#i wrote this on my phone because of the tenderness i hold for this kind kind boy in my heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Chemical Romance

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris won’t have you running away from him. You’re his. He owns your heart, and now he’ll own all of you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: RPF, smut, slight dubcon(ish), jealous and possessive Chris, toxic relationship, recording without permission, forced marriage

A/N: I wrote this months ago and pulled it out to share it with my bestie @donutloverxo . Berry finally convinced me to post this and helped me beta this. Babe, I love you!

You were way past your teenage years, and yet you had the urge to giggle like one. If you licked your lips, you could still taste the trace of wine that had stained his lips. The memory of them pressing against you, brushing gently until they tangled in a mix of tongue and teeth had a delicious heat burning in your face. This was a good date, the third good date with a good man you met, and you were excited for more.

Looking over your shoulder you saw the lights of his car disappearing in the dark of night and you sighed contently, shutting your door behind you and dropping your keys in the bowl by the door. All of a sudden, your body broke into goosepimples, a chill settling over you and it took you a moment to understand why. Your body was recognizing the dark presence before your mind could.

“Good evening sweetheart. Had a good date?”

The door was right behind you, you could easily grab your car keys right now and run away. And yet all you could do was hold onto the wall as your knees trembled. You’d never been good at running away from him anyway.

Chris was lounging on your sofa, watching you with those arresting blue eyes that you knew changed shades with his mood. His beard was thicker than the last you’d seen him, and his lips were pulled into a sardonic smirk, eyes glinting furiously.

“How?” You sputtered, still rooted to your spot. You could run, you should run, but you knew you wouldn’t go far. He let you go only so far to give you a false sense of achievement, a mere taste of relief and freedom until he snatched you back to himself.

“I always think that every time you leave, it would be the last. You’ll realize that its futile, you’ll realize that we’re meant to be together.” Chris said, “But never did I imagine you to be stupid enough to be with another man.”

His voice had been described as dreamy by many, even by yourself, but right now it only rang of danger and anger. Softness was Chris’s weapon, to deliver the meanest words with a smile that was poison sweet. One time, you had loved to taste that poison yourself. Did it still run in your veins and taint you?

Looking at you from under his lashes, he spread his legs and beckoned you to him. You gulped before following, not daring to look away from him until you were before him.

“Kneel” He ordered softly. You knees hit the ground, the rug digging into your skin. He watched you watch him, eyes locked in a dialog of their own until his rough hand caressed the skin of your cheek. You leaned into his touch, hating yourself for being a slave to him and your desire. Even on your knees, the familiar feeling of peace flooded your senses. Nothing made you feel as alive as worshiping him. And nothing killed you as much as loving him.

“Please” You begged, pressing a kiss into his palm. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris regarded you with a look that was almost tender, his blue eyes staring into your own as if unearthing every secret you had ever kept from him. He pulled you closer, close enough to have you raise up and hold his shoulders while his lips brushed gently against yours.

“For as long as I live, you are mine. You know that. Why must you fight it?”

It had been a couple months since you last saw him, since the pads of his fingers had glided over the curves of your body and claimed you as his. You melted, you melted like the butter in a hot pan, sizzling with the heat of his ardor. One taste of him and you were ready to forget why you had left him, why you had packed up and left his house when he was out. Chris Evans didn’t just play your body, he also played your heart. He loved you so hard that it hurt.

You wondered if you should fight, if you should scream or cry. But you knew it the moment you walked inside your house tonight: you were going nowhere but to him. He held you as you captured his lips in yours, a hand fisting his hair and tugging. He pulled until you were on his lap, his beard scratching your skin and reminding you of all the ways he had marked you before.

Panting, you pulled away when he breathily whispered your name, eyes liquid and feral and kind. He was a man of many layers and you had unveiled the darkest of them. He no longer hid the rawest parts of him, and you never knew if it was a good thing or not.

“Pack up, I’m taking you back home.” He said, hands settling on your waist. “I am not spending one more night in a bed without you.”

You nodded, stealing another kiss until you surrendered to his demands. Again.

Dodger ran to you, whining and wagging his tail as you sat down to give him better access. You’d missed your furry companion, his coat soft on your cheek when you nuzzled into him. Chris chuckled, rolling your bags into his room while you and Dodger had your little reunion.

“I am so sorry Bubba” You cooed to him, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me, hmm?”

Dodger barked, rubbing his body against you. You laughed, cuddling your little boy. You’d missed waking upto him snuggled by your feet and the soft pattering of his feet as he followed you around.

“He didn’t eat right for a week after you left. You were being a bad mommy.” Chris said coming behind you. He petted Dodger before pulling you up by your arm, your chest flushed to his. You loved how he smelled of coffee and beer and cinnamon. He tasted of them too, bitter and addictive.

Your fingers traced a path in his beard, lips pressing into the hollow of his throat. It scared you how much power he had over you. You’d promised yourself you’ll break away from his hold when you found him snooping in your phone again. His possessiveness knew no bounds. If Chris had it his way, he’d hide you in a castle made only for his eyes. But right now, in the heaven of his arms, you couldn’t remember why you left him in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You whispered, hugging him tight. His arms came around you, holding you so possessively close that even death couldn’t rip you apart. Chemical romance, that’s how Scott had explained your relationship once. Your friends had stopped complaining, had stopped warning after losing count over how often you broke up and got back together.

“I am so pissed at you.” He said in your ear, breath warm on your skin. “I want to erase every lingering trace of that man’s touch from your body. But more than that, I need to remind you who you belong to.”

You refused to look at him, burying your head in his chest even as you held him tighter.

“I belong to you. I know it baby, I made a mistake.” You said, voice muffled. Chris tutted, pushing your face away firmly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze.

“Here I am, feeling guilty for even touching other women during a scene that is supposed to be my job. And my girl goes around fucking other men because we had an argument?” He hissed, a nerve throbbing in his temple. You pouted, bottom lip wobbling as you tried not to cry. You were raised to be a strong woman, someone who could speak for herself. How was it so easy for this man to reduce you to a sniveling woman for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“I didn’t fuck him.” You countered and Chris’s eyes flashed. You stared at each other until Chris practically growled and dragged you towards the bedroom. Dodger trailed behind you, stopping once Chris ordered him to stay put.

His bedroom, a space you had shared and abandoned all too many times was the same as always. It reeked of his aftershave and cologne, the stars winking at you from the window that overlooked the ground. Chris shut the door, rounding on you and pushing you towards the bed.

“You didn’t fuck him?” He spat, ticked off. “You let him touch you, you let him put his hands on what belongs to me.”

You shivered as your back met the cold sheets, bouncing slightly on the mattress. His anger was scary, but more than that it was exciting. It was you who had brought this strong, powerful man to this animalistic side. You, who could make him scowl and shout and get his heart pumping enough to bring blood to his face. You, who made him primitive as he held you down and fucked you into submission.

“We only kissed.” You said, knowing how to provoke him. That kiss was nice, it was sweet. But your body craved rough and hard, it craved to be possessed and used and worshiped. It craved Chris who left his handprints on your butt and his spent in your cunt. It craved Chris who kissed you until you were out of breath, who whispered the filthiest things to you as he buried himself in your warmth over and over until you were too hoarse to even cry.

He knew it, he read that in your eyes and in your touch that seared through the layers of clothes on his body. He knew you were getting under his skin on purpose, hurting him the way he hurt you so many times. Neither of you held back.

You tore away at his clothes, bucking your hips frantically in a bid to get closer. Chris cursed, squeezing your ass in his large hands and grounding his hardness on your thigh.

“You are testing me” He warned, naked flesh touching yours and hands entwining. You ignored him, the wetness dripping down your core begging his attention.

“Eat me” You cried, wiggling under him. He held fast, rubbing his cock on your abdomen, groaning softly. He nuzzled your neck, kissing softly on the spot he knew drove you wild. His weight prevented you from moving too much, not allowing you to do anything for yourself.

“You don’t tell me what to do baby. Not after letting another man touch you. Not after you walked out on me again.” He said angrily, forcing his gentle touch on your body that craved his roughness. You sobbed against his mouth, getting drunk on his lazy kisses and feather soft caresses. You knew what he was doing, you knew he wanted you to break and beg. And you had no dignity.

“Please” You begged, pathetically with tears in your eyes. “Give me what I want Chris. I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

He smirked, sucking a pert nipple in his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You moaned, struggling to move more. It wasn’t enough to have you under him. He needed more than your compliance. He needed your surrender, he needed you to love him with a hunger as great as his. He was greedy.

“Even when you beg, you look like a goddess. You’re my angel, but I’m not gonna let you go to heaven. We’ll sin together in hell.”

He dove in, tongue swiping away your juice in a practiced move as you howled at the suddenness of his attack. Your thighs held his head captive between their plump flesh, mewls spilling from your mouth without restraint as he finally gave you what you wanted. You pulled on his hair, steering him closer to your core that was flaming under his mouth and flooding with pleasure.

“Oh Chris!” You moaned, writhing and trembling. You had missed his beard scratching the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, missed his nails digging in your flesh to keep you steady, missed his tongue poking inside your warm cavern to taste your sweet nectar. Chris never worshiped you like a devotee to the lord. He worshipped you like a man summoning the devil, by spilling blood and leaving marks that stain the soul.

“Look at you go darling, so beautiful” He praised, easing a finger inside you and curling it. You threw your head back, shattering with an orgasm that took your breath away. Pleasure was a feeling you were familiar with, but combined with Chris’s love and anger, it formed the most intoxicating mix that got you dizzy.

He kissed the swollen head of your clit, gently easing you down from your high with praises whispered directly to your leaking cunt. He cupped your pussy, grinding his heels against you as your eyes met.

“Nobody else will touch you here. Or anywhere else for that matter.” He ordered and you nodded, still desperate for him. His cock was red and angry, warm drops of precum leaking over your stomach and you tugged at him, asking to fill you up.

“Chris, I need you inside me. Please.”

He crawled up and laid beside you, jerking you on top of him. Your hands found his chest, lightly playing with his nipples and the spattering of hair there before moving down to cup his hardness and his balls. He jerked at the first contact, closing his eyes as his breath hitched and you smiled at your own effect over him. You could reduce him to a mess just as well he could to you.

Pumping his length, you licked it slowly, lathering it with your saliva. You remembered the day you’d named it Cumstopher Rogers and he’d slapped you with it, making you choke on him until you had to apologize.

“Put me inside you now because if I have to take over, I’ll choose which hole it goes in and you probably won’t like it.” He growled in impatience. You clenched, his threats going straight to your core.

You positioned yourself over him, sinking slowly and gently, feeling every part of him against your spongy walls. With your thighs flush to his, you stopped to just let the feeling of fullness last a little longer. No matter how many times you’d been with each other, the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you never got old. If you could, you’d never be empty.

“All my holes like your cock Mr. Evans. And I? I love it and your butt and your chest and arms and face and everything else.”

You moved at a slow pace, bouncing gently while holding onto his thighs. Taking his hand in yours, you placed it on your chest, asking him to play with your nipples as you rode him.

“You feeling powerful, baby? You feeling good bouncing on my dick?” He asked, pinching a nipple almost to the point of pain. You nodded, leaning down to kiss him as he started thrusting up a little, hitting your cervix when he went too deep. You rolled your belly, clenching your muscles around his length so that his eyes flew open and hands dug into the softness of your butt.

“Oh Chris, I missed this.” You told him, tasting the sweat on his temple. He nodded, his huge arms wrapping around you and pulling you intimately close.

“I missed you too, which is why I will make sure you never leave me. This is not your power move, this is mine.” He darkly murmured and your eyes met his in confusion. He looked at the side and you followed his gaze, mouth dropping open at the camera that blinked at you with a red light on.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You shout, trying to move away when he rolled you over and under him, thrusting in hard.

“Oh yes, what the fuck baby” He said, holding your wrists as he picked up his pace. “You think it’s okay to pack a bag and leave me every time? You think it’s okay to date other men, to kiss other men? You are mine. And if anyone needs proof of that, now I can show it to them.”

You cried out as he went harder, a pressure building deep inside your belly. Tears escaped your eyes, gazing into blue ones that you loved and hated with a passion. You could have asked him to stop now, you could shout that you don’t want him and he’s sick. But you didn’t. You knew he would stop if you really wanted him to, and as much as your heart broke and your chest tightened with hurt, you loved him. You loved his twisted ways to keep you with him. You loved it when he went above and beyond, got crazy in his desire for you. You were wanted. You were cherished.

“Fuck you.” You cursed, meeting every thrust of his with a raise of your hips. Your eyes closed, sweat dripping down your body as you let the animalistic part of you take over, screaming and tearing and fucking each other like two people whose only goal in life was to be embedded in the other’s heart and psyche.

“I’d like to see you try to walk out tomorrow after tonight.” Chris said, delivering punishing strokes that were agonizing and titillating, that were fire and ice. You held onto him, leaving crescent shaped scars to join the numerous tattoos across his body. He took you apart, fucked you so good all you could do was say him name and fall in a glittery haze of his presence. He came inside you, filling you to the brim and crushing your body with his weight.

You weren’t leaving, that much was obvious.

Throwing in your clothes haphazardly in the bag, you promised yourself this would be the last time you did this. You will not come back to this house and this bed. Chris and you were done for good. The past few months had followed the same pattern. You both rekindling the dying flame of your relationship, mending the broken hearts and trust until it went back to hell.

There were too many arguments, too much shouting and angry sex. Every time you sat down to talk, it ended with your legs in the air. Your mother was right. He wasn’t right for you. Chris wanted to be your hero and your villain. He wanted you to think of nobody but him. Any friends and family that warned you against him had to be cut off. He’ll dismiss every article the paparazzi published about him but would throw a fit if you so much as smiled at the cashier in the grocery store. He kept you close like a dog on a leash, feeling jealous at the very sight of you talking to any man. You’d wanted to give this relationship a chance, but as of twenty minutes ago, Chris had made sure it was over.

You wondered about taking your pictures, but it was better to stay away from any temptations. This was happening, and as much as it broke your heart, you will not come back to him. Zipping up your bag, you straightened just as Chris stormed inside the room, jaw clenched in anger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, “Put your stuff back. I’ll be damned if I let you leave me again.”

You scowled at him, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. He had no right to ask anything of you, not after what he had just done.

“Fuck off Chris. I am leaving, and you can’t stop me.” You shouldered past him, sadly looking at Dodger who was whining softly as he watched you move. He had seen this happen enough times to know that you’re not coming home.

Chris marched behind you, snatching your wrist and pulling you back to himself. The blue in his eyes was darker, like the sky covered in thunder clouds. You squirmed, pushing against him.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving.” He hissed, looking scary and mad.

“How dare you? After what you did today?” You sobbed, hitting your fists on his chest. He held your jaw, bringing your face closer to him so he could peer into your watery eyes.

“I proposed! I got down on one knee. What the fuck is your problem?” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

You shook your head, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. Is he that oblivious?

“Marriage is permanent Chris” You said, voice suddenly soft. “Marriage is living your life devoted to your partner. We can’t break up and leave and come back again. It’s a responsibility. You and I, we haven’t been able to keep a stable relationship. How the hell will we keep a happy marriage?”

Chris frowned, not liking what you said. He pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his huge arms on either side. You could smell the chocolate and wine on his breath from dinner, his hair all messed up from when he ran his hands through it. On his neck still hung the necklace you’d got him.

“Look at me” He said, pressing his forehead to yours. You breathed deeply, finding it difficult to maintain an eye contact as charged with anger and passion as this one. “You love me, you still love me. It’s all in your eyes. Why won’t you marry me?”

You wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Why did loving him have to be so difficult? Was love worth the fights, the tears and pain and loss of independence? Was loving him enough to keep you going? You were so tired of this back and forth with him. You’d never even talked about marriage before, having been too busy trying to keep any sort of relationship alive. Why would he do this to you?

As your limbs got heavier, you leaned forward and hugged him. You held him to yourself, soaking in his warmth and smell inside you for what would be the last time. You could not give up so much of yourself to sustain this love. Soon enough, there would be nothing more to give and the love would be dead.

“You need to let me go Christopher” You said to him, lips close to his ear. “You need to understand that love is only the beginning. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Please, just let me go.”

Chris hugged you tighter, his head resting over yours and heart beating strong beneath your hand. He was your night, full of twinkling stars and dark mysteries. But dawn was approaching fast, and you needed to bid goodbye to the moon to greet the sun that awaited you.

“Never.” He promised, “You are never leaving me again. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

He picked you up suddenly, ignoring your protests as he carried you back into the bedroom. Kicking your bag aside, he dropped you on the bed, raising a finger to stop you. He took out the ring from his pocket, the very one you had refused this evening and held it to you.

“Put this on.” He ordered and you rubbed your eyes in exasperation.

“No.”

You both glared at each other, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Fighting with Chris had always been a thrill, more often than not ending with wild sex on any and all surfaces in sight. But today you were determined to end it. You’d not let yourself become weak at the sight of his cock.

“Okay then, you’ve left me no choice.” Chris said. He picked up his phone and tapped away on it, doing god knows what. You sighed, getting up and putting your stuff together again, ignoring his presence behind you. Chris threw his phone on the bed, looking stoically at you work. You were just folding the last of your clothes when your phone started buzzing. You ignored it for a minute, but it kept up, almost falling off the table with its vibrations.

“What the fuck” You gasped, looking at the hundreds of notifications pouring in as more followed. You quickly opened your Instagram to see you’d been tagged by Chris.

And she said YES!

Below that caption was a picture of the both of you from a couple months ago, cuddled up and smiling at each other.

Comments and likes from everyone were popping in, and soon enough, you saw your mother’s call. You stared at Chris, utterly in disbelief. What had he done?

“Try saying no now. You’d be the bitch who broke Chris Evans’s heart, the bitch who played him. Try walking in public between people who’d see you only as a slut and nothing more.”

Your world came crashing down. You were not some hotshot celebrity like Chris. You were just a girl trying to live her life the best way she knew how to, and how it ended up entangled with this man you’d never understand. Even if you shouted from the rooftops the truth of today, no one would believe you. Chris’s fans would tear you to shreds, destroy your life with their mean comments and attacks. And your family would not be spared either. They’ll be exposed to a celebrity scandal, dragged through the mud along with your good name.

“Oh god Chris, what have you done?” You choked out, falling to your knees. He came before you, gently caressing your head before kneeling in front of you. Cupping your face, he kissed you deep and hard, countering your hate with his love that hit you like your own kryptonite.

“I told you. I told you I’ll never let you leave.” He breathed against your mouth, pulling you closer. You dug your nails in his arms, hurting him with the hurt he just caused you, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a monster” You said, chest heaving with emotions.

“Yes, I am. But you know what darling?” He said sweetly, “Even after this, you still love me. I am a monster, but I am a monster you created and one you love.”

You ended up on the bed, sprawled underneath him again. Even with icy hate in your eyes, your heart burned with love for him. It was unnatural, it was chemical and wrong. And yet, it was your reality. He was yours, no matter what he did. And you were his, regardless of every protest that you ever made.

“Now, I’ll ask this one more time. Will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking at you like you were all he ever saw.

“Yes” You breathed, watching silently as he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed it. Meeting your eyes, he settled over your body, his arousal pulsing over your thigh. Sealing the deal with a kiss, Chris went to remove your shirt.

“Then let’s celebrate. After we’re done, we can call our families with the good news.”

#chris evans x reader #dark!chris evans x reader #chris x reader #dark!chris evans #chris evans #chris evans rpf

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deluluass · 3 years

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all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions.

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love.

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it.

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on, muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away.

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well).

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!"

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers.

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix.

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't.

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it.

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world.

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.

It disgusted him.

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it.

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways.

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over.

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu.

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy.

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.

"We broke up."

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence.

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted.

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer.

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult.

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.)

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box.

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble.

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed.

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise.

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it.

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends.

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling.

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die.

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted.

Aya held your face with both hands as she stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort."

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed.

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags.

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed.

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way.

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?"

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes.

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze.

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting.

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway.

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium.

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks.

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers.

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation.

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon.

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it.

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner.

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved.

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind.

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate.

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed.

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned.

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here.

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived.

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first.

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled.

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself.

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips.

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?"

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers.

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've.

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you. Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house.

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs.

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit.

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck.

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead.

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples.

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all.

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him.

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again.

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head.

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned. "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you.

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits.

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Note

I just read your Riven fics and ommggg they are so good!! Idk if you are making a part three but I will definitely look out for it! I haven’t started the sly ones but I can’t wait!

Come back to me // part 2

Pairing: Riven x light!fairy

Breath caught in her throat, she felt her hands tremble as her eyes lingered on the envelope on her pillow. The handwriting is in the kind of black that speaks of nighttime dreaming. The letters are so typically Riven - messy and yet she could see the effort behind each and every word - To my Sunshine - .

It’s been a long time since he last wrote her a love note, far too long for her to truly remember what it said. She remembers how it made her feel - hopeful, elated, giddy. That’s all Riven needed to win her over - love notes he’d slip in her books whenever she wasn’t looking.

This time it felt different. The note brought anxiety, fear of what the envelope may hide inside. They barely speak nowadays and when they do, Riven is crude and too often she finds herself crying herself to sleep because of how convincing he is with his act. Sometimes she wonders if he’s acting at all or if that’s who he is with everyone but her and it makes her feel guilty. How can she still be questioning his loyalties?

Shaking her head, she releases a heavy sigh before her shaky fingers pry open the envelope. The paper inside is barely ink stained, a few words written for her aching heart.

“Still Your Asshole”

Chuckling, Y/N covers her mouth with an open palm, glancing at the door to make sure no one is nearby. It wasn’t a chuckle that seemed to stop as it turned into a cackle and that cackle turned into a sob. She didn’t know where the sobs came from, she just knew she couldn’t stop. As if the soul could bleed an ocean through the eyes, that was the enormity of her sobbing.

Screaming into her pillow, Y/N felt the rawness of her pain fully. It had revealed its ugly head and she couldn’t breathe.

Riven may be hers but he isn’t. It takes a moment, a single mistake for him to be uncovered by Rosalind or Beatrix and he’d be taken from her. She’d never get to run her fingers through his brown hair, she’d never get to kiss his lips again or feel his hand in hers. He’d never tease her again, he’d never write her a new note or insist she needs him to teach her to fight. All of it would be gone in a blink of any eye and the severity of that realization choked the light out of her, even if for a little while.

She can’t always be the Sunshine. Clouds will eventually clear, but she needs the little bit of darkness and the sweetness it brings. Even if she’s in pain, even if the sadness threatens to suffocate her, she craves it.

Riven makes her weak, he makes her vulnerable. She never dreamed she could care for a man like Riven, she certainly didn’t wish it, but she does. It’s more than caring for Riven, she’s way past that. Whatever wicked game he played to make her feel that way for him, it worked. She fell in love with Riven and now it’s consuming her.

Wiping her tears, she stashes the letter under her mattress before walking out in the sun. If she can’t be the light, she can at least get the warmth of another’s light.

She lays down on the damp grass, looking up at the sky. She looked at the sky like a man would look at a withered flower in which he no longer sees the beauty he plucked it for, thus destroying it.

This noble heart that beat only for the most tender of emotions had to be subjected to pain to learn the secret of life:

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wrecks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss.

She’s in the abyss now.

“You can’t be here”, and then she hears his voice, pulling her away from the darkness. “Come on”, he whisper shouts as he takes her by the hands and helps her to her feet.

She’s a little dizzy, disoriented by the sudden change in position. His eyes are on her, his face inches away and yet she feels like they’re a thousand miles apart. She doesn’t fight him as he drags her to the greenhouse, closing the door quickly so no one would see them.

“I got your note”, she’s the first one to speak. Riven turns to her with a small smile only for it to fall when he truly looks at her - puffy, red eyes and dry lips aren’t easily mistakable.

He let out a slow controlled breath, “Is that why you cried?” Riven’s eyebrows furrow as he steps closer to her, his hands on his hips.

“I cried because I miss you!” She shouts, her fingers flickering alight and she knows she’s losing control. A shuddered breath passes her quivering lips, “I miss you and I’m worried about you and I hate you.” She says through gritted teeth and Riven can’t help but stumble back, confused.

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, pointing his right index finger at himself, “What did I do?”

Scoffing, Y/N shakes her head. “YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN HERE!” Covering her mouth, she turns away from him. She never told him that she loved him before and he never uttered anything close to it either. She feared looking at him and not have him say it back. After all, why would he?

“You love me?” Riven breathes out, still trying to collect himself. Crossing the distance between them, Riven wraps his arms around her. Pulling her back against his chest, he folds his hands over her abdomen. He’s holding on tightly, like she’s a dream he’s afraid to wake up from.

“You love me?” He repeats in a whisper. Knitting her eyebrows together, she frowns and bites into the soft flesh of the inside of her bottom lip as his lips brush her earlobe.

“Yes”, she leans her head back on his shoulder, relaxing in his arms.

“Good.” Riven whispers and she snaps out of it, slapping his hands until he lets go.

“Good?” She exclaims, her glare deadlier than a blade.

“Yeah?” Riven chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

“I tell you I love you and all you have to say is good?” She deadpans, before throwing her hands in the air, “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah. It’s good, because I’ve been in love with you for about a year now and it’s good to know you finally feel the same way.” Riven shrugs, “But go on. I like it when you’re angry.”

Rolling her eyes, she playfully slaps his chest, “Don’t fucking do that to me!”

“Did you just say a swear word?” Riven’s eyes widen, a grin much wider making Y/N blush.

“You’re really going to nitpick at my language instead of kissing me now when we finally got a moment alone in months?” She raises an eyebrow, tapping her foot nervously.

“I’m actually running late”, Riven wets his lips and yet he doesn’t move away, but closer to Y/N. All he can taste is the cherry chapstick she wore the first time they kissed. That was on a constant loop inside his head.

“We could run?” Y/N tries, but Riven only shakes his head.

“I spent my whole life running. I can’t betray Sky like that. He’s my brother.”

Struggling to inhale, Y/N whispers, “And what am I to you?”

“The love of my life.” Riven blurts out without a second thought as his hands cups her cheeks, “You’re the only reason why I’m never going to give up.”

“You’re saying all the right words and my heart still hurts”, she sniffles, hoping she doesn’t cry again. She’s had enough of crying for a lifetime.

“I wish I could make it better, I do.” Closing his eyes, Riven leans his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am. With all I’ll ever be.” Drawing in a sharp inhale, he holds his breath for a moment to stop tears from forming. “If I were a better man, I’d have let you go.”

“Don’t be the better man”, she croaks, her fingers curling his hair at the back of his head. “Be the bad guy. Just be mine.” And she kissed him. With a devastating sweetness, an innocence - as if this were the first time. Strong fingers curved about her jaw and warmth seeped into her bones, her skin, her soul.

The lips held to hers, reassuringly alive. Riven had reassured her by the strength of his arms surrounding her and the steady wilderness in his chest, beat of a heart not her own.

She was no longer alone in misery. Someone was there, keeping her warm, holding the memories at bay and dangers of the world could no longer get to her. Her lips softened; tentatively, she returned the kiss with all her heart.

Breaking the kiss, Riven’s arms leave her, the warmth going with him. She stumbles, catching her breath.

Riven glances at his phone only to swear under his breath and she knows something’s happened.

“Listen to me”, Riven swallows thickly, “Stay with Stella and the rest tonight.”

“Why”, Y/N frowns, folding her arms across her chest.

“Don’t ask questions, please.” Pecking her lips, Riven takes a few steps back, “If you love me as much as you say you do, go now and stay with the girls. I’ll try to contact you as soon as I can.”

“Riven”, Y/N raises her voice, unnerved and anxious about his behavior.

“Sunshine, please”, his voice softens and she nods, licking her lips. Before she can say a word, he manages a smile, “I’ll come back to you. I will.”

And that’s when he leaves and Y/N does as he asked. But the nagging feeling inside her chest is relentless - something bad is happening and someone is going to get hurt.

Part 4

#riven fate winx saga #riven x reader #riven imagine #riven #fate the winx saga #fate riven #riven x fairy #fate the winx saga fanfic #fate the winx saga fic

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andiboyo · 3 years

Note

greetings,

May I request Prompts 9 , 29 , 23 and 25 for five Hargreeves mi lord/lady

xoxo

@thecollapsingneutron

Mi'theydy would do just fine, but yes! Here it is! And also didn't fully proofread, not sure if it has a specific gender roll or anything but I'm guessing I wrote it in Gender Neutral.

Time will tell (Aged up!Five x GN?Reader)

9. "Shut up and kiss me already."

29. “Are you cold?”

23. “I didn’t know you are ticklish, this is going to be fun.”

25. "Why are you ignoring me?" … "because I love you!"

-----

“Number Five, that is the end of this discussion!” Reginald exclaims.

Five slams his hands down on the table, and stands, now walking out of the dining room.

“Number Five! You were not excused!”

You turn to Reginald, your adoptive father, and raise your hand.

“May I go after him?” You ask.

“Do it fast, he is wasting precious time with his tantrum.”

…. That’s how it all started, that is where you two had your biggest downfall, you went after Five, in hopes of him coming back to the house. But in fact that was the last thing you two did, he offered you both an adventure into the future, who could resist?

“Come on! Just you and me into the future and then we’ll be right back like nothing happened!” He exclaims, a big smile on his face.

Sighing, you look back to the house, and nod firmly into Fives direction, grabbing onto your hand, Five and you march forwards, and into the unknown. You see flying cars, people with different phones, and much more, daring to do it again, you keep onwards until your foot is met with a rock and you trip. The sky was grey, dust was everywhere.

“Five, where the hell are we?” You ask.

“I only went into the future.” He explains, looking around.

“Let’s go back.” You sit up.

“Good idea.” He nods.

Once again grabbing onto your hand, you two march backwards, but Five has a look of worry spread across his features.

“I can’t go back.” He gasps.

“What?” You exclaim.

“I’m trying!”

Letting go of his hands, you go back to the, would be, mansion that you all were just in, it’s broken, demolished down to the very earth it came from.

“Luther! Vanya! Allison??!” You yell.

“(Y/N)...” Comes Five’s voice, it’s a whisper.

Turning around, you walk in his direction, seeing bodies, your stomach relches as you see the owners of them, It’s everyone, they’re dead.

“Five, please tell me that’s not who I think it is.” You explain.

“It’s Luther, yes, he’s holding something.” He explains, opening his dead brother's hand.

It was an eye, bloody, and looks to be from Luther's doing. Five puts the eye in his pocket and stands, meeting your gaze. He looked apologetic, this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t roll the dice, didn’t mess with time.

“Five, it’s okay, we’ll make it through this, we have a whole city that possibly has food in it.” You look around,seeing rubble for miles.

You were breaking, slowly trying to get hope, but all the hope was demolished in seconds.

“Come on, let’s see if that’s true.” He grabs onto your hand, it’s cold, you didn’t want to move, you didn’t want to be proven wrong, you didn’t want to die.

“(Y/N), come on, please.” He pulls you forward.

“Okay.” You nod.

Your adventure to food didn’t last long, some twinkies, some old meat, and little to no canned items. Night was approaching fast, and it was getting cold, both for you and Five. He’s been noticing your shivering, all the walking you’ve been thinking was for food was actually for some warmth, he wanted to get you both into some heat.

“Are you cold?” You ask him.

“Yeah, you?” He retaliates.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

It’s been 10 years since you both felt like you lost all hope, but in reality, you found a way to live, it was ration making, and very hard, but with travel and the power of teamwork, you two had been in good shape. Cold most nights, but now have food, water, and some jackets for some kind of warmth. You’d been walking for hours, no town or city in sight, and it seemed to you Five had distanced himself for a while, you had made conversations, but he’d dismiss it as time wasting. Screw time wasting, we have no-one here but ourselves! You thought. The rain was pouring down on you both as you spoke up.

“Five? Please. Why are you ignoring me?” You ask, pulling the wheel barrel of food.

“No talking, we need to focus.”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that today. Please, talk to me, what’s going on?” You cried, it’s hard to even get a goodnight out of him now, he’d just go to sleep on his own accord.

Five kept walking forwards, sighing to himself.

“It’s none of your concern.” That was it, your breaking point, you didn’t want to be here, you wanted your family back, you wanted the old Five back.

You let go of the wheel barrel and fell to your knees, a puddle soaking your pants, it was hopeless, everything that you wanted in life could never be achieved, and now, the one you loved most in life was gone too. No mind on his soulless body, he just wanted to focus, focus, focus, but you lost your childhood due to all this focusing. Five turned around, annoyed facial expressions dispersing in the air as he saw your state.

“What is it now- Hey, hey, hey. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry okay? Please, stand up, you’ll get yourself sick in this puddle.” He explains.

Hard sobs escaped your lips, you couldn’t breathe. His hands wrap around your body, pulling you two closer, he sighed into your shoulder, as you cried into his.

“Because I love you.” He whispered.

“H-Huh?” You hiccup.

“You asked me why I’ve been ignoring you. It's because I’ve been feeling something towards you, I just want to protect you though. I got us into this mess, and the logical reason was to not act upon it until we escaped.” He explains.

Pulling him closer, you giggle into his shoulder. “You idiot, oh you idiot! I’ve loved you since we were kids!” You sigh.

He chuckled, you two were in the soaking rain, acting like a bunch of kids having crushes towards each other. It was a simple problem, even if you didn’t love him back, you couldn’t leave him, he’s the only person you had left. Moving his hands a little, Five’s hand slides across your waist, and you push back, giggling a little.

“Don’t do that.”

A playful smile dances on his lips as he does it again, causing you to choke a laugh.

“I didn’t know you are ticklish, this is going to be fun.” He chuckles.

Now being pinned to the ground, you two are laughing as the rain pours onto you both. His fingers across your waist, making you laugh even harder.

“Five! I need to breathe! Please!” You wheeze.

“Fine, fine.” He sighs.

Getting up, you look over at the wheel barrel, the food was tipped over.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Five, I didn’t think it would tip over the whole bin.” You panic, standing to go pick up the food.

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s mostly canned anyways, now shut up and kiss me already, you owe me.”

Chuckling, you pull him by his tie, and plant a kiss onto his lips, it’s warm, soft, and tender, full of love.

“I miss them.” He whispers.

“Me too, they’d probably be cheering, or even patting you on the back you had some kind of emotion in you.” You chuckle.

“And I don’t have emotion?” He questions.

“You do, you just show it differently than them.”

Smiling, he picks up the food with you, and you two continue onward, but this time, talking about more things. What was the future going to hold for you both?

#number five #number five x reader #five x you #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x y/n

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tired-beholding-bitch · 2 years

Text

i think i love you (oh, i love you) - Soup Sickfic AU masterpost

no wdym of course I didn’t get attached to a random cheesy au i made up in two hours, ahah... ahaha........

| hold my hand (bring me comfort) [tumblr / ao3] - ~2.6k, (pre-)jonmartin but they’re pining so hard, rated G, hypothetical S1 where no one dies and tma is a romcom, very cheesy sickfic wrote while actually sick so make of that what you will, basically it’s just Martin gay panicking (loudly) and Jon gay panicking (subtly) with soup because what’s a sickfic without soup

«I made you… soup.»

Martin can see that. It doesn’t make the image of Jonathan Sims, his boss who maybe-sort-of doesn’t really like him, standing on his doorstep in jeans and a hoodie and holding a container of - as he helpfully explained - soup, any less jarring.

He abruptly realises he’s still holding a crumpled tissue way too tightly in his fist. There’s snot on it.

It’s disgusting.

He tries to surreptitiously hide it in his pocket. Jon doesn’t seem to notice.

«It’s- you didn’t. Sound well over the phone. I brought soup. Would you- can I come in?»

Martin gets the flu. Jon is kind of in love but doesn't really know how to process all that - lucky for him, Martin is kind of in love too.

| with a love so sweet (in your heart, in your heart) [tumblr / ao3] - ~2.6k , (pre-)jonmartin but they’re there! almost!, rated G, once again hypothetical romcom season 1, Valentine’s Day fic with a side of Tim mingling to get them to just talk to each other, all of this is them sitting on a bench with Martin having a breakdown over Jon smiling

«Does- does the ice cream taste haunted, to you?»

Martin, for the second time this month, isn't completely certain about how he found himself in his current predicament, exactly.

The predicament being, at the moment, the fact he's sitting down on a park bench, eating ice cream with his boss who maybe-kind-of doesn't hate him, actually. On Valentine's Day. And freezing his butt off in the process, because parks are not places to be in February. And also panicking, a little bit, because he might be almost, somewhat, a bit in love with said boss.

Also, that isn't completely accurate, now that he thinks about it.

They go on a date. Somehow, they have no idea it's a date.

| you’ve got my heart bursting at the seams [tumblr / ao3] - ~3.2k , (pre-)jonmartin, rated G, the archival staff has a trivia night at the local pub and Jon spends 3k words denying he has a crush on Martin Blackwood and lying to himself

And he’s… kind. Even though Jon really doesn’t deserve it.

He’ll bring him tea twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, steeped just a minute too long, with two sugars to balance out the bitterness, because he has noticed that’s how Jon likes it best. He’ll take a moment to smile at him, if they bump into each other in the morning when they get in, or in the evening before leaving. Not that he’s often arriving or leaving with everyone else, these days.

It makes something stir in his stomach, small and pointy, uncomfortable in a way not too dissimilar from how swallowing a fishbone feels. It leaves his throat tender, and if he reaches for the cup of tea left on the corner of his desk, lately, Jon finds himself smiling more often than not.

Jon doesn't have a crush on his coworker. Except for how he maybe, perhaps, definitely does.

#tma #tma fic #jonmartin #teaholding #writing #tired writes #writing masterpost #... you know when you write something. and you know you will be coming back to write that exact same thing every time you're sad #very low stakes office romance au??? yes should have guessed i would get attached #i have many ideas so. every now and then one of these will pop up #and it will be put here #there is a series of the same name on ao3 as well #but since they're going to be posted in full here too might as well keep them all in one place #is there going to be any rhyme or reason to any of it? no we dont do that here #kind of an emergency writing blanket for Tired's Sad Hours #love you if you liked them tho <3

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akaashisupremacy · 3 years

Text

Knee Deep in Longing

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo try to pick up the pieces, what does love look like?

Gojo Satoru x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST, PINING, fluff?? exes to friends to lovers (wc: 1.3k)

“You don’t want to be seen around me.” you abruptly pull away, visibly hurt, “Look, I know we’re not seeing each other seriously or exclusively, but you don’t have to act like I’m nothing to you.”

After seeing an elder in the jujutsu community in the crowded streets of Tokyo, Gojo Satoru dropped his hand from your waist. He put some distance between your sides while his shoulders tried not to tense.

Being with Gojo is complicated. He’s your ex-fiancee from a marriage arranged by your families. It’s difficult not to resent him after your clan exiled you after you both broke off the arrangement, while Gojo kept his position.

Ten years after all that trouble, you’re both slowly experimenting with romance. Not that it’s going well or anything. It’s a lot of denials, hesitations and resistance to affection.

“It’s not that!” he exclaims defensively.

“So what is it?” your voice rises. Your fists start to clench.

Gojo’s never been good at commitment. He’s handsome and powerful and boy does he know it.

You knew this would happen. If someone you both knew saw the two of you together, Gojo would deny his involvement with you. It’s not a surprise of course, but it still hurts.

He tries to put his arm around you again. You brush him off.

Your temper is extra volatile today.

You’re ready to walk off when he makes a last attempt to explain himself.

“I want to be extremely private about you. No more repeats of our engagement.” he blurts out, “Everybody knew everything about us. They talked when they saw us with anyone outside of each other. They speculated about your dignity when we broke up. They continue to talk about you like an outcast.”

“I felt like I didn’t know you outside of what people thought of you anymore.” he murmurs. “I can't undo my mistakes and I’m trying to keep myself from repeating them. But I’m new to do this and I don’t mean the mistakes I’m making…”

He can see the gears in your mind turning, considering each word that falls from his lips.

“Don’t leave me, please?” he swallows in quiet desperation.

You’re taken aback by his tone. It’s muted, humble and pleading, everything that Gojo is not.

He reaches out both hands to you, with the slightest of tremors.

When you take his hand, he almost sighs loudly in relief.

“I’ll make this up to you. We can make out in the Shibuya crossing—“ he says half seriously.

“It’s ok,” you wave dismissively, “You’re forgiven.”

You squeeze his hand to reassure him. He smiles a bit more.

Exploring your relationship on our own terms outside of your with familial expectations is tough. You both have scars from your past lingering between you. Gojo is right. Mistakes will be made.

You both slow down the pace to enjoy the city, his hand tightly clutches to yours. You stop by Ueno park to view endless paths of cherry blossoms at full bloom. The air is a little crisp yet not too cold for early spring.

Every gust of wind that blows by comes with a gust of cherry blossom petals.

“Our first cherry blossoms,” you murmur.

“I wouldn’t say ‘first’ necessarily,” he chimes in, “We’ve had quite a few strolls under cherry blossom trees when we were younger. Maybe the first without all the resentment.”

He quirks his brow and turns to you.

“What’s that for? I thought you said you’d forgiven me for that?!” you put your hands around your hips. He doesn’t say anything, but he grins widely.

—————————————————————————————

“Do you think dating would be more romantic if we were younger?” you muse, referring to your earlier outburst, “Dating as adults so boring, it’s a lot of trauma processing and all that jazz.”

After spending the afternoon at the park, Gojo offers to drive you home. The walk along the park was surprisingly romantic and you're still a little high from your time together.

Gojo had his arm around you and you even shared a kiss before the drive back. It fills you with giddiness every time you think back to it.

“No.” he flat out answers.

“Why not?” you turn to him, curious at the swiftness of his reply.

“Because…” he sighs with his eyes trained on the road, “my earlier relationships felt like they were victims of my hormones or circumstances. Like the reason why I was attracted to them was because they were the only people I saw around.”

“I want to see you because I choose to see you…not because there’s no one else.” he adds, “It feels nice to know that you probably have other prospects, but you chose to spend today with me. Just because.”

The hint of vulnerability does not escape you. You uncross your arms.

“All I’m saying is that there’s a loss of innocence and a sense of wonder when we age, y’know?” you shrug, with a small smile.

Gojo finally turns to you.

“Today was kind of dreamy though,” he murmurs, “We’re not 15 anymore, but there’s still a certain magic to life don’t you think?”

You both pause to reflect. The car enters into prime Tokyo traffic, the remnants of your walks now behind you. You glance at the city lights. The day is ending too quickly.

“Now is good,” he adds.

Gojo turns on the music the rest of the drive. You make small talk and flirt here and there. You make a joke, he shoots back, the usual. When you finally reach your apartment, you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“See you around,” you nod.

“I’ll call you.” he replies. You snort. Sure.

“What's with that?!” he exaggerates his aghast expression.

“I will call you.” he insists, “I’ll even call you when I get home.”

You look at him skeptically. Although you and Gojo never formally dated, you knew that he wasn’t great at keeping promises and much less so with calling back.

Today’s adventure was great, but you don’t expect much follow up after that, at least not consistently. He’s more of a sporadic caller if anything.

“Bye,” you sigh, reaching for the door.

He stops you from getting out of the car by grabbing onto your forearm. He leans in for another kiss. This time longer and more passionate than the one you shared. His hands don’t wander, instead he places his hand on yours and interlaces your fingers. His lips are warm and his touch tender.

There was something emotional about his gesture, like a longing that has been shoved aside now fulfilled at last.

When you’re both done, he looks flushed, completely smitten.

“I want you right now.” he whispers in your ear, leaning in again.

Your face momentarily gives away your consideration of his proposition.

You quickly hold up your hand, “Then that should give you more incentive to call.”

You get out of the car hearing his faint snort. He watches you disappear into the darkness.

In less than an hour, your phone rings. You pick it up without looking, unsure whether it was work or Gojo.

“Whats up?” you instinctively answer.

“You told me to call and so I called.” Gojo says.

You stand completely still in your room. He’s silent on the other line, as if waiting for you to pass judgement on him. He actually did it. He actually called you back.

“Are you ok?!” you blurt out, baffled by his follow through.

He lets out a chuckle, “Of course, I’m the best I’ve been in a really long while.”

Gojo listens to your amused reaction. He can see your eyes crinkle and your lips pressed together into a smile--it’s his favorite part about seeing you. Watching you sincerely be happy around was something he thought he would never crave, yet here he was knee deep in longing.

“I’m mostly good,” he thinks to himself, “Just a little too in love with you.”

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

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check out the other parts!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! Or write down some comments about your feelsssss

Series Taglist: @tokyo-love-hotel @samkysnks @herownescape@cherrianne192 @shamelessdonutsludgebanana@kageyamakock@shirostrbl @luvang3l @cloudsinthecosmos@httpjungoo @saturnki @itstheee-ha-chan @gucci-froggy @soy1melk @dora-the-grownup @cherryonigiri

If you’d like to continue being part of my taglist (JJK or Haikyuu), please let me know! I also write oneshots for both fandoms and soon I’ll be doing BSD too!

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo imagine #gojo scenario #gojo satoru scenario

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

A box with a letter comes to the attic. “Dear Deucey, I hope you’re doing well. I’m sad you can’t be home for your birthday this year, but I decided to send along your gift. I think it will look great on you. Good luck with your studies, dear. I’m cheering for you!” - Love, Mama ♠️ Inside the box is a chick themed hoodie.

***Mild spoilers for Deuce’s Birthday Suit Up! card, Wish Upon a Star event, and chapter 5.***

Deuce set down the letter and eagerly tore into his mail. Tucked inside was a yellow hoodie with a white chick on it, and little orange feet along the hem. The hood sported an orange visor, which mimicked a beak, and little eyes, forming a face.

“This is...”

DING!

His phone went off, causing Deuce to jump. He fished his device out to check notifications—and his face brightened when he was greeted with a photo of a steaming plate of omurice and a warm message.

Happy birthday! I made your favorite to celebrate! - Mom

Deuce’s smile was broad as he wrote a message back: Looks good! 🤤 Wish I could have some. Oh and by the way, got your package just now. The chick hoodie looks nice and fluffy. Thnx for thinking of me, mom.

He sent the text—and for a moment, three dots danced along the screen, indicating that his mom was in the middle of typing a response. A pause. Dancing. Pause. More dancing. Probably stumbling around on the keypad again.

His mom’s phone was an older model, and a bit laggy. It had taken several smacks with his fist to “fix” it before he departed for Night Raven College, but Deuce supposed a good hit wouldn’t be a permanent solution.

Don’t worry, mom. I’ll call, we can talk then. - Deuce

He glanced at his ongoing party, at the people head banging and arm flapping to the Chicken Dance, at his senpai passing out cupcakes. Surely he could get away with being a little bad and sneaking away for a few moments.

Deuce draped the hoodie over an arm, ducked, and scurried out of the attic and into a dusty old hallway. As decrepit as it was, it was also quiet as an ancient crypt. Ideal for a phone call.

He sighed with relief and whipped out his phone, punching in a familiar number. It rang only once before she picked up.

“Deuce? Deuce!! Happy birthday, sweetheart!!” His mom exclaimed—skipping right past the hellos and how are yous. Straight to the point.

“Hey, mom. Thanks again for birthday wishes and the present.” Deuce clutched the phone hard against his cheek. She sounded so close, almost as though she were right next to him. “Are you... are you and grandma holding up okay?”

“We’re fiiiine! A little empty nest syndrome never hurt anyone. Come summer break, we’ll see you again. Don’t you go worrying about us now. You should worry about yourself and your studies, having fun with your friends, that kind of thing.”

“I guess you’re right... I just can’t help but think of you guys. I’m doing my best with my studies but... I miss home sometimes, too.”

“Home misses you too, dear.” His mother’s voice had become a whisper. “It’s normal to feel this way, isn’t it? Because you’re growing up and changing every day.”

“... Am I?”

“Yes! I can tell. Mother’s intuition.” She shook with laughter on the other end. “The way you talk is a little different. You’re more sure of yourself—and you’ve done so many amazing things. You made wishes come true at the Star Sending, you danced on a big stage. Why, just the other day, you were telling me all about your fancy Unique Magic, too! You were so excited.”

“I guess I was,” he confessed, flushing with embarrassment. “Erm, sorry for shouting your ear off during that call. I got a little carried away.”

“It’s alright. Finding your Unique Magic’s a big step to adulthood. You should be proud—just like Mama’s proud of you, Deuce.” She sniffled. “You’re becoming such an upstanding young man.”

“Mom...”

Hot tears prickled Deuce’s eyes, blurring his vision. He bit them back. His fingers, a vicegrip on his phone.

“... Deuce?”

“Y-Yeah, mom?”

“I don’t want to keep you from your party for too much longer, so I’ll make this quick.” Tender was her tone. “I know I say this every time we talk, but... Good luck with your studies. Your mom’s cheering for you, okay? I love you very much.”

“I love you too, mom.” Deuce sounded hoarse as he choked back tears. “Thank you... Thank you for supporting me, and tell grandma I said hi!”

“I will. Please, have fun with your friends. I’ll talk to you another time, sweetheart. Bye-bye!”

Click.

Deuce stood in that musty, dank hallway, staring at his phone screen like an idiot. Then the tears finally spilled over onto his face.

He sobbed into the chick hoodie.

#Deuce birthday takeover #spoilers

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years

Text

pasta & posies

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical Warnings: Language, food Word count: 1818

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil loves his husband, but he’s pretty darn sure today is not their anniversary. So why the flowers?

Notes: Day 1 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.

Virgil had just set a pot of water to boil on the stove when he heard the front door unlock and Logan clearing his throat as he stepped in, just like he did every time he arrived home. Virgil was pretty sure Logan didn’t realize he did it; he had no plans of telling Logan, in case he tried to break the habit, because Virgil thought it was kind of ridiculously endearing and didn’t want him to stop. Then again, most things about Logan were that way, so maybe Virgil was just a sap.

“Hey, babe,” Virgil called. He glanced at the clock on the microwave; as usual, Logan was home from work right on time, practically down to the minute. Virgil appreciated the fact that Logan was a creature of habit more than he knew how to put into words. The familiarity of Logan’s routines was a regular source of comfort to him.

Logan appeared in the kitchen doorway, smiling, something green and purple in his hand that Virgil vaguely registered but didn’t focus on. “Hello, dear.” He set down his briefcase—and god, Virgil was never going to be over how hilariously on-point it was that Logan had a fucking briefcase, not now after seven months of marriage and probably not ever—and crossed the room to kiss Virgil hello, his free arm easily sliding around Virgil’s waist and holding him close as gently as he had the first time they’d kissed.

Logan lingered in the kiss for longer than usual, though it stayed soft and sweet. Not that Virgil was complaining about any of that. He wrapped his arms a little more securely around his husband’s neck, rising up on his toes so his head was at a more comfortable angle.

Logan smiled and broke away at last, only to tip his head down and press his forehead against Virgil’s.

“You good, L?” Virgil asked, half laughing, reaching up to caress Logan’s cheek.

Logan nodded, humming assent. “I love you,” he said simply. He stepped back. “These are for you.” He offered the thing he’d been holding, which turned out to be a bouquet of purple flowers.

“I—thanks?” Virgil accepted the flowers, blinking down at them. Had something happened to prompt this? “I love you too.”

Logan nodded, leaning in to kiss Virgil’s cheek. “How can I help with dinner?”

“Uh, can you chop… things?” Virgil said, still preoccupied with the flowers. Was today something specific? Had he forgotten something?

“Certainly.” Logan pulled out a cutting board and knife. “We’re having that pasta salad you like, correct?”

Virgil nodded. “Mmhm.” October sixteenth… there wasn’t anything special on October sixteenth, right? Right?

Logan rummaged around in the fridge, pulling out cherry tomatoes and a bell pepper and the second half of a can of olives. The olives were stored in a reusable container, because Logan had casually rattled off the health risks of leaving food in open cans the first time he’d seen Virgil do it, and the next weekend Virgil had dragged him to the nearest slightly pretentious suburban outlet mall to buy a whole kitchen’s worth of storage containers.

Logan rinsed the tomatoes in a small colander and glanced over at Virgil, who was still standing in the middle of the kitchen staring at the flowers in his hands, mind racing. (Virgil couldn’t think of anything he was forgetting about today, but then, that was the thing about forgetting, wasn’t it?)

“I do not believe we own any vases, which I should have thought of; I’m sorry—but I think we have some jars on the top shelf that we could put those in,” Logan said. He reached up with one hand to the shelf in question and pulled down a jar, proffering it.

“Sure thing,” Virgil agreed, accepting the jar, in the back of his mind appreciating that Logan had clearly assessed his distress and tried to help, even if he’d misread what the actual problem Virgil was having was. “Cool cool. Cool cool cool. Um.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, set down the colander in the sink, and turned to give Virgil his full attention. “Is something wrong, dearest?” he asked, bringing the unspoken out into the open.

Virgil chewed on the inside of his cheek for only a beat. “Uh, how come you got me these?”

“The color reminded me of you,” Logan said, and Virgil began to relax. “And I believe flowers are considered a traditional anniversary gift,” he added, and Virgil panicked again.

Anniversary? It wasn’t their anniversary, right? Right? No, it definitely wasn’t. So what on earth was Logan talking about?

But Logan seemed to think this was all the explanation that was needed, turning back to the counter and beginning to slice the tomatoes in halves.

Virgil bit his lip and set the flowers down on the table so his hands were free to fill the jar with water. He set that down, too, and went to the cupboard to pull out a large bowl for the dinner to go in; he set it down on the counter beside Logan.

“Thank you, dear,” Logan said absently, transferring the small pile of tomato halves he had already accumulated into the bowl.

“Mmhm,” Virgil mumbled, heading back to the table and beginning to arrange the flowers in the jar. He had to snip quite a bit off of the long stems in order for them to sit properly in the jar, but after some shuffling, they didn’t look too bad at all.

Logan had gotten started on the bell pepper by now, and the pot on the stove had steam leaking from beneath the lid, hinting at the boiling water inside. Virgil pulled out the bag of dry pasta and the salt and began adding them to the pot.

“Hey, Lo?” he said cautiously, stirring the pasta in the pot.

“Yes, dearest?” Logan didn’t look up from the pepper he was dicing.

“Our anniversary—our wedding anniversary—is March 25. Right?” Virgil reached up and set a timer for the pasta on the microwave. They had been married at sunset in the garden outside the museum that they went to on their first date. Virgil had worn a black suit with a blue vest and tie, and elaborate black eyeliner reminiscent of a masquerade mask filled in with blue and purple eyeshadow, and Logan had worn a white suit with a purple shirt and bowtie.

“Yes, dear,” Logan agreed.

Virgil held back a sigh of relief that he hadn’t somehow totally misremembered. “And our boyfriends anniversary is December 6.” He had been the one to ask, nearly five years ago now. He had no idea he’d gotten the words out, sitting at a tiny table in the coffeeshop and holding hands across it as their third date drew to a close, but he’d somehow stammered out the question, and Logan had lit up and nodded so hard his glasses had slipped down his nose and nearly off his face before Virgil reached out and caught them.

“Yes.” Logan smiled to himself.

“And our first date was on November 13, and we got engaged on September 30. Yeah?”

Logan nodded. “All of that is correct. What—?”

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Okay, so this is probably totally stupid and obvious and I should know it already—”

“No, hey—” Logan began to protest.

Virgil forged on anyway. “—but what the fuck is it the anniversary of today?”

Logan blinked. “Oh.” He set down the knife beside the now fully chopped pepper.

Virgil cringed. “I know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“No!” Logan interrupted. “No. I’m sorry for making you anxious, dear. I forgot. I don’t think I ever told you.”

That… was unexpected, and Virgil couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. “Uh. Never told me what?”

Logan glanced away, looking flustered. “I—well.” He looked back and reached over for Virgil’s hand, squeezing gently. “Five years ago today, I realized I loved you.”

All Virgil could do was stare for a moment, his chest filled with something achingly sweet at the sight of Logan’s earnest face, dark brown eyes searching Virgil’s as he clasped his hand reassuringly.

“Oh,” Virgil choked out, reaching for Logan’s other hand and squeezing back, feeling a smile stretch across his face. “Yeah?” He reached up, taking one of Logan’s hands with him, and caressed his husband’s cheek.

Logan glanced away again for a second, biting his lip, then brought his gaze back to Virgil’s. “Yes. I—I wrote it down. In my Notes app. And this year I set a reminder for it on my phone.”

Virgil let out a tiny laugh. “You did?”

“I did.” Logan nodded, a smile creeping onto his own face. “It was important.”

“You are such a nerd,” Virgil said, his voice shaking with emotion. He moved forward until the toes of his purple converse almost bumped into Logan’s plain black work shoes and reached up to wrap his arms around Logan’s neck. “I love you so much.”

Logan wrapped an arm easily around Virgil and cradled Virgil’s cheek in his other hand. “I love you too,” he murmured, his expression soft and tender and open and just for Virgil and perfect.

Virgil leaned up and kissed him, cupping the back of Logan’s head in both his hands and drawing him in closer as Logan kissed back, marveling yet again over the fact that Logan was his husband and he had somehow gotten lucky enough that this was the everyday they were creating together, this was the thing that was going to be ordinary for the rest of his life, and he was pretty sure he would never get enough of Logan and his thoughtfulness and the way he worked so hard to be vulnerable with Virgil and the way he kissed Virgil and his curiosity and passion for learning new things and everything about him, he was Virgil’s favorite everything and Virgil loved him so much—

The timer on the microwave went off, startling them both.

Logan was the first to start laughing, and that set Virgil off, pressing his face into Logan’s shoulder and giggling helplessly as Logan reached over to turn off the timer and then the stove, his other arm still holding Virgil close.

Virgil collected himself, gasping in a breath and forcing the laughter back into a fond grin. He pressed another, quicker, kiss to Logan’s mouth, then pulled away and reached for the potholders so he could drain the cooked pasta.

As Virgil set the now-empty pot back down on the stove, Logan touched his elbow to get his attention.

“Hm?” Virgil said, turning to face him.

“You are a wonder,” Logan breathed, pulling him close again and simply hugging him.

Virgil grinned, reaching up to touch Logan’s cheek and gazing into his eyes.

He had picked a pretty good person to build forever with.

#analogical #analogical week #analogicalweek #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts logan #ts virgil #romantic analogical #ts fic #ts fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #language #food #peregrin's starlight universe

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

if the world was ending | mitch rapp

word count; 5152

summary; mitch broke up with you because he couldn’t handle being in love again, and now he regrets that decision, and would do anything to take it back.

notes; this is a song fic, but I didn’t include all of the lyrics, so don’t send me asks about missing chunks, please! check out the song!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex.

I was distracted, and in traffic I didn't feel it when the earthquake happened, But it really got me thinkin' Were you out drinkin'? Were you in the living room Chillin', watching television?

His key would continuously seem to miss the lock on the door, and Mitch let out a low growl, shoving at the metal once again as he tried to force the lock to work, blurry eyes and exhaustion taking him over. Before he could question it, the door was opening from the inside, metal shifting and gears clicking before the wood was moving from his sights to reveal you instead, a bright smile on your face and one of his black henleys on your shoulders, hanging slightly loose around the open collar as it faded away into a pair of sleep shorts and fluffy socks clad on bare legs.

You were a sight for sore eyes, messy hair and teasing grin, and all.

“You didn’t even check who it was, what if I’d been an intruder?” He chastised, stumbling forwards one tired legs and pressing a kiss to your lips, humming happily as you pressed back into him just as eagerly, before he was kicking the door shut behind himself and dropping his bag down by the front door.

“An intruder with a key?” You raised your brows at him, his lips flicking up at the sides as his shoes followed; phone, wallet and keys all being discarded onto the side unit, and his eyes were locking onto the couch, joy filling him at the idea of laying down. “Not that you know how to use it, apparently.”

“You try using a key after six days in Russia with no sleep and having to fight, like, four people at once. Everything hurts.” You placed a hand on his chest to stop him in his movements as he edged toward the couch, a whine falling from him as he turned to look at you.

“You’re covered in blood, you’ll ruin my cushions, you need to wash up first.” He let out another sigh, despite knowing that it was a true and fair request, and nodded his head. “How about I run us a hot bath? I’ll put those bath salts in that make your muscles all tingly, and I’ll wash your hair for you.”

He nodded, a wave of serenity already washing over him simply at the idea that he’d get to relax in the warmth of the water, his back pressed to your chest as you wrapped around him from behind, holding him close. You were always so good at making him feel safe when he came home, and he knew it was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you in the first place. What was intended to be a simple fling to satisfy the cravings for basic affections and the lust deep in his gut had become much more.

He had a key to your apartment, and the cat the roamed the halls was friendly enough to bump its head against his shins and purr. He’d met your friends, and knew the names of every worker in that Thai place down the street that you loved so much, and they knew him. It had been so easy to slip into something more deep and meaningful with you, but there was still a clawing guilt in his stomach every time. The true intentions he’d had that night when he’d bought you a drink in a shitty bar while you wore a tight dress and danced under low lights, not to woo you and love you but simply to find a quick fuck, someone to warm his bed and quash the loneliness for a little while.

He hated that he couldn't give you what you needed, that he wasn’t able to love you, because he just didn’t know how anymore. Every time he came home and went to your place instead of his, the key he held and the emotion in your eyes every time you looked at it, it was only a matter of time before you said those three little words to him that he couldn't say back, and everything he so deeply craved would come crashing and burning down at his feet once again. Warmth would shift to icy chills and he’d have locked himself out once again, because commitment just wasn’t something he was capable of anymore.

The water was running, gentle hands skimming up his sides as you helped him to undress, his own hands working over soft skin as he pushed your clothing to the floor, mouths melding in soft kisses, fingertips leaving goosebumps over flesh as you embraced one another’s touch once again, and even with the respite from his guilt that your presence provided for him, it was still always there. A pit in his stomach that was growing bigger and bigger, because as the tender moment stretched on and on, he knew tonight was going to be when you said it, full of bliss and joy and expecting to hear the phrase back, and so he kissed you, deeply, willing you not to, so that he could selfishly claim just a few more hours with you before it was all over.

It's been a year now Think I've figured out how How to let you go and let communication die out I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine

Pressing his forehead against the side of the plane, his eyes fluttered shut for a second, the painful ache spreading over the entirety of his body was enough to make any other grown man cry, but that wasn’t the cause of the burning behind his eyes today. Today, Mitch had the painful reminded of this day a year ago when he’d been on his way to see you, but he didn’t quite have that luxury anymore. His throat was tinging, choking back the emotions he held, one’s he so wanted to release, and his nostrils flared with a deep sigh instead.

“You’re been pouting like a child all fuckin’ day. Will you cheer up? You’re ruining the beer I’m anticipating when I get home with your foul mood.”

He cracked his eyes open, hoping they didn’t appear as glassy and red as they felt, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat, scowling at his mentor in hopes that he’d lay off. That tactic clearly hadn't worked, however, because Stan shifted a little more in his seat, dragging a curious gaze over every inch of his face in a way that made Mitch squirm in his seat a little, uncomfortable at the scrutiny he was being afforded.

“You look depressed.”

“That’s because I’m stuck on a plane with you.” He muttered, moving himself to look out of the window instead, and his mentor barked out an amused laugh, but Mitch could still feel his lingering stares.

“No, I think you’re freaking out about what happens after you’re no longer on the plane with me.” He hated that Stan could read him so easily, that to everyone else he was a safe that was locked up tight, and that it was so easy for the other man to crawl under his skin, get on all of his nerves and be one of the only people who truly knew him. “You weren’t even this on edge and tense when we were on our way out, never mind coming home.”

“I just don’t like going home to an empty house, okay? It’s too quiet. Cold.”

He grumbled the words out, but Stan scoffed, and was fixed with a harsh glare in return, but he didn’t flinch like Mitch wished he would, seemingly unaffected by the burning stare. “And who’s fault is that, huh?”

Mitch opened his mouth, gaping a little, before snapping his jaw shut tightly, feeling the muscles twitch and tense as his teeth ground together. He could feel the divet between his brows, where they had puled together, a spot that always formed when he was angry or confused or concentrating, and he could still feel the warmth and weight of you sinking down into his lap while he wrote up his reports, your thumb smoothing over the spot, followed by a brush of your lips as you told him to relax.

The thought made his eyes sting once again, and he cursed a little under his breath, giving in at the stares they were sharing as he cowered out, blinking forming tears away quickly. “I don’t get what your problem was. You clearly care about her. Why can’t you just tell her that, and stop sulking? It’d do you good o have her back, I liked you better when you weren’t sulking and single. Less of a bitch to work with.”

“You’re a bitch to work with.”

“What are you? Five?”

He knew it had been a weak response, and he cringed a little on himself, sinking down further into the plush leather of the plane seat and trying to sift through his thoughts, something that Hurley clearly acknowledged, because he waited patiently but expectantly in silence, running a hand over his jaw as he watched Mitch try to gather his thoughts up and sort himself out. “It’s not so easy to just say. It’s complicated.”

“It really ain’t.” Stan shrugged, something about his tone making Mitch feel like he was about to get some kind of fatherly advice, and his curiosity got the best of him as he peered over at his superior. “I’ve heard you say that word before. Heard you say how much you love beer, how much you love beef dumplings and noodles on a Friday night, how much you love knocking cocky recruits on their ass.”

“Saying I love food is not the same as being able to say I love (Y/N).” He hissed, hopes dropping as he realised the statement wasn’t going to be useful, but Stan smirked at him wickedly, shrugging his shoulders and sipping his drink.

“Yeah, well, you just said it.” His face twisted up, moving between several different expressions, before a slightly nauseated shock was what he settled on, as he realised that the words he’d never been able to say aloud before, or even internally acknowledge, had finally been voiced for the first time. In front of Hurley, of all people. He was never going to be able to live this down. “Now, why can’t you say that to her?”

“Because everyone I’ve ever loved before has died, Stan.”

He could see the shock flick across the older man’s face, and it brought him a sick kind of amusement to know he’d caught him so off-guard, but then he was shrugging, and again moving back to that irritating level of passive smart-ass that only he had managed to master so effectively. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have the same training you did before now, did you? You’re not even thirty. You gonna’ spend the whole rest of your life miserable and unhappy just because of a car crash and a shooting, both of which were beyond your control?”

A dull aching in his chest flare dup a little at the mentions of those events, but he knew it was true, and his body deflated with the breath he let out as he gave the weakest rise and drop of his shoulders that he could, his hands clasping over his stomach as he turned to stare out of the plane window. A large hand found his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly, but he didn’t bother to look over.

“Just stop being a dumbass, you clearly love this girl, so why don’t you just get your head out of your ass and go see her?”

Stan wandered away after that, ice clinking in his glass as he handed it off to a flight attendant before disappearing to the bathroom, and Mitch was left alone to wallow in painful thoughts with a stabbing pain in his chest as his heart continued to long for you.

But if the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over and you'd stay the night Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant If the world was ending You'd come over, right? The sky'd be falling and I'd hold you tight And there wouldn't be a reason why We would even have to say goodbye If the world was ending You'd come over, right? Right?

He was sweating, hands clammy with a nervous perspiration that made him feel uncomfortable in his clothes, like he wanted to curl up into a ball, dig a hole in the earth, throw up, or some combination of all three. The walk he’d done was so familiar to him, and yet right now, as he stood before your door, it had felt eerily unfamiliar.

There were definite changes.

Your neighbour’s suspicious cat sat out on the front of the apartment building but did not come over to him, even when he’d called out its name, taking the welcome distraction as he crouched down and held his hand out to it, trying to tempt it into remembering him, into approaching him again, but it hadn't. The small animal had simply stared at him as he stood there, before mewing loudly and running away when he’d taken a fraction of a step closer to the door.

The elevator in the main building was working, it had broken only a few months into seeing you before, and now it was back up and working like it had never been broken. The lights in the entryway were brighter, and the hallways had been repainted, the soft grey that they had once been was replaced with sky blue, much brighter and cheerier, and he remembered you telling him about it while laying in bed together one night, it was the exact colour you’d voted for when the building meeting had taken place to discuss it.

The crack in the framing by your door that you’d never gotten around to fixing was mended, damage done by the previous tenants and he’d always said he would fix it for you, but had then always forgotten to bring the tools he would need for it, and he choked down the regret in his throat as he brushed a finger over it. He knew the route, his feet feeling like dead weight under his body as he’d trudged along the halls, before finding himself here, all but trembling with fear and anticipation outside of your door.

The paper and ribbons wrapped around the flowers in his hands were crinkling loudly with every shake he made, and he took a deep and steadying breath, shaking himself down from head to toe. The rapping of his knuckles on the door felt like it reverberated along his entire body, his heart thumping painfully hard against his chest as he waited, eyes fixed on the floor as he watched warm light spill out from under the threshold and into the corridor, soon blocked by a shadow as he heard the scuffling of your feet along the floorboards.

Breath was stuck in his lungs, a choked sound leaving him as the door swung open, your voice ringing out but dying in your throat as you spoke, claiming that whoever it was that you were expecting - certainly not him - was early, and he dropped his eyes, just for a split second to scan along your body, before he was looking up at your face once again.

So pretty, and if he’d thought the melodic ringing of your voice was enough to end him then he had been entirety unprepared for the sight of you. The little black dress he loved so much was fitted to you like a second skin, a cocktail dress he’d seen you wear so many times before as he took you out for drinks and celebrations, his body flooding with heat. Hair styled up, makeup to perfection, and he would have been just as breathless if you’d crawled out of bed to answer the door but you were stunning, and he hated every ounce of himself for ever letting you go.

His jaw dropped as you stared at him in shock, pain flashing in your eyes before you hardened your gaze on him, an act he’d never wished to have you aim at him and yet he knew he deserved it, and yet the words were burning on the tip of his tongue as every moment he’d ever shared with you flashed before his eyes, swirling in his mind, and pulling one very prominent one to the front.

The last time that he’d almost uttered the phrase to you, the one he was determined for you to hear from him now, even if you no longer felt the same. The last time you’d worn this dress, and you’d taken him with you to celebrate one of your friend’s birthdays, his cheeks heating up as he looked at you, but saw that day.

I tried to imagine your reaction It didn't scare me when the earthquake happened But it really got me thinkin' That night we went drinkin' Stumbled in the house And didn't make it past the kitchen Ah, it's been a year now Think I've figured out how How to think about you without it rippin' my heart out

You were giggling into his mouth, red lipstick smeared across his chin and cheeks as your fingers scratched at the stubble lining his jaw, tongue tangled together as you stumbled into your apartment. The door slammed as it closed, hard enough to shake the walls, but neither of you cared, especially not when you were making such sweet sounds for him as his hands slipped lower and lower across the silk lining your body.

Shoes came off first, his shoes being toed off as you tried to kick off your heels, sinking a few inches further down his body as the height fell away, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to be able to lean over you, keeping his mouth firmly on yours as wet tongues tangled together. You were stumbling through the apartment, tripping over one another’s feet and laughing breathlessly as your hands worked down the buttons on the front of his shirt.

You were pushing the material from his shoulders, blazer and dress shirt falling away to the floor with a distant ‘thud’, the fluttering of material sounding out, and the heat around you both was crawling higher and higher. It was frantic, a night of teasing and longing looks, sipping champagne and cocktails with sly winks and whispered needs. He’d cleaned up for the event, and you’d made it clear before you’d even left just how good you thought he looked, and you were clad in dark black silk with thigh slits and heels and you were enough to bring any man to his knees, and he absolutely intended for that to be his next destination.

He was rucking up layers of fabric in his hands until the skirt was bunched around your waist, making you hold it up, and the closest surface he could pin you to was the counter of the breakfast bar, barely having even made it through the kitchen, and hissed as bare skin found the cool marble. His knees hit the floor, your panties following until the scrap of lace was pulled tight around your knees, but then he was helping you up, sitting you on the surface, letting your lay back as he spread your legs and dived right in.

You were dripping for him, before he’d even done anything but kiss you, a groan slipping from his lips as he all but drooled at the thrill of getting to indulge in the honey that was slick on your thighs. That was where he started, licking up the mess you’d already made of yourself as you squirmed and panted underneath him, letting him tease you with small bites and sucking at your soft skin until you’d growled in frustration, a hand in his hair pulling him closer until you were burying his face into your core, sounds that filled every wet dream he ever had taking over.

His scalp had burned, the scratch of your nails and tugs of the strands and your thighs and hips had been littered with red marks the shape of his fingerprints that would be purple in the morning, but he knew you loved it just as much as he did. Two fingers had slipped into you, scissored and curled as he lapped around them, driving you to the point of senseless babbling just with his fingers and tongue, before you’d exploded around him. Then, he’d fucked you.

Deep and slow on the counter with your arms wrapped around his neck, legs tights around his waist as you clung to one another, a collection of tangled limbs, a moaning mess and you chased your highs, until the two of you had been all but sobbing one another’s name into the other’s mouth as you kissed your way through your peaks, and he’s spattered your thighs and cunt with his arousal, pulling out at the very last second and leaving you trembling underneath him when he’d scooped it up and pressed it to your lips.

It was hot, and erotic, but the moments after had been loving and tender. Taking a shower with weak muscles, sinking to the bottom of the tub together as water thrashed down from overhead, soft kisses and laughs and whispered confessions until the water had gone cold, and you’d collapsed into bed together, leaving a mess t tidy up int he morning, sheets sticking to wet skin as you were too lazy to even dry off, just cuddling together under the sheets, drunk on one another, and the words had been so close that night. A sleepy, post-orgasm haze, he’d so nearly whispered them against your lips as you kissed him goodnight.

I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine But if the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over and you'd stay the night Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant

“I love you.”

You flinched, like you were standing too close to a fire and had been burned, and it felt like a knife twisting in his stomach as he watched your reaction. Your arms came up to wrap around yourself, toes digging into the wood of the floor as you stood your ground but he knew your nervous ticks, he knew you, and he frowned, but didn’t let it deter him.

“I love you so, so much. I’m a fucking idiot, I know I am. I know you hate me, and you’ve probably moved on and can find someone who actually deserves you, but I’m selfish, okay? I wanted you to hear it, I had to tell you, for my own peace of mind. I had to know that I cam here, and had the balls to tell you that you are the person who hasn’t left my mind in an entire fucking year. Every thought, every dream, every time my heart beats, it’s all for you, and I had to tell you.” He took a deep breath, scanning your face for even a twitch, any slight tell of an emotion he could get, but you were offering him nothing. “I couldn’t say it before, I was scared and I didn’t know what I was feeling and I know that I hurt you. It kills me every day to know what I did, to think about your face, and the way you’d cried when I walked out, because it haunts me, okay? A year ago today, I lost the best thing in my god damn life, and I just had to tell you, because in another year, and another ten years, and forever on, I think I’ll still love you then. I had to know that you knew.”

You were staring at him, eyes wide and a little glassy as he took a deep breath, lungs screaming out for oxygen and his mind was finally blank. The incessant buzzing he’d become accustomed to as his mind whirled around you on a loop had finally stopped, and he was left in calm, the aftermath of an event, the silence that came after an explosion, the harmony after a fight when everything just went still.

But there was always more to come.

Only then did the thoughts about what you were wearing catch up to him. Pretty painted lips and sharp eyeliner and that sinful dress that made his blood run warmer in his veins as he burned from the inside out. A quick glance behind you confirmed that there was a pair of black strappy heels to match the outfit, a necklace with a gem that he’d never seen you wear before was hanging between your breasts in the low neckline of your dress, skin soft and freshly shaven on the slit up your thigh on your dress.

He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little, but he tried to offer you a reassuring smile nonetheless. “Date?”

Your brows pulled in with confusion, and he could physically see the walls surrounding you begin to crumble away, before you let out a heavy sigh, your arms dropping as you caved under his faze, finally speaking to him; “No. Drinks with the girls.”

“Ah, right..”

A tepid silence took over, and he tried not to drop his eyes from yours. Soaking up every moment he had with you before you inevitably kicked him off of your doorstep, and you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning on the doorframe. “A distraction. They’re taking me out to cheer me up, because it’s been a year since the best thing in my life walked out on me.”

Mitch felt his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at you.

If the world was ending You'd come over, right? The sky'd be falling while I'd hold you tight No, there wouldn't be a reason why We would even have to say goodbye If the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over, right? You'd come over, you'd come over, you'd come over, right?

A fistful of his shirt, a harsh tug that he wasn’t expected that made him fall over his own feet, and then there were lips on his own. He couldn’t help it, the embarrassingly needy whine that left him the second his brain caught up with what was happening, and he dropped the bouquet to the floor, hands finding your hips as he pulled you into him. Bodies collided, flush and pressed together, your hands circling his neck and fingers in his hair, heat flooding him from where you were pressed to him, and it felt like he’d been cold for the entirety of the past year, goosebumps rising and falling along his skin as he fell back home, into your arms.

Your cheeks were wet as you gasped into his mouth, tongues sliding together, panting from breath as noses bumped. It was urgent and rushed, not the kiss he’d imagined with you if you’d forgive him, but the one that seemed most fitting. Messy and uncoordinated as if you were learning each other for the first time, becoming familiarised once again with every inch of the other, hands roaming and tongue exploring, until you were satisfied that you were thoroughly reconnected.

He let out a wet and hoarse laugh, raising one hand to sit on your jaw and wipe his thumb under your eyes, clearing away the tears that were already threatening to spoil the masterpiece you’d created, and he knew how long it took you to do it.

“Baby, please don’t cry. You’re going to ruin your makeup.”

You let out a laugh, and he cleared your face, stealing a few more pecks as though at any moment you were going to realise what he’d done, go back to hating him, push him away as if this was the last he’d ever get to see you. You were staring up at him, with glassy eyes and the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, and Mitch swore he couldn't even feel the floor anymore, as if he was floating, up in the clouds and lost to the world.

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait right here, until you come back. We can talk, or you can yell, whatever you want. I’ll be here.”

“I‘m not going anywhere.” You pulled him back in, another collection of sweet kisses that he didn’t deserve but would always accept, never willing to give them up again. “I’d rather stay in and watch TV with you, but you have to go and get us takeout. You know I hate walking to get it.”

“I do, I do know that.” He sniffed, breathy exhale like a laugh as he held onto you tightly, before dipping down to collect the discarded flowers from the ground. A few crumpled petals fell away to the floor, but they were otherwise intact, and he pressed them into your hand carefully, watching as you admired them, thumbing at the delicate leaves and bringing them to your nose.

“This doesn’t get you off the hook, you know.”

“I’ll spend the entire rest of my life making it up to you, I swear.” You only nodded, letting him into your apartment as you led him inside, smiles and tears and he dipped down, lips brushing your earlobe as he listened to you gasp in surprise. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Mitch. Even if you are a fuckin’ idiot.” He only nodded, following your lead as you took him by the hand and guided him through to find a vase and water for the flowers. “Go get my phone, I need to text my friends.”

He did as told, trailing through the apartment, bringing your purse back with him and presenting the item to you, his hands searching for your body once again, just needing to hold you and know that it was real, to know that this time, you weren’t just a dream his mind was conjuring up to torment him with.

He didn’t need a night out, he didn’t need you to be dressed up, he didn’t need anything but you. You and him, and the love you shared, it was enough to get him through anything.

If the world was ending You'd come over, right?

#mitch rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp/reader smut #mitch rapp american assassin #mitch month #mitchtober #mitch-tober #dylan obrien #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien fic #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien american assassin #dylan obrien mitch rapp

444 notes · View notes

lovelybnhaimagines · 3 years

Text

Youngblood

Summery: You and Bakugo had just broken up, and you are in pain because of it. Your friends try to make you feel better, but the memories of your relationship haunt you. You didn't know what to do

Notes:Hey guys! I wrote this on the side of my other works. I was listening to Youngblood by 5SOS and was heavily inspired to write this fic. You should listen to it while reading. Or before. Or after. It might be a little f!reader, but I tried to keep in GN

Pairing: Bakugo/Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Unhealthy Relationship

You don’t remember how many days it’s been since you and Bakugo broke up. Your heart still hurts every time you look at the photos you’ve taken. The clothes he left at your apartment still smell like him.

The words that were said still stung. You tried not to think about it.

After mopping in your bed, you got up to see one of your favorite photos on your dresser. You went to the beach with Bakugo.

“Katsuki! Quit moving. If I don’t apply it all, you’re going to get sunburnt!”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He was grumpy. Bakugo didn’t really care for the beach, but he saw how excited you were for the trip, “You sure you want to hang out here?”

“Of course! We can collect seashells, and we can play in the water,” you finish rubbing the sunscreen on his skin. The shade protected you until you ventured out to begin your vacation. Even though he didn’t want to be here, he followed you pretty quickly.

You walked across the shoreline picking up every pretty shell that you saw. You remembered a crab being under one of those shells, and you freaked out, running to Bakugo for protection. He got a smirk on his face, picked up the crab, and began to chase you with it.

“Katsuki, stop it!” You laughed through your panting breath. You knew he wouldn’t really let the crab hurt you, but this is just how he was. One minute he’d be grumpy and unenthusiastic about anything; but with you, it was different. Bakugo was sweet and playful.

He dropped the crab and sprinted. He was faster than you, so he caught up. You were swept off your feet, being held in his arms. You were surprised thus you let out a shriek. It quickly became laughter though.

“That’s not funny, Katsuki,” You hit him on his chest, but he just shook his head.

“Your too cute in your bathing suit for me not to pick you up and cuddle.” You blushed. Though you didn’t know he walked into the ocean until the warm water hit your legs.

By the time you realized, he threw you in.

“Katsuki!” You were playfully mad, and you started to splash water at him.

“This is childish.”

“You’re the one who started it.”

The rest of the day was filled with the same kind of fun and excitement. You ate at so many good restaurants and went to the carnival. He got you a bear to which you said it looked like him. A big ol grumpy bear.

You still had it.

You place the photo back on the dresser, trying to suppress the memory of being with him.

You heard your phone ding, and you saw that it was from Mina.

You still doing ok?

It sucked that she was still in Bakugo’s friend group. So was all of your friends. Even though they would still be friends with him, you didn’t want to lose them.

Yeah, I think so

Well, you want to go out tonight?

Will Bakugo be there?

Of course not! It’ll be just us and everyone else. We just want to cheer you up.

That sounded like fun. It might help you take your mind off of Bakugo. Sending a text back to Mina, you threw your phone on the bed. After a couple of days, you finally took your first shower.

After finally trying to get the depression off of you, you put fresh clothes on yourself. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw your eyes were still red and puffy. There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and you fought back tears already. Bakugo would be here to tell you how sexy you looked. It didn’t matter what you wore. He would tell it to you every time.

Rubbing your eyes, you went into the kitchen and finally ate your first healthy meal in a while, reliving your stomach from digesting terrible food.

For once, you started to feel better.

You met up with Mina in front of the bar. She waved you down. Walking over to her, you gave her a big hug. It felt like an eternity, but it had only been a few days. You gave small talk, mainly telling her you were alright. It was a half-truth and a half-lie.

Walking in, you saw familiar faces that made you smile: Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero.

“Hey guys! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I know. Long time no see,” Kirishima gave you a comforting hug. Kaminari and Sero gave you a pat on the back. You and Mina sat next to them on their left. You looked over at Kaminari, and he looked panicked, like he was scared the world was about to end.

“Hey Kaminari, you’ve missed me that much? Why do you look like I’m about to bite you?”

“Because you are.” A familiar voice that made your heart drop to your stomach. It was Bakugo that came back from what you presumed the bathroom, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Kaminari!” Mina shouted also panicked.

“I thought we were meeting up with (y/n) on another night!”

“No, it’s fine. Me and Bakugo can be civil about this.”

“Yeah, fucking right, you’ll just break down and cry. Just like you did at everything else.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back venomous words. His face made you sick, and you felt like you were about to vomit.

“We can go to another bar!” Mina said trying to save it.

“No, I want to hang out with my friends. It’ll be his fault if we have a bad night.”

“Whatever bitch.” It stung. The Bakugo you knew would never call you that. You guessed people do change.

You both sat back at the bar. It became awkward; no one said anything. The bar tender asked what you wanted.

“A dirty shirley, please.”

“I see you still drink that shitty drink.”

“Why don’t you shut up for once?”

“Guys!” Kirishima interjected this time, “Hey, have you seen that new superhero movie? All Might is such a great character.”

That seemed to steer the conversation away from an argument. You turned to Mina, and the group became segregated. You only talked to her for most of the night, but you could still hear Bakugo’s voice. You missed it so much.

“Thank you for bringing me out tonight Mina; I had a good time.” A lie. You wanted to go back to your apartment and just break down in bed again. Going out was a mistake.

“Yeah,” Mina didn’t sound convinced, “hey, why don’t we go shopping tomorrow? Get away from these boys.” She said the last line jokingly, but a part of you didn’t want to leave the boys tonight.

“Sure.”

“Yay, girls day!” Kaminari jokingly said, pretending as if he was going with you.

“Why would you want to go with her?” Bakugo finally pushed you over the edge.

“Why don’t you get your head out of your ass and act normally?”

“I am acting normally. You’re the one who’s too sensitive. Always upset about something.”

“You’re insulting me! You think I’ll take that lying down.”

“You take a lot of stuff lying down.” You saw red when he saw that. You walked over and slapped him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up Bakugo!” He looked at you. You could tell he was more upset about you calling him by his last name. You quickly walked out of the bar with Mina following you. There was someone else following you.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” It was Bakugo, following you into the street, “Why do you have to hang out with my friends? Oh wait, you’re too much of a bitch to make more friends.”

“I don’t know why they’re still friends with you. You’re nothing but a big dick who doesn’t have a single ounce of empathy.”

You turned around to walk away from the bar, wanting to anywhere but there. The tears were already falling down your cheek. Your voice was starting to crack and waver.

“I don’t even know why you’re still here if I hurt you that much.” You stopped at that line and turned around to face Bakugo. His face was softer, “Tell me to fuck off. You want me out of your life”

You couldn’t. You wanted him to be here with you.

“Or tell me you want me back in your life.” You started to breath heavy, unable to get any words out. You didn’t know how to answer.

“Figures,” Bakugo walked away at your lack of response. You crumbled to the ground, squatting down with your head in your hands. Mina was quick to comfort you; the sound of her high heels brought you out of your anxiety attack.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” She said helping you to stand up. She called a taxi and both of you got in.

The tears finally stopped. You were able to see the passing streetlights on the way back to your apartment.

Mina walked up with you and helped you get ready for bed. She tried to find a t-shirt that wasn’t Bakugo’s, but she was having a hard time. Finally, she settled on this shirt you got from high school. It was a little tighter than it used to be, but it was the only thing you could wear.

“Give me a call if anything happens. I’m only a phone call away. I’ll come get you in the morning so we can go to the mall.” Mina leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead. It was comforting. Bakugo used to do it to you.

She left. For now, she had Bakugo’s spare key to make sure she could check on you.

You rolled around your bed, before you checked your phone. It was apologies from the rest of the group. They thought you would hang out with them another night and should’ve remined Mina. You responded to each of them so they wouldn’t worry about you.

You scrolled down social media and got a dumb idea. You scrolled down Bakugo’s, trying to find something to give you closure. It didn’t. You saw he didn’t even change his relationship status. You knew he didn’t use it much, but it still surprised you that he hasn’t put it to single.

You fell asleep, only to wake up to your phone ring. You must’ve fallen asleep with it in your hands.

It was Bakugo’s number. You’re heart became elated that he called you.

“What do you want?” You said, cursing yourself for sounding a bit to mean.

There was some silence. You could hear people in what sounded like a bar. Bakugo must not have left. You checked the time, seeing that a couple of hours have passed.

“Hello? What do you want?” You asked again, hoping to get a response this time.

“Nothing.” The word was slurred, then the line disconnected.

Your heart deflated. You couldn’t even cry more than you already had that night.

You arrived at the mall. Mina tried her hardest to make you happier. She would take you to a store that sold bath bombs, and you bought some that smelt nice. Ones that didn’t remind you of Bakugo.

Eventually, you ended up at one of Mina’s favorite department stores. It was a nice one, where someone was actually playing a piano in the store. Mina picked out some clothes out and dragged you to the dressing room where she promptly went in to try some of the dresses.

“Isn’t this cute?” Mina said coming out of the dressing room with a sundress on. You nodded in agreement. She tried to give you clothes for you to try on, but her efforts were futile.

She noticed that you still weren’t happy. Going back to take the clothes off, she came back out to clasp your hands in hers, “Why don’t we get some ice cream? We can get wine on the way back to your apartment?”

You nodded your head. You felt bad for staying quiet the entire trip to the mall.

You both walked to the food court and wait in line to get some ice cream. Mina was talking to you (or you should say at you).

In a moment, your heart stopped. You saw Bakugo, and you could say what you wanted to say to him. When you turned around, it wasn’t him.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head at a worried Mina, “It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. You kept seeing him in the strangers around you, causing you to feel like you’ve gone crazy.

You both decided to grab the ice cream to go and grab wine in the convenience store by the mall.

You tried to make small talk, but your words felt superficial.

They felt empty once more.

When you got back to the apartment, you both decided to order a pizza, watch shitty chick flicks, and cuddle under a fuzzy blanket. It was comforting.

So was the wine. Mina got a big bottle of it, and you kept drinking glass after glass.

“Hey, shouldn’t you slow down?” Mina’s voice was full of concern. You shrugged your shoulders in response.

“Maybe I should, but it’s nice,” you said. It finally gave you a nice, fuzzy feeling in your core. It was something other than pain.

Eventually it got too much, the pain came back full force, and you became a crying mess. You fell down into Mina’s lap wailing.

“Why doesn’t he want me anymore? Why does he hate me now?” You screamed. Mina just petted your hair, trying to give some comfort, “I want him so bad.”

“I know baby,” she said; her voice was full of concern, “No more wine for you. I should put you to bed.”

And that’s what she did. Once more, she put you to bed, but this time she stayed with you. It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over and sleep in your bed. The place where Bakugo used to sleep.

Your eyes that were sore started to close. You felt yourself sleep but not dream.

When you woke up, it was still dark. You felt more oriented and aware. The alcohol must have worn off. Your phone read it was around 2AM. You didn’t want to disturb Mina, so you left the bedroom.

When you saw the bottle, you were surprised how much you drank and how you weren’t sick right now.

You sat down on the couch, covering yourself with the fuzzy blanket that was left there.

You took your phone to scroll down your social media feed. There were so many pictures of your friends who were in happy relationships, but you kept seeing Bakugo’s face. No matter what photo, he was there.

The pain kept coming back to stab your heart. You felt like you were bleeding out. You then remembered that Bakugo called you yesterday.

Mina would be so upset, but you clicked his name to dial him back. You kept hearing rings and then voice mails. You kept calling, over and over.

Finally, you got an answer.

“Yes?” He was fully awake and didn’t sound concern.

“I miss you.” Was all you said, then he hung up on you. You expected as much.

“Well, I gotta go to work,” Mina said holding your hands. You both were standing in the archway of the entrance to your apartment, “Will you be ok?”

“Yeah, I will be.” Another lie. Even though she didn’t look convinced, she left. You closed the door and fell on the couch, burying your head in one of the cushions. Instead of good memories like the other day, you remembered the fight that started this all.

Bakugo tried to love on you. He was kissing your neck. You enjoyed it, but you didn’t want it to go where he wanted it to go.

“Hey Katsuki,” you started. He gave a hum in response, letting you know he was listening, “Can we do this another night?”

He got off you and rolled his eyes, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” His voice sounded annoyed. You furrow your brows, getting frustrated yourself.

“It’s obviously not nothing. What’s wrong?” Your voice was stern. Sitting up on the couch, you looked at him with intent. He stayed silent, “Goddamn it Katsuki, out with it.”

“’Out with it’” he mocked you, “Why do you always need to know why I’m frustrated? You should be able to figure it out yourself.”

“Well sorry I want clarity. Is this over sex?”

“Fuck no. I just hate you never thinking about me. You always pry at me when you need something. You need me for this. You need me for that.” He motioned his hands to match his words, “Do you ever ask what I want?”

You didn’t realize that you hadn’t. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care Katsuki.”

“I know you care, but my god isn’t it fucking annoying,” he got up off the couch to storm off. You followed him.

“Where are you going?”

“Isn’t obvious, I’m in the bedroom.” You felt more warmth building in your body, feeling it warmest and tightest in your core.

“I know that, but why are you walking away from me?”

“You want to know everything don’t you. You can’t figure anything out for yourself?” Your mouth slacked open not knowing how to respond. He paced around the room, running his hands through his hair.

“At least I care,” you started shouting, “What’s wrong with you Katsuki?”

“Sometimes I just want to be left alone, but no you have to come follow my ass like puppy.”

You started feeling tears well up in your eyes, “Are you calling me a dog?”

“No, I just-“ He clenched his fists, “You just don’t understand me.”

“I do understand-“

‘No you fucking don’t. You’re only concerned about what you want in this relationship. Maybe I should compare you to a dog, because you’re a bitch!”

“You’re calling me a bitch? Why don’t you look at yourself in the mirror and see what a massive dick you’re being?” Your voice was starting to break. You felt pins and needles in your arms, shaking them unconsciously as well, “I put a lot of care in this relationship. And you’re saying I don’t?”

“You know what, you don’t. I’ve been telling you that you only care about yourself, and look what you do. You’re only concerned about you.”

“Oh my god, you keep blaming me. You’re the one who started this all!”

“No, it was you! You’re the one who chased after me, thinking you could solve this now.”

The tears were now falling down your cheeks, and your jaw started to clench. “I care about this relationship. You think I want this to fall apart.” Your words were said through your teeth.

“Yes, I actually think you fucking do.” Bakugo shouted even more. You’re sure your neighbors were going to put in a noise complaint in the morning, “I do most of the work in this relationship, and you just pretend everything is ok. You didn’t even notice how I was fucking feeling this entire time. You were just in your own little world. You know why, cause you’re a bitch, and you’ll always be one.”

You walked up to him and smacked him across the face; he then grabbed your arms and pinned you against the door, “You think you’re so tough?”

You spit on his face, and that was it. He stormed out and never came back.

You wished you could take it all back. You wish you could do it over.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. You open it to see Bakugo.

“Kat- I mean, Bakugo, what are you doing here?” He looked annoyed and started to lean against the door frame.

“You called me last night. Well, I’m here.” His words were softer than you expected.

“Well, I don’t know what to say-“ you started.

“You’re the one who said you missed me.” He didn’t look you in the eye, “So what do you want?”

You didn’t know what to say. He mumbled something under his breath and started to walk away. You panicked.

“Wait! Don’t go.” You reached out to him. He came back and looked you in the eye.

“What do you want?” he repeated. You swallow the knot that developed in your throat.

“I don’t know.”

“Then it’s over.” He said walking away again. This time, he didn’t come back.

You closed the door and cried about your relationship finally being over for good

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escaping-explosions · 4 years

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Tease - Aizawa Shouta x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, daddy kink, creampie, smut up the ass, teasing, choking, sex toy use, sexting

A/N: I’ve been obsessed with the idea of Aizawa being tortured by his SO and then fucking them furiously so I made it and I definitely wrote it all in one night so there’s probably a lot of mistakes so pls be kind I haven’t written in a long time ;-;

You were about to be murdered. You definitely had the feeling that you were going to enjoy what whatever was coming to you but you were definitely going to die sometime tonight.

Aizawa’s eyes were burning holes into the sheer blouse that settled gently around your shoulders but you paid him no mind, continuing to prattle on whatever ridiculous subject Nezu had requested you speak about. All of Aizawa’s students paid rapturous attention, leaning forward in their seats as you spoke. The thoughts of the number ten hero, y/h/n, were important stuff after all.

“Okay, does anyone have any questions?” your perky voice shook Aizawa out of his stupor. Shame, anger and arousal crawled over his skin in turn as he lifted his gaze to meet your piercing y/e/c eyes. Try as he might, Aizawa couldn’t shake the vision of the filthy fucking photos you had sent him right before you entered his classroom. Unsuspecting of your true intentions, he had opened the files and choked on his coffee. The chatter of the classroom had stilled as a few of his students asked frantically if he was okay. He brushed them off as he scrolled through the photos you had sent him. The first ones had been innocent enough pictures of you getting dressed but the next few were… lewd to say the least. In one, you were flashing the soft dove grey lingerie set he had gotten you for your birthday to the camera, breasts pushed high by the bra. That was enough to make his mouth water but the next photo was you lifting the long, modest skirt you were wearing to show your fingers pressed against your dripping, wet pussy. The lacy thong was dark with your slick and you had evidently been playing with your pussy for a while because your fingers were wet up to the knuckles. He had shivered at the image, cock already getting hard as he yearned to take a taste and it took everything in him not to lick the surface of the phone itself.

The last photo was the true reason why he was currently so feral and why he was rock hard under his black joggers. It must have taken you forever to get the angle right in the mirror but you had bent over, hiked up the skirt and peeking from underneath the lace thong, was a gold princess plug with a red stone on the end. You had taken the photos this morning right before leaving the house and made sure to hit send to Aizawa before you walked in the room just to rile him up. You knew exactly what that would do to him: the thought of you pressing the plug into your ass and then strutting into his classroom like you owned the place. You hoped it would drive him wild and by the absolutely irritated look he had on his face when you walked in, you accomplished your goal and then some.

Aizawa ground his teeth together as hands shot up into the air, clenching his hands at his side. The softness of his pants grounded him reality. He was about to crawl right out of his skin if he didn’t get his hands on you like, yesterday, but these damn brats won’t stop asking questions. He didn’t blame them for being starstruck, you were pretty incredible but lord help him. He instead focused on how your voice sounded as it cheerily and sweetly answered all the inane questions that the brats asked, focused on how your eyes sparkled with pure, liquid evil, focused on how he was going to get his revenge on you later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After class was dismissed for the day, Aizawa had requested that you meet him in his classroom so you could have go home together since you took the bus over.

And, you hoped, for a naughty rendezvous in his classroom.

You rubbed your thighs together in anticipation, the cool, wetness between your legs only hastening your stride. You had been toying with this idea of teasing Aizawa at school for a few months now so when Principal Nezu called to ask if you could speak to the class, you accepted without hesitating. The purchasing of the outfit and the plug were a little difficult since you lived with your boyfriend and his prying eyes but thankfully you had a very deep hall closet where things tended to get… “lost”. The get up for today had been squirrelled away and had been thrown on in a rush as soon as Aizawa had left to teach this morning.

Judging by the thunderous expression on your boyfriend’s face as you entered his classroom, you were going to get exactly what you wanted.

“Hi baby!” You strode across the room and fell into his lap to give him a kiss but he pushed you away. Hurt bloomed in your chest. Was he… That upset about the photos?

Aizawa closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his brows knitted together in annoyance. He inhaled deeply, exhaling through his nose, a clear sign that he was stressed beyond measure. Your heart stuttered in your chest, suddenly regretful and unsure of yourself and your behavior today. Was it too much? It was probably too much.

“I fucking hate you.” You flinched at his words, a cold slap of words shocking you. Your head dropped in shame, the burning spreading across your cheeks and threatening to spill out of your eyes. Damnit, you really miscalculated this one.

“Get on the fucking desk.”

Your head snapped up, shocked as hell.

What?

Black, burning eyes met your gaze when you lifted your head. Aizawa’s eyes burned with fury, desire, and a hunger you’ve only seen a couple times from him. Boy oh boy, did it make you weak in your knees and your thighs squeezed together in reflex. With just with one look, your boyfriend already had you in the palm of his hand, dripping wet to the point you could feel strings of your slick sliding down your thighs.

He clicked his tongue in exasperation. “Kitten, I don’t like repeating myself. Get on the fucking desk or you’re going to be punished even more than I had initially planned.” Aizawa impatiently thumped the surface of the desk with his fingers and you didn’t hesitate to scramble up, crossing your legs as you did so but your boyfriend shook his head at this. “Don’t be shy now kitten, spread your legs so I can see that fucking pussy.” His voice was low, almost a growl as he ordered you to expose yourself to the cool air of the classroom. As he spoke, he smoothed his large palms up your calves. You shivered at his touch, tensing up slightly in anticipation of what was to come. Aizawa slid his hands under your skirt as his hazy black eyes zeroed in on your legs, pushing it up as he caressed your thighs in almost worshipful tenderness. Your heart softened for a second: he was always like this, touching you like you were something precious and delicate.

The soft touches quickly turned rough as your boyfriend forced your legs apart and hooked his fingers into your lacy thong in one motion. His voice hardened as he spoke. “You’re such a fucking slut, Y/N. Coming into my classroom with a goddamn buttplug in, talking to my fucking kids about school when I know all you want is to be plugged full of my fucking cum.” You shivered as you let out an involuntary mewl. Your boyfriend was the best at dirty talk and when he was furious like this, it only increased a hundredfold.

“Oh come on baby,” you tease breathlessly, your pussy clenching as your panties were pulled unceremoniously off. “You know you-“ The rest of your sentence was choked off as your boyfriend brought the completely soaked material up to his nose and inhaled the scent of your arousal. You whimpered, wishing it was your pussy next to his mouth. His tongue slipped out from between his lips and he lapped at the slick that coated the lace trapped between his fingers. His eyes fluttered shut as he could taste how turned on you were.

“What a filthy fucking slut. You’re so wet, look at you.” Without preamble, Aizawa dropped his hand to between your thighs and shoved two of his long fingers into your sloppy cunt causing you to throw your head back with a groan.

Oh fuck. Aizawa’s fingers filled you up in ways you had been needing all day and you rocked your hips in desperation, trying to get him to move them inside you but he remained still.

“Shouta plea-“ Your pleas were cut off by Aizawa’s sudden grip on your throat. Your breath caught and your eyes widened as you felt his fingers flex in a silent threat. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘please’, ‘more’, or ‘Daddy’, I don’t want to fucking hear it, kitten,” he spat out, his face twisting with lust and anger. “Got it?” You nod furiously, thankful that he was holding onto your throat or you would have been crying for his fat cock. Already, the slight lack of oxygen was making your head swim in the most delicious way as Aizawa gently leaned you back onto the table. He released you for a brief moment to snag a hair tie from his desk. With the darkest, smoldering look in his eyes, he tied his long hair back into a loose bun and renewed his grip on your throat.

Slightly reclining, his forearm was pressed against your chest to ensure that you didn’t move and that his grip stayed on your throat. Aizawa lowered his head between your thighs and you could feel yourself get wetter as he exhaled on your pussy. He admired the glistening shine of your arousal that coated your thighs and was leaking out of your pussy before diving in. Your shout of surprise turned into a cry of pleasure. Your dark haired boyfriend ate your pussy like a man starved, tongue fucking you as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His tongue was slithering up and down your slit, dipping into your hole as his fingers pulled out. Occasionally, he would give a gentle suck to your clit which made you thrash, threatening to throw his hand off your neck.

“D-Daddy,” you whimper, slapping your hand over your mouth in hopes of strangling the cries before they came out. Aizawa pulled away from your pussy and in a low, dangerous voice that sent shockwaves straight to your pussy, he said “Don’t do that, I want to hear you cry.” His piercing black eyes latched onto yours as you shakily let your hand fall from your mouth. This entire time, he hadn’t stopped fingerfucking you, the desk slightly squeaking across the linoleum from the force of his pumping. You nodded at him and let out a high moan, the wet squelching of his fingers in your pussy sending your hormones through the roof. Your orgasm rapidly approaching, you let your head fall backwards and your eyes rolled back, fingers grasping at the loose fabric of your boyfriend’s black sweater.

All of the sudden, you were too empty and your eyes flew open.

“W-Wha, Daddy! Please!” You stuttered in betrayal at being brought to the edge and then left hanging. You were so close to cumming, you would have done anything but Aizawa had other ideas. His expression was cool but his eyes still burned with the same anger and lust from before as he sat backwards into his teacher’s chair.

“Filthy slut, you don’t get to cum before I do.” Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his heavy cock spring free of his sweats. His cock looked angry and dark, head purpling and wet with precum and you couldn’t wait to get it inside of you. Aizawa lazily picked up your abandoned thong, still soaked with your arousal and gripped it in his palm with his cock.

Black eyes bored into your own as he began to stroke his cock with your panties. The slick sound of his cock against the fabric was so hot, you were surprised that you didn’t burst into flames. As much as you wanted to reach for him, you knew that he would continue to deny you your orgasm if you misbehaved so you fidgeted in your spot, wishing it was your cunt wrapped lovingly around his cock, slicking it up with your wetness instead. Aizawa let his head drop back, letting out a guttural groan as he stroked his cock, already imaging your tightness wrapped around him.

“Fuck baby, do you know what the fuck you did to me today? How badly I wanted to fuck you all fucking day?�� You whimpered and snuck a hand between your thighs, a couple of fingers pressing deep into your pussy hoping to take the empty ache away. The soft wet noises of you both touching yourselves filled the room. “Your slutty little cunt is just waiting to be filled with my load, isn’t it baby?” Aizawa grunted, twisting his wrist a little as he continued to jerk off. “You want to be bred, baby? You’ll really be able to call me Daddy then, won’t you?” You jerk your head in agreement, desperately scissoring your fingers inside yourself as you tried to find that spot in you that would see stars.

“Come over here baby, come ride Daddy’s fucking dick,” the dark haired man growled, tossing your panties to the side and you threw yourself off the desk and into his lap. With one fluid motion, your boyfriend had turned you around and spread your legs. You marveled at his strength, he had your leg hiked up in the air with one arm, exposing you to the silent room. With the other hand, he grabbed his cock and gently tapped it against your slit, the tackiness of your slick dripping down his cock. You helped him guide his cock into your waiting entrance and let out a long, low moan at the feeling of your boyfriend’s fat fucking cock stretching your tight cunt. As soon as he got the head of his cock in, Aizawa got impatient and dropped you onto his cock, punching a shout of surprise from your lungs.

You hooked your arm around his neck so you could see his face as you experimentally rolled your hips. Both of your eyes rolled back as you started to move, your tight channel sucking him in deeper and deeper and his girth stretching you in ways you had been craving all day. As he filled you, you could feel the plug that was in your ass moving in tandem, seperated from his cock by only a thin layer in your body. You were so full but you couldn’t help yourself, you kept fucking yourself back on his cock. With every bounce, you jostled the plug inside you and it just felt so good to be so full that you continued to ride your boyfriend. The lewd slapping sounds of your bodies moving together made you both moan in lust. Aizawa attempted to muffle his moans by sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, grazing his teeth across the skin. This earned him a high pitched whine from you and you bounced even harder on his cock, feeling your orgasm nearing.

“D-Daddy,” you gasped, sparks firing off low in your belly.

“Yeah, yeah baby, you gonna cum?” Aizawa panted, reaching around and gently stroking your clit. “Cum on baby, cum on Daddy’s dick.”

Hearing your boyfriend give you permission to cum was all you needed to push you over the edge. You screamed as the force of your orgasm hit you like a truck, slick squirting out over Aizawa’s fingers and dripping down his cock. Your boyfriend wasn’t far behind, biting into your shoulder to mask his cry as he came inside you, the pulsing of his cock almost arousing you again.

As you both came down from your highs, you could feel Aizawa laughing into your shoulder.

“Nasty, naughty fucking girl.”

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