanted.

Finally, after what feels like forever—but in reality, is likely less than a minute—your thighs brush the inside of Beel’s hips. The head of his cock pushes up against your cervix as he bottoms out inside of you, and you choke on a cry. Beel’s chest rises and falls rapidly beneath your palms. He’s never felt so good in his life—and despite the fact that he desperately wants to buck up into you, he knows he still needs to give you time to adjust.

So, he reaches a hand around the back of your head and guides your body forward. His mouth connects with the soft mounds of flesh on your chest—tongue flattening against your nipple—and your spine instinctively curves—pressing you closer to him.

Beel continues to alternate between your breasts—sucking, lapping, and nipping at the sensitive skin—until he finally feels your hips move against his. The action is slow, and experimental—as if testing the waters—but despite the fact that you still feel as if you may burst, the pain has died down. Now, all that’s left in its place is an overwhelming need for release.

Beel fights to contain himself as you begin rolling your body against his own—your tight, slick walls hugging his dick and dragging him closer to his demise with each passing second.

“Y/N,” he breathes, a plea caught on his tongue, and you move one of your hands to cup his face.

“You can move,” you tell him with a smile, and immediately Beel is wrapping his arms around you—hugging you to his chest. He scoots away from the headboard, his head now resting on his pillows, and you realize he’s aiming for better leverage. However, before you can think to ask if he wants you to adjust your position, Beel begins fucking up into you. You cry out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you hold onto him for dear life.

“F-Fuck, Beel,” you moan, your breath hot on his skin. Lewd, wet sounds echo through the room with each smack of Beel’s hips, and you feel your legs begin to shake. You’ve never been so full—your walls being stretched out by his cock with each desperate thrust.

His breathing is heavy in your ear—his grip on your torso leaving no wiggle room. You’re subject to whatever Beel is craving—which is apparently a hot and heavy path to release—and you don’t even mind. Each drag of his length between your walls has the coil of pleasure in your gut winding tighter—more and more whines slipping past your lips, and Beel has never heard anything more beautiful.

“Aah--!” you cry when he adjusts his angle ever so slightly, his cock brushing up against your g-spot. Immediately you’re seeing stars, body going limp in Beel’s hold. He feels your arousal dripping down his member and onto his thighs. You’ve gotten so wet for him that he never should have worried about you not being able to take him.

“Y/N,” he groans, unable to help himself. Your pussy is swallowing him so deliciously, he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to last like this. Thankfully, you’re getting close—little chants of “Beel” “close” “please” reaching his ear.

Beel feels your pussy begin to tighten around him—your spine curving in his hold—and he knows this is it.

“Fuck,” you moan, tears appearing in your eyes as the pleasure surging throughout your body suddenly overwhelms you. Your teeth latch onto his shoulder—a desperate attempt at keeping yourself from screaming—and Beel’s rhythm stutters.

“Shit,” he breathes, beginning to lose himself, but you beat him to the finish line. With a muffled cry, you come undone around him—your pussy latching onto Beel’s cock as your orgasm swells into every inch of your body. The increased pressure on his length forces the Avatar of Gluttony to his bliss as well—shallow breaths fanning against your hair as he empties himself inside of you.

For a moment, the two of you are still—simply trying to catch your breath as you begin to come down from your highs. Then, you feel Beel’s softening length slip from inside of you—his cum leaking from your pussy—and your eyes go wide. You look up at him, face bright red, but Beel only smiles.

He presses himself up into a seated position with one arm—the other still intent on not letting you go—and then slots his lips against yours. You melt into the kiss—soft, and tender, and just what you need.

“I really enjoyed that,” you tell him, lifting your hands to cup his face.

“Me too,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. However—

Grrrrrrrrr

You and Beel both pause, looking down at the space between your bodies. Beel moves a hand to settle against his stomach.

“Oh, I guess I haven’t had anything to eat since before I went to the gym.”

“I’m surprised you’re still alive,” you snort, and Beel chuckles—swooping in to kiss you once more before his hands find your waist and lift you off of him.

“Do you want anything from the kitchen?” he asks, scooting off the bed. You watch him as he grabs his sweats from the floor, slipping them back on over his legs. You realize from his question that he fully expects you to spend the remainder of the night here, with him, and your heart flutters.

“I’ll snack on whatever you bring back,” you tell him, and Beel nods. Not bothering to put on a shirt, the Avatar of Gluttony heads to the door. Within seconds, you’re alone in the room, and you move to the edge of the mattress. You press your feet to the ground, gasping when your legs wobble—threatening to give out.

He really fucked me so good that I can barely walk, you think, cheeks pink. Your eyes turn to the spiral staircase. You had been intending to go upstairs and get your clothes, but you don’t want to risk tripping and hurting yourself.

So, instead you cautiously make your way to Beel’s dresser. You dig out a long t-shirt, and then head into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you return to the main room—Beel’s clean shirt covering your torso.

You’ve just replanted yourself on his bed when the door clicks open. Your gaze turns up, expecting to see Beel standing there with a mountain of food in his arms, but instead you find…Belphegor.

He’s frowning at you, suspicion in his gaze. His eyes rake around the room, pupils narrowed.

“You’re wearing Beel’s shirt,” he finally says.

“My clothes were dirty,” you counter. Belphie cocks an eyebrow—a grin tugging at his lips.

“Okay. Then explain the hickies on your neck, and why the room currently reeks of sex.”

At that…you can only turn red, and Belphegor sighs. He opens his mouth, as if to complain, but then pauses. His eyes widen, gaze raking over you once more.

“…you fit him?”

And now, you really think you might die of embarrassment.

[deniigi]

To carry on the MCU Peter anon: would you ever write a multiverse / blend where your Peter meets a more MCU Peter (actual MCU Peter not the fanon created one)? And/or initimable Peter meeting another version you’ve created?

Also, would you ever write a MJ (my beloved) POV fic?

Hey boo

So Question 1: I did a little piece with a MCU/Inimitable crossover here

It’s not quite the same, since it’s from the pov of MCU Peter.

The idea of young Inimitable Peter meeting someone who he could have so easily been if he’d not gotten involved with Team Red and had instead stuck closer to Stark would be an interesting thought, I must say. Not so interesting that I’d write it, but I’d def have half a drink and then a muse on the idea and how it would unfold.

For MJ, I have written some stuff from her POV! ( See just roll with it from the Dumpster Fires Verse)

I also wrote a terrifying piece a long ass time about about some non-NYC vigilantes trying to step in and overthrow the vigilante/Superpeople order of things by trying to goad Peter, Matt, Wade, etc into a fight. MJ narrates it and it’s sort of dark so I’m putting it under the cut here.

trigger warnings for violence (like Netflix DD and Punisher levels), violence against minors at school, and some pretty heavy injuries.

-------

“Michelle?” a voice she’d never heard in her life rasped into the classroom door. The smell of iron and smoke and god, blood—that was blood she was smelling—it was all suffocating.

“Michelle, honey, c’mon, sweetheart. We ain’t got time for being scared right now,” the voice said.

She’d never thought that she’d have to consider the fact that those were boots coming towards her, not sneakers, not shoes.

The butt of a rifle swung down into her view. Joined the boots right in front of her. Bones popped as the Punisher knelt down.

She knew him by the skull on his vest.

She knew him as a monster. Not a hero.

He held out a hand to her.

“I got you, baby girl,” he promised, “Ain’t no one gonna touch you.”

His hands were smeared in some kind of grease. Gun oil? Soot? It didn’t matter. He stayed crouching low. He didn’t wear a mask.

His nose was kind of crooked. And his eyes were deep set.

They were brown.

He said nothing, just held out his big, greasy hand.

She took it.

 --

 The Punisher’s grip was calloused and firm and he kept her behind him at all times. He was even bigger than she’d ever imagined; bigger than Mr. Murdock. Bigger than her dad. Maybe the around the same size and build as Wade.

He didn’t explain things; he used his hands to talk.

Stay behind me, said the press of his rough palm. Don’t let go, stay behind me.

Out front, the fingers said later, now curled over the tops of her own. Walk, walk fast. Out front.

Stay behind.

Out font.

Down.

He made her kneel with him and peeled off his vest. He didn’t give her a choice.

It was heavy. So heavy. He strapped it onto her as tight as it would go.

“Home stretch, darlin’,” he finally said with words, the noise of bullets and panic around them seemed quieter with him talking. She found that she didn’t want to leave him. “You go when I say, alright? You go when I say and you don’t look back, alright?”

No.

No, he would die if she left. He needed to wear the vest.

“Look at me, Michelle.” She did, through the tears. “You don’t look back.”

She nodded.

 --

 He said go.

She didn’t look back.

Not until Mr. Murdock was pulling her away, shouting at the top of his voice for an ambulance. She’d never heard that gravel in his tone before.

“Michelle, look at me,” Mr. Murdock told her, grabbing her cheeks and pulling her gaze away from the classroom where the Punisher was dying.

“Look at me, honey, look.”

There wasn’t much to look at, she couldn’t see his eyes through his mask.

“Are you hurt? Where are you hurt? Show me where you’re hurt.”

It didn’t matter, she couldn’t feel it anymore. The Punisher was dying in there, he needed his vest.

“Frank’s fine,” Mr. Murdock told her. He pulled her head back to face him, but he wasn’t looking at her at all. It was like he was looking down at the space between them. One of her hands felt warm on top, cold at the fingers. It didn’t want to cooperate as she pulled at the vest. “He’s fine, he’s gonna be fine. Fuck. Fuck. Put your arms around my neck, honey, c’mon. There you go, good girl. Alright, up you go. No, one more time. There you go, I got you. It’s okay, I got you.”

Mr. Murdock was stronger than he looked and he didn’t seem to mind that the vest was digging into his chest. His voice didn’t seem as loud, even though her head was right next to his throat.

She couldn’t tell if he was talking to her anymore.

 --

 She woke up.

There was white and blue and gray everywhere.

Her mom was burgundy. Her sweater was. Then she was tears, tears pouring out of her eyes, down over her lips. Her eyes weren’t burgundy, they were neon. Neon pink.

 --

 Her mom held her hand while the doctors explained to her that she’d have a lot of scarring, but she would be okay. She’d need some physical therapy to make the wrist do what it was supposed to again, but the bullet hadn’t caused irreparable damage.

The same for the wound in her ankle.

She’d be okay.

So why did she want to cry so bad?

 --

 She remembered why.

 --

 Peter was okay. He was in the room one over, attached to a lot of machines, but he was okay. His face wasn’t as clean as hers, the doctors and nurses hadn’t had the same kind of time to wash him down, they’d been busy trying to save his life.

His aunt had stepped out to go get things to wash his face for him. She was still wearing her scrubs. She worked in the ICU upstairs.

 --

 Ned was okay, he had a row of stitches from the bump in his wrist to his elbow. He told her tiredly that once he turned eighteen, he’d get a tattoo to cover the mark. Maybe laces, like sneaker, he told her.

Maybe stitches again, to remind himself what he’d almost lost.

 --

 Flash was okay. Abe was okay. Melanie and Gabriella were okay.

They were all okay.

Including the Punisher.

 --

 He came to see her in the hospital, he’d swiped a staff ID to do it. She thought that that was maybe overkill, but this was the man who’d offered his life for hers.

He was startled and went wide-eyed and stiff when she threw her arms around his broad chest and started crying. But he loosened up and told her that she shouldn’t be putting weight on her ankle. He let her hug him sitting on the bed instead.

He didn’t say things were okay like the others did. He grabbed her chin and shook it a little and said, “You’re fucking brave, girl. You’re so fucking brave.”

She didn’t believe him.

She’d just gone and hadn’t looked back.

“Sweetheart, there are times when you think, and times when you move. And both of them are different kinds of bravery,” he told her.

Different kinds of bravery.

“Do you mean courage?” she asked him.

He cocked his head. He had stitches of his own at the top of his cheekbone. Bruises from his temple to his chin.

“No, courage, that’s something else,” he said, “I’m talking about bravery.”

She didn’t understand. He said that he didn’t have a better way of explaining it. He smoothed her hair back and said that he was glad that she was alive and that she was going to get better.

He’d been the one who’d carried Peter out. He’d had to send her out first because he couldn’t carry both of them.

Mr. Murdock’s voice was raw and hoarse because he’d come running from the fire in the classroom next door and he’d been trying to find Peter. He was the only one who could hear Frank Castle through the fire and the bullets and the creak of the burning building. And Mr. Castle had told him that he couldn’t take both Peter and Michelle.

She remembered now.

Mr. Castle had been talking to himself the whole time they’d been running and hiding through that building. He’d been talking to himself, but he’d really been talking to Mr. Murdock who was trying to find a way in and a way out that wouldn’t get him killed.

There hadn’t been one, there were too many guns. The second she’d started running, Frank Castle had whistled, hard and loud and piercing and all the guns had turned on him.

She didn’t look back.

She thought that he hadn’t either.

“Thank you for saving us,” she told him.

He shook his head.

“Red’s your man, he called me screaming. Man never calls nobody in that tone of voice. You’d have thought y’all were his babies dying in there.”

Okay.

Okay, so was Mr. Murdock okay?

“Nah, girl. I don’t think he is. But I think he’ll get there.”

 --

 Mr. Murdock pretended like he was okay, but the way he wrapped his arms around both Michelle and Peter when they came to his office said that he was very much not. It wasn’t an awkward hug, even though there were two of them.

It was firm.

It was tight.

And Peter started crying and it was hard, really really hard not to join him.

Mr. Murdock let them go and pressed his forehead to Peter’s and said nothing. He just held Peter’s shoulder with one hand and smoothed a hand through his hair with the other. Peter wasn’t making words so much as he was making distressed sounds, but Matt understood him.

“He’s alright, Pete,” he said. “He’s alright.”

Who?

 --

 Wade was fine, somehow. There wasn’t a bullet hole in him. There wasn’t a scratch on him, he claimed, trying to smile and make Peter stop sobbing his heart out.

Matt told him that he wasn’t fucking helping and to just be fucking honest for once in his goddamn life.

Matt’s hands shook a little at his sides. His cuticles were still stained gray from the soot.

Wade looked from him to Peter a little helplessly and then at Michelle and he sobered. He held out an arm for her to come closer.

He was big, too. His ribs felt different from Mr. Castle’s.

“Where’s Ned?” he asked, pressing a hand on the back of Peter’s head to encourage him to direct his upset into his chest.

Ned was at home. Ned’s mom and dad were too upset to let him out of their sight for now.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Wade said. He didn’t hug her as tight as Matt had, he more laid a heavy arm across her shoulders and pulled a bit.

 --

 They weren’t allowed to go back to school. The whole campus was closed, there’d been significant damage to the south side and there were too many photos and crime scenes that needed to be documented.

Peter’s wounds were already mostly healed, while hers ached and burned with every movement.

He apologized for not getting to the room she’d been in faster.

That was some dumbass shit, that was.

“Who did it?” she asked him.

Peter set his jaw.

“We don’t know. Wade and Mr. Castle said they’re finding out. They aren’t letting me or Matt in on it.”

What did that mean?

“I think it means that it’s something bigger than us.”

And what did that mean?

“Uh, maybe bigger isn’t the right word. Lower.”

Lower. Like?

“Someone underground. Deeper in than me and Double D. We’re—we’re mostly surface level. Wade and Mr. Castle, they’re deep under there.”

“Were they trying to kill you, Peter?” she asked him.

He took a long shaky breath.

“I really hope not.”

 ---

 They weren’t trying to kill Peter, Mr. Murdock eventually told them, having had them come to his home for this news. He had them sit on his faux leather couch as he said this.

He was trying to say something without words, Michelle thought.

She thought she was reading it right.

It was personal. This was personal.

“Were they trying to kill you, Matt?” she asked. He shook his head.

No.

They weren’t trying to kill anyone, they’d been trying to draw them out. As many of them as possible.

“They’re taking stock of us,” Matt said to his fists. His knuckles never seemed to heal. “Making lists. They knew a school would bring everyone out and we fell for it like fucking chumps.”

What did that mean?

“Means there’s something big brewing, and I want nothing to do with it.”

That’s not what his knuckles said.

“Peter,” Matt said, “Whoever they are, they’re going to target you. You’re young, that makes you an easy mark. Do not engage, do you understand?”

Peter understood.

 ---

 Peter was hurt. He was hurt every day over the next few weeks. He had bullet wounds and knife wounds and it got to the point where, even after school reopened, he didn’t come back. It wasn’t suspicious, a lot of kids didn’t. Their parents were still terrified, maybe looking into other academies.

Peter was just sleeping. He had to sleep to heal and he had to heal because the second he set foot out the door there was someone there waiting for him and he couldn’t engage. He just had to take it. Suit or no suit.

MJ would have hit back by now, she was amazed that he hadn’t.

“The second I hit back, they’ll take that as permission,” Peter told her quietly at his desk in his room. May had bandaged his arm for him. She wasn’t concerned about school, she didn’t want Peter to even leave the house.

“Permission to do what?” she asked.

“To engage,” Peter said.

What did that mean, though?

“They’ll kill me.”

He couldn’t know that. He couldn’t—

“They don’t care who I am. It’ll be a message. As soon as I hit back, that makes whatever happens next fair game, so I can’t do anything.”

“Can’t Stark help you?” she asked. He sighed and looked at his bandaged wrist.

“If it gets any worse, he and May said I’ll stay with him for a while. But they’ll just move onto the next guy, and then the next guy, until someone engages. We can’t avoid them forever.”

‘We,’ Peter said. That meant that this was beyond him. This was everyone on that list those guys had shot her, stabbed Ned, scared everyone to make. The list that had set their school on fire.

 ---

It got worse.

Peter didn’t come to school.

He couldn’t breathe very well. He slept even more, but not at home. He slept at Stark Tower, where Tony Stark could guard him, because no one else could at the minute.

 ---

 It got worse because they started picking on Matt.

Matt as Mr. Murdock most certainly would not have engaged, but Matt as Matt was struggling. He was very obviously struggling.

Just sit back and take it, was what he had to do. Unlike Peter, who slept and had somewhere to go when things got too bad, Matt didn’t heal and Matt didn’t have anyone to lean on.

He stopped showing up to work.

Neither Foggy or Karen said anything about it. They carried on with the cases and the work and the filing as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing happened. As if they weren’t both suffocating, trying to carry their friend’s pain with their own.

Michelle went to see him and Foggy told her to be as quiet as she could be.

He slept with a broken arm laid up on his chest. He shivered in his sleep. His knuckles weren’t bruised, but his neck was and he didn’t acknowledge anyone who spoke to him.

There was a woman there with him, she was his sister, MJ remembered her. Elektra was watching him with silent, stoic fury in her eyes. It showed nowhere else on her.

“She’s protecting him,” Foggy explained as he made them all tea. “Well, maybe not protecting, but guarding him so he feels like he can sleep.”

There wasn’t anything to say to that, not when Spiderman and Daredevil could only rest in unconsciousness.

“Why are they doing this?” she asked him. Foggy sighed and set the kettle down.

“Because they’re cruel and they’re jealous and they think that this will get them respect,” he said.

Respect.

Psh.

All it did was make her mad.

“If you show them that you’re angry, Michelle, that’s as good as engaging. We can’t let them know that they’re getting to any of us.”

This was bullshit.

 ---

 Bullshit because Matt went to get groceries and didn’t come home and Wade had to go find him. They wouldn’t let Michelle see him, but she heard his sister screaming. She screamed at anyone who touched him, swore that she’d put the lights out of the next person who tried.

Foggy didn’t stop her.

Matt didn’t say anything.

He didn’t come to work and Foggy kept his office door closed.

Karen told Michelle that Elektra had taken Matt somewhere with her, where he would be safe. He wasn’t in Hell’s Kitchen. Elektra wouldn’t say where they’d gone, but she’d sent Foggy pictures so that he knew Matt was safe.

 ---

 It was bullshit because they were too scared to fuck with Wade or Castle, so instead they attacked Hawkeye the younger and Michelle heard through Wade that Hawkguy had nearly exploded in his anger. He couldn’t do anything, of course he couldn’t, that was how this game worked.

But he’d swapped his easy-going persona for the one he used when he worked with the Black Widow.

Wade said it was eerie to see him so quiet and focused. Locked onto his target.

The people trying to pick a fight, well, they were scared of Hawkeye.

 ---

 Not for long. They went in on both of Hawkeyes at the same time and soon Hawkeye the elder reached breaking point and called in the Widow so that he and his partner could get two minutes of peace. Just two.

 ---

 It was interesting how the second the Widow got involved, everything went topsy turvy.

Michelle had passed by the place where Wade had told her the Widow was standing guard and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Then she realized that whoever these guys were, they were really, really scared of the Widow.

Not so high and mighty now, huh, boys?

They abandoned the Hawkeyes and went after Jessica Jones.

 ---

 It went on and on like this for two, three, maybe even four weeks. People took as much as they could. They picked themselves up. Some limped into the offices of Nelson, Murdock and Page. Some limped, watched carefully by people, in the street.

They were stopped at all hours by guys in plain clothes who struck out without warning. Threw fists. Feet. Spat on people. And instead of fighting back, local bodies threw them off and ran away. Avoided confrontation. Put walls and doors and fences between themselves and the others as much as they could.

It was, in a way, amazing.

The level of restraint was super human.

 ---

 Then the new kids got cocky and shoved the Winter Soldier.

They were in for a lesson.

Michelle saw the conflict on the news. Five guys throwing themselves at Bucky Barnes, who was trying to buy a bottle of whiskey in peace.

He ignored them, counted out exact change.

He walked right through their group on the way out the door and they parted around him, then followed him out of the convenience store.

Camera phone footage showed him walking home, being heckled by these creeps. A few blocks, presumably, from his home he stopped walking and the gang of people drew in close around him.

And then they all leapt back.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t taking their shit, he’d apparently decided. Loud enough to be heard from the cameraman’s place across the street, he shouted, “Y’all have one more chance to get the fuck out of my way.”

Let no one say he didn’t warn them.

They went down hard and they went down fast and they all went down within a minute of each other.

Bucky Barnes held a guy by his throat and told them to call their motherfucking leader, he wanted to have a chat.

It was the beginning of the end.

 ---

 Do not engage went right out the window and MJ woke up to her phone sending her six thousand alerts not to take such-and-such road or to approach such-and-such area.

The news showed her Peter slamming his fist into a man’s face like he was born to do it.

The Man in the Mask was out in broad daylight, stalking towards those people who were suddenly trying to escape him. He picked them up and dropped them without so much as breaking the rhythm of his pace.

Ironman beat the shit out of twelve people in the company courtyard.

Hawkeye had switched his bow for a rifle.

The general advice from all city personnel was to stay the fuck inside.

This was war.

 ---

 And then it was over.

And everything was cleaned up and bodies were carted off if they were found.

Peter arrived to school.

Matt reappeared in his office.

They carried on like nothing had happened. But there was something about the aftermath of silence that made the day of brutality so much more violent.

Neither of them were smiling. They were cold, thawing slowly.

Michelle thought of all the things they weren’t saying.

She thought she heard their combined bodies whisper, this is my city. This is our city. Get with it or go the fuck home.

She didn’t know if it made her feel better, but it certainly made her feel safe.

 --------

[valwrite]

the bella-vista avenue book club; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: if only she’d double checked her Amazon shopping cart, Y/N L/N wouldn’t find herself torn between what book to give her hot neighbor next.

warnings: fluff, cheesiness, a slither of smut, mentions of a car accident, cooper is a basic dog name, i know but stfu about it.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 6455.

author’s note: this fic took way too long to write, bye. no but for real, i’ve been back in uni for one month and so far i’ve: done way too many assignments; had more breakdowns than a disney child star; had a covid scare; and spontaneously dyed my hair dark blue/green at 4am instead of finishing an essay. we’re doing well, folks :)

It took exactly twenty one days for the loneliness to kick in.

On the day the lockdown was first announced, Y/N L/N felt the most confusing sentiment of relief and fear blended together. She'd spent just about the whole day in the meeting from Hell, during which three people had stormed out of after countless shouting matches had broken out and her boss had blatantly fired one of the guys from her department, right in front of everyone. When she did eventually get out of said meeting- a whole two hours later than her usual work days ended -, she was struggling with an impending migraine, threatening to blur her eyesight the whole drive home. She arrived home safely that evening, by the force of some miracle, only to find countless texts from relatives and friends alike, detailing the quarantine announcement and all the rules that came with it. Though concerned over the state of the world battling against the rapidly spreading virus, Y/N was just glad there would be no meetings for a while.

Quarantine was exciting at first. In the normal day-to-day life she lead, Y/N often found herself falling short on time to do things she truly enjoyed. There was just always one more task needing done at work; one more errand to complete; one more mile to run. By the time she stepped into her home come the end of the day, her eyelids were always battling to stay opened. So, it was very fair to say that the sudden infinite amount of free time had her feeling rather excited.

Day two and she'd already set herself a list of goals to spend all this time on, a chance to do all the things her schedule got in the way of. Of course, with the situation at hand, all these goals were modified to be achievable from within the confines of her home. The first goal she achieved was knitting a sweater. Granted, it was a mess she'd ended up trying to turn into a dog sweater only to watch as her fur-baby, Cooper, chewed it into rags.

There was no goal on the list to be good at all those goals.

In the following weeks, Y/N found herself trying her hand at pottery - she both made and broke a mug -, baking - the first cake burned but the second she made was actually pretty edible -, guitar playing - it really was just like riding a bike: one never really forgets how to do it - and many other hobbies. In between finding her artistic calling in life, it seemed family quiz nights became the norm.

But twenty one days, that's when she finally took notice of just how lonely living had become for her. A full twenty one days of not having made eye contact with anyone outside of a screen or who happened to not own four paws and a tail.

The loneliness wasn't unique to her, she was very aware. But she was stuck quarantining in a house all by herself, hours away from any of her family and she knew it was going to be a fair while before she even spoke with someone face to face. Much longer than most people. She was still at the point where even bringing up the thought of going to the store- with a trusted mask on, of course - would send her mother into a spiral of worse case scenarios and her father would be threatening to call her doctor.

As neurotic as the two could be about her health, Y/N completely understood their reactions. Things had never really been the same since her accident, even with the years gone by.

She was sat on her sofa- well, actually, sat on her floor, with her back against the sofa - when the door bell rang. She was up at lighting speed, bounding her way over to the front of the house before peaking a look through the peep hole and finding no one there. Unfazed by this, she unlocked the door and pulled it open to unveil a package at her doorstep, the ever familiar Amazon logo splashed across it. In the past few weeks, the delivery service and her bank account had become well acquainted, with most of her new found hobbies being aided by it.

In a matter of seconds, she'd picked up the package, shut the door and made her way into her kitchen, a drawer being pulled open as she dug through it for a pair of scissors. The package was ripped up and there she found a sight she wasn't awaiting, her eyes widening ever so slightly and a "Huh." noise escaping her.

There, laying on the remaining cardboard package, sat a hardback copy of A Tale Of Two Cities. And right next to it sat an identical copy, both of them staring up at Y/N.

“This can't be right, right?” She proposed the question down at Cooper, who'd at some point sauntered in to the kitchen and sat down at her feet, his tail wagging lazily upon being spoken to.

Sure enough, when she checked her receipt online, there was only one copy on the list. She wondered if it was perhaps a “buy one, get one free” kind of deal but quickly found no evidence to back up her hypothesis.

Thinking of what the right thing to do would be, Y/N on instinct began to investigate how she could possibly return the additional book they'd sent to her. As she came to the realization that it would entail her having to return both books and, then, waiting once again for a copy to be sent to her, she changed her mind instantly. A few other solutions came to mind: she could mail it to her sister-in-law, she was just as much of a book worm as Y/N; or she could keep it until the next time she needs a birthday present for someone; or she could just keep both of the copies, even if it felt a little wasteful.

It was only later on that very evening, as Y/N chopped away at some onions and was struggling to contain her tears- she had a spoon in her mouth because her mother swore it stopped you from crying, spoiler: it did not -, that the perfect idea struck.

In the corner of her eye she spotted him, strolling about his own kitchen. He hadn't lived next door for very long, he'd only moved in at the very start of the year, if she remembered correctly. And though they had never really spoken or interacted- polite waves and stiff smiles when spotting one another either leaving or arriving home wasn't exactly very conversational after all-, Y/N couldn't help but decide he was going to be the honorary recipient of the book. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Well, he could use the book to keep his fireplace alight, but Y/N was more eager to just think optimistically about it.

With her mind firmly made up, she neatly wrapped the book in some stray wrapping paper she'd found in her junk drawer and tied a neat, makeshift bow around it. His doorstep was only a couple feet from her own and it wasn't long till she was stood right in front of it, finger hovering over the doorbell as she wrestled with the thought off handing the present directly to him. She recalled one night, where her bedroom curtains had been wide open to let in the moonlight, and he'd walked past his own bedroom window, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The image of water dripping down those defined abs made her mind up and she placed the wrapped book next to his door, the little note she'd written taped on to it carefully.

Happy housewarming! I hope you're taking care during these trying time! - Y/N, your neighbor from door 27. p.s. Cooper (the German Shepherd) says sorry for peeing in your flowers :(

A few days later, as Y/N and Cooper arrived home from their daily walk, a mysterious package sat on the doorstep. What made it mysterious was the fact it wasn't from Amazon, nor from her local grocery store either. Cooper possessed no hesitation and dashed over to investigate, his tail beginning to wag as Y/N approached the front door.

“What is it, Coops?” She crouched down, her hand rubbing over the top of his head as his tongue dangled out of his mouth. There was a small piece of paper stuck on the package and, at first, she wondered if perhaps her attempt at a kind gesture had backfired and the hot neighbor had just dropped it back off. Then, she read the note. “Housewarming? Took you a while. This Dickens guy's good, hope he finally get's some popularity soon. - Daveed, your neighbor from door 28.” A smile crept onto her face as she learnt his name. It felt nice on her lips. His calligraphy skills only made the name look prettier. “P.S. check this book out, author is a real hidden gem. P.S.S. tell Cooper it's chill, I got my revenge and peed in his flowers.”

It was there on her doorstep, with a thin layer of sweat decorating her face and a tired out dog at her feet, that Y/N upgraded Daveed from hot neighbor to hot and funny neighbor.

It was almost like an otherworldly sign when Y/N stumbled over a chew toy the next day, her whole body slamming right into her bookcase and out from it fell a book, smacking her right on her head to add yet another bruise on to her list. Her mother had always joked that she bruised easier than a peach, partially on account of her incapability to walk five paces without stumbling over air or slipping on dry ground.

She let out a groan, her hand rubbing at the spot the book hit her and she reached down to grab her attacker- which lay face down - off of the floor. The cover turned out to be that of The Great Gatsby and the sudden urge to wrap it up, attach a note and drop it over at Daveed's doorstep became overwhelming. It still felt so personal to know his name.

Was she seriously about to use a book as an excuse to try catch a glimpse of her hot neighbor, who just yesterday was claiming to have peed on her flowers? Yes, yes she was. Because, after all, he was hot. And if society had taught her anything, it was that hot people were excused of everything. Okay, perhaps she was exaggerating just a little bit but it all added up to the same thing: Daveed was hot and she was thirsty.

Maybe quarantine really was beginning to have an effect on her.

A few hours later, Y/N was comfortably snuggled under her blankets in bed, the room illuminated by nothing but her television screen and the streetlights outside. A door opened somewhere, her anxious brain questioning if it was one of her own doors but the sudden laughter she could hear changed her train of thought quickly.

Oh my god, his laugh was music to her ears. And, oh my god, she'd actually made him laugh.

She lay back, wondering which part of her note had made Daveed laugh as consciousness slowly slipped away from her. One house away, her hot and funny neighbor was near mirroring her position in his own bed, his head replaying the note he'd received from the cute girl next door.

Not too sure about this author, he seems to have a fetish for big feet! I'm beginning to question exactly what kind of weird foot erotica you read, Daveed from door 28! -Y/N, your foot hating neighbor. P.S. this guy definitely needs more clout, can't you just picture his writing being used to teach the younger generations? P.S.S. Cooper isn't happy about you peeing in his flowers but he is happy about the treats.

Two days later, in the morning, Y/N was sat at her kitchen island. Her computer lay open in front of her, untouched for the past half hour as she flipped through the pages of her book and sipped away at the smoothie she'd blended up for herself. Cooper lay sound asleep under her seat, the occasional snore coming from the pup. It was those moments in her quarantine that she enjoyed most, just pure tranquility. It took her mind off of the loneliness.

A feeling overcame her, as the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. It was almost like she could feel someone's eyes on her. She tore her own eyes away from the printed text and checked her surroundings vaguely. It was only when she looked straight ahead, out of the window that she spotted the intrusive stare of his.

They were sat in near parallel, him also sat at his kitchen island with a computer opened, only he had a mug of coffee instead of a smoothie. When their eyes made contact, he grinned at her, waving the book in his hand before pointing at the cover. The Great Gatsby.

He really was reading the book she'd sent over.

Mirroring his actions, she lifted up her own book, the one he'd sent over all those days ago. The Hobbit.

It was short, it was sweet and it was the longest they had ever interacted off paper. Even without verbal communication, so much was said between them both in that small instance. It was a sign that these little book deliveries were appreciated, they both cared enough to read whatever the other sent over.

Maybe it was time to consider Daveed her hot, funny and caring neighbor.

The book exchanges continued onward for weeks.

Daveed sent over a collection of fairy tales by the Grimm brothers, his attached note read: Thanks for putting me onto Fitzgerald, gonna have to see if the school board will let me teach his work in my lectures. Think they might be against it, what ya think? In the meantime, check these indie short stories out. Think Cooper will resonate with the wolf in the Red Ridding Hood story. -Daveed, your literature professor neighbor. P.S. Noticed the Raptors jersey on your washing line, tell your boyfriend the Warrior in me is unimpressed.

To which Y/N replied to with, alongside a copy of Twilight,: Cooper loved the Red Ridding Hood story, but he says you remind him of the grandmother in it. Speaking of wolves, check out this classic example of American literature, the lack of emotions this author puts into her writing is truly astounding. -Y/N, the Raptor next door. P.S. The Raptors jersey is mine, but I'll applaud you for smoothly trying to find out if I have a boyfriend. For the record, I do. He's tall, dark haired and lives in my imagination. P.S.S. Could you ask your girlfriend if she knows any good foundations? I'm thinking of changing mine.

He took less than a day to fire back with a copy of 50 Shades Of Grey: If Cooper is the wolf, and I'm the grandmother, would that make you the girl? I think the romance in this book is quite poignant, it really values the emotional over the physical. - Daveed, your grandmother neighbor. P.S. Not sure about my girlfriend's foundation, seeing as she doesn't exist, but I use L'Oreal. Very creamy, or whatever it is foundation is meant to be like. P.S.S. You looked cute in your paint splattered t-shirt the other day.

Not even an hour later, he opened his door to find a hardback of the Holy Bible and the following: I went into that book expecting a rush of happiness and sweetness, but ended up feeling scared and turned on in the most confusing way. I worry about your taste, Daveed, and that is why I'm recommending this book to you. This will cleanse you of all you've done wrong, my friend. -Y/N, your concerned neighbor. P.S. I'm not the girl, I'm the huntsman. P.S.S. Your dog is so cute, Cooper wants her/his number.

It took 45 days of lockdown for Y/N to finally venture out to her local grocers, tired of ordering food online and desperate for some human contact which didn't have to be separated by a great distance and united by a glass screen and a stable internet connection. She'd felt wrong; out of place; strange the whole time she'd been wandering up and down the aisles of the shop, her mask secured on her face and a near full basket hanging on her arm.

The fact Cooper was at home, holding down the fort for the time being gave her a little comfort.

Despite paying through self-service, and using a contactless card payment, her father's voice was ringing in her ears, scolding her for even taking the risk of stepping outdoors. Naturally, she appreciated his caring tendencies but she liked to consider herself old enough and smart enough to manage her own health problems.

With four bags stacked awkwardly in her arms, she took a few steps away from her car, attempting to peak over her shopping to see just where exactly the gate to her garden was. She could very faintly hear Cooper's excited whining, his paws scratching against the metal gate.

It was the sound of a voice, a very distinct voice, calling out her name that halted her movement and turned her head.

“Let me,” He, Daveed from door 28, paused, his hand clutching at his heaving chest. As her eyes drifted over him briefly, she took note of the trainers, the sweaty running shorts and, most of all, his bare chest, perfectly lined abs scattered along him. “get that for you.”

Before Y/N could so much as protest, Daveed had already snatched all four bags from her arms and was stood holding the gate open for her, a stupidly handsome smile decorating him. Her mask was still firmly held up but she smiled beneath it and done her best to share her gratitude with him.

“You don't need to do that.” Despite her words, she never attempted to take her bags back from him, instead cautiously slipping her way past him into her open garden. Cooper launched his paws up onto her, a bark of excitement escaping him before he licked at her arm and redirected his attention to Daveed. Cooper was still fairly young, not even a year old yet, but he was a fierce dog when it came to guarding his owner from any stranger. So, for Y/N to turn back and find him happily circling Daveed's legs, his favorite toy in his mouth and his tail wagging at lighting speed, it was purely a shock to her system.

And the clearest sign she'd ever seen that Daveed, whether he was a complete stranger to her or not, could be trusted.

“Where should I leave these?” He ignored her protest, effortlessly walking up the path of her garden with the heavy bags secure in his hands. Having him around her, all sweaty and heavy breathing and half dressed was more of a health hazard than her trip to the shops. Y/N began to wonder if it was legal to look so good.

“Uh, just,” She fished through her purse for her door key, avoiding the temptation to peak at his abs again. “on the table over there, if you don't mind.” She nodded her head in the direction of the small table sat out on her front porch and, within a couple seconds, she felt as Daveed brushed past her, so close she swore she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

He done exactly as she requested and lay the bags gently to rest on the table, the muscles in his arms flexing. Y/N had to wonder if this was a purposeful action, a way to tempt and seduce her, as if he needed to try much to succeed at that. She'd more or less been whipped for him the second he delivered his first book to her.

“Are you looking after yourself?” Her parents had asked this every time they spoke on the phone - which was basically a daily occasion - but hearing it from Daveed felt refreshing, as though she'd never heard the words before; as though she'd never been spoken to with such tenderness. She let her eyes meet his face, a dangerous choice when she found a dazzling smile reflected back at her.

“I am.” Was it possible for a smile to be brighter than the sun? “Are you?”

“Yeah. Even started eating kale.” Daveed chuckled and she followed suit, because his laugh was infectious and she would willingly let it consume her. “It tastes like shit, don't get me wrong, but it's gotta count for something, right?”

“Oh, totally, kale-boy.”

“Excuse me, I'd prefer if you called me by what I really am: a kale-man.”

The mask slid down the bridge of her nose as she smiled wider than the Cheshire cat. In her mind, she cursed her heart-eyes behavior but it did nothing to halt it, Daveed simply put her on edge in the best way.

“It was nice to finally hear your voice, it's cuter than I thought.” She wondered if he was aware of the effect he was having on her, if each word and every gesture of his was carefully calculated to make her weak in the knees. “I'll save you from my sweaty smell and head off now, I can hear the shower calling my name.”

The last thing, yet also the best thing, Y/N needed to be envisioning was a water soaked Daveed. “I didn't want to say anything but, yeah, you smell worse than Cooper's breath.”

“There's the attitude from all your notes!” Daveed had at some point stepped closer to her, to the point where it was likely a big enough inhalation of a breath would have their chests touching. He was so tall, and muscular. “I'll see you around, Y/N from door 27.”

For two minutes she stood there, mask slapped across her face and her breath caught in her throat, nothing but the raw memory of his body so close and, yet, so far away from her own. She made her way indoors, finally, in a zombiefied state. Cooper trailed happily behind her through the house and all the way into the kitchen and, like the good pup he was being raised to be, he helped put away a few of the groceries, by greedily grabbing at the packet of dog treats when something else in the bag caught Y/N's attention.

“Thank you for the bible, now may I rebut with a copy of the Torah? The characters might seem similar but I swear it's different. Friend? Was that you officially friendzoning me, Y/N? And to think I was willing to look past the fact you're a raptor.” She mumbled allowed without even noticing, her eyes drifting across the note in her hand. When Daveed had snuck this into her shopping, she didn't know. Perhaps he'd left it earlier on that day and simply scooped it into the bags after carrying them for her. That sure made more sense than her theory of him hiding the book down his running shorts. “P.S. My dog and I share a number, so I guess I'll just have to give you that one. Just tell Cooper no phone calls past ten o'clock, that's her bedtime.”

She'd never thought it would be so easy to achieve her hot neighbor's number, but the crumpled paper in her hand told her differently.

The room was dark. Or maybe her eyes were closed. Y/N honestly didn't know nor care enough to find out which was the truth. No, all she cared about was the feeling of her nerves being lit on fire and simultaneously soothed. As the moments passed, she became more and more aware of the predicament she found herself in. Her head was thrown back on the comfort of someone's pillow- it couldn't be one of her own, it was far too plush and soft -, both her legs were bent up at the knee, her hands were busy grasping on to anything and everything close by (the bed sheets, the headboard, the hair of whoever was currently positioned between her thighs) and her mouth was agape. Hushed moans and whimpers of ecstasy filled the thick air of the room, and they were all coming from her.

The tension was building in her gut, a knot winding itself tighter and tighter all the while threatening to snap at any moment. Her hips started grinding in time with the warm tongue against her heat. Or, maybe, she'd already been grinding before. Nothing was making sense. Up was down, left was right and Y/N was on the brink of the most thrilling orgasm she'd felt in a while, or ever, really.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

Her eyes- which apparently had in fact been opened all along-, with heavy eyelids, flickered down to between her legs. The man was certainly a specimen built to the likes of a Greek god, or something deriving from one. His fingers, buried deep within her, coaxed out another moan from her as they curled upwards. Daveed only smiled in satisfaction at this, as if he was getting more pleasure from it than she was.

Daveed.

Holy shit.

Daveed was between her bare legs.

Y/N bolted up and out of bed, hand reaching out and switching on the light. Just as she expected, there was no sign of Daveed in her room: not on her bed, not under her covers, not in her closet. But he was everywhere in her mind. Fully dressed, Y/N had never felt more naked in her entire life as she gazed out of her bedroom balcony door, over at the very window of the man who'd soaked her dream in a haze of steam. 

His light was on.

Worst of all, she found that Daveed was sat at his desk, typing away at something on his opened laptop. As though he felt her intrusive gaze, he looked up from the screen and met her eyes. Due to the distance between them both Y/N couldn't tell for sure but she could have sworn he sucked in his lower lip before releasing it in a teasing smile, his hand lazily waving at her.

With all the shame in the world, she shut her curtains and flopped back on to her bad.

In the span of five minutes she'd dreamed of Daveed doing unspeakable things to her with that mouth of his and been caught peeking into the bedroom of the very same man.

She hadn't phoned him.

She hadn't sent a book over to him.

She hadn't opened her blinds.

He'd been stuck thinking about her for eight days straight, yet it was beginning to feel like she'd been nothing but a creation of his own socially starved brain.

In the grand scheme of things, Daveed was not a narcissist. But he also wasn't an idiot. He was very aware of his own looks, of the lingering stares he'd receive from his students- male and female alike-, of the way soccer moms would shamelessly pay more attention to him than their own sons when he coached the local little league team. And, up until that point, he'd been sure Y/N had been reciprocating whatever feelings he'd amassed for her.

One thing Daveed was is decisive.

Mask pulled across the lower part of his face, he let himself into the gated front yard. In a couple seconds, Cooper had pounced up at him, tail wagging a million miles an hour and tongue lapping away at his face. He chuckled as he lowered the dog safely back onto all four paws.

It only took knocking on the door twice for him to get a “Hold on!” shouted from some part of the house as a response. Relief flooded him at the sound of Y/N's voice, reassuring him that everything was okay. But it only brought on more questions about her sudden lack of communication.

“Hell- Oh, Daveed.” A mask decorated her own face, meaning he was unaware  of the hint of a smile on her lips. All Daveed could see were her widened and tired eyes. “Can I help you?” He'd been stood staring her in silence for a little too long, it seemed.

"You never called.” He'd never sounded more pathetic in his life.

“You noticed.”

“Of course I noticed. Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Apart from appear in one of my wet dreams? “What?! No! I've just been busy and I also didn't want to burden you, if I'm honest.”

“I gave you my number so you'd call me, Y/N.”

“And here I thought it was so our two dogs could kick off their fairy-tale romance.”

“As their parents, don't you think it's our responsibility to get along?” Daveed wanted to ask what had kept her busy for eight days. He wanted to know what she thought about in the morning, in the evening. What she thought about him. About the prospect of there ever being a “them”. But it wasn't the time nor the place. “Promise you'll call.”

“I promise I'll call you, loser.” She laughed behind her mask, leaving him with a longing to see her smile. “Now get lost, I've probably just burnt my omelette because of you.”

Daveed had just closed his front door as he felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket, an unknown number displayed across the screen.

“You owe me an omelette.” Were the first words he heard as he answered it.

Two months passed. The quarantine rules had loosened and tightened over and over again. The supermarkets had restocked their shelves many times. An entire season had come and gone. And Y/N and Daveed had spoken nearly every single day on the phone.

He'd come to learn a few key things: a health scare had kept her busy those eight days; she was allergic to bullshit and always called him out on his; she loved rose wine, or any wine really; she had the most beautiful mind.

She'd also come to learn some stuff about him: he was a university professor, specifying in classic literature; despite the muscles, he was one heck of a dork; he knew a little too much about the rap industry and was prone to throw himself into tangents about the subject; his voice was even more heavenly in the morning.

“Make yourself something to eat,” Daveed spoke down the line, a twinge of excited demand in his voice. “pour yourself a glass of wine and go up to your bedroom balcony.”

“Ooh, someone's feeling bossy tonight, huh?” Y/N laughed, switching the phone between hands as she pushed herself off of her couch, disturbing a sleeping Cooper. After a few strokes to his head, she began her journey to the kitchen, suppressing a laugh as the tired dog chose to follow her, much like he done all the time. “Am I allowed to ask why I'm doing this?”

“Just do it, before I hang up.”

“I'll add grumpy to list of Daveed Moods tonight.”

With a bowl of heated up leftover pasta, a bottle of red wine and a glass balanced in her hands, and her phone glued between her ear and her shoulder, Y/N found her way up stairs to her bedroom. She was incapable of turning on the lights until she'd put down the items in her hand. It was then, as the lights lit up her room in a warm, golden hue, that she noticed Daveed.

No, not in her room. That would have been completely creepy, and partially arousing.

He was sat out on his own balcony, room lit up behind him, with a dish of unknown food, some wine and a candle lit in front of him. He was dressed casually, yet Y/N still found herself on the cusp of drooling at the sight of him. And when he finally noticed her, Daveed waved with the most shit eating grin on his face.

“Cute onesie. What is it, a bunny?” His tone was friendly, as always, but that never stopped her from groaning in frustration at his teasing.

“Did you call me up here just to criticize my choice of clothing, Diggs? Because I was taking part in an intense Criminal Minds marathon before someone interrupted me.”

“I actually called you to invite you to enjoy the evening with me.” It was a curse and a blessing to be so foul minded, Y/N's instantly flooding her with different meanings to his words. “The sky looked pretty tonight and I need someone to appreciate it with me. Unfortunately, you're the only one who answered my call.”

“I won't hesitate to hang up.”

“Stop talking and sit down, your dinner'll get cold.”

Who knows how much time really passed as the two sat staring out at the other, bellies filled by food and wine, hearts filled with desire and longing. There was a great distance between the two balconies but Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so close to someone, even before social distancing had become the norm.

“It's crazy, I know. How can we be prepared to teach classes now that the infection rates are higher than back at the start of the year, where we all shut down?” Daveed had brought up the fact he was going back to work soon, a topic which made him a perfect blend of relieved, infuriated and confused. “I give it one semester till they make us go back to online teaching, honestly. What about you? Any signs of getting back to your office?”

“We just got the go ahead last week, we're opening back up in a fortnight.” Her reply was paused by a sip of wine, her second glass of the night. “I say we but I really mean them. My doctor told me I'm not allowed to go back yet, apparently I've got some tests left to do.”

The silence that ensued lasted quite a few minutes, then Daveed sighed down the line.

“Is it alright for me to ask why?” He seemed to regret his words instantly, at least from the limited expressions Y/N could read on his face. “I mean, the doctor thing. Are you sick or...?”

“Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner.” In their months of getting to know each other, there were times she couldn't even open the door to him when he'd deliver some of her mail or drop off a bunch of flowers he'd stolen from a neighboring garden. It was always under the excuse of doctor's orders and he never questioned or doubted her, he just accepted her for everything she said and gave of herself. “I was in a car accident a couple years ago. It wasn't fatal for anyone, thankfully, but it was pretty bad. One of my lungs ended up collapsing.

I pretty much lived in and out of the hospital for months, which almost sucked more than having a lung that was pretty much giving up on me. I don't know if you've ever spent a lot of time in hospital but it's like attending your own funeral. Everyone that visits you has this look of grief, everything they say is apologetic and there are so many tears. Not to mention the fact the place smells like a crime scene with how much bleach cleaning they do. Anyways, I'm okay now but I guess they consider me high risk or something so they're taking extra steps to make sure I'm as safe and as far away from that virus as possible.”

“So, correct me if I'm wrong, but does that mean I won't be able to take you out anytime soon?” Daveed spoke up finally, and boy was she glad that he didn't want to stick on the topic of her hospital stay. It was a dark and sad time, and she didn't want to experience any of that with him.

“Nope, not until I get permission from my doctor.”

“Can't believe I'm getting cock-blocked by some fucking virus.”

A laugh, so loud that Daveed heard it without his phone pressed to his ear, erupted from Y/N. “You'll just have to settle for balcony dates for now.”

“This isn't a date, Y/N.” It was his turn to laugh.

“Oh, sorry.” Clearly, she was worse at reading signs than she'd thought. She'd never felt more foolish in her life.

“When I eventually do take you on a date, there won't be so much space between us.” His words honestly had the chance to make or break her in that moment, her entire soul depended on whatever he said next. “It'll be a night where I take you to the most ridiculously expensive restaurant. We won't really like the food on the menu but we'll stay as part of a principle. You'll be reluctant to let me blow all my money on the bill but I'll get my way eventually. We'll find some excuse or reason to stay out. Maybe we'll find some piano bar, do some dancing, share some drinks. I don't think I'll be able to stop thinking about how beautiful you look. We'll still be hungry because dinner was shit, so we'll get some fast food before you let me drive us home. I'll probably hold your hand while I drive. I'll walk you to your front door and, even if I really wish you'd invite me in, I'll be relieved when you don't. I'll try tell you how much I enjoyed our night but I'll probably fumble my words. You'll finally send me on my way but I'll find a way to steal a kiss from you. I'll probably think about your lips until the next date I take you on.”

“The english major really jumped out of you.” Y/N wished she didn't lack the self control to say something normal when a man spoke to her like Daveed did. “But, uh, that sounds really nice. Honestly. Except the bill part. We'll be splitting it or I won't be coming on that date.”

“You're so high maintenance, Y/N from door 27, but I guess that could work.” The eye-roll was audible in his tone. “Speaking of english major, I actually have a book for you to read.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I'll drop it round in the morning.”

“I'll be at the doctors in the morning, sorry.” The wine had rushed to her cheeks, heating them up and making the chill in the air all the more relaxing, lulling her into a half asleep faze.

“Don't worry, I'll leave you a note.”

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues

sometimes you punch the bag, sometimes to bag punches you

word count: 4.5k

warnings: none. heavy handed use of italics

ship: Dousy (Daniel Sousa/Daisy Johnson), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

ahaha.. and the fun begins (the cryptic-ness is for a reason i promise)

“Ow!!” Daisy exclaimed. This was the second time today she had gotten distracted and let the punching bag swing into her. Sans Bobbi or Mack, her usual workout partners, there was no one to hold the bag still while she was pummeling it. Her side of the gym was entirely void of people, most opting to use the treadmills or other cardio machines lining the wall of large windows that faced the forest to the south, or stick to circuits on the resistance machines throughout the middle of the gym. The universe seemed to be telling her to get in some boxing, so she walked over to the bag with the intention of punching until her arms hurt.

Now her nose hurts, too.

“You need a spot?” May asked, silently crossing the padded floor to Daisy.

She nodded. Waiting for May to get into position, Daisy stretched out her arms over her head and across her body, twisting her torso to feel her abs stretch. When May gave her a thumbs up, Daisy started to punch the heavy bag again, this time with a little more force now that she knew it wouldn’t fly back and hit her in the face.

“Something on your mind?”

“No,” Daisy grunted. “Just slacked off the last few weeks. With everyone gone on break there wasn’t as much of... everything, I guess, to keep me in a routine.”

May nodded. “Breaks can be tough. No classes, schedule disrupted, more free time than you know what to do with. I get it. If you ever want a time-filler, text and I’ll be there.”

Daisy nodded, going back to silently punching. The breaks weren’t all bad. They only happened eight times a year, five two-week breaks and three three-week breaks. Enough time that those with families and lives outside of SHIELD could visit and vacation, but not fall behind. Plus, it gave Daisy the campus pretty much to herself. Only about forty students stayed at The Academy over breaks, and it seemed to decrease every time.

Another good thing about breaks was that Daisy got to know more people personally. Whether it was how the tall, fifth-year red head took her morning coffee or that the new group of first-years liked to run the same trails through the forest as she did. So, when an entirely new face had cropped up out of nowhere, Daisy was intrigued. He walked with a limp, had nice hair and kind eyes. She didn’t recognize him, and despite the fact that he had arrived the same day as the rest of the first-years, he was definitely the oldest of the pack. That was unusual, Daisy had thought, SHIELD almost always recruits directly out of high school or college. The last time anyone over the age of twenty-five had been accepted to the Academy was when Daisy herself had started. However, that was a bit of a… special situation.

Every morning, New Guy crossed through the computer lab and waved, smiling confidently at Daisy. His sudden appearance and amicable interactions confused her. Classes weren’t in session, but he always had a backpack with him. Maybe he had tutoring with one of the professors? A new student trying to catch up before the term even began — an enigma.

Once classes had started, he still came by everyday. Daisy liked to think it was because he wanted to see her. They had never spoken more than tired greetings to each other, and yet Daisy felt herself pulled towards him. She shook off the thought. It made her skin crawl, thinking about the last time she felt such a magnetic attraction to someone.

She realized May was studying her through the mirrors lining the wall next to the row of punching bags. She cleared her throat and asked, “Is my form okay?”

May gave her a long look that clearly said, ‘You know that your form is fine.’

Daisy pulled her eyes away from May’s stare, announcing, “I’m going to fill up my water, do you need any?”

May shook her head, pulling out her phone.

Daisy bent down to grab her water and headed to the back of the gym, towards the locker rooms. A couple of reusable bottle-filler stations were stuck into the wall, right next to the PT rooms. Daisy couldn’t help but peer into the closest one as she listened to the sound of water streaming into her bottle. It was filled with floor ladders, yoga balls, sports med supplies... New Guy. Huh.

Wondering why he would be sitting in a dark PT room by himself, Daisy took a swig of her water before continuing to fill it up. He hopped off the table as the lights came on, a young doctor-type walking in a smiling. She was reminded of his limp when he walked towards her, shaking her hand and flashing a large smile. Cute, Daisy noticed. Wait, no, what?

Daisy promptly turned and headed back to the wall of mirrors, choosing to ignore the smirk on May’s face.

“Ready?” Daisy asked.

“Actually,” May began, “Why don’t we get in some sparring? You’ve been at this for over an hour.”

Daisy caught the glance May threw at the half-assed wraps on her hands and nodded. With only a few jitters, Daisy quickly helped May unroll the sparring mats onto the floor. Daisy had only sparred with Yo-Yo since she got back from Columbia visiting her cousin. Sparring with May was an entirely different level.

After some warm-up drills, May silently took charge and got into a fighting stance. Daisy rose up on her tip-toes, then rocked backwards. The grey padding beneath her looked a lot softer than it felt while being slammed onto it. A quick lunge from Daisy and a swift deflection by May, and the two women were off.

Across the gym, Daniel Sousa and the doctor were chatting, watching Daisy and May.

“They look like they’re barely breaking a sweat,” Daniel commented after May leaped off Daisy’s leg, flipping forwards and attempting to grab Daisy around the shoulders. Daisy rolled backward, throwing May over her and getting to her feet as the shorter woman jumped up into a wide stance.

“You’ll get back to that level,” The physical therapist assured him.

Daniel shook his head. “Maybe. I hope so. If not, I’m a damn good shot, anyway.”

The doctor chuckled before motioning back to the PT room. “C’mon, you still have thirty minutes stuck with me before I release you from daily therapy.”

“It’s only been three weeks?” Daniel questioned, confused. They walked through a black door to a small room. Grey cabinets on one side, a black table on the other, physical therapy tools lined up in organized sections.

“Most of which was just assessing you. You already know the exercises and stretches, and you completed the physical therapy recommended by your primary care physician before you came to us. You have the strength mostly back in your residual limb, at least to the point where sparring shouldn’t do any damage. I still expect you to show up at least twice a week. Especially since you’re starting field training with May.”

He smiled. “How do you know about that?”

“I have access to your file, Sousa,” She reminded him, “I also know you were late to her class on the first day. Not a smart move, in my opinion.”

Daniel cringed at the memory of heads turning his way, watching him limp to the only open seat in the very front. May’s comment— “Thoughtful of you to join us, Agent Sousa,” —still turned his face a slightly embarrassing shade of red when he thought about it.

Noticing his uncomfortable silence, the physical therapist put on a sympathetic face. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I was late to my first class, too. Professor Martin, advanced physiology. Granted, I was seventeen...”

Daniel playfully glared at her.

“...but I suppose that’s no excuse. Let’s get started.”

The rest of the day went by without Daisy or Daniel seeing much of each other besides a fleeting glimpse while changing classes. Not that they were looking for the other, or anything.

A few hours later, before dinner, Daisy was sitting on the counter in the girls’ dorm bathroom, watching Jemma curl her hair.

Jemma Simmons was one of the only people she immediately loved at SHIELD, and the first person she had trusted on Coulson’s team. Over the course of a couple months, they became closer than Daisy had ever been with anyone, spending almost every waking moment together. Over time, Daisy had grown to love the rest of the team, too, learning that they had also been hand picked by Coulson. Though, technically, Daisy hadn’t been chosen for the team. She was picked up as a consultant. But it didn’t matter, as the ragtag team had quickly been disbanded.

Knives shoved into your back can have that effect.

After the end of the team, Code-named Bus Kids, Daisy, Fitzsimmons, Tripp, and May and Coulson had come to the Academy to continue working with SHIELD. Daisy and Tripp were assigned as partners in their ops training, Fitzsimmons were partners in the lab, and May and Coulson still checked on them as if nothing had changed.

But people get busy, and it had been awhile since Jemma and Daisy had properly talked to each other.

“Does the bruise on my nose look like it’ll go away any time soon?”

Jemma glanced up through the mirror, shrugging. “It should. What did you do to it?”

Daisy fiddled with her hands, only answering when Jemma turned to face her fully.

“I kinda, uhm, got punched...”

The stern look Jemma gave Daisy quickly melted into laughter as the brunette added, “...by a punching bag.”

Reaching up to turn Daisy’s face towards the fluorescent bathroom lighting, Jemma gently ran a finger along the angry red splotch on the top of Daisy’s nose. She jerked her head a bit, wincing at the contact.

“You should be fine, I’ll grab some of the good anti-inflammatory meds from the medical storage.”

Daisy thanked her, hopping off the counter to grab an eyeliner pen. “So, how is Fitz? Is this a real date night or are you guys ‘just hanging out’?”

Jemma smiled at his name and rubbed her neck. Daisy smiled back at the subconscious reaction.

“You two are so meant for each other,” She teased.

Jemma tilted her face up towards Daisy, allowing her to start applying eyeliner.

“He hasn’t really defined it. We’re ‘going out’, but we aren’t dating.”

Daisy finished the subtle cat eye, shaking her head. When would he learn that Jemma would only believe they were together if he said, ‘Hey, Jems, I’m completely and totally in love with you and I want you and I to live happily ever after!’

Daisy watched Jemma inspect herself in the mirror, touching up her mascara.

“You look amazing. He’s a fool if he doesn’t see it,” Daisy assured.

Jemma smiled. Her Sheffield accent had gotten thicker over break, Daisy noticed, as Jemma responded, “He does, I know he does. We both just have trouble, you know? Voicing our thoughts and feelings.”

Daisy definitely knew…

“Well, he could do with a good reminder sometimes. If y’all are going to keep going on these not-dates, you might as well show him what he’s missing by staying just friends!”

Jemma laughed, smiling gratefully. She took one final look in the mirror, swishing her knee-length royal blue dress and fluffing her hair. “Okay, well, off I go. Have a good night, Daisy.”

Daisy gave her a thumbs up and went to watch out her window as Fitz handed Jemma a hand-picked bouquet of (slightly squished) wildflowers and took her arm to lead her to the parking lot.

Daisy sighed and turned away from the gold and pink sunset. She opened her personal laptop, immediately bombarded by three windows running programs. One was running an innocent algorithm to clean all the useless, unused files from her computer, one was a simulation that could (hypothetically, no harm no foul) hack the Pentagon, and another was trying to find video and audio feed from Los Angeles, four months ago.

Daisy’s gaze lingered on the last one, not expecting anything new. She sighed and picked up her laptop, deciding to go visit Mack in the garage. It was only seven on a Friday, he’d probably be there working on the run-down, close to falling apart Harley he had bought off an old friend for $200. Mack had been working on it for months. Daisy wasn’t even sure it had half its original parts.

A short trip across the grounds and a trek over a winding path cut through a field of thick tallgrass later, Daisy arrived at the garage.

The monstrous steel and concrete building was like a plane hangar and mechanics lab forged into one. Workstations around the edge were strewn with tools, motors, and half-finished pieces of tech. Shining black SHIELD vehicles and even two quinjets sat in the middle, outlined by rectangular blocks of tape and paint. Catwalks crossed the upper level so that mechanics could reach the tops of planes when necessary, though SHIELD planes hardly ever came to The Academy unless they were being used for a lesson.

Daisy followed the sounds of tinkering and the quietly moving shadows to Mack’s workstation. She carefully leaned against a nearby SHIELD van, not wanting to interrupt his work.

Now, to say that Mack wasn’t easily frightened was an understatement. Daisy had hardly ever seen the muscled giant of a man so much as jump. Ever since discovering this, Daisy had taken every opportunity to try to scare Mack. It was not going great.

Daisy pulled out her phone, silently thumbing through emails and checking Instagram. She was about to walk over and tap him on the shoulder when Mack turned around and screamed.

Clutching his chest, Mack exclaimed, “Tremors, what the hell?!”

“I just wanted to come check in,” Daisy giggled, happy that she had finally snuck up on Mack.

Mack stood with his hands on his hips, smiling wide, before cocking one thick eyebrow and gesturing at her face.

“What happened to your nose?”

“Punching bag won this morning,” She shrugged.

Mack shook his head, laughing in a deep rumble. “You wanna help me with this?” He asked, pointing to the small device on his desk.

She didn’t answer, just reached out to take a small screwdriver from Mack’s very large hand. He showed her how to twist it to create leverage without it slipping while he messed with some wires, and eventually he seemed satisfied.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Mack asked casually.

Daisy nodded, her grumbling stomach betraying her.

Mack eyed her up and down. “Sure. Well, I’m hungry, so let's get something to eat and then we can take the bikes out.”

Daisy liked the feeling of being on a bike, the wind in her hair and steady vibrations from the engine soothing her ever-present headache. Ever since this revelation, if Mack went out on his motorcycle, he invited Daisy to ride with him.

At first, Daisy had been skeptical. What was so great about a two-wheel speeding death trap? One of her best friends had driven a gleaming 1969 Dodge Charger, and she had enjoyed riding with the windows down, but it still wasn’t the absolute best experience of her life, like most motorcyclists claimed a ride could be. However, once Daisy had finally taken Mack up on his offer, she was never hesitant to accept another invitation.

In the canteen, Mack piled a plate high with salad ingredients and baked spaghetti, scooping some off into a bowl for Daisy once he got back to the table. She took a fork and picked at it, chewing the crisp lettuce slowly.

Once they were both finished, Mack put his plate and utensils on the circling dish belt. He let Daisy lead the way back to the garage. She immediately grabbed two helmets and Mack’s gloves.

“That leather jacket gonna be enough to keep you warm? I have a couple old flannels in my bag if you want one.” Mack offered.

Daisy picked at a loose thread on the worn black jacket, nodding and throwing a ‘Thanks’ over her shoulder. She quickly rifled through his duffel bag, pulling out a faded black and blue flannel and shrugging it on under her jacket.

Mack mounted his black and silver bike, Daisy choosing a smaller SHIELD one. She kicked the kickstand back with her foot, finding her balance. She followed Mack as he revved the engine and took off out of the garage. Daisy heard him speak into the helmet’s mic.

“I upgraded the bikes, bigger tires and a better visor. It’s more efficient. Plus, when I’m out on the highway, cars don’t push me around.”

Daisy gave him a thumbs up, focusing on the feeling of air flowing around her. She sped up as she reached the road. She felt as if she was flying high into the air, fighting the laws of physics. On the back roads surrounding the Academy, as familiar as the back of her hand, Daisy relaxed and let herself fall into autopilot.

She heard Mack in her ear, still talking about the bike. She had heard it all before, but there was something centering about listening to Mack retell the evolution of his bike for the hundredth time, like a kid who begged to hear the same bedtime story every night.

It was freeing, speeding down a deserted road on the bike, stars above and pavement below. Pine trees reached for the sky on each side of her. Shrubbery and grass waved to Mack and Daisy as they raced forward.

A slight burn pricked her eyes that she knew wasn’t from the wind. Daisy needed this after a stressful first couple weeks back in class. To be honest, it was what she needed all the time. Daisy was exhausted. Her powers may not be visible, but they were always on, always bouncing around her body. Times like these, though, Daisy felt free. Releasing the constant grip she had on her self-control, she let the vibrations of the engine flow through her. Slowly, surely, Daisy let her guard down. A whispering warble crept into her ears over the wind. She could feel the way the pavement below and the humid late-August air around her absorbed the miniscule quakes, bouncing lightly off the tall trees like a quiet laugh reflecting off the walls of an echo-chamber.

About an hour later, Daisy and Mack were rolling back into the garage. Daisy couldn’t hide the slight redness in her eyes, but the smile on her face told Mack he didn’t need to worry. The pair silently did maintenance on the motorcycles, re-fueling them for later use and checking for any loose parts on Daisy’s.

Daisy headed back to campus, refusing Mack’s offer to walk her back to the dorms. She would be fine on her own. Besides, Jems might be back by now, she could ask about Fitzsimmons’ date. Or she could wait until breakfast tomorrow and tease them both.

Daisy stopped in her tracks. Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow slipped behind a building. Daisy felt her back tense, her hands curling into fists.

Any remainder of twilight light had faded while Mack and Daisy maintenanced the bikes. Daisy couldn’t imagine that any of the trainees that went to parties at the nearby universities were back yet, but no student in their right mind would want to simply walk around the dark campus of the Academy.

She kept walking, more alert. No sounds apart from her steady breathing and the rustle of grass beneath her feet reached her ears. She walked slowly toward where the shadow had disappeared. It looked as if it was headed to the biochem building. Daisy raised her hands, quietly running towards the white building, slightly crouched. She circled it once, twice, before deciding she had been imagining things, the shadow was only a trick of the light. It seemed so real though, so solid…

Daisy shook her head and crossed the courtyard, heading towards the dorms. It was late, and she had important things to do tomorrow. She was probably just tired from her ride with Mack.

Behind her, unnoticed by Daisy, the shadow quickly crossed the field behind the biochem building, slinking into the tallgrass.

The next day, Daisy woke to the sound of her alarm blaring 90’s RnB at six thirty AM, sharp. She quickly shut it off and stared at the ceiling for a moment before groaning and dragging herself out of bed. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night after her encounter with the shadow.

The sun was slowly ascending in the sky, golden light filtering into her windows. It was early, but she didn’t have the energy to go workout. Instead, Daisy stretched on her bed and sent a quick text to Jemma asking to meet up later to gossip about her date.

She grabbed shorts and a cropped sweatshirt, quickly dressing and making her way to the bathroom. She clipped her hair back, brushed her teeth, washed her face and headed back to her room. Trying her best to cover the bruise that had turned from red-violet to a blue-ish tinted black, she did minimal makeup. It’s not like it could get any worse, she thought bitterly. The concealer wasn’t much use.

Deciding to ignore the bruise, Daisy stood up, grabbed her backpack with her personal laptop and journal and headed to the canteen.

There weren’t many students around campus this early in the morning. Most were either asleep or nursing a hangover in their dorms. A few dedicated trainees were scattered amongst the different buildings, either in the gym or studying on their favourite bench. Daisy made a beeline for the canteen, hoping that no one had drank all the fresh coffee yet.

She slipped through the doors, sending small smiles to the students she made eye-contact with, faltering when her roving gaze reached a set of twinkling eyes the color of coffee. Maybe, she thought, I should go over and talk to him. What’s the worst that can happen?

She quickly poured herself a cup of coffee and grabbed a cinnamon raisin bagel from the pastry cart. Checking to be sure he wasn’t sitting with anyone (she wouldn’t want to intrude), Daisy walked around to the back of the large room, sitting in a spot diagonal from him.

After a few minutes of silence where Daisy ate her bagel and pretended not to feel his eyes on her, she turned and faced him.

“Good morning,” she said.

He dipped his head and raised his paper cup of coffee at the same time in response.

Does he not want to talk to me? Daisy questioned herself. She tried again. “So, is the coffee good?” He glanced at her cup that she had been sipping. Daisy recovered, “You know, in your opinion. I love the coffee here, the slightly burned aftertaste goes well with cream and sugar.΅

To her relief, he smiled. “Yeah, it’s good. I don’t usually use cream or sugar.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Ah, more of a bare necessities, no-nonsense guy?”

His nose scrunched a little in thought, as if he was assessing his entire personality to see if it aligned with Daisy’s coffee psychology. He nodded finally, elaborating, “I was in the army. Most of us drank it black while deployed. I never got out of the habit. But, to answer your question, I like to think of myself as low maintenance.”

He sent her a small smile that had her insides melting just a bit. Daisy hid behind the rim of her coffee cup, trying to think of a response. Luckily, New Guy saved her.

“How do you drink your coffee?”

Daisy lowered her own paper cup, clearing her throat. “One half and half, just a bit of sugar. If I’m super tired I’ll add more.”

“So you probably adapt easily and have a deep hunger for answers to all your questions?”

Daisy’s eyes quickly flicked down to her coffee, wondering if her coffee order really exposed that much about her. Daniel laughed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “I’m kidding. I noticed how you’re always in the computer lab before class, and Yo-Yo told me that you use that time to research.”

Daisy felt a blush creep up her neck. Yo-Yo knew New Guy? And gave him information about her schedule?

Daniel quickly explained, “We see each other in the halls a lot. And we have a class together. She noticed me in the lab and thought I knew you.”

Daisy relaxed. Yo-Yo had become increasingly more friendly to strangers the longer she spent at the Academy.

“I remember the first time I met her. She was so angry that SHIELD had stopped her from exposing the police in her city as corrupt. Our team was sent in to help her finish what she had started, destroy weapons and take down the corrupt members of the department. It was fun,” She chuckled.

Daniel watched her through his thin clear-frame glasses. She winced a little as her nose scrunched with laughter, recalling another story about a mission gone awry that Yo-Yo saved.

“How did you get that bruise?”

“What?”

He pointed to the spot on his face that mirrored the position of the bruise on hers. “The bruise. It looks like it hurts.”

Daisy shrugged, “Not as badly as getting shot. But you know, sometimes you punch the bag, sometimes the bag punches you.”

Despite the playful nature of the statement, Daniel couldn’t help but hear alarm bells in the back of his mind. She had been shot?!

Daisy noticed the change in Daniel’s demeanor and switched tactics, “It’s just a bruise. I wasn’t paying attention and the punching bag flew back and hit me in the face.”

Daniel laughed, becoming more and more intrigued with the enigma sitting across from him. Well, at least this enigma was beautiful, even if she had lost a fight to a punching bag.

A look of pure confusion overtook Daisy’s features. “Excuse me?”

Daniel’s face flushed bright red. He said that out loud. Daisy was still smiling though, Daniel let out a nervous chuckle. The two lapsed into an awkward silence. Daisy was finishing her bagel when he spoke up again.

“It was good talking to you,” he said softly.

Daisy’s eyes wandered his face with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, it was.”

He resisted the urge to offer to walk Daisy to wherever she was going as she headed out of the doors of the canteen, coffee with one half and half and pinch of sugar in hand.

————————————————————————————

hi hellooo! whatd you think? comments and notes are appreciated! (will go back and edit this later, for now i sleep)

tag list: @jaanulore

[sunaswife]

A Suna Rintarou series

Summary: Suna was the best boyfriend you could ask for, after fighting with your inner demons that screamed you were ugly, worthless, and annoying. You finally decided to go the next step with your boyfriend, only to find out it was all a game.

A/N: PART 17 AND FULL OF SMUT 😌🥵

Warnings: underaged drinking, smut, guys talking badly about women, heartbreak, messed up shit that you shouldn’t do and a bit of fluff if you squint

Disc nine-slide one: Suna Rintarou 🖤

“You look so pretty underneath me, princess.” Suna said lowly as you gripped your white bedsheets. You bit your lip in anticipation as you waited for your boyfriend to stuff you with his cock. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He said a little louder and lifted your chin with his free hand so you can look into his eyes. They were a shade darker and you could see the lust and desire in his eyes. “R-rin you already made me cum twice. If you keep at it I-I’ll be too tired to have your d-dick in me.”

He sucked in a breath at your dirty words. It was taking everything in him to not shove his cock into your virgin cunt and use you like his own fleshlight. He can already hear your moans. “I’m prepping you. I need you nice and wet. I don’t want you to feel any pain. Only pleasure.” He said and you nodded slowly. His thumb swirled on your clit and you whimpered. “Please Rin, I’m ready. I know I’m ready. Please let me just feel your cock already.” You pleaded and he let out a deep groan.

“For someone who’s never done this before you sure are everyone’s dream girl. Small, innocent, submissive, and a little bratty.” He smirked and your cheeks tinted. “Do you want me to take off my pants or—“ “Let me do it...please.” You asked with your big glossy eyes.

Who was he to say no to you?

He removed himself from over your body and you quickly sat up. Your necklace was shining in the moonlight. Only a few hours ago he gave it to you after the twins left. It had the English letter R for his first name and he helped you put it on. He noticed the small shiver you let out when his fingers grazed over your collarbones and neck. The look in your eyes said you were horny and with a little bit of a push, you told him you were ready.

But sadly he didn’t have condoms. And you weren’t on birth control.

So he quickly threw on his jacket and scarf. He almost tripped putting on his shoes and he ran to the closest convenience store to purchase some condoms. The college girl working rolled her eyes at Suna’s panting form. His lungs were burning by how cold it was outside and all for a box of condoms. After he paid he didn’t even get his change and he ran back to your house as quick as his long legs could take him.

He quickly unlocked your door with your keys and he entered the warm home. He smiled slightly and fantasized about how in a few years time you both would have a home like this. With your own rugrats running around. Even though he can’t stand them, he’d ring up the twins and ask them to babysit so he can have some alone time with you. When he finished taking off his his shoes and other winter clothes he wore, he practically ran up the stairs and opened the door in your room to see you sitting in the middle of your bed in just your underwear and his Volleyball Jersey.

He quirked up an eyebrow. Since when did you take his jersey? But then he remembered that you came over the week prior and probably took it without him noticing since the team didn’t have any games lately due to the snowy weather. “I-I thought you might like it..” you said quietly as you fiddled with the hem of the shirt.

“I don’t like it.” He deadpanned and you looked away embarrassed.

“I love it.”

He breathed out and your ears barley caught it. When you turned to look up, the door was already slammed shut and his lips were on yours. He first asked for desert and ate you out and regretted not asking you to allow him to do this a while back.

You tasted so sweet.

It was intoxicating.

You tugged his hair and subconsciously pushed his face even closer to your sex as you came. He could still hear the continued prayer of his name dripping off your tongue. He then hovered over you and began kissing your lips once more. He wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue. His sinful words made your thighs clench together but he sneaked his hand in between and began using his fingers to prep you for his dick.

And now here you were, being such a good girl for him. Making you cum twice was worth it because you finally had a taste of this world and the way you acted after, so desperate and touch starved made his dick even harder. You began unbuckling his belt and the buttons of his jeans and he quickly kicked them off his legs.

He heard you gulp as your gaze focused on the large bulge behind his boxers. Your legs clenched together again and he couldn’t stop his stupid smirk. “What? Is my princess so mesmerized by my dick she forgot it’s hers?” He asked and you looked up at him once more.

“Mine? As in...I can do whatever I want, right?” You asked and he gave you the nod of consent. Your slightly shakey hands touched his abs with a small amount of pressure to push his back down against the bed and they lowered to the waistband of his boxers. Without wasting any time you pulled them down and you gasped at the sight of your boyfriends cock.

“How the fuck is that going to fit in me?” You asked and he chuckled. “That’s why I prepped you baby.” He said softly and grabbed your hand. You let him guide you to his hard on that pressed against his stomach and you couldn’t believe this is what you made Rin feel. He sighed and you saw him close his eyes when your hands gripped his cock as you moved your hand up and down. Your thumb grazed over his pink slit on the tip and he hissed. His eyes didn’t open as he was enjoying this hand job. You carefully moved back a bit and bent down to the eye level of his shaft.

You wanted to repay him for how he made you feel earlier so you kitten licked his tip and he gasped and immediately gripped your hair. “Princess..are you seriously going to give me a blowjob? The hand job is enough.” He said and looked down. You did look hot with your ass in the air, his fingers tangled in your locks with your glossy eyes looking up. Instead of answering, you gave him a small smirk and opened your mouth to take him all in while maintaining eye contact and he wanted to cum then and there.

“Fuck—princess. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He said and you giggled on his dick, sending vibrations. You obviously weren’t perfect since it was your first time and he used his hand to guide you up and down and your ears perked up when he came closer and closer to his high. He let out a loud groan as he came in your mouth. You cleaned him good so he wouldn’t dirty his Jersey with warm cum.

“You’re such a good girl. You know that right?” He said as his chest heaved up and down. “Only for you.” You smiled sweetly and kissed the side of his jaw, your lips moved to his neck and you felt him harden again in your hand when you gave him a love bite. “Can you go inside me already? I think I waited long enough. I’m dripping everywhere.” You said in his ear and before you knew it, you were pinned down. His fingers laced with yours as he slowly entered his dick into your dripping cunt.

“Princess, you’re so tight.” He sighed and looked up to see you in tears. “Baby whats the matter?” He said worried and he stopped “D-don’t stop. I’m just really excited and nervous so I’m crying. Keep going, please.” You begged and he nodded and continued the slow torture. You lifted your legs and you wrapped them around Rin’s lower waist and you used your feet to pull Rin closer. You thought he was already all the way in because of how full you felt but you didn’t and you practically shoved him inside your virgin hole and there was a sting of when he ripped your hymen.

You both gasped as you held on to his biceps and he gripped the sheets beneath you. He was finally all the way in. He asked if you were alright and you nodded and quietly asked for him to start moving. He gave you a soft kiss over your tear and he rolled his hips slowly so you could get a feel.

Your sounds of tiny gasps, moans and squeaks encouraged him to quicken his pace. You were a moaning mess below him and he was in awe. His Jersey was long gone as well as the shirt he was wearing. The golden R rested between your beautiful breasts and he was on cloud 9. How can someone look so innocent yet so dirty at the same time? His head lowered and he whispered praises in your ear of how well you were taking him and how proud he was if you. He kept repeating how beautiful you looked. He kissed the side of your neck and licked your collarbone. His teeth bit the chain and he lightly tugged causing you to open your eyes to meet his predatory gaze.

“Fuck princess you’re so fucking gorgeous.” He whispered as he drank up your messy appearance. He felt himself get close so his thumb immediately went to your clit. Your voiced raised a good two octaves as you repeated his name over and over. You were being too loud to his liking so he removed his thumb and you pouted and gave him a glare. He stopped moving and pulled out. He snorted at your face. “Don’t look at me like that, pet. Just give me a sec.” He said and you almost choked.

Pet?!

He gave you another sexy smirk and moved your left leg over his shoulder. Your pussy clenched over nothing and he was so amused. His tip played with your entrance and before you could whine he pushed all the way in again causing him to literally take your breath away.

He saw the way your mouth opened and nothing came out.

He found your g spot.

He continued to reach that spot over and over again causing your legs to shake and without any warning you clenched around his length and you both simultaneously came at the same time.

You held on to his back, you definitely left scratch marks and bruises on his biceps. You both took a moment to catch your breaths and after a good two minutes he slowly pulled away and immediately fell beside you. He rested his head on your bare chest since it was second nature and you both pillow talked and he asked how your first experience felt. You answered honestly about how much you loved it and not long after you both fell asleep.

Leaving the unopened box of condoms forgotten under your bed.

Previously

Up next

Masterlist

A/N: First time ever doing smut so if it’s shit don’t @ me like that one bitch lol

A/N pt. 2 I posted a teaser/spoiler of the sequel here in case you wanna see it 👉🏽 🖤

these are some questions I answered regarding it. It’s a lot of information regarding Y/N during and after the timeskip and it’ll make more sense when I finally release the sequel 👉🏽🤍

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki